A New Day Rising (4 page)

He stopped to ask about the road he ran across, with grooves deeper than his knees, in the Minnesota rolling hills just before the Red River Valley

"That there's the Red River carts' track," the storekeeper said. "Used to haul supplies north from St. Paul and furs south from the fur traders. Them big-wheeled carts could be heard for miles, they squawked so. 'Tween them wheels squallin', the oxen bellerin', and them French Canadians swearing, those long lines were something to behold." He ran his thumbs under his apron strings. "Now, I ain't got nothing 'gainst the railroad, but it ain't nearly as colorful as the Red River carts. You be needing some supplies?"

Haakan nodded and gave the man his brief list. After asking directions, he set off at a northwestern angle to catch the ferry crossing the Red River at St. Andrew. Unbeknownst to him, he'd swung too far south in his western trek. It wasn't long before he crossed the railroad tracks running north and south. How much easier his trip would have been could he have caught a train.

Ice floes still joined the flotsam of the Red River in full spate.

Haakan stood on the east bank and stared across the muddy river. Too high for swimming, that was for certain, besides being far too cold. None of the folks he'd talked with had mentioned a bridge except for the one down south in Grand Forks. The town on the other side of the river hunkered down like the falling rain might wash it away, just as the river had obviously done with trees that once stood along the banks. Water-logged trees bumped branches with each other and with those still standing as they bobbed their way to the river mouth north on Lake Winnipeg. Perhaps he should go upstream and catch himself a ride on one of those floating logs. Surely he could steer it to the opposite bank at some point.

Water dripped from the brim of his hat, some missing the tarp he wore like a poncho, and ran freezing its way down his back. He needed to find shelter of some kind, that was for certain. He watched from under the partial protection of a tree as the biting rain turned to snow.

A cable hooked around the trunk of the solid tree farther back on the bank disappeared into the swirling river. Looked like in the summer, at least, they had a ferry to take travelers across. As the snowfall thickened, the wind caught the flakes, driving them directly into his face. There'd be no crossing the river this night. The afternoon light was quickly fading under the onslaught of the snow and wind.

He had a choice to make: camp here and hope for a better tomorrow or return to the farm he'd passed a mile or so back on the road. Haakan shivered under the meager protection of his tarp. As wet as it was, he knew he'd never get a fire going. And the snow still lying in the shaded places was wet as a puddle anyway.

The big question was, would this miserable weather turn into a full-blown blizzard or just remain an irritating snowstorm? He rose from his hunkered-down position by the trunk of the tree and headed back in the direction he'd just com...

Only thanks to the early lit lamps did he see the house off to the left through the swirling snow. Even so, if the dog hadn't barked, he might have trudged right on by, so easy it was to lose track of the distance in the now heavily falling snow. As he walked up to the back porch, Haakan heaved a sigh of relief. He would be safe now from the unsettled weather. When a man answered the knock, Haakan greeted him in his accented English, then stated his request.

"Do you think you could let me sleep in your barn tonight? I've been traveling some time, and-"

"The barn! Heavens no, you'd nearly freeze out there. You come on in. Had supper yet?" While the man only came up to Haakan's chest bone, his welcome filled the porch and followed them into the warm and cheery kitchen.

"Let me take my boots off out here." Haakan pointed to the porch.

"No, no, it won't be the first snow that's made it fer as the rug. Though Mattie don't like it when I track up her kitchen floor. You make yourself to home, and I'll go get her." With a gesture to indicate the chair and the stove, the man charged out of the room and headed for the stairs.

Haakan could hear him calling "Mattie, darlin'" as he climbed to the second floor. After removing his boots and hanging his dripping tarp on the enclosed porch, he hung his coat and hat on the tree by the door. Perhaps after supper they would let him put his things by the stove so they would be dry by morning. He looked around the spotless kitchen and extended his hands to the welcome heat emanating from the cast-iron cookstove. Now this was what a home should look like. White wainscoting halfway up the walls with sky blue paint covering the rest. Glass-fronted cupboards for the dishes, and counters enough for several people to work at once. He eyed the coffeepot shoved to the back so it would still be hot but not bubbling. How long had it been since he'd had hot coffee. Days? A week?

