A Dream to Follow (22 page)

“Here come the Solbergs.” Andrew stood. “I need to go take care of their horses.”

“My vest is too little.” Trygve moved over into Andrew’s spot so he could smile at Metiz.

“Ah, you want another?” Metiz took his broad hint.

“Ja. I gave mine to Lydia.”

“When Metiz makes a vest, it never wears out.” Ellie propped her elbows on her knees since she and all the children sat in the same cross-legged pose as their storyteller. “Tell us about when you were little. Please?”

Metiz chuckled. “You know stories by heart.”

“But you tell them better.”

When Ingeborg rang the bell for dinner, Ellie and Andrew stood beside Metiz in case she needed help getting up. Sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t. Today she allowed them to help her. After the other children ran to be with their parents, she turned to her young helpers. “You two fine friends. Thank you.” She gazed up at Andrew, who’d passed his mother’s five foot seven inches a month earlier. “You fine man one day. Take good care of land.” She reached for Ellie’s hand and put it into Andrew’s. “And Ellie.”

“Ja, I will.” He crooked his arm for Metiz to hold on to as they made a slow way over to the tables.

Ingeborg watched them come, the two children making Metiz look even smaller between them.
She’s growing more frail and smaller each year. Lord, help me be ready to let her go when her time comes
. She let out a breath in a puff, glancing over to where Joseph was helping Agnes to the table. Metiz and Agnes, her two best friends. And both of them weakening before her very eyes. “Lord God, how can I help them?”

“What did you say?” Penny stopped beside her.

“Oh, nothing.” Ingeborg put her thoughts away and motioned to the tables. “Would you please ask Pastor Solberg to say the blessing?”

“Of course.” Penny patted Ingeborg’s arm as she left. “All will be well.”

Ja, all will be well. I must remember that. I must remember that God is indeed in control, that He is the Good Shepherd
. A soft chuckle came from another part of her mind.
And not you, Ingeborg
.

She glanced down the tables to see that Anji stood beside Thorliff, and Manda, arm still wrapped but no longer in a sling or splint, was across the table from Baptiste. Somehow she had to arrange time with Manda, but how? Ingeborg chuckled at herself. Of course, she needed to check on that arm.

Quiet settled as Pastor Solberg asked everyone to bow their heads. “Most gracious heavenly Father, we thank thee for this family gathered together and that some of us are grafted into this family like we are all grafted into thee. Bless this food prepared with loving hands and, Lord, if it be thy will, please bring rain for our cattle and crops. In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord, amen.” Everyone spoke a heartfelt amen along with him and took their places, laughter rising like steam from a washtub.

Bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and greens, followed by platters of sliced pork, venison, and beef made their way along the diners. Since everyone had brought whatever they’d had baking in the oven for dinner, the tables soon groaned under full plates. Kaaren poured coffee from the gray granite coffeepot, and Ilse carried a jug of milk in one hand and buttermilk in the other. Ingeborg refilled bowls and platters as fast as they emptied, until the pots and pans ended up in a tub of hot soapy water.

No one left the table hungry, but there weren’t even crumbs left of the cakes and pies.

Goodie Wold headed up the cleanup crew, since her family had joined the others for dinner as well. She insisted that those with a bun in the oven should put up their feet and Ingeborg and Kaaren should join them. She and the younger ones could wash and dry the dishes.

On one of her treks to the kitchen, Ingeborg stopped Manda, still favoring her arm. “Manda, how about I check your arm while all this is going on?”

“All right.” Manda used her shirttail to wipe sweat from her brow. “Sure is hot today.”

“I know.” Ingeborg pointed to the bedroom. “Let’s go in there.”

She sat Manda on a stool and took the chair for herself.

“Mor?” Andrew’s voice made her roll her eyes.

“Can’t get away anywhere, can we?” She went to the door. “In here. What do you need?”

“Can we go swimming?”

“Perhaps later. You just ate.”

“So we can go in a little while?”

