Blossoms on the Roof (4 page)

Ben was surprised. “You'd forgotten? I kept thinking about him all day.”

Jakie came running to them from across the yard, his short legs churning as fast as they could go. After him galloped the yellow puppy. Jakie yelled, “Father is gone. Father's gone for the night.”

Though only ten, Ben was big for his age. He picked up Jakie the way Father often did, twirling Jakie's feet off the ground. “We knew that,” he said. “Father told us this morning that he's going away.”

“And he's coming home tomorrow,” Jakie said, putting his arms around Ben's neck. “Do you know what we're having for supper?”

“No. Tell us,” begged Polly. Her mouth watered already at the thought of a special treat.

“Pancakes with fresh butter. Grandpa brought some butter today!”

Polly dashed up the porch steps. She could hardly wait for those pancakes.

Mother smiled at the children. With a wooden spoon, she was stirring something in a blue china bowl. “Guess what! The chickens laid three eggs today. Spring is coming!”

“Ah, that's why we can have pancakes,” Ben said wisely. He knew that pancakes needed eggs. He also knew that the chickens stopped laying eggs in cold weather, but in the spring when they could get outdoors and eat more good things, they started laying again.

Watching Mother drizzle the butter into the pan reminded Ben of something. Grandpa had been here today. He brought the butter. “Mother, did you give the umbrella back to Grandpa?” he asked.

“Yes, I did.”

“I wish it hadn't been ruined.”

“He was sorry that it had happened,” Mother told Ben, “but he knew it was an accident, and he was glad to see that Father had repaired it.”

Soon the first pancakes were sizzling in the pan. The golden-brown pancakes were crisp at the edges and soft as a feather pillow in the middle. “Too bad Father isn't here to help us eat these,” Polly said.

Ben's mouth was too full of pancake and sticky-sweet syrup to say anything, but he nodded his head vigorously up and down in agreement. Not having Father at the table was the only bad thing about this supper.

5

Free Land

W
hen they got home from school the next day, there he was on the porch waiting for them. “Father!” screamed Polly, running to meet him.

Ben ran too, and soon Father had an arm around each of them. “You were gone so long,” Polly whispered.

“It's good to be back,” said Father. “Now come in, and I will show you something.”

On the table lay a big piece of paper. “A map!” exclaimed Ben, bending over to take a closer look. “Here's where we live.” He put his finger on the state of Indiana.

“The railroad company gave me this map,” Father said, pointing to the big letters at the top that read: GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY. “Do you see this railway running west and north from Chicago?” His finger traced a line that looked like a twisting ladder. On and on went
his finger, across the states of Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota.

Then his finger stopped on a square-shaped state. “This is North Dakota, where the United States government is giving away free farmland.” He paused, looking at Ben and Polly. “And we are going up there to get a home of our own.”

“What?” said Ben. He looked from Father's face to Mother's face. They were both smiling.

“Yes,” said Father, “we are moving to North Dakota. That's why I went to La Grange County. Some families from there are starting off this month, and we plan to join them.”

“North Dakota,” said Ben slowly, trying to get used to the idea. He studied the map again. “Why, that's almost up in Canada!”

Father nodded. “Right on the border.”

“It must be awfully cold in North Dakota,” Ben said. “Some people in Canada live in houses made of snow.”

“You must mean the Eskimos,” Father said with a chuckle. “They live much farther north than the border. Canada is a huge country.”

“How far away is North Dakota?” Polly asked in a small voice.

“It's more than six hundred miles to the area where the other families have claimed homesteads.” Father pulled another paper from his pocket. “Now this shows you the area where we will live—Rolette County. Here's the
railroad going up to the town of Rolla. Here's Island Lake. We plan to get a homestead in Island Lake Township.”

“Will we be near the lake?” Ben asked eagerly.

“Maybe. I won't know exactly where our farm will be till we get to the land office,” answered Father.

Ben was full of questions. “How big will the farm be?”

“We will be getting a hundred and sixty acres of free land. Well, almost free. We must pay sixteen dollars to the land office in order to stake the claim.”

“Imagine!” marveled Ben. “One hundred and sixty acres. We can grow bushels and bushels of grain.”

“Not in the first year,” Father said.

“Will we have to cut down a lot of trees the way Grandpa's father did when he came to Indiana?” Ben asked while recalling Grandpa's pioneering stories.

This brought another chuckle from Father. “There are no trees in this part of North Dakota. It's prairie! Acres and acres of flat land. No stones. No trees.”

“Then why can't we plant crops this spring?”

“Because the prairie is covered with tough, high grass. We will plow as much as we can to plant a garden and maybe some flax, but it won't be much the first year,” he said again.

Ben said soberly, “Plowing prairie grass will be hard work for Jasper and Rob.”

“Yes, I learned that many farmers use four-horse teams or oxen.”

“Will there be a log house on our farm?” asked Polly.

Father looked at her. “There will be no house at all, Polly. We will need to build one. That is another reason why we cannot plant many crops this spring.”

“A sod house, Polly. We are going to build a sod house,” Mother told her.

Polly's eyes were round and questioning. “What is a sod house?”

“Why, we plow up the prairie grass to make strips of sod about five inches thick, and we pile up the strips like bricks to make the walls,” Father explained.

Polly blinked. “The house will be made of dirt?”

“Earth and grass and roots, all together in a nice solid strip,” said Father. “I'm told that sod houses are quite warm in the winter.”

“But,” said Ben, “what will we burn in our stove if there are no trees?”

