Ingeborg tried to bury her sobs in her hands and blood-stained apron, but it did no good.
Manda looked up at her. “Told you that prayin’ didn’t do no good. God don’t care about us.” She spun on her heel and left the room.
Her words echoed in the room. God don’t care about us.
Ingeborg sank down in the rocking chair. “Let me hold him,” she whispered, as if speaking aloud would wake the woman on the bed. Bridget placed the blanket-wrapped baby in Ingeborg’s arms.
She looked down at the round face framed with dark hair long enough to curl already. “He’s so perfect.” She gathered him to her cheek. “Why, oh why, couldn’t you breathe for us? At least your pa would have had you to remember her by.” Her tears washed his face, and she sobbed into the blanket.
Moving like a wooden puppet, Bridget gathered up the bloody sheets and rags and left the room. Metiz laid a hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder.
“Could do no more.”
“I know, but . . . oh, God, oh, God, why hast thou forsaken us?”
“He not leave. He here.”
Ingeborg shook her head. Heavy, it felt so heavy. Was that a door she heard opening? “Where’s Manda?”
“Went out.”
“Oh, we must help her.” She started to rise, but Metiz kept a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Chores will help her. Cows, the horses, they help.”
Between the three of them they had bedclothes boiling and breakfast cooking when Zeb and Manda returned to the house. Deborah clung to Ingeborg, tears leaking from her eyes no matter how much she brushed them away.
“The box will be ready in a couple of hours.” Zeb muttered his first words since he returned to the house.
“Haakan will be glad to do that for you.”
“No! And there will be one box.”
Manda stared at the oatmeal in front of her before flinging away from the table and running for the porch. They could hear her retching over the slop pail.
As soon as the meal was finished, Zeb and Manda both headed back to the barn without another word. A few minutes later they heard the jingle of the harnesses, and Manda pulled the wagon up to the front porch.
“I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll stay here.” Bridget spoke for the first time since she had placed the baby in Ingeborg’s arms.
“Ja.” Ingeborg reached for the older woman, and the two clung together, their tears saying all that words could not convey.
“Mange takk,” Bridget whispered. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
“Ja, I guess.” If she closed her eyes, the black pit yawned at her feet. “I will come back later and help you with washing her and all.”
“No.” Bridget shook her head. “I will do that. She is my daughter.”
Manda never said a word all the way to the Bjorklund farm. From the look on her face, Ingeborg almost doubted the girl would ever speak again.
How were they to help Manda and Zeb and Deborah? I’ll think about that later, Ingeborg promised herself as she fell into the arms of sleep.
But even in sleep’s arms, she could see the blood, bright red, that flowed over her hands, over the edge of the bed, and pooled on the floor. No, no, oh, God, make it stop!
“Inge. Ingeborg.”
She stepped back from the black pit that yawned at her feet, turning to the man who called her name with such love and concern. “Wha-what?”
“You were dreaming.” Haakan stroked her hair from her forehead.
“No.” Ingeborg shook her head. “No, it was not dream. Oh, Haakan.” She raised up to clutch his shoulders with both hands. “She bled to death right before our eyes, and there was nothing we could do.” The last words burst forth like the howl of an animal caught in a trap.
“Ah, my Inge.” He wrapped her in the protection of his arms and cradled her against his chest. “You try so hard and you do the best you can, but my dear love, you are not God.” He kissed her forehead and let her cry.
“But why—why does He turn His face from us?” She hiccuped between sobs. “Zeb, the girls, they need her so bad, and still she is gone. And the baby, ah, Haakan, he was so perfect, and he never even breathed. I cannot bear this. I cannot.” The bed shook with the force of her sobs.
Haakan let his tears wash her hair and gave her the only comfort he could—the warmth of his arms and the strength of his love.
Finally, she wiped her eyes on the bed sheet and gulped in a deep breath of air. Her head felt as if it was far too heavy for her neck to uphold. Her nose ran and she sniffed. The steady beat of his heart under her ear, the scratch of his wool shirt against her cheek, brought a lassitude that she had no will to fight.
