A Dream to Follow (11 page)

“Far as I know.” Mary Martha leaned in closer, her words for their ears alone. “I have good news. We had a letter from Zebulun.” Back in ’89 her brother had left for Montana to round up horses after his wife, Katy Bjorklund, died in childbirth. The baby didn’t live either, adding to Bridget Bjorklund’s deep grief at the death of her youngest daughter. They rarely heard from Zeb, only enough to know he was still alive. He’d taken up homesteading in Montana, writing that his farm in Blessing held too many sad memories.

“What did he have to say for himself?” Ingeborg knew her tone carried a bite to it, but watching his two adopted daughters grieve not only Katy but him too made her want to grab the young man and shake him.

“He loves the mountains and the valleys, his horses are doing well, and . . .” She paused, eyes twinkling. “He’s coming back to visit.”

“When?”

“This summer. He’s bringin’ a herd of horses to sell.” When she got excited, Mary Martha’s Missouri accent grew more pronounced. “I reckon he’ll leave some here for Manda to train for him. That girl has such a gift with horses, I swain?”

At the arch of Kaaren’s eyebrows, Mary Martha broke into laughter. “Forgive me. I nigh to forgot where I am.
I swain
is a bit like you sayin’
you know
, but you always put a question mark after.”

Kaaren and Ingeborg exchanged questioning looks. “Do you think she is saying we talk funny?” Ingeborg asked.

“Lawsie, Miz Bjorklund, where all would she get such an idea?” Kaaren, in spite of her Norwegian accent, slipped into a perfect imitation of Mary Martha’s drawling speech.

“You two!” Mary Martha laughed along with them, drawing other gazes their way.

“Sorry I’m late.” Penny Bjorklund blew into the room like a human tornado. She set her baskets on the table and waved her greetings. “God dag. Did I miss anything?”

Ingeborg and Kaaren shrugged while Mary Martha shook her head. “Nothin’ other than Zeb is comin’ home with a herd of horses.”

“Well, my land, about time. Did he say anything about, you know, someone coming with him?”

“Like as in a female, perhaps a wife?”

Penny smiled, all innocence. “That’s exactly what I meant. Thank you, Ingeborg, for clarifying that.” She smiled around the room. “Are we having our meeting first or quilting?”

“I thought we should set up, then have devotions, then quilt, and have our meeting while we eat.” Mrs. Valders, her black felt hat pinned to cover her receding hairline, looked around for anyone who disagreed. With a nod that set her two chins to quivering, she finished. “That’s settled then. Who would like to start at the frames and who wants to cut?”

As women volunteered for each job, their laughter and discussion set the church to ringing. Those with small children left them in the care of Ellie Wold, Goodie’s ten-year-old daughter. One young mother nursed her baby, then laid her in a basket at the edge of the room. As the other children were herded out to play, peace floated into the room like a welcome guest, and voices settled more into murmurs.

“I sure would love to have Kaaren read to us while we stitch,” Mrs. Odell from over at the quilting frame said wistfully. “I do love to be read to.”

“Me too,” said another. “The only reading I hear is Thomas, and second graders don’t read real smooth yet.” She gulped. “Sorry. It’s not that he’s not reading good for a second grader, you know.”

Chuckles rose like soap bubbles popping.

“I would be glad to read.” Kaaren set her flatiron back on the stove and left her ironing board to retrieve her Bible from her basket. “Any favorite passages today?”

“I do love Psalm 91.” Goodie pushed her needle through the three layers of material and wool batting with her thimble.

“Anyone else?”

“First John.”

After a couple more suggestions, Kaaren, the sun glinting off her braided hair as if she wore a crown of gold or perhaps a halo, opened her Bible and paused. “Shall we pray first?” As the women bowed their heads and silence settled over the room, she began. “Our Father in heaven, we thank you for your house where we can come together. We thank you for the work before us and the blessings our quilts have been to those less fortunate than we. We thank you for sending your Son to live and die here on this earth that we might have eternal life. Oh, Lord, most holy, please fill us with your love and joy. In Jesus’ precious name we pray, amen.” The amen whispered around the room like the rustle of willow leaves in the breeze.

