Chapter
10

Holding the dinner basket, Rune watched Bjorn pull the gelding’s tail through the crupper, finishing up the harnessing. The boys were right; the horses had both lost condition. And here came a brace of fine Belgians up the road, pulling a light sledge. The fight was about to begin.

Einar came out of the shed with a handful of axes and stopped cold. “Who’s that?”

“Oskar Kielund.” Rune kept his voice soft. “He’s going to help me load logs today.”

As Rune had predicted, Einar yelled. “I told you I wasn’t going to hire him!”

“I hired him. My logs.”

Bjorn froze in his tracks and stared openmouthed at the two men.

Einar stood a moment, fury oozing out all over him. “Send him away and get on the sledge like you’re supposed to.” He turned away and waved an arm at Bjorn. “Boy, get on there. We have work to do.”

Bjorn didn’t move.

Rune dipped his head toward the approaching team. “Come.”

Bjorn hesitated, watching Einar, then ran over to Mr. Kielund’s sledge and jumped up on it. Rune felt a little swish of pride that the boy chose obedience to his far over fear.

“You go with that scoundrel, and you don’t need to come back to this house, do you understand?” Einar hollered. “You’re gone, you and your whole lazy family!”

Rune kept his voice level. “We will discuss it tonight.” He climbed up on the sledge behind Mr. Kielund, bringing the dinner basket with him.

The fellow clucked to his team and turned them aside, heading toward Rune’s land. “My sister Mildred knows the Strands. She said he might blow up. She’s good at reading people, y’know?”

“Apparently.” Rune turned to watch Einar as they slid over the frozen ground. He was shaking his fist and yelling, but Rune could no longer make out words. “Months ago, my wife, Signe, did some calculations and showed that we had more than worked out the terms of our indenture. He fumes and blusters, but he has no financial or legal hold on us anymore.”

Bjorn braced himself beside Rune. “You have a mighty fine team, Mr. Kielund. They’re the biggest horses I ever saw, and in really good flesh. Almost fat, even.”

Mr. Kielund chuckled. “They’re Belgians, lad. There’s blond Belgians and roan Belgians, y’know? And that’s not fat. It’s all muscle. They work hard and eat hearty, these two.” He pointed ahead. “Them the logs?”

Rune smiled. “Them’s the logs.” His logs.

Mr. Kielund pulled in beside the pile, jumped down, and began pulling rope and pulleys and hooks off his sledge. He had obviously done this many times. He smiled at Bjorn. “That fellow called you ‘boy,’ but I bet that’s not your name.”

“Bjorn Carlson, sir.”

“Bjorn, I’m Oskar.” Mr. Kielund extended a hand, so Bjorn shook it. “You’re a pretty good hand with horses. How about you unhitch that mare? Her name is Petunia, and we’ll use her to roll the logs up onto the sledge.”

Elated, Bjorn pulled Petunia’s lines free and unhooked her singletree.

Mr. Kielund was a pro at this. Within moments, it seemed, they had a chain around the nearest log and a pulley system set up. Bjorn hooked the singletree into a heavy steel ring, and Mr. Kielund urged his Petunia forward.

The log tilted a bit and rolled onto the sledge. Mr. Kielund used a pole with a hook and spearpoint to arrange it just so.

Bjorn wagged his head. “That was sure quick. What is that tool?” He pointed to the pole.

“It’s a peavey. Real handy for making a log do what you tell it to.”

Bjorn laughed.

Just as quickly, they loaded a second log. Mr. Kielund chained them down. “I’ll take these two out and be back. I charge by the log, not the load. Two is plenty for the horses to handle.”

“Then have a bite to eat first.” Rune broke open the dinner basket and handed Mr. Kielund a sandwich.

Mr. Kielund sat down beside a log and started on his sandwich as Rune poured coffee. “Fresh bread! Really good bread. And the ham is excellent. Your wife’s a fine cook, Mr. Carlson.”

“That she is.”

Mr. Kielund chose a pickle and munched for a moment. “Yes sir, a fine cook. She doesn’t happen to sell these pickles, does she?”

“No, she doesn’t.” But what a great idea that was. Rune could build her a cold frame for starting cucumbers early. In fact, he ought to do that anyway. He would build a cold frame on the south side of Einar’s house. Gerd could use a cold frame too.

As Mr. Kielund drove off with the logs, Bjorn watched, wistful. “He sure knows how to do it, Far. And he doesn’t overwork his horses. Onkel Einar works his horses too hard, I think.”

“I think you are right. You have learned a lot from Onkel Einar, but you are also learning what not to do. I’m pleased.” He drained his coffee and stood up. “It’s probably unwise to go to the house with Einar so angry. Wait for him to simmer down. Let’s use the time here to take down one more tree.”

“Sure!” Bjorn hopped up. “Far, you think we can buy a peavey?”

“Letters, Mor!” Leif leaped up the steps later that afternoon. “One for us and one for Onkel Einar.” He burst through the door waving them and looked around. “Where is Tante Gerd?”

“She and Kirstin are taking a nap,” Signe said.

He shrugged and made a face. “Sorry.” His grin returned as he handed her the letter. “Oops, almost forgot. Knute needs something to eat.”

