A Land to Call Home (7 page)

“Sure be that he cannot tell a lie.” Haakan dropped a kiss on Ingeborg’s cheek, then turned her face for another. “Let’s forget about the dog and the barn and everything for a while, what do you think?”

Ingeborg felt the quickening of her heart. She knew what he meant, for she’d thought much the same herself. She wrapped
both arms around his neck. “Would you rather have a cup of coffee first?”

“No, thank you.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Think I’ll just blow out the lamp.”

When Ingeborg woke in the morning, she felt a sense of peace. Peace that flooded her whole being, making her want to laugh and shout.
God is so good. How can I ever thank and praise Him enough?
She turned her head to see Haakan blowing on the banked coals so they would nibble at the kindling he’d shaved into the firebox and flare into heat that would warm both the house and their meals for the day. She should be doing that, but lying in bed and watching her husband work gave her a special thrill and deepened the immense feeling of being loved and cherished. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep it all inside so she wouldn’t lose the precious moment.

“I’ll bet we have thundershowers before the day is over.” Haakan’s soft voice let her know that he knew she was awake. He came over and sat down on the pole side of the bed. “I’ll do the milking this morning and check the smokehouse on my way out. You lie there for a while longer.” He ran his fingers through her long hair, which for a change was not confined in braids. “Feels alive, like you, silky and soft.”

Ingeborg smiled up at him. She touched the cleft in his chin with one finger. “Mor said this was caused by the kiss of an angel.”

“Ja, well, my far got kissed, too, then, and his far before him.” He nibbled the end of her finger. “Mange takk, Mrs. Bjorklund.”

“Velbekomme, Mr. Bjorklund.”

He closed the door without a squeak that might wake the boys.

Ingeborg hummed as she went about preparations for breakfast. She took the potato water she’d set on the warming shelf of the stove a couple of days earlier and inhaled the yeasty smell. Saving part of it to set again, she stirred in an egg, buttermilk, molasses, a scoop of butter, salt, and flour. With the wooden bowl nestled in her arms, she beat the mixture to work in as many air bubbles as she could. When it got too thick to beat, she flopped it out on a towel on the table and began kneading in the remainder of the flour needed. Now they’d have fresh bread for the barn raising on the morrow. She set dried beans to soaking, too, and once
she had finished kneading the bread and set it to rise again on the warming shelf, she went about cutting up salt pork to add to the beans.

When the boys awoke, she sent Thorliff out to help Haakan. After dressing Andrew, who now thought he should do everything himself, making the process twice as long as usual, she tied a dish towel around his neck and set him on his box with some dried June-berries for a treat.

By the time Haakan brought in fresh milk for breakfast, she had the oven full of baking beans and a smoked venison haunch.

“Smells wonderful in here.” He set the strainer over the milk can and slowly poured the warm liquid through the cloth. “You set much to cheese lately?”

“Ja, as much as I have room for. We should use those sod bricks to enlarge the well house. If I had more shelves, I could cure more cheeses at the same time.” She pointed to the washbasin for Thorliff to wash his hands. “Think I’ll smoke some of those cheeses that are nearly ripe. It’ll give them a different flavor.”

“Ja, it will. We need to make a run to the Bonanza farm soon. Snow could come anytime now.” He finished his task and joined the boys at the table. After saying grace they fell to, the stack of pancakes disappearing as quickly as Ingeborg brought them to the table from the stove.

“Don’t take the sheep too far today,” Haakan said.

Thorliff nodded. “Grass is growing everywhere again after that last rain we had.”

Ingeborg watched her son trying to act like the man he was becoming.

“And remember, if you see lightning on the horizon, you make a beeline for home.”

Thorliff nodded.

Ingeborg watched them walk out to the barn, Haakan matching his steps to those of his son. Maybe for his birthday the end of October, they could buy Thorliff a wide-brimmed hat like Haakan wore. That would please him no end. She smiled at the thought of the joy on Thorliff’s face when he would open the box. Ja, that would be just the thing. She shook her head at the thought that her eldest would soon be nine years old. “Uff da, where has the time gone?”

The storm held off until after dinner. Haakan hurried back out to the field to take advantage of every moment to break new sod.
He had yet to find time to break any on his own piece. It had taken all summer to repair the mess Polinski had left behind. He’d almost left his family behind, too, but something finally made him come back for them. Haakan had had to tear down the roof of the soddy and start with new rafters because the lazy man had burned some of them during the last winter.

“Uff da.” Ingeborg drove away the thoughts of Polinski and turned to kneading her bread again.

Thunder rolled in the distance. She finished forming the loaves and set them to rise for the last time. Honey on bread still warm from the oven would give the boys an afternoon treat when they brought the sheep in.

Thunder rumbled closer, but still no rain fell. Perhaps the storm would blow over them.

She lighted the lamp and sat down with her Bible to read for a few stolen moments before Andrew woke up. Turning to the Psalms, she read aloud to better appreciate the music that came with the words.

A sharp crack brought her out of her chair, the thunder crashing before she could get to the door. Andrew let out a wail, his face screwed up in terror.

“Oh, son, easy now. It’s just thunder and lightning. Sounded right over our head. Let’s go look for Thorliff and Far. They should be coming in.” Carrying him on her hip, she stepped outside. The smell of cordite caught her by surprise. The lightning had struck somewhere, but a walk out by the barn revealed nothing until she rounded the corner and saw the haystack. Bright red flames already licked the hay, blackening the stack as it devoured the dry grass.

