Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (10 page)

As the winter nights wore on, Jan held Elli in his arms.
“Why haven’t we had another baby, Jan? I don’t understand.” She kept her voice
low but he could hear her tears.

“We will have more children, you’ll see,” he assured her.
“We still have lots of time.”

~~**~~

Another spring!
Jan rejoiced.
Lord, this is our
year!

Karl and Jan had worked their land four years now and had added
a few cattle, some goats, and several milk cows to their livestock. They had
grown their herd of
Landrace pigs and made good
money from them.
They had enlarged and improved the barn they built
their second spring to include a milking shed and additional pens for pigs and
goats.

And Elli and Amalie had picked apples from the two trees Jan
had planted on the slope to the south of where Jan and Elli would build their house.

After four years, the Thoresens were still living in the
soddy even though it was an inconvenient distance from the barn. As their livestock
grew, it had made more sense to shelter the hay and grass to feed the animals each
winter than to make room for the two Thoresen families; it had made no sense to
spend precious money making over part of the barn for them to live in
temporarily.

Instead both families had agreed to stay in the cramped soddy—even
though Karl and Amalie had added another baby boy, Arnie, to their family. They
were determined to save the money needed to build the first house.

The Thoresens and Henrik had built a bridge across the creek.
Jan and Karl had plowed more fields on both of their properties to grow corn,
wheat, hay, and oats.

In another month their fields would again be planted. Afterward
Karl and Jan and the rest of the community would have a few weeks to spare for
other tasks.

“We have but a year more to prove up our claims, Karl,” Jan
said, his excitement barely in check.

Karl answered slowly, “
Ja
, we have the soddy, but it
is on my property.”

Karl alluded to the government’s requirement: For every 160
acres claimed under the Homestead Act, the claimant must build a dwelling, make
improvements on the property, live on and farm the land—and prove they are
doing so—by the end of five years.

“Just so, Karl. Now we must be building a house on my
property. Thank you, God in heaven, we have money from our hogs to pay for the lumber!”
Karl and Jan would soon be taking their wagons to pick up the lumber Robert Bailey
would have off-loaded from the train for them.

A tiny town had grown up northwest of the railroad’s water
tower prompting the railroad to move its water tower and build a small siding
at the town. The people had attached the name RiverBend to their village,
because the town was near the river as it turned toward the Platte.

RiverBend—and the railroad—were closer to the Thoresens’
homestead than where they had first arrived and left the train. Even better,
the railroad had hired Mr. Bailey to manage RiverBend’s little station.

For a minute Karl didn’t say anything more and then, “We
spoke of building a house close to the barn first. That makes sense, eh? Later
we will build a second house and maybe even a second barn, but first we must
prove up our claims.”

“This is so,” Jan replied. “We have talked about this many
times. I have paid for the lumber. This month we will lay the foundation. It is
time to build the house. We should set a date and, when we build the Gustav’s
barn in two weeks, ask our neighbors to come to the raising,
ja
?”

Karl dithered for another minute. “I have been thinking.”

Jan turned toward Karl, something setting him on his guard.
“Thinking of what?”

Karl looked away, a little uneasy in his manner. “I was
thinking maybe you wouldn’t mind if we . . . switched claims.
Traded?”

Jan stared at his brother. “Trade land? Why do you say this?”
For a moment he was puzzled. “Oh, I see. If we switch claims, then the first
house we build will be yours,
ja
? Is that it?”

“It is only because Amalie . . . we already
have three children and . . . she is pregnant again.”

Jan said nothing. He did not trust himself to speak. Of
course he was happy about another baby coming, but . . .

“No, Karl. This is my land.” The words came out before Jan
even had a chance to think of forming them.
Of course he would not trade.
This was
his
land! Hadn’t he stood on it that first day and thanked God
for it?

Jan added slowly, “If we could build on your land first, I
would gladly agree to that, but we don’t have a choice,
ja
? We must
build on mine to prove up. This is what we agreed on when we decided to build
out the soddy and live there, is it not?”

