No Distance Too Far (15 page)

“Thank you.” Joshua slammed shut the lid on one of the side boxes that were reinforced to carry heavy tools and supplies. “We just need to paint it.”

“That isn’t a necessity.”

“I know, but it will protect the wood from the elements.”

“Very true. Go see what colors Penny has in stock, and you can get on it.”

Joshua noticed that Hjelmer didn’t say
we
. He must have some other project in his thoughts. They’d been working together up until now. Should he say something or just let it go? Curiosity was usually a good thing, but sometimes it got in the way. “So how long do you think it will be before we head out?” He spent every minute he could working on his own house. Now that the water was nearly out of the earthen basement, he could think about pouring the concrete. Leaving it to cure while they traveled meant that when they got back, he could order his house from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Thinking of the house automatically sent his thoughts careening to Astrid. Was he doing all this in vain, trying to get his house built so that he had a place to bring his bride? That is, if she agreed to marry him. Waiting had never been one of his strong suits.

He put his tools away and glanced at the sun. He could probably get the paint before dinner and be ready to paint that afternoon. That is, if Penny had any paint in colors that would be appropriate for a work wagon. None of those wild colors like he’d seen on a gypsy wagon years ago when the gypsies camped for a time near his father’s farm. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to how their wagons were designed inside for living and working space. He and his younger brother had watched them dancing and laughing around a fire one night. Had his father known, he’d have tanned them both. Joshua couldn’t see why everyone feared and hated them so.

“I’ll be over at Thorliff’s,” Hjelmer said as he turned to go.

“Okay.” He watched his boss walk down the street. Something was up indeed. Hjelmer had that faraway look on his face, a sure indication he was thinking hard on something new. Once he and Trygve headed out to dig wells and set windmills, there weren’t too many men left in Blessing to draw on for general work. With Hjelmer most likely off selling, they needed another set of hands. Oh well, it was none of his business until Hjelmer chose to fill him in. He glanced out across the fields to where spring work should have started, but the fields were just too wet. The heavy machinery would compact the soil, which needed to be loose for the seeds to sprout.

Too wet, too dry. He was glad he wasn’t farming any longer. Striding down the street, he jumped up on the boardwalk, ignoring the two steps, and pushed open the door to the mercantile.

“Good morning, Mr. Landsverk,” Penny called from the aisle off to his right. “Grand morning, is it not?”

“That it is.” He tipped his flat-brimmed hat back so he could see better in the dimness after the brilliant sun outside.

“What can I be getting for you?”

“We’re ready to paint the wagon, so I wondered what you have on hand. I think we’ll need three or four gallons by the time I give it two good coats.”

“Would whitewash do?”

“I was hoping for something more substantial.” Glancing around the store, Joshua inhaled the rich aromas of leather and oil, metals and cloth, liniment and soaps. It still seemed strange to him that she no longer carried food and feed, although if he inhaled deeply enough, he was sure the fragrance of spices and the pickle barrel still lurked, as though they had permeated the wood.

“Over here.” Penny led him to shelves along the back wall, where rakes, shovels, hoes, and tools like hammers and saws hung from pegs and racks. A spinner rack of garden seeds caught his eye. No sense thinking about a garden since he wouldn’t be in town to take care of it. Did Astrid love working in the garden like his mother had, or did she do it because growing food to eat was a necessity? So many things about her he didn’t know. Maybe that would be a good topic to bring up in his letter tonight. Coming up with things to write about took some doing. Saying “I miss you” over and over got a bit boring, even though he most assuredly did.

He jerked his thoughts back to answer Penny’s question. “Ah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if black would be all right. Someone ordered three gallons and then decided they didn’t like it. I can give you a good deal on it.”

“Black.” He’d pictured dark blue or green, but this wasn’t the time to be choosy. “Three gallons, eh?” He squinted his eyes, estimating if he could get by with that.

“I could have more in a week.”

“All right. I’ll at least start with that. Think we’ll whitewash it on the inside, so give me a couple of gallons of that too.” The bonging of the church bell announced that noon had arrived. “I’ll take what I can now and pick up the rest after dinner.”

