RR05 - Tender Mercies (15 page)

“No, but he’s so little, he’s still wearing a dress. Come on.”

Ingeborg smiled to herself. She knew the children were safe with Anji and Manda watching them, even though Astrid had gotten away from them. But then, Astrid got away from her lots of times too. One minute she was there and the next one
poof
! Just like dandelion fluff in the breeze. Andrew had been much the same. Only the good graces of Metiz’ Wolf had kept him from being lost forever in the tall prairie grass. She shuddered at the memory. At least that was one problem they no longer feared. All the grass within a mile of the homestead was grazed short or the land planted in grain. No more buffalo grass taller than a big man’s head, let alone that of a young child.

“What’s wrong?” Kaaren asked, her hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder as she poured more coffee.

“Just remembering. Sometimes it is good to think of the past and see God’s hand upon us, saving us and guiding us. Things could have been so much worse. I couldn’t have said that at the time, but now I can.”

“Ja,” Agnes agreed, “those first years.” She shook her head. “Uff da, what we went through.” She heaved herself to her feet. “I better go check on that kettle of klubb out on the fire.” She waited a moment for her back to straighten. “You’d think I was an old lady or something.”

Ingeborg’s gaze followed her friend out the door.
She does look older. Never been right since that last baby. Lord, is there something I can do for her? If so, please let me know
. The two of them had many things in common, but one that broke both their hearts—no more babies. Agnes had lost hers stillborn, and Ingeborg miscarried after the plow accident, but the results were the same. Barrenness.

She looked up to see Metiz studying her from across the table. “What?”

Metiz shook her head. “Nothing to do.” Her shrug barely lifted her shoulders, but it said all she believed. If there was something wrong with Agnes, Metiz had nothing in her bag of simples that would help. The thought of that made Ingeborg sigh. If she and Metiz both saw it, something was indeed wrong. But what?

Kaaren went off to put the twins and Trygve down for a nap while Ingeborg did the same with Astrid. Then, since infant Samuel had begun to whimper, Kaaren sat down in the rocker to nurse him. With the youngsters sleeping, the older girls, led by Katy, attacked the dishes so the others could go out and keep on with the butchering. Hides were salted and rolled to be tanned and used for shoe leather, harness repairs, and anything else that needed tough leather.

Everyone headed home with fresh liver, heart, and kidneys if they wanted them. The feet would be pickled, the loops of sausage smoked, and the sausage patties set in lard-covered crocks. Once the carcasses hung a few days, they would be cut up with the haunches and side meat set in brine to smoke later.

Pastor Solberg carried his basket on his lap as the Baards gave him a ride home. He would have his klubb for breakfast as he’d wished.

“I appreciate the ride,” he said to Joseph, the two of them sitting on the wagon seat. The rest of the family took up much of the wagon bed. They could hear Swen and Knute arguing at the back of the wagon, their feet hanging over the tailgate.

“You two stop that.” Anji took her position as eldest girl very seriously. Her brothers swung the other way. Not much in life wasn’t fodder for a good joke or laugh.

“Anji, leave them alone. They aren’t bothering anyone.” Agnes spoke gently, softly so as not to wake the little ones.

Solberg had to smile. His sister had treated him the same way.

“You goin’ to the great debate next Saturday?” Joseph asked.

“I have the privilege of introducing the two gentlemen. You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I got me some questions I want answered.”

“You and all the rest of us.” Pastor Solberg set his basket down on the floorboards and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Once Dakota Territory becomes a state . . .”

“Or two.” Joseph hawked and spit over the wagon wheel. “I’m all for two states, meself.”

“I’m not sure yet. That’s one of the things I hope Muir and that politician—I keep forgetting his name—clear up. I know Haakan and Lars want to discuss the railroad and flour mills setting prices for both wheat and shipping. You given any thought to joining the Farmer’s Alliance that Muir is so enthusiastic about?”

“Ja, in my mind that’s the way to go. Like we done here in Blessing. You could call us a giant co-op the way we all work together, got our own train stop, sack house, and all. Pretty soon we’ll have to build us an elevator, mark my words. And here we know that no one is cheating us. Sure a lot different than what I hear about other places.”

