A New Day Rising (19 page)

She slapped her mittened hands against her shoulders and chest. This abominable cold. Just the other day the sheep had been grazing in hock-deep grass, grass that now lay frozen again under the snow. And the violet growing on the south side of the barn? Would it live?

"Don't be silly," she scolded herself, just to hear a human voice. The mule's ears swept back to catch her words, then forward, nearly pricked together at the tips.

"What is it?" Ingeborg sat up high as she could. Was that someone coming on the horizon? She nudged the animal with her heels back into the bone-jarring trot. Leaning back to absorb the jolts, she kept her eyes on the specks. As they drew closer she saw a team of horses, two people riding astride.

The mule brayed, his tone static with the jolting.

A whinny floated back on the wind.

She kicked the mule into a lope. Pounding across the frozen prairie, snow spraying behind her, Ingeborg felt her heart rising right along with the heat from the exertion. Why were they riding? Had something happened to the wagon? She waved a hand above her head.

The riders returned the gesture.

With so many hours behind the plow, she'd recognize her team anywhere. Belle and Bob whinnied again, and the mule answered.

Ingeborg tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wouldn't go either down or up. Surely the misting in her eyes was caused by the bitter wind. "You're alive!" she breathed as they came up to her.

" Ja, thanks to Haakan here." Lars nodded at his partner. "He knew of an abandoned soddy, or we wouldn't have made it through the night."

Ingeborg felt her heart race as she stared into eyes so blue and so familiar. "Mange takk." She couldn't force any other words past the lump.

"Your wagon didn't fare so well." Haakan gestured over his shoulder at the skeleton with wheels.

"Wagons can be rebuilt." She couldn't drag her gaze from his, seeming locked in the blue depths.

"Did you by any chance bring us something to eat?" Lars pointed toward the sacks she had slung in front of her.

"Oh, ja, my goodness." Ingeborg glanced once more at the decrepit wagon, then swung off the mule and promptly collapsed on the ground.

Haakan was off his horse and to her almost before she hit the ground. "Ach, woman, how long since you've walked? Your feet are probably frozen clear through." Clutching her elbows, he raised her to stand in front of him, holding her against his chest for support.

Ingeborg prided herself on standing on her own two feet. For the past year, she'd proven to herself and the world that she could. But now the comfort of this man's arms drew her like a candle burning in a window to welcome home a long lost traveler. She tried stamping her feet but felt nothing from the knees down. She moved them again, leaning into the strength of Haakan's arms to hold her upright. Wriggling her toes in her boots did her in. Each movement brought the stabbing of miniature knives.

"Oh." She clamped her teeth against the pain.

"Feeling is returning?" She nodded, unable to talk for fear she would cry.

"Good."

Good that the feeling was returning but not good the pain. God in heaven, please help me. She clutched Haakan's coat and buried her face in his lapels.

"Here." Lars took one of the quilts from the mule's back and wrapped it around her. "We can be thankful your feet have feeling. Last night Haakan kept me walking to get the blood returning. I know how painful it is."

"Ja." Ingeborg blinked her eyes. She would endure it, such a minor price to pay and such rejoicing she felt. The men were alive! "I brought you coffee. It is cold by now, but there are coals and some wood if you want to start a fire. There are biscuits in the sack, too."

"Inge, you are a woman above women." Lars kissed her windburned cheek and retrieved the tied sacks. "What made you come out to look for us?"

"I couldn't let you die if I could do anything about it." A mighty shiver racked her from head to toe.

"Well, let's put this wood to good use. We'll all get through the trip home better with something hot in our bellies and a little warmth on the outside, too." Lars kicked a patch of ground free of snow, removed the bucket with the coals, then set it to the side while he used Haakan's ax to shave some curls off the wood. Within minutes he had a fire blazing merrily.

Ingeborg hated to leave the warm strong arms of the man who held her. She looked up to see Haakan Bjorklund's eyes gazing down at her. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and crinkled the edges of his eyes.

"Better?" he asked softly.

"Ja." She took a step back, and he released her but kept one hand on her arm to steady her. The wind buffeted her, making her realize anew the shelter he'd provided.

"You ... you ... ah ..." Where had her tongue gone? She couldn't even string six words together. Was her brain frozen as bad as her feet?

"The coffee will be hot in a moment." Lars squatted by the blaze, the coffee pail nestled against the blazing wood. He'd set the biscuits on the last piece of wood so they could warm, too.

"Sorry I didn't bring any cups." Ingeborg kept wriggling her toes in her boots as she held her hands out to the blaze. How wonderful the heat felt. She moved around the fire to stay out of the smoke. The horses stamped and snorted, then dropped their heads to push the snow away and find the grass beneath. The mule did the same, and the sound of grazing along with the snap of the fire and the jingle of the harness as the horses moved made Ingeborg take in a deep breath of relief. Thank you, God in heaven. We have so much to be thankful for.

"Be careful you don't burn your mouth on that tin rim." Lars handed the coffee pail to Haakan. "I tried to keep this side cool enough to drink from, and I know the coffee could be hotter, but why wait?"

