Blossoms on the Roof (14 page)

“Sleep away,” Father said. “I can't blame you for being tired. It'll be morning before long.”

Finally the dawning light stole through the trees. They ate quick, cold breakfasts and started for home.

Ben had never felt so cold in his life. The cold reached beneath his coat with what seemed like iron talons. His mittened hands felt like useless lumps. “It must be colder than it ever was in Indiana,” he said to Father.

“Maybe it is,” Father said, keeping his eyes on the steep trail.

Just then they heard shouts up ahead. John's wagon had slipped down a steep bank and overturned. Firewood lay strewn in the snow.

The other two teams stopped, and some of the men
strained to right the wagon. Ben stayed with Jasper and Rob. He groaned as he watched the men with their shoulders to the upset wagon. Now he'd get even colder because of this delay.

John's wagon slipped down a steep bank.

Finally they had the wagon upright, and Father hustled toward Ben.
Oh good,
thought Ben.
We'll go now
. But Father had a different idea. “I'll watch the team now while you help reload the Kanagys' firewood. That'll give you a chance to get warm. Moving around helps, you know.”

Feeling ashamed, Ben climbed stiffly from the wagon thinking,
How selfish I am! I've been thinking only of myself and not about helping John and Abe reload!
And Father was right. By the time Ben clambered back on their wagon, he felt warm right to his fingertips.

20

A Feeling in the Air

T
he North Dakota winter was cold. No, the smoke did not freeze before it left the chimney the way Ben's friend back in Indiana had said, and Polly did not have to break the ice on her blanket before she could get up in the morning, but it was still colder than the Yoders had ever experienced. Bill McLellan said the thermometer in town often showed thirty degrees below zero. Sometimes it showed forty or even fifty below.

Though most of the time they didn't have that much snow, one morning in late January, Mother looked out the window and said, “Those clouds make me think of something I heard from Cynthia McLellan.”

Polly peeked past Mother's elbow at the snowy prairie stretching away to the gray sky. Dark, heavy clouds lay along the horizon.

“Cynthia says she can feel it in the air when there's going to be a blizzard. She says she can even smell it.”

Father wrinkled his brow. “Why do you talk of blizzards this morning? We haven't had much snow at all.”

“Remember the surprise snowstorm that time you went to the mountains for firewood in November?”

“Of course I remember,” Father said with a shrug and then turned to Polly and Ben. “Are you ready to go to school? I think I'll hitch up Jasper this morning.” Bill had loaned them a small, one-horse sleigh that Father used to take the children to school.

Polly asked, “You don't really think we'll get snowed in, Mother, do you?”

“Oh—probably not,” Mother answered hesitantly.

“I certainly want to go to school,” Polly said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Today's the spelling match. Mrs. Whiteside divided us into two teams, you know, and each week we have a match. Last week the other team won, but the week before, it was us.” Polly and Ben grinned at each other, remembering the fun.

“So you two are on the same team,” remarked Father as he put on his overcoat. “It's nice that you don't have to compete against each other.”

Mother tucked the last sandwich in Polly's lunch bucket. “Remember, if there ever is a blizzard and we can't come to get you, then just stay with Mrs. Whiteside for the night.”

“Oh, Mother,” said Ben as he went out the door, “why do you keep talking about blizzards?”

Jasper started off at a fast trot. He knew exactly where the Mylo school was. Soon Ben and Polly were waving goodbye to Father as they walked from the sleigh to the schoolhouse.

The spelling match began right after noon. Outdoors the wind was rising, but nobody paid any attention. Mrs. Whiteside allowed the children to push aside the desks so she could arrange the pupils along the north and south walls of the classroom. The youngest ones of each team were near the front.

“Cat,” she began, looking at Toby Mettler, the youngest boy. Confidently he spelled the word back to her.

“Bat,” said the teacher, turning to the youngest team member on the other side. As she went down the line, the words got harder. Polly jiggled nervously from one foot to the other as her turn neared.

“Travel,” said Mrs. Whiteside.

Before Polly could spell it, Hall Jennings pointed to the window and exclaimed, “Look at that!”

Every head turned. Polly gasped. Snow whirled so thickly past the window that the panes seemed covered with wool.

“Blizzard!” cried Rick McPhee. Suddenly all the children were talking. The spelling bee was forgotten.

Mrs. Whiteside rapped a ruler on her desk to stop the buzz of voices. “Children, you know our plan for a storm. Please start home right away if the blizzard is not too bad and if you have your own horse. If you don't, wait for your parents to fetch you. And if they don't come, stay right here.”

