A New Day Rising (23 page)

Kaaren followed Ingeborg out the door. "If you want to ride to St. Andrew, I will care for the boys and make the supper. If you go now, you would be back in time."

`Ja, I thought of that, too. Let me tell Haakan what we plan. I just wish Metiz would come back. She might know of something to help. Laudanum will only dull the pain, not cure the foot."

Ingeborg strode across the field to her own soddy, carrying Andrew because she had no time for him to examine every worm and leaf along the way. If curiosity were wealth, Andrew would be the richest child in the world. Thorliff was out with his sheep, and Haakan was plowing to the west. She could see him moving slowly down the furrows, the rich earth turning over behind him. They should have two teams out there so the planting could be finished. If it wouldn't scandalize Haakan too much, she would join him in the morning. Why was it men reacted so strongly to a woman's being capable of handling teams and machinery? If one of them felt like washing dishes or baking bread, she surely wouldn't be offended:

She quickly slipped her men's pants on under her skirt, bundled some bread and cheese into her pockets, and snatched up Andrew as she went out to the corral to bridle the mule. One of these days, they should think seriously about getting a saddle. She led the mule and carried Andrew out to the field to tell Haakan the plan.

"I'm riding to St. Andrew for the laudanum. Kaaren will care for Andrew and make the meals for the day. Would you please tell Thorliff what is happening?" The words came out in a rush, for with the first ones, she could tell he wasn't pleased.

"I told you I could go." He pushed his hat back on his head.

"I know that. But there is so much to be done in the fields, and with only one man-well, I just thought I am the most dispensable one."

"But you don't have a sidesaddle or a saddle of any kind." One of the horses stamped its feet and started to move forward. "Whoa, there." He tugged on the reins. "It's ... it's-"

"Unseemly, I know." Ingeborg heaved a sigh of frustration. "But out here on the prairie some things are more important than what's seemly or not." Her inflection on the word said clearly what she thought of it. "Besides, I have my britches on." She lifted the edge of her skirt to show the hem of the men's pants she wore. "1 will be all right, and with both on, I'll be warmer, too." A brisk breeze had sprung up. While not as warm as it had been, still the prairie would dry quickly because of it.

Andrew began to wriggle on her hip. "Down, Mor, down."

"In a minute. You want to ride on the mule with me?"

A grin turned his cheeks to rosy apples. "Me ride." He reached for the mule's bridle, so close beside him. The mule jerked back.

"I better be going."

"You'll be careful?" The look of concern that creased Haakan's forehead made a warm glow begin in Ingeborg's middle.

"Ja. This old mule can lope all day. We'll be back before dark."

"We'll have lamps in the windows, just in case."

The glow spread. "Here, if you could hand him up to me?"

Haakan took Andrew. Ingeborg turned to belly herself up on the mule.

"Let me help you."

She paused and turned to face him. He offered a hand on one bent knee, Andrew clutched in the other arm. While the baby tipped the man's hat off his head and chortled in glee, the man held her gaze with his.

Frissons of delight raced each other up and down Ingeborg's back. With a swallow and a nod, she placed her foot in his hand and swung aboard the mule, settling her skirts down as far as possible on her legs. When she looked down at him from her fussing, he stared up at her, his eyes blue like bits of the sky above had come down to visit earth.

Her breath caught in her throat. "M-mange takk." The words cracked. The wind lifted his hair, giving her the insane urge to smooth it back. He held the baby up to her, and in the passing, his fingers touched hers, warm, safe, and comforting.

"Hurry home."

She thought of his words as she turned the mule to go. Looking back once, she saw him retrieve his hat and slap the dirt off it on his knee before settling it back in place with both strong hands. "Gidup, Jack." She clapped her legs against the animal's washboard sides. Was that a promise she'd seen in his eyes? Surely he had felt the same when their hands touched?

She shook her head. What was the use? He was leaving in the fall, so she'd best not be mooning over a man about to leave. "Come on, mule." She hugged Andrew to her, and the mule broke into the same ground-covering lope that would take her to St. Andrew and back.

