An Untamed Heart by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online Page A

out the first row between two other sticks, then hoed a hole, dropped in the potatoes, and mounded the dirt over them. The fragrance of freshly turned soil made her smile. It was one of the smells of spring that always made her rejoice. Whileshe loved all the seasons and the changes therein, burgeoning life in spring was her favorite by far. Especially after the long dark winter.
    “You mark and I’ll plant,” Berta said, so Ingeborg swung the bag over her head to hand to her. They’d learned as youngsters that teamwork made all the work lighter.
    The iron bar rang sometime later, about the same time the sun hit the zenith. Mari had soup heated and bread sliced. She’d only recently started taking over many of the kitchen duties.
    Ingeborg straightened again. While her muscles had recovered from their earlier soreness, now she was starting to ache from spending the morning bent over.

    By the time the sun was starting to ease its way down to the horizon, the garden was planted as much as possible and the tools were stored back in the shed. Two days done, and it usually took at least three. Many hands did indeed make the work light, as Mor so often reminded them.
    Later, at the table, Far nodded when Mari reported they’d finished—ahead of the other families. Hjelmer had run over to each of the onkels’ houses to make sure.
    Mari rattled on. “Tante Berthe said it was all because we have the benefit of the southerly slope. Our garden always warms up faster. I told her we really liked the bread Gunlaug brought over.”
    “Good.” Mor nodded in satisfaction. Even though she would never admit it, Ingeborg knew she liked to win the garden contest too. Would it have been so hard for her to enjoy the game?
    Ingeborg kept her mouth shut. Tante Berthe was a bit of a whiner and often provoked the others with her griping. That made winning all the more sweet. She felt a nudge under the table. Berta felt the same way. This could be worth a giggle or two when they climbed into bed. Since all the children slept upstairs, and the parents down, bedtime was often a chance for merriment. Mor had always lacked in the laughter department. Not like Far, who looked for chances to exercise his big roaring laugh. It was a shame Gilbert took more after their mother. Perhaps if he married Asti, she would make him laugh more.
    After the meal, Ingeborg went back outside to pen the sheep and chickens. She didn’t have to herd the sheep; she just walked ahead and called. They fell into their normal line, making their way into the sheepfold, and she counted as they came. She closed the gate behind them and went to the chickens, most of which were already roosting in the hen house. When she clucked, the others came, fully expecting the handful of grain she threw out. While they located every grain, she found several more eggs and bade them good-night as she shut the door.
    Eggs in her apron, she paused to look to the west to check the sunset. Far always said, “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” Tomorrow would be another fine spring day. And she hoped she would not creak and groan when she woke up. And, she had to get over to Gunlaug’s to tease her about the winning. Gunlaug did not particularly like to be teased. When Ingeborg entered the kitchen, Far looked up from reading the newspaper.
    “If it stays like this, I think we can start moving supplies up to the seter on Monday.”
    “Arne, that is too soon.” Mor hooked the iron frying pan on the wall by the fireplace.
    Ingeborg said nothing, but her heart screamed, It can never be too soon to escape to the seter! She sighed. Leave it to her mor. What if Onkel Jonas would agree that she could go along to Amerika? Would she find freedom there?

5

    The next several days passed slowly with spring housecleaning, along with digging out the barn, the pigpen, and the hen house, where manure and bedding were allowed to build up during the cold of winter to help provide heat for the