Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter (6 page)

“
Uff da
,” Carl muttered. “This is why I don’t have a wife.”

Rurik roared with laughter and noticed that the petite Corabeth seemed to shrink away. She reminded him a bit of Svea in her size and demeanor. He flashed her a smile, but the young woman seemed only more intimidated.

“Well, you gentlemen will have to excuse us. We’ve got a few more stops to make,” Granny announced and turned for the door. “Now, Carl, you be sure to come for supper and bring Rurik.”

“Thank you,” Carl replied, nodding. “We’ll be there at five thirty.”

Granny nodded. “Good. Now come along, Corabeth.”

The young woman did as her grandmother bid, with nary a glance back.

Merrill looked about her and found herself wishing she could be everywhere at once. The horses knew their jobs and handled just as well for her brothers, but Merrill couldn’t help but feel rather possessive. She had helped train all of the large Belgians and knew their quirks and their strengths. Even so, there were eight horses working today—four teams of two, and she couldn’t manage them all.

The dun-colored Belgians seemed anxious to be about their business. Standing beside them on the ice, Merrill tightened her grip on the harness and whispered comfort to the nearest gelding. “You’ll be working soon enough, Paul. You stand fast and stop being such a bad example for Peter.”

Peter and Paul were fairly new at working with each other, but Merrill found them to be a good match. Even so, they were young and still learning.

“The ice is nine inches,” Merrill’s father called, having drilled down into the frozen lake only a few minutes earlier. Nine inches was deep enough. Merrill also knew he preferred an even ten inches, but he’d settle for nine just to get an early start on the ice harvesting. People in the South wanted
ice for their drinks and refrigeration, and who could deny them? The pay was good and the commodity rare—at least farther south. Merrill couldn’t help but smile as she looked around the frozen lake and snow-covered landscape. Ice was plentiful here.

With her father’s authorization to go ahead, Merrill and her brothers began scoring the ice. The work was tedious, but Merrill couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of fear each time she walked the Belgians farther onto the ice. The horses weighed thousands of pounds, and while the ice was thick enough to sustain them, she couldn’t help worrying about coming across an unexpected weak patch. She’d seen a horse break through the water once. Merrill shuddered at the memory and quickly turned her attention back to Peter and Paul. “We’ll not be having any of those accidents today,” she assured them, praying that it would be so.

“You talking to the horses again?” Flynn asked as he led one of the other teams to their place.

“Sometimes I prefer talking to them,” Merrill replied. “They don’t talk back or ask silly questions.”

Flynn laughed and kept moving. “Just making sure you haven’t lost your wits, sister dear.”

Merrill shook her head. Since she was the only young woman in a houseful of men, Merrill often wondered that she had any sense left at all. Peter gave a soft snort and Merrill couldn’t help but smile. “You know us all too well, don’t you, boy?”

“The cold can get to you before you know it,” Leo Krause told Rurik. They stood in the yard near the Krause barn. “We’re always glad for the extra help, but you should be aware of the risks.” He handed Rurik a pair of thick woolen mittens. “These will keep your hands warmer than gloves. The air gets trapped inside and adds extra heat.” He then handed over a pair of leather mittens. “And these you wear over those, and it will give you better grip.”

“My uncle advised me of the dangers,” Rurik said, pulling on both pairs of mittens. “However, I’ve not done much of this kind of work. We harvested ice only a couple of times when I was a boy. After that my father was only too glad to buy his ice from someone else.”

Leo nodded. “Well, as eldest in this family, I’ve helped harvest ice nearly all of my thirty years. Sometimes I think I was born on the ice. Unfortunately, with machinery and other means of making ice, I think our harvesting days are numbered. Every year the orders are fewer.”

Rurik wasn’t sure what to say. Losing one’s livelihood was a fearful thing. “Do you do other work besides the ice harvest?”

“Oh sure. We use the horses to help with logging and freighting. We definitely keep busy. It’s a good business. What of your family?”

“All farmers, except me. I never found my interests in the soil.”

“So you make furniture like Carl.”

“Ja, that’s what I’m good for.” Rurik held up his hands. “And hopefully for ice harvesting, too.”

“Let’s get to it, then. We’ll try to break you in slow—have
you drive the ice back and forth from the lake to the icehouse. I’ll show you where that is before we head down. I’m sure the others are wondering where I am.” Leo led the way to the wagon where a pair of sorrel draft horses, already harnessed, stamped and snorted in the cold.

They made a brief stop by the icehouse, where Leo explained what Rurik’s job would be. “The men stationed here will handle the unloading.” Leo waved one of the men over. “This is Basil Adlum. Basil, this is Carl Jorgenson’s nephew, Rurik Jorgenson.”

“Good to meet you. Your uncle is a good man. We play checkers most every Sunday afternoon.”

Rurik smiled. “I imagine he’s hard to beat—at least speaking from my own experience.” Basil seemed close to Carl’s age, but much stronger and healthier.

Leo pointed to the other men. “Basil and his sons will handle this end of the process.”

“We’ve been doing this since we were children,” Basil offered. “Hard work, but it goes much easier when you work together.”

“They’ve brought a couple of Belgians, and they’ll take turns running the lift. They’ll hook the horse up here,” Leo said, pointing to a series of harnesses and ropes. “As you see, it’s attached to the ice lift. When they pull the horse forward, the ice will be raised to that door up top.” Rurik noted the door as Leo continued. “Then other men will take the ice and position it in the icehouse and pack sawdust to insulate. The train will arrive the first of the week and take all we can load. You’re welcome to come back and help with that.”

“I’ll see if Uncle Carl can spare me.”

Leo nodded. “You can see that the lift is slanted just a bit. The men will waste no time sliding the ice off, and the man handling the horse down below will back the animal up and the lift will lower to receive another block of ice. It goes very quickly with a well-trained team.”

