An Untamed Heart

by Lauraine Snelling

“I will bring help. I will be back.” The boy and dog disappeared.

  The promise soaked him like the warmest bath. He lay back. Thank you, God. You heard me. Takk, tusen takk. He could no longer identify the cold seeping up from the gravel and rocks underneath him. Surely he would not have to spend another night here. But how they would lift him up from his impossible position was beyond thinking.

  “Ingeborg! Ingeborg!” Jon ran as fast as his legs allowed, and the trail didn’t trip him. “Ingeborg!” He would have brought one of the dogs to go ahead, but Hjelmer needed the dogs to bring the sheep in. When he crested the trail to see the seter valley, he stopped and screamed again, waving his arms.

  “What is that?” Ingeborg stopped on her way back from skimming off the cream from the milking of the evening before. After tonight and tomorrow morning, they would have enough cream to start a batch of cheese. She scanned the valley, catching sight of Jon waving his arms. Something was wrong for sure. She waved back to show she’d heard and looked around. Who could she send?

  “Hamme, you run fast. Go see what Jon is trying to tell us. I’ll saddle one of the horses.”

  The girl took off with a nod, lifting her skirts so she could run faster.

  “Anders, catch one of the horses for me, quick.”

  He waved from the barn and headed out to the horses grazing in the pasture.

  “Mari! Gather up some blankets.” Would she need bandages? Of course, take them just in case. Apparently someone was injured. Was it Hjelmer? Oh, God, please not. Something attacked the sheep? She looked out. Hamme was charging back on the track. Ingeborg yelled at her. “How bad?”

  “A hiker. Hjelmer found an injured hiker.”

  A hiker! Way up here? There were no nearby trails or major hiking routes. And just one hiker, it would seem. No one sensible would ever hike alone. Ingeborg waved to her and headed inside. “We need some of the pain medicine, bandages, the blankets. What else?” She could hear Anders with the horse. “Go see if he got the horse saddled.”

  Kari ran outside. “Ja!”

  “Go see if the hiking staves are . . . are . . .” Where had they left them last fall?

  “I saw them in the springhouse. I’ll get them.” Mari left.

  Trying to catch her breath, Hamme puffed out, “He is down near a creek bed, not able to move. Leg is broken, I think.”

  “Now we know.” She turned to Kari. “Tie those blankets behind the saddle. I’ll carry the staves. Put the other things in a bag we can tie to the saddle.”

  Tor burst in the door, followed by Mari.

  “Tor, you and Anders follow me as fast as you can. Jon, ride behind me to show me where the sheep are grazing and help bring the flock back. Hjelmer knows where to go. We need rope. Kari, you bring the rope and come with the boys.” Her mind kept praying Help as she gave the orders. “Mari, make sure we have plenty of hot water and fix a padded pallet on the floor by the fireplace.” She thought again. “Since we don’t know how long he has been there, we’ll need broth to feed him. Or soup. Fix something easy to eat.”

  “We’re ready.” Kari stepped into the room, a coiled rope over her shoulder. “Tor has another rope. The staves are beside the door.”

  “All of you, pray for this man, that we can save his life.” Outside, she mounted the horse, took the staves in one hand, and waited for Anders to help Jon settle in behind her. “Hang on around my waist. We’ll be going fast.”

  “Ja.”

  She turned the horse and nudged it from a trot to a canter, so much easier for her passenger behind her. They quickly left the runners behind. “Are you all right?”

  “Ja. I have ridden before.”

  Her litany of Help us calmed her mind as they started up the trail on the other side of the valley. It changed to Let us get there in time. Up ahead she could see the flock of sheep coming around a corner. “Can you take them home yourself?” she asked Jon.

  “Ja, my sheep follow me.”

  “The dogs will help you.” She slowed the horse before it could frighten the sheep. When she stopped, Jon slid to the ground.

  “Can we take the horse in?” she called to Hjelmer.

  “Ja. Mostly.”

  She pulled her foot from the stirrup so he could mount behind her. “Take care of them, Jon.” They walked past the sheep and picked up a trot again, then a lope.

