Free Dakota Dusk by Lauraine Snelling Page A

can set things out. If you still would like to help me, we need to wash everything down tomorrow to get rid of the soot. Like spring cleaning all over again. I closed up the rooms afore I left to help on the fire line, so this house ain’t bad as some.”
    Rebekka shuddered. The smell of smoke permeated everything inside and out, and the odor made her eyes water. What they needed now was a good rain to wash things clean again.
    That night she fell asleep with her windows wide open and the breeze trying to blow away the fire’s residue. How good it felt to be home, in spite of the fire. But what would she do about school?
    In the morning the three women were aproned and wearing kerchiefs tied over their heads to protect their hair as they dragged the rugs out to the line for a good beating, washed and hung out the curtains, and scrubbed down every surface in the house. Since she was the tallest, Rebekka stood on a stool to wash the outsides of the windows.
    “Good afternoon, Miss Stenesrude,” Mr. Larson called as he opened the picket gate and strode up the walk. “Seems everyone in town is doing the same thing today. Scrubbing and counting our blessings. Good to see you back.”
    “Good to be back. Although I wasn’t too excited about my welcome.” She climbed down from her stool and wiped her hands on her apron. “What can I do for you?”
    “Could you come to a school board meeting tonight at the church at seven?”
    “Of course.”
    “Good. I have two more members to call on. I’ll see you then.” He turned and strode back to his horse. “See you tonight.”
    The meeting that night had one item on the agenda. How would they get the money to rebuild the schoolhouse?
    Within a week the bank had loaned the school district enough money to begin the building. Rebekka spent a good part of every day driving the buggy to the outlying farms to invite the people to a school raising.
    “You mean like a barn raising?” one woman asked.
    “Just like that.” Rebekka nodded. “Plan on the second Saturday in September. Most people will be done harvesting by then, so we’ll make it into a school building and end of harvest celebration. If enough people turn out, we should be able to frame the walls and put on the roof by Sunday night.”
    “Count on us.”
    Rebekka missed only one farm and that was intentional. As she drove by the Strands’, she kept her eyes straight ahead. But ignoring the goosebumps chasing each other up and down her back wasn’t as easy as looking the other way. Why did she feel that the whole situation wasn’t resolved yet? She hadn’t even heard hide nor hair of Adolph. She tried to put a lid on her worry box. “Remember, you ninny, that God says He watches over us like a hen with her chicks. And you know how fierce that little hen can be.” The horse flicked his ears at her voice.
    The lumber came in on the train, and the townspeople hauled it in their wagons to the school site. Rebekka walked among the stacked lumber piles, inhaling the scent of freshly milled timbers and siding. Wooden kegs of nails, crates of window glass, and the sawhorses belonging to Lars Larson lay in readiness. The flat river rocks used for support under posts and beams had been measured and placed in the proper positions.
    Off to the side, the cast-iron bell salvaged from the burned building rested, cleaned and repainted and ready to lift into the new tower. Rebekka stopped at the bell and tapped it with the toe of her boot. A hollow thunk made her smile. Like everyone or everything, the bell needed to be hung in the right position to make music. “Soon,” she promised the inert object. “Soon you’ll be calling the children to school again.” She turned in place, taking in all the supplies, ready for the morning. All that was needed were the people.
    The hammering and sawing started about the time the first rooster crowed in Willowford. Rebekka bounded out of bed and rushed through her morning toilet as if