Just then a knock sounded on the door, and there was Roger McPhee, looking like a snowman. “Rick, Sue, and Millie, get your coats, and we'll be off.”

In less than fifteen minutes, twenty-eight of the pupils had disappeared into the swirling snow. Only Polly and Ben were left. Lora and Patience led Polly upstairs, gleefully making plans for a night together.

Minutes later Mrs. Whiteside called up the stairs, “Your father is here to get you, Polly.”

Polly hurried down. She saw that Father's coat was all snowy and that he was missing his hat.

“The wind got my hat,” Father said ruefully. “I've never seen a storm like this.”

Mrs. Whiteside said soberly, “Shouldn't you stay? You're new to the area and not used to blizzards. Things may be better in the morning.”

Father shook his head. “My wife is expecting me. Are you ready, Polly and Ben? Tie your scarves around your face like this.”

Mrs. Whiteside replied, “You must not go bareheaded, Mr. Yoder. Wait! I'll get something for you from upstairs.” Moments later she returned with a stocking cap.

“Thanks,” said Father, pulling the cap over his hair.

He looked so strange that Polly wanted to laugh, but she didn't. Things were too serious. Going outside was like walking into a wall of snow. Where had Father tied Jasper? The horse was nowhere in sight.

Father peered into the whiteness. “The sleigh's over there,” he said. Polly put up her arm to shield her face and followed him blindly.

Sure enough, there was Jasper. His dapple-gray coat was all white with snow. Father untied him and they were off. Thump! The sleigh struck something and toppled on its side. The three of them spilled onto the snow.

“That's spill number seven,” Ben said, chuckling. Upsets in this little sleigh were so common that the children were keeping track just for fun. Righting the sleigh, they moved blindly on and into the howling wind. Soon they took spill number eight. By spill number nine, no one was laughing anymore.

“It's the wind,” Father said. “The sleigh simply gets pushed over.”

“Are we going to make it?” whimpered Polly. Already she felt cold to the bone.

Holding the reins, Father stood beside the sleigh. “I
think I will take you back to school. Mrs. Whiteside will gladly keep you for the night.”

“What about you?” Ben asked.

“I'm going home. Mother would be worried if I stayed.”

“Where's the schoolhouse?” Polly asked in bewilderment.

“We can follow our tracks back. We haven't come far with all those upsets.” Father took them right to the schoolhouse door.

“How will you ever get home, Father?” Polly fretted.

“Don't worry about me,” Father replied, pulling the stocking cap down farther. “Trust in God.” And with that, he turned Jasper into the driving snow.

21

Long Night

F
ather could not understand why Jasper was so stubborn. He simply did not want to go in the direction Father thought he should. Was it because Jasper didn't like heading into the wind?

Time seemed to stop for Father, there in the swirling whiteness.
I wonder how far I've come. How many times has the sleigh flipped over?
Finally Father decided to leave the sleigh behind. With half-frozen fingers, he unhitched Jasper and climbed onto his back.

More time passed.
Am I going around in circles?
Father couldn't help wondering. Suddenly he felt Jasper stumble and heard the clang of hooves on steel.

The railroad! Now I won't get lost—not if I follow the track. But which way is Mylo and which way is Rolla?
He simply did not know.
I'll just have to follow the track in one direction
or the other. Either way, I'll probably arrive at a warm place even if Mother won't know where I am.

Then Father realized that he couldn't follow the track on Jasper's back. He would have to get down on his hands and knees and feel for the iron rail.

“Sorry, Jasper,” he said as he slid off the horse's back. “I hope I see you again.”

Father left the horse standing in the flying snow, and getting down on his hands and knees, he began to crawl toward safety.

Meanwhile back home, Jakie was full of questions. “Why doesn't Father come home? Why don't Ben and Polly come?” he asked Mother over and over again.

“Maybe the sleigh dumped,” she told him. “That would mean it's taking them longer.”

Slowly the swirling whiteness turned to howling darkness. Mother's answers to Jakie's questions changed now. “Do you know what? I think they decided to stay at school. They would all have room to sleep there.”

Jakie began to cry. “I wish they would come home.”

“Let's eat supper,” said Mother. They had been waiting to eat, hoping the others would come.

Lisbet ate happily. She was too young to understand how serious the storm was. Jakie ate a little bit of soup, but he didn't seem hungry. Neither was Mother.