  “Over that way.” Hjelmer pointed to a smaller trail.

  “How bad is he?”

  “I don’t really know. He’s a young man. Do not know how long ago this happened. But getting him up from where he lies is going to be difficult.”

  “Can we ride the horse all the way?” She looked back over her shoulder. The others were just cresting the hill that bordered the valley. She turned the horse and waved to them. Certain they saw her, she let the horse pick the way. “This is a game trail.”

  “I know. I do not know why he was off the main trails. He said something about his head and his ribs. For some strange reason I think he was already hurt when he fell.”

  Her song for help continued.

  “It is not far now.”

  “How did you find him up here?”

  “The dogs heard him call for help.” He pointed to the right. “I never would have found him were it not for Ranger.”

  He could have died up here. “No one else around?”

  “Nei.” He raised his voice. “Halloo. We are coming.”

  There was no answer.

  “Stop here. We can tie the horse to that bush.” He slid off and ran a few more yards up the trail, then looked over the edge. “Down there.”

  Ingeborg untied her supplies and handed Hjelmer the staves and blankets. Stopping, she looked over the edge. “Can you hear me?” she called.

  She was partway down the ravine when her feet slid out from under her, and she bumped down the incline on her rear until she caught hold of a bush to stop sliding. “We are coming.” Please, God, let him be alive. She made her way to the bottom, Hjelmer not far behind her.

  Kneeling beside the figure, she could see he was breathing. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered. She looked back up to the trail. Hjelmer had been right. How would they ever get him up that steep incline?

  The leg was grotesque. Since he was wearing lederhosen, the injury was obvious. Swollen, black and blue, with a lump where there should not be one. Below the knee and above the ankle. At least the broken bone had not punctured the skin. She turned to see a lump and swelling on the right side of his head, above the ear, although swelling encompassed half his head, even to the side of his face and other parts of his body. No wonder he was unconscious again. Blond hair, not matted with blood. That was good. If it were not for the swelling, he would be a handsome man.

  Leaning over him, she asked, “Can you wake up now? What is your name? We are here to help you.”

  She rested back on her legs when his eyes flickered. And opened.

  “Am . . . I in . . . heaven?”

  She shook her head. “Nei, I don’t think so. At least I know I am not.”

  “You must be an angel.” He blinked and raised a hand to her face. “You are. I . . . am in h-heaven.”

  “I’ve never been called an angel before, but I can tell you, you are not in heaven. Somehow we have to get you out of here and back to the seter.”

  “Hmm.” His eyelids flickered. “Takk.”

  “You are welcome. Can you tell me your name?”

  “Nils. Nils Aarvidson.”

  “Well, Mr. Aarvidson, can you tell me about your injuries? I see the broken leg and the swelling on your head. Anything else?”

  He paused, seemed to gather the needed strength to answer her question. Halting, he continued. “Second lump—on the head. Other back. Ribs were . . . before.”

  “I see. You came hiking in the mountains with broken ribs and an injured head. Are you crazy?”

  “No. Thought . . . better. Find . . . camp . . . night or two . . . back . . . Raggen Inn.”


  “That is many miles away.”

  “I . . . hike.”

  She looked to Hjelmer, who shook his head, obviously thinking the same as Ingeborg. The man was clearly not in his right mind.

  “We’re going to have to splint that leg before we move him. You think all of us can carry him up”—she nodded to the climb—“with a litter of some kind?”

  Hjelmer shrugged. “Maybe one of us should ride down and get help.”

  “We can’t leave him here.”

  “Nei.” He was looking up at the trail when he heard a horse nicker. “The others are nearly here.”

  Ingeborg studied their patient, who had faded out again. “If he would stay unconscious, it would be easier for him.” She picked up his hand. Soft. Not a workingman’s hand. Who was this man and how would they help him?

  “Do you have your knife along?”

  “Ja.”

  “See his backpack over there? See if he has a tent or a blanket so I can cover him. Start punching holes in the sides of any blanket you find, so we can bind it to the staves.”

