He knelt before his chair and rested his forehead on his hands. As he held each of his flock before the throne of God, he asked for wisdom for some, love for others, and always a closer walk of faith for each. When Mary Martha came to mind, he shook his head. “Father, she irritates me so, and I have no idea why. She’s so good with the children, and I should be grateful—believe me, I am—but one minute I think we could be friends, and the next she’s gotten under my skin again. I don’t know what to do.” He waited, hoping God would give him a burst of wisdom right then. Instead he heard something that sounded like a chuckle but convinced himself that it was the sound of the wood coals falling in the stove. His knees creaked when he finally stood again.
He let the cat out, banked the stove, and made ready for bed. When the cat meowed, he let it back in and climbed under the quilt. Tomorrow would be a good time. He always had a good time at the Bjorklunds and came away feeling like part of the family. Everyone needed a family.
Which brought up another thought. “You know, Father, I thought you meant for Katy to be my wife, and that didn’t happen. I really would like to have a family of my own.” He waited, searching his own heart and mind. “But if that isn’t in your plan for me, then so be it.” I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and not for evil. The verse floated through his mind. “I know that, thank you.” When he turned over, the cat resettled itself by his master’s feet and commenced again to purr loud enough to wake the dead. Not that it bothered John one whit. His last thought was that he needed to get up early to split and stack his own wood before leaving for the Bjorklunds’.
Two hogs were already scalded and scraped by the time he walked into the Bjorklunds’ yard. The carcasses hanging from a tripod with a block and tackle steamed in the brisk air.
“On three now. One, two, three.” Four men heaved another eviscerated carcass out of the scalding tank and onto a solid table where the scraping began.
“Thorliff, you and Baptiste bring in some more firewood. Got to keep this water hot enough.” Lars motioned to the boys. The ring of ax on wood could be heard from behind the house where the Baard boys were hard at work splitting the butts.
“Howdy, Pastor.” Joseph Baard looked up from scraping the coarse hair off the hog’s hide. “You want to take my place here or help grind potatoes for klubb?”
“I’ll scrape. How many hogs you doing?”
“Eight. Ten if we have time. I brought mine over here, easier than moving all the equipment.”
By the time they stopped for dinner, six sheet-covered hogs were hanging in the barn, the heads were boiling for headcheese, and what seemed like miles of washed gut lay soaking in salt water, being kept to stuff with sausage meat, which would be ground the next day.
The men and older boys took turns at the woodpile, knowing how much wood it would take to finish the day. While everyone had their own job to do, the teasing and laughter made the time pass like dry leaves blowing before the wind.
Solberg meandered over to where the women were forming the mixture of ground raw potatoes, fresh blood, flour, and seasoning into balls around a small piece of salt pork. Once formed and cooled, the fist sized balls were wrapped in cheese cloth and, when the women had made enough, set in an iron kettle over one of the fires to simmer for several hours.
“Hope you’re making some extra,” Pastor Solberg said.
“We always make extra. Why?” Ingeborg brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with the back of a floury hand.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind having some for breakfast, sliced and heated in milk. Mmm, tasty.”
“Don’t you worry. You’ll go home with plenty.” She glanced up. “Astrid, stay back from there. The men don’t need a little girl under foot.”
“I thought Anji had the little ones over at Kaaren’s.” Agnes looked up from where she and Katy were grinding potatoes.
“She does. This one must have slipped away.” Ingeborg glanced around. “Thorliff, will you take Astrid back to Kaaren’s and make her stay there?”
“Me stay here.” The little girl’s lower lip came out, and her Bjorklund blue eyes flashed.
“If she don’t look just like her ma.” Agnes stopped turning the grinder crank and pointed to the child.
“Are you saying I get that stubborn look?” Ingeborg rolled her eyes and her bottom lip too, innocence in action. “Astrid!” The little girl looked at her feet but the lip stayed firm.
