“And I know a little bird I will put inside and keep there and feed her good to try to fatten her up!”
“Like a hen for market?”
“Oh no! This hen is not for sale.”
“Even so, if you want to fatten her up in this cage, you'll have trouble getting her in, since you forgot the door.”
He laughed fully, raising his golden head till the sun caught it brightly against the blue sky. “Such a smart little hen she is that she noticed a thing like that. Such a foolish Swede I am that I forgot to build a door.”
“Or windows either!”
“Or windows either,” he acknowledged playfully. “You will just have to peek out between the logs.”
“How can I peek out when I can't get in?”
“You will just have to get in over the top, I guess.”
“That should be easy enough on a roofless house!”
“Does the little hen want to try it?”
“Try what?”
“Try out her birdcage?”
“You mean go inside?”
“Ya, I mean go inside.”
“But how?”
“Come up here, my scrawny little chick, and I will show you how.”
“Come up there?” It looked mighty high from where she stood.
“I have had to look at you in those awful britches all this time. This is the first time I see some advantage in you wearing them. You can climb the walls easily. Come on.”
Anna was not one to waver before a challenge. Up she went! Hand over hand, toe over toe. “Be careful,” he called down, “chickens cannot fly!” Twelve logs high she went, and Karl leaned to grab her arm and help her swing a leg over the top of the wall. Of course, she swung the leg out behind instead of before her, almost knocking poor Karl off his perch. But he skittered backward and Anna made it safely up. The world seemed magnificent from this height! She could see the straight rows of the vegetable garden and their corn crop. The wheat lay like a green waving sea below her. The backs of Bill and Belle were so wide! She'd never realized how wide! The roof of the sod hut had a squirrel's nest up against the chimney. The road out of the clearing was so straight and shaded.
From behind her Karl's voice came. “All this is ours, Anna. Have we not plenty?” He edged forward, put an arm around her waist and drew her back into his spraddled thighs, pulling her tightly till she was forced to lean her head sideways against his shoulder. He smelled of fresh wood and sweat and horses and leather and all things wonderful.
He rubbed her ribs, just beneath her breasts, while she reached behind her to put a hand on his neck. “Yes, Karl, I know now what you mean when you talk about having plenty. It has nothing to do with amounts, does it?”
For answer, he squeezed her ribs a little harder, then whispered, “Come, we will go down inside,” and swung to do so.
Together they climbed down until they stood within the four new walls. The sun coming through the timbers fell upon the interior in bars of light and shadow that angled across their faces, shoulders, hair. It was like a cool, green cathedral with a blue sky ceiling. It was encompassing, private, pungent with the clean, crisp scent of wood. Automatically, they both looked up. Above the walls a fringe of branches swayed lightly in the summer breeze. Instantly, they both looked down. The wind sighed softly through the fretted walls, lazy birds chirped in the elms outside, the gurgle of the brook spoke quietly from the spring. And everywhere were those bands of sun and shadow, crossing Karl's shirtless chest, Anna's freckled face, their humble house where soon would be door, window, fireplace, loft and bed. His arms opened and his eyes closed as she pressed against him. Her arms entwined round his sunstriped body, which sprang to life at her touch against his limbs. Mouths joined, they turned in a slow circle, not thinking about what they did, but answering some need to move with each other, against each other, in harmony with each other.
“Oh, Anna, how happy we will be here,” he said at last against her hair.
“Show me where our bed will be,” she said. He led her to a corner where sticks and leaves and grass were its only furnishings.
“Here,” he pointed, envisioning it. “And here I will cut the hole for the fireplace. And here will be the ladder to James' loft. And here I will put a dresser. Would you like a dresser in your kitchen, Anna? I can build it of maple. I have already chosen a good maple tree. And I thought of a chair that rocks. Always I have wanted a chair that rocks. With my adz I can hollow out a smooth seat and make spindles for the back of it of willow whips. What a chair that will be, Anna.”
She could not help smiling at him, with him. She thought she would rather have an iron stove than a rocking chair or dresser put together, but did not say so. His enthusiasm was too fine to dampen.
“When can we start chinking?” Anna asked.
“Soon,” he answered. “First I must bring in the ridgepole from the woods. I have it chosen, too.”
“When will it all be done, Karl? When can we move in?”
“You are anxious, my little one?”
“I am tired of lying to James about all these walks we've been taking lately.”
He hugged her against his chest again, chuckling into her neck, placing his mouth there, tasting salt of her labors, loving it. He dropped his arm to her hips, drew them against his own. Then he placed both hands upon her buttocks and cupped them handily, though there was no need for him to pressure her against her will. Her will was now his own. She had come to love the feel of his body molded against hers, sought it out as eagerly as he did here.
“If my Tonka Squaw keeps it up, she will be lying to her brother again and he will know perfectly well this time that we are not going for a walk in broad daylight with a cabin only half built.”
“Since he will know the truth anyway, perhaps this little Tonka Squaw will just go ahead and tell him the truth, that his big, hot-blooded brother-in-law is off to the cucumber patch again.”
His laughter sailed up over the fretwork walls, and hers along with it.
