A New Day Rising

NEW DAT
&ISING

Books by Lauraine Snelling

A SECRET REFUGE

Daughter of Twin Oaks

Sisters of the Confederacy

The Long Way Home

DAKOTAH TREASURES

Ruby

Pearl

Opal

Amethyst

DAUGHTERS OF BLESSING

A Promise for Ellie

Sophie's Dilemma

A Touch of Grace

RED RIVER OF THE NORTH

An Untamed Land

A New Day Rising

A Land to Call Home

The Reapers' Song

Tender Mercies

Blessing in Disguise

RETURN TO RED RIVER

A Dream to Follow

Believing the Dream

More Than a Dream

To the Round Robins and the Birds of Pray for all their support and encouragement.

LAURAINE SNELLING is an award-winning author of over fifty books, fiction and nonfiction, for adults and young adults. Besides writing books and articles, she teaches at writers' conferences across the country. She and her husband, Wayne, have two grown sons, a basset named Chewy, and a cockatiel watch bird named Bidley. They make their home in California.

Minnesota north woods

February 1884

imber-r-r-r-r!"

Haakan Bjorklund shaded his eyes against the sun glinting off the snow-capped branches and watched as the ancient pine crashed to its death. Branches exploded from the trees around and beneath as the monolith fell, sending a shower of long green needles and resinous pitch that followed the plunging tree to a snowy grave. Silence followed, a tribute to the death. One last branch, snagged on a companion giant, tumbled to the snow beneath.

"All right, let's get those branches stripped," the boss yelled.

Two men with a crosscut saw nodded and sent Haakan and his partner, Swede, the go-ahead signal.

"We got da ting ready for you. See you do so good." The speaker smiled, his cracked lips showing a missing front tooth. He'd lost it in a discussion over a card played wrong the night before. His right eye, only half open, sported a purple swelling left by the contender's fist.

` Ja, like that would be hard. You fellows couldn't get started sawing if we didn't wedge 'em for you." Haakan hefted the heavy ax he wore across his shoulder as if it grew there naturally. He stepped to the first branch, and with three perfectly placed cuts, he severed a limb equal to the trunk of a small tree. As he worked his way up the trunk, he could hear the process repeated on felled trees all around him. The virgin north woods were being leveled, tree by tree. Swede worked the other side of the huge trunk, and when they reached the end of usable wood, they severed the tip and rolled the log to finish cutting the branches half buried in the snow.

Haakan felt his muscles loosen, and despite the near zero air, sweat trickled down under his arms and the middle of his back. As the rhythm of heft and slam continued, his mind wandered back to the cookshack and the widow woman who ran it. She served pancakes so light the men nearly had to hold them down with a fork lest they float away. But it wasn't only her pancakes that drew Haakan's attention. Trading pleasantries with her at mealtimes had become the high point of his day. And when he could bring crinkles to the edges of her warm brown eyes and a smile followed by a laugh that even sourpuss Johnson couldn't resist, Haakan felt like he could defeat the entire crew single-handedly.

"Hey, Bjorklund, you gonna daydream all morning?"

Haakan snapped the last limb off by stepping on it and raised his ax to his shoulder. As they made their way to the next marked tree, he removed his whetstone from his pocket and honed the edges of his double-bitted friend. His father had always said dull axes caused more accidents than sharp ones, and this son had no intention of losing wages due to an injury.

As soon as he had enough money saved, he planned to propose to Mrs. Mary Landsverk and suggest they take their earnings and head west to homestead some land of their own. After fifteen years routing about the country, he was ready to tap into that dream of free land and a strong, happy family. The fact she had two small sons only added to her value, far as he could see.

When the steam whistle blew for dinner, he followed the rest of the crew over to the sledge and climbed aboard. While the others jawed and teased one another, he worked at the bits of his ax with his whetstone. It was about due for a real sharpening on the grindstone.

"Hey, Bjorklund, there's a letter for you." Cappy, a logger until he lost an arm on the ripping saw and now a bookkeeper in the office, passed down the rows of benches handing out letters to those fortunate enough to have relatives who wrote. "You got a girl hid somewhere we don't know about?"

Haakan thanked him with a smile that reached the edges of eyes blue as the fjords of his homeland. The Bjorklunds were known for the blue of their eyes and jaws squared with determination. He recognized his mother's handwriting. "Ja sure, this one, she's known me all my life." He stuck the letter in his pocket to be read in private. He hadn't heard from home for a long while. When he looked at the postmark, he knew why. This one had been mailed three months earlier.

He looked up to catch the smile of the young boy who refilled the platters of beef and bowls of potatoes for the hungry crew.

"More coffee, Mr. Bjorklund?"

"Ja, Charlie." Haakan held up his cup. "Mange takk." Over the top of the cup he caught Mrs. Landsverk looking his way. He raised the now full cup in a toast of gratitude and returned to his plate. He knew if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't get enough to fill his belly before they returned to the woods. As the men finished eating, the noise level rose accordingly.

Curses split the air over at the next table, causing everyone else to stop talking and listen.

"Not again." Haakan dropped his knife and fork and turned to see who'd started the commotion. But he knew without looking. Swede and Jacob were at it again.

Haakan got to his feet, cut his way between the stomping and cheering men the fight had drawn, and exited the building through the door nearest the kitchen. The shoveled path led to the outhouse. At least out here he wouldn't be forced to break up another fight. Just because he stood half-a-head above most of the men and could reach farther than any of them, he'd been deemed the peacemaker. He wore a cut lip to prove it.