Blessing in Disguise (28 page)

“Oh, really?” Agnes Baard rose from the chair in front of the fire. The twinkle in her eyes told them she’d been watching out the window. “The coffee’s hot, and I brung some cake and such. Thought you’d like to invite me to coffee, and I knew with both of you at the school, the baking should be took over by one of the other of us.”

Mary Martha unwrapped her scarf and clasped the older woman’s hands. “If you don’t beat all. Now I reckon I can help at the school without feeling the least bit guilty.”

“Good, and besides, I got me an idea for Kaaren’s school that I thought you might like to hear about.” Agnes picked up a potholder and grasped the handle of the steaming coffeepot. “Coffee?”

Chapter 25

The Ranch
Late September

“You don’t intend to take me to Blessing?”

Kane shook his head. “I really don’t understand why you keep saying that word. You’re asking me something, but I don’t know what.”

Augusta shook her head in frustration.
God, what is he saying? If only I could make him understand that I must go. Mor needs me, and I promised to come help her
. Augusta clasped her shaking hands to her breast. “But you said Blessing. I thought you meant . . .” At his look of confusion, Augusta felt like stamping her foot or using other language that he wouldn’t understand but might help her feel better, even if they were words Mor had ordered her to never use. What had he meant when she asked if he was taking her to Blessing the day she arrived?

She thought back to her arrival on the train. Now that she thought about it, he had acted as if he expected her. How could he have? She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “Uff da!”

She looked at Kane, who was studying her with what—perplexity on his face? Was that pity she saw in his eyes? When she thought about it, he was most likely as confused as she.

Why, oh why didn’t I learn the language like Hjelmer said? Why was I so stubborn, so sure I knew best?

But she knew the answer to that one. Because she had always been that way. So sure that she knew best. And it had been true. As the oldest daughter, she helped raise the younger children. That was the way of things. And many times she had kept Hjelmer from getting into trouble.

Ah, if only Hjelmer were here now to get me out of trouble
. She almost laughed at her plea. Did God hear her? And would He be merciful?

Or was she stuck here in this wilderness?

She looked up at Kane again. How could she make him understand?
But do you really want to leave this fine man, his beautiful home and prosperous ranch?
The thought made her catch her breath.
Of course she wanted to leave—had to leave. After all, even with Lone Pine and Morning Dove here, she was an unmarried female living in an unmarried man’s house. What would her mor say?

How can I figure out what she wants?
Kane shook his head. If he’d had any idea being married to someone who didn’t understand the language would be this difficult, he might never have sent that letter.

Be honest
, he ordered himself.
You’d do whatever it took to have this woman in your life
. But how do I help her?
Guess I better send Lone Pine over to Gedicks’ and bring his mother back
. He sighed.
Can’t anything go the way it is supposed to?
He thought a minute.

“Look, how about tomorrow we go to a neighbor’s house to visit?” He racked his brain for the other word for German.
Deutsche, that’s it
. “His mother speaks Deutsche, and maybe you can talk with her somewhat.” He spoke slowly, knowing that she understood some words now.

“We go Deutsche house?” She strung together the words she did know.

Kane nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“To-mor-row.” While she repeated the word, the look on her face said understanding and saying the words weren’t even close to the same thing.

“We’ll ride the horses. That’s faster than the wagon.”

“Ride.” Her eyes lit up, the blue so intense it smote his heart. “Ja, we ride—to Deutsche?”

“Tomorrow.” He turned to the clock on the shelf by the fireplace and showed the hands going around twice. “Tomorrow.”

“Ah, tomorrow.” Again that flair of blue on understanding.

At least if she understood enough German and Mrs. Gedicks understood enough Norwegian, maybe they could begin to make sense of all of this. Kane watched her a moment longer. She seemed content with that.

“I’ve got plenty of work to do, so I better get on it.” He raised his voice. “Morning Dove!”

The Indian woman appeared in the door, her moccasin-clad feet making nary a sound. “Yes?”

“You want to bake extra apple turnovers for us to take with us tomorrow? Bag up some apples too. I’m not sure they have any apple trees over at Gedicks’ yet.”

“Fine.” Morning Dove beckoned to Augusta. “You come help?”

Augusta nodded. She glanced longingly out the window on her way to the kitchen. How fine it would be to go riding again today, as she and Kane had done the day before. But she knew the word “help,” and there were always things needing doing here just like in a home anywhere.

While in the kitchen peeling apples, she let her mind wander. Her mor must be frantic with worry by now. Or maybe they had given her up for dead. How would anyone find her clear out here? She must be a long way from Blessing. Was there any way she could send a message?

If only she could get back to the town where she’d disembarked from the train. If she had the money, she could take the train back to St. Paul and ask them there about Blessing. The more she thought about it, the more she tried to remember the way back. She could ride it far faster than they had come with the wagon.

But how to get money for the ticket?

The telegraph! She could let her family know where she was, and they would send money for a ticket. In the meantime, maybe she could work at the hotel for a place to sleep and eat.

The knife slipped and sliced into her finger. “Ow!” She dropped the apple and knife in the pan and clamped her fingers on the oozing red slash.

“Hurt bad?” Morning Dove looked up from rolling pie dough.

Augusta shook her head, held up the finger, and pantomimed wrapping it.

“I get.” Morning Dove returned with a strip of well-worn sheet and, after wrapping it around the finger, tied a neat knot.

“Thank you.” Augusta ignored the taunting voice within that called her several names, clumsy being one, and returned to peeling and slicing the apples. When she took a bite out of one slice, she closed her eyes to savor the crisp sweetness. Nothing tasted more like fall than fresh apples. The frost had only intensified the flavor.