“No doubt.” Pastor sighed. “Progress is going to catch us whether we want it to or not. I just hope . . .”

Joseph waited before asking, “Hope what?”

“I wish I knew, Joseph, I wish I knew.”
So much change so fast. Is it just me, or are the others also concerned?

Chapter 12

“Ah, Goodie, could we talk for a moment before services?”

“I think not, you . . . you selfish hussy.” Goodie Wold spun on her heel and stalked up the stairs to the open church door.

Penny felt as if she’d just been stabbed in the belly. She could hardly catch her breath for wanting to check and see if she was bleeding. To be called a name like that right here and for no reason. At least none that she knew of.

“Are you all right?” Hjelmer caught up with her and took her elbow, motioning toward the church door. “We need to go in.”

“I . . . I don’t think I can . . . yet.”

“Penny, we are going to be late.” Now he increased the pressure on her arm and took two steps toward the door.

She allowed him to lead her up the steps and into the vestibule, where Ingeborg and Haakan were greeting people.

“Penny, are you all right?” Ingeborg skipped right over the how-do-you-do’s. She took Penny’s hand and smothered it with her own.

“No, I—ah, yes.” She looked around the shallow room. Goodie must have already gone into the sanctuary.

“Hjelmer, what has happened?”

“Nothing, ah . . .” He leaned close and whispered, “We’ll tell you later.” Then he gently pushed Penny before him through the wide doorway. They took seats in the back row.

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” she demanded.

Hjelmer shook his head. “You can’t do anything about it now, so just sit back and take part in the service.” He kept his voice low, but still the Johnsons in front of them turned to see what was the matter.

Penny slumped against the bench back.
I should have gone over to her house again when I thought about it. Now this. What’s the matter with Goodie? Is all this over the sewing machines, or is it something else? What have I done that could have upset her so much?
She wracked her brain through the opening hymn and could think of nothing. She searched the room, locating Olaf and his family in the third row on the far side. Was Goodie sitting rigid with anger, or did she usually sit that way?

The words of the Scripture for the day rolled right on by her.

When Pastor Solberg announced the political debate coming up, she nodded but went right back to searching her words and actions. Thoughts buzzed like angry bees but going nowhere.

She looked around again, this time for Agnes. If only she could talk with her. No one could calm her down like her aunt. She was three rows in front of them. No way to get a message to her.

Hjelmer took her hand and covered it with his other. Knowing his reticence about showing affection in public, she leaned her head against his shoulder for only a minute but clung to the warmth of his hands.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God.”

The words flashed into her crazy maelstrom of thoughts.
But I thought I was. I did. I do
. She forced herself to pay attention. Would love be angry at a cut like that? She shook her head.
But I’m more hurt than angry. She’s the angry one. Why?

The real question is what do I do now?

Tante Agnes would say pray, then go.
Go all right. I’ll go on home and never speak to her again unless she comes and begs me!
She knew Agnes would mean go to Goodie, but Penny refused to entertain that thought at the moment.

“The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His countenance to shine upon thee and give thee His peace. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

When they all stood to sing the closing hymn, Penny slipped past the couple next to her and out the door.

Shaking hands and talking with people at the door, Pastor Solberg asked, “What happened to Penny?”

“She left,” Hjelmer answered. His jaw was squared as though he had more to say but wouldn’t.

“Is she all right?”

“We’ll see.” Hjelmer shook the pastor’s hand and headed for home.

“What’s going on there?” Ingeborg asked, coming right behind Hjelmer. “Did he say anything?”

Solberg shook his head. “Strange.” He continued greeting his flock, shaking hands with the adults and patting the children on the head. Some of the older children sneaked by, anxious to get outside before they exploded. “Good morning to you, too, Swen, Thorliff, and Knute.”

The boys waved and ran off laughing.

With each couple he said a few things, but all the time he could feel himself waiting. Waiting for Mary Martha to come out with Zeb and Katy. A group of girls gathered in one corner of the vestibule, giggling now that they were free of their parents.

