Fields of Grace (21 page)

It had pained her to see the well-built trunk turned into scrap lumber, but what other choice did they have? There was no Mennonite furniture maker’s shop nearby where they could purchase a table and chairs. They ate all of their meals outside unless it rained, which she had discovered was a rare occurrence. The sod house’s close walls left little room for moving around. When winter came, they would be cooped up all the time. While the weather permitted, she intended to be outside as much as possible.

Just as she finished setting the table, she spotted Eli and the boys coming from the field. Eli and Joseph walked side by side with Eli’s arm hooked around Joseph’s neck. Although she couldn’t hear him, she knew Joseph was jabbering. She shook her head, smiling indulgently. That boy talked to Eli more than he had ever talked to anyone. Eli’s praise had released a confident side of Joseph that was beautiful to see.

Then she noticed Henrik trailing behind the pair, his head down and feet scuffing through the dirt. Her heart sank.

She must do something to bring joy to Henrik. Lifting her hand, she waved for them to hurry. “I have made
Perieschkje
! And the wash bowl is ready. Wash and eat!”

The three made good use of the wash bowl and towel; then they sat around the table and folded their hands while Eli gave the blessing. Lillian served the pastries, watching for their reaction to the unusual contents.

Joseph’s eyebrows rose as he chewed rapidly. “Mmm, Ma. These are good. Different.”

Henrik examined his pastry, tipping it one way and then the other. “What did you put in there?”

Lillian laughed softly. “Whatever I could find.” She shared the contents of the filling, smiling when Henrik took another big bite.

Across the table, Eli shook his head. “Lillian, you are an amazing woman. You take what meager things we have and make something good.”

His praise warmed her. She ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks. “I am not the only one who makes good of whatever is available.” She patted the stool.

“
Ach
, we could not eat the trunks.” Eli reached for another pastry. “But when I go to town, I will visit a mill and bring back some lumber. The animals, they will need a shelter. And this winter, when we are unable to be outside working, I want to use the tools I brought and make some furnishings for the house I will build after harvesting our wheat.”

Henrik shot Eli an interested look. “You are going to town?”

“Of course. How else will I get a plow? I had to leave mine in Gnadenfeld—it would not fit in the trunk.” His chuckle didn’t hide the remorse in his voice over leaving his prized possession behind.

Henrik rested his elbows on either side of his plate. “Which town?”

Eli shrugged with one shoulder. “I think McPherson Town. It is not any farther than Newton, but according to
Herr
Wiens, it is a good-sized community. And I will not need to ford any streams to get there. That will make for easier travel for the oxen.”

“Will we all go?”

Lillian hadn’t seen Henrik show such eagerness in weeks. Would Eli agree to take Henrik along?

Eli twisted his lips into a grimace and shook his head. “I am sorry, Henrik, but no. For two reasons.” Eli held up one finger. “I need the wagon bed to carry back a load of lumber. It will take much lumber to build a shelter for the animals. There will not be room in the bed for people, too, what with the lumber and the plow.” He flicked another finger upward. “And all of us gone means no work gets done. It will be an all-day excursion, and there is too much to do here for us all to take a day from working.”

Henrik pushed his plate aside.

Eli put his hand on Henrik’s shoulder. “We will all go one time before the snow flies. When we buy supplies for the winter months. Does that sound fine?” He waited, but Henrik didn’t answer.

Finally, Eli sighed and dropped his hand. He looked at Lillian. “
Nä-jo
, Lillian, that was a very good meal. Will you go to the creek now for water to wash the dishes?”

Lillian sent him a puzzled look. “Do I not always go to the creek for my dish water?”

Eli lifted his chin in a nod. “
Jo
, I suppose you do. You best hurry, then. Because”—he stood, his gaze flitting briefly to Joseph—“I am going to jump in the water and muddy it up.”

Joseph sat straight up, dropping the last bit of his pastry. “Swimming,
Onkel
Eli?”

Eli tweaked Joseph’s ear. “Swimming, for sure, after a long, hot day like this one.” He quirked one brow. “But you would not have any interest in swimming, am I right?”

