Chapter
29

Signe stepped out on the porch. “What are you doing?”

Rune looked up from the two-by-four he had laid across two sawhorses. “Building railings for Einar so he can get up and down the porch stairs more easily.”

Bjorn brought him the measuring stick and the saw. Together they measured the length needed.

“Do we need three posts, or is two enough?” Bjorn asked.

“Two should be fine. The top one nailed into the porch and the other onto the last step, high enough so he needn’t bend over.”

Signe watched her two men work as a well-trained team. They seemed to read each other’s minds as they measured and cut boards. Railings on these porch stairs would be good for all of them, especially Gerd. Strange how she thought of Gerd as an old woman when in reality she was only ten years older than Signe.

She could hear Gerd murmuring to Kirstin and the baby answering with her own little noises that were progressing from gurgles to real sounds. When they laid her on a quilt on the floor, she delighted in finding and catching her toes and feet, and playing with her hands, moving her fingers and grabbing for anything in sight. Gerd’s joy in the baby made Signe’s heart sing with thankfulness.

“Where’s Onkel Einar?” she asked as she returned to the kitchen, inhaling the rich odor of baking chicken.

“Sleeping in the chair in front of the window.”

“With all that hammering?”

Gerd shook her head. “He can sleep through anything, more so since the accident.”

“I think I’ll go weed and hill the potatoes.”

“Better take a can of kerosene. I think the bugs are there already. Just think, soon we’ll have new peas and perhaps tiny potatoes to cream. Nothing tastes better than peas right from the garden.”

“Or in the garden. Peas are best when shelled and eaten in the garden. Leif said there are almost blossoms.”

Signe put on a sunbonnet and headed for the machine shed, where the barrel of kerosene rested on a rack. She opened the spigot and drained a couple of inches into the can that waited on the shelf beside the barrel. It was a shame Leif wasn’t here; he had eagle eyes when it came to spotting bugs on the plants. She sure hoped the boys were catching fish. They’d save the baked chicken for tomorrow.

Once she’d finished the potatoes, she picked lettuce leaves off the quickly growing plants. Gerd’s recipe for a dressing of vinegar, sugar, and cream over baby lettuce leaves was as good as dessert.

Rune and Bjorn waved to her on their way out to the new cellar. Her sunbonnet hanging down her back, Signe lifted her face to the cooling breeze. Swallows dipped for mud in the pigpen where Leif kept a corner wet for the hogs in the heat. Building their nests up under the eaves of the barn took a lot of mud and hard work.

Signe wiped the dripping perspiration from her face with the edge of her apron. Good thing they had planted a long row of lettuce, or they’d not have enough for supper yet.

She met Nilda at the doorway. “Where you going?”

“Out to help Rune. I sure wish I had a pair of pants like the men. It would be much easier to work out there in pants.”

Signe smiled. “I remember cousin Ingeborg decided to work in pants when she and Kaaren were widowed in North Dakota and Ingeborg worked the fields to prove up her homestead. Kaaren wrote more letters home than she did. I never forgot that story. Remember how your mor told us and was so horrified?”

“Ja, Ingeborg did what was necessary. That’s where Ivar really wanted to go to work, in Blessing. He said that the last time a letter came from them, asking for workers, he was too young to go.”

Signe wanted to go with Nilda to see the new cellar but knew she needed to stay here in case Onkel Einar needed help, even though Rune had made her promise she would not help him walk or get within reach of his cane. How sad to have to think about something like that.

“Gerd!” The order thundered from the bedroom.

“Ja, coming.”

“Help me!”

Signe shook her head at the older woman as she entered the house. “I will.” I can duck faster than you can. She stopped in the bedroom doorway. “How can I help you?”

Einar had moved himself back to bed at some point. “I want Gerd.”

“Gerd is busy. How can I help you?”

“I am going out to the porch. Did Rune bring up the saw to sharpen?”

“I believe so. I’ll be right back.” She checked the porch and returned. “Ja, he did. The files are there too.”

“Help me!” He pushed himself to his feet, teetered a moment, but steadied himself.

“I will walk with you, but you must do it yourself.”

