Lars’ foot will most likely have to come off,” Haakan said to Ingeborg one evening at the supper table.
Ingeborg looked up from cutting the venison steak into small pieces for Andrew. “There must be some other way to save it. How will Lars get around with one foot missing?”
“I could carve him a new one. Wouldn’t be good as the real thing, but better than nothing. I heard tell of men after The War between the States who hobbled around on less than that.”
“Ja, they hobbled.” Ingeborg shook her head. “Kaaren has lost so much in her life already. How can she endure this one more thing?”
“Lars is the one losing the foot, not Kaaren.”
“I know.” Ingeborg got up for the coffeepot.
“Is there a doctor in St. Andrew?”
“No. The closest one’s in Grand Forks.”
“How do you cut off a foot?” Thorliff looked up from mashing his potatoes.
“Eat your supper.”
“I am. How do you cut through the bones?”
“The same way we cut through wood.”
“With an ax?”
“No, more likely with a saw.”
“What would you do with the foot?” Thorliff propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, the light of curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
“Thorliff Bjorklund, this is not a subject we need at the table. Finish your supper.”
“But, I—” Her look quelled any further questions.
Haakan quailed under the look she shot him, too. Andrew banged his spoon on the table and laughed as if someone had just told a marvelous joke or tickled his tummy.
Ingeborg rolled her eyes heavenward. “Hu tu me tu!”
After the children were tucked in bed and sleeping, she brought up the subject again. “We have been massaging Lars’ foot and using both hot and cold water soaks, but the blood circulation doesn’t return, and the pain is getting worse.” She thought about her dwindling supply of herbs. Something in there should be good for frostbite and the blisters that were now forming, but if the gangrene took hold, she had no idea what to do. Either cutting off the entire foot or amputation back into the healthy flesh seemed the only options.
“I will take the foot off if we need to.” Haakan sat by the fire carving on a piece of wood. The shavings mounded at his feet and released the sweet smell of cedar into the warm air.
“Have you done such before?”
He shook his head. “Have you or Kaaren?”
“Nei. In Nordland we had a doctor who attended such things. My mor was the local midwife, so I learned much from her, and then after we arrived here, Metiz taught me about the local roots and herbs. I need to grind up some more willow bark to help ease the pain. I wish we had some laudanum. That works so much better.”
“You want I should go to St. Andrew to get some?”
“If you rode, you could make the trip fairly quickly.” Ingeborg picked up her knitting that always lay ready for her in the basket by her chair. As the needles began their clicking song, she heaved a sigh. “Somehow we have to save that foot.”
Later, after Haakan had made his way to the barn and his bed in the far stall, Ingeborg took out her Bible and turned to the stories of Jesus healing the lepers. Wasn’t this chilblain much like leprosy, only instead of the diseased part falling off, it had to be cut off? Either way, the sufferer lost a part of himself. And for a man without a foot, the prairie could exact a terrible price.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the carved back of the chair. “Father in heaven, I know not what to do. The pain is making Lars talk gibberish at times, and Kaaren is weak from the little one she is carrying. Please, help us. As you healed the lepers with your touch, I ask you do so again.” She rocked and prayed, prayed and rocked. Wood settled in the stove with a gentle whoosh. Paws barked outside the door, then settled back down again just as she was about to go see what was bothering him.
“Thank you for Haakan who has come to help for the summer.” He’d looked chastened like a small boy when she scolded him and Thorliff at the supper table. She could feel the smile that rose from her midsection and bloomed on her face. He made her laugh at times, and he made Thorliff laugh, which was even more important. No eight-year-old boy should bear the responsibilities that he did. A sigh followed the smile. What would they do when the man left to return to the Minnesota north woods as he planned?
She could hear her own mor’s voice as if she stood right behind the rocker. “Let the day’s own troubles be sufficient for the day.” She couldn’t worry about fall. She had to get through the spring first.
And the red blisters forming on the dead, white flesh of Lars’ foot.
She took the willow bark over to Kaaren’s in the morning. “Here, make a tea of this for him to drink. It will help ease the pain.”
“I know.” Kaaren accepted the packet of powder. “Willow bark.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand. “I think I’ll drink some, too.”
