A New Day Rising (32 page)

Ingeborg tousled Thorliff's hair. "If he isn't quiet, he and I will take a walk till the fish jump on your line."

"I'll get the worms." Thorliff leaped off his chair and out the door without touching the floor.

Ingeborg looked up to see Haakan staring at her, nodding slightly.

"What?"

"You are a good mother, Ingeborg Bjorklund."

"Mange takk." Their gaze remained locked.

"Mor, down!" Andrew broke the tension, his heels drumming on the chair.

Ingeborg leaned forward and untied the towel she had wrapped around the child's waist. She lifted him down, all without losing eye contact with the man sitting at the end of the table.

"I ... I-" She slapped her hands on the table and rose. "I will pack a box for a picnic." She leaned out the door and said, "Thorliff, watch out for Andrew, he's coming after you."

` ja, I will." The reply came from behind the barn where Ingeborg knew he was digging at the cool edge of the manure pile where the earthworms diligently mixed earth and manure to create a fine soil for raising little worms.

She stepped outside the door to watch Andrew head after his brother. Off to the side of the house, she could hear Hjelmer sloshing water at the wash bench, preparing for his visit to Agnes and Joseph. She smiled to herself. Did he really think they believed he would visit the parents instead of the young woman he'd shown such interest in?

The breeze fanned her warm face. Why was it every time she got in an eye duel with Haakan she had this inordinate need for fresh air? Was it because she forgot to breathe? Or because she wanted to go closer and knew such a move to be dangerous?

Her practical side took over. Dangerous for what? He was just a kinsman who had come to help out for the summer. When fall came, he would return to the north woods, and she most likely would never see him again. She would write his mother and tell her mange takk for encouraging her son to come help, and someday his mother would write and say her son had married, and-- -- - - - - - - - - - -

She cut off the thought and laid a hand over her heart to still the tiny pain.

While Haakan finished up some chores of his own, she debated what to wear. The britches would be so much easier if she needed to cross logs or marshy places, depending upon where they fished. She reached for the grubby pants, hanging on the row of nails by the bed where she kept her few extra garments. She thought again of his gaze at the breakfast table, so blue, so deep, so ... She left the britches where they hung, and untying the apron from around her waist, she picked up the basket with the food and started for the door.

The tiny bit of mirror she owned caught her eye. She stopped to take a peek. She checked her hair, tucked a few strands back in their proper place, made sure' she had no smudges on her face, and sighed. What was the matter with her? It certainly wasn't necessary to pinch her cheeks to make them pink, the sun had done plenty of that already.

She sighed again. If creamy white skin, perfect hair, and soft hands were what drew a man's fancy, she failed on all accounts. And on top of that, she spoke her own mind. She could see her mor shaking her head and muttering prayers for the sake of her daughter. She'd seen it many times, too many to count. And at that point, she'd never in her life donned britches. If she only knew, poor Mor.

Ingeborg plunked her straw hat on her head and marched out the door. "Andrew, where are you?"

Her two boys had come around the corner of the barn by the time she reached the middle of the yard and was about to call again.

"See, Mor, worm." Andrew clutched a fat, wriggling one in three pudgy fingers. The worm squirmed and looped itself over his fingers, making the little boy squeal in delight.

"Don't let Andrew eat that." Ingeborg leaped forward and grabbed the worm just as it reached her son's mouth. "Thorliff, you know he puts everything in his mouth."

"I know."

"You know what?" Ingeborg stared at her elder son's face.

"I know he puts everything in his mouth." He made a gagging sound.

"He didn't." Ingeborg scooped up the grinning baby. "Andrew, did you eat a worm?"

"Worm." Andrew giggled. "Worm."

She pried his jaw open. Traces of dirt lingered at the corners of his smiling lips and a bit on his tongue. Ingeborg closed her eyes. He did. He ate the worm. She forced herself not to gag.

"I'm sorry, Mor. He ate it before I could grab him."

"Worm good." Andrew opened his mouth again.

"If this child lives to be five, it will be a miracle." She took him back in the house to wash his face, but when she tried to wash out his mouth, he only swallowed the water anyway, so she stopped. What good would washing his mouth do when he'd already swallowed a worm with all the dirt that went along with it?

"Oh, Lord, please remember your words about it's not what goes into the mouth that defiles a man but what comes out. Please protect this innocent child from what he has eaten." She put on a stern expression. "Andrew, worms are not to be eaten. Do not eat worms. You hear me?"

"Mor." His cheery face fell at the tone of her voice. His chin quivered, and he hung his head. "Worm."

"No worms."

A fat tear slithered down his cheek.

"Oh, Andrew, what am I to do with you?" Wiping the tear away, she hugged him close and, after closing the door behind her, made her way back to the picnic basket. Paws jumped back at her approach. He'd been sniffing the contents.

Thorliff and Haakan were nowhere to be seen. Hjelmer led the mule out of the corral and swung aboard. "Bye." He waved with one hand and tightened his hat down on his forehead with the other, then kicked the trotting mule into a lope westward across the prairie.

