Free A Land to Call Home by Lauraine Snelling

right, she would be able to move like that again.
    “You sure you should be here?” Ingeborg reached in the back of the wagon and swung Andrew to the ground. “Now, stay by me,” she ordered in the tone that even Andrew knew meant he’d better obey.
    “Had to be.”
    Ingeborg nodded. “Thought as much. You could take a lie-down here in the wagon later.”
    “Ja, I thought of that.”
    “Andrew!” Ingeborg spoke sharply in her no-nonsense voice.
    The youngster, still in the dress of babyhood, looked over his shoulder, with Bjorklund blue eyes pleading for freedom. “Find Tor.” He looked around the end of the wagon, then back at his mother.
    Ingeborg shook her head. She moved to the rear of the wagon and assisted Haakan in unloading the tree trunks cut in two-foot lengths, just right for shingles.
    As soon as the Baard boys arrived, they pitched in, and before long, Haakan had his shingle-splitting class all set up. Each splitter sat on a stump with the butt in front of him, grasping a froe in his right hand and setting it at a slight angle on top of the butt. With the mallet in his left, he tapped the top of the metal froe and the shingle split away. It sounded easy and Haakan made it look that way. But if the froe wasn’t held just right, when hit with the mallet the steel blade bounced or fell flat, neither of which action split a shingle.
    “You got to hold on to that handle.” Haakan adjusted the upright handle for Swen. “Now, you don’t have to hit hard, just enough to drive the blade into the butt. The wood will split by itself.”
    The tip of Swen’s tongue showed between his clamping lips. When he hit the froe just right and the shingle split away, a grin to dazzle the eye creased his face. “I did it!” He set the froe again and repeated the action.
    “You got it, son. Keep on, and when you have a stack of about ten in front of you, pick them up all at once and lay them in the frame there. That will help form the bundles, and then you can tie them so it is easy to carry them to the roof.”
    He walked between his eager pupils, all of whom now had the rhythm—most of the time.
    As others arrived, the boys joined the splitters until ten lads were busy splitting shingles, and two others tied bundles and carriedthem from the three-sided square frames to the growing stack of bundles. They traded off jobs, and soon laughter and joking punctuated the slam of mallet on froe and the screech of wood splitting into shingles.
    With each boy set and producing to his satisfaction, Haakan unhitched his team and drove them to the site Lars and Joseph had already marked out with pegs driven into the corners. They would use four teams or more to cut sod, and the men could rotate laying the strips, hauling, and cutting.
    Some people brought wood for the fire, others brought hams and fried chickens, baked beans, the last vegetables of the season from their gardens, and pies and cakes for dessert. Tools appeared alongside the men, and soon the walls of the schoolhouse began to rise. Joseph ran the crew laying the three-foot-by-eighteen-inch sod blocks, overlapping the ends in the manner of bricklayers the world over.
    After agreeing not to discuss the fire at the Bjorklunds anymore, the women got the cook fire going, the coffee started, and hauled out the water bucket and dipper. They assigned Penny to trot water to the workers and two of the younger girls to oversee the small children. Agnes arranged quilts for Kaaren to lean against on a stack of small tree trunks that would eventually become the rafters.
    “I don’t need such babying,” she said with a laugh.
    “Sit!” Agnes tried to look and sound stern as she pointed to the impromptu chair. “You can tell stories to entertain the youngsters, if you like.”
    “But I . . .”
    As two women lined up on either side of Agnes, all with matching crossed arms and frowns, Kaaren did as told.
    “Uff da.” But leaning against the padded logs felt good, and with