Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (27 page)

Ja, I can see that
, he thought, covering his mouth with a napkin.

“That is enough now,
Kjell,” Jan said when Amalie frowned at him. “I will talk with her.” But he grinned
through breakfast.

That night in his room in the barn, Jan laughed aloud.
Several times during his long day he had recalled the pleasure of his visit
with
Fru Brünlee.
He had cut a nice, supple switch, walked across the
field and creek, and handed it to her.

“Kjell say dog bad.
Here.” And he had handed her the switch.

“What do I do with
this?”
Fru Brünlee
had demanded, her words frosty with disdain.

Jan chuckled again.
So
indignant!
At that moment he had nearly laughed in her face. When she
pointed to the bush that her ugly, ill-mannered dog was dragging across the
yard, Jan had promptly demonstrated the switch’s use.

“Now,
Fru Brünlee
—must
do if dog bad.
All
times.” He had spoken firmly, perhaps too firmly, for
she shrank from him.

So he gentled his voice
and pointed. “See?”
The gangly pup was baring his belly, a submissive
sign.

After that Jan began to notice the many little improvements she
had made to her yard—shrubs, bushes, and newly sprouted seedlings. He had studied
her garden and was, he admitted, impressed.

Then he had seen her fruit saplings! He counted four of
them.
Grunting in approval he commented,
“Four, five year, get fruit.”

“Yes, I know. I . . .
just wanted to start them, to see them grow.” She was flushed with the pleasure
of her first successes, but
Jan sobered, doubting again that she would endure
those four or five years to see them flourish.

She had talked on, saying something he could not follow, so
h
e held up his hand. “Talk so slow, please,
Mrs.
Brünlee
,” he had asked. The “Mrs.” did not come easily to his
tongue, but he did his best.

Later she had offered him some cool tea and they had sat on
the steps of the porch he had built, discussing the Bible as if it were the
most natural thing in the world to do.

It had felt natural,
Jan realized. Natural and
comfortable. Satisfying.

When he had finished the
last of his tea he stood. “Go now, Mrs. Brünlee. You make dog gud.”

She grimaced but agreed.

Jan knew she had not the
stomach to switch the dog when he needed it. “Proverbs 13:24,”
he quoted as he started away. Perhaps she would look it up and learn an
important principle.

He
that spareth his rod hateth his son;
but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.

Jan smiled again. His neighbor was becoming something of a
fascination.

~~**~~

The heat of midsummer hung
heavy on the prairie. Jan lifted his hat and wiped his face with the kerchief
he carried in his back pocket. He relished the breeze that cooled his damp head.
He would be grateful to run his head under the pump and rinse the sweat and
grime from it when it was time for the midday meal.

He studied the field
before him, satisfied. Their corn stood high, topped with golden tassels, full
of plump ears. The winter wheat crop had been a good one, too; soon the second
sowing would reach maturity.

I thank you, Lord,
for this bounty!
he rejoiced.
So
many years we did not know how we would get through, but you have always made a
way. Thank you
, he again prayed.

He scanned the horizon.
Thunderstorms began building this time of day, so he regularly turned an eye to
the skies. To the west he noted a cloud and paused to study it.

Typically, thunderheads built
vertically, growing from white to dark gray and black, until they towered, full
of moisture, high in the sky. The cloud he was watching was moving . . .
quickly, too quickly. It looked as though rain were sheeting from the cloud to
the ground—

His body reacted before
his mind grasped what he was seeing. Heart hammering, Jan began running toward
the house and barn.

Nei Lord! Not again!
his mind began to scream. He saw Arnie and
hollered at him to ring the bell. “Keep it ringing!” Jan shouted.

As fast as he could
move, Jan began hitching the bays to the wagon.
The cloud is moving from
north to south. Perhaps two miles west?

“McKennies’,” Jan
breathed. After that, Norvald and Inge’s, and the Gardiners’!

Søren, Karl, and Kjell came
running because the continued clanging of the bell signaled an emergency. “What
is it,
Pappa
?” Søren shouted.

“Look to the west,” Jan answered,
his words grim. “Karl! Arnie! Kjell! Get our plows and all of our hoes,
shovels, and picks. Bring gloves and every empty burlap bag! Bring kerosene!”

The boys scattered to do
his bidding. Amalie and Sigrün stood on the porch, watching, wringing their
hands, worried.

Søren turned to Jan, his
face ashen. “Locusts?”

“
Ja
, get the mule
and tie it to the wagon,” Jan answered, grinding his teeth. “Please God, it is not
as big a swarm as the last time—maybe several acres?” The boys returned, piling
tools into the wagon.

“Get in,” Jan
instructed. “We must follow the swarm. If it lands, we will fight it.”

