A Land to Call Home (44 page)

Quiet fell when they shut the door to the titles office.

“How may I help you?” asked a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and gaiters on his sleeves from behind a high counter.

“We have come to prove up our homestead claims,” Ingeborg stated. “I am Ingeborg Bjorklund and this is my sister-in-law, Kaaren Bjorklund Knutson. Our husbands were Roald and Carl.”

“And what year did you file the claims?”

“1880. Five years ago yesterday.” She withdrew the papers from her reticule and laid them on the counter.

The man looked over his glasses. “I take it you two gentlemen are not Roald and Carl.”

Haakan shook his head. “They died.”

“Do you have marriage certificates?”

“Ja, but what difference does that make? The land is in my name and in Kaaren’s name.” Ingeborg fingered the papers in front of her. She’d had the names on the papers changed deliberately after Roald’s and Carl’s deaths so that there would be no problem.

“Ah.” He held up the papers so he could see better. “And you have met all the requirements?”

She pointed to the second page. “There is the list of acres now broken and seeded, the buildings we have put up, and an inventory of our livestock and machinery.”

“I see.” He read, nodding as he turned to the next page. “It looks as though all is in order. Do you have any liens against the land over at the bank?”

“Not any longer.” She extracted the bank papers next and laid them on the counter. “What loans we have now are against the machinery itself, but they are nearly paid also.”

“You have done well in five years.” He smiled over the edge of the forms.

“Ja, God has been good.”

With swift movements, he stamped each page with a round seal, signed on one line for each deed, and pointed to where they were to put their signatures.

Ingeborg could hardly hold the pen, and Kaaren not much better. But their signatures were legible, and the man dusted sand over the ink to dry it more quickly. Then opening a leather-bound book, he located the original entries and wrote in the new information. He handed the papers back to Ingeborg.

“It’s all yours now.”

Ingeborg could feel her knees turning to mush. She gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and picked up the papers with the other, all the while maintaining a smile and continuing to breathe, but with difficulty. The land was hers. And Kaaren’s. She had won.
They had won
.

“Thank you very much.”

The men shook hands. Kaaren and Ingeborg gripped each other’s free hand with a strength born of the sorrows they’d endured together.

“It is ours.” Ingeborg could hear the awe in her own voice and see it on Kaaren’s face. As the strength returned to her knees, she felt like dancing and leaping, whirling around the wooden floor until she fell down in a heap. The land, the precious land, was hers.
Now, for certain, she could call it home.

“There is just one more thing.” She looked at Haakan to catch his nod.

“We will wait outside for you,” he whispered, snatching up Andrew, who was about to put a cigar butt in his mouth. “Ishda,” he muttered and glared at Thorliff, who hung his head.

Thorliff picked up the butt and dropped it in the can by the door provided for such things as that. The grimace on his face brought a smile to Ingeborg’s. Her son was realizing how different life was in the city from that on their farm.

She turned back to the man behind the counter. “Now, here is what I would like you to do.” The bell above the door tinkled as the others made their way outside.

The next Sunday after church, the congregation buzzed about the new men in the territory, men surveying for the much anticipated railroad spur between Grafton and Drayton. All they would say was that soon the men buying the rights for the railroad would be coming through. They would not comment on the price being offered, but when one man said he wasn’t selling any of his hard-earned land to no railroad, they just shrugged.

Stories of the railroad forcing some to sell ran rife with the high prices the railroad was paying for the right-of-way. It was said they puchased whole sections, and others bought only a couple hundred feet on either side of the right-of-way. Some said they condemned the land and took it by force if necessary. Other stories said some land had already been bought up and the new owners were holding out for higher prices. Rumors abounded, one contradicting another.

The last rumor teased Ingeborg into remembering and pondering on Hjelmer’s visit in the winter. Why had he been back in the Red River Valley without coming home to stay? Had it been a sneak visit to find out about Mary Ruth? No, that didn’t fit. He hadn’t seemed at all concerned about that hussy and her manipulating ways, nor even overly wondering about Penny. When she’d told him to talk with Agnes, he hadn’t even gone to the Baards.

One morning when Olaf and the boys had left for school, she brought the matter up to Haakan.

“I been wondering much the same thing,” he replied with a nod to the outside, where Goodie Peterson had started the wash. “She
ever said anything about Hjelmer offering to buy her land?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “Where would he get that kind of money, anyway?”

When he just looked at her, she turned her head, glancing at him from the side of her eye.

“He wouldn’t.” She shook her head slowly. “Haakan, you know he said he would never gamble again.”

He sighed. “I hope not, but I can’t get the thought out of my mind that something isn’t right here.”

“Me too.”

“Mor!” Andrew catapulted into the kitchen, Ellie right on his heels. “Sheeps out.”

“Andrew Bjorklund, did you open the gate?”

At his shamefaced look, she shook her head. “You know I told you not to open the gate.”

“Wanted to show Ellie the lambs, my lamb.” He raised a dirty face to her. “Sheep ran over me.”

Haakan was already out the door calling Paws as he went. With the help of the dog, they rounded up the spring-mad ewes and put them back in the corral. Tossing more hay in from the small pile remaining, Haakan took Andrew by the arm. “I think it is time for a session out by the woodpile, young man. You were told not to open the gate.”