“Haakan said he’d go to St. Andrew for laudanum.”
“But Haakan needs to be out in the fields. Besides the pain, being unable to help with the work is what’s driving Lars insane. We had such big plans for this season.” She poured water from the steaming teapot into a small kettle and added some of the willow bark. “How much should I use?”
“About that much again. I’ve been wracking my brain for something else to try.” A line of shouted gibberish erupted from the bed. Andrew tangled his fists in her skirt and stared, big eyed, at the bed. Ingeborg picked him up and jiggled him on her hip. “There now, it is only Onkel Lars.” At another shout, Andrew buried his face in her shoulder and whimpered.
Kaaren poured some of the steeped liquid into a cup and crossed the room. “Lars, here, drink this.” She sat down on the board that edged the rope-strung bed and leaned forward to help her husband sit up to drink. Instead, he waved an arm, catching her on the side of her head and knocking her backward. The cup flew up in the air, liquid flying every which way.
“Hu tu mi tu!” Ingeborg ran across the room and helped Kaaren sit upright. “Has that happened before?”
Kaaren shook her head. “He’s not been violent. I know that the pain is driving him wild, but this—” She rubbed at a reddening spot on her cheek. Tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away. “We have to do something, Ingeborg. Haakan is needed in the field, and knowing you, you’d like to be out there, too. I will ride into St. Andrew.”
“And who will watch over Lars?” And the boys? Ingeborg thought but didn’t add.
Kaaren shook her head. “I don’t know what to do!” She wrapped her arms around her middle and swayed back and forth, trying to rock the pain away.
Ingeborg tied Andrew in the rocker with a couple of spoons to play with, returned to the stove, and once again filled the cup with warm liquid. “First, we must get this into him so he can endure the pain.” She carried the cup back to the bed. “Lars! Lars! Listen to me.” His eyes fluttered open, vague and without sense. “Lars!” The command in her voice cut through the vapors clouding his head.
“I hear you, Ingeborg. Need you holler so?”
“Thanks be to God,” Kaaren whispered.
“Drink this. It will help with the pain.” Ingeborg propped him up with an arm beneath his shoulders and held the cup to his lips.
He made a face but drank the brown liquid. Pain had sculpted canyons in his face from nose to chin and furrows across his brow. He lay back when finished and took in a deep breath. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Ingeborg and Kaaren swapped looks of consternation.
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m an invalid, you know. I’ve seen people with frostbite and chilblains before. I know how the treatment must go.” He looked to his wife, now sitting on the edge of the bed again. “If we must take off the foot to save the man, so be it. Just don’t wait too long to make the decision. I want to be around to see that babe of ours born and help him grow up.”
“Him, him. Don’t these men ever think about having daughters to care for them in their old age?” Ingeborg set the cup on the table. The twinkle in her eye belied the brusqueness of her tone.
“After a boy, we will have girls, then more boys and then more girls.”
“Ja, you will keep me breeding all the time. Who will teach that school all of these children of ours are going to need?” Kaaren laid a hand protectively on her belly. “And besides, I think this one is a girl. She will help me with all those boys you want.”
Andrew, tired of playing with his spoons, began to whimper in his chair.
“I better get about my chores.” Ingeborg stood and crossed to the rocker where Andrew beamed her a smile fit to break any woman’s heart. She untied the dish towel and lifted him into the air, kissing his ruddy cheeks and blowing on his neck. The child’s chortles made even Lars smile around his pain. “I will see you later.”
Kaaren followed Ingeborg out the door. “If you want to ride to St. Andrew, I will care for the boys and make the supper. If you go now, you would be back in time.”
“Ja, I thought of that, too. Let me tell Haakan what we plan. I just wish Metiz would come back. She might know of something to help. Laudanum will only dull the pain, not cure the foot.”
Ingeborg strode across the field to her own soddy, carrying Andrew because she had no time for him to examine every worm and leaf along the way. If curiosity were wealth, Andrew would be the richest child in the world. Thorliff was out with his sheep, and Haakan was plowing to the west. She could see him moving slowly down the furrows, the rich earth turning over behind him. They should have two teams out there so the planting could be finished. If it wouldn’t scandalize Haakan too much, she would join him in the morning. Why was it men reacted so strongly to a woman’s being capable of handling teams and machinery? If one of them felt like washing dishes or baking bread, she surely wouldn’t be offended.
