Tender Mercies

by Lauraine Snelling

  Penny shook her head. “I think Hjelmer and me going over there would be better. Then, if that doesn’t work, I’ll let you know. You think that’s all right?”

  “Ja, I do. But keep one thing in mind. The Bible says, ‘Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.’ ”

  “It already has, several times in fact. And each day gets harder.”

  “Maybe that’s why God put those words in the Scriptures.” Kaaren raised an eyebrow and drew Penny close for a hug. “You are so close to being my sister after helping us for those months when the twins were born that I must sound like a big sister to you.”

  “That’s okay, since I never had one.” Penny wiped her eye with the edge of her apron. “Thank you for coming like this.”

  “You’re welcome, and see, you got to share our good news too.”

  After Kaaren left, Penny checked the bread and put a couple more sticks of wood in the stove. They couldn’t go over to see Goodie now because the bread would have to come out too soon. And supper was ready.

  After supper she had to start more bread for the morrow and bake pies.

  All during supper she stewed about her predicament. Finally she said, “Guess I’ll just have to go over there in the morning. Ephraim, you’ll mind the store for me for a few minutes tomorrow, won’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry but I have to be out to Odell’s real early in the morning to help them butcher. I told ’em I would.”

  “I’ll take care of the store,” Hjelmer said, laying his knife and fork on his plate. “Very good supper, as usual. No wonder the train makes sure to stop here at noon.”

  In spite of her worries, Penny fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But not long after that, something woke her. She got out of bed, shrugged into her wrapper, and with slippers on went downstairs into the kitchen. She opened the back door. Smoke. She smelled smoke. And it wasn’t smoke from someone’s chimney.

  She spun around and ran yelling up the stairs, “Hjelmer, go ring the bell. There’s a fire someplace!”

  Chapter 16

  “Where is the fire?” Hjelmer pulled up his suspenders as he thundered down the stairs.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see any flames, but I know something is burning.” Penny was pulling on her boots as she explained. “I can just smell it.”

  Hjelmer paused at the doorway to sniff the air. “That’s grain burning. You go ring the bell!” He sprinted across the field toward the sack house.

  Penny ran to the front of the blacksmith and barn where they kept the fire bell. Pulling on the rope for all she was worth, she kept muttering, “Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.” That’s all she could think. “Help them hear it.”

  When she began hearing rifles discharging to pass the word along, she knew the alarm was out. She charged back in the store and gathered up the stacks of metal pails that had arrived only the day or so before. Out to the well, she began winding up the bucket.

  “Where is it?” Pastor Solberg puffed up beside her.

  “In the sack house, I think.”

  Riders on two horses galloped into the yard and tied the horses behind the shed.

  “In the sack house.”

  They grabbed full buckets and headed for the grain unloading dock. The double wide doors were still barred from the inside, so they turned toward the office door.

  “Where’s the fire?”

  “In here,” Hjelmer hollered back. “But keep the door closed!”

  Penny and Pastor Solberg kept taking turns turning the crank and emptying the oak bucket into the pails. While her arms and hands worked, her mind careened around corners and out of control. Serves them right! Goodie . . .

  Penny Bjorklund. What’s come over you? Father, forgive me. Please guard those inside. Keep Hjelmer and Olaf safe. Please, God. Please, God.

  All Penny could see was the next bucket, even though someone had hung a lantern for them and there was another lit on the outside of the sack house. Crank and pour. Let the handle go so the bucket would drop faster. Crank and pour. She could hear men yelling and coughing—oh, the awful coughing. Was that Hjelmer?

  Goodie and the children ran out of their house with arms full of quilts and bedding. Two more men arrived with shovels and buckets tied to their saddles. Harnesses jingled in the crisp air.

  “There’s buckets over here. Let’s get the brigade going!” Solberg directed traffic, and the line formed.

  Where are Hjelmer and Olaf? Are they all right? She could see red behind the windows, a flickering red that meant one thing—the fire was growing.