“Sleep now, my Inge, and when you awake, all will be better.”
“Where are the children?”
“At Kaaren’s.” He wiped away another tear with the pad of his thumb.
“Don’t leave me alone.” She moved over. “Please.”
Haakan drew her into the curve of his body.
“They were going to call him Gustaf.”
“After Katy’s far?”
“Ja. I should go to Bridget and . . . and the girls.”
“No, you shall stay here.” He cuddled her even closer. “Sleep now.”
She yawned and kissed his hand. “Mange takk.” I wonder . . .
Chapter 29
Springfield, Missouri
“Something terrible has happened, I know it has.”
“Now, girl, you can’t know that for certain.” Uncle Jed leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He studied her face as if memorizing every inch. “But your ma could tell sometimes too. Guess it’s a family gift.”
Mary Martha started to close her eyes, but every time she did, the sense of doom deepened. “I wasn’t planning to leave until next week, but I think I better be ready in the morning. Could you please go to town today and check on the train schedule? We need a few things at the store too.” She looked deep into her uncle’s faded eyes. “Are you sure you won’t go with me, or at least come later?”
Jed shook his head. “Can’t do that. I’ll put in what crops I can. Hate to let too much go fallow. Sure wish Eva Jane’s man wanted to farm this place with me.”
“He’s not much of a farmer.” Mary Martha rolled her lips together.
“Good thing he’s helping his daddy, even though Eva Jane doesn’t like living that close to her in-laws. Least they got a good roof over their heads and plenty to eat.”
“They’d have that here too. If I had my druthers, I wish Zeb would come home.”
“I know.” She got up to pour them another cup of coffee. “But he likes Dakota, and I think if he left there, it would be to homestead a ranch in Montana. He sure did love the mountains out west.”
“If everybody leaves, who’s going to take care of the land here?”
After Uncle Jed had left for town, Mary Martha thought about his last statement while she gathered her things to pack in the trunk. Not really much she wanted from the house besides her mother’s Bible and her book of recipes for both food and medicinals. Eva Jane had taken their mother’s quilt from her bed and the rocker their father had made before he went off to war. Even though she’d moved furniture around in the front room, without the rocker, there was an emptiness there now.
With the trunk half packed, she stepped outside with a sharp knife and took starts from the white rose bush that smelled so sweet, the snowball bush, and the lilacs. After wrapping them carefully in a packet of damp earth, she wrapped them again in a bit of canvas and nestled them, along with seeds saved from the garden, in a corner of the trunk. If they took, she’d have another remembrance of home.
Old Blue announced Jed’s return long before she heard the horse. When he tied up at the house, she knew something was wrong. She met him at the door.
“Here.” The telegram he handed her near to burnt her fingers. Her hands trembled so hard she could
barely read the print. Katy and baby died in childbirth. Stop. Come soon. She raised stricken eyes to her uncle. “I told you.”
Blessing, Dakota Territory
The train wheels couldn’t turn fast enough. She peered out the dirty window, willing the train to hurry. Every time she thought of the fun-loving young woman who’d so quickly become her dearest friend, the tears started again. She’d asked Why, God? Why Katy? enough times that she figured her heavenly Father must be weary of her cries. Her prayers took up rhythm with the train wheels and Please, God, please, God clacked over and over in her mind. She was no longer sure who or what she prayed for, knowing only that they all needed His succor.
“Next stop, Blessing.” The conductor stopped at her seat. “You been here before, miss?” At her nod he continued with a broad smile. “You ever had dinner at the Bjorklund store? That Missus Bjorklund serves some of the best food west of the Mississippi. I heard they were starting a boardinghouse come spring.”
Mary Martha ordered her mouth to smile in return. Come spring. Hard to believe it’s even near with all the sparkling snow-drifts that ridge this flat land. Even as short a time as she’d been here, she’d forgotten how flat it was. “Yes, the Bjorklunds are good friends of mine.”
