Chapter
31

We will bury him at the foot of one of those big trees he was so obsessed with.” Dry-eyed, Gerd stared blankly at her coffee mug, her face cut out of stone.

“Ja, Gerd, if that’s what you want,” Rune said with a nod. “I know just the one, where his grave will not be disturbed.”

“In the morning.”

Signe couldn’t help her shock. “Don’t you want to—to prepare him?” she asked.

Gerd shook her head. “Bury him the way he lived, boots and all.” She stopped. “I guess we should wrap him in a sheet.” Looking to Rune, she continued, “You want to read some words over him?”

“I—I thought to bring out Reverend Skarstead.”

“Makes no sense. Einar despised the man and all he stands for.”

Signe laid a hand on Gerd’s arm. “Are you sure? I mean, sure of what he believed?”

“All he wanted was to fell trees.”

“To earn money for this farm and for us to live here,” Rune added softly.

“I think he hated those trees.” It was as if she’d not heard him.

Signe stared at the woman caught in the circle of lamplight. The young ones had gone to bed, leaving the adults around the table. Ivar had included himself with the younger set and gone upstairs to sleep. “Hated the trees? That’s what he lived for.”

“He wanted to farm, but the trees were in the way.”

“But . . .” Rune shook his head. “I guess that is not important anymore, is it? He did what he did.”

“And now I—” Gerd looked at each of them. “We get to clean up the mess.” Her head wagged as if too heavy for her shoulders. “Takk.” She pushed herself up from the table and made her slow way to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway. “The best thing he ever did was bring all of you here. The very best.” She stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

“I feel guilty leaving his body out there in the cart.” Rune gazed down at the table. “At least I put it in the machine shop. I mean, what if a wild animal . . . ?”

Signe sniffed. “But this is her choice, and we need to help her all we can.” She covered his restless hand with her own. Lord, help this man of mine to do the best thing. This is all so strange.

On the other side of him, Nilda covered his other hand. “And you, my brother. You do not need to carry this load all alone. We are here, and God said He never leaves us, so He must be here too.”

“But she doesn’t even want Reverend Skarstead to conduct a simple ceremony. Will she regret that someday?” He shook his head. “I—I’m not qualified to do that.”

Nilda and Signe looked at each other. “Do we need to tell the sheriff or someone that he died?” Signe asked.

“Joe Benson said he would tell the reverend and the sheriff.”

“So then what?”

Rune shoved back his chair, arms rigid on the table edge. “Now we go to bed. Tomorrow will be a new day. We will bury him as Gerd requested, I will read a passage and say a few words, and may God rest his soul.”

Halfway through the night, Rune sat up and rubbed his head.

Oh, my husband. Signe sat up beside him. “What is it?”

“You go back to sleep. I am going to the machine shed.”

“Why?”

“I need to make a marker until we can carve a headstone.”

“I see.” She lay back down. “Be careful.” Unsure why she had said that, she drifted back to sleep.

Breakfast was subdued. Even Kirstin was quiet, as if she recognized the gravity of the morning. Rune and the boys left to do the chores.

“Gerd, is there something special we can do for you today?” Signe asked.

Gerd looked up from her cup of coffee, shaking her head. “Not that I can think of. We will do what we have to do, and then we will go on with our day. I thought to bake cookies for the boys. They really like my cookies. If you would like to help me clean my bedroom, that would be good.”

“Then that is what we will do.” Nilda nodded. “We could start on that now while you bake cookies. If that is all right with you.”

Gerd looked from one to the other, then leaned slightly forward. “Listen to me. Yes, I am sad today, not only because Einar died this way, but because he chose to live the way he did. That is sad.” She paused for a deep breath that seemed to catch in her throat. “He missed out on the important things of life, and he made me miss them too. I think I almost hated him at times for the way . . . the way he treated people. But thanks to him, I now have my family around me, and I will not live that way of his ever again.” She looked at each of them and grasped their hands. “I—I wish he . . .”

Kirstin’s baby babble was the only sound in the room until Gra wrapped herself around their legs, her plaintive meow a counterpoint to the baby music.

