The Promise of Dawn by Lauraine Snelling

Author:Lauraine Snelling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;FIC042030;FIC014000
ISBN: 9781441231277
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter

18

Signe was late getting up the morning after Bjorn shot his buck. Rune and Einar had gutted and hung the buck in the barn the day before, and the men and Knute went out as always to cut trees. At the end of the day, they had skinned the carcass and quartered it. It took a good while, and all were late going to bed.

Signe came out of the house with her trade goods, butter and eggs, and watched Knute finish hitching Rosie into the little coalbox cart. He had grown so much in the month since they arrived, in confidence as well as size.

She had pressed the butter into squares and wrapped them separately. Several dozen eggs, nestled into a large tin and padded with towels, would be her trade, hopefully for boots for Knute. Leif could wear Knute’s old ones.

Saying nothing, Einar handed her a list and walked off toward the barn.

“Bjorn,” she said, “take good care of Tante Gerd. You can hear her call, right?”

“The way she shrieks? It’s louder than the doors slamming.”

“I realize you think that, but you should not say it out loud.”

“Sorry, Mor.”

Einar returned with the buck hide rolled tightly under his arm. He stuffed it in the wagon box. “Get a good price for it, you hear?”

“I will try.” It was the most he’d said to her for a while. Signe felt like shaking him. How could he still be cross with her? She had heard about people holding a grudge, but this was going too far. What would he say when she insisted they build stairs up to the attic so she could take a baby up and down after it was born? If only they could have a home of their own. Someday, somehow. Surely they would not all live in this house forever. Not if more children were born to them.

Rune gave her a hand up into the box, and Leif scrambled up beside her. She flipped the reins, and the horse broke into a trot, making the cart bounce in the ruts. In her reticule she carried a drawing of the outline of Knute’s foot. Bjorn’s boots were shabby, but he did not complain they were too small. She also had letters to mail, and perhaps there would be something from home.

She knew her smile had not left since they turned onto the lane. Perhaps Mrs. Benson might invite her to coffee again. She kept the horse to a trot so they would get home sooner.

Leif sat beside her, gripping the seat edge for dear life. “Just think, pretty soon Knute and me will be going to school every day.”

“You will have to read English, you know.”

He stared at her. “But I do not know how to read English.”

“You will learn quickly, I’m sure. You can talk English much better now, and you know the alphabet.”

“Mostly. I hope the teacher speaks Norwegian.” He slumped against the back of the seat. “Does Tante Gerd know how to read and write English?”

“I don’t know.

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