The Reaper's Song (31 page)

Bridget, Sarah, and Katy sat side by side, waiting until Kaaren translated for them. Then Bridget said, “Best thing to do is pray and let God tell us what to do.”

“Ja, you are so right.” Agnes, sitting next to Bridget, laid a hand on her arm. “One thing we can do right here is speak more Norwegian so these two can understand. I know we want all to learn English, but they ain’t had time yet.”

And so they all switched to Norwegian and the conversation
continued. Finally Kaaren raised her hand. “Let’s pray now and then we can get on with our quilting.”

“I have something to say first.” Penny took the floor. “You know we talked about starting a bank here in Blessing, and I know Ingeborg sent out letters about that—”

“Got an answer too,” Ingeborg raised an envelope. “Came yesterday.”

“Good. But the other day I run into a problem concerning Manda and Deborah, who came to our community with Zeb MacCallister.” As she said his name she glanced at Katy, who turned bright red. “Well, those two children are going to lose their inheritance if we don’t do something about it. Their ma is dead, their pa disappeared, and now they aren’t on the land either. Someone could come jump their claim, and all their parents’ sacrifice would be gone for naught.”

“Uff da,” said one.

“Oh my,” another murmured.

“We got to do something.” Agnes said what they all were thinking.

“So MacCallister and the girls are not related?”

Penny shook her head. “He just saved their lives, is all.”

The women looked at one another, then back at Penny.

“No relatives?”

“Not so they know.”

“So what does the law say? Could one of us buy the land and hold it in inheritance for the girls? Or take over the farming until Manda marries or is old enough to go it alone?” Agnes shook her head. “Those poor children.”

“I don’t know the answers to any of those questions, but I know that all together we women can come up with something. And that brings up my next problem.” Penny paused and again looked around the room, catching the gaze of each woman present. “Dakota Territory, be it one state or two, must let women have the vote. We have to help that happen.”

“I don’t see why,” said one of the women. “What good is voting going to do us?”

“You think the men make all the right decisions?” Penny drew herself taller. “We need to be able to own land and have a say in our government. The constitution says ‘for the people,’ not just for the men. Women are part of the people too.”

“Whew, when you get on the soapbox, you do it good.” Agnes
wiped her brow as if she’d been thinking hard. Or working hard.

“We aren’t chattel like the horses to be bought and sold, or dumb animals who slave from dawn to dusk.”

“No, we work far beyond dusk and many before dawn.” Ingeborg’s sally drew a laugh from the rest but nods of agreement.

“Guess I’ve said enough.” Penny leaned back in her chair.

“But how do we go about getting the vote?” Mrs. Magron asked. Without her friend Hildegunn, she hadn’t said much.

“We read newspapers, ask questions, and I’m going to write to a group I heard of for help out here on the prairie.” Penny leaned forward again. “But first, we got to save the land for those children.”

“Let’s pray and we can talk about all of this while we work,” Kaaren said gently. When their heads were bowed, she began, “Heavenly Father, thou who knows all things, we thank thee for this day and this gathering here in the church thou hast given us. We thank thee that we can come before thee and that thou listens to our voices. Thank thee, Father, that thou dost love us and did send thy Son Jesus to die on the cross that we might be yours.”

A sniff came from one of those present.

She asked for help in the problems they were experiencing and for wisdom to know what was right and what to do next. “And heavenly Father, we bring Anner and Hildegunn before thee now. I have not lost an arm, but we have all felt loss of something, so we have an idea how he feels, but, God, he is so angry and bitter. Please help him to see thy mercy and to know that life can be good again. Father, bring healing to each of us who have hurts in our hearts, and we give thee all the thanks and praise. To God be the glory and to Jesus His Son, amen.”

At the “amens” from around the group, they raised their heads and many of them dabbed their eyes with their handkerchiefs.

“Ah, Kaaren, you pray so good. Would that I had words like that,” Brynja said. “So often I only cry and plead, ‘God help me.’ ” She looked up from staring at her hands. “Life is so hard at times.”

The stark words lay on the table like a viper coiled to strike.

Ingeborg nodded. She too was one of those with hurt in her heart. She looked at Agnes and could see suffering mirrored in her eyes.
One of these days
, she promised herself,
I have to talk to Agnes and find out what’s eating her.

By the time they all headed home, they had heard Gould’s letter, his offering assistance of any kind, including investment money to begin the bank. Someone had gone for the newspaper when the train
went through, and Kaaren read aloud to them while they stitched and cut. They put Penny in charge of getting information on the homestead belonging to the two girls, and they set a date for the fall harvest celebration to be had in the Johnsons’ newly finished barn.

“I think you ought to remind Haakan to speak with that young MacCallister,” Agnes said to Ingeborg privately as they were getting into their wagons. “Reverend Solberg and Petar never made that girl shine like the mention of Zeb MacCallister. She was red as a beet every time I looked at her.”

Ingeborg nodded. “You’re right, of course. But getting information from him is like pulling a hen’s teeth. I know. I’ve tried.”

“Kinda makes one wonder, then, what’s he hiding?” Agnes laid a hand on Ingeborg’s knee. “And you and me, we got some talking to do too. You know it well as me.” She turned and put a foot up on the wheel spoke, heaving herself up on the seat like it was a chore that took all her strength.

“You take care of yourself,” Ingeborg called.

Agnes just waved and slapped the reins. “Hup now.”