  The large double doors to the loading dock burst open, and men threw burning sacks of grain out to the ground. One of the men took Penny’s place at the well, so she moved up the brigade line where they handed buckets hand over hand to the next person in line.

  “Let’s get some water up here on the roof of the house, just in case.” The line shifted.

  “What’s happening?” Penny took the place next to Goodie and passed her a bucket.

  “Man fell asleep with a cigar, they think,” she panted. “He must have been drinking too.”

  “God have mercy on us!” Penny’s hands burned from the crank and now the pail handles. Already her shoulders felt as if they’d been pulled from the sockets.

  More smoldering grain sacks were heaved out the door and doused with water.

  Two men, hacking and choking, staggered from the building. Even in the flickering lamplight, they could tell it was Olaf and Hjelmer.

  “Thank God.” The two women spoke at the same time.

  “Stop the buckets.” Hjelmer bent over and coughed till he had to lean against the wall.

  Haakan and Lars drove in with their wagons and all those big enough to fight the fire.

  “Too late,” Pastor Solberg called as they bailed out, buckets in hand.

  “You got it out?”

  “Ja, thanks to Penny here.”

  Goodie stood beside Penny, both of them still trying to catch their breath in the smoky air. The wind out of the west was quickly doing its air cleansing job. “You smelled it first?” she asked.

  Penny nodded. “Something woke me, and when I stepped outside to check because nothing was remiss in the house or the store, I could smell something different burning. Hjelmer figured out what it was.”

  “Ma, is the fire out?” Ellie pulled on her mother’s coat.

  “I told you and Hans to go out to the cellar.”

  “We did, but they said it was all right.”

  “Ja, then you go back on home now before you catch your death. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  “Thank you, Penny.” Goodie looked at her, shaking her head and wringing her hands.

  “You’re welcome. Anyone would do the same.”

  Penny and Goodie both wiped their burning eyes.

  “Ah, but you listened to the prompting of the Holy Ghost.” Pastor Solberg joined the two women.

  Penny shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’m just glad nothing much was destroyed.”

  “Uh, you don’t know, then?”

  “What?”

  “The man who was sleeping in there was killed, by the smoke most likely.”

  “Oh, merciful God.” Goodie patted Penny’s arm. “I’ll be right back.” She took a bucket of water, along with the dipper that hung at the well, to the men by the doors. One by one the buckets were brought back to the well, and Penny turned them upside down to drain. She’d wash them in the morning.

  “You’re a hero, Tante Penny!” Thorliff said at her side.

  “You mean heroine.” Pastor Solberg corrected him. He shook his head and sighed. “Guess you can’t get the teacher out of the man even in the midst of night and fire. Penny, we’re all thankful for your nose.”

  Hjelmer made his way through the crowd to drink right from her bucket. “Thankful is right. The whole town could have burned to the ground.” He dumped the remainder of the bucket over his head and shook water a
ll over everyone.

  “How did you know it was the sack house?” Solberg asked.

  “Back in the early years when we ran out of coffee—” He sucked in a deep breath and went into another coughing frenzy. When he could breathe again, he continued. “We toasted whatever grain we had and ground it. I burned it once and never forgot the smell.”

  “The Lord does provide.” Solberg shook his head. “And to think how long ago He put things in motion so you would know what was burning. He says, ‘Before you call I will answer.’ And so He did.”

  “Amen to that.” Hjelmer started coughing again. “The smoke was terrible. If Olaf hadn’t brought a lantern, we wouldn’t a got the body out. I near to fell right over it.”

  The group around them parted for Olaf and Goodie, arm in arm, to walk toward them.

  “We want to thank you for saving the sack house and our house too.” Olaf put out his hand to shake Hjelmer’s. “Some of the wheat is gone, sure, but it coulda been so much worse.”

  Goodie reached for Penny’s hand. She ducked her head, then straightened to look Penny full in the face in the flickering lantern light. “I got to ask your forgiveness for the way I been acting lately. I’m sorry, Penny. I started thinking crazylike. And over that silly sewing machine. All I could think was that you had the store and all, and you didn’t need more to do, and that I deserved to have the sewing machines to sell.” She shook her head and blinked several times along with a sniff. “I went crazy is all I can say. Foolish old woman that I am.”

