Dakota Dawn (13 page)

“Faster, Ma.” Kaaren giggled and swung her legs, her hands gripping the coarse black mane.

Nora wanted to kick the animal into a lope, but the thought of all of them being dumped onto the ground made her more cautious. As they settled into the pace, the horse’s heavy feet thudded across the soil stripped bare by the grasshoppers. New blades of green promised the return of life.

Ahead, Nora could see the tops of denuded willow trees that lined the creek. What should be a spot of green on the horizon stood naked as the rest of the earth.

Where could he be? The creek curved and rambled for many miles. Her questions kept time with her prayers.

“Carl!” The bouncing gait of the horse kept her voice from carrying like it should. She reined him to a stop and, with both hands bracketing her mouth, called again.

A horse whinnied off to their left.

Nora nudged the bay to a trot again. Ears pricked, he lifted his head and whinnied back at a sound he alone could hear.

Looking ahead, Nora spotted the wagon tracks she had been searching for all along. They led over a hump and down into the flat area bordering the creek.

The horse whinnied again, much closer this time. Nora gave her horse his head and he saw the team before she did. His whinny sounded even louder than back up on the plain.

The team stood patiently, still harnessed to the wagon. The larger gray horse snorted and tossed his head. A few fence posts were in the wagon bed.

But where was Carl?

“Hush.” Nora placed her fingers over Kaaren’s mouth and strained to hear any noise. Harnesses jingled; horses snorted; a crow cawed his announcement that someone new had entered his territory.

“Carl!” Her voice cracked as she gave his name two syllables. “Ca-rl.”

“Yes.”

Had she really heard a sound? The horses pricked their ears in the same direction. She called again.

This time the response came stronger.

She nudged her horse forward, skirting the wagon and angling up the creek bed.

“Carl!” This time she knew she was on the right track. She pushed through the willow thicket, protecting their faces with her bent arms.

He lay on the ground, next to a fallen tree. Even from this distance, she could see his blood-soaked leg.

“Go get the wagon!” he cried. Nora struggled between the desire to leap down and make sure he was not bleeding to death and the knowledge that what he ordered was imperative—she had to get the wagon. She turned her horse around and headed back the way they had come.

The patient team pricked their ears and whinnied as soon as they saw the bay.

“Kaaren, I’m going to let you down into the wagon, so be ready.” Nora nudged the horse right next to the rear of the wagon. “Here we go. Now, slide your leg over his neck, that’s right.” She spoke in a gentle voice, calm and patient but inside she was screaming—
hurry! Hurry!
“Good. Now hang onto my hand and just slide down.”

Kaaren landed on the board floor with a thump. “See, Ma.” She grinned up at Nora.

“Ja, good.” Nora clutched Peder in his sling with one hand while she leaned forward and swung one leg behind her. Together, they slid to the ground, as if they had been dismounting like this all their lives. She quickly tied the bay’s reins to the rear of the wagon and ran to untie the team. Still bearing her heavy burden, she climbed up onto the seat and released the brake.

“Kaaren, come up here and sit down.” She pointed to a spot right behind her, still in the wagon bed. As Kaaren, eyes big, stumbled over the posts, Nora settled Peder in her lap.

He squirmed and let out a yowl, clearly unhappy with such rough treatment.

“Good girl.” Nora threw a smile over her shoulder and slapped the reins. “Hup now, boys.” The team jerked the wagon to a start.

Nora eyed the thicket ahead. No time to find a way around it. “Hang on, Kaaren.” She sheltered Peder with her body and forced the team into and through the slapping, tearing branches. She stopped the wagon within inches of Carl.

He lay on the ground, eyes closed, his face chalky white as if all the blood had drained from his body.

“Oh, God, dear God.” Her words ran into a litany, Nora not even aware that she was talking out loud. She lifted Peder in his sling over her head and twisted around to lay him beside Kaaren.

“Take care of baby now.” She nodded and smiled at the little girl like this was some new game. “I’ll get your pa for you.” Nora jumped to the ground and knelt by Carl’s inert body.

“You came,” he said. “I prayed you’d come.”

She could hardly hear his voice, weak as it was. “Ja, my love, we are here. Now you must help me.”

“Don’t . . . worry about . . . bandage.”

She bent closer to hear him.

“Used belt . . . for tourniquet . . . stop bleeding.”

“Yes, Carl. Now, I’m going to pull you up to a sitting position.” She wrapped one arm around his back and grasped his closer arm with her hand. “Now!” She pulled, he pushed.

He bit his lip against the groan.

“Now, put your arm over my shoulders and, together, we lift.”

This time, he could not suppress the groan.

Nora clamped her teeth together. Sweat popped out on her brow from the strain. But, they were standing.

“Lean on me.” This time it was she who groaned as his weight shifted onto her.

Together they took the two steps needed for him to collapse into the bed of the wagon. He pulled himself forward with his arms until his legs were in the wagon, too.