When the train stopped, a black man stood on the station platform holding a tray of sandwiches, pieces of cake, hunks of cheese, slices of pie, all ready to serve. As soon as the passengers stepped down, he nodded to the conductor and took his wares aboard.
Mary Martha checked to see that her trunk was unloaded and pulled her coat more closely around her. This was a far cry from the spring warmth burgeoning at home. Though the sun shone, there was little warmth to it, and the wind pierced her coat as though she wasn’t even wearing it. She’d just begun to wonder if they’d received her telegram when Pastor Solberg came trotting around the corner of the sack house.
“Miss MacCallister!” He panted to a stop. “Sorry I’m late. We had a problem at school.” He grinned at her, then snatched her hands and held them both. “You . . . you look wonderful.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Pastor Solberg.” The name felt strange upon her lips. She’d been thinking of him as John for so long now. She felt tears burning on the back of her eyes. “How is Zeb? What about the girls?” How are you? Deep down inside, how are you?
Solberg shook his head. “Zeb has closed himself off to everyone. Bridget is caring for the girls. And Manda, well, Manda is why I was late. Deborah looks more like the lost waif we saw when she first came, but of the three, I’d say she’s handling this the best. It has been really hard on Bridget too, but she keeps a good face on for the girls.” As he talked, he tucked her hand under his arm and led her toward the store. “We’ll get your trunk later. Penny has dinner ready. She’s already served her rush, as she calls it.”
Mary Martha wanted to smooth the deepening lines from his forehead. He too looked as though the times were hard, with the sheen of moisture in his eyes. After all, he’d once loved Katy. That thought made her swallow hard. Was that why he’d taken this death hard? Was he still in love with Katy? Or had he been? And if so, was he even aware of it himself?
The thoughts rushed pell-mell through her mind like children just let loose from the schoolhouse. But when she tried to withdraw her hand from his arm, he clamped his other hand over hers. The sensation of warmth sent her doubts scurrying. This was indeed the man whose written salutations had grown progressively warmer through the months of correspondence.
“Who was the Negro that brought food on the train?”
“Oh, that’s Sam, friend of Hjelmer’s from way back. He’s come to stay. Plans to bring his family out this spring.” Pastor Solberg pushed open the door to the store, setting the bell to tinkling merrily. “She’s here!” His shout brought Penny and Goodie running from the kitchen.
“Oh, Mary Martha. I’m so glad you’re here.” Penny started by taking her hand but ended with a hug before passing her on to Goodie, who did the same.
“Land, missy, you are a sight for sore eyes.” Goodie reached to help her with her coat. “I’m sorry to hear about your ma passing on, but it’s hard to doubt the good Lord’s timing in all this. We surely do need you here.”
“Soon as we eat, Hjelmer and I will take you on out to the farm.” Penny turned the store sign to Closed and led the way back to the kitchen.
“I have to get back to the school,” Pastor Solberg said, setting Mary Martha’s carpetbag on the floor. “I thought of closing school today, but we’ve missed several weeks due to the blizzards, and the children are trying to catch up. If circumstances were different, I’d wish you could stop and see them on the way. They’ve missed you too.” He’d taken her hand again, this time without gloves. The ripples of delight were still racing up and down her arm.
Did he feel them too?
When he finally released her hand and headed out the door with a final wave, she felt as if the sun had blinked dark for a moment. She turned back to the conversation flowing around her as they sat her at the table and began bringing food.
“So, tell me, how is everyone?” Mary Martha looked from one woman to the other.
“Been bad.” Goodie shook her head. “Hard enough losing little Anna, but then Katy and the baby . . . Makes one wonder at times, ’deed it does.”
“Can’t have the burying until the frost goes out of the ground, and I think that makes it even harder. Several others died too, but not anyone you knew personally. Those two boys that the Valders adopted been leading Pastor Solberg a merry chase, but he persists, and they are settling down.” Penny passed the bread plate around.
