No Distance Too Far (28 page)

“Threat, eh? Leave it to you, Astrid. But sometimes we have to look not for a specific verse but for examples. If God didn’t care about women’s health, why did Jesus heal the woman who’d been bleeding all those years, most likely due to having had children.”

“True.”

“What did Jesus say?”

“ ‘Who touched my clothes?’ and—” she squinted to remem-ber—“ ‘Thy faith hath made thee whole.’ ”

“So?”

“So then we can do the same, because He said, ‘Greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.’ ”

“Exactly.”

“Then why is Elizabeth still suffering? We have all prayed, and we’ve done the best we know to do, medically. She believes in healing, has helped so many, and yet here she is, so close to losing this baby and perhaps her own life.”

John Solberg leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “I wish I knew.”

“You have always said we must trust God, no matter what. My teachers at the school said the same thing, but trusting is hard when you watch people die in spite of all you’ve done and prayed for.”

“That it is. So then we must think on death. Is it really such a terrible thing if the person believes in Jesus Christ and is going home to that heavenly place Jesus promised He would have ready? You know the verse. ‘I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.’ ” He looked to Astrid. “I know that death is part of life, but Christ stands waiting to take us into His heavenly home and the Father’s arms.”

Astrid waited, hearing sounds of children talking through the closed door to the study, one laughing. Sounds of life on this earth. The life she fought so hard to keep for her patients. “Do we just give up?”

“No.” The word snapped through the silence. “There is a great divide between giving up and trusting God to do what is best. One is futility, and the other is faith.”

Astrid nodded. That part she did understand, at least as much as she was able. She knew that verse was good comfort for the dying, for those who were waiting on heaven, but at this point she still struggled with her case. “So God is asking me to trust Him?”

“He is asking all of us to trust Him.”

Astrid crossed to the window and stared out, seeing nothing. She sniffed back the tears that threatened again. They’d been lurking all day. “This is so hard.” Her cry broke the dam, and the tears poured forth.

Pastor Solberg came and stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, it is. You cry it out. You yell at God if you need to, and you wait for the peace to come, for it surely will. He said so. ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.’ ” He handed her his handkerchief. “He promises strength too for the journey and for comforting others. Your name, that baby’s name, Elizabeth’s name are all written on the palm of His hand.”

Another voice filled her mind.
And, lo, I am with you always, even
to the end of the world.
Astrid sniffed and blew her nose again. Trust. Not a big word but a life-changing idea.

21

W
hat happened at that farm was really none of his business. Joshua reminded himself of that as they set the drill into the ground at the location Mr. Calhoun told them to, ten feet from the hand-dug well that had been serving him for ten years.

“We will most likely go deeper to get you cleaner water,” Joshua reminded him. They’d discussed this the night before, but sometimes another mention was a good idea.

The man nodded. “So you said. That windmill will pay for itself before the summer is over. Have to find something else for our youngest son to do. It was his job to keep the stock tank full. But today I’ll set three of the boys digging the ditch to run water to the house.”

Joshua almost asked about school before he remembered it was Saturday. And school would be out for the summer fairly soon. Most likely the eldest was already helping out in the fields. “How many boys do you have?”

“Five. And three girls. Help for both the farm and the house.”

With the bit set, the horse was snapped into place and began his walk in a small circle, drilling the bit into the earth. While he’d been involved in that, Trygve and Gilbert had laid out the lumber to build the windmill.

Joshua couldn’t get the memory of the two bodies in the bed out of his mind. “What do you think will happen to the farm down the road?”

“Oh, someone will come along and buy it. I think when the little boy died, it took the life right out of them.” He half shrugged. “Babies die all the time. You just got to get used to it.” He studied on the drilling. “Shame you don’t have an engine to do that.”

“I know. We’re working on it. You don’t by any chance have a telephone, do you?” Joshua was still trying to decide whether or not to call Hjelmer. But then, Hjelmer had made him manager of the drill team, so maybe it was up to him to make the decisions.

“Clear out here?” Calhoun shook his head. “Cost too much.” He spit a gob of tobacco juice down beside his foot.

“Folks went together in Blessing. We put in our own exchange and strung our wires on posts we sunk in. Mighty handy instrument.”

“No fooling?”

“I heard other places have formed co-operatives too. You know if Mr. Rude owned his place free and clear? And how many acres he was farming?”

“Nope. The bank in Grafton carries the paper on it. You interested, you go on and talk to them. I think he had half a section.”

“What about the cattle?”
Do I want to know all this?
he wondered.

“Guess I’ll bring ’em on over here, make sure they get pasture and water. Most likely they’ll go with the place.”

Joshua oiled the gears that drove the bit into the ground and checked to make sure the drilling was continuing without mishap. He walked over to see how the construction on the windmill was going and dug his hammer out of the toolbox.

With the sun getting higher and hotter, he sent Gilbert over to pump them a bucket of water. After drinking, they soaked their bandannas and tied them around their necks again.

When the sun stood straight up, the missus rang a bell by the back door and hollered that when the men got in from the field, there was a bench by the house where they could wash up for dinner.

