A Promise for Ellie (14 page)

“No, just trying to protect you from painful blisters. Unlike the way you trained Andrew and me at the smithy those years ago.” While Hjelmer rarely ran his own blacksmith shop any longer, he had taught many of the boys, both local and from the deaf school, a few rudimentary smithing skills. Setting the rim of a wheel took more wood chopping than anything else in order to get a blaze going around the entire wheel. All of them had learned to make links for a chain. Andrew still had the six-foot chain he’d made, but now Sam and his son, Lemuel, set most of the wheels, and it was easy to buy any length of chain from the Sears and Roebuck catalog.

“All right, let’s get started.” Haakan pointed to Lars. “You take your crew and start on the south wall, and we’ll do the north.”

“Surely we have a bit of a wager as to who finishes first,” Knute Baard, of Lars’s group, said, one eyebrow raised, nodding to his team.

Haakan and Lars grinned at each other.

“Winners eat first.”

The two leaders shook hands, and everyone fell to work, each taking the job he did best, be it measuring, cutting, drilling holes for the pegs on the beams, or nailing.

“You think we carved enough pegs?” Andrew asked.

“We’ll soon find out.” Haakan slapped his son on the shoulder. “Gus Baard brought a sackful with him. We’ll just peg the beams and joists. The walls will be nailed. Go see how the boys are doing with the shingles.”

Andrew nodded and headed over to the pile of butts, where four younger boys, Samuel at almost thirteen being the oldest, each sat with a froe and mallet, splitting the shingles off the butt. Each also had a frame to lay the shingles on so the bundles could be tied to be hoisted to the barn roof.

“I’ll pay a quarter to the one who has the most bundles at the end of the day.”

“No fair. Samuel is bigger,” one of the boys complained.

“Bigger has nothing to do with speed. I used to out split Thorliff all the time.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t take time for daydreaming.” Andrew grinned at the boys’ laughter and headed back to help with his wall. At 11:30 their shout of victory brought a groan from the other team. With all of the men working together, some lifting, some pulling, others setting braces, the wall rose upright and was nailed into place. Fifteen minutes later the second wall went up.

“Dinner’s ready.” Ingeborg rang the triangle she’d brought from the house, and as soon as the men washed, they took their places on the benches lining the tables the women had set up, covered with tablecloths and food of all kinds: fried chicken, fried pork chops, baked ham, a venison haunch, canned vegetables, pickles, fresh bread, and cheese. As soon as Pastor Solberg said grace, they took their seats and fell to the feast.

“It’s your own fault if you go away hungry,” Ingeborg said as she carried the coffeepot around, filling cups and laughing with her neighbors.

“You got any cream?” Hjelmer asked.

“Cream in your coffee? Those fancy politicians turning you into a dandy?”

“Try it. You might like it,” Hjelmer called back. “Besides, I always took cream in my coffee. Used to drive Mor crazy.”

Andrew glanced up at his mother. Her smile and hand on his shoulder had always been a sure part of his life.

“Congratulations.”

“For what?”

“Your wall went up first.”

“Thanks to Far. He drives a nail faster than anyone I know. Three strikes at the most.” He thought to how many he’d bent and had to straighten before pounding in again. Wasting a nail or leaving it bent over was not even a consideration.

“You’re getting your stride.” Haakan held his cup for his wife to fill. “How come you’re pouring? I thought that was the job for the girls, so they could flirt with the young fellas.”

“If you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many young fellas around these parts. Young fellas not spoken for, that is.”

She’s right,
Andrew thought. Most of the young men in town were married, like he should be soon.
Ah, if only Ellie were here
. But her last letter said she would be delayed almost a week beyond her intended arrival because the ladies at her church wanted to throw her a party. She put off returning to him for a party! He’d wanted to get on the train and go fetch her but he knew it was useless. She also felt she needed to stay a few more days to help her mother. All the while he ate, he paid more attention to what was going on in his head than to the discussions ranging around him. Her mother and a party were more important than being with him—one more thing on the growing list of irritants.

