Free Believing the Dream by Lauraine Snelling Page B

it and into his mother.
    “I was coming as fast as I heard the bells.” Ingeborg hugged him, then stepped back to cup his face between her hands. “You are home at last.” Her chin quivered, and her eyes turned suspiciously bright.
    Thorliff nodded. “I am home, and if I don’t get right back out there, Astrid is going to put the horse and sleigh away.”
    “So what is wrong with that? She does it all the time.” Ingeborg shut the door and drew him into the kitchen. “They’ll be up from the barn in just a few minutes.”
    “I’ll be right down, then.” Thorliff hugged her again and headed up the stairs, stairs that were steeper and narrower than he remembered. He threw his valise on the bench by the wall and shucked his good clothes as fast as he could, then pulled on his old pants still hanging on their peg on the wall, along with a woolen shirt. He changed boots faster than he ever had and clomped back downstairs. His chores coat, too, still hung on the peg, this time by the back door.
    “Back as soon as . . .” The rest of his words were lost in the slamming of the door.
    The horse and sleigh were gone, so he trotted on down to the shed where Astrid had already backed the sleigh into its place and was unhooking the harnessed horse from the shafts.
    “I said I’d do it.” He lowered the shaft to the ground.
    “I know, but this way we’ll be done sooner. I thought you might like to go over to the big barn and say hello to those milking.”
    He walked beside as she led the horse into the stall waiting for it. Together they removed the harness, and while he hung it on the pegs set in the posts of the barn wall, she dug out a can and poured the oats into the feedbox set in one side of the manger. The horse on the other side nickered his request for a feeding too, so she gave him a small bit.
    “You didn’t do all the work,” she reminded the dark bay gelding as she squeezed by him on her way out of the stall.
    A barn cat twined about her boots as she and Thorliff started for the door. A blast of frigid north wind made them both duck their chins into their coat collars. Snow swirled and stung their faces, making it hard to see beyond their feet. They followed the shoveled path to the main barn and fought with the wind to open the door.
    Bursting through the small door beside the wide double ones, they laughed at the same time and stamped their boots. The warmth of a barn full of cows and the quiet with the door closed made Thorliff pause. The telescope had switched ends on him. Now Northfield lay at the tiny end, and he was home.
    “Thorliff, you came.” Andrew looked up from pouring milk from the bucket into the strainer set on top of the milk cans. A bit splashed over as he poured fast, set the bucket down, and met them halfway down the aisle.
    Thorliff reached to shake his brother’s hand, but Andrew grabbed him in a hug instead.
    “Thorliff,” Haakan called from behind one of the cows. “Over here, milking Jezebel.”
    “He’s the only one who can.” Andrew kept his voice down. “She kicked me halfway down the barn.”
    “Did you put the kickers on her?” Thorliff stopped behind the only Holstein in the barn.
    “Of course. Didn’t do no good.” Andrew and Thorliff stopped where they could see their father, forehead clamped into the cow’s flank, fingers stripping the last of the milk from the now slack udder. The cow switched her tail and shifted her back feet.
    Haakan grabbed the full pail and rose all in one smooth motion before she could move farther.
    “At least she gave you a warning.” Thorliff stepped back out of his father’s way.
    “Here, please dump this.” Haakan handed the froth-filled bucket to Andrew, then drew Thorliff into the circle of light from the kerosene lantern. “You’ve lost weight.”
    “Ja, some.”
    “Don’t they feed you there?”
    “Ja, they do.” Thorliff looked into his father’s eyes, somewhat shaded by the poor light. Was there a shine