“You must ask the other folks too. And you must have Thorliff along.”

“Baptiste said he would like to go. I’ll ask everyone else.”

“What are the men doing?”

“Playing horseshoes.”

She returned to her patient.

“I would like to go swimming too.” Manda slumped against the back of the chair.

“Let me see your arm first.”

“You mean I could go?” Straightening, she held out her arm. “Looks awful dirty, I know, but that sling and the splints”—she shook her head—“just got in the way somethin’ awful.”

“Have you been training horses anyway?”

Manda looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “ ’Course. But one handed weren’t too easy.”

While they talked, Ingeborg cut the knots off and unwound the bandage, resting Manda’s arm between her hip and elbow. “Can you move your fingers without pain?”

Manda never flinched as she moved her fingers.

“Did that hurt at all?”

“Not enough to bother.” The girl started to clench her fist but seemed to think the better of it.

“I see.” With gentle fingers, Ingeborg probed the area of the break, studying Manda’s eyes for any sign of pain she’d try to hide. “Now clench your fist slowly and stop if it hurts.”

Manda did as she was told and bounced on the stool when she could close her hand tight. “Look, it don’t hurt.” She rubbed her arm with her other hand. “But my arm shrunk.” Manda held the two arms straight out. The left one was not only white and wrinkled but was indeed smaller than the browned right.

“That happens when you can’t use it. You will have to rebuild the strength in it, and that takes time.”

Manda sighed. “Everything takes time.”

“True. Wrap it up when you’re doing hard work. You could rebreak it so easily. Otherwise use it like always. Just don’t expect it to work as well as the other.”

Ingeborg wished she could have had different news because the cloud settled back on Manda’s brow. How to get her talking?

“Have you been having a good visit with Zeb?”

Manda nodded, keeping her gaze on one thumb rubbing the other.

“Sure wish he was going to stay around here.” Ingeborg picked up Manda’s now healed arm and began to massage it.

“He has more horses at his ranch in Montana.”

“Is he planning to take the heavy stallion back with him?”

Manda shrugged. Years earlier Zeb had taken the train back to Ohio and brought a Belgian stallion to service all the area’s mares so they would have sturdier horses for the fieldwork.

Ingeborg waited, hoping Manda would get uncomfortable with the silence and volunteer something. But nothing came forth. “You must want to see his ranch real bad.”

Manda glanced up, eyes slightly squinted, then down again. “He said he’d bring more horses for training next year.”

“Thorliff said you are really a good trainer.”

Manda nodded.

“Is Baptiste going back with Zeb?”

Manda shrugged again, letting Ingeborg see only the part in her hair.

Ingeborg patted her arm. “Does that feel better?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” Manda bolted from the room.

Mary Martha is right. Something is definitely going on
. Ingeborg turned at the sound of stamping feet.

“It’s not fair.” Astrid and Sophie, arms clamped across their chests and chins jutting a mile, stopped in the doorway.

“What’s not fair?” Ingeborg asked over her shoulder, putting her supplies away.

“The boys get to go swimming and we don’t.”

“Ah.” Ingeborg knew without further questions. She thought a moment, finger to her chin. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“There’s enough ice left in the icehouse—we’ll make ice cream.”

“And they won’t get any?”

“We’ll share, but we’ll get first helpings.” As the girls turned, Ingeborg grabbed Astrid’s arm. “Now don’t you go telling, you hear?”

“We won’t.” But the dancing lights in her daughter’s eyes told Ingeborg differently.

“As soon as they leave, you fetch the eggs and cream from the springhouse. We’ll get Haakan to bring over a gunnysack of ice.”

“We can get it.”

“After the boys go, I’ll go with you.” The thought of the shady coolness of the icehouse was inviting. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? If only they had lemons too. Surely there were a few strawberries left.

Later, as she and the girls crossed the field to the icehouse, she thought again to Manda. Where had she gone?

Suddenly a scream echoed from the river.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Help! I’m stuck!”