  He dug in the backpack and pulled out a tent and a blanket. “What about using his tent to carry him?”

  “That would be harder to punch through and lace.”

  “Ingeborg?” Three welcome faces appeared up at the trail.

  “Good. Be careful coming down here. The scree slides easily, and we don’t need rocks coming down on him. Or someone else getting hurt. Anders, Tor, do you have knives?”

  “I do,” Tor answered.

  “Good. Bring the supplies down. We have to figure a way to get him up to the trail.” And keep him alive. She flinched when she heard him cough. One more thing. She laid a hand on his forehead. Fever? A shiver shook him from head to booted foot. Even in his stupor, he flinched.

  Ingeborg shook her head. She’d never treated anything this severe before. Not on a human. What would her mor do? What would a doctor do? Lord, help!

  12

  “Don’t bother inventing the wheel if that has already been done.”

  “Use the brains God gave you.”

  Her far’s truisms were all delivered in the appropriate places—often.

  “Girls don’t do that!”

  Her mor’s advice. Ingeborg dismissed it. Right now, for sure it did not apply.

  After covering her patient, she sat close by the young man’s head, her knees drawn up with her arms across them, and let her imagination try out different scenarios. He had mentioned his ribs and obviously suffered immense pain whenever he coughed or spoke. Onkel Frode broke three ribs once. She was young at the time, but she still remembered how they treated the injury.

  When their favorite milk cow broke a leg, her far cared about the poor beast so much that he called in the doctor. The doctor had explained that when a long bone is broken, whether in cows or humans, the muscles around the break bunch up to draw it together. But if the broken ends are not exactly aligned, the muscles will push them right past each other and out through the skin. This young man’s broken bone had not pierced the skin. But when they began to move him, the bone might shift, no matter how well splinted, and they would have an open bleeding wound. What would she do then?

  And to get him up out of this steep ravine . . . Her mind raced, calculating . . . She stood up. “I think I have the solution. Let us pray it works.”

  First a fire to warm him as much as possible. Then splint the leg and build a litter that would carry him safely. There was no chance he could walk even a step on his own. Then get him up out of the ravine onto level ground. “Gather twigs and tinder as you come down. We must get a fire going.”

  “Hjelmer, use your knife to cut chunks out of the middle of this shortest walking staff until we can break it in half. We’ll use it for the splint.”

  “Here?” He pointed to the middle of it.

  “Ja.”

  Hjelmer set instantly to work.

  “The two longest staves will be the handles of the litter we will make to carry him. Kari, I need your petticoat. We’ll end up using mine also.”

  Bless the child. She didn’t hesitate to get her petticoat off. Ingeborg tore the cotton petticoat into strips. She would use these to bind the blanket to the staves for the litter, rather than using up their precious bandages. “Heat some rocks to warm him. Does anyone have a cup?”

  “No, but my hat might work, to carry water anyway.”

  “Good idea. Put a hot rock in it.”

  While Kari and Anders nursed their minute fire, Hjelmer propped one end of the staff on a rock and stomped on the middle. It broke in two where he’d been chipping. After feeding the chips to the growing flame, Kari fetched water from the creek.

  Nils coughed and blinked. His cheek twitched.

  Ingeborg shook her head. Was he trying to smile in spite of all this?

  “Will this be all right? I smoothed what I could.” Hjelmer and Tor held out their handiwork.

  “Good. We will splint the leg now.”

  Kneeling in and on the rocks, Tor and Hjelmer slid their hands beneath the injured leg where Ingeborg indicated and lifted slightly. Good. She forced herself to move slowly and with great care as she bound the two sticks tightly against the young man’s leg. Surely it would work. Lord willing. Please, Lord. How do we move this rock that binds him?

  Kari nursed the fire and water as the others did the man. Slipping the warmed rock into the hat spilled part of the water. “The water is warming.”

  Ingeborg rocked back on her heels. “We will dribble some into his mouth. Tor, bring some of the warmed rocks over.”