After depositing Andrew in Kaaren's waiting arms, Ingeborg again set off north across the prairie. She let her straw hat fall behind her shoulders on its ribbons and lifted her face to the sun. She had freedom for the day. What a heady thought. There were no meals to cook, no bread to bake, no cows to milk, and although she would probably be back in time for evening chores, no child clung to her skirts. She was free!

The temptation to take her braids down and let the wind blow through her hair shocked her back to sensibility. She shook her head and laughed at herself. One would think she were twelve instead of twenty-eight. Ducks quacked overhead on their northward flight. A meadowlark sang his spring courting song. The rich smell of burgeoning spring on the prairie made her sniff more than once. She gazed ahead at the hurt-your-eyes green of the growing grasses rippling before the wind. "Mange takk, Lord above. What a wondrous thing you have created here." And since there was no one around to remind her that whistling was not proper for women, she pursed her lips and, in the cadence of the cantering mule, whistled "0 God, Our Help in Ages Past" while the words ran through her mind at the same time.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, Ingeborg was wishing she'd brought a flask of water along. She chewed the dry biscuits with a slab of cheese in each and reminded herself to be grateful for the food and to quit wanting more. The brown water that flowed in the Little Salt didn't appeal, so she knew she wasn't too thirsty.

The first thing she asked of Mrs. Mackenzie, the wife of the proprietor of The Mercantile, was a drink of water.

"Of course, of course." She trundled off to the living area behind the store and returned with a cup of cold, fresh water.

"Mange takk," Ingeborg said before draining the cup. "That surely was good."

"I have the coffeepot on. Would you like to take a few minutes and join me in a cup?" The woman with hair the color of a robin's breast, and the same habit of cocking her head to see better as a robin on a worm hunt, smiled and motioned to the door leading to the parlor.

While Ingeborg had enjoyed the ride, the thought of a chair rather than the ridged back of the mule sounded mighty tempting. "Only for a minute. I need to get home before dark." She followed her hostess around the counter and through a curtain into their living quarters. She sank into the indicated chair and leaned back with a sigh. Oh, how good the cushioned seat with a back felt.

"Here we go." The woman returned with a tray that held two steaming coffee cups and a plate of cookies.

Ingeborg raised one of the cups and sniffed, her eyes closing in bliss. "Ah, coffee. The smell alone makes the heart brighten." Taking one of the cookies, she dunked it in the coffee and bit off a hunk. "Now this is perfect." She gazed around the room, comparing it to the dark soddy in spite of herself. Real glass windows on two walls let the sun in, and white wallpaper with blushing peonies trailing in stripes made the heart glad. A braided rug lay in front of each rocker, and another with an orange cat curled on it fronted the round heating stove.

"Such a cheerful home you have made here." She listened in delight to the bonging of a grandfather clock that stood tall by the door to the kitchen. "So long since I've heard a clock. Funny, the things we used to take for granted have so much more value now."

"That is so. Mr. Mackenzie gave me that clock for our anniversary. Fifteen years we been married, ten of them here in St. Andrew."

"You came when the town was nothing but a dream, then?" Ingeborg sipped her coffee. She shouldn't be here enjoying herself when Lars needed the laudanum so desperately. One more minute, she promised herself. That is all I'll take.

"Yes. My husband believed the settlers would come, and when people come, they need a store. He didn't want to homestead, too backbreaking he said." She looked around the room and then back at Ingeborg. "'Sides, he'd been raised in a store, and his daddy gave him a start for this one. I thank the good Lord for bringing people like yourselves to settle here. We will have a fine town here, lessen the railroad passes us by."

"The railroad is coming this far north on the west side of the river?" All thoughts of staying for only one more minute flew out of Ingeborg's head. "I knew they went to Canada on the east side of the river, but will they be coming over here, too?"

"That Mr. Hill, he plans to cover Dakota Territory with railroads. The farmers can ship their crops easy that way. You mark my words, there's big changes coming."

ingeborg set down her cup. "Well, I thank you for the coffee and the information, but I better be on my way. Lars Knutson, my brother-in-law, is suffering from frostbite and the chilblains mighty bad. He and Mr. Bjorklund got caught in that last blizzard on their way home from here."