He glared at her, thumped his cane on the floor, and slowly shuffled around the end of the bed. Signe stepped back as he neared the door, earning herself another glare.

“Can you at least hold the door open?” he growled.

Do you ever say please? She nodded without answering.

He stumped through the doorway while she held the screen door open. He stopped and stared at the new railings. “Well, I’ll be. . . .”

Please, Lord, don’t let him start down those steps. Please.

Einar shuffled to his chair and lowered himself into it with a sigh. After a moment, he reached for the file and the long crosscut saw they used to fell the big trees.

The sound of the file was almost reassuring as Signe returned to the kitchen. The pan of baked chicken sat on the table, and she shook her head at Gerd.

The older woman huffed.“I know you don’t want me lifting heavy things, but really, that pan is not that heavy. I washed the lettuce, and I will cook the canned potatoes, our last two jars, later.”

Signe turned when she heard the boys shout for her and headed back to the porch.

“You better sharpen the knives, we got fish for supper!” Knute crowed. All three of them held up strings of fish. “We got perch and bass and even sunfish. Ivar says we’ll fillet them by the house and bury all the fish heads and skins between the corn rows.”

Signe got out two slender knives and set to sharpening them on the whetstone.

“They can use the tall bench in the shade. That’s where I butchered chickens and such.” Gerd shook her head, an almost-smile peeking out. “I wish they could show their far.”

“He will enjoy eating them fried more than seeing the stringers.” Signe checked the sharpness of the blades and, taking the whetstone along, went out to get them set up. Leif carried the dishpan.

“I caught the biggest one,” he told her.

That night, fishing stories bounced around the table. It was a good thing Onkel Einar had eaten outside and gone to bed, because the jollity in the kitchen would have earned them all orders to shut up.

“Mr. Garborg was real happy for us,” Knute said. “He said the fish have really been biting lately. The missus even smoked some of the bigger ones.”

The boys’ words tumbled and bumped over each other, leaving Signe with smiles and laughter. How wonderful to see her family having such a grand time, in spite of the grumpy man in the other room. He roared at them to be quiet once, but the hilarity dimmed only momentarily. Perhaps just enough time for him to fall asleep.

The first wagons delivering lumber for the new house arrived late on Monday morning, pulled by teams of four horses. Leif ran to tell Rune and the others, who trotted over to help the drivers unload the wagons. The drivers turned down an offer of dinner and drove directly back to Blackduck.

“How many loads will there be, Far?” Leif asked as they sat at the dinner table.

“I am not sure, but they said they would load the wagons again today and be here earlier tomorrow.”

“We will have sandwiches for them tomorrow.” Signe had started bread that morning. With the new yeast from Benson’s, they no longer had to start the sourdough the night before.

“What are you doing?” Nilda’s near shout an hour later brought Signe running to the back door.

“I am going down the steps,” Einar barked.

“But what if—?” Nilda stopped, giving a glare that matched his, and grabbed the ax to split wood. Keeping one eye on Einar slowed down the slam of the ax splitting rounds on the chopping block.

Signe breathed a sigh of relief when Einar reached the bottom of the steps and stood firm on the ground. She held her breath again when he turned and started back up the stairs. If only Rune were here in case he fell again.

“No fool like an old fool,” Gerd muttered behind her. “You can’t tell him anything, so don’t waste your breath.”

When Einar set to sharpening the saw, Signe sighed again. “Onkel Einar, you want a cup of coffee?”

“I will take it to him. He might poke you with his cane.” Gerd did as she said and came back shaking her head. “At least he feels he is doing something. That might settle him down some.”

By Wednesday, all the framing lumber was stacked near the cellar. Every evening, Rune and the boys slaved to get the cellar posts and ceiling joists in place. They finished Friday night.

“Tomorrow we lay the flooring at dawn.” Rune looked haggard, aging before her eyes with the hours they put in every day.

“I will help Leif with the chores in the morning so you can all get started.” Nilda looked to Signe. “They said not to worry about food . . .”

“But we can bake those three rabbits Knute brought in and serve them with noodles,” Signe said.

