A Land to Call Home (2 page)

“Uff da. Talk about women worrying. Don’t forget to ask Kaaren and Ingeborg—”

“I know. Come for quilting. Those horses will be peaceful companions after all these instructions.” He grinned at her, tipped his hat, and left.

Agnes joined Penny in the yard and watched her husband drive off. They could hear his whistle floating back over the jingle of the harnesses. The rooster crowed in the barn and a cow bellered. “Well, we better get to the chores,” Agnes said. “Those animals all want feeding. I’ll set the bread to rising while you milk the cows.” They turned toward their respective duties, and the never ending daily work began.

Joseph returned after dusk had darkened to night. The dog barking at the jingling of harness heard long before human ears announced
his return to the family. The boys burst out the door and ran up the dusty road to the east, shouting, “Far, far, glad you are home!”

Penny wanted to do the same. Two years earlier she would have, but now she kept reminding herself to practice being a woman beyond girlish ways. But the run up the road beckoned her. When she heard Joseph whoa the horses, she strolled out the door, her casual actions belying her tripping heart. Surely there would be a letter today.

“Sorry,” Joseph said after handing a letter to Agnes. “That’s all there was.”

Penny blinked hard and waited for him to hand her something to carry. Why, oh why, hadn’t she heard from Hjelmer? She thought of the letter she’d written that afternoon, planning to add more as the week progressed just like she usually did. As far as she knew, she’d never broken a promise—but she was surely tempted now. Tempted to throw the letter in the fire and forget all about that young, lazy, lying—handsome, laughing, loving Norwegian. She thumped the sack of flour down on the table. Prayer didn’t seem to be helping, and her aunt Agnes assured her that swearing wouldn’t either. But banging pans did.

“Mercy, child, whatever is going on?” Agnes laid a brown wrapped package on the shelf along the wall. One look at Penny’s face and she nodded. “I understand. Sometimes churning butter is good for moments like these, or kneading bread. One time I cleaned all the manure out of two stalls in the barn, first time after the winter pileup. Stalls looked good and I felt better.”

“It’s not fair!” A smaller pot slammed into a larger. “I could . . . I could tear all those blond curls off his head.”

Agnes nodded, turning so Penny couldn’t see her smile. Ah, the trials of young love. She didn’t wish to ever go back to that time of life. Joseph, while not perfect, was a good God-fearing man who did his best for his family. One couldn’t ask for much more. Praise be to God.

“Kaaren and Ingeborg said they’d be glad to come. They said perhaps the next time they would invite several others, like you did before. “Joseph handed Penny a tablet of paper. “Thought you might like this.”

Penny tried to blink the tears away, but one out-raced her effort and trickled down her cheek. “Thank you, Onkel Joseph. You are so good to me.”

Joseph cleared his throat and nodded. “You are welcome, child. Little enough for all you do around here.” He dug a sack out of his coat pocket. “Brought one of these for everybody. Thought maybe we all needed some sweetening up.”

“Candy!” Anji grabbed the sack and started handing the redand-white sticks around.

When everyone stuck theirs in their mouths, Agnes said with a chuckle, “All we need is a tree to make it look like Christmas.”

“And thnow.” Anji was having trouble with her s’s, especially since she’d lost her left front tooth.

“That’ll be here soon enough. We’ll butcher on Monday if the temperature drops. Not normal to have such a warm fall.” Joseph yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Time for bed, everybody. We put in a long day.”

On Saturday the quilters arrived before nine, with Thorliff and Baptiste leaping out of the wagon as soon as they saw Knute and Swen Baard. Eight-year-old Thorliff’s porkpie hat hit the ground about the same time as his feet. He picked up the faded flat hat and clapped it back on his head with both hands, covering straight hair more white than gold from the bleaching of the long summer sun.

“You two behave yourselves now,” Ingeborg Bjorklund called to the backs of four boys racing out of ear range as fast as possible.

“We will.” She heard the faint answer. What she could hear well was three-year-old Andrew’s wail from the back of the wagon.