She frowned at her bandaged finger. What a careless thing to do.

With both turnovers and pies in the oven, she and Morning Dove went back out to the garden to continue digging the root vegetables for the cellar. Potatoes, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, and parsnips. Each had a bin of its own and sand to cover the many layers. They would have plenty for the winter, and Morning Dove had already lined the shelves with crocks of pickled cucumbers, dried corn and beans, and canned beans too. Fruit, both canned and dried, and jams lined the other side.

The apples would be stored in the barrels on the west wall next to the mound of pumpkins and winter squash. Dried dill and other herbs and grasses hung in bunches from the rafters, along with braids of onions and some other things that Augusta didn’t recognize. Each time she brought a wheelbarrow load down the ramp that covered the wooden steps, she stopped in amazement at the bounty stored in the earthen room.

The next morning she rushed through her daily ablutions to get ready to ride to the people Kane had spoken of. She packed their saddlebags after breakfast, donned her wool jacket that matched her newly brushed skirt, and stepped out onto the porch.

The sound of horses drew her gaze to the east where a group of blue-uniformed men were riding up to the ranch. Two wagons with waist-high racks brought up the rear. Morning Dove came up behind her.

“The army come for horses, pigs, and cattle.”

Augusta got the drift. There would be no riding for her and Kane this day. After watching the man in the gray felt slouch hat greeting Kane and Lone Pine, she sighed and turned back to the house. The pies and turnovers would go to feed the soldiers, along with whatever they would make for dinner. She hung up her jacket, took out an apron, and wrapped it around her waist. Perhaps tomorrow they could go on the visit.

After all, what difference did one more day make?

Chapter 26

Blessing
October 1

“There now, what do you think of that?”

Ingeborg stared at the thirty-by-forty-foot hole the men had dug three feet deep and were now setting in center posts to eventually help hold up the roof. The walls were to be made of eighteen-inch-wide sod blocks to help keep the cheese house cool in the summer yet prevent freezing in the winter.

“It looks huge.”

“It should. Better’n half the size of the barn. We’ll build a trough in the center, like the well house, to store the cream cans.”

“And the back half or some part will be all shelves for ripening the wheels?” Ingeborg nodded as she studied the empty hole. “Ah, we might have to buy more milk cows to make enough cheese.”

“We can get some milk from the other farmers around. Baard said they’d bring milk cans over every other day, and if Johnson isn’t feeding all his extra to the pigs, he will too.” Haakan dropped down to the floor. “Besides, you don’t have to fill it all at once.”

Ingeborg pushed a chunk of dirt into the hole with the toe of her boot. With the weather turning, they needed to hurry with the building, but Haakan loved to tease her.

“Thanks.” He bent over to retrieve the clod and tossed it out. “You can come tamp this floor down if you like.”

“Sure, me and all the babies. You want I should roll Samuel around on the floor? Trygve, now, he could hand you nails, and Astrid? She’d be up that post so fast you couldn’t leap quick enough.”

“I know, I know.” Haakan raised his hands to ward off her barrage.

“Don’t you know better than to tangle with our womenfolk?” Lars said, tamping down the dirt around the fifteen-foot post. They’d angled two-by-four braces down to the floor and pegged them in with stakes. A long beam that waited off to the side would be set on the posts to hold up the rafters.

Ingeborg turned at a cry from the door of the house. Trygve was awake, and soon Samuel would be too. Astrid had followed her outside, and she and Paws, Thorliff ’s dog, were playing in the grass beside the cellar door.

“Ma, the babies are awake.” Astrid at four was just a few months older than Trygve, but she put him in the baby category along with Samuel. She waved a stick, and Paws crouched down on his forelegs, tail waving in the air, waiting for her to throw it.

“I know. Thank you, Astrid.” Ingeborg turned back to her husband. “Thank you for such a fine building.”

“It’s not here yet.”

“I know, but it will be soon. How many are coming tomorrow to help with the raising?”

“I’ve no idea, but the word has spread.” Haakan looked over his shoulder at Lars’ bidding. “You might bring out a cup of coffee in a while. We sure could use some.”

Ingeborg nodded. “Ah yes, it must be more than an hour since the last one. How do you stand it?” She waggled her eyebrows at her laughing husband and headed for the house. Trygve could manage to get into trouble right under her nose, let alone without someone watching him. Last time he’d taken the spinning wheel half apart. In his case, silence rather than noise was a time to go checking on him. And he had disappeared from the doorway. She broke into a trot and took the stairs two at a time.

Bursting into the kitchen, she stopped short. “Trygve Knutson, you get down from there.”

The little boy turned, flinched, and flailed as the box tower he’d built on top of the chair shoved against the cupboard tilted.

Ingeborg leaped in time to grab him as his child-designed ladder gave way. The boxes clattered to the floor. “Uff da, what am I going to do with you?”

“I was hungry, and you didn’t come.” Trygve gave her a look that said it was all her fault.

A yell from the bedroom let her know that the noise had awakened Samuel, and he always woke up hungry.

“Now see what you did?” She set Trygve on a chair at the table.

“Sammy’s hungry.”

“As if I didn’t know it.” She righted the other chair, set the boxes off to the side, and took down the cookie jar that the child had been aiming for. “Where is Astrid?”

Trygve shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Astrid?” Ingeborg raised her voice to be heard above the now squalling Samuel.

“Here, Ma.” This voice came from upstairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing dolls.”

“Good girl.” Ingeborg glanced up the steep stairs. “You want a cookie?”

“Milk too?” Astrid appeared at the head of the stairs, rag doll clutched in the crook of one arm.