  Penny remembered back to the terrible thoughts she’d had. “I forgive you, if you’ll forgive me.”

  Goodie shook her head. “Don’t know what for, but sure enough.” She looked over at the dark building. “Just think. Mr. Drummond coulda been sleeping there . . . like he did last week. Shame this poor man had to ruin it for everyone. Olaf said he’s never letting anyone sleep in there again.”

  “I told that man there could be no smoking and we don’t abide by drinking here, but some people never listen.” Olaf shook his head. “Poor fool.”

  “I think we better hurry up and get that boardinghouse built.” Hjelmer stood close enough to Penny for her to feel the heat of his body through their clothing. “Seems my mor has the right idea.”

  “As soon as I finish shipping the grain and the sack house empties, I’ll start making furniture for it. Tables and chairs and such. I have plenty of wood curing up in the rafters there. Had the fire got up there, those boards woulda burned real hot.”

  As the smoke blew away, the people started to leave, bidding each other good-night and heading back for their beds. Several men said they would be over to help clean up the mess in the morning. Penny shivered as the wind cut through her coat. “Good night, Goodie, Olaf. Morning is going to come mighty early.” She covered a yawn with her hand. Together she and Hjelmer turned back to their house.

  Once inside the door, Hjelmer said, “If the water’s hot, I’ll wash before I come up.”

  Penny checked the reservoir. “Not hot but good and warm.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She dipped him a basin full while he shucked his shirt and undershirt. After setting towels and soap beside the basin, she hung up her coat and removed her boots. Sniffing her coat sleeve, she made a face. “I’ll have to hang everything we wore out on the line in the morning.”

  Before noon the next day, Goodie knocked at Penny’s door, pies in hand. “Sorry I couldn’t get any bread done yet, but after dinner I can go put it in the oven. You need anything else?”

  “I don’t think so. Thank you.”

  “You want I should set the tables then?”

  Penny nodded while at the same time handing Goodie a spoonful of soup. “Taste that. I think it needs something more.”

  “Salt and some of that bay leaf, if you got any left from making headcheese. Might taste good in that.”

  “Sure do.” When she really looked at Goodie, Penny shook her head. “Are my eyes as red as yours?”

  Goodie nodded. “No doubt. That was some scare last night. And all because the man had to have his cigar and liquor. I keep asking the Lord to forgive me for thinking it serves him right, but the idea sure keeps popping back in my head. But we’re the ones who suffer too, and those whose grain was destroyed. Why, what if those buyers won’t pay premium price because of the smoke smell? You know how they use any little excuse to dock the prices.”

  “I been thinking the same but keep reminding myself to be grateful it wasn’t any worse. Who’s going to notify the man’s family?”

  “How? All he had was a letter in his pocket with no address. He had twenty-five dollars, five of it in gold and some change, a gold watch, and a Colt six-shooter in his bag.”

  “I sure don’t know how, but someone around here might have an idea or two.”

  Goodie shook her head. “His poor wife and children, if he’s got any. ’Twere me, I’d sure want to know.”

  The two worked side by side as they had so many times before, both of them knowing what had to be done and taking each task as it came. Between getting dinner ready, minding the store, and answering a million questions from those who came in, the morning flew by.

  Even the railroad men knew about the fire, so it was the prime topic of conversation around the tables, but when Goodie tried to describe the dead man, no one had any idea who he might be.

  “We’re having a meeting at the church after school is out,” Hjelmer told Olaf as they and the women ate dinner when the customers had all gone, “to discuss what to do with the body. There’s no ice left in the icehouse, so we can’t keep him for folks to identify later. Just wish we had someone who could draw a picture of him in case anyone coming through might be able to recognize him.”

  “I ’spose I can do that,” Olaf said, laying his knife down across his empty plate. “Leastways, I could give it a try.”