She quickly slipped her men’s pants on under her skirt, bundled some bread and cheese into her pockets, and snatched up Andrew as she went out to the corral to bridle the mule. One of these days, they should think seriously about getting a saddle. She led the mule and carried Andrew out to the field to tell Haakan the plan.
“I’m riding to St. Andrew for the laudanum. Kaaren will care for Andrew and make the meals for the day. Would you please tell Thorliff what is happening?” The words came out in a rush, for with the first ones, she could tell he wasn’t pleased.
“I told you I could go.” He pushed his hat back on his head.
“I know that. But there is so much to be done in the fields, and with only one man—well, I just thought I am the most dispensable one.”
“But you don’t have a sidesaddle or a saddle of any kind.” One of the horses stamped its feet and started to move forward. “Whoa, there.” He tugged on the reins. “It’s . . . it’s—”
“Unseemly, I know.” Ingeborg heaved a sigh of frustration. “But out here on the prairie some things are more important than what’s seemly or not.” Her inflection on the word said clearly what she thought of it. “Besides, I have my britches on.” She lifted the edge of her skirt to show the hem of the men’s pants she wore. “I will be all right, and with both on, I’ll be warmer, too.” A brisk breeze had sprung up. While not as warm as it had been, still the prairie would dry quickly because of it.
Andrew began to wriggle on her hip. “Down, Mor, down.”
“In a minute. You want to ride on the mule with me?”
A grin turned his cheeks to rosy apples. “Me ride.” He reached for the mule’s bridle, so close beside him. The mule jerked back.
“I better be going.”
“You’ll be careful?” The look of concern that creased Haakan’s forehead made a warm glow begin in Ingeborg’s middle.
“Ja. This old mule can lope all day. We’ll be back before dark.”
“We’ll have lamps in the windows, just in case.”
The glow spread. “Here, if you could hand him up to me?”
Haakan took Andrew. Ingeborg turned to belly herself up on the mule.
“Let me help you.”
She paused and turned to face him. He offered a hand on one bent knee, Andrew clutched in the other arm. While the baby tipped the man’s hat off his head and chortled in glee, the man held her gaze with his.
Frissons of delight raced each other up and down Ingeborg’s back. With a swallow and a nod, she placed her foot in his hand and swung aboard the mule, settling her skirts down as far as possible on her legs. When she looked down at him from her fussing, he stared up at her, his eyes blue like bits of the sky above had come down to visit earth.
Her breath caught in her throat. “M-mange takk.” The words cracked. The wind lifted his hair, giving her the insane urge to smooth it back. He held the baby up to her, and in the passing, his fingers touched hers, warm, safe, and comforting.
“Hurry home.”
She thought of his words as she turned the mule to go. Looking back once, she saw him retrieve his hat and slap the dirt off it on his knee before settling it back in place with both strong hands. “Gidup, Jack.” She clapped her legs against the animal’s washboard sides. Was that a promise she’d seen in his eyes? Surely he had felt the same when their hands touched?
She shook her head. What was the use? He was leaving in the fall, so she’d best not be mooning over a man about to leave. “Come on, mule.” She hugged Andrew to her, and the mule broke into the same ground-covering lope that would take her to St. Andrew and back.
After depositing Andrew in Kaaren’s waiting arms, Ingeborg again set off north across the prairie. She let her straw hat fall behind her shoulders on its ribbons and lifted her face to the sun. She had freedom for the day. What a heady thought. There were no meals to cook, no bread to bake, no cows to milk, and although she would probably be back in time for evening chores, no child clung to her skirts. She was free!
The temptation to take her braids down and let the wind blow through her hair shocked her back to sensibility. She shook her head and laughed at herself. One would think she were twelve instead of twenty-eight. Ducks quacked overhead on their northward flight. A meadowlark sang his spring courting song. The rich smell of burgeoning spring on the prairie made her sniff more than once. She gazed ahead at the hurt-your-eyes green of the growing grasses rippling before the wind. “Mange takk, Lord above. What a wondrous thing you have created here.” And since there was no one around to remind her that whistling was not proper for women, she pursed her lips and, in the cadence of the cantering mule, whistled “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” while the words ran through her mind at the same time.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, Ingeborg was wishing she’d brought a flask of water along. She chewed the dry biscuits with a slab of cheese in each and reminded herself to be grateful for the food and to quit wanting more. The brown water that flowed in the Little Salt didn’t appeal, so she knew she wasn’t too thirsty.