Gerd spoke each word distinctly. “I wish he could have known this.” She squeezed their hands again and shook her head slowly from side to side. “That is the saddest part of all.”

“That tree over there.” Rune pointed to a thirty-foot white pine west of their new home. Einar had deemed it too small to cut for sale. Someday there would be pasture or planted fields around it. It seemed appropriate that Einar would rest in the shade of a pine tree.

Bjorn stopped the team, and they all climbed out to drag the pick and shovels from the wagon bed. Rune paced off the plot, digging in a mark at the corners with his heel.

“Let’s see if two people can dig at once.” Rune started in the middle and hit a rock just under the surface. “I’ll move back here. Bjorn, see if you can dislodge that rock.”

While the boys worked on the rock, Rune moved to the head of the grave and dug in at the line. The rock proved to be larger than he had expected, so when they rolled the stone away, they had a sizable hole already. As soon as sweat started down one face, they switched diggers, and someone else would use the pick to loosen the dirt. The rock pile grew.

“We’ll pile these stones on top to keep any wild animals from digging him up,” Rune said.

“What animal would dig this deep?” Ivar wiped the sweat from his face with his shirttails.

“Just not taking chances.”

When the hole reached the six-foot mark, Rune helped pull Bjorn out of it. “You all did a fine job.”

They paused to stare down into the hole. Leif leaned his head on Rune’s arm. Rune didn’t say let’s get this over with aloud, but the words crowded his mind. Cruel as Einar had been, Rune had realized long ago that he could not carry bitterness at the treatment they had received.

He looked at Leif, who was staring down into the grave. “What is it, son?”

“I never saw him smile.” A tear trickled down Leif’s cheek. He looked up at Rune. “Maybe Tante Gerd will smile more now.”

“Knowing you, Leif, I am sure you will help her smile. Let’s go back to the house.”

“I don’t think he liked us much.”

Knute laid a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “Onkel Einar didn’t like anybody.”

At the machine shed, Knute whistled for Rosie, the only horse that came when called. The other horses dropped their heads and went back to grazing, and Knute had to go to them with the bridles and bring the old team to the barn. Leif led Rosie to the rail by the barn, and Bjorn settled the harness on her back. Together they hitched her to the cart, which still held Einar’s body.

Ivar drove the team to the house, so the women—Signe carrying Kirstin, and Gerd, the sheet—could climb into the wagon bed. Without a word, they followed the cart to the grave site.

Stiff as the tree above them, with her arms locked across her middle, Gerd stared into the hole. Signe, eyes closed, her prayers for peace bombarding the heavens, gently swayed her sleeping daughter. Nilda stood on the other side of Gerd, blinking back tears as she gently patted the older woman’s shoulder.

A crow flew by and settled at the top of the pine tree, an overseer in black.

A slight breeze lifted a lock of Signe’s hair as she listened to the men lower the body into its resting place. Leif came to stand beside her and leaned into her for comfort. His sniffs brought on more of her own. Dear God, please. She could think of nothing else to say.

Rune took his place at the head of the grave and opened the Bible that Nilda handed him. The rustle of dirt sliding into the hole was drowned out by the warning calls of more crows in the trees, the loudest at the top of the sheltering pine.

“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’” Rune’s voice stilled the crows, and the words calmed the hearts of those around him. “‘He maketh me lie down in green pastures and leadeth me beside still waters.’” He paused and cleared his throat. “‘He-he restoreth my soul.’” Knute shifted beside him. Rune stumbled again on. “‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .’”

Signe chewed on her bottom lip, eyes swimming with tears, as she watched and heard her husband struggle with the reading. I will fear no evil, for thou art with me floated in her mind as the quiet stretched. Poor Rune. Help him please, Lord God.

“‘For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.’” Rune’s voice grew stronger and more sure. “‘Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou annointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.’”

First Signe and then, one by one, the others joined Rune in reciting the psalm. “‘Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’”

Rune paused.

Nilda used her apron to wipe her eyes.