The raising of the ridgepole was an auspicious occasion, for it was James' first real chance to prove his mettle as a teamster. It was a tricky business, and as Anna watched his eyes darted time and again to the height of the walls. He pulled in huge gulps of breath, then blew them out exaggeratedly, cheeks puffed, raising the hair off his forehead.
The tamarack Karl had chosen was of necessity a stately old giant longer than any used so far. It lay now in wait beside the cabin wall. Four thinner trees were skinned and shone whitely, leaning up against the topmost tier of logs in the sun.
The great chains were attached to the clevises, and James felt his palms sweat. Never in his life had he wanted to please a man more than he wanted to please Karl today. Wiping his forehead, James again raised his eyes to the top of the cabin, wishing suddenly there were another man here to help Karl, so he could be excused. Yet at the same time, the challenge filled the boy with the will to do his best.
James scoured his memory, recalling every lesson Karl had taught him about the importance of soothing the horse with quiet words before and while it was worked. But his voice cracked to a high falsetto when he tried to speak reassuringly to Belle. The horses were accustomed to working closely, side by side, and were uneasy now at this unaccustomed separation as one animal was attached to each end of the long ridgepole. Only rarely were they asked to respond singly to any command, thus Belle unconsciously swerved toward Bill, and James ordered, “Haw! Haw!” But nervousness made his voice too sharp.
From across the way, Karl explained. “Boy, do not forget you are commanding only Belle now, but Bill can hear your orders, too. When you give a command, use her name.”
James swallowed the lump in his throat, going over all the things Karl had taught him—horses have a keen sense of hearing; if you shout at a horse you only shout to relieve yourself; quiet but firm commands are best.
“Keep the reins tight until I give you the nod, then we will start them out together,” Karl
instructed. “Remember, if you let her ease up too much we will lose the ridgepole in a sideslip!”
Unconsciously, Anna balled up her fists, as if the reins were in her hands rather than in her brother's. Her heart beat as quickly as she was sure his did. She spared a glance at Karl. The trust he had in James showed in his casual stance and the relaxed expression upon his face as he turned one last time to reassure the boy.
“How many times have you handled the team, boy?” Karl asked now.
“Lots of times. Every day since I been here.”
“And have they ever let you down?”
“Nossir.”
“And you ever let them down?”
“Nossir.”
“How many are in a team?”
“What?” James's face registered surprise at such a question.
“A team. How many in a team?”
“T . . . two, of course.”
“You handled two overgrown Percherons all this time. Now you have to handle only half as many, right?”
After a hesitation, James replied, “Right,” even though he realized this was part of the problem.
“A man who can skid a ridgepole into place can do anything with his team.” And with these words Karl squared his stance behind Bill.
Never before had Karl used the term “man” in regard to James. Hearing it now, knowing that this truly was a man's job, James tried mightily to reflect the confidence Karl placed in him.
The reins seemed greased. The sweat trickled down the hollow at the back of James' neck while shivers ran up his calves. Belle's haunches looked so massive that no puny hanks of leather could stop that power, should it decide to flesh itself at will. Grasping the reins, James frantically wondered if he could possibly have missed a weak link in the chain somehow when he'd checked it over. Were Belle's tug straps, which bore the vast stress of the load, really thick and unworn? But it was too late to make any further corrections as the chains pulled taut and the slack disappeared with a musical chink.
James looked over at Karl. The big man gave him a great wink. Then came Karl's silent nod, and together the man and boy spoke: “Get up, Belle. Get up, Bill.” There was a first grating denial, then a clunk, as the ridgepole settled on the green skids. The chests of the Percherons strained in their harnesses, and James took his first step, leaning back, as he'd seen Karl do. The squeak of green wood sang through the clearing, then the groan of the skids as they bent beneath their burden.
“Get up, Belle,” James ordered, as Belle felt the stress build upon her chest. The horse's head arose with the effort, and her step became shorter, higher. “Get up, Belle. Attagirl, Belle!” The ridgepole—twenty feet of deadly, crushing weight should it go awry—slid steadily, horizontally, skyward.
The horses moved forward and were cut off from each other's range of vision by the cabin. Then the drivers were cut off likewise. Now they could see only an end of the ridgepole, could only envision the rest of it going up level, moving, nearing its mooring, until, when it seemed the lungs of the horses would implode from their efforts, there came the soft thud, and Karl's voice from the other side of the cabin, “We made it, boy! We made it!”
James forgot himself then, and let out a whoop and a holler and jumped in the air, scaring poor Belle into skittering sideways.
Anna let out the breath she'd been holding and ran forward gleefully, nearly as excited as James by his success. “You did it! You did it!” she sang, enormously pleased by his ever-growing prowess as a teamster.
“I did, didn't I?”
“With a little help from Belle.”
“A little,” James agreed, but then laughed again. “Belle, you big old sweetheart!” James exclaimed, and foolishly kissed the rounded side of Belle's belly.
Just then, Karl came around the corner. “What is this? My brother-in-law kissing my horse!” That brought another round of laughter.
“I did it, Karl,” James said again proudly.
“Ya, you sure did. You could show a thing or two to some Swedes I know about skidding up a ridgepole.” James knew that from Karl there was no higher praise. They both looked up at the pole lying securely in place.
