A Dream to Follow (12 page)

Ingeborg slowed enough to turn into the ranch without tipping or skidding the wagon but picked up the pace again on the straightaway. When she brought the team to a stop at the corral, dust blew in a cloud, and the horses were blowing.

“Manda?”

“Over here against the barn wall in the shade.” Her voice carried an undercurrent of tears.

Mary Martha climbed over the wheel and headed for the gate. “Darlin’, how bad hurt are you?”

The others followed her.

Manda sat in the dirt, tear tracks streaking her cheeks, her right arm cradling her left. “Fool horse.” She glared at the animal, which stood as far away from her as possible. If he could have squeezed through the corral rails and run off, he probably would have. His flicking ears told them he was taking it all in.

Mary Martha knelt beside the girl. But when she reached out to touch the arm, Manda yipped and flinched away, gnawing her lip at the pain.

Ingeborg and Kaaren looked at each other, then back at the shaking girl.

“Mary Martha, come with me,” said Kaaren. “Let’s get the supplies we need. We can set it right here before we move her. We’ll save some pain that way, and it’ll be better for the arm.”

“I ran fast as I could.” Deborah’s lower lip quivered as she stood by her sister.

“I know. Thank you.” Manda, her britches-clad legs straight out in front of her, tried to smile at her little sister. “Could you get my hat, please?” She nodded to the battered lump of felt that looked only remotely like something to be worn on a head.

Ingeborg knelt next to Manda and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of this.” She called over her shoulder. “You better bring the laudanum too. I think we’re going to need it.” Her attention back on the suffering girl, she stroked the hair back off Manda’s sweat-beaded forehead. “Now, Manda, you know I have to look at that arm.”

“I know. But I can’t move it.” Her shoulders curved forward to protect her arm.

“I promise I’ll be careful, but let me probe it. You know I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

A deep sigh preceded the “All right.”

“Show me where it hurts the most.”

“All over, but mostly here.” Manda pointed to midway between the wrist and elbow.

With prayers flying heavenward even as she leaned forward, Ingeborg gently pushed Manda’s shirt sleeve up her arm, then touched the arm with her fingertips. Although already swollen, the flesh gave enough for her to feel the bump. Closing her eyes, she focused on what she was feeling, all the while murmuring soothing words.

Manda gasped, then groaned.

“Easy, hold still.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”
We’re going to have to pull hard to set this. Oh, Lord, have mercy. Give us strength, especially Manda
. Ingeborg tugged a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and handed it to her young friend.

“I . . . I’m not goin’ to lose my arm or some such, am I?” The whisper told of the weight of her fear.

“No, no. It’s just a simple break. People your age heal quickly.”

“How long?” Manda flinched away from Ingeborg’s questing fingers.

“Oh, a few weeks. We can be grateful it wasn’t your neck. What happened?”

“The dog chased a barn cat through the corral, and that fool horse thought it was a cougar, I swear. He went higher’n that barn wall, and I wasn’t hanging on tight enough. When he landed, I took a header.”

“And landed on your arm.” Ingeborg sat back on her heels and glanced up at the barn. “High wall.”

“Seemed it at the time.” Manda sounded more like herself. By the time this story got around, the horse would have jumped clear over the corral poles, if Ingeborg knew anything about Manda’s storytelling abilities. Though she was quiet too much of the time, once she got going on her horses, she’d keep an audience enthralled till the end of the tale.

“Can I get you a dipper of water or something?” Deborah sat beside her sister, her arms clenched around her updrawn knees, her eyes taking up most of her face.

“Bring the whole bucket and pour it over me.”

“Really?”

“Nah, a dipper would be good.” Manda’s eyes followed her sister, as with bare feet flying she headed for the rails, slid between two, and ran to the well. “Scared her right bad.”

“She ran all the way to the church.”

“Poor kid.” But pride shone in Manda’s hazel eyes. Since their ma died and their pa had left for supplies and never returned, the two had been inseparable. Zebulun MacCallister had saved them from dying of starvation on their homestead near the Missouri River and had brought them with him on his own flight that stopped with the folks in Blessing.