“They done took all we had, Miz Bjorklund.” Sam pushed the curtain aside. “Now ah’m needed out at the smithy.”
“Fine, Sam, and thank you very much.”
Sam tipped his hat and let the curtain to the store drape back in place.
“We sure have been fortunate to have Sam here, with Hjelmer out speaking for the Farmer’s Alliance. There’s talk of him running for the legislature.” A little frown cloud passed over Penny’s face. “I do wish he’d stay home more.”
“Oh, and Kaaren received a book on sign language to help little Grace speak. She’s going to be teaching it at the school, so next year when the twins go to school, all the kids can talk with her. Land, you can’t believe how fast those children learn it.” Goodie leaned forward. “Why Ellie and Andrew already move their fingers real fast, and then giggle, even in church. Makes me want to know what they are saying.”
As the two caught her up on the news of Blessing, all Mary Martha could think of was the MacCallister farm and the schoolhouse.
A knock sounded at the back door.
“Come in.” Penny didn’t bother to get to her feet.
The door cracked open and Manda peeked around the edge. “Pastor Solberg said we could leave school early to . . .”
The door slammed open and Deborah pushed past her older sister. She flung herself across the room to Mary Martha, who gathered the little girl close.
“My ma is gone to heaven and the baby and Anna.” It was difficult understanding her with her face buried in Mary Martha’s skirts, but the tears that streamed down her face when she looked up brought answering ones from the women.
“I feel like a sodden old dishrag half the time.” Goodie pulled a square of muslin from her apron pocket and blew her nose.
“I know, child, I know.” Mary Martha pushed her chair back from the table so Deborah could climb up in her lap. She hugged her, patting her back and rocking at the same time.
“Did you come back for good?” Deborah leaned back to look her aunt in the face.
“Yes. For good.” Mary Martha looked up to see Manda staring out the window. Glancing from Penny to Goodie and back to Manda, Mary Martha raised an eyebrow in question. Both the other women shook their heads and shrugged.
“Manda, you want some dessert with us?” Penny got up to pour the coffee.
“No.�
� One word only, but it clearly showed the walls she’d put up. John had been right in his observations of the two girls. Was Zeb, too, in as bad a way as he’d written?
Mary Martha wanted to ask, but refrained since the girls were there.
As soon as everyone was done eating, Penny turned to the girl who still hadn’t left the window. “Manda, would you please run to the smithy and ask Sam to harness up the horse and sleigh?”
Only a nod answered her as Manda slipped out the door, barely disturbing the air in her passage, so silent was she.
“No, you just sit back down,” Penny said when Mary Martha started to rise to help clear the table. “For today, at least, you are company.”
“I’ll take care of the store then while you drive them out?” Goodie spoke to Penny as she held the hot coffeepot above Mary Martha’s cup.
“No, thanks. I’m about floating now.” Mary Martha answered the unspoken question.
Penny nodded. “That would be good, thank you. The mail hasn’t come in yet, so there’ll be that to sort. And if you run out of things to do, you could always bake cookies. Those train passengers sure do like our cookies.”
“Molasses?”
“Or sour cream.” Penny smiled at Deborah. “Would you like a cookie?”
Deborah nodded. Manda knocked on the back door and came in at the same time. “He said ten minutes. He has to finish shoeing a horse first, but he is on the last hoof. Unless you want me to do it.”
“No, that will be all right. Manda, can you think of anything you need from the store-sugar, flour, anything?”
Manda shook her head and returned to staring out the window.
“Well, I’ll take some of that soft cheese along, and let’s see . . .” Penny strolled into the store, mumbling to herself.
Deborah snuggled closer to Mary Martha. “I’m glad you are here,” she whispered.
The ride out to the farm passed in a blur as the cold and wind made everyone’s eyes water. Mary Martha squinted against the brilliant white, amazed at the difference in the land since she’d seen it. “How much longer will the snow last?” she asked.
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