She gave him a sandwich, and he dashed back out the door, pausing to shut it carefully.

Signe shook her head and smiled at the same time. Oh, to be young like that again. Studying the letters, she realized they were both from Nilda. Guilt beating her about the head and shoulders, she propped the one for Einar against the empty bowl in the center of the table. She slit the other envelope with her fingernail as she pulled out a chair and sat.

Dear Brother Rune and my still best friend Signe,

Signe sniffed and rolled her lips together. Such a simple thing to make her teary-eyed already.

We are so excited. My temporary job with Mrs. Sieverson turned into full-time when her regular assistant, Matilde, decided to live with an aunt in Malmo. Ivar got a small job too, and we could afford his ticket at last. The tickets have arrived, and I take them out almost daily to make sure the dream is coming true. I really am coming to Amerika. I should make myself write this in English, but it would be a very short letter. We have been following your advice, and both Ivar and I are taking English lessons from an old gentleman up the road who lived in Amerika for five years. He finally decided he would rather live in Norway after his wife and their two children died in a house fire in the middle of the winter. That is such a tragic story, and he has never really become himself again. But he agreed to teach us, and we go three times a week, and he gives us homework. So we are all learning to speak English. Are you not amazed?

Since Ivar promised Mor he would make sure she gets to Amerika, she goes with us for lessons too. Mor is doing her best, but she cannot make Far want to ever go there nor learn the language. He says Norwegian he is, and Norwegian he will remain until the day he dies. He will be buried here next to his far and mor and the other relatives in the home plot. I know that is a rather depressing thought, but it has not deterred the rest of us from dreaming, including Mor.

We are packing the trunks, and I am including the list we are working from, so if you can think of something else, you better write back quickly.

Again Signe sniffed.

“Is something wrong?” Gerd asked, gently closing the door behind her. “Kirstin is still sleeping, so I banked pillows around her so she can’t tumble off.”

“Nei, just a letter from Nilda and a list of the things they are packing in their trunks.” She motioned to the letter on the table. “That is for you both, I think. Would you like to hear this one?”

Gerd stepped to the stove. “Coffee will be ready in a minute.” Waving a hand to signal go ahead, she stuck a couple more pieces of wood in the stove and pulled the pot to the hottest place. “Uff da, I slept too long.”

Signe shook her head and returned to her reading, continuing out loud. “‘We are arriving in Duluth on May the twenty-ninth and will take the train to Blackduck. And then I will see your dear faces. I know the boys have grown so much, and the baby—oh, I am so excited. Please greet everyone from those of us at home and know we think about you and pray for you every day. Your sister and friend, Nilda Carlson.’”

She went back and read the first part aloud to Gerd, then laid the letter aside.

The air seemed so heavy. She knew why. Rune and Einar would both come back this evening. She had heard the terrible argument that morning, except that Rune did not argue. He simply stated what he would do, and then he did it. She thought how stubborn those two both were and wondered if her family would have a roof over their heads tonight.

Kirstin was making noise in the other room, so Signe brought her to the kitchen. She was very wet, of course, so Signe changed her and set her to nursing.

Gerd spoke. “I should have started bread last night.”

Signe frowned. “We still have yeast, don’t we?”

“Ja, but that will be the last.”

“Go ahead and use it. I will add yeast to the list for the boys. Anything else for the list? We have butter we can send along.”

“Good.”

“Gerd, do you know where to pick chokecherries?”

Gerd nodded. “If we take the horse, I will be able to show you. Maybe we will get enough strawberries from the garden to make jam, if they made it through the winter. Did you see any raspberry bushes out there last summer? One year I got juneberries too.” She wagged her head gently. “So many berries grow in the areas logged off a few years ago.”

“We used lingonberries at home.” Signe glanced down at her daughter, who grinned up at her, milk leaking out the side of her mouth. “You’re just playing now, you silly. I think you are ready for porridge, my girl.” Tucking herself back together, she sat Kirstin on her lap, and at the healthy burp, shook her head. “Uff da, such manners.” Kirstin waved her fist and chortled to her mor, her two gleaming white bottom teeth flashing bright. “I know, you. Showing off those teeth. You bite me again, and you will end up eating from a spoon.” She stood and turned to hand the baby to Gerd.

The door slammed open. Einar glared at her. “Are you packed? You’re leaving, you know.”

“I heard the argument this morning.” She did not answer the question he asked.

“You lazy, selfish people have disobeyed me for the last time. Pack your things, or I send you off without them.”

Gerd stood up, casually walked over to Signe, and handed her the baby. Just as quietly and casually, she walked over to Einar and stood immediately in front of him, nose to nose. “I live in this house too. They will live here until their house is built because I want them to. Signe helps me; there is so much I cannot do yet. I need her. You need the men, and they work hard for you, for long hours. So you are just going to have to stuff that abominable, haughty pride back into its tiny box in your heart and shut up!”

She walked over to Signe, took the baby back, and quietly sat down.

Einar’s face turned purple. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. He wheeled and slammed out the door.

Gert muttered, “Prideful, thick-headed old goat.”

There were tears in her eyes.