"My land, what could you be doing out on such a night as this?" A woman, as cheery as she was round, bobbed into the kitchen and immediately pulled the blue enameled coffeepot to the front burner.

"I was hoping to cross to St. Andrew, but-"

"I know, I know, that lazy son of Sam's didn't bother to answer your halloo. But not to worry, you make yourself right to home here while I get something warmed for your supper. You look like you could use a good feed."

Haakan shifted his gaze to the man-he'd said his name was Ernie Danielson-who stood grinning in the doorway. Ernie shrugged and dug in his pocket, removing a carved pipe and placing the stem between grinning lips. He shrugged again as if to say, "She's always this way, just be comfortable." Haakan raised an eyebrow, but his attention immediately returned to the bustling woman when she shoved a mug of hot coffee in his hand and pointed to the table.

"Unless you'd rather stand here to get warm?" Her dark eyes smiled up at him, then she quickly bent and opened the oven door. "I know just the thing."

Before he had time to offer to help her, she'd dragged a chair over to the oven door and almost pushed him down onto it.

Haakan felt as though he were caught in the middle of one of those twisters he'd seen one summer. But with all her goodwill, he could only do as he was told and murmur "mange takk," chasing it with a thank-you as he recovered his new language.

"Not to worry, we understand some Norwegian too," Ernie said with a wave of the pipe he'd not bothered to light. He took a chair at the table, and a cup of coffee appeared almost miraculously in front of him.

Haakan felt the warmth of the oven seep through the blocks of ice he called feet. No more had the thought of wishing he could take off his socks floated through his head than Mattie-he still didn't know their last name-left her skillet and turned to her husband.

"You go get him some dry socks out of that drawer in the spare room. Yours would be far too small for feet of his size." She shooed her husband out of the room. "Now we can put your boots on the oven door for the night, and I can see your coat and hat need some drying too. Anything else?" She stopped her stirring and put a hand to her mouth. "Ach, I done it again, ain't I? Just take over and order everyone around."

Haakan looked up into her merry eyes and couldn't suppress a chuckle. "No, ma'am, you remind me so much of my mor that I feel like I just walked into the door of my own home. And I've not been there for over fifteen years."

"And where was that?" She turned the bread she'd set to toasting over the fire under the open front lid.

Rich, meaty fragrances rose from the now steaming skillet and tantalized his nose. His mouth watered while he sipped on the hot coffee. He could feel the heat clear to the heart of him. "North of Valdrez, Norway, in a little hamlet where no one who lives more'n twenty kilometers away has ever heard of."

"Ach, you miss those you love, I'm sure." She took down a plate she'd had on the warming shelf on the rear of the stove and ladled beef stew with carrots, turnips, and potatoes onto the plate. "You can eat here or at the table, depending on how your feet are warming."

Ernie charged back into the room and waved three pairs of handknit woolen socks at his wife. At her nod, he handed them to Haakan. "Put these on before you eat, and I can guarantee the food'll taste better. Hard to appreciate anything when your feet feel nigh unto freezing."

With another murmured thank-you, Haakan did as he was told. Then he got to his feet and took the plate and cup to the table. Ernie followed with the chair, and after settling their guest, the two older people took the two chairs on the other side of the dining table. Mattie set the kerosene lamp to the side, and with coffee refilled for all of them, they both took a cookie from a filled plate set in the center of the table.

"Now, we can just visit." Mattie dunked her cookie in the coffee and rolled her eyes as if this were her own bit of heaven.

Haakan felt sure it was. By the time he'd cleaned his plate after the heaping refill Mattie insisted he accept, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm thinking you saved my life this night."

"I doubt it. You look to be pretty self-sufficient to me. But you surely made our evening brighter. Until the spring work starts, we live pretty much by ourselves. Once we can get out on the fields, the men make their way back, and then we have a full bunkhouse and a cook to help Mattie, besides."

"Ach, how those men love to eat." Mattie's smile of reminiscence said as much for her love of cooking as it did for the men who enjoyed eating it.