Someone had asked Hjelmer when the government was going to do something about the graft going on at the grain elevators, and he was trying to come up with some acceptable answers. Hjelmer always had been a smooth talker. “I’ll be going to Minneapolis myself to see if we can convince the mill owners to pay our farmers more for their wheat.”

“Remind them, no wheat no flour. We could ship to Valley City if we choose.”

“You know, maybe we should start a mill of our own.”

“With what? They got the waterfalls for power in Minneapolis. Our river here don’t move fast enough to turn nothing.” Gus Baard surprised them all with his comment.

“Steam engines could do it. We could use that coal from down south to power it.”

“Hey, Pastor, you ever heard anything about who that was got burned up in the fire at Olsons’?”

Solberg shook his head. “I sent letters to most of the large newspapers, but we’ve heard nothing. But it’s been less than a month.”

“Coulda been an Indian off the reservation. Coulda got drunk and crawled into that shed to sleep it off before going back home.”

“Question is, how’d the fire get started?”

“You got any good ideas, don’t go keeping them to yourself.”

“Could be he was smoking and set himself afire.”

“Went up mighty fast.”

Andrew finished eating and swung his leg over the bench.

“Where you going?” Haakan asked.

“Over to check on that sow. She looked mighty close this morning.”

“Don’t you want dessert?” his mother asked.

“Later.” He untied one of the horses from the wagon and swung aboard. This would be the first litter for his own gilt, and he wanted to be there to make sure she was all right.

When he got to the barn, he slid off and tied the horse before stepping into the dim interior. One of the barn cats twined around his boots, meowing her suggestion that even though it wasn’t milking time, if he wanted to feed her, she wouldn’t be averse.

He pushed her out of the way and headed for the farrowing stall.

Glancing over the half stall door, he paused and crossed his arms on the doorframe.
Well, I’ll be . . .
“How is she?”

Astrid looked up from putting a baby pig under the crossbar in the corner.

“Eight so far, all nursed. You think she’ll have more?”

“Hope so. Thank you.”

He watched as the sow lay flat out on her side, flapping her ear to chase a fly. Another baby slipped out onto the straw, wiggling immediately to free itself from the membrane, followed by another.

“Two more.” Astrid smiled up at him. “She has teats for twelve.”

“Just like her mother.”

“You can go back and work on your barn. I’ll stay here. I don’t mind.” She guided one of the babies around the sow’s back feet and up to a teat. The baby nosed around until it got a hold and settled in to nurse.

“They sure are smart, aren’t they?” She smiled up at her brother again. “Almost as smart as little Inga. She knows who I am already.”

Andrew almost said
I doubt it
but caught the words before they came out. Why be nasty to Astrid when she was being so good to him? He leaned over and tugged gently on her braid. “Mange takk, little sister. I’m heading back.”

“If she has thirteen, can I keep the runt?”

“Why not, but see if you can get it a good nursing first. It’ll have a better chance that way.” He stopped at the cattle trough and cupped his hand under the spigot from the pump to get a drink before mounting the horse and loping back across the fields to where they had the back wall nearly ready to raise.

“How many?” Haakan called.

“Ten. Astrid is with her.”

“Good.”

Andrew turned at a familiar laugh, one that always set his teeth on edge. Sure enough, the two Valders brothers had arrived while he was gone. Gerald was fine, but Toby could well have stayed home. Andrew looked up to see his pa watching him. He shrugged and grabbed the hammer he’d left in his toolbox.

“Where do you want me?” Toby asked.

“We’ll start on the front wall. There’s enough help on the back one to get that raised.”

I don’t want him working on my barn. Don’t be stupid. Toby’s as good
with hammer and saw as anyone. Why would he come? At least he wasn’t
here for dinner. Andrew Bjorklund, don’t be a fool
. His thoughts raged, even as he tried to drive them out with every blow of the hammer.