“Amen. I pray you rest in peace, Onkel Einar. Thank you for bringing us to Amerika and teaching us how to fell the big pines. For giving us a home. I hope we do you honor as we continue with what you started.” Rune looked around at his family. “Do any of you want to say something?” When they all shook their heads, he bent down and picked up a handful of dirt to sprinkle in the grave. “Einar Strand, you have fallen like one of your big pines. Dust to dust, may our Lord have mercy upon us all. Amen.”

Leif looked up at his mor. “Is Onkel Einar up in heaven now?”

Signe caught Rune’s sad look. “I hope so, son. I hope so.”

After Rune tossed in the first shovelful, Ivar and Bjorn took up shovels too, and the grave began to fill. Rune picked up the hammer and a board to which he’d nailed sharpened legs. The hammer’s thud drove the sign solidly into the ground. He had chipped the name Einar Strand and the date on it. When finished, he stepped back and nodded.

Leif slipped his hand into Gerd’s and smiled up at her. “I smelled the cookies.”

“Ja, I baked them for you boys especially.”

“But we will all have cookies, and then we can have dinner?”

Gerd frowned. “Shouldn’t dinner come first?”

He hung his head. “I guess.”

“But not today.”

“Takk.” He squeezed her hand, his grin beatific.

They walked to the wagon, where Nilda helped Gerd up to the seat. “No sitting in back for you today, Tante Gerd.”

Leif climbed up on the seat. “Far said I could drive.” He turned the team in a circle and headed back to the farmstead.

They’d gone only a short distance when Gerd asked him to stop. She turned in her seat and looked back at where the others were piling rocks on the mounded grave. Then, shaking her head, she turned back. “We probably need to put a fence around that sometime.”

Back at the house, they found a frosted cake, a basket of rolls, a jar of honey, and a jar of pickles on the table. On the stove, which had been fed, sat a pot of stew, set back to heat but not burn.

“Would you look at that?” Gerd looked around the room. “Who do you suppose . . . ?”

“Oh, I have a feeling about who’s behind this. Bless that woman’s heart.” Signe laid an arm around Gerd’s shoulders. “I think she plans to make sure you feel like part of this community.”

“Mrs. Benson?”

“Ja. She probably recruited help, but I am sure she’s behind it.”

“Einar never had a good word about her. Well, not about anyone, really. Hmm.”

After the late dinner courtesy of Mrs. Benson, the men and boys all headed for the new house, and the women returned to the bedroom. The thin mattress now hung on the clothesline, the dust beaten out of it, along with the summer blanket. The curtains and sheets awaited the washing machine.

Nilda finished washing the bed frame and Signe the windows. “Let’s do the dresser next,” Nilda suggested. “Gerd, where do you want me to put the clothes?”

“We’ll keep Einar’s things for the others, and I’ll stack mine on the chairs and put them back when the drawers are dry again. I think I’ll take the drawers out onto the porch to wash them.”

Gerd brought the chair from the window closer and pulled open the top drawer. Tossing the holey socks, handkerchiefs, and a stocking hat she had knit for Einar years ago in a pile by the door, she set a small box and some papers on top of the dresser, often shaking her head. A deerskin pouch that jingled joined the box. Long johns, drawers, and another pair of pants, along with three folded shirts were added to the pile. She placed her clean underthings on the chair and heaved a sigh, then moved to the next drawer.

“Let me carry those out.” Nilda lifted a drawer in each hand.

As she headed out of the room, Gerd yelped. “Wait!”

“What?”

Eyes wide, Gerd pointed to the bottom of one of the drawers. “I never saw that before.”

“What is it?” Nilda bent over and dug at the paper glued to the wood. When it came away, she handed it to Gerd.

Gerd held the sheet of paper in her hand for a moment. “I think it is time for coffee. While it heats, we will look through all that.” She nodded to the collection on top of the dresser, then scooped it all into her apron and dumped it on the kitchen table.

Nilda hauled the drawers to the porch while Signe wrapped a cloth around the broom and dusted the ceiling and walls, driving out a couple of spiders in the process.

“We need to do the wash tomorrow.” Nilda pumped herself a glass of water and leaned against the sink counter to drink it. “And take what’s left of the stew and milk to the well house.”