Gerd swayed with Kirstin in her arms. “You and me, we’ll take care of the house, right, baby?” She kissed the baby’s fists and cheek, getting her hair pulled in reply. Untangling her hair from the grasping fists, she and Kirstin both made happy noises.

Rune roused everyone before the sun yellowed the sky. He ignored Einar’s early mutterings that soon escalated into threats. After a hurried breakfast, he took his crew out to the house. Einar moved to the porch to start on the other saw.

“And keep track of what everyone is doing,” Gerd muttered.

When the wagons started arriving for the house-raising, Einar stood on the edge of the porch, muttering and glaring.

Please, Lord, keep him from scaring away these wonderful people who are coming to help us. Signe saw four wagons drive past the house and down the lane to the piles of lumber where Rune and the boys were laying down flooring as fast as they could.

Leif harnessed Rosie to the cart and drove up to the house. “Far said to fill the cream cans with water for the workers.”

They pumped and hauled buckets of water to fill the cream cans, and Leif waved as he drove off again.

“What will we use as tables for the food?” Signe asked.

“The sawhorses with boards laid over them and set up down there. I’m sure the women will arrive about eleven thirty,” Gerd answered. “At least that’s the way it was the day we raised this house.”

“You had helpers?”

“Ja, that was before Einar . . . well, got so angry.” Gerd did not look at her.

“I hope someday you will tell us the entire story. Perhaps then we can understand better.”

“We’ll see.”

They were just loading their dinner contributions into the cart when they saw two wagons coming down the lane. Mrs. Benson waved from the first one. “We’ll follow you,” she shouted.

When they arrived at the new house, some of the men were turning the saw horses into tables, while others kept on hammering. Three walls had been lifted and nailed in place on the subflooring for the first floor, long boards bracing the framing, and the fourth was being assembled on the ground, almost ready to be raised in turn.

Signe paused after stepping down from the cart and stared at the house rising from the hole. “It is real,” she whispered. “We really are going to have a home of our own.” She nudged Nilda. “Look who’s here.” She nodded to the young men up on the ladders, both Petter Thorvaldson from the lumberyard and Fritz Larsson, the schoolteacher and organist. They both waved at Nilda.

Nilda waved back and turned to help carry over the food. Within minutes, the women flocked around the table, uncovering dishes, sticking big spoons in bowls and wooden spoons in pots, and laying out a stack of plates.

Mrs. Benson banged a big metal spoon on a pot to get everyone’s attention and nodded to Nilda, who hollered, “Dinner is served.”

The hammering ceased immediately, men scurried down ladders, and Reverend Skarstead raised his arms. “Let us pray.” He paused for silence and then began. “Lord God, heavenly Father, we are gathered here in your name to create a home for Rune and his family. We thank you for the privilege of building a new house, for getting to know each other better as we work together. Bless this home and this food to our bodies. Lord Jesus, we give you all the praise and glory. In your precious name.” He paused, and the amen rolled across the building site.

Laughing, the men jostled for the line and started heaping their plates full.

As Signe dipped water from the milk cans into the men’s cups, she kept an eye on the long table of food and the people both serving and eating it. She could not help but notice how Mr. Larsson and Petter Thorvaldson lingered by Nilda as she cut big slabs of bread. They were both grinning broadly, though she could not hear what they were saying to Nilda.

“You know, Signe,” Mrs. Benson whispered, “I think two of the young men here are more than a little aware of our Nilda.”

Signe shook her head. “She and Mr. Thorvaldson became friends on the ship coming over. She was glad to see him again, but nothing else. At least, I don’t think so. And Mr. Larsson, he teaches our boys. And the English class for adults.” She didn’t mention that she had noticed his interest in Nilda at class.

Mrs. Benson shrugged. “All I can say is that this is the first barn or house-raising that Mr. Larsson has ever attended. He is usually practicing the organ on Saturdays for church the next day. Just something I noticed. And besides, both of them are hovering around her like bees around the only buttercup.”

Signe watched Nilda carry the coffeepot around and refill cups. She was laughing at a comment from one of the men, the sun glinting off her deep golden hair, which was getting more sun-streaked as the summer continued. Nilda was indeed having a good time. Her laugh rang out again, making those around her smile.

