RR05 - Tender Mercies by Lauraine Snelling

shoulder as she went for the cookies. “Go on back and talk with him.”
    When Penny returned, Goodie and Mr. Drummond were talking like old friends, and the sewing machine hummed between them. Goodie’s cheeks were pink again, and the sparkle had returned to her eyes.
    Clearly she was in love—with a sewing machine.
    Penny hoped Olaf was making plenty of money at the sack house, for it appeared he was about to purchase some new machinery.
    “Can I bring Olaf back to see this?” Goodie looked from the machine to Penny and back again. “Why I could open me a dressmaking business right down the street from your front door. Blessing needs more businesses, just as you always said. Are you going to sell these in your store?” She looked around the room, every square inch of floor already filled, up the walls and things hanging from the ceiling.
    Penny eyed the hand corn planter hanging from one beam and the carved saddle that rested on a small half barrel attached to the wall. She wished she’d dusted more recently. Ugh, the cobwebs. Some of the things had been there since her first order.
    Penny listened while Mr. Drummond told Goodie about the sewing store opening in Fargo, all the while watching Goodie’s face. Clearly the idea intrigued her.
    Worries raced through Penny’s mind. Was there room for two places to sell sewing materials in Blessing? Dress goods and the attending notions were a good part of her inventory. Penny nibbled on her bottom lip. If Goodie followed her dream, should she stop carrying the calicos and ginghams?
    Or should she put the machines in her store? Where was Hjelmer when she needed him?

Chapter 6
    Freedom smelled like fall.
    Ingeborg kicked into a pile of oak leaves still rich with the oranges and burgundies of newly fallen leaves. She wanted to lie down and roll in them, as she did when she was a child. The oak trees of Norway and the oak trees of Dakota wore the same painted fall dresses and rich perfume. A squirrel scolded her for intruding upon his territory.
    Ingeborg laughed at his antics, then shifted the rifle to her other hand and broke into a trot. The geese would be settling down soon for their evening feed, and she wanted to be there before then. The wheat field south of the Bjorklund land, bordered by the swamp, was a favorite resting place. Any wheat that the thresher missed had sprouted again, thanks to the warm fall rains, and made perfect grazing for the geese.
    She wished she had spent more time practicing with the shotgun so she could have brought it instead. It wasn’t that Haakan really frowned on her using firearms. He just didn’t quite understand why they were so important to her. After all, Baptiste and Thorliff, besides grazing the sheep, managed to supply much of their wild game and fish. Both boys were excellent hunters.
    “So am I,” she proclaimed, and the sound of her voice sent a crow flapping from the tree, his raucous voice announcing her presence. “Uff da,” she muttered low enough for only her own ears. “I know better than that.” Every self-respecting deer in the country will hear that crow and head for cover. Ah well, it is geese I came for, and geese I will get . Ignoring the game trails to the river, she settled herself behind a thicket of Juneberry bushes. There was still enough leaf cover to make a blind for her, and she’d wait until there were plenty of the Canada honkers on the ground. Big as they were, they made for easy hunting.
    The haunting cries came close as a large V settled to graze, the swamp close enough to provide moisture. The heavy beat of their wings, the honking between the birds, and the beauty of their landing made her clutch the gun more tightly. Such magnificent creatures they were, with their gray bodies and black heads and necks. More continued to land, and those on the ground nibbled the tender grass shoots and picked the seeds of any standing grasses and wheat.
    She felt guilty for her presence, wishing she could