He was leery of Karl’s suggestion. The conversation that Elli
had suggested Jan have with his brother, now several years past, came back to him.
The discussion had been tense and uncomfortable.

It had not been easy for Jan to talk of his feelings and do
so calmly. It also hadn’t been easy for Karl to listen. He had struggled to see
Jan’s perspective.

It had taken patient explanation on Jan’s part for Karl to
realize their relationship was being damaged. Jan had to point out where Karl
unconsciously treated Jan not just as a younger brother but as a brother under
Karl’s authority—when in fact they were both grown and the heads of their own
families.

In the end, Karl had responded well and changed toward him
in many ways. In turn, Jan had let the anger go. Jan had worked hard to keep
his heart free of offense and had learned to assert himself—
calmly
—when
he felt it was necessary.

Jan swallowed. “You know, Elli and I wish to have more
children, too. Who knows? We could have another
barn
by next spring!” Jan
thought of Elli and the disappointment each month brought.
If I trade, Elli
will believe I have given up hope for us to have another child
.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t trade with you,” he repeated quietly.

Karl just nodded. “
Ja
, all right. I thought I would ask.”

Jan hastened to add, “We will build the house as we planned,
Karl. The house will have enough bedrooms for you and Amalie and the children to
live with us while we build your house
next
spring. Isn’t that what we planned?”

He rushed on. “It is but a year. Next spring our neighbors
will testify that we are building a new house for your family on
your
property
to replace the soddy, eh?”

“Sure, sure. You are right, Jan.” Karl wandered off to work
in the barn, but for some reason Jan was still uneasy.

Elli stared at the incontrovertible evidence. She was not
pregnant.
Again
.

O Lord!
she moaned.
I’m not too old! I still have
regular cycles! Please!

Only last evening Amalie had announced that yet another baby
was on the way. Karl and Amalie already had Sigrün, Little Karl, and Arnie—and
now another was coming!

Lord, I am only thirty-one
, Elli begged. She had
become pregnant the first time right after she and Jan had married. Søren was
born when she was nineteen years old. She hadn’t had any difficulties with her
pregnancy or the birth.

After that, it had taken only a year before she became
pregnant with Kristen. But then . . . nothing. Søren was now twelve,
Kristen was almost ten, and Elli’s arms ached to hold another baby.

Elli wanted to ask,
Lord, do you hear me? Do you not care?
But in her heart she knew that God heard her prayers, even her very thoughts.
Nothing was hidden from him!

She cried herself to sleep in Jan’s arms when each month ended
in disappointment. He comforted her by talking of the home they would build,
and they dreamed together of the day they would finally have their own roof
over their heads.

With more children, please, Lord!
Elli cried out to
God.

Jan and Karl began work on the house’s foundation as soon as
their last field was planted. The two men and Søren again took both wagons to
the river to gather rocks.

As he and Søren drove toward the river, Jan was sober,
thinking of Elli’s most recent disappointment. They still had no child on the
way, and Elli was increasingly despondent.

Why, Lord?
he asked.
Søren and Kristen are
healthy! Elli is healthy! Certainly our love life is healthy, ja?
He chuckled
aloud, drawing a curious look from Søren, seated beside him.

Lord, we would like more children. We are still young, so
would you please bless us with a house full of them before I am too old to be a
new pappa?

The Andersons, Bruntrüllsens, Kappels, and many other
families from the German church came to help them raise the house. Jan could scarcely
sleep the night before. By noon the full frame of the two-story home, raised
upon the foundation he, Søren, and Karl had laid, was standing.

Elli, Amalie, and their neighbors’ wives fed the men and
their families a hearty midday meal. Jan could not eat—he was giddy with the
realization of this dream, the happiest he’d been since the day he had first
seen his claim. He spent much of his time during the meal thanking and shaking
the hands of the men who came to help, often making small, encouraging comments.

The only irritation in the day was the appearance of Adolphe
Veicht and his wife Rakel. “Tomas is not well,
Herr
Thoresen. He has
sent us in his stead,” Adolphe announced coolly.

The Thoresens had been attending the German church, usually
twice a month, for the past four years. Although language was still a barrier,
Jan and Elli had picked up enough German to understand the hymns and to make simple
conversations.

