The Reaper's Song Page 8

  “Don’t know why not. The wedding isn’t for a couple of weeks.” He reached for her hand. “You’re not trying to tell me something, are you?”

  Penny stared at him, feeling about as blank as she knew her face looked. “Telling you something? About what?”

  “About needing a bigger house. Are you in the family way already?”

  “Sorry, no. But that’s the second time today someone mentioned it.” She told him of her strange conversation with Metiz and about the beautiful things they’d traded.

  Later that evening, with Ephraim settled on a pallet at the sack house, Penny and Hjelmer both sat at their kitchen table, she with her record books for the store, he with a farm equipment catalog.

  When he looked up to see her chewing the end of her pencil, he said, “All right, what is going on in that golden head of yours? I can hear ideas popping like popcorn.”

  “If I could find someone to bring in fresh-baked bread every day, and if along with the cheese we had some kind of meat, people off the train could stop and buy their dinners right here and not have to go on to Grafton. Reverend Solberg said today he would love to buy bread here if we had it.”

  “So, ask Agnes if she would like to bake for you. Seems to me she’s been down in the dumps lately.” He turned another page. “See, here’s a picture of that tractor I told you about.” He turned the catalog so she could see.

  “It looks gigantic.”

  “It is kind of unwieldy right now, but Hiram said that will change.”

  “This Hiram, he made a big impression on you.” She looked up from studying the picture of the tractor. The man steering it looked like a dwarf, the thing was such a monster. “This tractor looks like it could eat a team of horses and not even burp.”

  Hjelmer chuckled. “Steam is the power of the future. You watch.”

  Silence fell for a time. Penny finished adding her columns and put the record book off to the side. “Hjelmer, I’ve been thinking.”

  Hjelmer groaned. “How come every time you’ve been thinking, I have more to do?”

  “That’s not true.” She stopped. “Well, not always anyway.”

  “You got any coffee made?”

  “Now, don’t change the subject. About this machinery thing.” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “Out with it. You have that look about you.”

  “Well, Mrs. Valders was in today for a few things. She only comes when Anner is off to Grafton or Grand Forks or some such. He doesn’t want her to trade here, just like he won’t ask you to shoe his horses or sharpen his plowshares and such.”

  “I know. All because he says I cheated him out of that land. I bought that piece fair and square. In fact, I paid Booth more than the going rate.”

  “Anner is holding a grudge.”

  “Ja, and Pastor Solberg preached on that last Sunday. Sometimes I think that the people who need to hear the lesson the most ignore it the easiest.” He shut the catalog. “Why, now I wouldn’t sell him that land if he were the last man on—” He stopped his ranting enough to catch Penny’s raised eyebrow. “Well, I won’t. Besides, Anner can’t afford it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Word gets around.”

  Penny laid her pencil down. “You could lease him the land.” She kept her voice soft and gentle.

  “Johnson is farming it just fine. If he says he don’t want it anymore, then I’ll make other arrangements.”

  “I just thought if . . .”

  “If what?”

  “If he was farming that land, then he’d, well, he’d feel obligated to—”

  “I don’t want no one coming to me because of obligation.” Hjelmer got to his feet and paced the room. “If he wants me to fix his wagons and such, fine, I’ll do that, but if he wants to drive clear to Grafton, that’s his problem.” He turned and strode back to the window. “Besides, he’s only hurting himself. No skin off my nose.”

  Penny watched the red rise on Hjelmer’s neck. While he talked as if this didn’t matter, his body screamed otherwise. Was there more to this than she thought? Hjelmer hadn’t done anything illegal when he’d bought Mr. Booth’s land and sold part of it again to the railroad. She had talked with Haakan and been reassured about that. But it had been a mite sneaky. In the “gray area,” as her aunt Agnes called it.

  And Hjelmer had made a good profit. That’s what stuck in the craw of some of the farmers. Besides, he still had the extra land the railroad hadn’t bought up.