“And we’re the best,” Basil offered with a smile.

“Indeed they are. We help each other with ice harvest around here,” Leo explained. “Come on. We’d best get down to the lake. We’re losing the day. Basil, we’ll have that first load up to you soon.”

Rurik enjoyed the ride out to the lake. The countryside was frosted in snow and ice, but the brilliant morning sun made the ground and trees glitter like diamonds. There was a sense of exhilaration in the air as they made their way to join the others.

There were several people already hard at work scoring the ice. The horse teams out on the lake plodded along, pulling runners that sliced grooves into the frozen lake. “Looks like they’ve begun cutting without us,” Rurik declared.

“They’ll only cut it six inches,” Leo explained. “They’ll score it off and then drill in and saw blocks in sections. We’ll start in one area and process across the lake, being careful to leave the surface strong enough to support the teams and people.

“That’s my family,” Leo announced. “My father is over there. I’ll introduce you.” He pulled the wagon to a stop near the ramp where they would bring the ice up out of the lake. Leo carefully positioned the back of the wagon at the edge of the ramp.

“This is how you’ll have to do it,” Leo told Rurik. “You want to be sure and get the bed of the wagon even with the ramp to make the loading easier. We’ll slide the blocks of ice up the ramp, and you’ll take a hook and help pull them into the wagon. We try to get as much on each load as possible and then take it to the icehouse where Mr. Adlum and his boys can unload it.” After he was satisfied with the positioning and had set the brake, Leo nodded to Rurik. “Come, and I’ll introduce you to my father.”

They trudged out onto the frozen lake, and Leo pointed to one of the teams of horses. “That’s Merrill over there with the duns. Then to your right is Tobe, and the farther team is Zadoc. And this,” Leo said, pausing in front of two very tall men, “is my father, Bogart Krause, and my brother Flynn.”

“Who have we here?” Mr. Krause asked.

“This is Carl Jorgenson’s nephew, Rurik. He’s come to help in Carl’s stead.”

Rurik extended his hand. “I hope you don’t mind. Uncle Carl was not feeling up to it this time.”

Krause nodded. “He’s not a healthy man anymore, but still I hate to tell him no. A man doesn’t like to be put out to pasture. I was glad to hear you were coming to help him with the business. Good to meet you.” He shook Rurik’s hand. “Do you know much about this kind of work?”

“No, but I learn fast,” Rurik said, smiling.

“I figured he could drive the wagon back and forth to the icehouse.”

“That would be good,” Krause replied. “Are Basil and his boys ready?”

“Yes. I spoke with them first. They’re back there laying sawdust and readying the lift.”

“Good. Well, as you can see, Rurik, we’ve been scoring the ice. We’ll get to work cutting blocks now. It’s a lengthy process, but the pay is good.”

After that, there was very little conversation. Rurik insisted on helping with the initial cuts, and by the time the blocks were loaded, he was more than willing to take a break and drive the wagon. The hard work helped stave off the cold, but Rurik found himself longing for a warm fire and maybe even a cup of something hot.

Nevertheless, he worked alongside Leo and his brothers for many hours before a break was called. They threw blankets over the backs of the horses, gave them water and oats, then sat around a nice fire to warm up a bit. There were refreshments of coffee and sandwiches, and all of the men, with exception to Merrill, ate and drank their fill. Merrill, on the other hand, showered attention on the horses.

Rurik greatly admired the Krauses, an obviously industrious bunch. They worked as one, seemingly knowing by instinct what the other would do. He supposed it came from years of practice and working together. Just like a wheat harvest in Kansas.

The brother introduced as Flynn joined Rurik by the fire. “You’ve been a good hand to have,” he told Rurik. “Sure glad you came out to help us.”

“My pleasure. I was just sitting here admiring the way you all work together. It reminded me of my family in Kansas.”

“We know our responsibilities. Our father made it clear
that we were each expected to hold our own. Now it’s almost become a competition.” He grinned. “I for one can work circles around Leo. He’s getting too old and fat.”

Rurik laughed. “Well, it doesn’t seem to slow him much. None of your brothers could be faulted for that.”

After the break they were back to work again, and Rurik felt aches and pains in muscles he’d never known he had. He knew he’d be grateful when the workday came to an end, though he had no idea of when that might happen. He had to admit, however, that he was fascinated with the whole ice-harvest process. The Krause men maneuvered the heavy chunks as if they were a part of their own bodies. The thick slabs were sawed and pried, pulled and positioned into the wagon, then driven to the icehouse. That was where Rurik came in. He found that to be much easier than sawing. The slippery, snow-packed roads were a challenge, but the horses seemed surefooted. Even so, when the light began to fade, Rurik was glad to know the workday was ending.

He had no sooner returned to the lake with his empty wagon, however, than a commotion at the lake’s edge drew his attention. Bogart Krause was trying to maneuver one of the teams, and something had caused the horse on the right to become agitated. He refused to cooperate.

Rurik wondered if he should do something to lend a hand, but then, without warning, the horse began to fight the man’s hold on the reins. The gelding was trying to rear, but the constraints of his harness and mate only made him more frantic.

“Whoa, Herrman. Stand fast.” But the draft horse had no interest in instruction, and by now his distress was making
the other horse frantic. Before Rurik could set the brake and climb down to offer assistance, Bogart Krause was knocked to the ground.

One of his sons came running, but before he could reach his father, the horse named Herrman reared into the air and came down on top of Krause. The older man cried out in pain. In one quick motion, Rurik leaped from the wagon and ran down the ramp to the injured man. He couldn’t be sure which brother was working to calm the team, but there was no time for formalities or niceties. Rurik quickly grabbed hold of Bogart Krause’s arm and pulled him away from the flailing hooves.