"Oh, my. We wondered about them when the storm hit. Land sakes, bad frostbite is nothing to joke about." She rose to her feet. "Come, Mrs. Bjorklund, let's get you on your way. What is it you'll be needing today?"

Ingeborg followed the bustling woman back into the store. "I need medicinals for treating his foot. A bottle of laudanum, and ..

Ingeborg stared at the bottle of whiskey Mrs. Mackenzie set on the counter. Should she take that along with the laudanum? Her far always swore by the disinfecting power of liquor in addition to its medicinal properties to help pain. But then, he liked a drop or two on occasion, besides.

Mrs. Mackenzie set the small bottle of laudanum beside it. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Ingeborg looked at the jar with peppermint sticks. "I'll take two of those, both the bottles, and please wrap them well so they won't break in the sack on the way home."

"That I will do. When will you be bringing cheese again?" the woman asked as she wrapped the bottles in several layers of paper. "I swear there must be a line from house to house here. When folks hear there are Bjorklund cheeses in the store, they line up on the porch." She finished her bundling, wrote the list in her book, and smiled across the counter. "You come back soon. It's time we women had a quilting bee, or some such, so we could all get to know each other. Oh-" She slapped her hands on the counter. "1 have something for you." She disappeared through the curtain and returned a minute later. "This here's a slip of the geranium I have growing in my kitchen window. I thought you might enjoy a bit of color, too."

At Ingeborg's "mange-" Mrs. Mackenzie raised a hand. "No, don't say thank-you. That'll put a blight on it. Just pretend you snipped this off yourself." She passed the sack over the counter. "We'll be praying for Mr. Knutson, too. You be careful going home, now."

"Mange takk for the coffee and cookies." Ingeborg smiled and nodded in response to Mrs. Mackenzie's raised hand. "I know. And one day soon I will have a start to give someone else." Ingeborg left the store with the sting of tears behind her eyes. She sniffed as she unlooped the mule's reins from the hitching post. Did she dare mount here?

She looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight, so she led the mule to stand sideways beside the steps. Then she swung aboard and trotted west, out past the church and the few remaining houses. At the end of town, she kicked Jack into a canter and headed home, her treasured sack clutched in front of her so it wouldn't get banged around and break anything.

Cold, stiff, and sure she had sores where she'd sat, Ingeborg swung off the mule as the first stars poked holes in the heavens and winked at the earth below. A warm spot glowed around her heart at the lamp beckoning in the window. Paws yipped beside her, bringing Thorliff through the door to fling his arms around her waist.

"What is this, my son? Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm just glad you are home." He hugged her tighter.

"Did you think I would not come?" She stroked his hair back and tipped his face up to look at her. "I am here and all is well. You take the mule out to the barn and give him a good feeding, all right? No water yet, though."

Thorliff hugged her again. "I will." He grasped the mule's reins and swung up on his back. "Tante Kaaren has supper ready. We already ate." With that he drummed his heels on the mule's ribs and trotted across the field.

Andrew met her at the door and clung to her skirts. Kaaren stood at the stove, already dishing up a plate of food.

"You had a good trip?" She set the plate on the table and reached for Andrew. "You let your mor have some supper, now, den lille guten."

Ingeborg handed her the sack. "I bought some whiskey, too, and there is a treat in there for the boys when Thorliff comes back. How is Lars?"

"Sleeping for now. I gave him enough willow bark tea to drown a cow. Thorliff read to him for a while after the men decided what needs to be done next in the fields."

Ingeborg squashed the instant flair of resentment that again they had decided farm matters without her. "He should sleep real well with some of this." She raised the small brown bottle of laudanum. "You just put a couple of drops in a cup of water. I thought perhaps we could use the whiskey in between times. My mother used it for cleansing wounds. It might help on the open blisters."

"Mange takk, Inge, for going to town like this. I know that is a long ride by wagon, let alone on horseback."

"Horseback might not have been so bad, but that mule has a ridge for a backbone big enough to-" She looked up to see a smile curving Haakan's mouth. The heat rushing up from her neck flamed across her face. "Excuse me, I ... I better wash." Turning to bury her hands in the bowl on the cabinet counter made her wish she could bury her face as well. Anything to cool it off.