She clamped her jaw shut, but he could tell what she was thinking. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“Well, let’s get these chores done so we can git on up to the house. How soon before that gelding can be sold, do you think?”
“ ’Pends on how much you want him trained. He don’t much like either harness or rider yet. I get the feelin’ he’d soon dump me as blink.”
“I was hoping for next week or so. Couple of men are coming.”
“What they lookin’ for?”
“Not sure. But I wanted something to show them. Why don’t you work him more under saddle and see if you can get him smoothed out some?”
“I could get a lot more done if I didn’t have to go to that noaccount school every stupid day.”
“Manda, your mouth.”
“That weren’t swearin’.”
“But no way for a young lady to talk.”
“I ain’t no young lady. So there!” She made the condition sound worse than measles.
Zeb sighed. “Just work on the horse every spare minute you got, all right?” He snagged a bucket off a hook where he’d hung it to keep clean. “I’ll get the milking done. You take the pigs and chickens, since you already fed the horses.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You did feed all of them, didn’t you?”
She gave him that look again, then dipped a bucket of oats out of the grain bin and huffed her way out the barn door. Caring for the chickens was Deborah’s chore, but not wanting to leave Katy alone for a minute, Zeb had asked Deborah to remain inside. Besides, the little girl had been looking a mite peaked herself lately.
He brushed the cow’s udder off, then set the stool beside her and sat down, leaning his forehead into her flank. The ping of the first streams of milk in the bottom of the metal bucket soon turned to the shush, shush of a filling pail. He squirted a stream into the mewing cat’s mouth and continued milking. The sound of animals chewing hay or grain, the rustling of the hay, the plop of manure from one of the other cows, the crying of the barn cats all spoke of a well-run barn. Steers lowed from the outside corral, reminding him that he’d neglected them so far. A horse whinnied, answered by another.
What is going on up at the house? Thoughts of the black smudges circling around Katy’s eyes ever since she had a cold made him want to wrap her in goose down and build walls around her to keep her safe. But the danger came from within.
On their trip to Montana she’d been an indomitable rider once she became accustomed to the daily routine. Her love of life and vitality were what drew him to her. No one in his entire life teased him and made him laugh as Katy did.
He smiled, recalling an incident on their trip.
“What’s the matter, cowboy, can’t keep up?” Her English-Norwegian language mix both confused him and made him laugh.
“I can keep up. I just don’t want to wear the horses out.” While the land seemed flat, the grade was always up, moving toward the peaks in the distance. He’d never seen such mountains as those far ahead of them, hanging like blue dreams in the distance and drizzled with snowfields on the tops like frosting dripping down a cake.
“We have mountains like that at home, the whole length of Norway. You should come see them sometime.”
“Katy, this is home now.” He nudged his horse to trot beside hers.
She shook her head, setting the broad-brimmed hat she wore to flopping. “No, Dakota is home. Montana is just a dream.”
And the wild horses they caught were a dream come true. Along with the heavy stallion he bought in Ohio, he had the basics for starting a fine breeding ranch. But best of all, he had Katy.
Zeb brought himself back to the barn and the cow, who turned her head and looked at him, a question in her big brown eyes.
“Yeah, I know. We’re done.” He set the pail to the side, then stood and picked up the stool. The dream of a lifetime, that trip to Montana. And they’d found the perfect valley to homestead. Trees, pasture, creek—everything he ever needed or wanted. And Katy.
She was sound asleep when he got back up to the house. Manda had finished before him and begun the supper fixings.
“Sorry, Pa, I don’t know how to fry the meat.” Deborah looked up at him, her blue eyes shadowed with worry.
“But she peeled the potatoes and carrots.” Manda was quick to stick up for her. She turned from working at the stove, where a frying pan sizzled forth the aroma of ham slices cooking. Another two pots bubbled on the back of the stove.
“Looks to me like you got everything under control.” Zeb dipped hot water from the reservoir into the washbasin and took it over to the dry sink to wash.
When he no longer smelled like cow, he brushed back his hair with damp hands and headed for the bedroom to check on Katy. She lay on her side, her distended belly making any other position impossible. If only she didn’t look so pale, as though there wasn’t enough blood under her skin to live with. The babe was surely taking more than his share. Zeb sat down in the rocker by the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. This was becoming a familiar place. He had spent many hours sitting here praying, thinking, praying, dreaming, and praying again.
The words were mostly the same. Dear Lord, keep Katy safe and bring her and the baby to full health again.
“Hi,” Katy whispered, stretching out her hand. She turned her head to glance out the window, then threw the covers back and started to rise.
He sat beside her on the bed. “Where you goin’?”
“Supper. I’ve got to get supper. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
“Easy now.” He pushed gently on her shoulder. “The girls have that under control, and if you go rushing out there, you might hurt their feelings, make them think they can’t get a meal on the table.”
“Zeb, that is a bunch of . . .”
He raised a finger to his lips. “Now, now, little mama, take it easy for little Zeb there. He doesn’t like being awakened so fast, leastways that’s what you tell me.”
“Ooomph.” She laid a hand on the side of her belly. “Did you have to remind him? That little guy can kick worse’n any mule I ever met.”
