The Reaper's Song (29 page)

Sunday morning getting ready for church threw the entire household into a frenzy. By the time they all loaded into the wagon, Zeb could only dream of riding north—by himself. Thank God for Bridget, who’d taken to washing and mending the meager clothes Manda and Deborah owned, so that took away one of Manda’s excuses.

“Don’t want to go to no church,” she muttered.

“Too bad. We’re goin’.”

“Won’t understand a word they say. Why can’t they all talk English?”

“You know why. What if you moved to a strange country?”
I’m not cut out to be a father
. “Now, get your clothes together. Katy is helping Deborah. And wash your face.” Third time he’d said that. “What you got against soap and water anyway?”

“You just want to go so you can sit by Katy.”

She had him there. “Get in the wagon,” he told her as he mounted his horse.

In spite of the looks from Katy’s mor, Zeb did manage to sit next to Katy in church. And the hymns were familiar. He sang the English words along with some of the congregation, and the others sang Norwegian. He didn’t understand the sermon, but then, it gave him free time to think about the young woman beside him. Did she have any idea he was thinking about her?

Manda gave him an elbow in the ribs.

He brought his gaze forward. Had he really been studying Katy’s hands? He was going to have to do something about that girl. Manda, not Katy. Did she think she was his keeper or what?

He followed the family down the aisle and out to shake the preacher’s hand, Katy right in front of him.

“Good to see you, Miss Bjorklund.” Reverend Solberg spoke in Norwegian, but any dolt would recognize the delight on his face and the extra time he held her hand.

Zeb felt like pushing forward and . . .

“Good morning,” his angel said in English. “I . . . I am pleased to see you.” Her eyes lit up at her triumph.

Reverend Solberg laughed with her. “You are coming along just fine. We’re going to be having a class in speaking English at the school starting on Tuesday night. You are welcome to come.”

Zeb couldn’t understand a word he said, other than Tuesday and English.
Is he ever going to let go of her hand?

He rode on home ahead of the wagonful of laughing and teasing people. The Bjorklunds made everyone feel a part of their family. Yet he didn’t dare join in. One of these days Haakan was going to ask some penetrating questions. He could see it coming, and he couldn’t give any answers. Better to be silent than tell a lie.

That night as Ingeborg sat brushing her hair in preparation for
bed, she turned to Haakan. “What do you think of Zeb?”

“Mmm.” Haakan squinted his eyes to think better. “He seems a good young man. He knew the hymns today and knew his way around the Bible. You can tell he’s had a godly upbringing.”

Ingeborg waited, her arm automatically continuing with the brush strokes, her waist-length golden hair pulled around over one shoulder. Finally she said. “Do I hear a ‘but’ there?”

“I guess so. I get the feeling he’s hiding something, but then he and I haven’t had much time to really talk. I tell him what to do, and he goes and does it. Always does a fine job too, especially with horses and people. See the way he gets around Manda? Now there’s a strong-willed youngster if I ever saw one.”

“You think they’re related?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I just get the feeling there’s a lot of story there that we’re not hearing.” She rested the brush in her lap and turned to face him. “We could maybe help them if they’d trust us enough to tell us what’s what.”

“Why’d you ask?”

“Well, you know our Katy.”

“Do I ever. Now, if I wasn’t already married to the best wife in Dakota Territory, I might . . .”

She smacked him on the hip with her hairbrush. “Haakan Howard Bjorklund, how you talk.”

He rolled closer and tweaked the end of the loose braid her fingers had made while they talked. “Ingeborg Bjorklund, always remember this. No matter that I
look
at other women sometimes. Men do that. But I will always come home with you and you only.”

Ingeborg felt her eyes fill. “Oh, Haakan.” She leaned back against him and snuggled close when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

It was some time later before they fell asleep, spoon fashion, with him curved around her back, keeping her safe.

Her last thought before drifting off with a smile on her face was
Perhaps a baby may come of this.

They planned the house-raising for Metiz for midweek. Instead of asking the entire community, they just invited the Baards and all the Bjorklunds. Still, they had six grown men, Petar, who thought he was full grown, and five youths. Goodie insisted on coming with
Hjelmer and Ephraim, who came in from helping at the Valders’. Penny remained to run the store.

“I’m going to miss out,” Penny moaned as she added two pies to the wagonload of supplies. The kegs of nails and glass for the windows had come in on the train the day before.

“You can come help with Lars and Kaaren’s house on Saturday. Everyone is going to be there. That way you can close the store.” Hjelmer checked to make sure he had all his hand tools.

“You want I should send Manda back to help you?”

Penny brightened. “What a wonderful idea. I like that little girl. She doesn’t take any guff from anybody.”

“Way I hear it, calling her ‘girl’ is what gets Thorliff and Baptiste in bad with her. She’d just as soon knock ’em down as spit.”

“Spit!”

Hjelmer turned to her, the twinkle in his eyes making her smile. “Way Reverend Solberg told it, she won the spitting contest out behind the school by two feet or so.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Good for her. Teach those young pups a thing or two.”

“Maybe you’d better set her to quilting or some such ladylike occupation.”

“Hjelmer, get on with you. Goodie, get him out of here before I . . .”

“Before you what?” Hjelmer gave her a swat on the behind before mounting to the wagon seat.

Penny watched them leave until the jangling bell above the front door called her inside. She pushed aside the calico curtain that draped the door between home and store. “Why, Mrs. Magron, how are you? Seems like forever since I saw you last.”