The sermons were more difficult to follow, but Jan loved
Tomas Veicht, as did the congregation. And in Heidi Veicht Elli felt that her
children had been gifted with a
bestemor
—a grandmother of the heart.

“It is hard for children to grow up without their
grandparents, Jan,” Elli mused. “We are so blessed to have Tomas and Heidi in
our lives.”

The Thoresens knew that Tomas and Heidi had lived and farmed
in this area for more than twenty years—far longer than most in the church.
However, it was also clear that Tomas was not as strong a man on the outside as
he had been at one time. Tomas still farmed some of his land, but his grandsons
and others in the church did much of the work for him.

Yet as much as Jan and Elli loved Tomas and Heidi, their son
Adolphe was another story. Adolphe knew the Bible well and sometimes taught the
Sunday message, but he and his wife espoused a more severe approach to
Christian living than did Tomas and Heidi. Adolphe, Rakel, and their two sons
dressed plainly, with little color. They believed frivolity or much humor to be
inappropriate.

Despite Jan and Elli’s efforts to break the ice with the
younger Veichts, the couple remained aloof, almost disapproving of them. To his
puzzlement, Jan felt Adolphe’s eyes continually watching him as though probing
for faults.

And so Jan and Elli thought it strange that Karl and Adolphe
Veicht got on well. In fact, Adolphe was probably Karl’s closest friend, next
to Jan. Amalie, on the other hand, was close-mouthed about the Veichts.

Elli wondered how Amalie fared in a one-on-one conversation
with Rakel. The woman invariably had an opinion about everyone and
everything—generally a critical one. With Karl so friendly with Adolphe, Amalie
could not help but spend time with Rakel; nevertheless, she never spoke to Elli
of Adolphe and Rakel.

Why is Adolphe Veicht always cool to me, Lord?
Jan
thought as the house raising began. While Jan encouraged and cheered the
workers, Adolphe watched him closely as if he wanted to catch him doing
something wrong! When Jan told a good story—one that made his listeners laugh—Adolphe
frowned.

And today Rakel stands apart from the other women as
though offended that she is not supervising the meals! Why is that, Lord?

Jan saw Elli and Amalie make attempts to include Rakel and
heard her sniff and reply, “I’m sure I would do things differently if I were in
charge, but I’ll leave you to manage it your way.”

As if Elli and Amalie should not manage it their way? Why
are Adolphe and Rakel so sour?
Jan asked himself again.
And how is it
that Tomas and Heidi, so full of God’s graciousness, have a son like this?

Jan shook his head, frustrated. He noticed Karl and Adolphe in
deep conversation.
Adolphe seems to have no problem with Karl!
Adolphe
and Karl’s friendship—more than anything—confused and, Jan admitted, concerned
him.

He looked over the workers and saw Adolphe’s sons, Ernst and
Frank, working hard—but apart from the other men.

I feel bad for these young men, Lord,
Jan prayed.
They
always look whipped and discouraged
.

Jan went out of his way to compliment Ernst and Frank. Although
they were in their late teens or early twenties, Adolphe treated the two boys
like youngsters rather than as men who were now doing men’s work.

Jan knew exactly how they felt; he made sure to encourage the
young men by bringing them into the circle of other men and their conversations.
Ernst and Frank exchanged stolen glances with Jan, their eyes brimming with mute
gratitude.

When the shadows began to fall that evening and the many friends
and neighbors took their leave, each one looked with pride on the results of the
community’s labor: No rooms within the house were yet finished and no windows were
set within their frames, but the house itself, tall and narrow, was sided and
roofed. It had been a good day.

So much of what Jan and Elli had dreamed—built in just one
day! That evening they wandered happily through the large living room, the kitchen,
and the pantry. They stood in the doorway of the room just off the living room,
the room that would be their bedroom.

They walked up the unfinished staircase and stared at the
open space. On the second floor Jan would frame four bedrooms, one for Karl,
Amalie, and the new baby; one for Søren; one for the “little boys;” and one Sigrün
and Kristen would share.