Needles darted in and out, flatirons pushed out wrinkles, and scissors snipped away as Kaaren read of sheltering in the shadow of the most high God and how God called them his beloved children.

Mrs. Magron, her nose twitching like the mouse she resembled, sighed. “I do love how He tells us to love one another. Sometimes . . .” She paused and sighed again. “Sometimes that ain’t the easiest thing on this earth.”

Ingeborg and Agnes glanced at each other with a slight nod that said they were thinking the same thing. Even in the most forgiving terms, Mr. Magron would not be described as loving. Not that he was cruel, or at least they hoped not, but he never had a good word to say about anyone or anything. At least he didn’t carry on about it like some others they knew, but still . . .

“I’m a’goin’ to make sure I call on her this summer, maybe invite her and the mister over for supper.” Agnes, her once round face now more bone than flesh, nodded as she whispered, “Get so tied up in my own things, I forget about her.”

Ingeborg reached over and patted her friend’s hand. Agnes and Joseph Baard had come to the area not long after the Bjorklund brothers, and the women had been friends ever since the first time they met, back when they were both a lot younger. “You always do so much more than most of us anyway.”

“Look who’s talking.”

At a disapproving glance from Mrs. Valders, who liked things just so, they returned to their cutting, sharing a secret smile.

God, what is happening with my friend? Are you not listening to our prayers for her health? She looks like something is eating her alive from the inside out, and while I know she wanted another baby, the swelling I see isn’t new life growing inside of her
. Ingeborg kept her attention to the quilt pieces she was cutting out, for she knew if she looked at Agnes again, she would burst into tears. And
that
would be entirely unseemly.

“Ingeborg, are you all right?” Penny leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“Ja, I will be.”

Kaaren’s voice leant music to the words as she concluded her Bible reading with the Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount. “ ‘Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek. . . . ’ ”

When Kaaren closed her Bible, thank-you’s skipped around the room, and those at the quilting frames switched places with those working at something else. The treadle of the sewing machine beat out the time as the needle blurred up and down.

“Can we have cookies now?” One of the children called from the doorway.

“Yes, I suppose it’s time.” One of the mothers rose and, taking a basket outside, let her son pass the cookies around. At the same time, Penny stood and took up the coffeepot, then motioned to Ingeborg to bring the tray of cups. Together they made the rounds so that everyone had coffee and cookies.

The fragrance of hot coffee mingled with that of the beef and noodle soup simmering on the back of the stove, all seasoned with a dollop of laughter and rising like a veil of incense before the altar. A child shrieked in play outside, and the chant of “Red rover, red rover, send Amy right over” made more than one woman smile.

“So when is the baby due?” Ingeborg set the tray down and turned to Penny.

“In September. I’ve been afraid to say anything, you know, afraid I might lose one again.”

“I thought that might be what was keeping you silent. But you look wonderful this time, not like the others.”

“Mange takk. Now . . .” She rolled her eyes so that Ingeborg nodded and smiled.

“Those first months can be pretty miserable for some.”

Penny laid her hand over the beginning mound under her apron. “I believe we are finally going to have a baby to lay in the cradle Onkel Olaf made so long ago.”

“It’s been put to good use.”

“I know. The Johnson baby outgrew it and then the Solbergs’ little Johnny. One thing is sure, we all put things to good use around here.”

“Well, Metiz told me some time ago that this time you would carry the baby to full term. I didn’t even realize you were that way again.” Ingeborg cupped one hand under her elbow as she sipped from the cup of coffee she’d poured herself.

“I wish she would come to these meetings.”

“Me too, but even after all these years she doesn’t feel really welcomed by everyone.”