“Good thing,” Trygve muttered. “I was afraid we were gonna have to eat the leftovers from breakfast.”

“You don’t want fried rabbit for dinner?”

“I should run a line tonight too. Maybe they’d like some.”

“Surely their boys—” Joshua broke off his comment when the youngest boy, barefoot and one strap holding up his overalls, stopped a few feet from him. “How’s the ditch digging going?”

The boy glanced down at his feet. “Shoes hurt.”

“Barefoot is always best in the summer. But how can you dig without boots on?”

“Can’t. Pa said to ask if you need help.”

“Well, you can pick up the sawed-off bits of lumber and take ’em up to the house for your ma to burn in the kitchen stove. Makes good kindling.”

The boy nodded and ran off to the barn, returning with a gunnysack. He picked up the ends and bits, stopping once to pull a sliver from his foot.

Winter feet. Joshua remembered those days of tender feet after a winter of boots and knit wool socks. Hands were the same. Took time to rebuild the calluses and heal up the blisters. He saw the men come in with the two teams and nodded to Gilbert to unhitch their horse and take him over for a drink before turning him out in the pasture Mr. Calhoun had said they could use. They would put a different horse on for the afternoon shift.

“How many feet you gone down?” Calhoun asked after all the food had been passed.

“Twenty feet. We got water at ten but pushed on through. Like I said, you get cleaner water that way.” Joshua took a bite of his chicken and dumplings and nodded to Mrs. Calhoun. “Very good, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Beats our cooking,” said Trygve, “but that’s not much of a compliment.”

“You work for one of those Bjorklunds?” Mr. Calhoun asked.

“We do. Hjelmer Bjorklund started drilling wells last year, and we went into windmills too. Every farm and house needs a windmill. No need to waste all that time and effort when the wind can do it for you without you even being there.”

“And I will really have water to the house?” Mrs. Calhoun looked from her husband to Joshua.

“Soon as you have a hand pump in here to bring in the water.”

“Mercy, but that is something wonderful.”

One of the girls, with a shy smile, asked if the guests would like more chicken.

Trygve nodded and blessed her with a smile that made her cheeks flame pink.

“Thank you, Miss Calhoun.”

Joshua rolled his lips together to keep from laughing. Trygve could no more leave off the charm than he could go without food. “Can you tell me anything more about the Rude place?”

“Well, part of it is shore on the lake. He called it Rude Lake after his pa. That’s why those cows are still alive—they could drink out of the lake. The Rudes carried water from the lake to the house till a few years ago, when the neighbors got together to help him dig a well. He weren’t much for socializing. Fair worker, but it seemed if something were gonna go wrong, it would happen to him. All the rest of us around here help each other out, but . . .” Calhoun let his words trail off.

Mrs. Calhoun clucked like a mother hen. “Worked his wife to death is what he did.”

“Vinny.”

She sniffed at the reprimand and gave her husband a look that made Joshua smile inside.

“You know that all the neighbors helped dig that well because the women got together and insisted, hoping it would make life easier on the missus.”

Her comment reminded Joshua of the way the men of Blessing just showed up and helped him dig out the cellar for his house. They said that’s what neighbors did. Looks like they tried that here too. So how had Hjelmer sold Rude on the benefits of a deeper well and a windmill?

“Would you like apple or custard pie for dessert?” Mrs. Calhoun motioned for her girls to begin clearing the table.

“That’s a hard decision,” Joshua said with a smile.

“Good. You take a piece of each, then.” As she set about cutting and serving the pie, she nodded to Trygve and Gilbert. “You men the same?”

“You mind if I run some snares for rabbits tonight?” Trygve asked.

“You get rid of some of the rabbits around here, and I’ll be in your debt. Young Frank goes out shooting every once in a while. Nothing much better than a mess of fried rabbit.” She’d nodded at the youngest of the older three sons, none of whom had said a word after the introductions.

Thanking their hostess for the fine meal, the men returned to their jobs. Joshua hitched the next horse onto the drill arm and started him on around the well-trod circle. They had the stand for the windmill bolted together, ready to raise it in place when the drill hit water again. Over the winter they had worked out a new way to build the windmills, laying them out on the ground and then hoisting them into place with horse and manpower. They raised the windmill up by a pulley and bolted it onto the wooden platform. It cut off a day or more of the construction time.

Clean water came in as Calhoun and his boys were returning from the fields. Trygve capped the pipe, and after letting the horse out into the pasture, they all washed up for supper.

“You mean you got the water already?” Calhoun said, his eyes wide. “That’s all it took?”

“Yes, sir. The water tables are pretty high here in the Red River Valley. You want to help us raise the frame in the morning, we’ll have it done by nightfall.”

THE NEXT MORNING Trygve handed Mrs. Calhoun six gutted rabbits when they were called for breakfast. “I need to do this at home more too. Mor always said we could live off the land here and never go hungry. My younger brother, Samuel, never took much to snaring rabbits. He’d rather go fishing.”

“You folks live near the Red, then?”

“Yes, sir. Our land borders it.” He turned to Mrs. Calhoun. “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d take a couple pieces of that rabbit for the dog from the Rude farm. He followed us here. Poor thing’s starving to death.”