“Go with Tor! Me go, Mor.”

She turned in time to catch his skirts as he started to climb out of the wagon and onto the slowly turning wheel. “No, Andrew, sit down.”

“There’s no stopping him.” Kaaren Knutson, Ingeborg’s sister-in-law, turned in spite of her bulging stomach and snagged a flailing arm. “Come on, Andrew, come to Tante Kaaren.”

“No-o-o!” His cry echoed across the flat-as-a-stove-top Red River Valley. High overhead in the bright blue sky, a prairie hawk screeched.

“Look, Andrew, a big bird.” Grunting, Ingeborg lifted him to the seat beside her and tilted his chin up to see the hawk soaring on the rising air currents.

When the child followed the pointing of her finger, a smile instantly dried his tears. “Big bird.”

“That’s a hawk.” Ingeborg kept him in the circle of her arm, knowing well he could still make a flying leap for the ground. Andrew was nothing if not brave. Keeping up to Thorliff made him try many things that should have been beyond his abilities, like sliding off the haystack and riding the mule. One day she had found him playing under the bellies of the harnessed horses. Thank God, Bob and Bell seemed to understand he was a young’un and watched out for him too.

“Hawk,” he answered, laying his arm across his mother’s shoulders. He turned to face her, a grin appling his cheeks. “Big bird.” When she smiled back and tickled his tummy, he chortled with the most infectious laugh in all of Dakota Territory.

“Those boys are so brown, the only way to tell Baptiste apart is his dark hair.” Kaaren shifted on the high wagon seat they had padded for her with a quilt. Although her baby wasn’t due for another two months, she looked ready to deliver any minute. “Uff da,” she murmured, using both hands to move her abdomen into a more comfortable position. Pointing to her ponderous belly, Kaaren asked, “Are you thinking this is twins as much as I am?”

“There were twins in the Bjorklund family. Bridget told me so a long time ago. She warned me in case it happened.”

“I know. Carl always thought having twins would be a wonderful gift from God.” A cloud flitted across her eyes at the memory of her first husband, who had died of flu one winter. She sighed. “Lars says two for one ain’t a bad return.”

“Ja, but he don’t have to nurse and diaper them. Diapers for one baby is hard enough, especially in the winter. I remember taking them off the line frozen stiff and finishing the drying over the stove in the soddy.”

“Not so long ago either. I’ve been hemming flannel and knitting soakers, but if I have twins, I won’t have enough.” They stopped the horses at the hitching post in front of the barn.

“You wait and I’ll help you down.” Ingeborg wrapped the reins around the brake handle and climbed over the side, using the spokes of the front wheel as a middle step. She lifted Andrew down and hung on to his hand to walk around the wagon. “Just you be patient, son. You cannot go after Thorliff. Remember, Gus is in the house waiting to play with you.” She reached up to give Kaaren a hand.

“I’m going to have to sit back in the wagon bed from now on.
This climbing up and down from the seat is getting to be too much.” Kaaren gripped the wagon seat while she felt for the spoke with one foot. Ingeborg placed the searching foot on a spoke and reached to give leverage for Kaaren to sit against if she felt weak. Once they both had their feet on the ground, Kaaren shook her head. “Two more months. How will I ever manage?”

“Like women everywhere. One step at a time.” Ingeborg slipped the bridles from the horses and tied the ropes from the hitching post to their halters. “Those boys better come back and take care of the horses or they’ll get whatfor from both me and Agnes.”

They retrieved their quilting baskets from the rear of the wagon and walked toward the soddy that lay dozing in the sun. The air wore the crisp dress of Autumn, with the sun valiantly trying to warm it. After a frost that blackened the gardens, Indian summer settled in for an extended visit.

“My land, I never even heard you drive up.” Agnes bustled to the door at their knock. “Come in. Come in.” She ushered them in, then stepped outside. “Knute, Swen, you two come take care of the horses now!” Her holler could be heard in the next township. “Boys!” She shook her head when she came back in the soddy. “How they can get that far away so fast is beyond me.” She shook her head again when Kaaren removed her shawl. “Merciful God, please don’t let her have that baby right here today.” She clasped her hands against her bosom. “Are you sure you figured right?”

