RR05 - Tender Mercies (34 page)

“I found it.” He turned and yelled so Baptiste could hear. “Tell everyone to stay right where they are, and we’ll pass the wood.” So shouting, he picked up a chunk and passed it to Baptiste, who passed it on.

We might need enough for all night and tomorrow too. How long can we do this without freezing?
He passed the wood, one chunk at time, until he could see much was diminished. Since he was under the shed roof, he knew he was more protected than the children. He sent ten more pieces, then he took Baptiste’s hand and started back, the children clinging to each other behind him.

Once they were all inside with the door closed again, he breathed a prayer of thanksgiving and surveyed his charges.
Please, God, keep all the parents home. They must know that I wouldn’t send their children out in a snowstorm, let alone a blizzard like this
.

“Well done.” He smiled at the younger ones gathered in front of him and gestured to the wood stacked at the back of the room. The older ones were gathered around the stove, still shivering, their teeth chattering as they tried to warm up. “All right, let’s get moving so we can keep warm.”

“When is my ma coming?” Ellie Wold wore the soberest expression he’d ever seen on her little face.

“Not until the blizzard blows away.” Pastor Solberg squatted down and drew the littlest ones into his circling arms. “We’re safe here, and your folks know that. We will keep warm and have warm water to drink.”

“What will we eat?” Jerry Valders asked, his face sober too, the teasing light gone out of his eyes at the enormity of their situation.

“Well, does anyone have anything left in their lunch pails?” As each student shook his head, Solberg nodded. “I didn’t think so, but we won’t starve to death if we miss a meal or two.”
Or three or four. Dear Lord, let it clear by morning
.

Dark came early, since the window was soon covered with snow and blocked out what light was left. They slid open the windows on the front of the stove to have some light, and Solberg gathered them around the stove.

“Let me tell you a story,” he began.

“Oh, good. I want David and Goliath.” Andrew crossed his legs in front of him.

Every once in a while, the teacher would have them get up and march around the room while he put more wood on the fire, but then they would gather round the stove again. The cold pressed in on them as the wind howled over the top of the snow-covered schoolhouse.

They played Twenty Questions, reviewed all the arithmetic tables, and sang songs. As the younger ones fell asleep, the older cuddled them close, every one pressed against another to share the warmth. Sometime in the night, Pastor Solberg filled the metal pail with snow and let it melt atop the stove so they would have something to drink.

Never had he spent such a long night. He recited Bible verses to himself, answered questions when one of the children awoke, and dreamed of Mary Martha. What was she doing? When would she come back?

What if the blizzard lasted longer than a night and a day?

“I’m really hungry,” a voice spoke, penetrating the stillness.

Pastor Solberg jerked alert. Day must have come because the room was lighter. The wind howled the same as the children stirred like a pile of puppies coming awake.

“I know, Joseph. We all are,” he said to the hungry boy.

“Pa coming soon?” Andrew asked Thorliff.

“Soon as he can.”

“I’m cold.”

“Me too.”

Solberg eyed the woodpile. Would they have enough to last the day, or would they have to brave the killing cold and wind again?

Someone started to cry and another hushed the tearful one.

“All right. Everybody up, and let’s get moving around. We’ll warm up that way. That’s right, swing your arms and stamp your feet. Hamre, do you have your harmonica here?”

“Ja.”

“Can you play for us, and we will all dance?”

“Ja.” He pulled his harmonica from his pocket and blew into it. With his mittened hands, the music hardly came through.

“Come over close to the stove and have a drink first, that might help.”

Hamre did as told, and the dance began. Everyone partnered everyone as they whirled and stamped around the room dancing polkas, the Hambro, and the Pols. If someone didn’t know the steps, they skipped and clapped anyway.

When they tired of that, they gathered around the stove again for more lessons, the older quizzing the younger. Solberg smiled reassuringly whenever someone looked at him with questions or fear in their eyes.

“Come now,” he said at one point. “Let’s move close together and pray that God will take the blizzard away and keep all of our families safe.”

The children gathered, snugged as close together as they could.

“Father God, we know that thou canst see us in spite of the storm. We thank thee for thy protection, that we are safe within this snug school, and that our families are safe in their homes. I thank thee for each child here, that we are all precious in thy sight. Please, we ask thee, calm the storm as thou didst on the Lake of Galilee, that we may return to our homes. In Jesus’ precious name we pray. Amen.”

“You didn’t ask for food.” Ellie frowned up at him.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I didn’t. Would you like to?”

Ellie folded her mittened hands over each other and scrunched her eyes closed. “God, we didn’t have any supper last night nor breakfast this morning. It must be dinnertime now, don’t you think? Please send us something to eat as soon as y—thou can. Amen.”

She looked up at Pastor Solberg. “I didn’t say the right words, huh?”

“Ellie, you said the perfect words. Thank you.”

They alternated moving around, listening to stories, and reviewing their lessons in the dimness. Time seemed not only to stand still but to trickle backward.

“Anyone want a drink? I’m going to refill the pail with snow to melt.”