Joseph nearly sent his stool flying, he jumped up so fast. “I do! I like to swim!” He turned to Henrik. “You are coming, too, Henrik?”

But Henrik rose slowly, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “
Nä
. You go ahead. I am going to light a lantern and read instead.”

Lillian waited for Eli to encourage Henrik, but he threw his arm around Joseph’s shoulders and the pair headed for the creek without a backward glance. Lillian watched them go, nibbling her lower lip. If Eli stopped trying to reach Henrik, all would be lost. Despite Henrik’s lack of response to overtures, she must encourage Eli not to give up on her son.

Henrik moved toward the sod house, his hands in his pockets and his head slung low. If Eli wouldn’t encourage Henrik, she would. Calling his name, she hurried after him. He stopped but kept his face angled away from her.

Lillian tangled her hands in her apron. “You have worked hard this week. Why not swim, Henrik? Spend some time with Joseph and . . . and your stepfather.” She held her breath as she uttered the title. Somehow Henrik must begin to accept Eli’s position in his life.

Henrik spun around. The fury in his face sent Lillian stumbling backward a step. He withdrew his clenched fists from his pockets and stood, bristling. Tension fairly crackled between them, and Lillian felt as though her booming heart might explode. She had never feared her son, but in those tense, anger-filled moments, she wondered if he might actually strike her.

Finally Henrik drew in a deep breath and relaxed his fists. His firmly clamped jaw released, and he lowered his head, shaking it slightly as if arguing silently with himself. Then he met her gaze. The anger she’d witnessed had dimmed to a mere spark in his dark eyes.

“Unlike Joseph, I still remember my father. I have no desire to replace him.” His low, even tone sent a chill through her frame. “But I wonder, Ma, if you already have.”

Lillian opened her mouth to protest, but Henrik strode around the sod house. She didn’t follow. Because she realized she had no words of defense to offer.

19

E
li crested the gentle ridge that led to their land claim. It took much self-control not to smack the reins down on the backs of the horses and urge them to race the remaining few miles. Wouldn’t his family be surprised to see horses pulling the wagon? When he had left early that morning, one pair of their faithful oxen stood within the wagon’s yoke, but a good trade with a farmer in McPherson resulted in acquiring two wagon-broke bays. They were not young horses, but they had many good working years left.

Eli admired the horses’ gleaming hides, both the color of stained mahogany. The female bore a white stripe down the center of her nose that matched the stocking on her right foreleg, but the male was solid reddish brown. A more handsome pair of animals Eli had rarely seen, and now they were his. But he hadn’t asked the man for the horses’ names. He would allow Joseph the pleasure of naming the pair.

He chuckled, thinking of how Joseph had named their chickens. The silly clucks even came when he called. The boy had a way with animals, for sure. Maybe he would be a rancher when he grew up, or a farrier. Both would take skill with animals. Joseph was still young, but not too young to be thinking of the future. He would have a talk with the boy soon.

As he guided the horses off the rough road and onto the untamed prairie, the wagon jolted sideways. The bed’s contents clunked as they shifted. “Who-o-oa,” Eli soothed, giving the reins a gentle tug to slow the great beasts. “It would not be wise to bounce out any of that cut lumber or my new plow.” Nor did he want to lose the surprise he’d secured for Henrik.

The thought of Henrik didn’t bring a fond chuckle. Instead, Eli’s stomach clenched with dread. It seemed no matter what he did, Henrik disapproved. He glanced into the wagon bed at the burlap-wrapped package tucked behind the seat. Surely that gift would please the boy.

His thoughts skipped to tomorrow—Henrik’s eighteenth birthday. In Gnadenfeld, his family would have hosted a celebration and invited their neighbors to wish Henrik well in adulthood. Food would have been abundant, with fellowship that lasted well past bedtime.

Here they had no neighbors to invite. It would only be Lillian, Joseph, and he wishing Henrik well. Eli knew it would be very little compared to what he would have received in their Mennonite village, but perhaps the small taste of Gnadenfeld rolling around in that burlap bag would diminish the sting of disappointment.