  She’d heard her husband referred to as “the gambler.” He had promised her he wouldn’t play poker anymore, at least not for money. But if the men got together to play cards, she didn’t mind if he went.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. Was it all a matter of jealousy?

  What would it cost them in the long run?

  You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “No. I told you I’d take care of the store.” Hjelmer slipped the neck loop of the canvas apron over his head and knotted the ties behind his back. “If someone needs a blacksmith, I’ll put up a ‘see me out back’ sign. Besides, all the women will be at the church anyway.”

  “Ephraim said he would help.” Penny checked her bag to make sure she had plenty of quilt pieces. Since she started selling fabric in her store, she kept the leftovers from each bolt for the quilting bees.

  “You want me to train him in the bookkeeping and wrapping of packages?”

  “No. I will do that this week.” She glanced around the kitchen one more time, sure that she was forgetting something. “You can always send Ephraim over to get me if you need me. It’s not like the church is miles away or anything.”

  “Penny.” His tone of voice and the look in his eyes brought a smile to her lips and chased away the frown between her eyes.

  She laughed. “I’m acting like a brand-new mother hen trying to keep track of her one and only chick, aren’t I?”

  “That’s a fair description.” He fluttered his hands like he was trying to shoo chickens into the coop, or out of it, as was the case in this instance. “You’ll be late.”

  “And I live the closest.” As Penny gathered her bags, the bell tinkled over the shop’s door. “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

  Hjelmer raised his right eyebrow.

  Penny slipped out the back door as he parted the curtains to the store. If she was like this about the store, what would she be like with a new baby? she wondered. The thought brought on another smile. What a glorious Saturday morning! Today they were hoping to finish tying off the quilt the ladies had made as a wedding present for Goodie and Olaf. Usually they quilted the pieced wedding-ring pattern in even stitches, but there hadn’t been time to get another one finished since she and Hjelmer had married in the spring. As Agnes had said, they’d better get more quilters the way the weddings were popping up.

  Ingeborg had promised to make sure Goodie stayed home with something special to do, and since the twins were doing poorly with the mumps, along with Andrew and Ellie, this was perfect. Penny sneaked a little skip into her fast walk across the four acres to the church. Now that the Bjorklunds had plotted Blessing out in acre parcels ready for sale, she thought of the people who might buy there.

  Olaf Wold managed the sack house, where the community’s wheat was stored, and had broken sod to build a home on the acre he’d bought right next to it. That was another thing the community would be doing before harvest—raise a house for the newlyweds.

  Would there be more businesses? Like what? With the blink of an eye, Penny could see her store expand to include an eating establishment, much larger than the two tables she’d been thinking of. What if they had a hotel? Or at least a rooming house. She’d heard tell of someone who wanted to open a saloon.

  “I know that’s one thing I’m going to bring up for discussion today,” she promised the crow that flew overhead, his raucous cry a bass note in the singing of the prairie grasses. While Haakan and Lars had hayed this entire area, the grass had s
prouted again, thanks to the spring rains. Now the stalks stood golden like wheat, only riper and bending to harmonize with the always present wind.

  “You surely do seem happy this morning,” Agnes Baard called from her wagon seat.

  “Oh, Tante Agnes, on a day like today, who wouldn’t be?” Penny said with a grin as big as the sun.

  “Anji for one.”

  “How come she’s not with you?” Agnes’s daughter usually came along to take care of the smallest children while their mothers were busy quilting.

  “Her neck is still puffy from the mumps. My land, that epidemic sure ran through the families. I think every child in the area had chipmunk jaws, some sicker than others. Ingeborg told me even the twins had them, but Kaaren said that the night before last a miracle happened at their house.”

  “A miracle?” Penny tied Agnes’s horse to the hitching post and removed the bridle. Then while her aunt climbed down, Penny unhitched the horse and tied him again to one of the wagon wheels on a long line so he could graze. Together they carried in their baskets of food and quilting supplies. Back before they had a church and the group was smaller, they met in homes and the hostess made a pot of soup or stew, and the others brought the rest of the meal. Now they all brought sandwiches and a dessert of some kind.