“Pa!” Kaaren had watched all the goings-on with huge eyes. Now, the tears poured out and she threw herself against his chest.

Nora climbed up into the wagon bed. After making sure Carl was secure, she hefted the squalling Peder in his sling and hauled it back over her head and shoulder. Then, she climbed over the back of the seat, sat down, and slapped the team into motion.

The ride to town lasted an eternity of dust, crying children, jouncing, tears, and Carl’s fading in and out. When she finally drove down the main street of Soldahl, she had no idea how to find Dr. Harmon. For what seemed like the past 400 miles, she had been praying he would just be there.

“Can you tell me where Dr. Harmon lives?” she yelled to the first person she saw.

The man trotted up to the wagon and peered in. “Oh, heavens. Here, I’ll show you.” He leaped onto the seat. “Turn right, there, by the blacksmith.” He pointed ahead of them. “What happened to him?” He spoke softly so Carl would not hear.

Nora was not sure if Carl was conscious or not. He had not said anything for the last—forever. “He was out at the creek, cutting fence posts. The ax slipped.”

“Turn left, here. That’s Doc’s house and office with the light in the window. I’ll help carry your man in.” He leaped to the ground before the team came to a full halt. “Harmon!” His yell could be heard clear to Fargo.

A graying man in his shirtsleeves threw open the door. “What’d ya need?”

“Something to carry this man in on. Leg’s cut bad.”

While the doctor pulled his head back in, Nora climbed back over the seat and laid Peder on the wagon floor. “You care for Peder.” She took Kaaren by the hand and sat her beside the baby.

She knelt by Carl’s head and put her hand on his chest. Yes, he was still breathing.
Oh, dear Lord. If we’ve ever needed You, we need You now.

“All right, ma’am, we’ll take him now.” Doctor Harmon slid the poles of a stretcher in beside his patient. “Carl!” He turned to look at Nora. “What did he do?”

All the while he was talking, he and the other man lifted Carl onto the stretcher, slid it to the rear of the wagon, and, with one man at each end, lifted the heavy burden. Together, they carried their load up the steps and into the doctor’s office.

Nora climbed down and, grabbing Kaaren and Peder, followed the stretcher carriers. She stood in the doorway as they lifted Carl onto a flat, well-padded wooden table.

“Pa, Pa.” Kaaren sniffled and cried, hiding her face in Nora’s filthy skirt. Peder, worn-out from all the crying, only whimpered now and then.

“Will he . . . can you—?” The words stuck in Nora’s throat. She wanted to throw herself across Carl’s chest and howl out her terror, her love, her prayers. She lifted Peder higher in her arms and buried her face in his sling.

“He’s alive.” Doctor Harmon looked up only long enough to make eye contact with her. “That’s all I can say right now.”

“Now, dear.” A woman’s voice came from behind her. “I’m Mrs. Harmon. Why don’t you come with me for now? There’s nothing you can do here. The doctor will do the best he can.”

Nora turned. Lifting her feet to follow the roundly padded woman with the kind voice took all her strength.

“Let me get you a cup of coffee and maybe your little girl would like a glass of milk and a cookie?”

Nora pulled herself back to the moment. “Please, show me the way to Reverend Moen’s. Ingeborg will care for my . . . for Kaaren and Peder. Then I will come back.”

“If that is what you want. But you are welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Harmon gave instructions while she walked Nora back out to the wagon. She handed Kaaren to her after Nora had climbed up to the seat. “I’ll see you in awhile then?”

Nora nodded. “Thank you.” She flicked the reins and the horses broke into a trot.

With a small town like Soldahl, the directions were not too complex and she found the parsonage without any trouble. Light beamed from the windows on the ground floor, welcoming her back.

Nora slumped against the board that formed the seat back. Now that Carl was someone else’s responsibility, she felt limp, drained of every thread of strength and will. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. When had she begun to cry? When had she not been crying?

She stared at the walk from the fence and up the steps to the front door. Could she make it? Would her knees support her?

“God, please.” She leaned forward and wrapped the reins around the pole. “You can climb down by yourself, Kaaren. Mary lives here.” She pulled herself to her feet. With Peder in one arm, she used the other to brace herself and swung her leg over the wagon side. She stumbled as she landed and the jerk made Peder cry again.

The door opened. Light poured down the walk. “Is anyone— oh no,” Reverend Moen’s voice deepened. “Nora, what has happened to you? Ingeborg, come quick.” As he spoke, he leaped from the steps and wrapped his arm around Nora’s shoulders. Ingeborg appeared before her and lifted the whimpering Peder in his sling over Nora’s head.

Nora swayed from the lightness of releasing one of her burdens, but John steadied her. They led her inside and sat her in the rocking chair.

“Now, tell me. What has happened?” Ingeborg placed a cup of coffee in Nora’s hands and closed the trembling fingers around the warmth. “Drink first.”

