Dakota December and Dakota Destiny
Read Dakota December and Dakota Destiny Online
Authors: Lauraine Snelling
Tags: #North Dakota, #Christmas Eve, #Norwegian, #World War I, #Victory Day, #Tuesday, #November 11, #1918, #Soldahl, #North Dakota, #Johanna Carlson, #Caleb Stenesrude, #Private First Class Willard Dunfey, #Pastor Moen, #Mary Moen, #missing in action, #Christian Historical Fiction, #Christian Fiction
Dakota December
and
Dakota Destiny
LAURAINE SNELLING
Published by eChristian, Inc.
Escondido, California
To today’s sons and daughters of the pioneers.
May we always remember those who came before us.
Chapter 1
“T’ain’t a night fit for man nor beast.” Sheriff Caleb Stenesrude peered out the window at a world blinded by swirling snow. Sam, a mottled brown and gray cow dog and faithful follower, whined at his master’s knee. “What’s the matter, old boy, you need to go out?” The dog whined again, his tail brushing the floor in feathery sweeps, then let out a yip as if to agree. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” The sheriff bent his six-foot-plus frame and fondled the dog’s caramel-colored ears. “Well, if you have to go, you have to go. I’ll let you out the back so the wind don’t sweep you right out to nowhere.”
The man whose friends called him Caleb, and everyone else called Sheriff, padded in his carpet slippers through the pantry to the back entry. Once he had been referred to as a tree walking, and even in slippers the description seemed apt. When he cracked open the door, the wind tried to tear it from his hands, “You hurry now, you hear?” He anchored the inside door with one hand and shoved the isinglass-covered screen open just far enough for the dog to scoot out.
“Some way to spend Christmas Eve,” he muttered, closing the door. He thought about all the preparations that had gone into the Christmas pageant at the church tonight, all the gifts gathered under the tree, the costumes made and the music practiced. He shook his head. Here he was, all alone, as usual.
Some nights he had fights to break up at the saloon or someone in his jail needed tending. He’d let old Max out this morning since he’d sobered up again. Dag had given the old sot his job back at the blacksmith’s and the room that went along with it. Good thing. If they’d found Max sleeping in his usual corner north of the saloon, he’d been dead by morning from this cold.
Caleb ran a hand through dark hair now sprinkled here and there with threads of silver. That and a face carved deeply by sun and sorrow made him look older than his thirty-five years. He scrubbed a leathery hand across his square jaw. He guessed he’d hit the sack, soon’s that mutt got done with his business.
The wind changed from a whine to a howl, seeking entry and protesting the barriers. The man shivered in spite of his long Johns and heavy shirt and pants. He never had liked blizzard weather. Too many living things died.
He cracked open the door again and whistled but the wind blew the sound back down his throat. “Sam, where are you?” He heard a yip and shut the door in disgust. “Can’t ya remember which door you went out?” Crossing the room, he could feel the temperature rise the closer he got to the great iron cookstove. He looked longingly at the pot of coffee simmering on the back. Should be strong enough to melt lead by now.
The dog barked again, louder this time. “Hold your horses. You’re the one who changed doors.” A series of barks pleaded with him to hurry.
Caleb jerked open the door. “Well, get your worthless hide in here.” Sam backed off, barking all the while. “This ain’t no time for games, git in here.” The dog darted off the porch, lost immediately in the swirling blackness. But when Caleb started to close the door, Sam bounded back, his bark demanding now.
“All right, I’m coming.” Caleb pushed the door shut but he couldn’t silence the wails of the banshee-like wind. He stepped out of his slippers and into his boots, hooking his wool jacket off the coat rack in the same instant. He’d learned years earlier that when Sam insisted on his master following, he always had a reason and a good one at that.
Pulling his hat down tight on his head and wrapping a long woolen scarf around his face, Caleb stepped out into the swirling world. Sam hugged his master’s knee, and then moved a little bit forward, leading the way.
They slogged through a hip-deep drift and finally bumped into the fence. Caleb looked back over his shoulder. He could barely see the light from his window. A shape loomed before him.
“Well, I’ll be.”
Sam yipped and pushed forward. A horse waited patiently, head down, nose almost buried in the snow.
“Help.” A weak voice moaned from the horse’s back.
Caleb climbed over the gate and reached up in time to catch the woman as she fell. To his astonishment, a small child, hanging on for dear life, fell with her.
“That wind’d do anyone in. Let’s get you inside. Can you walk a’tall?”
The woman sagged against him. “Please, take care of my boy.”