Andrew sent his mother a pleading look, but she only shook her head. “You knew better.”

Even when the boy’s lower lip began to quiver, she steeled herself. The Bible said, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” and while she hated to see him spanked, Ingeborg knew Haakan was right. Andrew had to learn his lesson, as if being trampled over by escaping sheep wasn’t enough.

When she thought of it, she shuddered. He could have been cut by their sharp hooves, and though he was big for his age, the sheep were much heavier. She turned to see Ellie’s eyes fill.

“Please, I wanted to see the sheep. Don’t spank Andrew. I done it.”

Goodie turned from pouring water into the big tub that sat over a hot fire. “Then you should get the spanking too.” She took the girl’s still thin arm and followed Haakan and Andrew to the woodpile.

Ingeborg began sorting the clothes into white and dark piles. Even bending over the tub caused her back to ache. Sometimes she wondered if like Kaaren she would have twins, she was already so
large. Less than a month to go. She looked off to the riverbank.
I sure hope Metiz gets home in time to midwife
. Memories of another baby never allowed to breathe the clear valley air assailed her. “Please, Metiz, come home soon.”

T
hey won’t be buying any of your land but will take some off the piece I bought from Polinski,” Haakan announced after talking with the land buyers. “They’re taking ten acres from the Baards, and they said that right near the schoolhouse will be a good spot for a watering station. They set them up every twenty miles or so.”

“So, we will have a town around the schoolhouse after all.” Ingeborg closed her eyes and let the motion of the rocker soothe her. The last few days had been rife with speculation as neighbors visited back and forth, impatient to know the exact route of the railroad spur and anxious for the land to thaw enough to get the spring work started. The Bjorklunds still hadn’t sheared the sheep, a task that always seemed to end up at the bottom of the list of things to be done. Thorliff, Baptiste, and Hans were figuring to start on that soon as they got home from school.

She rubbed her mound of baby, especially on the one side where it liked to drum its feet, or was it elbows? Whichever, this baby sure was an active one. Agnes said it was certain to be a boy, busy as it was, but deep in her heart Ingeborg longed for a girl.

“Are you all right?” Haakan’s tone spoke of love and concern.

“Ja, I am fine, this is normal for the last month or so.”

“We’re going to have a burying tomorrow after the service. With the pastor here from St. Andrew, they all think it a good time.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and stood looking out the window.

“I imagine digging the holes was hard yet.”

“Ja, but keeping the bodies was harder.”

Ingeborg nodded and relaxed for a few moments in the quiet. Goodie had gone to help Kaaren and Solveig begin the spring-cleaning
since they were already finished in this soddy. Ingeborg wanted it done early just in case. She never finished the
just in case
, but they all knew babies sometimes came early. Andrew and Ellie were both sound asleep after playing so hard they nearly collapsed into their dinner plates.

She glanced over at the bed. Andrew’s cheeks had already lost their winter pallor, and the April sun had started on his hair, streaking the gold to near white. He seemed to be growing up right before her eyes. She rubbed her belly again. She sent a few thank-yous heavenward for the health of all, for the man at the window, for the coming of spring.

At church in the morning, everyone wore their most somber garments. Reverend Amundson from St. Andrew devoted his sermon to God’s promises of life after death, reminding them that Jesus and loved ones waited for those who died and welcomed them to the kingdom. Ingeborg let her mind drift.
Had Roald found their baby that died? Did Carl and the two girls watch over the family below? Surely the mansions in heaven had more rooms than a soddy
. She smiled at that thought and swayed the tiniest bit to keep Andrew sleeping before he slipped off her somewhat limited lap.

After the benediction, everyone followed the pastor outside and over to the graveyard where the caskets rested beside the previously dug holes. The wooden boxes ranged from infant size, where Agnes and her family stood, to man length for Elmer Peterson. Haakan had gone down to the farm to bring Mr. Peterson back for the burying.

Mr. Booth stood a bit apart. For him there was no casket and no hallowed ground in which to set it. They’d never found any part of his wife’s clothing or anything.

Ingeborg knew how he felt since she’d experienced the same. They all figured the scavengers of the prairie had done their job, as God ordained them to.

One by one the boxes were lowered into the earth. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the words were repeated for each body. The prayers rose as incense on the spring breeze that rifled the clothing of the worshipers, then dried the tears and sniffles of those left behind. Kaaren began singing the final hymn, her voice rising sweet as the meadowlark’s trill while the others joined in. “Blest be the tie that binds, our hearts in Christian love. . . .” The Norwegian words rolled across the prairie, as if a benediction of their own on the burgeoning land.

Mr. Booth came to each of them before they left for home. “I just
wanted to say good-bye and God bless,” he said as he shook hands.

“You are leaving then?” Haakan asked.

“Ja. Without my Auduna I just can’t care about the land like I did ’afore. When Hjelmer offered me such a good price for it, I didn’t feel like turning him down. With the cash I can buy something somewhere else or homestead again in the Pacific Northwest. There’s land there.”

Haakan and Ingeborg shared a private glance. So that was what Hjelmer had been up to.

Two other men pushed forward. “You sold your land to Hjelmer Bjorklund? Why didn’t you say something? I’d of bought it.” The belligerent tone made Ingeborg step back.