Thorliff turned in the direction of the voice. The sun- and shadestreaked river made locating the problem difficult.

“Help!”

“It’s Hamre.” Baptiste threw himself back into the water and swam out to the floundering boy.

“Andrew, go get Far.” Thorliff ran into the sluggish water and dove out as far as he could.
God, please don’t let him drown. Please let him live
. He gagged on a mouthful of water as he stroked with all his strength.

Hamre struggled in the water, arms flailing. “I’m caught. My foot is caught in something.”

“Take it easy. I’ll go down and see.” Baptiste jackknifed, driving himself straight down. When he came up, he shook the hair out of his eyes. “I can’t see anything. The water is too muddy.”

“Hamre, can you swim upstream?” Thorliff treaded water using the breaststroke to stay in one place. While the river appeared to be hardly moving, it kept pulling him downstream and dragging Hamre under.

Hamre went under again and came up spluttering. “I am trying.”

Thorliff studied the riverbank. Was there anything there they could use? A willow tree grew near the edge. If they climbed that to bend a branch down, would it reach to Hamre?

“I’m going down again.” Baptiste dove under the water. When he came up, he gulped air. “Feels like a root or tree branch. If I could stay down longer . . .”

Thorliff turned toward the shore. “Trygve, get my knife out of my pants.”

“I have one too,” Trygve responded. Hamre gulped water and choked.

Thorliff swam back to shore. With the river so low, at least he didn’t have far to swim. He took one knife and thought a moment. Handing it back, he pointed to the clothes on a tree branch. “Get my shirt and your knife.”

Trygve splashed up the bank and, grabbing the shirt and knife, dragged them back. “Here.”

Thorliff tied the sleeves in knots and put a knife in each, then buttoning the shirt around his neck, he swam back out to Hamre and Baptiste.

“I . . . I can’t . . .”

“Yes, you can. Turn and face upriver.”

“I can’t. My foot . . .”

“All right. Baptiste and I will take turns cutting the branch.”

“Don’t cut my leg.”

“We won’t.” Thorliff turned back to Baptiste. “How big is the branch or root or whatever it is?”

“We need a saw.”

“Can one of us stand on the thing and hold Hamre up?”

“No. It goes straight down.”

“Then we’ll have to try to chop on it.”

“I’ll go first.” Knife in hand, Baptiste sucked in a huge breath and dove again.

Thorliff counted the seconds. One minute passed.

“Did he drown?” Hamre’s eyes looked big as plates.

Baptiste’s head broke the water. After he got a breath, he held his finger about three inches apart. “That far below his foot, I cut on that side of the root. Feel it with your fingers. You can’t see nothing. I cut downward like slivering kindling.”

Thorliff nodded. He took two deep breaths and dove, his ears popping as he followed Hamre’s leg down. Thanks to Baptiste’s instructions, he found the cut, and digging the knife blade in, he tried to slice the strips off. The waterlogged root seemed hard as granite. His lungs screamed for air. He made another slash, pushed against the root, and headed for the surface. His head broke the surface just as he thought he’d suck water.

Gasping and floundering, he felt the blessed air fill his starving lungs. “We’ll never get through that with these knives. I’m going for that willow tree. Hang on, Hamre.”

Thorliff swam to the bank, beckoned Trygve and another boy, and pointed to the willow. “I’ll go climb up the tree first. You come if we need more weight.” He climbed the trunk hand over hand up the branches until the tree began to bend. “Come on, we need more.”

“Thorliff, what are you doing?” Haakan ran down the shallow bank with Lars following right behind him.

“Got to bend the tree over for Hamre to hold on to while someone saws off the root that’s holding his foot.”

“Andrew, go get a saw.” Haakan started for the tree. “Get two.”

Thorliff climbed higher. The tree bent, but not enough.

Baptiste reached for the nearest branch and missed. Hamre went under again. Baptiste yelled to Trygve. “Get a reed, up there.” He pointed upriver. “A dry one that’s hollow.”