“Now don’t you go frettin’, ma’am. I ain’t one to leave nobody out in a storm like this, let alone a child.” As he talked gently into her ear, he scooped the child under one arm, like he was carrying a sack of wheat, and wrapped the other arm around the woman’s waist, half carrying her too. “You stay there, horse, I’ll be back.”
If he could have figured a way, Caleb would have thrown them both over his shoulders. That would have been much easier as he fought his way through the snowdrifts back toward the light he could barely see. What a night for travelers to be out. Under his breath he thanked the good Lord for bringing them this far and for a dog with a nose and ears to beat all. This wasn’t the first time Sam had dragged an injured critter home for tending.
Even the ox-like sheriff was out of breath by the time they all sagged against his front door. While the woman whimpered once in a while, he wasn’t sure she even knew she was off the horse.
Afraid to let go of her in case she fell, he finally asked, “Ma’am, can you reach out there and open the door ‘fore we all freeze to death?” He tightened his grip on the boy. While he could feel the lad breathing, the poor mite hadn’t yet spoken a word.
When Caleb tried ushering the woman in ahead of him, she stumbled and nearly fell. She groaned as her cloak billowed out around her.
Caleb clamped his arm around her again and half-carried her across the room to the rocking chair in front of the cast-iron stove. While she slumped into the chair, he sat the boy down on the rug. Sam licked the child’s face and, tail wagging, looked up at Caleb as if asking what to do next.
Caleb knelt in front of the rocker. The woman hadn’t even started to untie her cloak. “Please, ma’am, make yourself to home. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee and . . .”
At that moment, the woman bit off another moan and slumped forward, hands clasped around her knees. She rocked in place.
“Are you hurt? Do we need a doctor? I—I’m the sheriff here and I learned some about doctoring and that’ll just have to do us since we can’t go for the real thing in this blizzard.” He caught himself. Blathering like an idiot he was.
He sat back on his haunches and stared at the rocking form in front of him. She looked mighty large for such a small woman.
Caleb Stenesrude, you idjit, she’s breedin’, that’s what.
He swallowed—hard. “You—you ain’t havin’ the baby right—right here and now?” He shook his head again. “You ain’t—” His voice squeaked. “Not really.”
Her soft moan that rose on the end answered him.
“Oh, my. My, oh, my.” Caleb rose to his feet, looked at the woman, then looked to the door and back again. The wind took that moment to try to blow the house down. No, he wouldn’t be going for the doctor.
“How soon, ma’am, how soon?” His insistent voice seemed to penetrate her stupor.
“S—some time yet. Please—my horse. Can’t let it die.” He had to lean forward to hear her. The child stirred behind him. Jumpin’ Josephine, he about forgot the boy.
Sam darted toward the door and yipped. He returned and looked up at his master.
“I know, we have to get that horse under cover before the drift covers the poor critter.” He pulled on his ear, hoping the action would provide inspiration. Sam yipped again, as if congratulating the boss on understanding dog talk. He headed for the door and looked over his shoulder. “In a minute, in a minute.” Sam sat, momentarily appeased.
Caleb looked down at the boy huddled by the stove. Eyes the color of a summer prairie sky looked up at him, then fear passed through like clouds over the sun. The child’s chin quivered and a lone tear slipped down a ruddy cheek.
Caleb felt the stab of the boy’s misery clear to his rawhide-calloused sheriff’s heart. He knelt next to the child and with slow gentle hands began to unwrap the boy’s tattered red muffler.
“Now, then, let’s get you undressed so the heat of that stove can begin to warm you up.” He used the same tone of voice to calm a fractious horse or a bawling calf. It worked on all living things and even some that weren’t.
The woman arched in the chair above him, her fingers digging into the rocker arms.
Caleb shot her a glance full of compassion, but at her head shake, he turned back to the boy. “Good, there, son, don’t you worry none, your ma is going to be just fine.” But when Caleb reached out to check if the flush on the boy’s cheeks was from the storm or a fever, the child flinched away.
Someone’s been beating the poor little tyke.
The thought made Caleb move even more slowly and carefully. Right away he wished he could meet the low-down rat. Give him a taste or two of his own medicine.
One look at the woman, who was keeping all her misery inside so as not to upset the boy, made him willing to stake his life on the knowledge that it wasn’t her. Where was the father? And what were these two doing out on a night like tonight?
“Okay, son, you just keep your things on until I come back from caring for your horse. Do you think you can watch over your ma for those few minutes I’ll be gone?” By this time Caleb was beginning to wonder if maybe the boy couldn’t hear. Perhaps he was deaf and dumb?