And to think they had been best friends for so many years and were now here in America, living in the same house and working together. Signe had never dreamed something this wonderful could happen.

“Where is that sweet little daughter of yours?” one of the women asked.

“Tante Gerd is taking care of her at the house.”

“She is growing up so fast. It’s been so long since I had a baby around that I forget what one can be like.” Mrs. Benson glanced up. “I better go cut the pies and cakes so the men can get back to work. Don’t you worry about tomorrow. Most of the workers will have dinner at home before coming here, and we will bring food for an afternoon break. Mr. Benson said they should be able to set the ridge board in place and most of the rafters, maybe even the roofing boards. Doing two full floors like this is a big difference from something like the Strand house.”

“It looks huge already.”

After dinner, the men went back to work, and the women cleaned up the dinner things, each retrieving the items she’d brought to wash at home. Nilda and Signe helped load the wagons and waved them off.

“So this is the way they do things here in Minnesota.” Nilda dusted her hands together. “Some neighborly, that’s for sure.”

Together they loaded the cream cans along with their things in the cart, drove it up to the house, unloaded, refilled the cream cans with water, and Leif took them back to the building site.

On their way to the house, Signe nudged Nilda. “You seemed to be having a fine time with your two gentleman helpers. Although I’m not sure they were real friendly to each other.”

Nilda stopped and stared at her. “What?” Her brow wrinkled. “Who?” But her cheeks were reddening as she spoke.

“You know, Mr. Larsson and Mr. Thorvaldson.”

“They were just being polite.”

Signe nodded. “Of course. However, even Mrs. Benson commented on them hovering around you like honey bees.”

“Signe Carlson, I never—” Nilda clamped her fists on her hips.

Signe snorted. “Just thought I’d mention it. I think it’s kind of fun.”

Nilda shook her head. “Perhaps Gerd will have the coffee on.”

As the shadows lengthened, some of the men left to do chores at home. Einar stood on the back porch and yelled at every wagon that went by, waving his fist in the air. “And don’t come back! Stay off my land.”

Some stayed on until dusk made it too dark to pound nails any longer. Mr. Benson was one of the last to leave. “Many of us will be back tomorrow after church. And I know a few who might drop by when they can find the time later. You’ll be able to move into your new house sooner than you think.”

Rune shook his hand. “We can never thank you enough.”

“That’s all right. Good things happen when neighbors help each other. Far as I can see, that’s the way God wants us to live, helping each other.” Mr. Benson looked toward the other house. “It’s a shame Einar can’t let go of the past. He always was rather stern but still a good man.”

“Seems there are a few other people with the same problem, holding on to the past.”

“Yep, there are. Downright shame.” Mr. Benson waved as he drove out.

A shotgun blast split the air.

Rune spun around and raced toward the house. “Einar Strand, what on earth were you thinking?” he yelled once he was in earshot.

Einar tried to turn, staggered, and grabbed for the porch post, his shotgun clattering to the ground. “I can shoot any time I want. Be glad I shot in the air as a warning.”

Rune felt his jaw drop before he strode up to the porch. What in the world? He forced himself to slow down and swallow at least some of the words he wanted to bellow. “These people are helping build our house, you know that!”

“He was on my land, and he knows I do not want anyone on my land.”

“Einar Strand, have all these falls gone to your head?” Rune leaned over and picked up the shotgun.

“Gimme that!”

Rune bit back the “come and get it” comment that almost made it out of his mouth. All he needed right now was for Einar to go down again. Weary did not begin to describe his leaden feet and fuzzy mind. Surely he misunderstood what Einar had just done. But the weight of the gun in his hand told him otherwise.

“Give me that gun,” Einar repeated.

Rune ignored him, instead going inside and hanging the gun on the hooks above the bedroom door. He shot Signe a sad look and kept on going up the stairs to bed. He could hear the boys breathing in the gentle air. How they could sleep through all that noise was beyond him, but gratitude helped blur anger’s edges.

Lord, give me patience, he prayed as he drifted off.