A New Day Rising by Lauraine Snelling Page B

haunting song of geese passing on their way north made him look up. Just to the east, silhouetted against the deep blue of the sky, the flock in V formation seemed to stretch from one horizon to the other. Never had he seen so many waterfowl flying north as he had since he entered the Red River Valley. His fingers itched to take one of the pieces of wood from the rafters and begin looking with his carving knife for the flying goose imprisoned in the wood.

    Ingeborg kissed the baby's soft cheek and laid him gently on the rustling corn-husk mattress. "Sleep well, den lille guten, sleep well." She stood and kneaded the small of her back with her fists. Andrew was getting awfully heavy to carry like that. Most of the time he climbed up in bed by himself, but then usually he didn't fall asleep at the dinner table with his face in his plate. She returned to the work counter and took a damp cloth back to wipe off his face.
    "Uff da," she muttered as she straightened again. "What kind of a mother are you?" She shook her head and stopped at the table to stack the dishes. Knowing the water was cold in the dishpan on the bench outside, she went to bring it in. Haakan was cranking the handle at the well to bring up the full bucket, with Thorliff setting the empty pail on the well's rim.
    The song of the wild geese attracted her attention, too, and she shaded her eyes with her hand to see better. She knew if they'd set down close enough, she could bring home fresh meat for supper. The thought of striding through the woods on a hunt set her heart to thrumming. Even though hunting wasn't considered part of women's work, she had become very good at bringing home game, thus leaving the men free to break the sod. While Roald had tolerated her hunting, Carl had been the one to teach her how to shoot the heavy gun and where to find the game trails. While it didn't take a great hunter to find sufficient game in this region so rich with wild life, Ingeborg knew she was better than the average marksman. Wasting shells had earned her a stern reprimand from Roald, so she took careful aim before shooting.
    Perhaps today was not a good day to hunt. If this man was really going to be here for the summer, she'd best not shock him too soon. It might keep him from staying, she thought. Now if I really want to drive him away, I'll just don my britches, and he'll head back for the north woods fast as his feet can carry him.
    Back in the soddy with her hands in the sudsy water, she allowed her thoughts to turn back to Roald. He would have been more than pleased to have a cousin come and offer to help for the summer. He would try to talk the man into staying, unable to understand why anyone would not want to homestead in Dakota Territory. Of course, if Roald were here, Haakan would never have arrived. Had Roald known of this relative in the new world? Of course, the Bjorklund family tree had so many branches around Nordland, it would take a genius to keep track of them all.
    She finished drying the dishes and put them away. After a glance at Andrew to make sure he slept on, she went outside, grateful for the warm sun that nearly blinded her in its intensity. She raised her face to the heat of it. Why did the sun of spring feel so much more friendly than the sun of winter?

    She brought the last of the kerosene lamps inside to fill and trim the wicks later. The chimneys now gleamed like they hadn't all winter. Polishing them in the sunlight revealed streaks to buff away not visible in winter's dimness.
    On her way back and forth with the small chores, she smiled and waved, letting Thorliff show the guest around the farm and introduce him to the livestock. The sod barn was bursting at the corners with all the animals that now shared its protection and the corrals at either end. Ewes with their lambs-Thorliff had already docked all the tails-and now the grown sheep were due for a shearing. The lamb crop had been good this year, reminding Ingeborg of the time she