The Reaper's Song (32 page)

Haakan and Lars looked at each other, nodded, and together came up behind Anner. One grabbed the hand with the knife and the other grabbed around the man’s waist, hoisting him off his feet. With a quick twist, the knife fell to the ground. Anner let out a bellow that could be heard clear to Grafton.

“You better take him home,” Reverend Solberg said.

“You folks go on and have a good time,” Haakan called. “Lars and I will be back soon.”

“You want me to find his wife?” Lars asked.

“No, let her stay and enjoy the visit.”

“She hasn’t talked with a soul,” Ingeborg put in. “I tried to get her to talk with me, but nothing. She reminds me of poor Mrs. Booth when she just walked out into that terrible snowstorm and never returned.” A shiver ran up her back. It didn’t take much to bring on madness out here on the prairie, and Hildegunn had been through a lot. Just like the rest of them, only by a different means.

But when they got a now-blubbering Anner to the wagon, Hildegunn huddled in the back as if she’d never moved.

“What will become of them?” Ingeborg asked as the wagon drove away. “Whatever will become of them?”

T
hose men sure did know how to kill a party,” Agnes commented the next day after church.

Ingeborg looked around at the congregation, which that morning consisted mainly of women. “Many of our men seem to have come down with a nasty stomach and head ailment. And it struck so fast too.”

“I’d strike something too if’n I could.”

“I think we can.” Penny joined the group. “I say every time we find a bottle of spirits of any kind, we break it.”

Ingeborg thought a moment. “Wouldn’t go that far, if it were me. Some is needed for medicinal purposes. Does a good job of cleaning out wounds and keeping one from feeling such terrible pain.”

“I’d just as soon pour it over their heads.”

“Sort of like the ‘oil of blessing.’ ” Ingeborg grinned at her own joke.

“Don’t you go takin’ the Word of the Lord in a joke.” Penny sounded so much like the Mrs. Valders of before the accident that the ladies chuckled behind their gloved hands.

Penny dropped her act. “That wasn’t nice. I’m sorry. Near to broke my heart seeing Mrs. Valders that way yesterday. I’ll take any and all bossing if she just gets back to being herself.”

“I think she’s scared half to death.” Agnes lowered her voice so it wouldn’t go beyond their small group.

“Scared? Why? Because her husband is sick?” Penny turned toward her aunt.

Agnes shook her head. “Just a feeling I have, but it ain’t good.”

“What can we do?” Kaaren carried Grace on her hip while Lars held Sophie.

“Break all the bottles and hide the ones for medicine.” Penny’s voice carried beyond the group.

Hjelmer looked her way and turned back to the group of men. “We’re in for it, fellas. You just better be prepared.”

“If all those idiots could only hold their liquor. No need to get drunk like that. Nothing wrong with a drink or two. Just don’t go getting pie-eyed.”

“Or mean.”

“Or sick.” Joseph had made it to church, but he still showed a bit of green around the edges. “My suspenders, but those cows wanted to be milked early. One bellered in my ear, and I thought my head was about to bust.”

They cut off their snickering at the looks they received from the womenfolk.

“I say we declare war.” Penny leaned into the circle. “Starting as soon as we get home. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” The vote was unanimous. There would be no boozing in Blessing.

“You know,” said Bridget, “people drink a lot in Norway, and no one seems to care.”

“Really?” Penny raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they just don’t get drunk there.”

“Oh, they do.”

“If it were your husband falling down drunk, wouldn’t you care?”

“Ja, I guess. But Gustaf could hold his liquor, so it never bothered me.” She thought a moment. “Much.”

“So . . . what were you ladies discussing with all the secretive looks?” Haakan asked on the way home.

“Breaking bottles of booze.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Our motto is ‘No booze in Blessing.’ ”

“Oh, land, there’ll be big trouble in Blessing. Mark my words. You know we don’t have many heavy drinkers on a regular basis, only when the men get together in a group.”

“What about Anner? Are you saying he’s the only one?”

“No, I mean I don’t know. That’s not something we men talk about much.”

“We women didn’t either until things got out of hand. Someone could have been killed because of the drinking.”

“No one wants to admit to things like that.”

She shook her head. “Thank the good Lord above, it isn’t a problem at our house.”

“I got a letter from Solveig.” Kaaren brandished the envelope as she came through the door. She shifted Trygve to the other hip and pointed the twins in the direction of the toy box Ingeborg kept just inside the parlor. “You two go on and play nice now.” She set Trygve down on the rug where he immediately went on all fours and followed right after the girls, crawling almost as fast as they walked.

Bridget stopped stirring the boiler of diapers and pushed the coffeepot to the hotter part of the stove. “Be ready in a minute.” She replaced the lid on the copper boiler and laid the worn stirring stick on top. Then, using her apron as a potholder, she opened the oven and pulled out a pan of cinnamon rolls. “You got here at just the right time.” With the ease born of long practice, she flipped the pan over on a clean dish towel, and the fragrance of cinnamon flavored the room.

