The Reaper's Song (20 page)

M
ark my words, he’s smitten.”

“Agnes Baard, whoever are you talking about?” Ingeborg gazed at her friend, letting her eyebrows continue the question.

“Reverend Solberg, that’s who. He took one look at your Katy, and—”

“In the first place, she isn’t my Katy and—”

“In the second place, when he met her, he looked like someone had hit him on the head with a beam. He’s been needing a wife. This will sure put a stop to some matchmaking mamas.”

“Ja, well, she is pretty enough to steal any man’s heart, but she’s still a child and—”

“Oh, she’ll grow up soon enough when she has little ones to look after.” Agnes eased her swollen feet up on a box that now held empty kettles to take home again. “Uff da.”

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Ingeborg motioned to the painful-looking feet.

“Look who’s talking. And don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?” Penny sat down on the blanket beside Ingeborg. She leaned over and tickled Astrid’s tummy. “How’s the best little girl in all the world?”

Astrid smiled at her, reaching up with both arms.

“Babies like you,” Ingeborg said with a smile. “Of course, everyone likes you, so that is not surprising.”

“Not everyone.” She glared over to where Anner Valders was sawing boards for the siding on the new house. Different men had different tasks in this house-raising, and Anner usually ended up with a saw in hand because he measured and cut so precisely.

“It’s not you he has a problem with.” Agnes fanned herself with
her apron. “Uff da! It is hot today. Even here in the shade.”

The sack house cast a shady spot for little ones taking naps and for adults taking breathers. Several younger children lay sprawled on the quilts, and Agnes had volunteered to watch the sleepers while most of the women had disappeared back to the church to stitch on the quilt.

“His problem might not be with me, but anyone gets mean about my husband, and I’m like a she-wolf protecting her cubs.” Penny picked up Astrid and held her in the air above her head. She jiggled the child, and Astrid grinned, her round face lighting up as if reflecting the sun. She waved her arms and pumped her legs as though she couldn’t wait to get going. “You know, child, you’re just about too big for me to lift like this.” Penny lowered Astrid to her lap.

“If you’re like that with your husband, what will you be like with children?”

A cloud passed over Penny’s bright smile, but after a sigh, she said, “Anyone bothers my children, they better watch out. If I ever get to have any, that is.”

“Penny Bjorklund, you’ve been married only . . . let’s see.” Agnes closed her eyes to count the months. “End of May to June, July, August. Only three months and you are already fussing about no baby on the way?”

Penny laid Astrid back on the quilt and tickled the child’s bare feet. “Sorry, Tante Agnes, I know how you—”

“No, child, you don’t know how I feel. And I hope to God you never do. Losing a baby early on is real hard, but to have one stillborn, that’s even harder. She was so perfect, like a rose that never fully opened. And if that weren’t enough, I guess the good Lord thinks I’m too old for raising more of His children.”

Penny rocked back and clasped her skirted knees with her hands. “You’re not old. You’re just not all better yet.”

Ingeborg listened to the two. Agnes had never regained her robust health, and she tired easily. Before this last baby, she’d have been the last one sitting here minding the youngsters. Her needle would have been flashing as fast as her tongue over there in the church, hustling everyone to hurry and finish the stitching. She’d have kept them laughing at the same time.

Not like this pensive woman beside her, with swollen feet and eyes that no longer twinkled with laughter at the slightest provocation.

Ingeborg kept her own joyful news to herself, although Metiz
had already figured it out and Goodie wore that knowing look when Ingeborg returned from rush trips to the outhouse, so that the others wouldn’t know yet.

“But, near as I can tell, He’s sending one to Ingeborg here. You told Haakan yet?”

“What?” Ingeborg jerked herself back to the conversation. “Agnes, you old . . . how did you know?”

“You have that breeding look about you. Not hard to recognize if’n you know what to look for. I was waiting for you to say something.”

Ingeborg turned a heavy-eyed Astrid on her tummy. “I know how sad you’ve been, and I didn’t want to make you feel sadder.”

“Ah, Ingeborg, friends share both the joys and sorrows, as you well know. Your good news would never make me sad, just glad for you and ready to pray a healthy baby into this world of ours.”