That idea was dashed immediately when the boy slowly nodded, his gaze darting between the woman in the chair and the man in front of him. The eyes looked like they’d seen far too much misery for one so young.
Caleb smiled his most comforting smile and slowly rose to his feet. “Now, you’re not to worry, I’ll be right back.” His promise brought a ghost of a smile to the woman’s face but it died under the onslaught of another birthing pang.
Caleb called for Sam and only took time to get his jacket securely buttoned and hat tied down before he and the dog were out the front door. “I’m counting on you, Sam. You gotta get us back into that house.” Sam whined and darted out to where the horse still stood as if frozen.
As the drifted snow had erased all chances of opening the gate, Caleb took the reins and slogged his way around the east side of the house, keeping one hand on the fence when he could locate it. At his side, Sam pushed him back toward the house when the man started to veer too far away.
“I ain’t never knowed a northerner bad as this one,” Caleb muttered into his muffler. The wind tore the sound away and sent the words to the four corners of the earth almost before the dog could hear them.
Sam yipped and stopped. Caleb brushed the building snow off the brim of his hat and peered through the driving ice pellets. “Good dog.” He’d have gone right by the barn, if it weren’t for Sam. No wonder people lost their way from the house to the barn in blizzards like this. He leaned his shoulder into the door, rocking it to break loose the ice and snow. When the door finally gave a screech that signaled it was back on its track, he nearly fell into the dark cavern.
The cow lowed from her stall and his horse stamped and nickered a welcome. The sound and fury were muted here in the snug barn where peace reigned supreme.
God knew more than many folks thought when He chose a stable as the birthing place for His Son,
Caleb thought, leading the weary horse into the spare stall and stripping off the harness. This poor woman, whoever she was, didn’t even have a saddle. Wonder where she left the wagon? He brushed the snow off the poor beast and felt its ribs in the process. Shaking his head, he dug an old blanket out of the stack of feed sacks and threw it over the horse’s back. He poured a scoopful of oats in the feed box, tossed in a forkful of hay, and snagged the water bucket out of his riding horse’s manger.
“He needs it worse ‘n you,” he said, giving the rangy gray gelding an extra stroke and a slap on the rump.
Knowing he’d rather stay in the peaceful barn than face the ordeal ahead in the house, nevertheless, when all was done to his satisfaction, he pulled the door closed against the still howling wind. He grabbed the rope he had strung from the barn to the house for instances such as this and pulled the muffler up clear to his eyes. A drift had even buried one of the posts that held the rope up. Sam stayed right beside him through the accidental detour and got his master back on track.
After what seemed like hours of fighting the elements, Caleb stopped on the porch and filled his arms with wood for the fire. Good thing he’d spent a few days splitting and stacking firewood. Thank the good Lord for His blessings of a warm house, snug barn, and food to last out the blizzard. Not much chance anyone would be calling for the sheriff tonight. He had enough problems in front of him. “Lord above, give us a special helping of Your Grace this night as I help this poor woman bring her baby into the world.” He paused long enough to brush some of the snow off and let himself into the kitchen.
Sam shook all over and trotted over to the stove where the boy still sat huddled in his coal. The dog nosed the child’s face as if making sure he was all right, then curled up right next to him.
Caleb dumped the wood in the woodbox and turned to study the woman. She lay back in the chair, eyes closed. Her lashes seemed to him like dark feathers on skin so clear the blue veins under her eyes were unnaturally pronounced. He didn’t want to think about it but the blueness could be traced to another source. Another spasm caused her to bite her lower lip and dig her fingers into the chair arms. When it passed, she looked up at him. She tried to smile but the effort proved too much and her eyelids drifted closed.
Caleb shifted his attention to the boy. He lay sound asleep, his head now pillowed on Sam. The dog wagged the tip of his tail, careful not to disturb his precious charge.
“Good dog.” The big man removed his coat and hat, hung them on the rack by the door, and pulled off his boots at the jack. Even without the storm, this promised to be a long night.
Since there was no heat in the bedroom, Caleb made a pallet out of quilts and lay it by the stove. He put a pot of extra water on to boil, knowing there was plenty of hot water in the reservoir too. Tenaciously, he kept his mind on each task. He didn’t want his thoughts to race ahead to the birth itself and throw him into sheer panic. No different than with a cow, he reminded himself. Nature knew what to do about birthing whether people did or not. His hands shook when he tore an old sheet into wide strips, and then proceeded to fashion a baby blanket and diaper-sized squares from the remnants.