Zeb laid his hand on hers atop her belly, and both hands bounced up. Zeb felt a thrill shoot clear up his arm and straight to his heart. That was his son in there, kicking like a wild kid in a dirt fight.
Katy lay back panting. “What if there are two in there dancing the polka or something?”
“Metiz says just one.”
“I know. Zeb”—she stroked his dark wavy hair back—“I’m thinking of asking my mor if she could come and help me. She volunteered a few weeks ago, but I thought I could handle everything. I should be able to, but I’m so terribly tired. What do you think?”
“Can I go get her right now?” His slow smile brought one back from her.
“No, I think we can eat first.” She lightly punched him on the shoulder. “I meant tomorrow.”
“You know what I really think?”
“No, what?” Her eyes darkened, making him sorry he teased her.
“I think I am married to a very wise woman who isn’t letting her pride get in the way.”
“No room for pride with what I’ve already got in my way.” She stroked her belly with both hands, as if she could calm the new life within. “Did you know he likes me to sing to him?”
Zeb looked at her and shook his head. “He’s a smart one then, ’cause I know how much I like you to sing to me.”
Her eyes grew wistful. “We do sound good together, don’t we?”
“We do everything good together, and don’t you forget it.” He got to his feet and, taking her hand, helped her roll into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, then raised her to her feet. “You want your slippers?”
“Ja, if I could see my feet to slip them on.”
Zeb knelt and slid the sheepskin moccasins on her feet, the fluffy wool inside keeping her warm and dry.
“Mange takk.”
“Velbekomme.”
“I will in a minute. I just want to finish putting in this sleeve.” While she’d gotten real good on the straight seams, going around a curve and keeping the seam the same width still took strict concentration. When she finished, her heartfelt sigh made him smile.
“All right. Now you try this on, and let’s see how it looks.” Ingeborg held up the coat of heavy brown tweed that was supposed to have been Haakan’s Christmas present. She pushed her chair back and held the garment for him to put his arms in the sleeves. “I’ve got to line it yet, so it will fit a bit differently, but . . .” She arranged the lapels and tugged on the shoulders to make the garment hang straight.
Haakan smoothed down the front of the coat. “This is the finest coat I have ever had.” He shook his head and stared at his wife. “You did this.” The awe in his tone made her smile.
“You like it then?”
“Ah yes, I like it.” He brushed down the sleeves and flexed his shoulders. “You think the cows will like it?”
“Haakan, you wear that out to the cows, and . . .” She sputtered to a close when she saw the teasing glint in his eye. He looked so handsome. She walked around him, tugging here and there, as much to touch him as to straighten the coat. “You think it is wide enough in the shoulders?” Ax handle width, that’s what they were. The day he’d come striding across the prairie that spring flashed into her mind. He’d carried his ax across his shoulders then and asked if he could help her and Kaaren, telling her right away that he planned to return to lumbering in northern Minnesota as soon as the cold set in again.
“I have to put shoulder pads in, and that will make it fit better here.” She lifted the top of the sleeves. But he had stayed. God, I thank you every day for this man of mine . Her gratitude held a tinge of sadness still for Roald, who’d gone to help the neighbors after a terrible blizzard and never returned. That sadness returned at any death, like that of little Anna.
“What is it, my love?” Haakan laid a hand along her cheek.
Ingeborg sighed and turned her face to plant a kiss in his rough palm. “Just thinking.” She took his hand in hers. “I think you need some goose grease. Look at these cracks.” She motioned for him to remove the coat, then hung it on a wooden hanger carved by Baptiste for her Christmas present. With the coat hanging, she pushed her chair closer to the sewing machine and put her precious scissors in the drawer along with the pins and needle and thread.
“There now, come.” Taking his hand, she pulled him out to the kitchen, and after warming the can with goose grease in it, she smeared it on his hand and began to massage it in.
“Um, that feels good.”
“Ja, and so you would think you would do this once in a while.”
“Feels better when you do it.” He leaned forward and nuzzled the side of her neck with his lips. “You smell good.”
“Give me your other hand.” The warmth of his mouth set her heart to hammering. A log whooshed in the firebox. Paws whimpered from his box behind the stove. She turned her head, and his lips captured hers. So much for the goose grease.
As soon as the boys were off to school the next morning, Ingeborg made her way along the shoveled paths to the well house. Four-foot banks of snow on either side of her attested to the shoveling the men had already done. She was constantly amazed at how quickly a snowstorm could drift the paths full of snow again. The poles with rope strung between them laid blue shadows on the pristine surface this morning, mute testimony to the blizzard that had blown through the area the day before. The wind howling around the house sounded even more vicious than around the soddy eaves, drawing her back toward the black pit that called her name.
Especially since Anna died.
The tears that sprang so unexpectedly froze on her cheeks before she could open the door to the two-room sod building. Haakan had kept the stove burning since the day before, when she set the kettles of milk to heat and set for curds. Today she would cut the solid curd and drain them, then fill the presses. The slightly sour smell of the dirt floor, the spongy feel of the curds, and the sun streaming in the one window quickened her step. Some she would set to drain in the cheesecloth for soft cheese. The rest would go in the presses to harden off and cure.