“This fall’s been mighty busy, what with harvest and all.” Mrs. Magron twittered just like the bird Penny so often thought her like.

“Hope your grain was heavy as the others’. This has been a good year so far.” Penny took out a cloth and wiped the dust off the counter. “What can I find for you today?”

Mrs. Magron looked at her list, then handed it to Penny. “Seems I keep finding more things I’m out of. Did the needles come in? I broke my last one yesterday. I just don’t think they make them as strong as they used to.”

Penny led the way to the stack of cloth-covered bolts. By the time they’d settled on navy wool for a coat, black serge for a skirt,
and various pieces for shirts, Penny had fabric draped all over everywhere.

“Miz Bjorklund?”

“Yes. Oh, Manda, you’re just the person I want to see.” She waved her hand at the mess they’d made. “You think you can roll these bolts of material back together and stack them over there?” She pointed to where the other bolts were stacked.

“A’course.” Manda smiled at Mrs. Magron and went right to work.

Some time passed before they had a lull in customers. When the bell tinkled as the last person walked out the door, Penny breathed a sigh of relief. “Manda, you are one fine answer to prayer today. If you hadn’t been putting things away, I’d have to close up to do so. You hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Manda leaned on the broom she’d found to sweep out the dirt clods carried in on boots. The street hadn’t dried out all the way from the rain the day before, and Dakota soil stuck to boots like leeches on skin.

“So how are things out at the farm?” Penny asked a bit later as they sat down at the table.

“All right.”

“I hear Deborah is getting stronger all the time.”

“She is, thanks to the old Mrs. Bjorklund. She took us in with her just like we was long-lost family. Hamre and Zeb, they sleep out to the barn for now.”

Penny smiled to herself. Manda had said more in these few minutes than all the times she’d seen her before. She’d turned the store sign to “closed” and then together they’d put the dinner out. While she’d cooked a big roast beef, no one had gotten off the train today for dinner, so it was just the two of them.

“Here, have some of these candied carrots.” Penny passed the bowls of food across the table. “I heard tell you licked them boys in a spitting contest.”

“’Tweren’t hard.” Manda stared down at her plate. “Ol’ Missus Valders came by and said young ladies shouldn’t do such things.” She looked up, her eyes dark. “I ain’t no young lady, and I ain’t never gonna be one.”

“What do you want?” The question just slipped out.

“I want to go home.”

“Where is home?” Penny had a feeling she was about to find out more than the others had.

“Southwest of here. On the other side of the Missouri River. My folks got a homestead there, and . . . and . . .” Manda took a bite of meat and chewed. After swallowing, she continued. “My ma died and Pa went for supplies, but there was a big snowstorm and he never came back. I figured maybe he got lost or something. Deborah took sick and I done the best I could takin’ care of her. Then that old red cow up and drowned herself, and that’s when I run into Zeb MacCallister. He come to our soddy lookin’ for a place to get out of the storm. Pa said don’t let no strangers in, but I already met him. Zeb, I mean. So he waren’t no stranger—not really.” She cut and chewed again. “You think I done right?”

Penny wanted to put her arms around the girl and hold her close. “Yes, I think you did the right thing. How long since your mother died?”

“Last winter, sometime after Christmas. The baby she was borning died too. My pa, he . . . he had a hard time of it.” She glared across the table. “But he didn’t run off and leave us. I know he didn’t.”

“Whatever made you think that?”

“One of the neighbors come by, and he said that. But I think he wanted our homestead, and if’n we don’t get back there, he just might get it. Zeb, he left a letter for my pa.” Her voice dropped. “If he ever gets home.”

At the desolate sound of the girl’s voice and the sorrow in her eyes, Penny left her chair and knelt by Manda. “Oh, my dear, losing your ma and pa is about the hardest thing in this whole world. Mine were both killed in an accident when I was just a bit older than you. I still miss them all the time.” She put her arms around the stiff body and smoothed the girl’s hair. “Such a heavy burden you bear.”

At that Manda collapsed against Penny’s shoulder, her tears soaking the gingham dress and apron straps. “I want my ma and pa back.”

“Me too. Oh, me too.” Penny comforted and patted the girl until the storm of weeping passed. Finally she handed Manda a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Here, blow your nose and mop your eyes. We got to think of a way to make sure you get to keep the homestead.”

“You tell the sheriff, and he’ll put Deborah and me in the orphanage.”

“Over my dead body.”

At that a smile tickled the sides of Manda’s mouth. She sniffed
and blew again. “Deborah woulda died too if MacCallister hadn’t come along. She was right sick. She ain’t so good yet, but the old Mrs. Bjorklund, she’s taking good care of her. Them’s good folks, the Bjorklunds.” She smiled at Penny. “All of them.”

“Thank you for the fine compliment, Manda, my dear. Now, as I see it . . .” Penny returned to her chair and propped her chin on her fists. “You can be right glad you still got your sister. I ain’t seen mine since the day I moved in with my aunt and uncle Baard.”

“Oh. That’s bad. Deborah’s the most special person in the world to me. I woulda died too, if’n she did.”

“Well, as you can see, I didn’t die, and now we got to figure out a way for you to keep the land. Where did you say it was?”

After Manda told her, Penny sipped her coffee and let her mind work on the problem. “You have any other relatives?”

“Not so I know.”

“And MacCallister is no relative.”