“Good. I’ll put it on Hjelmer’s account, and it’ll be sitting out on the porch when you get back. If you see Sophie, tell her that her ledgers came in.”

“I will.” He tipped his hat and grinned at her. “Good day.”

“Oh, are you and Johnny playing for church on Sunday?”

“I believe so.” One more thing to add to his to-do list—practice time with his young protégé. “Johnny sure is working hard at his guitar.”

“I know. Pastor Solberg is so proud of him. I wish Dr. Elizabeth had time to teach Linnea to play the piano. She wants so badly to learn.”

“I could show her some basic chords on the guitar, if you want.” How had those words gotten out of his mouth? He didn’t have time to take on one more thing. “Won’t Jonathan be back fairly soon? College lets out in May. Maybe he could find the time.”

“That’s a good idea. And yes, basic chords would be wonderful. She’s been picking out songs when she can get to the piano. We might get a real music group going here. You still playing at that Grange Hall in Grafton?”

“Not as often.” He’d spent the winter doing everything he could to bring in extra money to pay off his lot and save up for the house. Owing someone money needled him. He picked up four of the cans by their wire handles and headed out the door. Where would he find paintbrushes? Mr. Sam would be the one to ask. He kept all their tools and supplies in good order. “See you later.”

After he dropped his armloads off at the wagon, he whistled on his way to the boardinghouse. Life was much easier since they’d pulled the wagon into town from the machine shed out at Lars’s. What could be better than a spring day like this one? Sun and breeze to dry the wet land. As he had at the store, he leaped the stairs to the front door to the boardinghouse. Someone had put up the screen doors while he worked this morning. He opened it to step right into the vestibule, since the oval-glassed doors were latched open.

A slight breeze tiptoed through the hallway, blowing away the last of the winter doldrums with a breath of spring. Mrs. Wiste wasn’t behind the desk, so perhaps she had gone home for something. Sophie generally spent the morning over her bookwork behind the chest-high partition. Joshua pushed open the swinging half doors into the dining room, where bright sun from the long windows nearly blinded the eyes, reflecting off the white tablecloths.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Landsverk,” Miss Christopherson called in greeting. “You sound mighty chipper.”

He smiled as he took off his hat and hung it on the coat-tree by the door. Her greeting never failed to lift his spirits. “How so?”

“I heard you whistling down the street. What a pleasant sound.” She set the basket of fresh rolls on his table. Not that it had his name on it, but it was where he always sat.

“Thank you.” He inhaled with a grin. “Something sure smells mighty tasty. But then it always smells good in here.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, glancing around the room as he did. “Not too many here for dinner today, eh?”

“No, the train is late, and that large family must be waiting over at the station. They checked out earlier. I’ll bring your dinner right out.”

“Thanks.” Joshua snagged one of the rolls from the basket and held it to his nose for a moment. There was something about the smell of fresh-baked bread that always reminded him of home and his mother’s kitchen. She had loved to bake bread. Her love of cooking was legendary, but she said there was something healing about baking bread, perhaps because the good Lord referred so often to the bread of life. Still warm. He took a bite before even buttering it.

A shriek at the same moment as a crashing of metal to floor jerked his attention to the kitchen. The “Oh no!” brought him to his feet and leaping for the doorway.

“What happened?” As the words left his mouth, he saw the pot sideways on the floor, a puddle spread out around Lily Mae, who was holding her hand and weeping, the front of her dress and apron soaked as well. “How bad is it?” He crossed the room in two strides. Mrs. Sam was ripping off the apron, holding the garments away from her daughter’s body so she wouldn’t burn further.

“You want me to go for Dr. Elizabeth?” he asked.

“No, no. Nothin’ like dat.” Mrs. Sam glanced at him over her shoulder. “We put her hand in ice water. Cools it off.” She nodded toward the dining room. “You dinner be out in a minute.”

Joshua watched the young weeping woman as her brother, Lemuel, picked up the kettle, set it on the table, and went for a mop. “You’re sure?”

Miss Christopherson took his arm. “Thank you, but she’ll be taken care of. Your dinner is getting cold.” She picked up a plate with one hand and the coffeepot with the other and preceded him out the door.