Kaaren and Mary Martha returned with the supplies in a basket, along with two pieces of kindling to be bound for the splint. Kaaren poured a couple of glugs from the flat brown bottle into a cup of water and handed it to Manda.

“Drink this. In a couple of minutes you won’t feel any pain at all.”

Manda made a face but drank it all down. She wiped her mouth with the back of her good hand. “Ugh.”

“Now, Manda, Kaaren is going to take your hand, and I’ll hold your elbow. On the count of three we’ll give a hard, steady pull, and please God, that bone will snap right back into place. Then we’ll splint it and wrap it and get you up to the house before you fall sound asleep on us.”

“Don’t got no choice now, do I?”

“Not really.” Kaaren stroked the wisps of dark hair back off the girl’s forehead. “You can scream if you need to. No one to hear but us, and we won’t tell.”

Manda looked to see where Deborah was. “Why don’t you send her to the house for something? She don’t like to see pain. Scares her some bad.”

Mary Martha nodded. “I’ll take care of that.” She handed the stick she’d been wrapping in strips of an old sheet to Ingeborg. “We’ll go get something going for dinner.” She met Deborah at the corral. “Come, we need to get Manda something to eat.”

“But I got the water.” Deborah slipped around the partly open gate and headed for her sister, her gaze tight on the dipper so she wouldn’t spill any water. Only after Manda drank the whole thing did the little girl turn and run back to Mary Martha. “Can we have some molasses cookies? That’s Manda’s favorite.”

“I know.” The two of them headed for the house hand in hand.

“You ready?” Ingeborg asked the injured girl.

Manda nodded. “I feel woozy.”

“Good. That’s the way we want you.” Ingeborg took hold of Manda’s elbow with both hands and Kaaren did the same with the wrist.

“One, two, three.” They both pulled. The grating of the bone sounded worse than fingernails screeching on a blackboard. But with a slight snap, it settled back into place. Manda’s eyes flickered open.

“Done?”

“Done. Hold steady now while we wrap this up.” Ingeborg and Kaaren worked together as they had so many times before in tending to injuries of all kinds. Metiz had passed many of her healing skills on to Ingeborg through the years, and that combined with what her mother had taught her made Ingeborg the closest thing to a doctor in the area. Within minutes they had the arm wrapped and bound close to the girl’s chest with a sling tied around her neck.

“I . . . I don’t think I can walk.” Manda, her eyes out of focus, shook her head.

“We’ll help you.” The two women bent over, Kaaren taking the good arm while Ingeborg put her arm around Manda’s waist. “Again, on three. You get your feet under you, and we’ll help lift.”

By the time they had Manda standing, Ingeborg and Kaaren sighed at the same time. They half carried, half walked the girl through the gate and to the house, navigating the steps with some difficulty, as Manda barely heard their instructions to lift her feet.

“One thing sure,” Kaaren said when they laid the girl on her bed. “She’s not a little girl anymore.”

“No, she’s a young woman, whether she likes to admit it or not.” Mary Martha leaned to pull off Manda’s boots, but Ingeborg gently pushed her out of the way. “You’ve got us to do the heavy work right now, so take advantage of it.”

“I’m just pregnant, not an invalid.”

“I know. Let’s go eat.” They left Manda snoring on her bed, pillows propped against her side to keep her from turning over.

“What about Manda?” Deborah looked from her sister to the women and back.

“She’ll eat when she wakes up.”
And please, God, let that be a long time from now
. Ingeborg glanced back at the sleeping girl. They should have taken her dirty clothes off, but they could do that later.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the wooden steps, and Pastor Solberg burst into the house. “What happened?”

“Manda was thrown by a horse and broke her arm. She’s all set and resting, darlin’, so you can calm down now.” Mary Martha met her husband in the middle of the room. “We’re just goin’ to eat. Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. I came straight here. She’s going to be all right?” He looked to Ingeborg for the answer. At her nod, his sigh could be heard clear to the schoolhouse. “Thank God.”

