An Untamed Land (33 page)

“Sheep.” He shook his head. “No, Lamb. Call her Lamb.”

“But when she grows up?”

“Lamb.”

“We’ll see. Maybe you’ll think of something different.”

“Lamb.” Thorliff clamped his hand on the thong too. “She’s hungry. Onkel Carl said to pound a stick in the ground and tie her to it so she won’t run away.”

“We’ll do that later. Right now, we’ll tie her to the wheel.” Ingeborg did so, moving the cow’s tether to the front wheel at the same time. In one trip, they’d become farmers with livestock to tend. Soon there’d be a calf, either to raise for another ox, or a heifer to breed and continue to build their dairy herd. There’d be butter and cheese, maybe even some to sell. After all, St. Andrew was only three hours away. Surely someone there would like to buy her cheese.

Roald dropped his announcement after Kaaren had poured his last cup of breakfast coffee. “That woman you call Metis has tried to file a claim against this land. The land office is looking into it. She said she had a dwelling here until it burned down last year. That is why some of the sod had been broken.”

“What will happen now?” Ingeborg felt the cloud return and hover over her head.

“She’s nothing but a squatter, that’s all. She never filed a legal claim. Even we can’t file officially until the surveyors come through.” Roald took a slug of coffee. “Besides that, her husband was the one given the land, and according to her, he died a year and a half ago. She doesn’t have a chance.”

There must be some way for Metis to keep her plot of land
, Ingeborg thought.
Surely the rest is enough for us, isn’t it?

I
nstead of planting the rest of the garden in the plot by the woods, we’ll put it next to the soddy.”

“The soddy?” Ingeborg looked up from the basket she was weaving of willow branches. Roald had not mentioned building the soddy for so long, she’d given up hope, thinking that would be the last thing done before winter.

“Ja, we will seed what’s left to wheat and oats, along with potatoes and corn. We’ll start busting a plot right here and then use the sod to build the walls,” Roald said. “We can raise the walls after dark, when the horses and oxen are out to graze.” He looked over to Carl, who was carving a larger yoke for the oxen as the other would soon be too small. He’d been working on another scythe handle, since they needed two for cutting grass for hay. June was fast approaching and the prairie grass seemed to grow an inch a night. Already they were reminding Thorliff not to go beyond where he could see the wagon. They told him the tales they had heard of children who wandered off in the deep grass and were never seen again.

The next afternoon, Roald was as good as his word. While Carl took the horses out to the ever-widening field of broken sod, Roald paced out the house, twelve feet wide and fourteen feet long. He pounded pegs for the corners and then stepped back and surveyed what he’d done. With a nod, he turned to Ingeborg. “We will put the door and window here, facing south, so the sun can come in to light the winter.”

Ingeborg stepped into her doorway and turned to see what would greet her each morning. Prairie rolled before her, grass rippling before the wind in unending shades of green. “I will plant a wild rose right here.” She pointed to the side of the imagined door.
“And a tree from the riverbank to shade us in the summer. It will go here.” She pointed to the western corner.

“Ja, well, we will see.” Roald strode off to where the oxen grazed, moving slowly in their hobbles. Thanks to the grazing animals, they now had better than an acre cropped short, resembling an honest-to-goodness yard. The chickens scratched in the shade of the wagon, eating their fill each day of bugs and seeds. Both the cow and Lamb were tied to stakes that were moved when needed.

“I think tonight we need a celebration.” Kaaren brought the mattock over and handed it to Ingeborg. “You scrape and I will rake, then we’ll change off. We’ll get a head start on the floor. Metis said to pack it and then wash it with water mixed with cow dung until it forms a hard surface. Otherwise we will have dust in our beds all winter.”

Ingeborg made a face. One day they would have wood floors again, along with wooden walls and real glass windows. She pulled the blade across the ground, cutting into the soil just enough to shave off the grass tops. Within minutes, sweat dripped into her eyes and ran down her back.

“Here, it is my turn.” Kaaren switched places with her, and the labor continued until nothing showed but roots and black soil. Then, using the head of the heavy tool, they tamped the ground, stamping their feet at the same time.

When Gunny started to fuss after her afternoon nap, they quit their tamping, and Ingeborg headed for the river with a bucket in either hand. Roald had spoken of carving yokes for the carrying of water also. Soon they’d be like the oxen, yoked together and pulling hard. The men had also talked of digging a well. Someday, they would have these things.

The shade from the canopy of trees kissed her with coolness. She lingered for a moment. As it always did, her gaze traveled to the spot where she’d seen the wolf. Since he said it was well-cured, Carl had taken the log she’d fallen against for carving his yoke. Thank God, her body seemed well-cured also. As ever, she thought of the babe that was no more. She would have felt the fluttering movements by now, and her waistbands would have had to be let out. She leaned against a tree trunk for a moment, still trying to accept the accident as “God’s will,” as Kaaren always said. She shook her head and started again down the trail.

Out on the river, two men paddled a canoe upstream toward Grand Forks. She returned their wave and dipped her buckets full
of the muddy water. A turtle sunned itself on a log, and across on the other bank, two ducks dabbled in the shallows. Overhead a crow announced the news with a hoarse caw, flapping its wings and settling in the top of a cottonwood. Ingeborg checked again on the sapling she’d marked for her own. It would be easy to dig up and transplant, and she’d carry water for it if needed. She
would
have a tree by the house, and this one would be only the start.

