Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (6 page)

Jan stood on a low rise and surveyed the land before him.
My
land,
his heart sang. His and Karl’s two claims ran side-by-side, the plot
Karl had chosen just to the north and
mine right here under my feet
, Jan
wanted to shout to the sky. From the small creek west of them to the low,
rounded hills in the east, this was their land.

In every direction the prairie grasses danced, an ever-changing
kaleidoscope of pale green and silver. He closed his eyes and lifted his face
to the sun and waited. He waited in utter stillness for the land to speak to
him.

He could hear the morning breeze run its fingers over the
grasses, rising and falling, rising and falling. A meadowlark warbled. In the
distance the children laughed and called to each other. But right here, in this
moment, with his eyes squeezed shut, Jan listened only to the sound of the
prairie wind—gentle, undulating, soothing, eternal.

Eyes still tightly closed, Jan inhaled deeply. He smelled
sage and cedar mixed with the earthy scent of moist soil. It had rained last
night, a late spring shower. A perfect, soaking rain.

He reached down and, grasping a clump of grass with both
hands, pulled free a chunk of soil. He examined the soil thick with the roots
of prairie grasses.
Sod
they called it. He knew that six inches under
the prairie sod ran a layer of dark, rich, fertile earth.

Lord, I thank you
, his heart rejoiced. He struggled to
contain his emotions, and Jan knew he would remember this moment until he died.

He turned and gazed to the west. Their nearest neighbors were
on the claim across the creek.
Anderson
, their new friend
Herr
Bailey
had said. Jan studied the low bluff, a few hundred yards beyond the creek. The
bluff curved gently, creating a wide hollow between it and the creek.

From this distance Jan could see a plowed field atop the
bluff already glowing with the green of newly sprouted corn. A green garden was
marked out in the hollow below. He saw a woman going in and out of a door built
into the bluff. A small child played close by.

They dug into the bluff
, Jan realized. Something like
what the Baileys had. Jan and Karl had read of dugouts and soddies back in Norway.
He glanced again at the thick clump of sod in his hand.

They had read how homesteaders cut thick, root-filled sod
blocks, a foot wide and two feet long, to build prairie homes. From what he
could see at this distance, his neighbors had burrowed into the hillside and used
sod bricks for the outside wall.

He watched for a few minutes, his imagination captured by
the picturesque curve of the bluff. He easily envisioned a house built there
someday, nestled in that hollow and facing the creek. For an instant he wished he
had arrived a year or two earlier and filed claim on the acreage across the
creek before his neighbor had.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods
, the Holy
Spirit reminded him.

Yes, Lord!

He looked again across their land and his heart swelled. He
turned east and saw his family and their wagons. He and Karl had many decisions
to make and much work to do—and soon, as quickly as they could manage.

“
Fader
, I am so grateful,” he whispered. “I want to
build our home right here, on this spot where we have talked this day.” Jan
looked around him, in his mind seeing the foundations of the house on this gentle
rise.

The oxen had been slow and the wagons heavily laden. Because
they had left so late in the afternoon their first day on the trail, they had
arrived at their claims midmorning on their third day—yesterday, the first day
of June.

On the trail to their land Bailey had built their first
fire. He showed Elli and Amalie how to gather dry weeds and roots for starter
and something else for fuel in place of wood—a dry, flat, gray patty. It had
been an interesting moment when he managed to convey to the women that they
were collecting buffalo “chips” for firewood.

Bailey had told them it would take him less than a day to
return home on horseback, and had headed back immediately. “Got t’ keep thet water
tank filled,” he grinned. “I’ll be home ‘bout nightfall.” He held his new ox on
a lead.

Jan and Karl had again thanked him. Amalie was especially
appreciative for the trade, and they were already enjoying their fill of milk.

Their new friend started his return home shortly after
reaching Thoresen land. Before he left Bailey had warned them of snakes. “You
be trampin’ or cuttin’ th’ grass down, b’fore y’all lay down t’ sleep,” he
said, demonstrating with a stick and with vigorous stomping. They hadn’t followed
his words, but they had clearly understood his pantomime.

