Chapter
30

Morning came before anyone was ready to meet the new day. Rune fought his heavy eyes, blinking in the dimness. The cooling breeze that announced dawn came through the window. He breathed in deep, praying for the energy to get through this day. Lord, what do we do about Einar? What if he had aimed that gun at someone? Thankfully it was the shotgun, which would never reach that far, but if he was crazy enough to shoot at all, would he be tempted to use the rifle?

Rune pulled on his pants and slid the suspenders over his shoulders. He had to move the rifle. In the barn or machine shed would have to work. Since Signe and Nilda had already gone downstairs, he roused the boys and pulled on his boots. He paused, looking around the slope-roofed attic and nodding. Einar would not search up here. He had to do this without Gerd knowing so she would not give it away.

Walking carefully down the stairs, he looked above the back door. Good, the rifle hung just where Bjorn had put it, with the shotgun over the bedroom door. He lifted the rifle down and, after the boys went out the door, took it upstairs and laid it against a wall back under the slant of the roof.

They were a quiet group on the way to church that morning. But they were all there, and that counted for something. While the house called them to come work, church called softly with the promise of worship. God was answering their prayers so far beyond what Rune had asked for.

Mr. Benson met him at the door. “Good morning, Rune.”

“Mr. Benson.”

“My name is Josef. Joe.”

“Ja, takk, but I have to apologize for Einar.”

“I wanted to talk about that. If I were you—”

“You would hide the guns?”

“Yes.”

“I hid the rifle but not the shotgun. The wagons are too far away, and he did shoot up in the air.”

“I would not take chances.” Benson looked directly into Rune’s eyes. “I am concerned for all of you.”

Rune felt his mouth open and close and then stay open. Slowly his head wagged as if with a mind of its own. He tried to form words, but they would not come. Surely Einar wouldn’t—couldn’t . . .

Rune closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.” Lord God, protect us, please. Surely Onkel Einar would not do such a thing. Even his thoughts couldn’t form all the words.

He sat through worship in a daze.

When they stood for the benediction, Signe studied him, concern written all over her face. “What?” she whispered.

“Tell you later.”

Organ music followed them out the doors, and several men shook hands with Rune, saying they’d see him a bit later.

“I’m so sorry I cannot come help today,” Reverend Skarstead said at the doorway. “I have my other parish to take care of too.”

Rune shook his head. “I know that, and I cannot say enough thank-yous for your help yesterday and for encouraging so many others to come. I have never in my life seen so much work accomplished in so little time. Unbelievable.”

“By the grace of God, Rune. Grace of God.”

Rune loaded his family into the wagon and set the horses to a trot until the women called, “Enough, we are bouncing like balls back here.”

“Sorry, just a bit excited to get home.” But how could he hide the shotgun without Einar noticing?

Einar was sitting on the porch, sharpening a saw. He shook his head. “Waste of good time.”

Rune gritted his teeth and went into the kitchen without saying a word.

Gerd looked up at him and said for his ears only, “Don’t let him make you mad. His bark is always worse than his bite.”

“I hope to God so. What if—?” Rune shook his head. “Can we eat right away?”

“Sit down, we will have food on the table by the time everyone is seated.” Gerd reached up and patted his cheek. “Like you said, all will be well.”

Her words reverberated in his head as he wolfed down his dinner. The boys leaped up to follow him out the door, Leif grabbing another biscuit on his way past the basket.

By the time the other men arrived, they had the tools all laid out again and leftover pieces of lumber tossed into a pile away from the sawhorses. The cream cans of water sat in the shade of the nearest tree to keep them cool. The crew was smaller than the day before but started to work with a will. Most of them finished framing in the second floor, including the plate around the top of the framed walls. Several others started measuring and cutting the rafters. Knute and Leif were the go-fers, doing anything that was called for.

Rune marveled at how well these men worked. They hammered in temporary scaffolding to stand upon as they anchored the posts that would support the ridgebeam. A shout went up when the beam settled into place. By afternoon, they were raising rafters and nailing them into position. Nail by nail, the structure looked more like a house.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you, God.

But even with as much progress as they made, and working till dusk, they were not able to get all the rafters in place.

“Sorry, Rune. We hoped to get further.” Joe Benson shook his head. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Got to get that roof on before it rains again.”

“You can’t do that.” Rune shook his head. “Next Saturday would be great.”

“Yes, I can, and so can a couple of others.”

But I need to be out in the woods or—no. Einar would just have to be angry. This was more important than another tree or two. “We will all be out here. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Far!” Leif came running up, panting.

Rune shook his head. “In a minute.”

“No, Far, Onkel Einar is missing.”

Rune turned to face his son fully. “Einar is missing? He can’t walk that far.”

“Tante Gerd sent me.” Leif could hardly talk around his puffing.

Joe Benson turned and yelled to the last few men getting in their wagons. “Einar Strand is missing.”

The four of them gathered around, looking to Rune.