But Manda stayed with her family, almost smiling at the pastor as he greeted her. “How are your horses doing? I heard good things about how you train them.”

“Fine.”

“They follow Manda around like she gots a rope on them all the time, but she don’t.” Deborah filled in the gap only to get a dirty look from her older sister. “Well, it’s true.”

He could feel her looking at him.

Katy laid a hand on Manda’s shoulder and shook her head. “If only she worked as hard on her lessons, right?”

While he nodded, he looked up to see Mary Martha’s green eyes twinkling like sun kisses on an emerald pond. “Good morning,” he greeted her.

“And to you. That was a fine sermon. We all need reminding of His love—often.”

“Mange takk.”

“Velbekomme.”

“And here I thought she was teaching English, not learning Norwegian.” Zeb shook his head as he shook the pastor’s hand.

“And you, my friend?” The arched eyebrow reminded Zeb of his hours in English class so he could pick up some Norwegian to be able to talk with Katy more easily. “Seems to run in the family.”

Zeb and Katy looked at each other and laughed as they followed others down the stairs.

Pastor Solberg could feel himself smiling all over as he turned to the next family. Although it took effort, he kept from turning to see what Mary Martha was laughing about as they visited with other friends.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wold, good to see you.” As he shook their hands, he glanced from Goodie to Olaf. Something was wrong here too. Goodie’s usual smile had gone into hiding, and her squared jaw made her appear almost formidable. Standing slightly behind her, Olaf gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. While Hans had gone to play with the boys, Ellie clung to her mother’s skirts. That wasn’t like her either. Generally she and Andrew fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

When Solberg leaned down to greet her, she whispered in his ear, “My ma’s been crying.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he whispered back. “You be a good girl, and that might help her.” Ellie nodded, her face so serious that Solberg wanted to hold her close. Instead he shook her hand and patted her on the head.

How can I help all of you if I don’t know what is happening?
He let them go, wishing he could do something. He had a feeling there was a connection between Penny leaving so abruptly and Goodie fighting tears. Leave it to the children to be so honest.

Ellie’s sober little face accompanied him home as he went to change clothes before heading to the Johnsons’ for dinner. They’d invited him a couple of weeks ago. He wished he were going to the Hjelmer Bjorklunds’ or the Wolds’ instead. He was sure no one else knew of the problem, because someone would have told him. Maybe he should send Ingeborg over there. Or Kaaren.

“Ah, that is what I will do.” He stripped off his clerical collar and white shirt, hanging them carefully on a wall peg, along with his black suit. He kept the suit and shirt for Sundays, weddings, and funerals, knowing that with his meager funds, replacing them wouldn’t be easy.

He whistled for the horse he pastured out behind the parsonage, and within minutes he was saddled and bridled and on his way to see Kaaren and Lars. Frost still coated the grass in the shady places and the north sides of the fence posts. While the sun shone, the wind promised an even colder night.

“Winter’s on the way, that’s for sure.” He patted the horse’s neck as the animal snorted an answer. “The coat you’re wearing promises a mean one, eh?” Another snort. John nudged him into a canter. No sense being late for the meal. That wasn’t polite. “But, Father, while I don’t know what is going on, I know that you do. Please speak to each person and remind them that your Word says to go to the other party, no matter who or what is right or wrong. Tell them to make it up. Friends are far more important than whatever got in the way.”

The horse nickered as they trotted past the Haakan Bjorklund house and on to the next. Paws accompanied them partway, announcing their arrival before turning for home. Pastor Solberg swung off his horse at the gate to the fenced-in yard and tied him to one of the posts. The roses had already been trimmed back and covered with straw for the winter, as had the other flower beds. Manure and straw from the barn banked the base of the house. Lars was a strong believer in being prepared, fixing things before they broke, and minding his own business.

John hoped the latter wouldn’t be a problem in this case. He needed Kaaren’s gentle wisdom. He knocked on the door, grateful to hear children’s laughter inside. They could have all been over at Ingeborg’s.