In the Bjorklund wagon, Bridget and Katy helped settle the twins and toddlers in the back, along with themselves, and Kaaren joined Ingeborg on the wagon seat.

“You all settled back there?” Ingeborg asked over her shoulder. “Now, Andrew, you sit down by Deborah. My land, what a load we got.”

“Giddup!” Andrew hollered, sitting down at the same moment. Kaaren and Ingeborg shared glances and smiles. It had been a good day.

Haakan was having as much trouble prying anything out of Zeb MacCallister as Ingeborg had. Sure he talked about the daily farming, shared all the information he had about the homestead that Manda had left behind—but any mention of his home and life before the girls, and he clammed up tighter than a locked chest.

“If you aren’t happy with my work, just tell me, and I’ll move on,” Zeb said. The shutters had fallen in his eyes only moments earlier.

“Now, you know that ain’t the case.” Haakan put down the harness he was mending. Zeb was working on another set. “Everything
you put your hand to, you do well, and I’ve learned some things from you too.”

“Thank you.” Zeb pounded another rivet in place, making sure it was smooth on the underside so it wouldn’t wear on the horse’s hide. Rain pounded on the barn roof and ran off the eaves, making the barn a warm, dry haven.

Haakan waited, hoping the young man would volunteer something on his own. When it didn’t happen, he sighed and picked up the harness again. Talk about a closed mouth—this man had it down to a habit. Finally Haakan asked gently, “Son, does your family know where you’re at?”

Zeb shook his head and pounded in another rivet.

Haakan drove an empty wagon to the harvest celebration so he could swing by and pick up Anner and Hildegunn. He’d promised Ingeborg and Kaaren that he would bring them if he had to hog-tie Anner and throw him in the wagon.

It nearly took just that.

“Anner, you need to get out and be among us all again.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

With one sleeve folded to the inside on both his shirt and jacket, the man looked curiously unbalanced, as if the wind could blow him over with one puff. For all the weight he’d lost, that just could happen, especially in a winter blizzard.

Anner glowered at Haakan. “What makes you think you know what’s best for everyone else?”

“Everyone voted, and I got elected to drag you here, not because I know what’s best, but because we all miss you.”

“Ha!”

Haakan looked over his shoulder at Hildegunn, who sat huddled in the back as if trying to disappear. “You missed the quilting meeting, Mrs. Valders. Ingeborg said it wasn’t the same without you.”

She didn’t respond but huddled deeper in her black wool coat, a scarf tied over her head and knotted under her chin. Gone was the fine hat and the superior smile. Her eyes appeared dull, as though the light of her soul had gone out, leaving only a shell.

Haakan tried again to get Anner talking, but every sentence received only a grunt, if that.

Lord, help, I don’t know what to do or say.
He clucked the horses
into a trot—anything to make the trip pass more quickly.

By the end of the day of festivities, Haakan knew one thing for certain. Anner was a mean drunk. And he wasn’t the only one slipping outside and returning to the party in the barn rosier of nose and cheek and louder of voice. A growing number of women were hopping mad and about to do their men serious bodily harm for their despicable behavior.

The fiddle invited everyone to dance, the food pleaded for those present to lighten the groaning tables, and between the children playing upstairs in the haymow and the grown-ups down below, the barn was blessed in grand style.

Until one by one the women had spotted a returning spouse or son or brother who couldn’t walk straight.

“I ain’t putting up with this,” Goodie whispered, her lips tightened into a line. “Olaf don’t usually drink much, but today. . .”

“They think because this is a party, they can drink as much as they like.” Penny felt like smacking Hjelmer with whatever she could pick up. He wasn’t drunk by any means, but he was flirting with Katy.

Katy hadn’t sat still for a moment. Every bachelor in the place had lined up to dance with her, as had many of the married men. But anyone could see that she had eyes only for Zeb MacCallister.

Petar staggered back in the door, and Agnes nearly bit her tongue off when she caught sight of him. Joseph was feeling no pain either, but he was an adult. Her nephew still had some ways to go to become one, and Agnes wasn’t about to allow Petar that kind of freedom.

“Don’t say anything here,” Ingeborg whispered. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“If’n I could get hold of that stuff, I’d break every bottle in the country. Why don’t we just march out there right now and pitch it all down the privy!”

Ingeborg giggled at the picture that leaped into her mind. “Now, wouldn’t that be a sight?”

“May I have this dance?” Haakan took hold of his wife’s elbow.

“Later,” Ingeborg promised Agnes as she whirled away to a romping polka. “Haakan, can’t you do something about the drinking?” she asked later as they sipped apple cider to help cool off.

He shook his head. “It’s not against the law, you know.”

A drunken man’s voice yelled words that no woman or anyone else should have to hear. She followed on Haakan’s heels as he
parted the crowd, heading for the door. By the time they got outside, Anner had a knife in his good hand and was waving it wildly at another man.

The things he said made Ingeborg wish she’d stayed inside.

Spittle ran down his chin, and his long, unkempt hair now hung over his eyes since his hat lay on the ground. “You . . .” He weaved back and forth, the knife flashing in the late afternoon sun.

“Anner, you’re using God’s name—” Reverend Solberg pushed toward the fracas.

“There ain’t no God,” Valders shouted. Then lifting his face to the sky, roared, “If you
are
God, strike me dead right now!”

Others backed away, a safeguard in case the Almighty did just that and they got struck by accident.