As soon as Bailey was out of sight, Jan and Karl had rigged their
families a temporary shelter while the women watered the chicks and pigs. First,
Jan and Karl cut the grass and stomped out the ground around them. With Søren’s
help, they maneuvered two of the wagons until they were side-by-side with some room
between them. Then they unhitched the oxen and hobbled them nearby.

They unloaded the lumber wagon and sorted and stacked the
wood. They did not unload the other wagons; many of the things still packed in
them would remain crated up until they were under a roof.

With some of the lumber the men hammered together two
benches and a serviceable table that they placed between the wagons. They
strung tarpaulins over the table and benches and secured the sides and corners
of the canvas sheets to the outside edges of the wagons.

Karl and Jan nailed two tall, upright boards to the ends of
the table. They nailed a third board across the tops of the two. The boards
lifted up the center of the tenting over the tables.

The families now had a dry shelter under which to eat. They
would continue to make their beds on the ground under the wagons as they had
done on the journey from the train to their homestead.

Amalie’s reaction to the tent had concerned Elli. “I knew we
would not have a house for a while,” she whispered to her sister-in-law, “but I
have never been without a roof over my head . . . and the sky here
is so vast and, and this place they call the prairie so . . .”
Her voice caught at the end. “I am sorry. I am being silly.”

She swallowed. “I could hardly sleep the nights we were
coming from the train. The grass is so high and we heard so many strange
sounds.”

“Maybe you are a little low because of the baby,
ja
?”
Elli suggested. “You know how our emotions act when we are pregnant!”

Amalie nodded her agreement, but her eyes were already
shadowed from lack of sleep. Elli observed new worry lines around Amalie’s
eyes.

Elli told Jan about their conversation. “I do think it is
the baby, but perhaps not
just
the baby. I worry that she is taking all
these changes too hard.”

Jan snatched a covert look at Amalie and thought about what
Elli had told him.

The tent and wagons provide shelter in fine weather but . . .
but perhaps
w
e should think about something better soon, Lord
, he prayed
as he pondered all they must do on this new day.

After rigging the tent, Jan, Karl, and Søren built a temporary
chicken coop and pen for the pigs. The chicks raced around their coop and gobbled
their feed, and the two piglets, allowed to run free within the pen, seemed
healthy enough.

As for the hobbled oxen, they would be content to stay near
as long as they had grass and water. The men would remove the hobbles and move
them to fresh grass each day; Søren would water them twice a day.

The wellbeing of their livestock was a great concern to Jan
and Karl, especially the animals’ safety from predators. Leaving the oxen in
the open at night was not what they wanted, but until they built a barn, it
would have to do. They kept the two guns loaded and hanging upon one of the
wagon walls—within easy reach.

Jan’s reverie was interrupted by Søren’s appearance. “
Pappa!
Come see what I have found!”

Søren led the men a distance from their camp, crossing over
onto Karl’s property, to a slough nestled behind a low hillock. They explored
the low, marshy bog, finally locating where water seeped from the ground and
pooled. Reeds and a few saplings grew along its edges. A snake slithered away
as they cautiously pushed through the rushes.

Jan and Karl were delighted to find a natural source of
water on their properties. Eventually they could dig down to the spring, build
a dam, and divert the water to a holding pond for their stock. Until then they
could bring the ox and their cow to the slough each day to water them. It was
closer than the creek.

“This water will attract much wildlife,” Karl warned. “Venomous
snakes, too.”

“
Ja
,” Jan replied. “We must be careful, especially at
night. Perhaps, though, one evening we will lay in wait for antelope to come?”

“Good, fresh meat!” Karl laughed. “That would be nice, eh?”

The slough was not the only thing they discovered that day.
Søren called excitedly from beyond the slough. “
Pappa! Onkel!
Come
quick!”