Father's finger came down on the map of North Dakota again. “Do you see this funny-shaped area? That is a mountainous area where there are lots of trees. It's called the Turtle Mountain Reserve because that's where the Indians moved to when the white men began settling the land.”

“Indians!” exclaimed Polly, her eyes growing wider still.

Father patted her hand. “Friendly natives, Polly. Anyway, what I wanted to say is that we can fetch all the wood we want in those hills. Wood for burning and wood for building.”

“You said the house will be made of sod,” Ben said, reminding him.

“Yes, but we'll use wood sooner or later.” Father folded up the maps. “I think Mother wants to put supper on the table.”

Ben had more questions. “Have those other men seen the land already?”

“Yes. They traveled out there last spring and saw many acres of wheat fields. Lord willing, some day there will be wheat fields on our farm too. The United States is growing so fast that there is a great demand for wheat. We can make money growing wheat,” Father said with a dreamy note in his voice.

“And out in North Dakota, there'll be no Paddy Lang coming to see us about the rent,” Ben said happily.

Mother brought the plates and cups. “We'll be like Abraham—going to a land we haven't seen.”

“We need to be like Abraham,” Father said earnestly. “We need to have faith in God and obey Him too.”

Between mouthfuls of potato-and-turnip soup, Ben had more questions. “Will we go by train, Father?”

“Yes, we will,” said Father, smiling when he saw how the children's faces lit up.

Polly clapped her hands. “Oh, good! I've never had a train ride, but Jakie has. Remember, Jakie, when you went with Father and Mother on the train to Pennsylvania to visit our other grandpa?”

Jakie put down his spoon and wrinkled his forehead. “Train?” he repeated, trying to remember.

“To think you had a train ride but don't know it anymore,” Polly said sadly. “Well, you were only one year old. Just a baby, actually.”

“Now we're going on a train again?” Jakie asked. All this talk about North Dakota and train rides was more than his four-year-old mind could grasp.

“Yes. You know how a train looks. We've seen one coming into town,” Ben told him. “It's that big, smoking engine on the track with dozens of cars coming along behind. And we'll be in one of those cars!”

“Car? Ride in a car?” Jakie asked.

“Oh, now you're all mixed up,” Polly said, laughing. Jakie had sometimes seen an automobile too, and he knew those “horseless carriages” were called cars. “The railroad cars are like—like houses on wheels being pulled along by the big engine.”

Ben turned to Father and asked, “What about Jasper and Rob? How will they get to North Dakota?”

“There will be several cars set aside for livestock,” Father answered. “You see, on this train that is leaving Goshen on March 28, there will be many, many families who are moving to North Dakota—not just the five Amish families we know of. So there will be cars for passengers, cars for freight, and cars for livestock.”

“So we can take our cookstove and this table and—and
our beds?” Polly looked around the room, spotting so many things she would hate to leave behind.

“We can take all the furniture that's necessary,” replied Father.

Ben was puzzled. “But, Father, where will we get the money for the train fare?”

Father's eyes glistened as if a few unshed tears lurked there. “Both your grandpas will loan us money, and so will Uncle Ben.”

“Oh,” said young Ben. He pictured his uncle toiling away in that dingy little cobbler shop, mending people's harnesses and shoes. He was pretty sure that Uncle Ben did not have a lot of extra money. Yet he was willing to help Father with this pioneering venture. Suddenly Ben understood why there were tears in Father's eyes.

6

Eskimos and Huskies

I
can hardly wait to tell Susan,” Polly said, panting. She had to run to keep up with Ben as they hurried down the lane the next morning.

“And I wonder what John will say. He'll probably wish he could go too,” Ben said. “There he comes around the bend now.” Off Ben sprinted to meet his friend.

“Susan—we—we are going to North Dakota!” puffed Polly as soon as she reached the other girl.

Susan stopped short and stared at Polly. “What? You are going on a trip? I thought you said there's no money to pay the rent.”

“No, no,” Polly replied, laughing. “We are not going on a trip. Well, yes, we are, but then we'll stay there—in North Dakota where we can get a free farm from the government.”

Susan started walking slowly, scuffing her feet in the mud. “Oh. You are moving away. But not soon I hope.”

Her voice sounded so sad that Polly hardly knew what to say. “Well, yes. At the end of this month.”

“Oh, Polly, I'll never see you again.” Two big tears pooled in Susan's blue eyes.

Suddenly Polly felt like crying too. Up to now she had only thought of the exciting parts. Moving to North Dakota had sounded like a marvelous adventure, but this was different. Now she started to think of all the friends she would leave behind.
Is it true? Will I never see them again?
In a very small voice, she said, “Maybe we'll come back to visit. On the train, you know.”

“Oh,” Susan said again just as forlornly as before. “How far away is North Dakota?”

“More than six hundred miles.” Polly's voice was almost a whisper.

“Six…hundred…miles. Why, that's like the other side of the world, Polly.”

Polly swallowed hard. Was that a sob, trying to push up into her throat?
I must be brave
, she thought to herself. “No, it's not, Susan. Father showed us on the map. North Dakota is in the United States so it can't be on the other side of the world.”

“Oh.” It seemed Susan had run out of things to say.

Meanwhile, Ben and John were also talking about
North Dakota. John's first comment was, “Why, that's almost in Canada where the Eskimos are.”

“No, they—”

John cut Ben off by saying, “My father heard that some Amish are moving up there, but I never dreamed it would be anyone I knew. Guess what Father said about North Dakota, Ben. He said the winters get so cold that the smoke from your stove freezes before it ever leaves the chimney.”