Penny nodded and lowered her voice, leaning closer to Ingeborg’s ear. “I heard someone mention that it was a shame all our lovely work went to cover some lazy Indian who couldn’t be bothered to take good care of anything.”

Ingeborg squinted her eyes. “Still going on about that, eh? I think we better have Kaaren read about the sheep and the goats again. We seem to need regular reminders that there, but for the grace of God, go I.”
And why do I have no doubt who’s been saying such a thing? Oh, Lord, preserve us
.

At a sound they both turned toward the window. Was that someone screaming or was it one of the children playing? They listened again and just as they were about to dismiss it as one of the little ones, the scream came again.

“Ma-a-a!”

Ingeborg flew to the door to see the now quiet children staring out across the land. She took the steps running and rounded the corner of the church to look to the north. “Mary Martha,” she called back, “it’s Deborah!”

CHAPTER NINE

“It’s Ma . . . Manda. . . .” Deborah collapsed into Ingeborg’s arms, out of breath from running as fast as she could.

Mary Martha charged down the steps. “What is it? Deborah, what?”

“M-Manda.”

“I’ll get the team.” Ingeborg handed the child to her mother and headed for the hitching rail. “Someone go find Pastor.” With shaking fingers she slipped the knots, bridled the horses, and leaped into the wagon, all the while muttering, “God help us. God help us. Please, God, take care of Manda.” She backed the horses and turned them, aiming to circle the church and head north.

“Kaaren, you come too.” Mary Martha and Deborah climbed up the wheel.

“It’s her arm. A horse threw her,” Deborah said, having finally caught her breath.

“Is she bleeding?” Ingeborg asked the little girl.

“No, not in the arm, but here.” Deborah pointed to a spot on her forehead. “But not bad.”

“The bone isn’t sticking out of her arm?” Ingeborg slapped the reins. “Giddup.” When they only trotted slowly, she slapped the reins again.

“No. But she can’t move it. And it hurts somethin’ fierce. Manda never cries.”

“But she did this time?” Mary Martha clutched the little girl close.

“She screamed, Ma, then cried and said some bad words.” Deborah, shock written all over her slender face, stared up at the woman who was really her aunt but had taken over the care of the girls when their father, Zeb, left home.

Ingeborg kept her gaze on the team and the road. “Where is she now?”

“She was sittin’ up against the corral fence. She sure be mad at that horse.” Deborah leaned into Mary Martha’s side. “I didn’t take time to catch the horse or nothin’. I just ran hard as I could.”

“Do you have bandages rolled?” Kaaren asked from her place right behind the wagon seat. “If it’s broken, we’ll have to set it.”

“Yes, I always keep some of different widths. We haven’t needed them much.”

“Good. And some willow bark for tea will help with the pain.”

“I have some that Metiz left when the baby was born. And we have some spirits too, if we need them. And laudanum.”

“Where is Pastor today?”

“He had some folks to call on south of town. Dropped me and the babies off at the church and said he’d be back in time for dinner.” Mary Martha slapped her forehead. “I ran off and left the babies. Thomas is going to be screaming hungry when he wakes up.”

“Someone else will nurse him. He won’t starve.”

“Land sakes, what is Mrs. Valders going to have to say about all this?”

Ingeborg and Kaaren looked at each other, eyes wide, jaws tight, and lips rolled inward, fighting off the laughter that threatened to erupt in the otherwise stressful moment.

Mary Martha sent Ingeborg a sideways glance. “Not that I’m afraid of her or any such thing.”

That did it. Ingeborg lost control first. She tried to turn her snort into a cough, but that snort was mighty stubborn and snort it stayed. Kaaren’s chuckle perched in the back of her throat as if she were trying to swallow it. Tears brimmed her eyes at the effort. But they made the mistake of looking at each other, and they could disguise their mirth no longer.

“I don’t for the life of me see what y’all are laughin’ at. I reckon you might’ve lost your minds.” But a giggle escaped her too, and Deborah, after looking at each of the women as if trying to figure out who was the looniest, giggled along with the others.