“After we go through this.” Gerd shoved wood into the stove and opened the damper on the chimney so the fire would heat the coffee more quickly.

Baby babbling announced that Kirstin had awakened. Instead of getting demanding, she waved her feet in the air, trying to catch them with pudgy hands.

When they were seated, coffee and cookies in front of them, Gerd sucked in a deep breath and reached for the box first. “Einar kept his cash in here and in the pouch.” Opening the lid, she lifted out a pile of paper money and handed it to Signe. “You count that, please, and Nilda, the pouch of coins.” At their nods, she lifted out folded papers, envelopes, and a small leather bound ledger. She sorted through the papers, making a pile of letters, one of bills, and another of receipts.

“One hundred and two dollars,” Signe reported.

“Twelve dollars in change plus four silver dollars, for sixteen dollars and forty-five cents,” Nilda added.

Gerd nodded. “This is what we buy groceries and other supplies with until we sell the trees next spring.”

“Can trees be sold in the fall?” Signe asked.

“Ja, but it is far better to haul them in the winter while the ground is frozen and skids can be used in the snow.”

“Are there any other bills to pay?”

Gerd flipped through another stack. “These are all paid for now. But we will get cash for selling weaner pigs now, and in the fall, butchered hogs.”

“And logs if we need to.”

“Ja. But what we do need, we can put on the account at Benson’s. Your butter and eggs help with that bill, you know.” Gerd eyed the packet that had been glued to the bottom of the drawer. “The old fox.”

“Any idea what is in it?” Signe pushed the plate of cookies nearer to Gerd. The baby noises were changing from happy to hungry. “I better see to little miss over there before she turns louder.”

Bending over the baby bed, Signe received a grin that crinkled baby eyes and moisted her own. “You sure are having fun with those toesies.” She took hold of one little foot and moved it in a circle. Kirstin kicked with the other and waved her hands. A stream of definite sounds made it seem like she was carrying on a conversation. Signe picked up her daughter, and the two of them chattered back and forth as she changed the diaper and settled into the rocker to nurse her. “Well, look at that. Two teeth. Where did you find those? I tell you, you better be careful with those teeth, or your mor will take away the fountain here.”

With Kirstin settled, Signe laid her head back on the chair. How could so much happen in so little time? She thought of something her mor said often. “Life can change in the blink of an eye, and most times we have no control over it.” It certainly had.

“Well, I’ll be. . . .”

Gerd’s whisper snapped Signe’s eyes open again. “What?”

Gerd and Nilda were staring at each other. “There’s five hundred dollars here. I never knew he had that. It must be from the sale of logs, but why hide it like this?”

“How long do you think it has been there?” Nilda pointed at the faded paper.

Gerd fanned the money out in her hand. “I have no idea. But I know one thing. This could pay off what you owe on your house.”

Signe smiled while shaking her head. “Rune will never go for that.”

“There are always ways to get around stubborn.” Gerd pushed her chair back from the table and closed the box lid with all the money and papers inside. “Let’s get that bedroom done so we can start supper. Not that we have to cook much, thanks to Mrs. Benson.”

With that, Gerd took a pan of hot, soapy water out onto the porch to wash the drawers.

Nilda and Signe swept the floor and wiped down the inside and outside of the chest of drawers. “Let’s move it over so we can sweep and scrub this part of the floor too.” Together they hefted the dresser and moved it several feet along the wall. Signe swept while Nilda went for a bucket of hot soapy water to scrub the floor.

“Gerd, I think you better come here,” Signe called.

“Just a minute, nearly done.”

“Okay, but . . .”

Nilda set the bucket, brush, and rags on the floor. “What is that?”

“Maybe nothing, but I have a sneaky notion. What if . . . ?”

Gerd came into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. “Now what?”

Signe pointed to a short floor board that had warped enough to raise on one end. “You ever noticed that before?”

“No. We’d better get it nailed down.”

Signe knelt and tried to lift the board with her fingertips. “Get me a knife, please.” Nilda slapped one into her hand. After prying up the board, Signe stared down into the dark hole. “There is a box down here, a metal box.” She looked up at Gerd. “It seems Einar left another surprise for you.”