The Reaper's Song (21 page)

When the time came to shift positions, Ingeborg took one of the chairs at the quilting frame, sitting between Hildegunn Valders and the silent Sarah.

“So what have you heard from Mr. Gould?” Hildegunn stopped stitching to ask.

“Nothing yet. I just mailed the letter to him and Mr. Brockhurst in Grand Forks last week.” She turned to the rest of the group. “I wrote to get information on how to start our own bank here in Blessing.”

At their murmurs, Ingeborg just smiled. More and more she was convinced that a bank was just what they needed. Now to learn how to set one up.

“Why can’t Grace hear?”

Ingeborg turned from her concentration on the trotting team to look over her shoulder in shock. Ilse stood right behind her shoulder. These were the first words she’d heard out of the child’s mouth.

“We don’t know. She was born deaf.”

Ilse clutched the back of the bench seat when the turning wagon wheel dropped in a rut. The jingle of the harness and the clumping of horses’ feet that spurted miniature clouds of dust sounded loud in the late afternoon stillness. While some of the families remained to put the finishing touches on the new house, Ingeborg had taken her wagon and headed home. The big boys had run on ahead of them, leaving Andrew and Ellie dozing in the wagon bed.

“Will she ever hear?”

“We don’t know. That’s up to God.”

The girl snorted. “God don’t listen too good.”

Ingeborg wished she could wrap her arms around the child and hold her close, but one glance at the stiff shoulders, and she knew that even if she clamped the reins between her knees to free her hands, Ilse wouldn’t allow the touch.

Instead she nodded. “Ja, I thought that way too at one time.”

“I hate God.”

“I did too.”

“He made Far and Mor die.”

“Seems that way.”
Oh, child, He loves you so. Father, please give me the right words, the wisdom to help Ilse
. But no words came, so she remained silent.

“He did too.”

Ingeborg turned enough so she could see the young girl. Teeth clenched, fists tight at her side, tears frozen behind eyelids that ached from fighting the onslaught, this one was already learning how to be tough so as not to shatter under the sorrow.

“Your far and mor are in heaven and watching out for you, even though they couldn’t stay here.”

Braids slapped her cheeks at the violence of her headshake. “They put them in the ocean.”

“Where we are buried doesn’t matter. Our heavenly Father catches us up to himself in heaven.”

“I hate God.”

“Ja, but He loves you anyway. Here. You want to drive the horses?” She lifted the reins just in time to keep Ilse from climbing over the wagon side.

“Really?”

“Why sure. You climb up here with me, and we’ll hold the reins together until you get used to the feel. You ever driven a team before?”

When Ilse settled herself on the seat, Ingeborg wrapped one arm
around her and, while hugging the board-stiff body to her side, handed the reins over to the small hands and then cupped her own over them. While her heart beseeched the Father for help, her hands and arms melted the ice within until the girl leaned against her side.

“This is nice.” Ilse looked up and a ghost of a smile touched her dark blue eyes.

“Ja, driving horses always makes me feel better too. You were good with Sophie at the church.”

“Mange takk.”

Paws ran out to greet them, pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He yipped and danced beside the wheels, first on one side, then the other.

“I had a dog at home.” Ilse handed the reins back, stiffening up again at the same time. “I want to go back to Nordland. Bestemor and Bestefar must miss me. They don’t know about . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

A glance to the side showed Ingeborg that the child was fighting with all she had to keep the tears inside.

“Mrs. Bjorklund wrote to them, and the steamship company would have notified them too.”

“Oh.”

Ingeborg tightened the reins so the horses stopped by the back stoop. “Do you know how to milk a cow?”

The look she got in return said plenty. As if any ten-year-old girl didn’t know how to milk cows, and what a stupid question to ask.

“Good, then you can help Thorliff and Baptiste with the milking. The pails are in the springhouse right over there. I see they already have the cows all in the barn.”

“Mor, we’re hungry.”

“Yes, Andrew, I’m sure you are, but we have chores to do first.”

Ingeborg swung over the wheel and to the ground. “You and Ellie can feed the chickens while the rest of us milk. I’m going to check on your pa first.” She scooped the sleeping Astrid up in her arms and mounted the steps. “You show Ilse where things are. Have her start with Bess.” She named the gentlest cow in the herd.

A stew bubbled on the back of the stove, greeting them with the rich fragrance. Metiz came out of the sickroom.

“Him sleeping.”

Metiz carried a half-finished basket on her arm, this one a different shape, so Ingeborg knew the other one was finished.

“Rain tonight.”

“Then it is a good thing the men stayed to nail down the roof. That house went up so fast, Metiz, you would be amazed.”

“Tepee faster.” Metiz’ black eyes sparkled.

“Ja, tepees go up faster, come down faster, and let you freeze in the winter faster.” Ingeborg knew her friend was teasing. More than once, Metiz had commented on Ingeborg’s “fine” house. She loved the light coming in the windows about as much as Ingeborg did.

Later that night when all the others were tucked in bed, Ingeborg sat beside Haakan and, while changing the cloths again, told him about the talk with Ilse on the way home.

“I’m surprised she talked with you at all. Bridget said she hadn’t heard a word from the child since the ship’s men restrained her.”

“I know. I was so shocked I about dropped the reins.” She partially wrung out a cloth of cool water and laid it across his belly. He flinched but smiled up at her.

“I think you like making me flinch like that.”