- Haakan could tell she liked having others to care for. The socks warming his feet said as much for her knitting skills. There were no bumps to cause blisters on unwary feet in the smoothly turned heel.

"How many men work here?"

"During the winter, just us and our foreman. As far as Bonanza farms go, we're pretty small, but the owners let us run it like it was our own. We repair machinery all winter long and get it ready so breakdowns won't slow us down come spring."

"What really is a Bonanza farm? I've heard all kinds of tall tales about the tons of wheat grown." Haakan leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table.

"There are hundreds and even thousands of acres in one farm. We can handle it since the machinery got so much better. The farms are usually owned by someone back East and managed by folks like us. We made them rich, we did. You be looking for work?"

Haakan shook his head. "I left logging in the north woods to come help some relatives of mine over on the Dakota side. Their husbands died a winter ago."

Ernie and Mattie swapped glances. "What did you say was your last name?"

"Bjorklund. Why? Do you know them? Kaaren and Ingeborg Bjorklund?"

"Well, I never ... Small world we live in, for sure." Mattie leaned her elbows on the table. "Such a tragedy, them two young women left all alone like that. And that Ingeborg. She's some worker, that one."

"How do you know them?"

"Why, Ingeborg and her sister-in-law bring us cheese and butter, chickens, and produce in the summer. They sell to the Bonanza farm to the south of us, too. I don't know how'they do it. And that little Thorliff, he's taken on a man's job, and he's only seven, or is it eight now?" Mattie turned to her husband for confirmation.

He'd finally gotten his pipe drawing and nodded around the fragrant smoke that wreathed his head. "Eight, I think. I surely hope they stood the winter all right. Of course, it helps now that Lars Knutson-he used to run a threshing crew-and the other Miz Bjorklund married last fall. They surely did need a man's help if'n they was to keep the land. Those two Bjorklund brothers was working fools, too. I told 'em they could come work for me anytime, but they was too busy breakin' sod."

Haakan nodded, grateful for the information. "I'm not surprised. Their father, Gustaf, has a fine reputation at home, and I'm sure he trained his sons to be like him." I could have stayed in the north woods, he thought, or gone back to the farm I worked at last summer and saved myself a trip.

"Yah, you Norwegians be good workers, that's for certain sure. As I said, if'n you want work, you come to me."

"I will think on it, but my mor would be mighty put off if I don't help out our relatives. I have a job back in the Minnesota north woods come winter, so perhaps I will stop on the way back." Haakan took one of the cookies when Mattie pushed the plate closer to him. "Thank you."

"Or you could come with the women when they bring their wares. I sure am hoping they keep coming. That Ingeborg makes the best cheese this side of heaven." Mattie smacked her lips and dunked another cookie in her coffee.

The three visited a bit longer, and then Mattie led the way to the spare room that looked more like home than any spare room Haakan had ever seen. A colorful nine-patch quilt covered the double bed, and a braided rag rug lay beside it on the dark painted wood floor. She set the lamp on the dresser and looked around.

"There are towels there in the commode, and there'll be hot water in the reservoir, should you be wanting to shave and wash in the morning. Heat will come up through the register in the hall, so you might want to leave your door open to let it in. Now, you have anything that is damp in your pack, you hang it on the rack to the side of the register. Ernie stoked the fire good so it won't be out by morning." She headed out the room and stopped at the door. "You sleep well now, you hear? You got nothing to worry about."

"Thank you, Miz Danielson."

"Mattie."

"All right." Haakan dropped his arms to his side. "But thank you, and I hope I can do something in return for all this bounty you've been so kind to share with me."

She shook her head and tossed a smile over her shoulder. "You already did." She went out, a chuckle under her breath.

Haakan stood there, questions ripping through his mind like a freshly sharpened saw through green wood. Never one to let things lie, he headed out the door after her. She was halfway down the stairs but turned when he called her name.

"What did I do but impose on your good graces?"

She looked up at him and shook her head. "Why, you're going to help out my friend, Ingeborg. And who knows what manner of good will come of that." She quirked her head, her round face beaming. "Would you rather have pancakes or johnnycake for breakfast, Mr. Bjorklund?"