Thorliff and Hjelmer entered the dining room as Joshua obediently sat down.

“Better bring on two more plates,” Hjelmer said. They stopped beside Joshua’s table. “You mind if we sit here? Got some discussing to do.”

“No, not at all.” He motioned for them to sit.

“What happened in the kitchen?” Thorliff asked.

“A pot of hot water slipped or something and burned Lily Mae’s hand. Hopefully her clothes kept the rest of her from being burned. I wanted to go for Dr. Bjorklund, but Mrs. Sam said no in a way I didn’t figure I should argue. They put her hand in ice water.”

Miss Christopherson sailed through the door with two filled plates and set them in front of the men. “Coffee will be right out. Oh, you need more rolls.” She quickly grabbed silver and napkins from a nearby table.

“How is Lily Mae?” Thorliff asked.

“She’ll be all right. At least the kettle wasn’t boiling yet. And thank God it was water and not grease.” She headed back for the kitchen.

Thorliff looked relieved.

“Is Elizabeth feeling better today?” Hjelmer asked quietly.

Thorliff nodded. “Had her close early, though, to rest in case there are any emergencies Mor can’t handle.”

As the three men dug into the baked chicken and rice, Joshua kept his questions to himself.

“You got the paint?”

“Black. Three gallons. I’ll see if I can make it go far enough.” He buttered another roll and took a bite. “Mr. Sam is making sure the drilling machinery is all tuned up. We could leave day after tomorrow if it is dry enough.”

“Most likely the supplies won’t be here for another few days anyway.” The two men exchanged a look, and Hjelmer nodded. “I think you could tell something’s been in the works.”

Joshua nodded and set his fork down to pick up his coffee cup. He watched Hjelmer over the edge of his cup, now cradled in both hands.

“You remember young Daniel Jeffers was here last month?” Hjel-mer asked.

“Sure, he told me about his missing father.”

“Well, back then we talked a bit about his father’s invention and the possibility of going into a partnership with him producing the improved seed drill.”

“Here in Blessing?”

Both men nodded.

“But where, and who would you get to work for you?” Joshua asked. “There aren’t enough able-bodied men around here to do the work that already needs doing. We need another man on our crew, as it is.”

“I know that. On top of it, we most likely will have a hospital to build come summer too.”

“And I want to build a house. I know I’m not the only one.”

Thorliff and Hjelmer both nodded. “Not a bad place to be in, wouldn’t you say?”

“True, but
—
”

“We decided we need to delegate some of the responsibilities. So starting today, you will be in charge of the windmill and well drilling portion of the business. I’ll show you how to do the ordering and keep some simple record books. You will have Trygve working for you, and I think Gilbert too. They don’t really need him on the farm, and he is a good worker. Being single, he won’t have to worry about leaving a family either.”

“Trygve won’t be going with the threshing crew or help with haying?”

“Nope. He now works for us full time. You’ll need to keep track of their hours too, and Penny will issue paychecks first of the month and midmonth.”

“Who’s going to get out and sell the new accounts?”

“I’m thinking word of mouth will most likely do that for us. I have a stack of letters and some orders people have phoned in to me. Might be enough to take us through the summer. I’ll give them all to you to follow up on.”

Joshua leaned back in his chair, slightly shaking his head. He could hear his mother reminding him not to rock the chair back on the legs unless he wanted to fix the chair himself. He kept the feet on the ground. Why wasn’t he more excited about this?

“You look some doubtful.”

“You have to admit that’s a healthy dose of news over dinner.”

Miss Christopherson stopped at their table. “Can I get you seconds, gentlemen?”

All three nodded.

“We have dried-apple spice cake with caramel frosting for dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll skip that second plate, then.” Hjelmer paused. “And maybe not.” He turned slightly in his chair to look at Joshua full on. “We will double your wages for now and see how it all goes. I know it is a lot of responsibility, but you are more than capable of handling it all.”

His heart skipped a beat at the compliment, but then he heard the old disdain of his father and hesitated again. “I’m not a salesman.”

“But you know how to produce good service, and windmills will become more and more popular. We are at the edge of a boom.