Eli looked ahead at the cleared patch of ground waiting the plow. So dark and rich-looking, that Kansas soil. Surrounded by thick prairie grass, it offered the illusion of a large package wrapped in brown paper. The image seemed appropriate, because Eli viewed the land and the opportunities it afforded as a gift.

His chest swelling with gratitude, he offered a familiar prayer: “
Dank Jie
,
dia Gott
, for this land. May its bounty bring You glory.” Tomorrow was Sunday—a day of worship, rest, and celebrating Henrik’s birthday—and then on Monday he would put his new steel plow and the remaining pair of oxen to work turning the ground.

The wagon rattled around the cleared field, and Eli spotted Joseph and Henrik walking toward the sod houses from the creek. Homemade fishing poles bounced on Joseph’s shoulder, and Henrik held a string of fish. Eli licked his lips in anticipation of that fish dipped in cornmeal and fried to a crisp. Even poor man’s fare appealed to him when it served as batter for fresh fish from the creek on their property.

He knew the moment the boys spotted him, because Henrik came to a halt and Joseph threw his hand in the air in an excited wave. Then the younger boy dashed to the sod house and disappeared inside. When he emerged he was empty-handed, and Lillian followed, wiping her hands on the apron she always wore over her dress. Her smile was evident even from this distance.

Eli’s heart turned over at the sight of his family awaiting his return. Had he ever felt as needed, as happy, as fulfilled as in those moments? His hands curled around the reins as the urge to hurry the horses once more attacked. But he held the team to a slow, steady
clop-clop
until he reached the sod houses. The moment he drew the team to a stop, Joseph rushed to stroke the nose of the big male. The horse nickered softly and nudged Joseph’s shoulder. Eli, watching, smiled. Yes, the boy had a way with animals.

“
Onkel
Eli, where did you get horses? Where are Buff and Brody?” Although excitement underscored the tone, Joseph kept his voice low so as not to startle the horses.

With a chuckle, Eli leapt over the side. He grinned in Lillian’s direction before turning to Joseph. “I made a trade—two oxen for two horses. A good trade, I think. Are they not a fine pair?”

“A very fine pair!” Joseph peeked over his shoulder. “Look at them, Ma. Are they not pretty?” Before Lillian could answer, the boy dashed around the wagon to peer into the back. His eyes grew huge. “Look at all the wood!” Turning, he gestured Henrik forward. “Look, Henrik! There is enough wood to build two barns, I think!”

Henrik peeked over the wagon’s side. His lips pulled into a lopsided sneer. “You are
domm
, Joseph.”

“I am not dumb!”

“Boys . . .” Lillian voiced a soft reprimand.

Eli sauntered over and ruffled Joseph’s hair, diffusing the situation. “This wood will not be enough for a big barn, but it will provide a shelter for the horses and oxen. A small shelter will have to do until we harvest our wheat. Then, with that money, we can build a bigger barn.”

“And a house?” Joseph asked.

“And a house,” Eli agreed.

Joseph ran his hand down the shiny blade of the plow. “You bought wood and a plow . . . What else?”

Eli lifted a bushel basket from the back of the wagon and held it toward Lillian. She skipped forward and tugged aside the burlap covering. She clapped her hands together in obvious delight. “Cabbage! Oh, Eli, I can make sauerkraut!”

“
Jo
, we must have kraut for the winter.” Eli set down the basket and dug beneath the leafy balls. “I bought a dozen heads, and the man gave me”—he lifted out four sweet potatoes, two in each hand—“a little something extra.”

“What a treat!” She took the potatoes and showed them to Henrik. “We will have something special for your birthday supper tomorrow, Henrik!”

Still beside the wagon, Joseph reached for the remaining burlap bag. “And what is this?”

Eli snatched up the bag before Joseph could touch it. “That is a surprise, boy.”

Joseph’s dark eyes lit with excitement. “A surprise? For me?”