“My, but that looks good.” Kaaren sniffed and exhaled on a sigh.

“So, now, what does Solveig have to say?” Bridget pulled a corner roll off and slipped it onto a plate. “Perhaps this will give you the strength to read.” Her smile brought an answering one from Kaaren.

She eyed the steaming roll in front of her but pulled the sheet of paper from the envelope first.

My dear family,

How I miss all of you, and thinking of you all together makes me green with jealousy. But we are busy here, and Mother Carlson lets me believe that I am in charge of the household while she manages things behind the scenes. I am just not used to having all these fine things to care for. I am not complaining, mind you.

I have good news. George and I will be parents in late spring, and our little one seems to want to make his mother sick. Being sick is not the good news. But that brings me to another point. Could you possibly spare Sarah to come visit for a time? Our maid, or cook, or whatever you want to call her, is planning on getting married next month, and if Sarah would like the job, it is hers. She would use this time to get used to the place.

Kaaren looked up from her reading. “Ingeborg, you could make
a wagon trip with stuffs for the Bonanza farm, the last run for this season. And take Sarah with you.” She waited for Ingeborg to answer.

“First of all, Sarah, do you want to go? And second, do we have enough produce to take to make it pay the way?”

The women gathered around the table as Bridget set a plate with a cinnamon roll at each place. After she poured the coffee, she took the last place at the table.

They all looked to Sarah for an answer.

Sarah studied the roll in front of her, then the design on the tablecloth, and shifted her fork to the right. When she finally looked up, she only shrugged. “If I got to leave, I guess I got to leave.”

“But that’s not true. You don’t have to go. It’s just that this could be a good opportunity for you. They will pay you well, and wait until you see that house. Heaven should be so fine.” Ingeborg leaned forward. “Sarah, it is solely up to you.”

Sarah looked around at each of them. “I would miss you all so. Do they speak Norwegian there?”

“Well, Solveig does, that’s for sure.” Kaaren folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “You don’t have to make a decision today, you know.”

“No, I think maybe it would be best if I go.” Sarah clasped her hands in her lap. “If you think I could manage all that there would be to do.”

“Between you and Solveig, George Carlson will think he’s been doubly blessed. Besides, in the last letter Solveig said there was a real good-looking foreman on the farm there. Almost as handsome as George. Those were her exact words.”

Sarah turned a becoming shade of pink. “Will you write, then?”

“No, we’ll just go on up day after tomorrow.” Ingeborg looked at Kaaren. “Will that give you enough time to get butter churned? We got plenty of eggs, and I have two wheels of cheese near ripe. We’re going to have to build a bigger well house to cure cheese at the rate we are going. Penny can sell about all I give her too.”

Two days later, in the frost of the near dawn, they loaded the wagon.

“If we had already butchered, we could’ve taken hams and such too,” Ingeborg said as she covered the blanketed produce with straw.

“They don’t have so big a crew right now either.” Haakan slammed the wagon tailboard shut. “Now, you be sure to greet Mrs. Carlson for us. And give Solveig greetings. Perhaps she and George can come for Christmas.”

“Strange to not have a list up to my elbow with things to pick up at the St. Andrew store.” Ingeborg swung up onto the wagon seat. “Good thing I’ve been weaning Astrid or she would have had to come along. And it is downright chilly this morning for a little one.”

They said their good-byes and left the yard as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, tinting the whole world pink.

“Ah, look.” Ingeborg pointed above the trees lining the banks of the Red River. “You’ll warm up soon with that.” The horses trotted up the road, harness jingling. A red-winged blackbird sang from a milkweed pod, greeting the sun with his notes. The maple and oak leaves blazed red and orange in the growing sunlight, while the birch trunks gleamed white against the riot of color.

“Even if it is so flat, this land has a beauty all its own.” Sarah inhaled deeply of the nippy air. “But don’t you miss the mountains of home?”

“Not so much anymore. But at first it was hard. The winters are bad. That north wind blows down through here like ten freight trains tied together. You are fortunate. The furnace in this house you are going to will keep you warm this winter.”

Ingeborg didn’t return until after dark, but the moon lit her way nearly as well as the sun. The trip home alone gave her time to think and plan for the months ahead, rejoicing in the gift of a cold breeze in her face, sweaty horses, and a sense of God’s presence as if He were riding on the seat right beside her.

When she told Haakan of the sensation, he looked at her with a smile. “And He was, you know.”

“I know.” She crawled into bed and stretched from her toes to the crown of her head. “That is some fine house, that Carlson place.”

“Ja, but he doesn’t own his own house like we do. Wonder what will happen when the Bonanza farm breaks up. Some of the others down south are, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that. How come?”

“With the drop in wheat prices, those money men aren’t getting as much as they used to. So they are selling out. Guess they just don’t realize that farming goes in cycles. Some years good, some not so good.”