Several of the children took sips from the dipper and passed it back. The dipper went around again, and Baptiste took the pail and headed for the door. When he cracked it open, the snow was packed solid against the door.

“Oh, look.” Deborah’s eyes grew round.

“My pa will bust through that,” Knute Baard announced.

“Mine too.” Thorliff nodded at the same time.

Baptiste filled the pail and, with the help of two others, slammed the door shut again and dropped the bar back in place to keep it closed. The bucket rang in the silence when he set it back on the stove.

“Children, listen!”

“I don’t hear nothin’.” Toby White shook his head.

“I know.”

“The storm is over! The storm is gone!” With shrieks of joy they clapped their mittened hands and jumped up and down.

“Thank you, God.” Never had Pastor Solberg offered a three-word prayer more heartily.

“How will they get in?” Thorliff stopped beside the pastor while the others continued their dancing.

“We will begin digging with sticks of firewood.” He turned to the older girls. “You keep the stove roaring so they can see the chimney smoke in case the whole building is buried.”

“Really? You think it could be?” Swen went to the door and swung the bar up again. “Where we gonna put all the snow?”

They took turns digging, piling the snow along one wall and packing it down. Slowly they packed and cleared until they were beyond the doorframe and tunneling on an upward slant. Each time they changed diggers, they packed a step to reach higher.

“It’s getting brighter.” Swen stood in the tunnel and scraped back the snow to Knute, who scraped it back to Baptiste, where it was picked up by the middle children and carried to the side, where the little ones tramped it down.

When Swen broke through into the daylight, everyone cheered.

“Thank thee, Father.”

The bigger boys pushed back the snow so there was room to crawl out.

“What do you see?” Solberg stood in the school with the smaller children around him.

“The church roof and the store. Some of those mounds must be your house and barn. And the sack house.” Swen bent back down to yell inside. “And here come the sleighs.”

“See, God made the storm stop ’cause you asked.” Ellie clung to his coat. “I bet they brung food too, huh?”

“Yes, Ellie, I’m sure they did.” Pastor Solberg thought of his horse and cat. Would they still be alive or frozen to death? And what about all the range cattle?

Pastor Solberg helped each of the children up the packed snow steps and into the waiting arms of their parents. He banked the stove and, stepping into the tunnel, closed the door behind him. He’d come back later and shovel out the snow before the floor turned to mud.

“Come on, Pastor, we’ll get your house shoveled out before we get on our way, unless you want to come stay at our house,” Haakan offered as he and the other men shook Solberg’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks for the offer, but I need to take care of my animals. I’d be mighty grateful if you’d shovel a path to my house, though.”

“Ja, that we can do,” Haakan replied. “And thank you for taking such good care of the children.”

“Thank God you are all right.” Joseph Baard hugged Anji and clapped a hand on his boys’ shoulders.

“Your children are all pretty wonderful,” Pastor Solberg said, waving good-bye as his pupils were tucked in the sleighs under elk robes, quilts, and blankets.

“We’ll never forgit this, you know,” Joseph declared.

“Nor I.” Pastor Solberg shook his head.

Dear Mary Martha,

You wouldn’t believe the blizzard we just went through. It hit within minutes and trapped me and the children in the schoolhouse overnight. I couldn’t even go to my house and get blankets or food or anything. We had a short break, and then the storm returned for almost a week. Some are saying it was one of the worst blizzards ever. Farmers lost whole herds of cattle, and people were taking to burning furniture to stay alive. All of us here in Blessing came through relatively unscathed.

But life is hard here in our little town right now. I believe we are all still sorrowing over little Anna’s death and that of an older man who lived south of here. While death is always sorrowful for those left behind, Mr. Henderson had lived a long and full life, nothing like the snuffing out of our young candle. I know that our heavenly Father is doing what He thinks best, but sometimes we struggle with accepting His will. When Mrs. Helmsrude asked me why Anna died, what could I say?

I’m sorry to sound so down in the dumps, because I am really rejoicing that we lived through the night without anyone getting frostbite or starving to death, although I know that wouldn’t happen so suddenly. I am thankful that none of the families tried to come get their children until the blizzard cleared, for they could have been lost forever.

Kaaren is almost ready to begin teaching signing here at the school, but we will wait until the weather lets up some.

I trust that your mother is improving. Have you thought of bringing her here to Blessing?

I remain faithfully
your friend,
John

Springfield

Dear John,

I was so glad to hear from you. When I think of Anna not being there in school, the tears begin to flow all over again. How I ache for her poor mother and father.

It is hard for me to believe that a snowstorm can be so vicious as to keep you at the school. Thanks be to our God that you are all safe.

You didn’t mention Katy, and Zeb never writes. How is she? Tell my brother that his mother would feel much better if she knew how he was. How are the Bjorklunds? How are the twins doing in learning their sign language? I have so many questions, please forgive me.

The Christmas rose is blooming and the crocuses are just beginning to show color. Mother loves the snowdrops and feared she would never see them again. I am looking forward to the furring of the oak trees as the leaves begin to unfurl. Uncle Jed says there are kittens in the barn, and when you see Zeb, tell him old Blue is heavy with pups.