By the time they’d watered down the floor of the yet unwalled soddy, allowed it to dry, and watered it again, the sun was slipping rapidly to its berth. Ingeborg thought she saw something moving off to the south and shaded her eyes with her hands.

“A wagon, there’s a wagon coming.”

Roald stopped the oxen, and Kaaren climbed on the tongue of their own wagon to look. She leaped down again like a young girl. “We will have company for supper. Quick, Ingeborg, slice more dried venison real fine so it can cook quickly. I’ll make biscuits and . . . Thorliff, you see if the hens left us any more eggs.” She flew around like an officer ordering her troops, much to their delight.

By the time the wagon drove into the yard, the stew bubbled merrily over the coals, a cake was baking in the cast-iron spider, and the coffee’s aroma welcomed the visitors.

“God dag.” Roald greeted the man who drove the wagon hooped in white, just as theirs had been.

The man returned the greeting with a smile. “So good to hear the right language. We can actually talk to each other.”

His wife poked her head out over the seat. “My heaven, what a sight you are. Just like visiting at home.”

“Supper’s nearly ready, so the sooner you unhitch your horses, the sooner we can eat.” Kaaren wiped her hands on her apron. “We were going to have a celebration tonight, and now you will make it even better. Our first guests.”

Ingeborg listened to Kaaren chatter and added her own smile of welcome.What
if these people settle near here? We could have neighbors
, friends. The thought set her heart to singing. As they introduced themselves, Thorliff clung to her skirts, keeping himself behind her until two boys near his age leaped from the back of the wagon.

“Now, Knute, Swen, you two behave,” Mrs. Baard ordered the two who looked like angels with not-so-angelic eyes. “Watch out for your sister.” A girlish version of the other two joined them on the ground. Next came a rounded rump, covered in brown calico
faded to tan, and finally a matching sunbonnet that shaded merry eyes. The woman clutched a baby to her ample bosom. “There now, children, be polite. Let the little boy, here, show you around.”

Ingeborg disentangled Thorliff’s hand and gently pushed him forward with a hand on his back. “Go on now. You can show them Lamb.”

“My, my, that surely does smell heavenly. We been eating mostly beans for the last week. Mr. Baard said we would stop in Grand Forks for a spell, but he’s impatient to find land to claim. Why I spect that’s what he’s talking to your men about right now.”

“I am sure you are right. Won’t you sit down?” Kaaren indicated the chunks of log that Carl and Roald had sawed off their sitting log. The simple act had made the clearing feel even more like a home, instead of a camp-out.

“Well, if you don’t mind, we’ve been sitting for some time.” Mrs. Baard rubbed the small of her back with one fist. She raised her voice. “Penny, you come on out now. She’s my sister’s daughter, come to live with us.” The baby, tucked under Mrs. Baard’s other arm like a sack of meal, whimpered and then let out a howl. “I’d best feed little Gus here before he frightens the birds out of the trees. He has some pair of lungs to him, he has.” She returned to the wagon for a quilt and plunked herself down on one of the stumps, flipped the quilt over her shoulder, and instantly the howl turned to suckling.

Ingeborg looked up to see a slim, older girl step shyly from the wagon, a book cradled in her arm. “Come join us. Would you like coffee?” At the girl’s nod, Ingeborg fetched another mug from the cook box in the back of their wagon.

She poured mugs of hot coffee for their guests, careful not to look at the mother and baby. The sight brought her own sorrow back, burning her eyes and throat. “Here, I’m sure this will wash the dust from your throat.”

“Mange takk, my dear.” Mrs. Baard sipped in appreciation and rolled her eyes. “An entire day without coffee feels more like a week.”

The three men joined the women around the fire, and the conversation regarding land, its location, and availability continued. Roald and Carl took turns telling of the riches of the area they’d chosen.

“There’s plenty of land to the west of us, at least there was in March when we found this piece. I put money down on the half
section adjoining ours when I was in Grand Forks.”

Ingeborg choked on her coffee.
He did what
? He shot her a look that said they’d discuss this later.

After everyone joined in grace, Kaaren and Ingeborg served the supper, ladling venison stew onto plates and passing them around. The biscuits were oohed and aahed over as hungry people devoured them. But when Kaaren brought out the egg cake, silence fell.

“I haven’t had cake since we left Ohio,” Mrs. Baard said reverently.

“We ain’t had eggs, period,” Mr. Baard added. “Now you children say thank you to these nice people for giving us such a good supper.” He accepted his piece of cake and inhaled the fragrance before taking a bite so large it left enough for only one more. “Now, that is something!”

After supper the men strolled over to the pegged-out soddy. “I see you’re all ready to lay the walls.” Baard nodded to the patch of cut sod. “Now where I come from, neighbors help each other. Why, I imagine that if us three strong backs got on this first thing in the morning, we could have it ready for the roof by suppertime. You cut any timbers for the braces on that yet?”

Roald shook his head. “I . . . we . . . ah . . .”

“Say no more. You talked me into settling in these here parts, and that makes us liable to help each other out. I’ll let you know when we are ready for our soddy raising.”

“Mange takk and more. We are grateful.”

Ingeborg clasped her hands together to keep them from clapping. By tomorrow night they’d have a roofless home and a cleared garden plot. Kaaren came to stand beside her, and she turned to say something. A single tear glistened in the dim light and meandered down to the younger woman’s chin. She stood straight and silent, without wiping it away.