She didn’t realize how long she had worked until Del came up behind her.
“Sythia.” Her sister touched her sleeve. “Lark says stop, you’d better go rest. Lilac has switchel for us, and then she’ll come take your place.”
“All right.” Forsythia straightened, only now noticing her arms were shaking. She relinquished her scythe to Del and followed her sister back toward the house. Already the field showed their progress in the long swaths of grass lying in rows, though much still remained to cut.
“How long will it need to dry?” Joining the group gathered in front of the soddy, Forsythia sank into a chair Lilac had pulled out from the house and accepted a tin cup of switchel. The cool mixture of water from the well, sugar, vinegar, and ginger poured sweet and spicy over her tongue, easing her stomach and cooling her head. “Mmm, good. Thank you.”
“It should dry in two or three days, praying we get no rain.” Lark scanned the fields with a farmer’s eye. “Then we’ll need to stack it to shed rain and save it for the animals this winter. Once we have the barn up, we can store some in there.”
“When do you want to start the barn?” Del picked up Mikael, who was opening his eyes and kicking on the blanket.
“Soon as we get the hay cut. We’ll cut sod near the property line so we can plow the dirt underneath it for planting, then use the cut blocks to build the barn.”
“I can h-help with that too,” Jesse said.
“Indeed you can. Sod houses, sod barns.” Forsythia shook her head. “I never realized the ground could yield so much building material.”
“With how the grass roots hold it together, it’s much like Pharaoh’s mud bricks mixed with straw.” Lark handed her cup back to Lilac and adjusted her hat. “Well, back we go.”
Forsythia took Mikael from Del, and the other four shouldered their scythes and headed back into the field.
“How are you, then, little one?” She bounced the baby in her arms and leaned him back so she could see his face. “You’re getting to be such a big boy, aren’t you?” He was nearly a month old. Mikael blinked at her, then dimpled in a sudden smile. Forsythia smiled back, her heart easing. She pressed a kiss to the baby’s silken cheek, then sat to cuddle him and watch Robbie and Sofie play with their carved animals on the shady blanket. Thank you, Lord, for children. What a comfort from you they are.
Jesse stayed for supper that night, all of them weary but glad at the work accomplished. After supper had revived them some, Forsythia brought out her guitar, and with her sisters on the fiddle and harmonica, music sounded around the campfire not far from the sod walls of their new home.
“Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us.” “How Firm a Foundation.” “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The familiar tunes rose with the lamplight, knitting hearts and voices close once more. They closed with Ma’s favorite, “Abide with Me.”
Jesse said good night and strode back toward town in the summer moonlight. The children settled on pallets, the sisters slid under their covers—two of them with the baby on the rope bed and the other two spreading their bedrolls under the wagon.
Forsythia laid her head on her pillow with a heart lightened by the music, but still feeling the underlying ache. Lord, I hate this silent rift between Adam and me. I don’t know what to do, or what your will is, but please, let us be able to talk soon.
23
So much to do.
Larkspur lay awake long after her sisters and the children slumbered, staring up into the darkness of the wagon bed overhead. Tomorrow they’d continue cutting grass for hay, and then they needed to get started on an addition to the house—all seven of them crammed into the twelve-by-twelve-foot space wouldn’t work much longer. So much for her plans for the barn. Or rather, some type of shelter for the animals. She was beginning to realize they couldn’t manage a full barn yet, not on their own, or even with Jesse’s help. They needed to sell or trade the ox that had belonged to the Durhams so they wouldn’t have to feed it through the winter. Four oxen, one horse, and a milk cow would need a lot of hay.
Her mind jumped to the building situation. To cut the sod and plow the earth beneath, they’d need a breaking plow. She’d heard some of the men on the wagon train discussing their use of the new land. On the prairies, sod buildings were the least expensive way to go. Lark rolled over. She’d head to the store tomorrow, see what the Jorgensens had or could order. The plow might be expensive, but maybe they could trade an ox or two for it. They had more than they needed now.
Then there was the garden. They had to get seeds in the ground before it was too late, or they wouldn’t have any vegetables for winter. First, they needed to spade the plot that had been the garden before. The Skinners had planted a good-sized garden not far from the house last year, at least. The wife had died too early to have planted this year, though, or even prepared the plot.
Stop worrying. Sleep. She squeezed her eyes tight. Lord, I know you’ve gotten us this far. But I feel so responsible. Show us how to get it all done.
The next morning, they all hauled