When the men trudged around the slough to other side of the mound,
Søren was waiting for them, his face animated. “Look! This must be where
Herr
Gloeckner and his family lived!”

On the side of the hillock the faint outlines of a dugout’s exterior
wall could be seen. The wall was built from blocks of sod. Karl and Jan were as
enthused as Søren. They fetched tools and, with a little effort, were able to
clear and prize open the rough, weathered door.

Inside the air was cool. Neither Jan nor Karl could stand fully
upright inside the room, but they immediately grasped the blessing of the
place.

“Let us call the women to see this,” Karl suggested.

Elli and Amalie hung back, outside the door, unsure about
going in.

“It is safe,” Jan assured them. “The door has been closed
for more than a year—maybe two years. We have checked and found no bugs or
snakes inside.”

Amalie frowned, still unsure about a “dirt house.” Elli
screwed up her courage and followed Jan. Inside he lit a candle. In the yellow
glow she found a modest room about eight feet by eight feet. She looked up. The
ceiling had been hard packed and she was just able to stand upright.

“Karl and I think we could dig farther back,” Jan said,
“making it a little bigger. Until we have the barn built, this would be better
than the tents.”

“It is very small,” Elli answered carefully, “and you know
how Amalie is with bugs.”

“I do not see any bugs,” Jan looked about him. He held the
candle up and examined the corners of the room and then down to search the
“floor.” “Do you see anything?”

“Nooo,” Elli responded.

“Feel how cool it is in here? What a blessing it will be when
the heat of summer is on us,
nei
? And it is dry, too.”

His last remark got Elli thinking about the rain they had
received the night before. Yes, they had sheltered under the wagons and under
the tarps, but the ground had become wet. The edges of their blankets were
still drying out.

“Amalie, come in,” Elli called to her.

Reluctantly, Amalie ducked under the doorway. She stood up inside
and gazed around in surprise. “Ach! I thought it would be wet. Moldy.”

Elli took the candle from Jan. “Look. Look, no bugs,
Søster
.”

Amalie huffed but took the candle and scrutinized the room,
floor to ceiling. “Hmph. I do not know if I could stay in a dirt house.”

“You will find more bugs on the ground under our wagons,”
Elli replied practically. “Perhaps snakes, too.” Amalie huffed again,
nervously, but said nothing more.

They stepped outside, and the men pushed the soddy door
closed, making sure it was snug. Jan asked Karl, “What if we built out this soddy,
Bror
, and made it bigger? It would not take long, and I would feel
better if we had a good roof over our families, even a dirt one, wouldn’t you?”

Yesterday they had decided to build a small barn near the
division of their properties. It would be large enough for their stock for a
number of years and, initially, they had planned for the two families to set up
housekeeping in the barn. Now, though, they were considering the advantages of
expanding and moving into the soddy.

Karl nodded. “It is a good idea. Let us think on this more. Come,”
he said, putting their discussion on hold. “We need to get water. We should drive
down to the creek and bring back drinking water.”

The sun was crossing into the west when they loaded the
water can, washtub, and cauldrons into the wagon. Jan and Søren finished yoking
two oxen to the wagon and they set off toward the creek. As they approached,
their neighbors saw them coming and came down to their side of the creek,
waving.

“
Ja
, we saw you arrive yesterday,” a young man
hollered in Swedish. “
Välkomna!
Welcome! Come across and have some tea!”

Karl pointed the oxen into the rushing creek. The stream was
running high from spring runoff, but the water looked clean and clear.

The young couple introduced themselves as Henrik and Abigael
Anderson. Their toddler, Abel, watched the strangers soberly and clung to his
mother’s skirt.

Abigael was obviously “expecting.” She spread a quilt under
the sparse shade of a young cottonwood tree and offered them cold tea from a
jug cooling in the stream.

“We have been here two years,” Henrik told them. “My family
settled in Illinois fifteen years ago when I was a little boy, but of course Abigael
and I wanted to have our own land. You are
Norsk
,
ja
? We are
Svenska
,
but now Americans!”