  Nils blinked, his eyes slitting open. “Drink this.” Ingeborg held the edge of the cap against his mouth. A small victory but a step forward. A twitch of his head said enough. She handed the hat back to Kari. “See if you can heat enough to warm his hands.”

  “Like this?” Tor held up their handiwork, white strips of petticoat lacing the blanket to one of the remaining staves.

  “Very good. Bring it here.”

  “But I am not done.”

  “I know.” She reached for the unlaced side of the blanket. “We cannot lift him into a litter, so we will build it around him. Tor, Anders, you kneel by his other side there and work the blanket in under him. Hjelmer and I will draw it out this side. Kari, cradle his head in both hands. That’s the way. Good girl!”

  The hiker’s body jiggled as they worked. He opened his eyes and mouth and said something on the order of “Eh,” but then his eyes rolled up and back, and he slipped away again.

  It took a surprisingly long time to get the blanket squared beneath him. Then they laced in the remaining staff and rolled up the staves tightly until they were close against the young man’s body. Ingeborg knotted the leftover petticoat strips into a long rope and tied the young man snugly into his litter.

  Hjelmer stood grinning at their work. “Brilliant!”

  “Now to move that rock. You push and I will pull.” But the rock did not move.

  “We need a lever.” Anders stood and looked around. “Down there. That must be his staff.” He fetched it while Hjelmer and Tor dug out some smaller stone and gravel to make a hole for the end. Using another stick to dig and levering with the staff, they finally loosened the rock the few inches needed to free the prisoner. They all wiped dripping sweat from their faces and stood panting.

  “We’re only half done. Let us try lifting him.” She pointed to the handles formed by the staff ends. “Hjelmer? Tor? Anders?” She took the fourth handle. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

  The litter lurched and wagged as it rose. Their patient moaned.

  Once they were free of the rock prison, she ordered, “Let him down, carefully.” As she feared, the smaller boys had trouble carrying the fellow when they stood there. They would never be able to get him up the steep slope. “How much rope is left?”

  Kari scrambled up the scree and disappeared. She returned in a moment, sticking her head over the edge to call, “T
wo long ones.”

  “Throw the end of one of them down here. Just the end.” It flopped at her feet. How to attach it to the litter? It was long enough that she could weave it among the staff ends. Would that hold? Yes. Would her idea work? Please, God! Oh, please!

  “Now please listen carefully. We will move him up the slope feet first, so that if any rocks come loose and fall, they’ll hit his feet, if at all. I will take the handles by his head. We will try to keep him as smooth as possible. Hjelmer, you and Anders will each take a side at his feet. Do you understand so far?”

  Hjelmer nodded. Anders looked worried, so he understood, obviously.

  Ingeborg called, “Kari, you stay up there. Get the horse. We will use the horse to draw him up the slope, but only one step at a time. Can you get the horse to take a step only when we ask?”

  “Oh ja! We’re friends.”

  Ingeborg smiled.

  “Wait! I’m stronger than Anders,” Tor protested. “Let me take a side.”

  “That is right. You are. I need your strength for the most important job. Horses mean well, but sometimes they bolt or shy. We will not tie the rope fast to the saddle. We’ll loop it around the saddle. Then you, Tor, will hold on to it tightly. If the horse starts to act up, you will release the rope immediately so that the litter is not dragged. Can you do that?”

  Now Tor was grinning too. “I will do it!” He clambered up the slope.

  Kari brought the horse to the lip of the ravine. Ingeborg could just barely see its rump. She could not see Tor wrapping the rope around the saddle, but she could tell the way it moved that he was doing it well.

  “Wait. I need to add the other rope.”

  The rope finally went taut. Tor called, “We’re ready.”

  “Hjelmer, Anders, we will raise and turn the litter so that his feet are next to the slope and his head end out here.” What was the word? Perpendicular. They now had the litter perpendicular to the slope. “Now lift his feet out and away from the ground.” She raised her end and called, “One step, Kari.”

  The rope jerked upward and stopped. Hjelmer and Anders let the litter handles rest against the slope. The young man was now an arm’s length up the slope. Hjelmer and Anders braced themselves in the scree and lifted the litter free.