“Mange takk, as always. I should have known you would feel that way.” Ingeborg reached over and patted Agnes’s hand. “Thank you, I’ve already been praying for this little soul. I want a son for Haakan’s sake.”

“I got me a feeling that you are more concerned about a son than Haakan. ’Pears to me he figures Thorliff and Andrew are his every bit as much as that little angel there. Bjorklund blue eyes is Bjorklund blue eyes, no matter who the pa. I bet you that if you put all the Bjorklund cousins together, even the family couldn’t tell who belonged to who, let alone strangers.”

“Now wouldn’t that be something, a gathering of Bjorklunds.”

“Well, look at Hamre. He could be a big brother to Thorliff and Andrew, and no one would know the difference.”

“Ja, other than that scowl on his face. I thought he wanted to come to the new country.”

“You asked Bridget yet?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “She’s so busy over there with the ladies, I can’t get a question in edgewise. Besides, we stayed up talking last night till near time for the roosters to crow and didn’t begin to get caught up on all the news of home.”

“Kaaren too?”

Ingeborg nodded again. “Katy fell asleep in her chair. Left us old ladies to talk the night away.”

“Katy’s too young to appreciate a good gossip. That only comes with nights pacing the floor with a sick one or washing clothes for two days straight or lasting out these blizzards with a sane mind.”

“Or any mind.” lngeborg smiled at Penny. “See what you have to look forward to?”

“I wouldn’t mind waiting if I had a family of my own nearby.”

“Lord, child, what do you mean? If we aren’t family—”

“No, Tante Agnes.” Penny raised her hand. “You and Onkel Joseph, you
are
my family. But somewhere I have brothers and sisters of my own, and I’d like to find them so I can write to them and maybe they’d come out here to see us. Or we could at least send letters. Cousin Ephraim coming like he did makes me want to see them all the more. If they are still alive.”

“I guess I always knew you missed them, but after we moved out here, you never said much.” Agnes shook her head. “We should have taken all of you, like I wanted.”

Penny looked up at her aunt. “Like you wanted?”

Agnes nodded. “Me’n Joseph, we said we’d take all five, but your other relatives said that was too much and the children should be split up.” Agnes now shook her head. “I should’ve done what I thought best and just taken over.”

Penny moved close to Agnes’s side and leaned her head against her aunt’s thigh. “Bless you for caring so much. I sure do wish it had happened that way. But getting all of those kids into a wagon coming west, now that would have been some sight.”

Agnes stroked Penny’s hair. The mass curled down her back when allowed to hang free as it did today. “You know I couldn’t love you more if’n you were bone of my bone.”

“I know that. When I think of mother, yours is the face I see.”

Agnes laid her cheek on the top of Penny’s head. “We’ll all pray that God sees fit to bring you a baby soon. And that somehow He’ll help us find the rest of your family too.”

“Thank you.” Penny squeezed her aunt’s hand and got to her feet. “I better go get Katy. She can help me carry the water bucket around again. Those men look more than ready for a cup of cool water. Maybe some on the outside would be just as welcome.” She stopped. “On second thought, let Sarah help her.”

“The sight of two such lovely faces won’t hurt ’em neither.”

“You think
Mister
Valders needs water? Or maybe he’d rather wait until his wife brings it out to him.”

“Long wait that’ll be,” muttered Agnes.

“Agnes Baard, and to think you were just telling Penny that forgiveness goes both ways.”

“When did I say that? Not today anyway, even though I do recollect
saying some such to a certain friend of mine who shall remain nameless.” The two friends shared a smile, the kind of smile that comes with having gone through the valleys and cliffs of life and having held each other up along the way.

The two women watched the builders for a time, sharing the comfort of not having to talk but just being together. The three-bedroom house had gone up quickly with so many willing hands. House- and barn-raisings were such common events by now that everybody knew who did what best and let them do it. The young boys had moved their tools to the shade of the store, their froes and mallets flying as they raced to see who could split the most shingles.