“Ja, you could say that.” Agnes and Kaaren, who, like Ingeborg, were in blood sausage to the elbows, nodded at each other.
“I am thinking that is where Andrew got that look too.” Pastor Solberg’s smile twinkled his eyes. He went on to tell them how Andrew went after the Valders boys when they laughed at Anna. “That Andrew, he is some champion of those he cares about.”
“Ja, and Andrew cares about anyone and everyone who crosses his path. But especially those weaker than he.” Kaaren wiped her chin on her shoulder. “That could cause him a problem sometime.”
“If he hadn’t sat down when I told him, he would have had a problem all right.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Bridget called from the door of Ingeborg’s house.
Thorliff scooped Astrid up under one arm and tickled her at the same time. “Come on, let’s go get the others.”
“There’s hot water on the wash bench.” Bridget pointed to the side of the soddy, where a long bench held basins and soap with towels hanging on pegs above. The women scrubbed first so they could help with the serving.
The first kettle of klubb steamed on the stove, filling the house with its hearty fragrance. With two tables set end to end and another in the parlor, there was room for everyone to sit down. Ingeborg, Metiz, and Bridget passed heaping bowls of klubb, potatoes, green beans cooked with bacon, mashed rutabagas, and fried green tomatoes, while platters of bread and bowls of pickles already lined the center of the table.
“Pastor Solberg, would you please ask the blessing?” Ingeborg smiled at their friend.
“Surely. Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this food thou hast given us, for the work of our hands, and the plenty of our harvest. We praise thee for such a glorious day and the joy of being together. Amen.” When he raised his head, the first thing he noticed was Mary Martha across the table smiling at him.
“Thank you. Now, everyone, help yourself.” At the head of the table, Haakan reached for the bowl in front of him, so the rest did also.
She has beautiful eyes. The thought made John Solberg’s ears burn. He quickly took a slice of bread and passed the plate to his neighbor. With the food passing and plates being filled, the hubbub rose again, punctuated by laughter and the call to refill the bowls.
With amazing speed the bowls were emptied again, and as soon as the coffee was poured and Kaaren’s eggekake devoured, the men filed out to begin the next round.
“You sit down now,” Kaaren ordered Bridget, Ingeborg, and Metiz, “and let us serve you.” She shooed them to the table and began opening pans to see what, if anything, remained. “They about cleaned us out.” She scraped mashed potatoes out of the bottom of the kettle and retrieved three of the round sausages from the warming oven, where she’d hidden them earlier.
“Here, you can warm these up.” Ingeborg passed over a bowl of beans. “This was about as close to feeding a threshing crew as we can get. Shame Penny and Hjelmer didn’t come.”
“She can’t just close that store down whenever she feels like it, you know.” Kaaren pointed to a loaf of bread and signaled Katy to slice it.
“I know, and Saturday is usually the busiest day at the blacksmith, but it just don’t seem right without them.”
A loud screech from outside, followed by another, made them all chuckle. “Pig whistles.”
“Pig whistles?” Mary Martha look up with a puzzled expression.
“They are cut from the windpipe of the pig where the sounds come from. Those screechings you hear are the children blowing through the pipe.” I
ngeborg pretended to hold a whistle to her lips and blow.
Bridget frowned and looked around. “I didn’t see Hamre. Where is he?”
“He went in to help Hjelmer, left right after breakfast. You know he wants to go back to sea, but maybe we should talk to Hjelmer about letting the boy apprentice with him. He doesn’t like farming much, and that would give him a skill.” Ingeborg closed her eyes, the better to enjoy her first bite of klubb. “You know, I’ve been thinking of stuffing some of this into casings and smoking it. Might taste good along with cheese and bread.”
“Our neighbors used to do that. You know, those up the hill beyond the Stav Kirke.” Bridget smiled in remembrance. “Tastes a whole lot different.”
“What spices did they use?” Ingeborg cocked an ear to hear what was going on in the other room where the smaller children were playing.