“No, but if you can smile at me, you must be feeling better.”

“I think so. As long as I don’t move my legs or anything.” He laid his head first one side, then the other. “See, at least this end of me works.”

“Good. Reverend Solberg asked if he could come see you tomorrow after church.”

“And you said. . . ?”

She looked at him, astonishment widening her eyes. “I said of course. He’s coming for dinner.” She leaned closer. “I have a feeling he isn’t coming just to see you, though, or he would have been over here before.”

Haakan quirked an eyebrow.

“Katy.”

“Ah. Then he probably won’t mind that I can’t get up and greet him.”

“Most likely not. Although he did say that anything that could fell Haakan Bjorklund had to be pretty bad.”

“I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” He groaned when he tried to roll over. “Never thought I’d be hankering to walk to the outhouse.”

She handed him the thunder mug. “The things we take for granted when we are well.”

What other things had she been taking for granted? Ingeborg pondered that as she nursed Astrid for the last time that night. God forbid anything else bad would happen.

The sound of the rain tapping on the windows reminded her that no one would skip church tomorrow to harvest. The grain would have to dry again before it could be cut.
Please, God, protect the wheat
. A hailstorm now would be the end of harvest for sure.

They were discussing the rainstorm both before and after church the next morning.

“Flattened fields south and west of here,” one man said.

“Thanks be to God He spared the fields around here,” someone else added.

Ingeborg couldn’t help but silently add “for now.” Nothing was certain until the grain was bagged and shipped, and the uncertainty of falling wheat prices kept the farmers on the edge of worry.

H
aakan Howard Bjorklund, you just get right back in that bed!”

The thud when his body hit the floor brought all of them running. The women piled through the doorway with Ingeborg in the lead. Her heart started beating again when she recognized the stubborn-mule look on her husband’s face.

“I . . . have . . . to . . . run . . . the . . . steam . . . engine.” He spoke from between teeth clamped so hard together his jaw glistened white. Sweat ran in rivulets from the effort he’d made.

“You think you didn’t give Lars good training? He’s run the steam engine before, and he will do so again.” Ingeborg signaled to Goodie, who took Haakan’s other arm. “On three now. One, two, three.” With them hoisting, he straightened his legs enough to lift him back to the edge of the bed. Even the effort of sitting up kept the sweat pouring down his face and chest.

“Ingeborg, I have been sick for over a week. The fields are cut and shocked. We need to get the separator going.”

“Ja, that is true, but the we will not include you yet.” She stood in front of him, arms akimbo and a jaw nearly as tight as his. “If you conk yourself on the head, you’ll be laid up that much longer. Besides, you need all your strength for getting better, not for getting out of bed. If you want to sit in that chair while Goodie and I change your bed, that’ll be a help.”

Bridget appeared in the doorway. “Can I do anything?”

“You can try to talk some sense into this man here.”

Bridget shook her head. “Not a Bjorklund man when he has his mind made up. Like a bear trap, they are.” She turned and said over her shoulder, “I’ll go kill chickens for dinner. That’s much easier.”

“Spoken like a truly wise woman.” Goodie helped settle Haakan
in the chair and handed him a damp towel to wipe his face. “You just behave yourself, Haakan Bjorklund. You know you are supposed to stand up with Olaf at our wedding this Sunday. Asking for help would go a long way to getting your strength back sooner.”

Haakan wiped his face and neck. “At least I can feel the bone and muscle in my neck again. That’s something to be thankful for.”

“You have plenty to be thankful for.” Goodie stopped stuffing the goose-down pillow into the pillowcase. “Two sons, a daughter, another baby on the way, a wife who stands by you, and a farm the riches of which I bet you never dreamed.”

“You’re right, Goodie. It’s just hard to remember those things when I’m supposed to be out in the fields providing for all that I have.” Haakan leaned against the back of the chair, a white line around his mouth, evidence of the strain the effort cost.

“Perhaps the good Lord gave you this time of quiet to help you remember.”

Between the two of them, the women turned the mattress, fluffing the sweet hay stuffing at the same time. With dry sheets spread and tucked in, they helped Haakan back to bed again.

“Now you rest, and in a while we’ll come back and help you walk, if you can stand the pain. Perhaps moving about more will ease the swelling some.”

Haakan gave Ingeborg a look that said what he thought about Goodie’s bossing him about like he was still in short pants. Ingeborg quirked the side of her mouth in what passed for a smile that Goodie wouldn’t see but let Haakan know she understood his frustrations.

“Perhaps we can tighten the truss somehow to give you more support. It’s worth a try.” She whispered the words as she held a cup of cool water for him to drink. “You’ve lost so much weight. . . .” She just shook her head and didn’t bother to finish the sentence.

That night Lars, Joseph, Petar, and the boys all crowded into the sickroom.

“We got to start.” Joseph Baard took the floor. “And you know it, well as we do, that if we wait any longer, someone’s liable to lose their crop to a hailstorm or some such.” He scratched his scraggly beard. “Now, near as I see it, we haul the steam engine and separator to that same spot we did last year when we hired that outside crew. Four to five families can bring their wheat shocks there. They can pick up their straw later.”

Haakan nodded. “I know. I been thinking the same thing. You going to haul wood to burn for the engine or use straw?”

“What do you think?”

“Pa says wood don’t burn too fast, makes the heat more even.” Thorliff spoke up as if he was one of the men.