  “You can draw?” Goodie looked at her husband, astonishment arching her eyebrows.

  “Some.”

  “People’s faces?”

  “Um. Haven’t done it for a long time. Not much call for that workin’ your way around the country.”

  “Well, I never . . .” Goodie shook her head again, a small smile lifting just the corners of her mouth. A light of pride glowed in her washed blue eyes.

  “It figures. Anyone who is such an artist with a carving knife would be able to draw too.” Penny smiled at the man across her table. Gentle was a word she always came back to when thinking of Onkel Olaf. While he was a distant relative of Kaaren’s, he’d become onkel to all of them. Nearly every house in Blessing had something that Olaf had crafted, from oaken buckets to stirring spoons to fine furniture like tables or chairs or, in her case, the kitchen cabinet he’d given them for a wedding present. His hands bore the evidence of his work, with scars on the palm and across the back of his left hand. He’d told Thorliff that a knife slipped on that one.

  “It just makes me angry that he was drinking and smoking after you told him we didn’t allow such.” Goodie set the coffeepot down with more force than necessary. “What could he have been thinking of?”

  Himself was her silent response to the question that needed no answer.

  “So, what do we do about Frank?” Pastor Solberg began the discussion after opening the meeting with Scripture reading and prayer. “All we know about him is that his name is Frank and his wife’s name is Louise. They have two sons who are doing well in school.” Solberg glanced around the group. “We know this from the letter we found in his breast pocket.”

  “Olaf said he would draw a picture of the man’s face, and maybe we could do like they do with those wanted by the law.” Lars motioned toward Onkel Olaf, who nodded in return.

  “You mean put up Wanted posters?” Pastor Solberg’s voice sounded like his throat had been sandpapered. The smoke had given everyone who fought the fire a case of raw throat.

  “Not exactly. He weren’t wanted for anything, far as we know.” L
ars cleared his throat too. “But if something like that went out to the bigger cities and towns, someone might know him.”

  “Or we could just bury him and put his valuables in a bag in the bank vault and see if anyone ever comes asking for a Mr. Frank So-and-So,” Joseph Baard offered. “Be far easier.”

  “True. But I keep thinking about his widow. She has a right to know.” Solberg pursed his lips. “No, she has a need to know.”

  “Maybe we should let the sheriff in Grafton know about him. Wouldn’t he be the one to get any missing persons report? Surely his widow will turn in something like that.” Haakan leaned his elbows on his knees.

  “Only if she wants him back.” The men chuckled at Joseph’s sally.

  “Any other suggestions?”

  “We could send letters to some newspapers, saying we got this man’s belongings, like maybe in Grand Forks and Fargo.”

  “You could include Bismarck and Minneapolis.”

  “I could ask Kaaren to write the letters. She writes real good.”

  “All right, I get the feeling we want to send letters to the papers, and I believe contacting the sheriff is a good idea. That way no one here will be accused of murdering the man.”

  “I told him we didn’t allow drinking and smoking,” Olaf repeated.

  “No one in his right mind smokes around hay barns and grain storage. We all know that,” Hjelmer threw in.

  “That was the problem. No man who’s been drinking till he’s drunk is in his right mind.” Joseph rolled his eyes. “Just ask my Agnes. She’ll tell you. Her and all the women. They hate drinking worse than dust under the bed.” Several of the men chuckled along with him. Drinking at community events had caused a real stir for a time, until the women got their way and drinking was outlawed.

  “Now, we don’t know for sure he was drunk.” Solberg earned a communal snort for that comment.

  “If he weren’t drunk, the smoke woulda woke him up, or at least his coughing woulda.” Joseph leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Drunk as a skunk he was. I’d bet on it.”

  “Be that as it may, I’m not going to include it in the letters.” He turned to Lars. “Thank you for volunteering Kaaren, but I better do the letters myself. Sounds more official coming from the pastor.” He looked at Hjelmer. “You going in to Grafton in the next day or so?”