Ingeborg felt the heat of the drink puddle clear down to her middle and send tendrils out to the rest of her body. Between the fire outside and the fire within, she felt ready to take on the driving cold of the north wind. Looking up, the thinning clouds allowed the sun to brighten the prairie.

"It may clear." She nodded to the heavens.

"We better be on our way. I'd like to come back for our supplies before the vermin help themselves."

"Or someone steals them," Haakan added.

"That, too, but folks are pretty honest around here. If you get caught on the prairie and find a house with no one home, you are welcome to help yourself to what is there. That's the law of survival out here. With everyone living so far apart, visitors are always treated like long lost relatives, or better," Lars said with a grin. He looked inside the coffee pail. "There's a last swallow here; you take it." He handed the pail to Haakan. "Amazing how good coffee and a biscuit tastes after a night in a blizzard."

"I know one thing, I'll make sure there is a bucket or some such along whenever I travel this prairie again. If I could have gotten some hot liquid into you last night, you'd have fared better. And the horses too." Haakan scooped snow into the pail and set it in the middle of the fire. "Even a swallow or two now will help them along."

Before long, they were on their way. Ingeborg looked back to see the black circle left in the white prairie. They would have made it home without her, but she didn't regret coming to look for them. If she was lucky, she wouldn't lose any toes either. Frostbite happened so quickly. Lars might lose the end of his nose and his toes as well. Then they would have to keep the gangrene from setting in. She thought ahead to her store of medicinals. What herbs and barks and roots might restore circulation to frostbitten flesh? If only Metiz were back, she would know. Onion or bread poultice for drawing? Soaking in salt water?

About an hour later, Lars made them all dismount and walk around. This time the knives returned as soon as her feet hit the ground. That was good news no matter how painful.

As they neared home, Paws came bounding across the prairie to greet them, his joyful barking bringing Kaaren and Thorliff out the door in a rush.

Kaaren flew across the melting snow and into Lars' arms, knocking him backward into Belle's bay shoulder. "Easy, woman, easy." He held her close, murmuring into her ear as she clung to his waist.

"What happened to the wagon?" Thorliff looked up at Haakan, his eyes round with wonder.

"We cut it up for firewood." Haakan dismounted from Bob's back and stood for a moment to get his feet working. He handed the reins to Thorliff. "I'll get these two unhitched, and you can take them over to the well for a long drink. If there's enough water in the reservoir, we'll pour it over their grain and maybe even add some molasses, if there is any. These two deserve a treat."

"Where are all the supplies?" Thorliff held the reins but followed Haakan around the traces.

"In an abandoned soddy." Haakan snapped the traces back up on the harness ring and crossed the tongue to do the other horse. "There now, off you go. I'll be right with you."

"Dinner's ready when you are." Kaaren wiped her eyes on the corner of her apron and sniffed once again. "Oh, poor Andrew! I left him tied to the chair, eating a crust of bread." She darted back to the soddy door and disappeared inside.

Ingeborg led the mule after the team, her feet feeling like lead weights now.

"Here, let me take him." Lars took the reins from her.

Ingeborg nodded. She lifted the quilts and the sacks from the animal's back. Silly, she chided herself. Now that all is well, I wish I could cry for a week. Silly is right. But that old fear was gnawing at her mind. If she started crying, would she ever be able to stop?

jelmer hated the foundry from the first moment he saw it.

" It is just a job," he promised himself. "For only a short time. You can endure anything for a little while." He sniffed and coughed on the smoke-saturated air. "As soon as you have the rest of the money for a train ticket, you can leave for Dakota."

The man that walked past him and into the foundry gave him a look that questioned his sanity for talking to himself.

Hjelmer felt like returning the rude look with one of his own. So he was talking to himself. Better than running for the river and throwing himself in as he'd seen someone do from the bridge the day before. This time he didn't try to save the man. If the fellow wanted a quick entrance into the next world, so be it. Life or death, that was his own choice.

And if he hadn't played the hero in saving the child, he wouldn't be trapped in New York without enough money for his train ticket. He'd be on his way to the Bjorklund homesteads in Dakota Territory, where the grass grew green and the sky wore a gown of blue, not smudged gray. Here the only way to tell the sun was shining was to locate the silver disk hanging somewhere in the sky. It gave light but little warmth. He pulled his coat more tightly around him.

Nothing to do but go find the man. Mrs. Holtensland had a friend that owned the foundry and had begged a job for her immigrant hero. He was to ask for Einer Torlakson. She'd said at least the man spoke Norwegian. Hjelmer pushed open the door to the cavernous building, the incessant clanging of hammer on metal from rows of forges creating a cacophony of sound fit to split one's head or drive one deaf in short order. Smoke hung in the air, bellows pumped the acrid smell of burning charcoal, and bright eyes of blaz ing fire waited for the metal it tried to devour but only heated whitehot. Monstrous steam engines provided power for the drill presses, shears, and sizes, all run by the drive shaft that ran the length of the building. Belts slapping, clutches squealing of metal on metal; the noise shrilled of progress in its most basic form.