“Come on, Andrew, let’s go outside,” Gus Baard said. “I don’t want to play with all the girls.”
“Trygve isn’t a girl.”
“No, but he’s so little, he’s still wearing a dress. Come on.”
Ingeborg smiled to herself. She knew the children were safe with Anji and Manda watching them, even though Astrid had gotten away from them. But then, Astrid got away from her lots of times too. One minute she was there and the next one poof ! Just like dandelion fluff in the breeze. Andrew had been much the same. Only the good graces of Metiz’ Wolf had kept him from being lost forever in the tall prairie grass. She shuddered at the memory. At least that was one problem they no longer feared. All the grass within a mile of the homestead was grazed short or the land planted in grain. No more buffalo grass taller than a big man’s head, let alone that of a young child.
“What’s wrong?” Kaaren asked, her hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder as she poured more coffee.
“Just remembering. Sometimes it is good to think of the past and see God’s hand upon us, saving us and guiding us. Things could have been so much worse. I couldn’t have said that at the time, but now I can.”
“Ja,” Agnes agreed, “those first years.” She shook her head. “Uff da, what we went through.” She heaved herself to her feet. “I better go check on that kettle of klubb out on the fire.” She waited a moment for her back to straighten. “You’d think I was an old lady or something.”
Ingeborg’s gaze followed her friend out the door. She does look older. Never been right since that last baby. Lord, is there something I can do for her? If so, please let me know. The two of them had many things in common, but one that broke both their hearts—no more babies. Agnes had lost hers stillborn, and Ingeborg miscarried after the plow accident, but the results were the same. Barrenness.
She looked up to see Metiz studying her from across the table. “What?”
Metiz shook her head. “Nothing to do.” Her shrug barely lifted her shoulders, but it said all she believed. If there was something wrong with Agnes, Metiz had nothing in her bag of simples that would help. The thought of that made Ingeborg sigh. If she and Metiz both saw it, something was indeed wrong. But what?
Kaaren went off to put the twins and Trygve down for a nap while Ingeborg did the same with Astrid. Then, since infant Samuel had begun to whimper, Kaaren sat down in the rocker to nurse him. With the youngsters sleeping, the older girls, led by Katy, attacked the dishes so the others could go out and keep on with the butchering. Hides were salted and rolled to be tanned and used for shoe leather, harness repairs, and anything else that needed tough leather.
Everyone headed home with fresh liver, heart, and kidneys if they wanted them. The feet would be pickled, the loops of sausage smoked, and the sausage patties set in lard-covered crocks. Once the carcasses hung a few days, they would be cut up with the haunches and side meat set in brine to smoke later.
Pastor Solberg carried his basket on his lap as the Baards gave him a ride home. He would have his klubb for breakfast as he’d wished.
“I appreciate the ride,” he said to Joseph, the two of them sitting on the wagon seat. The rest of the family took up much of the wagon bed. They could hear Swen and Knute arguing at the back of the wagon, their feet hanging over the tailgate.
“You two stop that.” Anji took her position as eldest girl very seriously. Her brothers swung the other way. Not much in life wasn’t fodder for a good joke or laugh.
“Anji, leave them alone. They aren’t bothering anyone.” Agnes spoke gently, softly so as not to wake the little ones.
Solberg had to smile. His sister had treated him the same way.
“You goin’ to the great debate next Saturday?” Joseph asked.
“I have the privilege of introducing the two gentlemen. You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I got me some questions I want answered.”
“You and all the rest of us.” Pastor Solberg set his basket down on the floorboards and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Once Dakota Territory becomes a state . . .”
“Or two.” Joseph hawked and spit over the wagon wheel. “I’m all for two states, meself.”
“I’m not sure yet. That’s one of the things I hope Muir and that politician—I keep forgetting his name—clear up. I know Haakan and Lars want to discuss the railroad and flour mills setting prices for both wheat and shipping. You given any thought to joining the Farmer’s Alliance that Muir is so enthusiastic about?”
