No Distance Too Far (29 page)

“There’s plenty here. I’ll cook ’em up, and you can also take some with you if you leave tomorrow.”

“Where you heading next?” Calhoun asked as they passed the pancakes, ham, and eggs.

“Going south from here. That’s our last for this trip, unless Hjel-mer lets us know of more.”

“Wonder how he found Rude, and I never heard nothing.” Calhoun shook his head. “Don’t make much sense.”

“All those fields lying fallow don’t make much sense either,” one of the sons volunteered.

“Someone comes along, they can hay them later. If we had the money, I’d sure be in town seeing about adding that acreage onto ours.”

“Shame it’s not closer to Blessing, or my pa might be interested,” Trygve added.

“So you folks really did get in your own phone lines?”

“We did. The people of Blessing have always worked together. They set up a community bank way back in the early days,” Trygve told him. “Built a grain storage when they didn’t like the charges from the railroad. A flour mill was the last big project, and that took care of shipping our wheat out to the Twin Cities. The less we have to depend on the railroad the better. They keep trying to suck the farmers dry.”

Joshua listened to Trygve talking, amazed at his understanding of the political climate. The old saying that still waters run deep sure applied to this young man.

By ten o’clock they had the windmill frame standing, and the Calhoun men headed for the fields. Between the horses and the manpower, the windmill stood ready for the gear box and blades. The creaking song of the new windmill greeted the men when they returned their teams to the barn at the end of the day. The stock tank stood nearly full, and two of the girls were helping young Frank with the ditch digging.

Joshua showed the Calhouns how to maintain the windmill, reminding them again at the end that greasing the gears was most important. “Keep the brake ready for action too so you can shut it down in case of a high wind. Gets spinning too fast, and it might shear right off. Then you have a real problem.”

Calhoun pointed to his oldest son. “Clarence, I put you in charge of the windmill.”

“Yes, sir.” Clarence studied the platform way above their heads, slowly shaking his head. “That’s gonna take some doin’ to get up on that itty bitty frame.”

“Aw, you can do it,” his younger brother said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re not that far off the ground.”

“Well, let’s get eating, and these gentlemen can hit the sack so they get on the road again in the morning.” Calhoun walked beside Joshua. “I take it you want all your money in one lump sum?”

“Yes, sir. That was our agreement. I have the bill for you right here.” Joshua pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING they hitched the teams and headed out for their last job. Two days later they were on their way home to Blessing, since they’d not heard any different from Hjelmer. The dog was already looking better, thanks to Trygve’s feeding it twice a day. He’d not really stolen the dog, just not encouraged it to go home when it followed them down the road. It slept beside him under the wagon at night and sometimes rode along when invited.

“What you gonna call him?” Joshua asked.

“I thought to call him Rudy. What do you think?”

“Sounds fine to me. What’s your mother going to say?”

“She’ll say, ‘He’s your dog. You take care of him.’ Then at the first storm she’ll invite him into the house to lie by the fire.”

Joshua chuckled. “I think you got you a good dog there.”

“I think we got
us
a good dog. He’s part of the drilling team now.”

Joshua slapped the horses to pick up their feet. What if there was a letter from Astrid? At least he’d gotten his letters in the outgoing mail. They’d been gone from Blessing for just over three weeks, but it felt like a lifetime.

22

A
h, Astrid, my heart, you needn’t understand it all. No one does
but God himself.

Ingeborg realized she must have been praying in her sleep. She levered herself off the bed where she’d been resting in the lying-in room and crossed to the window to check on Blessing and at the same time inhale the heating morning air.
I must go home today, even
for a little while.
The thought took root instead of fluttering out the window to mingle with the nesting sparrows. The morning trill of the meadowlarks fell softly on her ears and brought a smile to her mind and mouth.

Most likely Astrid was already seeing patients. Falling back to sleep had been a rarely taken treasure, and instead of allowing guilt to drab the morning colors, Ingeborg chose to let her heart sing praises. She’d learned long years ago that praises to her Father were the antidote to many ailments of the soul and emotions. They seemed to help the physical too. Closing her eyes, she let the birdsongs seep inside. A hammer rang on nails somewhere in town, someone building something. Laughter floated by, most likely from the boardinghouse. This house remained silent, because Inga was still at Ellie’s. Thank God there was family nearby to take over child care and provide meals. Freda was indeed a godsend.

Ingeborg inhaled the warming air that tickled the sheer white curtains. May was nearly over. How time had picked up speed so much in the last years was another of those things beyond understanding.
Thank you, Father, that Astrid came home
. Amazing what a good night’s sleep had done for her. If only they could provide rest like that for Elizabeth. That thought carried her out the door. She could hear women visiting in the waiting room. A door clicked shut somewhere else. Should she get herself a cup of coffee or go up to check on Elizabeth? She climbed the stairs, her hand using the smooth walnut banister rather than just trailing it.

Entering the bedroom, she found Elizabeth yawning and stretching her arms. “Good morning.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I think it is.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No. I was just thinking of ringing Thelma.”

“Then have her bring up a tray for both of us.” She studied the patient. “Your color is better this morning.”

“Well, it is good something is.” Elizabeth smoothed a hand over her growing mound. “I’ve not felt him move.”

