Racing Home by Adele Dueck Read Free Book Online Page A

jumped to his feet and grabbed the spade. As he dug, he occasionally glanced at the grazing oxen, wishing he was strong enough to hold the plough in the ground.
    The soil was hard and dry, the digging difficult. After a while, Erik set the spade aside and walked east. As he walked he was aware of rises and falls, but after the mountains of Norway he couldn’t call it anything but flat. No matter which way he looked, everything was the same.
    How easy it would be to get lost.
    Lost.
    Heart thumping, Erik swung around.
    There it was, in the distance, the sod house, small, brown, hugging the ground.
    After that Erik looked back often.
    He saw survey stakes in the corners of their quarter and caught a glimpse of a building further east. In a hollow he found an almost dry slough, thick with grass. Bushes grew along one side, some of them taller than Erik. As he approached, birds flew out, clutching berries in their beaks. Erik ate some of the purple berries, finding them juicy and sweet.
    In the distance he could see a wolf walking across the prairie. No, not a wolf. It was too small. A dog, maybe.
    Erik set off after it. The animal turned away, breaking into a run. Not a dog.
    Hungry, Erik headed back to the sod house. He checked that the chickens were still alive, then heated a tin of beans. After eating, he used the pickaxe to break up the hard sod of the garden, but looked around often in case the wolf-dog returned.
    By the fourth day, Erik knew their quarter section almost as well as he knew his grandfather’s farm in Norway. He spent the morning digging in the garden, then loaded one of the water barrels onto the wagon.
    The oxen stood quietly while he fumbled with the yoke.
    “You’re not horses,” said Erik, patting Black’s neck, “but for oxen you’re not bad.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Reunited
    When Erik returned to the sod house with the barrel of spring water, the door stood open. He jumped down from the wagon just as his mother stepped outside. She caught him in a hug.
    “Ma!” exclaimed Erik “You’re here!”
    “We arrived about an hour ago,” she said. “Rolf just left to return the horses and wagon to Lars. How are you? Rolf tells me you’ve been working hard.”
    “There’s much to do,” Erik said uncomfortably. “How – how do you like the house?”
    “I was glad to get out of the wind.”
    “We filled all the cracks so the wind couldn’t get inside,” Erik said quickly, noticing she hadn’t said she liked the house. And how could she? It was made of dirt.
    He dipped most of the water from the barrel on the wagon to the barrel by the door, then carried the last pail inside. An embroidered cloth covered the wooden table and there were shelves against one wall. Elsa was arranging wildflowers in a cup.
    “Did you see my hen?” she asked eagerly.
    “The chickens are all over,” he said. “I see them every day.”
    “Not those chickens!” Elsa ran to the door. “Come, little hen,” she cooed. “Come here.”
    A chicken pecking the ground near the tent ran toward Elsa, who dropped a few kernels of corn on the ground.
    “She knows me.”
    “She knows the corn,” said Erik. “Did you get this hen to replace the one that died in Hanley?”
    “She didn’t die,” Elsa said indignantly. She knelt down and smoothed the glossy brown feathers. “She was sick, but I made her better.”
    Erik went to move the wagon, leaving Elsa trying to making friends with one of the other hens.
    His mother watched as he tethered the oxen. “I need you to start milking the cow again.”
    Erik stared at her. Though he’d milked Tess when they first bought her, she hadn’t been milked since they’d left Minnesota.
    “The calf drinks all the milk. Tess won’t let me milk her.”
    “Then you’ll have to separate them, won’t you?”
    It sounded so easy. And it might be if they had a barn or corral.
    Erik met Rolf when he walked into the yard after returning the horses.
    “I was wondering,” said