“Ja, in my mind that’s the way to go. Like we done here in Blessing. You could call us a giant co-op the way we all work together, got our own train stop, sack house, and all. Pretty soon we’ll have to build us an elevator, mark my words. And here we know that no one is cheating us. Sure a lot different than what I hear about other places.”
“No doubt.” Pastor sighed. “Progress is going to catch us whether we want it to or not. I just hope . . .”
Joseph waited before asking, “Hope what?”
“I wish I knew, Joseph, I wish I knew.” So much change so fast. Is it just me, or are the others also concerned?
Chapter 12
“Ah, Goodie, could we talk for a moment before services?”
“I think not, you . . . you selfish hussy.” Goodie Wold spun on her heel and stalked up the stairs to the open church door.
Penny felt as if she’d just been stabbed in the belly. She could hardly catch her breath for wanting to check and see if she was bleeding. To be called a name like that right here and for no reason. At least none that she knew of.
“Are you all right?” Hjelmer caught up with her and took her elbow, motioning toward the church door. “We need to go in.”
“I . . . I don’t think I can . . . yet.”
“Penny, we are going to be late.” Now he increased the pressure on her arm and took two steps toward the door.
She allowed him to lead her up the steps and into the vestibule, where Ingeborg and Haakan were greeting people.
“Penny, are you all right?” Ingeborg skipped right over the how-do-you-do’s. She took Penny’s hand and smothered it with her own.
“No, I—ah, yes.” She looked around the shallow room. Goodie must have already gone into the sanctuary.
“Hjelmer, what has happened?”
“Nothing, ah . . .” He leaned close and whispered, “We’ll tell you later.” Then he gently pushed Penny before him through the wide doorway. They took seats in the back row.
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” she demanded.
Hjelmer shook his head. “You can’t do anything about it now, so just sit back and take part in the service.” He kept his voice low, but still the Johnsons in front of them turned to see what was the matter.
Penny slumped against the bench back. I should have gone over to her house again when I thought about it. Now this. What’s the matter with Goodie? Is all this over the sewing machines, or is it something else? What have I done that could have upset her so much? She wracked her brain through the opening hymn and could think of nothing. She searched the room, locating Olaf and his family in the third row on the far side. Was
Goodie sitting rigid with anger, or did she usually sit that way?
The words of the Scripture for the day rolled right on by her.
When Pastor Solberg announced the political debate coming up, she nodded but went right back to searching her words and actions. Thoughts buzzed like angry bees but going nowhere.
She looked around again, this time for Agnes. If only she could talk with her. No one could calm her down like her aunt. She was three rows in front of them. No way to get a message to her.
Hjelmer took her hand and covered it with his other. Knowing his reticence about showing affection in public, she leaned her head against his shoulder for only a minute but clung to the warmth of his hands.
“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God.”
The words flashed into her crazy maelstrom of thoughts. But I thought I was. I did. I do. She forced herself to pay attention. Would love be angry at a cut like that? She shook her head. But I’m more hurt than angry. She’s the angry one. Why?
The real question is what do I do now?
Tante Agnes would say pray, then go. Go all right. I’ll go on home and never speak to her again unless she comes and begs me! She knew Agnes would mean go to Goodie, but Penny refused to entertain that thought at the moment.
“The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His countenance to shine upon thee and give thee His peace. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
When they all stood to sing the closing hymn, Penny slipped past the couple next to her and out the door.
Shaking hands and talking with people at the door, Pastor Solberg asked, “What happened to Penny?”
“She left,” Hjelmer answered. His jaw was squared as though he had more to say but wouldn’t.
“Is she all right?”
“We’ll see.” Hjelmer shook the pastor’s hand and headed for home.
“What’s going on there?” Ingeborg asked, coming right behind Hjelmer. “Did he say anything?”
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