“You always refer to the baby as
he
.”

“I know. Thorliff wants a son, and I want Inga to have a brother. Since I grew up an only child, I’ve always wanted her to have siblings.”

Ingeborg sat down on the edge of the bed. “Let’s give him a listen, then.” She pulled her stethoscope from her apron pocket and set it against the lawn-covered skin. She moved it once, then again before finally picking up a faint beat. “Let’s get a bit closer.”

Elizabeth pulled up her gown to bare her belly, a frown deepening the lines on her forehead.

“Ah good. That’s better.” Better but not good. She moved the stethoscope to the other side. “And better still.” Silently she counted the beats. What was happening in there?

“May I listen?”

Ingeborg handed her the earpieces, watching Elizabeth’s face as she listened to her baby’s struggle.

She handed the instrument back and shook her head slowly, as if caught in a thick mud. “Weaker.”

“Ja, but still fighting. What would you tell a patient if you were the doctor on the case?”

“Bed rest, beef broth to build up the blood, and plenty of prayer. All the things we’ve been doing, and yet there is no improvement, only decline. I would probably say that the baby had only a slim chance and to call me immediately if anything changed. When the baby died, I would recommend a cesarean section to remove the dead fetus so the mother is not poisoned by the decay. If we could not trigger the body to go into labor, that is.” A tear sneaked down her cheek and into her ear. “But since this is my baby and the last one I am probably ever going to have the chance to hold in my arms, I want to kick and scream. I know I’ve been alternately railing at God and pleading for this little one’s life.” She paused, staring toward the window. “I have to remind myself to be grateful for Inga.”

A knock on the door and Thelma entered with a tray with plenty of food for two. “Thorliff and Mr. Jeffers are downstairs in the dining room. They asked you to join them, Ingeborg, when you have eaten, if you can.” She set the tray on the small table they kept by the bed for that purpose. “Astrid has started office hours.”

“Thank you, Thelma. Tell them I’ll be down shortly.” Ingeborg stood and, helping Elizabeth lean forward, stacked pillows behind her and helped her scoot upright. “Now, let’s have grace and enjoy the food. Later, Thelma, let’s move Elizabeth to the settee in front of the window, and I’ll help you change the bed. Astrid and I were talking about carrying Elizabeth downstairs to the porch to soak in some sunshine.”

Thelma nodded. “Good idea. Mr. Bjorklund can carry her down.”

“Or you could let me out through the window with a pulley and sling.” Elizabeth’s raised eyebrows reminded them she was teasing. “Easier on Thorliff’s back.”

“His back should be fine. You’ll be lighter than—” Ingeborg stopped, not wanting to remind Elizabeth how prominent her bones had become. A rather unattractive picture crossed Ingeborg’s mind of a figure all bones and belly.

Thelma rolled her eyes and picked up the water pitcher. “You need to drink more.”

“So I can relieve myself more and have to get up more and then get scolded for being out of bed.”

Ingeborg let her smile show. Elizabeth was showing more signs this morning of strength in herself. Maybe their fears were ungrounded. Until one listened to the baby’s heart.

A bell jangled downstairs. “That’s Astrid.” Thelma hustled out the door and down the stairs.

Ingeborg settled the tray table across Elizabeth’s lap and poured one cup of coffee. “Astrid says you are to drink this first, and then in a little while I will bring beef broth.”

“What is this?” Elizabeth sniffed but did as asked.

Another knock on the door and Thelma poked her head in again. “Remember the man with the raccoon bite?”

Ingeborg nodded.

“He’s here. Astrid wants your opinion.”

Ingeborg and Elizabeth exchanged sorrowful looks and sighs.

“I’ll be right down.”

“Tell Astrid I can taste honey, but I want to know what else is in this. Let’s move me when you can get back up.”

Down in the examining room the patient sat with head drooping and eyes closed. His wife sat in the other chair, her eyes never leaving his face.

“You have to do something!” Her voice cracked at the same time as tears overrode her strength of will.

“Has he been drooling long?” Ingeborg asked.

“Two, three days maybe.”

“You must be careful in caring for him. We will give you morphine in an elixir to control the pain.”

The woman’s eyes darted from one doctor to the other. “He will get better?”

Ingeborg looked to Astrid, her expression giving her answer.

“I’m sorry, but now that it has reached this stage, rabies is always fatal. The most we can do is keep him comfortable.”

“But . . .” The woman clamped her lips together and sucked in a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

“Barring a miracle.”

“I see.” Tears trickled down her cheeks and she sniffed. “So I take him home and give him the medicine and watch him die.”

Her husband groaned and swayed from side to side. He used the towel Astrid had given him to wipe his mouth. “Home.”

“Yes.”

Ingeborg helped him to his feet, and motioning the wife to take the other side, they supported him out to the wagon. The pallet in the back gave mute testimony as to how she had brought him in. After helping him crawl into the back of the wagon and watching him collapse on the quilts with a sigh, she checked his pulse. Racing. Should they keep him there, where they could administer the drugs as needed?

Back on her feet, she puffed a breath and turned to his wife. “You have two options. Take him home or leave him here.”

“To die either way?”

“Yes.” What a terrible word to utter.

“Then I will take him home.” The woman straightened her shoulders and clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. “The medicine?”