“He can’t have gotten far,” Rune said. “We’ll search the farm buildings first. I’ll go talk with Gerd, see what happened.”

They loaded up the wagons and drove to the barn, Rune heading to the house while the others fanned out.

Gerd stood in the kitchen, her apron clutched tightly in her hands. “I—I—he was out on the porch, and—and I was busy in the house—and Signe took coffee out to him, and—and he was gone.” She blinked often, but a tear escaped in spite of her efforts. “Nilda and Signe are out looking for him. Rune, where could he have gone?”

“The shotgun?”

Gerd looked up, as did Rune. The gun was not on the hooks. “Out on the porch, I guess,” she said.

“No, it isn’t,” Nilda said from the doorway. “He is not anywhere around the buildings.”

Signe came in behind her.

“Gerd, you stay here with Kirstin and Leif, just in case he comes back,” Rune instructed, “then Leif can come let us know.”

“I will help search,” Nilda said with a look that brooked no argument.

Rune turned to the door. “I’ll go talk with the others. We will need lanterns soon.”

“I’ll refill the lanterns from the barrel.” Signe followed them outside.

“He’s not in any of these buildings nor outside of them,” Benson said when they gathered by the porch.

Rune turned to his sons. “Knute, go see if any of the horses are missing.” He darted off.

The men talked among themselves. “He had that head injury. . . .”

“Maybe he’s gone crazy?”

“Ja, remember the gunshot yesterday?”

“Not looking good.”

“You think he’d go down the lane to the road?” one asked.

Rune shook his head. “I have no idea, but as obsessed as he is with the big trees, I would think the woods are more likely. But how could he get there? He must be fallen someplace. Let’s fan out and go through the pasture toward where we cut down the trees. It’s all I can think of. He can’t have gotten far. He is just too weak.”

Signe handed three lanterns to the search party as they passed the machine shed. “Should we follow with the wagon?”

Knute ran up to them. “Far, Rosie is missing and so is the cart.”

“The harness?” Rune asked.

“How else could he use the cart?”

“How could he harness Rosie to the cart?”

“If he is really as weak as you say, how could he do anything?” one of the men asked. He shook his head and spat on the ground. “You got to admit, he always has been devious.”

Einar couldn’t have faked his weakness, Rune knew that for certain. “Maybe, but he has a will of iron when he really wants something. Let’s go.”

A couple of the men headed out to search the hay, oat, and corn fields while the rest of them strode down the lane to the big woods standing dark sentinel ahead.

“Einar! Einar! Einar Strand!” Rune could hear the others calling as they searched. They spread out when they reached the stacks of cut wood and piles of branches. Dusk had slipped in among the trees, cutting down on visibility.

Rune cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Einar! Einar, where are you?”

“Up ahead, isn’t that the horse and cart?” Bjorn tore off to make sure. “He’s not here!” One man brought over a lantern. “Far, the shotgun is here.”

“Okay. Takk.” At least Einar had not shot someone else or himself. Rune realized he’d been thinking that. But the Einar he knew would never shoot himself, at least not on purpose.

The men kept walking and calling, holding the lanterns high as darkness overtook the forest.

Ivar, Bjorn, and Knute forged ahead.

“Rune, over here! Bring a lantern!” Ivar’s voice echoed through the dark.

The men thrashed through the downed limbs and branches and stood in a half circle at the base of one of the big trees. With the lanterns lifted high, they could see Einar crumpled on the ground, his cane to the side, his ax handle still in one hand.

“Is he alive?” someone asked.

Rune knelt beside the still form and felt for a pulse at the side of his neck. Shaking his head, he whispered, “I think he’s been gone for some time. Even with the heat, he is getting cold.”

“Let’s turn him over and straighten him out while we can,” Joe Benson suggested.

Rune’s head kept wagging. Einar Strand, you died doing what you lived for, at the foot of a big tree. He glanced up to see a slash on the tree trunk. He pointed. “See that?”

Bjorn held the lantern closer. “He hit it once. Chopped at it. Far, he was so weak, how could he do this?”

“Pure ornery willpower,” another man answered.

Several of them laid the body straight, and Rune closed the staring eyes. Onkel Einar, it didn’t need to end this way. You could have . . . Eyes shut and one hand on Einar’s shoulder, all Rune could even think was, Dear God. He swallowed against the shock.

Joe Benson said softly, “Must have been his heart that took him. No blood anywhere.”

Rune agreed. “Or apoplexy. With all those falls, he had a couple of strokes, we think.” He patted Leif’s shoulder as the boy clung to his side.

“Darn fool,” someone else muttered. “Let’s get him back to the cart.”

Together, four of the men lifted Einar while Bjorn and Knute held the lanterns, and they stumbled and staggered their way through the branches and detritus of fallen trees back to the cart, where they laid him in the bed.

Rune blew out a sigh that carried all the ache in his soul with it. Now he had to tell Gerd. Whoever would have thought Einar’s story would end like this?