By the time everyone headed home to do their own chores, the four walls were in place and braced, and half of the rafters were ready to raise. Andrew had hewn his own beam from a cottonwood tree that had been curing for several years. Andrew made it a point to shake the hand of every man who had helped him.

“
Tusin takk
. Mange takk.” He could not say the words often enough. When he reached to shake Toby’s hand, the man hesitated slightly, then gripped his hand and nodded, never looking him in the eye. He turned and left, striding ahead of his brother, who shook Andrew’s hand next, looked after Toby, and shook his head.

“I didn’t think he’d come with me. Sorry we couldn’t get here earlier.”

“That’s all right. I appreciate your help.” Andrew smiled at Gerald, who never had regained his strength since his time with Teddy Roosevelt’s Roughriders in the Spanish American War. He looked closer to middle age than the young man he was. A gray tinge around his eyes made him look as if he’d forgotten how to sleep.

“You’ll have a fine barn. Shame your house hasn’t come yet.”

“They said soon.”
I should have gone ahead and just framed it myself.
Sometimes trying to save time only brings more frustration
.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“After church.”

Gerald nodded and headed out.

The last to leave, Andrew stopped a moment and studied his barn.
My own barn. My land. Ah, if only Ellie were here, all would be
perfect
.

On the way back to the house from milking, he leaned against the wind that had come up. Was the barn frame braced securely enough to withstand a storm? Dark roiling clouds hid the last color in the west and piled high into the heavens, as if seeking to obliterate the moon.

“There’s nothing more we can do. We braced it as strong as possible.” Haakan pointed to the table. “Sit down, let’s eat. It’s all in God’s hands.”

While Andrew had never wanted to be called a whiner, right now he felt like screaming. Would nothing go right? No house, no wife. What had he done to deserve all this?

Haakan bowed his head. “Let us pray.” But instead of the normal Norwegian prayer, he said, “Father in heaven, tonight we pray for the protection of Andrew’s barn. Keep it strong and upright against the storm just as you stand in front of us during life’s storms. You are our shield and protector, and we thank you for that. Help us always to trust in you. Now we thank you for the food we have, the roof over our heads, and all the blessings you have heaped upon us. In Jesus’ precious name we pray. Amen.”

Lord, I want to believe. I really do
. Andrew reached for the platter of corn bread in front of him. What if the barn fell down? What if Ellie never came back? So many what ifs.

“P
ERHAPS YOU BETTER STAY HOME
from church.” Haakan stared at his wife, who looked as white as the sheet on which she lay.

“No. I will be fine.” She knew she sounded less than gracious, but how long could one bleed like this? She’d been so long without a monthly that she thought she was finished with all that mess, and now here she lay. Was the flow any less when she was lying down? She thought not. But then, when had she ever been like this?

The flow had started when she got back to the house after serving dinner at the barn raising. And had not stopped. “Uff da.” She glared up at her husband. “Just go on about your chores. I will be fine.”

“Astrid can make the breakfast. I’ve already called her.”

“Haakan, I tell you, it is nothing. Now go about your chores, and I will go about mine.” Ignoring the gush she felt, she swung her feet to the floor and waited until he left the room. The rigid set of his shoulders told her she’d irritated him. After all, he was only trying to make things easier for her. One more strike against her. Guilt clamped frigid fingers around her heart. If she’d said what she really thought . . . A good thing she’d been able to keep some control of her tongue. Lately words just came out, something like the issue that was causing the problem. She checked. There was less flow than it felt like. Surely it was letting up. Right now she really understood the feeling of the woman in the Scriptures who’d been bleeding for twelve years. How did she ever manage? After changing the folded cloths, she set them to soak in cool water and made her way into the kitchen, braiding her hair as she went. At least, unlike the woman in the Bible, she was not an outcast.