“I was plenty scared though, Karl.”
“Sometimes we must do things, plenty scared or not. To be able to say afterward, 'I was plenty scared' makes a man a bigger man, not a smaller one.”
“I didn't want to tell you how scared I was when I took those reins.”
Karl could not help being amused by such an admission. He smiled and nodded. “And I was plenty scared myself. I always am when a ridgepole goes up. But we did it, eh?”
“We sure did.”
Chapter Thirteen
The raising of the ridgepole was the catalyst in the nurturing relationship between Karl and James. After that day there developed a compatibility between them such as James had never experienced with another man, and unlike Karl had shared with any but his older brothers.
They found they could speak on more equal terms since James had passed muster as a teamster. The ease with which they worked, learned and taught together created an ease of discourse, too. Soon they found themselves talking of more intimate feelings, memories and hopes.
Karl told James countless tales about his life in Sweden, about the family that had been so close and loving, about the desolate loneliness he had experienced during his two years before Anna and James had come here. Karl even confessed openly how wonderful it was not having to sleep alone any more, to eat alone.
Often they spoke of Anna. There was no doubt in James' mind that Karl loved his sister. The knowledge made for a security that had been lacking in James' life. Warm beneath it, he began unfolding into a man.
Slowly, Karl drew him out about the life he and Anna had known before they came here. But there was only so much James would say. There were gaps he left unfilled, as if they were too unpleasant to remember. One of those gaps was their mother. Whenever she was mentioned, he would withdraw behind a barrier as palpable as the walls of the new cabin. Neither would Anna speak much about her mother.
But Karl learned bits here and there that made him certain the two did not want him to know about the woman they called “Barbara.” He did not force the issue, but merely brought the word “Boston” into his conversations with James now and then as encouragement for the boy to tell anything he wanted about their past.
During this time there were countless chores Karl had to teach James or Anna or sometimes both of them. There was the gathering of wax from honeycombs. Wax, it seemed, was as essential as lye. They would save it till autumn in hopes of killing a fat bear to provide them with plenty of tallow to melt with the wax for candles. It was used also in treating the horse harnesses, in preserving various foods and in medicinal concoctions.
Karl taught Anna how to boil the laundry, rub it on the washboard and hang it over the bushes to dry. The laundry was a very difficult chore for Anna. She complained about the lye soap burning her hands until finally Karl examined them more closely and discovered that she had acquired the malaise commonly called “prairie dig,” which most newcomers to the plains states contracted. It was a mystery that had no solution but to wait out the itching and puffiness, which made Anna—and soon James—scratch irritably. Karl told Anna it had nothing to do with lye soap, but with digging in the garden. This did not lift her spirits any. Both laundry and gardening were basically her chores.
Karl sought out help from the Indians and did as Two Horns' wife advised. He made an ointment of lard and laurel, hunting for the lance-shaped evergreen branches, then working the dried leaves into a fine powder to be mixed with lard. Anna put this on at bedtime. So did James. At other times they used a weak wash made of the laurel powder and water.
There seemed to be no end to the things a man must learn about horses. The upkeep of the harnesses alone was demanding. They were carefully kept washed clean of sweat, which rotted the leather almost as fast as the urine fumes if the barn was not kept clean.
Karl had no forge, so Belle and Bill were not shod. Thus it was necessary always to keep their hooves and feet in tip-top condition. Countless ailments could lame a horse whose feet were not kept clean, whose hooves were not kept trim, or who stood in an unkempt stall.
Karl and James were working over the horses' feet in the barn one day. James, as usual, was leaning close to watch every move the big man made as Karl demonstrated the proper way to grasp the horse's cannon and force the knee to bend. He squatted, holding the giant foreleg in his lap, demonstrating the use of the hoof pick to remove soil and pebbles out of the hollow, spongy part of the hoof called the frog.
“I am very pleased with your progress as a farrier,” Karl praised. “You have learned it almost as fast as you have learned to drive the team. If I did not know better, I would say you drove many horses before you came here.”
“Nope, never,” said James. Then, remembering something, he quickly added, “Well, once I did. There was this man in Boston who let me drive his horse and shay just once.”
“And all this time I thought you had never handled a team,” Karl teased.
“Well, it was no team. It was just a single bay. But what a bay! It was one of the most beautiful horses I ever saw, and pulling the fanciest red leather rig in the world. Sometimes, I'd just hang around the livery barn to see if I could catch sight of it. After all that time I got my chance. I never could figure out why Saul let me take her out that day. Up till then he never let me get within a mile of her, even if I offered to lead her to the livery for free. You coulda knocked me over with a toothpick when he ups and says I could take that bay and rig out for a ride.”
Karl continued the lesson and the conversation simultaneously, carefully keeping his questions casual. “You must see that the frog of the hoof is free of dirt or the horse will develop a disease called thrush. So . . . if you knew this man . . . this Saul, why would he not let you take care of his horse before?”
“Well, I didn't really know him, actually. Well, sort of . . . I don't really know. He was a friend of Barbara's and he sort of took to Anna after Barbara died.”