Free The Last Letter Home by Vilhelm Moberg Page B

had received his punishment. No one must consider himself as God’s chosen; He treats all his created lives alike.
    To do good and trust to the Almighty’s mercy—that was the only salvation for a human being here on earth.
    Once more Kristina had had the experience that she and Uncle Danjel were united in some marvelous way, they belonged together: They had both given up this life for another. They had gone through the world—they lived for another world, for one their eyes could not see.

V
    THE TOMAHAWKS ARE BEING SHARPENED
    —1—
    The winter of 1861–62—their twelfth in North America—was the most severe Karl Oskar and Kristina had experienced.
    Heavy snowfalls began early and by November high drifts had accumulated which remained throughout the winter. The cold sharpened its edge every day—the frost penetrated into the houses and painted its white nap on the walls. If they had still been living in their old log cabin they would have been unable to exist through this cruel winter. Even in this house—so well built and with good fireplaces—they had great trouble keeping warm. They might let the fires burn till late in the evening, yet when they awakened in the morning all the heat was gone. The first chore was to fire the stove and warm their house again.
    It seemed as if Karl Oskar and the boys cut wood and carried it inside all day long. And outside the walls of the house the bitter cold lurked. As soon as anyone stuck his nose outside the door he was assailed by stinging bites. The cold was a persistent pursuer who bit into any unprotected part of the body. The skin on one’s cheeks felt as if covered by a crust. They protected their hands with great woolen mittens, the thickest Kristina could knit, but even with these the fingers grew numb, clumsy, and stiff as wooden sticks.
    They must constantly be on guard against frostbite; in this winter weather a limb could be frozen in a few moments, especially those of sensitive children. Dan and Ulrika attended school in the newly built meetinghouse in Center City, but during the coldest days they were kept at home. However much Kristina bundled them up it was never sufficient to keep them warm. If they should get behind in their lessons they might catch up later, but frozen ears, hands, and feet could never be replaced.
    They spent most of the winter inside; only chores in the stable, tending the animals, and other necessary errands, brought them outside.
    Tree-felling in the forest usually warmed the man who handled the ax, but this winter Karl Oskar had to interrupt his timber cutting for buildings because one of his legs turned numb during the work; the injury to his left leg became worse in this merciless cold. After a day of much walking his swollen shank ached and felt sore during the night, and his limp was more pronounced than before. Apparently he was stuck with this limp for the rest of his life, so he might as well learn to get along with it. The price he had paid for his life that time when he escaped the robbers who had coaxed him onto their wagon must be paid in installments during many years of pain and lameness.
    Before he went to bed in the evenings, Kristina would rub his sore leg with camphor-brännvin which somewhat eased the gnawing ache. And each time she poured the fluid on his limb she comforted him about the injury: If he hadn’t had this old injury he might already have lost his life in the war between the states. She herself was grateful:
    “I can thank your bad shank I’m not a widow.”
    “Are you so pleased to be married to a lame man?”
    “Better a lame man than a dead one!”
    The sharp smell tickled Kristina’s nostrils as she poured the camphor-brännvin into her hand and rubbed the swollen lower calf of his leg. She recognized God’s meaning and purpose in everything that happened to them; God had lamed Karl Oskar’s leg to save him from the human slaughter on the battlefield.
    “I am still sound in life itself, of