Humming a tune, she cut through the curd first all one direction, then crosswise, then at various slants. The smaller the curd, the better the whey drained away. The pigs would be overjoyed with their grain drenched in the clear liquid left from the draining.
She checked the back room where Haakan had built shelves along both walls to house the great wheels of cheese while they cured. Using a piece of charcoal, she had written a date on each waxed wheel so she would know when they were ready to cut or sell whole.
“Ingeborg?” Bridget called.
“In here.” She returned to the main room. “We surely do need more storage if we keep those heifers and make more cheese.” She wiped her hands on her apron and went to the stove in the corner to refill the firebox.
“Astrid wants to go over to Kaaren’s. Do you mind if I take her? I’ll be right back.” Bridget sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good in here, despite the soddy smell.”
“Ja, that never goes away no matter how many times I whitewash these walls.” She poured the drained curds from the wood-slatted strainer into the wooden mold and set the top in place. “She can stay home if you don’t want to go.”
“No, I want to be outside while we can. I got me a feeling there’s another snowstorm on the way, so we better enjoy the sun while we can. You think Haakan would make Astrid a pair of skis?”
“Or Lars. Check with Kaaren. There might be some short ones over in their old soddy. I think we been putting all the skis up on the rafters.” Ingeborg cranked the handle down as she talked, more whey draining out the sides of the press.
“I will look. She’s a good age to learn. She and Trygve both.”
“Ja, we missed out on skating this year. There has been so much to do.”
“I’ll be back soon. Then I can work out here, and you can go sew if you’d like.”
“Don’t tempt me.” The cold draft that blew in through the open door warned her that the wind was picking up again. Suddenly the room seemed darker again, even though the square of sunlight that moved across the floor hadn’t dimmed.
“Ingeborg? Bridget?” Zeb’s voice called her now. She went to the door and cracked it open.
“We’re out here. Go on in and make yourself at home. Pull the coffeepot forward too if ’n you want some. I’ll be there in a minute.” She refilled the kettles from the milk cans, added wood to the stove, closed the damper, and gathered the things that needed washing into a basket. There would be more to make tomorrow, but for right now, the cheese house was caught up.
“So, how is Katy?” Ingeborg asked after pouring the coffee and setting out pieces of apple cake.
“I wish you and Metiz would come look at her. While she tells me all pregnant women feel this way, I look at her and just don’t know. She’s so tired all the time that she falls asleep in the chair at meals. She hardly eats because nothing tastes good to her. I thought women ate a lot when they were carrying. And her feet. She can hardly get them in the slippers Metiz made her for Christmas.”
“How about if we all come tomorrow? Bridget can go home with you today. You did bring a wagon?”
He nodded and smiled at both her and his mother-in-law. “I didn’t know if you rode astride or not.”
Bridget shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Our workhorses at home were for pulling not riding, so I do much better in a wagon. However, if we had skis, I could probably get there faster than you can with the team.”
“Really?” He looked to Ingeborg for confirmation.
“I should warn you. If she offers you a bet and it involves skiing, you’ll lose every time.”
The three of them chuckled, and Zeb studied Bridget. He knew she had to be in her sixties at least, but she hadn’
t slowed down a mite since he met her. He remembered Hjelmer saying his mother was too old to run a boardinghouse. While he thought that about skiing, he was glad he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t need both these women after him, and they still teased Hjelmer.
Bridget touched his hand. “Zeb, you are worrying for nothing. Katy is a good strong Norwegian girl. Why, she was made for having babies.”
Zeb nodded and looked to Ingeborg. “You’ll ask Metiz then?”
“You’ll have the three best midwives in Dakota Territory at your service, sir.” Ingeborg and Bridget nodded at the same time.
I just hope that’s enough, he thought. Please, God, make it enough.
Chapter 26
“Ah, Mor, I’m so glad you came.” In her relief Katy slipped back into Norwegian.
“You wouldn’t let me come sooner, remember?”
“I know. You always said I was a stubborn one.” Katy rolled up to a sitting position on the sofa. “Uff da. Do all women feel like a clumsy ball this close to their time?”
“Ja, they do.” Ingeborg took Bridget’s heavy coat along with her own and hung them on the coatrack by the door. When she returned, she sat in the chair beside Katy.
Katy smiled at Ingeborg and Metiz. “Thank you for coming too. It is so nice to have visitors. With the girls in school, the days get long, since Zeb won’t let me do very much.” She clasped her hands together over her distended belly. “I don’t even have anything baked to go with coffee.”
“That’s no problem. We brought plenty.” Ingeborg indicated the basket. “For dinner too.”
Katy leaned against the back of the horsehair sofa. Pushing her hair back with her hands, she shook her head. “I don’t know how there can be any room in here for food, but the last two days I been wanting to eat everything I can find. For a time there, I couldn’t bear to eat at all. Zeb made me eat.”
All the while she talked, Metiz and Ingeborg watched her. The pale skin, tremors in her hands, her feet and legs swollen like sausage skins about to burst. While Katy had tried to do her hair, the golden strands hung listlessly around her face.
Tender Mercies Page 24