himself on the grass.
He looked up at the sky. The same sky he’d seen over Norway, he thought. It was still there over his grandparents.
The world seemed smaller suddenly.
After a while he picked up the scythe. He sharpened the blade again and went back to mowing.
After he cut the last strip of standing grass, he looked at the slough. All that work, and so little hay. They were going to need much more to feed four animals all winter.
The next morning Erik found a dead rabbit in one of the snares. He moved the other two to new spots and set them all again.
“Look what Erik has,” said Elsa when Erik brought the rabbit to the house.
“That will make a good meal,” Inga said. “Thank you, Erik.”
“Where shall I put it?” he asked.
“After you skin and clean it,” his mother said, “hang it in the shade till I’m ready to cook it.”
Erik stared at his mother. He’d hoped she would clean and skin the rabbit.
Elsa grinned and handed Erik a sharp knife. He went outside, crouching down behind the house. He could do this, he told himself. Just like all the other new things he’d done since coming to this empty land. He could do this.
Afterwards, Erik scrubbed his hands in the basin and went to cut more hay. Rolf was off to the east, breaking prairie. He did as much as he could each day, whatever the weather. Erik thought he would plough all day if the oxen could work that long.
A few days later, it was drizzling outside when Erik checked his snares. He brought two rabbits into the house, skinned and cleaned.
“Manga takk,” said his mother. “They’re nice and plump, aren’t they? Please cut them in pieces for me, Erik.”
Cut them up! Cleaning was bad enough, but cutting them was women’s work!
Angrily, Erik knocked a bug off the table, grinding it into the dirt.
“Can’t you do it?” asked Inga, giving him a surprised look.
Elsa touched his arm. “I’ll show you how,” she said. “It’s not hard.”
Erik glared at her, then at his mother, but neither seemed to care. “Thanks, Elsa,” said Inga, turning back to the sock she was darning.
Afterwards, Erik dug a hole in the shed ready for a branch or tree trunk to use for a post. He hoped tying Tess to it would keep her from moving so much when he milked her.
When he came out of the shed, the sun had come out. Rolf stood between the house and the slough looking at the ground.
“We’re going to dig a well,” said Rolf. “Right here.”
“How do we do it?” Erik asked.
“With a pick and a spade. When it gets too deep to throw the dirt out, I’ll put it in a pail and you’ll pull it up with a rope. Then we’ll build walls inside the well to keep it from caving in.”
Erik didn’t know what to say. Digging the garden had been difficult enough.
“Since our slough hasn’t dried up like most of the others,” said Rolf, “I’m hoping there’s underground water here.”
Erik watched Rolf push the spade into the ground.
And thought of the man who dug fifteen wells without getting water.
CHAP TER NINE
Trees
One day in August, Erik took a different route to the river, further north than he’d gone before. Some of the land he crossed was native prairie, but other pieces had been broken and seeded to grain, now turning from green to gold.
Further on, he found himself at the edge of a cliff. Looking down, he saw, not the river, but a small valley with more hills on the other side. Where the hills met, someone had built a corral and a small wooden building.
Erik thought the corral was big enough for forty or fifty animals, but it held only two horses. There were no people in sight.
He cast one longing glance at the horses, then headed south along the top of the cliff. He finally reached the river by the same route he’d gone in the past.
Other times when he’d come to fish, he’d hurried back to work, but today it was too hot to cut hay and Rolf was gone. He was building a granary with Mr. Johnson in return for
He looked up at the sky. The same sky he’d seen over Norway, he thought. It was still there over his grandparents.
The world seemed smaller suddenly.
After a while he picked up the scythe. He sharpened the blade again and went back to mowing.
After he cut the last strip of standing grass, he looked at the slough. All that work, and so little hay. They were going to need much more to feed four animals all winter.
The next morning Erik found a dead rabbit in one of the snares. He moved the other two to new spots and set them all again.
“Look what Erik has,” said Elsa when Erik brought the rabbit to the house.
“That will make a good meal,” Inga said. “Thank you, Erik.”
“Where shall I put it?” he asked.
“After you skin and clean it,” his mother said, “hang it in the shade till I’m ready to cook it.”
Erik stared at his mother. He’d hoped she would clean and skin the rabbit.
Elsa grinned and handed Erik a sharp knife. He went outside, crouching down behind the house. He could do this, he told himself. Just like all the other new things he’d done since coming to this empty land. He could do this.
Afterwards, Erik scrubbed his hands in the basin and went to cut more hay. Rolf was off to the east, breaking prairie. He did as much as he could each day, whatever the weather. Erik thought he would plough all day if the oxen could work that long.
A few days later, it was drizzling outside when Erik checked his snares. He brought two rabbits into the house, skinned and cleaned.
“Manga takk,” said his mother. “They’re nice and plump, aren’t they? Please cut them in pieces for me, Erik.”
Cut them up! Cleaning was bad enough, but cutting them was women’s work!
Angrily, Erik knocked a bug off the table, grinding it into the dirt.
“Can’t you do it?” asked Inga, giving him a surprised look.
Elsa touched his arm. “I’ll show you how,” she said. “It’s not hard.”
Erik glared at her, then at his mother, but neither seemed to care. “Thanks, Elsa,” said Inga, turning back to the sock she was darning.
Afterwards, Erik dug a hole in the shed ready for a branch or tree trunk to use for a post. He hoped tying Tess to it would keep her from moving so much when he milked her.
When he came out of the shed, the sun had come out. Rolf stood between the house and the slough looking at the ground.
“We’re going to dig a well,” said Rolf. “Right here.”
“How do we do it?” Erik asked.
“With a pick and a spade. When it gets too deep to throw the dirt out, I’ll put it in a pail and you’ll pull it up with a rope. Then we’ll build walls inside the well to keep it from caving in.”
Erik didn’t know what to say. Digging the garden had been difficult enough.
“Since our slough hasn’t dried up like most of the others,” said Rolf, “I’m hoping there’s underground water here.”
Erik watched Rolf push the spade into the ground.
And thought of the man who dug fifteen wells without getting water.
CHAP TER NINE
Trees
One day in August, Erik took a different route to the river, further north than he’d gone before. Some of the land he crossed was native prairie, but other pieces had been broken and seeded to grain, now turning from green to gold.
Further on, he found himself at the edge of a cliff. Looking down, he saw, not the river, but a small valley with more hills on the other side. Where the hills met, someone had built a corral and a small wooden building.
Erik thought the corral was big enough for forty or fifty animals, but it held only two horses. There were no people in sight.
He cast one longing glance at the horses, then headed south along the top of the cliff. He finally reached the river by the same route he’d gone in the past.
Other times when he’d come to fish, he’d hurried back to work, but today it was too hot to cut hay and Rolf was gone. He was building a granary with Mr. Johnson in return for
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