“Oh, dear God above, our hay.” She ran back to the house and beat the triangle with all her strength. Then rushing inside, she set Andrew on the bed with a warning to stay put and grabbed the rifle from its pegs by the door. Three times she shot into the air, sending the call for help the neighbors had used since they first arrived.

Lars came running back first. He needed no instructions. By now the black smoke was rising and beginning to billow. “You winch, and I’ll carry and toss. Fill all the buckets you have while I see if I can fork most of it off the stack.”

Ingeborg prayed her way through turning the handle at the well and dumping the water into buckets. Haakan arrived on the back of
one of the team, dragging the other by a rein. With the sod on the roof of the barn, it was in no danger, but the hay . . . if they lost it . . . She refused to contemplate the enormity of that. They had to save the hay.

The flames flared high enough to see from the well now. Lars hadn’t been able to slow it, let alone put it out.

W
hat can I do, Mor?” Thorliff asked as he pelted into the yard.

Ingeborg wiped away the sweat already streaming into her eyes. “Where are the sheep?”

“Baptiste stayed with them. I heard the shots and saw the smoke.” Thorliff dumped the bucket cranked up from the well.

“Take Andrew over to Tante Kaaren.” The crank spun around until the bucket hit water again. She could hear Haakan and Lars shouting at someone else arriving at breakneck speed.

Thorliff took off as though a wolf was hot on his heels. She could hear Andrew screaming.

Turn, dump, spin, and crank again. She kept up the pace, trying to keep ahead of the growing line of bucket passers. The Baard tribe arrived, and Penny took over the handle.

“Tante’s in the house making coffee. She brought some bread and such to feed everyone.” Penny cranked, and Ingeborg dumped the buckets.

A cry went up. “Save the other stack!”

“Oh, dear Lord, the lumber.” Haakan’s shout ripped up her spine.

“Douse it!” a voice yelled.

More teams with wagons and riders pounded into the yard.

The smoke burned eyes and throats.

Someone dropped a second bucket on a line into the well. Ingeborg looked up to see Metiz on the end of the rope. Tears, sweat—she wiped them away again and kept on dumping.

Her arms felt as if the sockets had loosened. Someone brushed at her hair.

“A spark. Can’t let you burn too.” Mrs. Johnson patted her shoulder.
“Here, Penny, you join the line, and I will crank.”

Ingeborg only nodded. Bits of burning hay rode the breeze to breed new flames. When had the wind come up? She could hear shouting, the roar of the fire, and now the snapping of dry wood.
Dear God, the lumber for the barn, our hay, how will we make it through the winter? If only . . .
She stopped that thought aborning.
If only
would only slow her down, and she’d learned in the last few years what time and strength that useless game devoured.

Please, God, keep anyone from getting
hurt.
Please save the animals. Please, God
kept time with the dumping of buckets. Her skirts, heavy with splashed water, dragged at her waist.

“Here.” Agnes handed her a cup of water and a soaked dish towel. “Drink the one and let me tie the other over your nose and mouth. You’ll breathe easier.”

Ingeborg kneaded her screaming back with one fist, drank, and then let Agnes tie the wet cloth behind her neck. While her throat still felt as if she’d been swallowing flames, she could breathe easier.

“Mange takk,” she whispered, but Agnes was on to doing the same for others.

Heat like that of the worst imaginable August afternoon burned her back and arms. Knowing how she felt, she took a bucketful and dumped it on the backs of those around her, then turned while Metiz did the same for her.

How long, oh, Lord?
She glanced up at the smoke-filled sky. It should be dark by now. Had time stood still? Wasn’t this just a taste of what hell would be like?

“Enough. You stop.” Metiz laid her hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder. “Fire done.”

Ingeborg straightened to find others setting down their buckets. The smoke had indeed let up, the west wind blowing it away. She untied the still saturated cloth, thanks to the sweat and splashing water, and wiped strands of hair back from her forehead. She forced herself to turn and look toward the damage. Only a few humps of charred hay lay where a fine haystack had stood that morning, a mute testimony to the fierce heat. The next stack, half burned, still smoldered, with Lars and Haakan forking off any blackened or smoking remnants. The rest would be so water soaked no self-respecting animal would eat it. She couldn’t see around the corner of the barn and corral to where the lumber had been stacked.

She knew she didn’t want to see.

Thorliff came to stand beside her, so blackened by soot that if she didn’t recognize his eyes, she might not have been sure whose boy he was.

“We saved one stack.” He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand.

“And the lumber?”

“Some. All that behind the barn is water soaked, but it will dry.” He shook his head. “But that pile between the hay and the barn . . .” Another headshake. He looked up at her. “One of the cats had her kittens in the stack. Far wouldn’t let me find them.”

She could see his chin quiver. Two days earlier, he’d shown Andrew the squirming little tiger kitten, eyes only half open. There were four kittens, the mother cat allowing the boys to see them only because Thorliff squirted milk from the cow’s teat directly into her mouth. Seeing the cat licking her whiskers free of foaming milk always made Andrew laugh.

“Ja, those things happen.” She laid an arm across his shoulders. “She or the other cats will have more kittens. Are the rest of the animals all right?”