  “So, tell me about the miracle.”

  “I’ll let Kaaren do that. After all, it’s her story.”

  “Then why’d you bring it up? You know how much I hate waiting,” Penny said.

  “Seems you’d be over that by now. The good Lord put you in the waiting room for training, I think.”

  “Waiting for Hjelmer was different. And you have to admit, it paid off.” Penny began laying out the pieces of material she’d brought.

  “Waiting is waiting.”

  “Speaking of waiting, how’s Petar?”

  “He’s not waiting, he’s pining. That little chit running off like that near to broke his heart.”

  “I never did like Clara Johnson much, anyhow. She always thought she could get any boy if she shook her blond curls and twitched her—”

  “Penny!”

  “Nose.” The younger woman raised her eyebrows. “Why, Tante Agnes, what did you think I was going to say?” Her chuckle carried a bit of impishness in it. “Besides, I heard that things weren’t going quite so well for Miss Johnson. Like she’s still a ‘Miss,’ not a ‘Mrs.’ As you always said, she made her bed, now she has to lie in it.”

  “That might be what I said, but I ain’t too sure that’s proper talk for church, and besides, that’s gossip.” Agnes sat down with a sigh.

  Penny studied her aunt. Agnes used to be a full-figured woman, with a laugh that shook not only her bosom but a body as strong as a man’s. Now her feet seemed permanently swollen, as though the rest of her had seeped downward and pooled between her toes and her knees. While Agnes’s smile still came regular-like, Penny realized she hadn’t heard her aunt really laugh in a long while. Ever since her last baby was stillborn. And that was some time ago.

  “Tante Agnes?” Penny knelt at her aunt’s knees. “Are you all right? Truly?”

  “Why, a’course, child. What could be wrong? As you said, this is a day for everyone to be happy.”

  Penny took her aunt’s gnarled hands in her own. “You would tell me . . . if . . . if something were indeed wrong? Wouldn’t you?”

  “Ah, Penny, my eldest ‘daughter,’ you know I couldn’t love you more if you’d come from within me.”

  Penny nodded. She saw Ingeborg standing in the doorway but didn’t let on when Ingeborg raised a finger to her lips. She looked up at her aunt.

  Agnes had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she could see something the others didn’t.

  The jingle of harness and other voices let Penny know they didn’t have much time. “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “I know.” Agnes came back. “There’s something, but I ain’t sure what. I been asking of the Lord, but He ain’t seen fit to answer yet.”

  “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “No more’n usual. I get tired more easily.” Agnes cupped her hands around Penny’s jaw. “The good Lord is just giving me a chance to thank Him for all things, even when I’m not too sure what they are. Or where they’re leading. You might just think once in a while to say an extra prayer for me.”

  “I will.” Penny got to her feet as a group of women came chattering through the door. As soon as she had a chance, she cornered Ingeborg.

  “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Tante Agnes?” she asked without preamble.

  Ingeborg shook her head. “Not for certain, but she’s never been the same since the stillborn baby. I was there with her. She took it mighty hard in her heart, and it seems like her body never got over it either.”

  “Was it a hard birth?” Penny kept her voice low and tried to look unconcerned, as if they were having any normal kind of visit.

  Ingeborg thought a moment. “Not so terrible hard, but the baby had been dead some time. I think she knew that long before the pains came.” Ingeborg leaned a bit closer. “Your tante Agnes sets great store by babies, you know. She don’t feel right if’n she don’t have one hanging on her skirts or in her arms.”

  “I know.”

  “Guess it’s about your turn to have the babies and let her love ’em as much as possible.”

  “Guess we’ll have to leave that in the good Lord’s hands, as someone we know would say.”

  “Would say what?” Kaaren, with the pieced quilt-top over her arm, stopped beside them.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Ingeborg raised her voice. “We better get at it, if we’re going to get this done. Goodie suspects something is going on, since she helped make two others.”