They were not the only
farmers in the neighborhood to recognize the swarm for what it was. As Jan turned
at the road that led to the McKennies’, he saw other wagons racing toward them.

Then the cloud was
passing over their heads, going ahead of them, the chittering of thousands of
wings chilling Jan’s heart. As they watched, the swarm descended on McKennie
corn.

Fiona saw the wagons coming
and waved them on.
Jan stood and urged the bays faster until he saw
Brian, Norvald, and a few of their neighbors gathered at the edge of the field.
He threw the reins to Arnie and jumped from the wagon.

His friends nodded to him but their eyes were on the field.
The swarm crawled over much of Brian’s cornfield and the collective tearing and
chewing of locust mandibles was loud, familiar, and terrifying.

Jan studied the field. “Brian, the swarm has just landed,
ja
?
We know they will be busy for a few hours. Let us plow a firebreak around them and
set the field on fire. If we use kerosene and the field burns hot enough, will
the swarm not choke in the smoke?”

They looked up as another wagon careened toward them. Others
were close behind. Jan was surprised to see his neighbor’s buggy pull into the
yard. The gathering was growing in number.

Jan yanked his attention back to their problem. “We cannot
wait,” Jan warned. Søren quickly translated his advice.

“What Jan says will be
workin’,” Brian agreed. “Boot ’tis meanin’ we’ve got t’ break our backs in t’
next hour or two, three at t’ moost, or our chance will be goon. And if are we
missing this chance, your fields may be next!”

Søren spoke up. “My
father says if Brian McKennie is willing to sacrifice his corn, we should be
grateful to take advantage of such an offer.” There was a buzz of talk and
Brian spoke again.

“Well, laddies, let’s to
it! Th’ Lord be blessin’ ye all. Even ye women what feel ye can help, we’ll be
needin’ ye.”

The group of men
dispersed into action,
hitching their
plows and following Brian’s shouted instructions even as he hitched his own. Søren
and Karl hitched the bays to Thoresen plows; Jan hitched his mule to Brian’s
disc. Jan called Arnie, Kjell, and the McKennie boys to grab hoe, shovel, and
pick, and pointed where they were to start.

The boys went after the
corn, chopping and ripping it from the ground to clear a path before the plow. Jan’s
shouted to the mule and it pulled, the tool biting into the soil. He forged
ahead and Søren plowed to his side a few feet behind.

Together their swath was
about two feet wide—not anywhere near wide enough. The boys ahead of them hacked
at the cornstalks and tossed them into the field to burn and they plowed on.

An hour later, Jan and
Søren met Brian and Norvald head-on as they plowed toward them. Jan and Søren
drove around Brian and Norvald and continued on to widen the swath.

Perhaps fifty neighbors
and their wives and children were now working furiously to complete a firebreak.
Someone was distributing gunnysacks to beat the fire if it jumped the plowed break.
Another neighbor and his son were constructing torches and dipping them in a
bucket of kerosene.

Still the firebreak was
unfinished; Jan drove his mule mercilessly. Behind them, others spread the
turned dirt, tossing prairie grass and fallen cornstalks aside, hacking deeper
into the field to widen the swath.

In the commotion someone
shouted a warning—the cloud was lifting! Whether the break was ready or not, if
the swarm lifted off, they had agreed to torch the field rather than let the
swarm escape untouched. Those holding torches waited for the signal shot, but
the mass of insects hovered and then descended not far from where it had first
landed.

Up ahead, Jan could see another
man plowing toward him. He swung his plow to the right, and they drove by each
other, connecting the widened swath. It was enough! Shouting orders, the men
unhitched the animals and had them led away to safety.

Brian and Jan’s boys
were handing lit torches to each person able to hold one; every man, woman, and
child stood along the firebreak, waiting for the signal. Jan saw men pouring kerosene
around the edges of the field.

Jan received a torch and
saw one of Brian’s sons light Fiona’s and
Fru Brünlee’s
torches. The
acrid smoke burned Jan’s already parched throat as they awaited signal! Through
the haze he saw Rose Brownlee, her mouth set in a determined line.

The gunshot! Jan plunged
his torch into the cornfield—there, there, and there. The kerosene-soaked edges
of the field smoldered and then burned.

Thick, dense smoke
billowed upwards, growing, spreading. A slight wind freshened, driving the fire
on Jan’s side of the field toward the infestation. On the other side of the
field, he knew his friends and neighbors would be laboring to keep the fire from
jumping the break.

The sound of thousands
upon thousands of insect wings grew—the swarm was lifting! Jan grimly watched as
the insects climbed away from the smoke, escaping.

Oh, God, how we need
you now!