The first thing she asked of Mrs. Mackenzie, the wife of the proprietor of The Mercantile, was a drink of water.
“Of course, of course.” She trundled off to the living area behind the store and returned with a cup of cold, fresh water.
“Mange takk,” Ingeborg said before draining the cup. “That surely was good.”
“I have the coffeepot on. Would you like to take a few minutes and join me in a cup?” The woman with hair the color of a robin’s breast, and the same habit of cocking her head to see better as a robin on a worm hunt, smiled and motioned to the door leading to the parlor.
While Ingeborg had enjoyed the ride, the thought of a chair rather than the ridged back of the mule sounded mighty tempting. “Only for a minute. I need to get home before dark.” She followed her hostess around the counter and through a curtain into their living quarters. She sank into the indicated chair and leaned back with a sigh. Oh, how good the cushioned seat with a back felt.
“Here we go.” The woman returned with a tray that held two steaming coffee cups and a plate of cookies.
Ingeborg raised one of the cups and sniffed, her eyes closing in bliss. “Ah, coffee. The smell alone makes the heart brighten.” Taking one of the cookies, she dunked it in the coffee and bit off a hunk. “Now this is perfect.” She gazed around the room, comparing it to the dark soddy in spite of herself. Real glass windows on two walls let the sun in, and white wallpaper with blushing peonies trailing in stripes made the heart glad. A braided rug lay in front of each rocker, and another with an orange cat curled on it fronted the round heating stove.
“Such a cheerful home you have made here.” She listened in delight to the bonging of a grandfather clock that stood tall by the door to the kitchen. “So long since I’ve heard a clock. Funny, the things we used to take for granted have so much more value now.”
“That is so. Mr. Mackenzie gave me that clock for our anniversary. Fifteen years we been married, ten of them here in St. Andrew.”
“You came when the town was nothing but a dream, then?” Ingeborg sipped her coffee. She shouldn’t be here enjoying herself when Lars needed the laudanum so desperately. One more minute, she promised herself. That is all I’ll take.
“Yes. My husband believed the settlers would come, and when people come, they need a store. He didn’t want to homestead, too backbreaking he said.” She looked around the room and then back at Ingeborg. “ ’Sides, he’d been raised in a store, and his daddy gave him a start for this one. I thank the good Lord for bringing people like yourselves to settle here. We will have a fine town here, lessen the railroad passes us by.”
“The railroad is coming this far north on the west side of the river?” All thoughts of staying for only one more minute flew out of Ingeborg’s head. “I knew they went to Canada on the east side of the river, but will they be coming over here, too?”
“That Mr. Hill, he plans to cover Dakota Territory with railroads. The farmers can ship their crops easy that way. You mark my words, there’s big changes coming.”
Ingeborg set down her cup. “Well, I thank you for the coffee and the information, but I better be on my way. Lars Knutson, my brother-in-law, is suffering from frostbite and the chilblains mighty bad. He and Mr. Bjorklund got caught in that last blizzard on their way home from here.”
“Oh, my. We wondered about them when the storm hit. Land sakes, bad frostbite is nothing to joke about.” She rose to her feet. “Come, Mrs. Bjorklund, let’s get you on your way. What is it you’ll be needing today?”
Ingeborg followed the bustling woman back into the store. “I need medicinals for treating his foot. A bottle of laudanum, and . . .”
Ingeborg stared at the bottle of whiskey Mrs. Mackenzie set on the counter. Should she take that along with the laudanum? Her far always swore by the disinfecting power of liquor in addition to its medicinal properties to help pain. But then, he liked a drop or two on occasion, besides.
Mrs. Mackenzie set the small bottle of laudanum beside it. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Ingeborg looked at the jar with peppermint sticks. “I’ll take two of those, both the bottles, and please wrap them well so they won’t break in the sack on the way home.”