Kaaren nodded. “Lars thinks maybe I should go down to Grand Forks to the doctor there, but other than needing a wheelbarrow in front of me, I’m fine. He said we should take bets on whether there’s one or two in here.” She patted the huge bulge as she spoke. “If it’s two, we’ll need the money.” With a sigh she sank into the rocker. “Maybe what I should do is put my rocker in the back of the wagon for traveling.”

Ingeborg and Agnes exchanged looks. “What a wonderful idea. Why didn’t we think of that earlier?” Ingeborg gave Andrew, who had buried himself in her skirt, a gentle push. “You and Gus go play now. See the blocks?”

“I fixed them up a pen in the back of the house with hog wire from the edge of the lean-to to the back of the soddy. That way they can dig in the dirt and not head out across the prairie.” Agnes went to the door. “Penny!” She turned back to her guests. “She can leave off with the churning and help Anji get these little ones settled. We
got something to discuss before she comes in to help with the quilting.”

Penny wiped a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand as she came through the door. She greeted the two women, took the hands of the little ones, and led them out the back door.

“Now, quick.” Agnes seated herself in the chair she pulled away from the table, making a triangle of the two rockers and the chair. She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I thought maybe we could make the next quilt for Penny and Hjelmer.”

“She’s heard from him then?” Ingeborg asked.

Agnes shook her head. “No, only that one letter, and it is worrying her some awful. That scalawag. When I catch up with him, he’s going to wish he’d been faithful about putting pen to paper. I keep telling myself it’s only two months since he’s been gone, but I got a bad feeling about this.”

“We haven’t heard either, and I’m sure he hasn’t written home. His mother asked about him in her last letter.”

“Be that as it may, and knowing how long it takes us to get something finished, I’d like to start a wedding ring pattern for them. Every bride needs that quilt on her wedding bed, and maybe the stitching of the quilt will bring Hjelmer home sooner.”

“Fine with me. I just thought maybe we could quick piece up another baby quilt, just in case.” Ingeborg nodded toward Kaaren. “We could work on that today while Penny is helping us. I’ll ask around at Sunday meeting tomorrow and find out who else wants to join us.”

“Good.” Agnes nodded. “We could do the baby a nine patch or a four square and plain.” She rose to go to her trunk under the window. “I have some scraps in here. We could do a crazy quilt.”

Penny came in just as her aunt knelt in front of the chest. “Here, let me do that. You know Onkel Joseph said to—”

“Don’t care what he said. A woman’s got to get in her trunk now and again, and you can see I’m not climbing on anything.” She tempered her words at her niece with a gentle smile. “You go ahead and pour us all a cup of coffee.”

Penny started to say something, thought the better of it, and flashing a grin that asked “what to do with her?” went to the calico-skirted cupboard for cups.

Before long the women were taking turns cutting pieces, laying the squares out in a pleasing color pattern, and stitching them together.
Their conversation flashed as fast as their needles. The fragrance of beans baking with salt pork and molasses, the laughter of the children outside, and the comfort of one another’s company made the morning fly by. As soon as they’d served all the men and children, they ate quickly and returned to their stitching. Penny washed up the two small children, tucked them into bed for a nap, and returned to the job at hand.

“I have some of the head and leg wool from the spring shearing carded for quilt batting,” Ingeborg said, smoothing her latest square out on her knees. “There now. Don’t that look nice?” They all admired their handiwork and kept on stitching. “Don’t seem like we should wait a month to tie this. Might be needed before then.”

“Inge!” Kaaren shifted in her chair, grateful for the footstool Penny had placed beneath her swollen feet. Sitting for more than a few minutes in one position was becoming increasingly difficult. “Uff da.”

“What is it?” Ingeborg leaned forward, as if ready to leap out of her seat.