"Thorliff? Haakan?"

"Ja, in the barn." The two of them came out moments later, Thorliff carrying the worm can and Haakan with a bundle over his shoulder.

"How about I take the youngster, there?" Haakan reached out his arms and Andrew went right into them. With a smooth motion, Haakan swung the little boy up to sit on his shoulders. "Hang on, now." Andrew grabbed for a hold on the man's hair and knocked his hat to the dust. "Ouch." Haakan hung on to the child with one hand and retrieved his hat with the other. "Now listen, we got to work this out."

Andrew bounced up and down, shrieking his glee.

"Andrew, sit still." Ingeborg tried to keep her mouth straight but failed. When Andrew chortled his belly laugh, they all joined in. She took Haakan's hat and set it on the baby's head, covering him almost to his shoulders.

"Guess that won't work, either."

Andrew bounced again. "Go."

Thorliff backpedaled in front of them, waving his arms to make Andrew laugh again and bounce some more.

"Here." Ingeborg took the hat, set it atop her own, and strode out, picnic basket on her arm. Within two strides Haakan caught up to her.

"I'm glad you wore your abominable skirts."

Her cheeks instantly adopted the sunburned look and feel. He'd heard her call them that?

They returned in time for chores with two long strings of fish, a few mosquito bites, a baby asleep on Haakan's head, and a glow around Ingeborg's heart. Wasn't this what families were supposed to be like? She knew that this would be a memory to lighten the long dark days when the cold winds howled across the plains in winter.

Two days later, she walked into Kaaren's for dinner to find Thorliff sitting at the table already. His cut lip oozed a few drops of blood, one eye was swollen to the size of a double-yoked egg, and the other was barely open.

"Thorliff, what happened to you?" She dropped to her knees beside him and clutched him to her shoulder. "Who ... what... ?" She looked up at Kaaren, frantic for an answer.

horliff, tell me. What happened to you?" Ingeborg smoothed the hail back from his dirt-streaked forehead. Traces of blood smeared under his nose told her he'd had a nosebleed also.

He sniffed and tried to keep his head ducked so he couldn't see her.

"Kaaren?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me." Kaaren brought a warm cloth and began washing the dirt and blood from his face.

A sharp rap on the door drew all their attention.

"Mrs. Bjorklund, I need to talk with you." The order in Mrs. Strand's voice brooked no argument.

"Come in, please." Kaaren opened the screen door and beckoned the woman inside.

"Your dog bit my son right on the back of his leg, and it is bleeding. Mind you, not just a nip but an out-and-out vicious attack." She clamped her arms over her humphing bosom, much like an army officer disciplining his troops. "What are you going to do about it?"

Ingeborg rose to her feet with one hand on Thorliff's shoulder. "Why, I don't know at the moment. Does your son need stitches to stop the bleeding?" She knew she was stalling for time, but something told her this was not all that it seemed to be. "Paws has never bitten anyone before."

She bent down and looked Thorliff in the face. "What do you know about this, son?"

Thorliff sniffed and flinched away when Kaaren touched his eye.

"What happened to your boy, there?"

"I don't know, but you can be sure I will find out." Falling over a tree or some such hadn't inflicted these battle scars on her son, but she had a good idea what did. Fists, that's what. She looked at the woman who stood there waiting as if it were her due.

"Mrs. Strand, we will tie our dog up for the moment."

"No. It wasn't Paws' fault. He was just protecting me." Thorliff finally found his voice.

"From what, son? Were there coyotes out there?"

Thorliff shook his head.

"Was Baptiste there?"

"He went home."

"Why? He usually spends the day with you."

Thorliff shook his head.

Ingeborg stood to her full height and squared her shoulders.

Mrs. Strand made a harrumphing sound at the sight of Ingeborg's britches.

"Excuse me, but I need to get to the bottom of this with my son. If you would be so kind." Ingeborg ushered the woman out before she realized what happened.

"I will be back."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Ingeborg muttered under her breath. She looked from Kaaren to Lars, who both shrugged, and then back to Thorliff.

"All right, Thorliff, now I want the full story." Her tone said it all.

Thorliff looked up, and a tear welling under one swollen eyelid rolled down his bruised cheek. "I started it. The fight."

"A fight! Did you and Baptiste have a fight?"

"Oh no! Baptiste is my friend. It was those others." He swiped the back of his hand under his nose and came up with a bloody smear.

"Those others?" Ingeborg felt like she was one step off in a marching parade.

"Arnie and Bert Strand."

"Thorliff Bjorklund, I want the entire story right now. And don't leave anything out!"

Thorliff sniffed and began with a bit of a quaver. "I took the sheep down to the river to drink, like I always do, and Baptiste came over, like always. After they drank, we took them to the next patch of good grass. They don't like the real deep grass, so we let them graze, and Baptiste and I kind of knocked the tall stuff down."

Ingeborg nodded for him to continue.