“Peder. He hasn’t been fed for hours.”

“Mary, please fix a bottle. John, could you please take the mite in and change him?”

Nora could feel Kaaren attached to her knee.

“Pa’s hurt. His leg is bleeding bad.”

“He cut himself with an ax cutting down fence posts in the creek bottom. We brought him to Dr. Harmon’s.” Nora raised her gaze to encounter the sympathy flowing from the face of her friend. “Oh, Ingeborg, he might die. So much blood lost.”

“Drink your coffee. John will take you back over there as soon as you have the strength. The children will be just fine here with us.”

Her soothing voice and loving hands brought a measure of peace back to Nora. And with it, the strength to pull herself to her feet.

“Mange takk.”
Nora then went back to the doctor’s house and Reverend Moen went with her.

“The doctor is still working with him,” Mrs. Harmon said when she met Reverend Moen and Nora at the door. “Why don’t you come right in here and have a seat?”

Nora followed her into the parlor and sat down on the chair nearest the door.

“I’ll get you each a cup of coffee.” Mrs. Harmon bustled out.

“If you don’t mind,” Reverend Moen leaned over her. “I pray best on my feet and pacing. Will that bother you?”

Nora shook her head. “We need all the prayers we can get.”

Several cups of coffee later, Dr. Harmon entered the room. “I’ve done what I can and I’m sorry to tell you, it don’t look good. He’s lost a lotta blood. All’s I can say is he’s in the good Lord’s hands now.”

“Can I see him?” asked Nora.

“If’n ya want. He’s unconscious. Won’t know you’re there.”

“No matter. I want to be with him.”

“Just remember, he looks bad.” He looked her over. “ ‘Pears to me you don’t look so good yerself. I have an idea. You spend some time with that man of yours and Mrs. Harmon’ll heat some water so’s you can get cleaned up.” He opened the door to a room with a bed. “Here he is.”

Nora looked at the white face on the pillow. She stumbled, clamping her teeth against the whirling in her head.

“Grab her.” She heard the voice from a great distance.

Arms helped her into a chair and a hand forced her head between her knees. “Easy, now. Just stay that way until the spell passes.”

Nora took a deep breath. Her head cleared. Her stomach retreated back to its rightful position.

When she raised her head, she picked up Carl’s hand that lay on top of the blankets. She studied his face, every dear line, all the while stroking his hand.

“If we can keep the infection from setting in, every hour he makes it is for the best.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Nora followed Mrs. Harmon’s instructions. Get cleaned up, eat, drink, go back to Carl. There was never any change but she felt needed there.

“We have to keep him drinking, so spoon water into his mouth every fifteen minutes or so.” The doctor showed her how. With panic trapped in her throat, she watched until she saw Carl swallow. “That’s good.” Doctor Harmon left her with a spoon and pitcher of water.

Grateful for something to do, Nora followed orders. Sometime in the wee hours, loving hands covered her with a light blanket. Every time she nodded off, she would wake on the minute to administer the water. With every spoonful, she reminded Carl that she loved him, her words soft and gentle.

People came and went through the next day. At one point, Dr. Harmon sent Nora off to bed, where she slept for several hours before appearing at the door again to resume her post.

In the early morning, Nora had heard the clock strike three o’clock. She jerked fully awake. What was different? Carl? She clasped his hand. Ears straining, she listened to his breathing. Was it slower? Did it hesitate?

“Carl!”

She listened again. A breath . . . a pause . . . a breath. Each slower and fainter.

“Carl! You hear me? Listen to me! You can’t die. We need you here. I love you, Carl Detschman!” She gripped his hand. “Don’t you die on me!”

She held her breath.
Carl, breathe. God, please, make him breathe.
She waited. The moment stretched to eternity—and back. Carl took a breath and let it out. And another. And another. Nora wept.

An hour later, when the doctor came to relieve her, he nodded as she told her story. “Right about this time, the body is at its lowest. Lose patients mostly right about now.” He clasped Carl’s wrist between his thumb and forefinger. “Pulse is stronger.” He applied the stethoscope to the man’s chest. “Breathing better, too. I’d say he’s past the crisis.” He stood straight again. “Will you go to bed now?”

Nora shook her head.

“Thought not. I don’t want to be doctoring you, too.”

About noon, Carl regained consciousness. Nora watched his eyelids flutter. She placed the back of her fingers against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered again and this time he looked at her.

“Ah, Nora, love.” A whisper so faint that if she had not been bending close, she might have missed it. His eyes closed again. One corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly.

After that, each time he woke he was stronger. Each time he called her “love.”

The next day, he raised a hand to stroke her cheek, to brush away an errant tear. “Crying?”

“Tears of joy.” She turned her face and kissed the palm of his hand.

That afternoon, Carl drank the good beef broth that Nora spooned into his mouth. When they were finished, he smiled at her. “I have something to tell you.”

“Ja?” She leaned on her elbows beside him on the bed.