The breeze dropped, then
backed; the wind shifted direction and blew! On the other side of the field,
the fire roared up—engulfing the swarm! Frenzied buzzing grew louder as did the
roar of flames.

Then it was raining locusts!
Jan shouted; the men and women on either side of him surged forward. Swinging
burlap bags, they beat the stunned insects as they fell from the air. Deeper
into the field they pushed, over the hot ashes and smoldering stubble, beating
the locusts.

They had won.

Jan, Søren, and the boys
gathered their tools and trudged toward Brian’s house. The boys made for the
pump and rinsed streams of black grime from their heads and faces.

A few women were hauling
buckets of water to the workers. Jan’s throat ached; when he was offered a cup,
he could scarcely swallow. He looked around, seeing the human toll of their
efforts.

Faces and clothing were
blackened. One of the Gardiner boys was coughing and retching from the smoke.
He heard Fiona weeping over Brian’s blistered hands. He saw his neighbor
helping Fiona wrap Brian’s hands.

Folks were leaving now,
by ones and twos making their way in exhaustion to their wagons for the drive
home. Jan positioned himself on the road where it left Brian’s yard. Søren
stood with him. As their friends and neighbors passed, he asked for a moment of
their time and Søren translated his request.

Søren nodded when he saw
Rose Brownlee, and they both grinned at the same time. Hearing Søren’s chuckle,
Jan turned. His usually impeccable neighbor was covered in soot, her hair a
tangled mess.

Jan grinned. “So! Mrs.
Brünlee
like play dirt?”

“It does not appear that
I am alone, does it?” she joked back. She sighed. “What a shame! We did get the
locusts, didn’t we? But Brian’s corn is all gone.”

“
Ja
. And help
Brian now.”

“How? How can we help?
Can I help?”

Jan smiled again. “You
help . . .” He asked Søren for a word. “You help already, Mrs.
Brünlee
.
We . . .” He consulted Søren again.

“We share corn, all
farmers . . .” He waved his hand to include those living in the
area. “
All
safe now. We share for Brian.”

Fru Brünlee
smiled and nodded her approval; Jan
nodded in return, their understanding perfect.

Those in the community who had survived the great locust
infestation seven years ago knew what God and their quick efforts had saved
them from. Instead of disaster and near starvation, they rejoiced in an
abundant harvest.

Jan released a sigh of weary relief when the train bearing their
corn, wheat, and hogs left the station in Norvald’s capable hands. He and his
family had labored long and hard to bring in the crops and store up more than
enough food for the winter. This year he would have money to put in the bank.

Amalie had taken their neighbor under her wing throughout
the summer, teaching her how to store or can her garden’s produce. When the
Thoresens killed their hogs,
Fru Brünlee
had learned to make soap,
cheeses, candles, and sausages at Amalie’s side.

Jan shook his head. Every time he decided
Fru Brünlee
would certainly back down, give up, or turn up her nose at hard, messy work,
she surprised him.

Maybe she would survive on the prairie after all, but only
winter would determine that.

Jan heard Arnie and Kjell telling Amalie that the school
would have a new teacher when the fall term began,
a Mr. Letoire. Jan stood in the doorway, considering an idea.

“Ach! Jan, please close
the door,
ja
? You’re letting the flies in,” Amalie scolded.

Jan grabbed a cup of
coffee and headed for the living room, thinking hard. The schoolmaster usually
boarded around the community during the school year, each family taking him for
a few weeks. Now Jan was pondering the vow he’d made years ago.

I will not learn the
English
, he’d vowed in the heat
of his pain and anger.
I have Søren; I do not need to learn.

Today that vow was
sounding foolish and pig-headed.
Yes, another example of my impulsive nature
,
he chided himself.
Karl surely would have had words to say to me on that
count, eh?

He turned back to the
kitchen. “Amalie, may I ask a favor of you?”

Amalie looked in
surprise to see that Jan was serious. “
Bror
, I will do anything for you,
do you not know that? What is it?”

“I was thinking that
perhaps the new schoolmaster would board with us.”

“Ach! Is that all? Sure,
don’t we usually have the teacher a few weeks each year?” Søren would give up
the bedroom on the main floor and sleep with Little Karl when the teacher
stayed with them.

“
Nei
, what I mean
is . . . I wish him to stay with us the whole term.”

Amalie studied him
closely. “All right. But why, Jan?”

Jan cleared his throat.
“Perhaps it is time that you and I learn the English,
ja
? If he is here,
perhaps we can apply ourselves to it. But I know his staying all term will be
more work for you.”

Amalie blinked and said
nothing. She stirred the pot on the stove for a moment. Then she shrugged. “As
you wish, Jan.”

“
Tusen takk, Søster
,” Jan breathed. “
Mange tusen
takk
.”