Hamre had returned to the work but set his tools apart from the others. Ingeborg looked around again, searching this time for a sorrowful face that reminded her so much of Solveig, Kaaren’s sister, when she came to them after the train accident. But Ilse was younger and had lost much more than a happy face. Without parents and relatives in this country, she could be sent to an orphanage.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Ilse. Have you seen her?”

“She might be with Mrs. Bjorklund over at the church. I thought she’d stay with Katy.”

“Think I’ll go see.” Ingeborg got to her feet, sighing in the process.

“She could always come live with us. You know I have room for another at any time.”

“Thank you, and maybe that is a good idea. She could help you with the younger ones and earn her keep. Not that there isn’t plenty to do around our house. And Kaaren can always use help with her three.”

“You are going to miss Goodie.”

“I know. But Bridget will do as much as three, even though she’s a grandmother. And Katy . . .”

“Katy will be the next one to be married around here.”

“Agnes Baard, you could hire out as a matchmaker. You have marriage on your mind all the time.”

“Ja, well, did you notice Petar?” Agnes shook her head and smiled at the same time. “He’s wearing that same dumb-struck look as Reverend Solberg. That girl will have to fend suitors off with a stick.”

Ingeborg laughed and headed for the church. Leave it to Agnes. She waved at Reverend Solberg, who was nailing rafters to a beam.
Usually Haakan was right along the rooftop, directing anyone who needed extra help. These men could all do so many different things and had learned to work together like a team of twelve-up or more.

The thought of that many horses needed at once reminded her of the steam engine. They would need twelve-up to pull that monster and four more to pull the thresher. Where would they get all the horses? And if they took them all on the road, what would they use at home to break more sod? Good thing the Bjorklunds still had two span of oxen. They might be slower than horses, but speed wasn’t all that counted. Of course, they might take the oxen to pull the thresher.

It all came back to the fact that they needed more horses trained for heavy pulling. While the new machinery saved many hours, it also took more horses to move from place to place.

She could hear the women chattering and laughing before she got to the church doors. With all the windows open to catch any stray breeze, the voices could be heard easily. She stopped in the doorway to watch.

The wedding-ring quilt was stretched out in all its glory, the colors of the small squares that formed the rings glowing where the sun touched them. Needles of the eight women who occupied the chairs around the frame flew as fast as their tongues. Norwegian and English blended together, well punctuated with laughter as the women teased and told stories on one another, mostly for Bridget’s benefit.

Children too old for naps or already awake were blocked in a corner by chairs lying on their sides, so they could play without being underfoot. The child watching them was the serious-faced Ilse. At least she wasn’t scowling. Sophie crawled over to the girl and pulled herself up on the chair.

“Me, up?” she asked in English. She raised her arms and fell backward, smack on her plump little bottom.

Ilse didn’t move.

Sophie pulled herself up again, raised her arms, wobbled, and caught herself with one hand on the chair. “Up!” This time there was no asking. Sophie already knew the value of an attack on an unsuspecting victim.

Ilse shook her head. “You play there.” Her Norwegian flowed quickly, abruptly.

As if she had a window into the little girl’s head, Ingeborg could see Sophie’s mind working. Sophie switched to Norwegian and a
winsome smile. “Me, up?” She rattled the angled chair back with both hands. At the clatter, her eyes lit up and she shook it again.

Ilse sighed and, shaking her head, stepped over the barricade and knelt on the floor.

Sophie’s grin as she turned and dropped to her knees made Ingeborg smile. Who could resist such charm? Certainly not that very sad child that had come to live with them. Perhaps sending her to be with Kaaren and the twins would be the best thing for her. When Sophie set out to charm, the victim hadn’t a snowball’s chance in July of ignoring her.

Sophie crawled right up in Ilse’s lap and, wiggling around like a little puppy trying to make a nest, parked her bottom on the girl’s knees. She looked up at the older girl, babbling out her own story and taking over. It made no difference to Sophie if she was understood or not. But something got through, because a smile glimmered on Ilse’s pale face. Though lasting only for a moment, that glimmer was a break in the sorrow.

Sophie was better than a puppy for bringing out a smile any day.

Ingeborg looked over at Kaaren, who nodded to say she had seen the same thing. Bridget smiled at both her daughters-in-law and kept on stitching.