  Laughter rippled through the gathering group. While two women set up the wooden frame, several others laid out the sheeting, then the wool batting made from the poorer-grade fleece from around the legs and necks of the sheep. Since Ingeborg had the largest flock, she donated many of the battings. Finally the top was laid in place and the three layers pinned and fastened into the frame.

  “You think maybe we should tie this one, what with everyone being so busy with getting in the garden and such?” Mrs. Dyrfinna Odell asked.

  “I thought we already decided to tie it,” Penny said.

  “Well, you know, Miz Peterson would think then we don’t care about her as much as the others. Once you start a tradition, you got to make sure no one feels slighted,” Mrs. Hildegunn Valders said, surveying the quilt on the frame. She shook her head. “This one don’t have so many nice colors as the one we made for Solveig.”

  “I brought extra materials,” Penny said. “But that’s for the next top, isn’t it?”

  “You want we should take some of those squares out and add in others?” The timid voice of Mrs. Brynja Magron could hardly be heard above the children laughing outside.

  “No. We have not the time for that. It will just have to be as it is,” said Hildegunn. Certain that no one would argue with her, she took a seat at the frame. “Brynja, you sit there and, Dyrfinna, you there.” She pointed to the seats on either side of her. “Penny, do you want to take the other side? Or Kaaren?”

  “Why don’t we put two to a side, and we can get finished faster?” Ingeborg suggested.

  “Then who will lay out the next one?”

  “And cut the pieces?”

  Brynja and Dyrfinna spoke nearly at the same time.

  “I wish Kaaren would read to us while we sew,” Brynja went on. “Remember when she read the Psalms? That was one of my favorite meetings.”

  Kaaren and Penny exchanged looks, their thoughts obvious. Brynja Magron with two opinions at one meeting? Would wonders never cease?

  “Well, I’m sure if Kaaren is willing . . . that does leave us with one less to stitch, you know.”

  By this time everyone had taken their places, some around one table choosing pieces as soon as they were cut and stitching the squares tog
ether for the wedding-ring pattern. The others sat around the sides of the quilt frame.

  “Before we begin with the reading, I have something I wish we could talk about.” Penny raised her voice so all could hear her.

  “Why, whatever would that be?” Mrs. Odell asked.

  “That will wait until we have been edified by our readings,” Mrs. Valders said with a nod of her head. The bit of lace she wore on her upswept hair bobbed as if it, too, thought other ideas frivolous.

  Penny bit her lip to keep from saying what she was thinking, but a wink from Ingeborg and a secret smile from Kaaren helped her settle back. A nod and a smile from Agnes beside her made Penny feel like one of them, not like the young-woman-who-should-listen-to-her-elders feeling she got from Mrs. Valders.

  Kaaren began with Psalm 118. “ ‘This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.’ ”

  “Amen” came from several places.

  As she continued moving from one Scripture verse to another and reading some that were requested, even the shouts and laughter from the children outside seemed to fade away at the beauty of the words and the power of the promises. “Fear not . . .”

  While Kaaren was searching for another psalm just requested, one of the women confessed, “It is easy to say not to be afraid in the summer like this when we are all together, but sometimes in the winter when the wind and the wolves are howling at my door, I’m so frightened my teeth chatter. I will hold this day in my mind to comfort me when winter comes again.”

  “That wind makes me think of Satan prowling around. It is him, not the wolves howling, I feel sure,” Ingeborg added with a shudder.

  “Nevertheless, God says He will gather us under His wing as a hen does her chicks. That picture comes to me when I begin to be afraid,” Kaaren said softly. “And again, He says He will hold us in the palm of His hand.”

  “And against His bosom.”

  “He says He is always with us.” Mrs. Odell turned to Agnes. “Can you beat that?”

  “Now, now, ladies, let us remember to be reverent. These aren’t words to be taken lightly,” Mrs. Valders scolded.

  Penny felt her aunt nudge her knee. She ducked her chin so the smile that tickled the corners of her lips wouldn’t seem like sacrilege. Did God really expect them to go around with long faces all the time?