“That I will do. When will you be bringing cheese again?” the woman asked as she wrapped the bottles in several layers of paper. “I swear there must be a line from house to house here. When folks hear there are Bjorklund cheeses in the store, they line up on the porch.” She finished her bundling, wrote the list in her book, and smiled across the counter. “You come back soon. It’s time we women had a quilting bee, or some such, so we could all get to know each other. Oh—” She slapped her hands on the counter. “I have something for you.” She disappeared through the curtain and returned a minute later. “This here’s a slip of the geranium I have growing in my kitchen window. I thought you might enjoy a bit of color, too.”
At Ingeborg’s “mange—” Mrs. Mackenzie raised a hand. “No, don’t say thank-you. That’ll put a blight on it. Just pretend you snipped this off yourself.” She passed the sack over the counter. “We’ll be praying for Mr. Knutson, too. You be careful going home, now.”
“Mange takk for the coffee and cookies.” Ingeborg smiled and nodded in response to Mrs. Mackenzie’s raised hand. “I know. And one day soon I will have a start to give someone else.” Ingeborg left the store with the sting of tears behind her eyes. She sniffed as she unlooped the mule’s reins from the hitching post. Did she dare mount here?
She looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight, so she led the mule to stand sideways beside the steps. Then she swung aboard and trotted west, out past the church and the few remaining houses. At the end of town, she kicked Jack into a canter and headed home, her treasured sack clutched in front of her so it wouldn’t get banged around and break anything.
Cold, stiff, and sure she had sores where she’d sat, Ingeborg swung off the mule as the first stars poked holes in the heavens and winked at the earth below. A warm spot glowed around her heart at the lamp beckoning in the window. Paws yipped beside her, bringing Thorliff through the door to fling his arms around her waist.
“What is this, my son? Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m just glad you are home.” He hugged her tighter.
“Did you think I would not come?” She stroked his hair back and tipped his face up to look at her. “I am here and all is well. You take the mule out to the barn and give him a good feeding, all right? No water yet, though.”
Thorliff hugged her again. “I will.” He grasped the mule’s reins and swung up on his back. “Tante Kaaren has supper ready. We already ate.” With that he drummed his heels on the mule’s ribs and trotted across the field.
Andrew met her at the door and clung to her skirts. Kaaren stood at the stove, already dishing up a plate of food.
“You had a good trip?” She set the plate on the table and reached for Andrew. “You let your mor have some supper, now, den lille guten.”
Ingeborg handed her the sack. “I bought some whiskey, too, and there is a treat in there for the boys when Thorliff comes back. How is Lars?”
“Sleeping for now. I gave him enough willow bark tea to drown a cow. Thorliff read to him for a while after the men decided what needs to be done next in the fields.”
Ingeborg squashed the instant flair of resentment that again they had decided farm matters without her. “He should sleep real well with some of this.” She raised the small brown bottle of laudanum. “You just put a couple of drops in a cup of water. I thought perhaps we could use the whiskey in between times. My mother used it for cleansing wounds. It might help on the open blisters.”
“Mange takk, Inge, for going to town like this. I know that is a long ride by wagon, let alone on horseback.”
“Horseback might not have been so bad, but that mule has a ridge for a backbone big enough to—” She looked up to see a smile curving Haakan’s mouth. The heat rushing up from her neck flamed across her face. “Excuse me, I . . . I better wash.” Turning to bury her hands in the bowl on the cabinet counter made her wish she could bury her face as well. Anything to cool it off.
She sat down to eat, composed at least on the outside. Haakan took the chair across from her and Kaaren the one on the end. Between them, they peppered her with questions until she raised her hands in surrender. “How am I supposed to eat and answer all you’ve asked?”
Kaaren rested her cheek on Andrew’s soft hair. “Sorry, Inge, I didn’t think. Tomorrow we will plant that slip of geranium. It will bloom so pretty in your window.”
Lars moaned from his bed. “Kaaren.” His voice sounded weaker than when she left in the morning.
“Coming.” Kaaren dipped a cup of warm water from the reservoir, added three drops of the vile brown liquid, and crossed the room. If this didn’t work, what would they do?