Racing Home by Adele Dueck Read Free Book Online Page B

Erik, “while we still have Mr. Johnson’s sod-cutting plough, if we should make a shed.”
    “A shed?” repeated Rolf.
    “Ma wants me to milk the cow,” said Erik. “If we lock her up for the night so the calf can’t drink, Tess might let me milk her in the morning.”
    “Oh.”
    “And we could store things in the shed, too, like chicken feed and tools.”
    “I wanted to start breaking land,” said Rolf, “but I guess it can wait a few days.”
    They marked off the site for the shed that evening and began cutting sods in the morning.
    “We’ll have lots of food,” Elsa told Erik over flatbread and soup at noon. “Today we planted asparagus and rhubarb and potatoes and onions, and even a baby apple tree that Mama brought from Norway.”
    “It’s the middle of July,” her mother said. “That’s late to be planting a garden.”
    “It will rain,” Elsa said confidently, “and everything will grow fast.”
    Erik hoped she was right. It hadn’t rained since the day after he and Rolf left Hanley, and the ground he’d dug was dry and hard.
    “To be sure, we’ll ask God to bless our garden,” Inga said, “He knows we need food for the winter.”
    After supper, Erik saw that his mother wasn’t waiting for the rain, but carrying the dishwater out to sprinkle on the seeds.

    Three evenings later, Erik closed Tess into the new shed. In the house, Inga was heating water.
    “Tomorrow is Sunday,” she said, “and we’re going to church. Tonight we’ll all have baths.”
    “Sunday?” repeated Erik “Church?” Then it hit him. “Baths?” In a one-room house?
    Inga had Erik hang a blanket in the corner by the stove, then pour water into the washtub behind it. Elsa had the first bath. Inga added more hot water to the tub, then disappeared behind the blanket.
    When she came out, she pointed to the dish by the tub. “Don’t forget to use the soap,” she told Erik, “and dry your feet well so you don’t turn the floor to mud.”
    Erik sighed and emptied the kettle into the tub. He added more buffalo chips to the fire, then refilled the kettle to heat water for Rolf.
    The next morning there was no sunshine on the tent when Erik woke. The canvas whipped in the breeze and heavy clouds hung low in the sky. Erik grabbed a pail from the house and went to see if Tess would let him milk her.
    The calf was standing outside the shed, bawling. Erik shoved it out of the way and slipped into the shed.
    In the dim light from the small openings they’d left in the walls, Erik steered the cow into a corner. He slipped the pail beneath her and dropped onto a short-legged stool.
    “That’s a good girl,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “Just give me a bit of milk, and I’ll let you out with your baby.”
    Tess didn’t want to stand still. She flicked her tail and moved her feet restlessly, then walked to the door. There were only a few centimetres of milk in the bottom of Erik’s pail.
    He tethered Tess, then hurried to eat breakfast. A Norwegian travelling pastor was speaking at a school some distance away. Lars was picking them up for the church service and picnic afterwards.
    “Olaf isn’t with you?” Inga asked when the wagon pulled up by the sod house. “I wanted to meet him.”
    “You will,” said Lars. “He rode one of the horses.”
    “Even though he says they’re all too big and slow,” added Aunt Kirsten. “He wants to be a cowboy like some of his friends.”
    “Nonsense,” said Lars. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s young yet.”
    Bumping along in the back of the wagon, Erik wished he was riding a horse, even a slow one.
    Church was held inside the school. Afterwards, despite threatening weather, everyone spread blankets on the grass. Kirsten and Inga unpacked their baskets together. The meats, fresh bread and desserts looked like a feast to Erik.
    His plate was almost empty when a shadow fell across his face. A pair of long legs stood beside him.
    “Olaf,”