“I should never have left them. . . .”

“Don’t even think of that. Manda is seventeen years old, a grown woman. Why, many girls her age are married already and starting their families.”

“Speakin’ of families, I need to go back to the church for our babies.”

“What?” Pastor Solberg looked like someone had struck him.

“Don’t worry. They’re being well taken care of,” Ingeborg said.

“I know, but . . .” Mary Martha took in a deep breath and let it all out, then turned to the others. “Come, I have a dinner of sorts on the table. Or rather Deborah does.”

As soon as they’d eaten, Pastor Solberg headed his wagon back to the church for his children, and Ingeborg and Kaaren followed. By the time they’d picked up their supplies and told the story for everyone to exclaim over, the afternoon was half over and it was time for everyone to head for their wagons and go home.

“We didn’t do much quilting today.” Kaaren set her basket in the rear of the wagon beside Ingeborg’s.

“You never know what’s going to happen, that’s for sure. Uff da, that poor child.”

“We better quit calling her a child, you know. I’ve seen the looks she and Baptiste exchange when they think no one is watching.”

“Ja. Astrid said she saw them walking out by the river one day. Baptiste had his gun along but hadn’t shot anything.”

“Hard to see game if you’re only looking at Manda.” Kaaren raised one eyebrow.

“But then, perhaps she is the game he is after.”

“Ach, those poor children. They would receive nothing but censure.” Kaaren raised her hands when Ingeborg turned on the wagon seat. “I know. Not from us, but then everyone doesn’t love Metiz and Baptiste the way we do.”

“As if the color of one’s skin or hair should make any difference.” Ingeborg flipped the reins again so the horses would pick up their feet. “But I heard that comment today about where our quilts go. Made me want to go over and shake her. We, who all have so much compared to others, should be generous.”

“Funny how many of them don’t really think of Metiz as Indian any longer. She’s helped about everyone in Blessing and others for miles around at one time or another.”

“Ja, but there is always the bad apple that rots the barrel.”

CHAPTER TEN

June arrived with no rain in sight.

Thorliff lifted the yoke off the oxen for the final time until haying would start. The sun burned, tanning him through the fabric of his shirt.
With no fieldwork to do after dinner, maybe I can go over and visit with Anji. We could walk down by the river
.

“I think we all need to go fishing,” Haakan said to his sons as h hung the harnesses up on their pegs. “What do you say?”

“I say that’s the best news I’ve had since graduation.” Thorliff too off his wide-brimmed hat to wipe the sweat off his forehead. So much for seeing Anji today. Perhaps tomorrow night.

“Go ask your mor if she wants to go too. Maybe we’ll have a picnic supper with the fish we catch.”

“I will.” Andrew took off for the house before anyone could answer.

Thorliff and Haakan shared the kind of look grown-ups give at the antics of one younger. Pleasure sat on Thorliff ’s shoulders like a purring kitten.

“You’ve worked hard as any man, son. I want you to know I appreciate it. Both of you boys have.” Haakan stretched his arms above his head, then lifted and resettled his hat. “Let’s go eat.” Throwing his arm around Thorliff ’s shoulders, he strode on up to the house with his son at his side. They paused and turned, as if by secret communication, and looked out over the newly seeded fields. In some, the growing wheat softened the black soil with a veil of green. The most recently seeded ground still lay smooth and black, absorbing the sun that would bring the seeds to life.

“Now if only the rains would come, gentle and lasting for a couple of days. Wouldn’t that be the perfect picture?”

“Ja, it would.” Thorliff dipped water, warmed by the sun, into the washbasins lined along the house wall. Towels hung on a rod above the bench, and soap rested in a dish so that none would be wasted. They washed, tossed the wash water over the roses by the front door, and followed their noses into a kitchen redolent with the smell of baking chicken, sage, onion, and bacon to flavor the greens. Biscuit perfume floated over the other aromas like frosting on a cake.