Dakota Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page B

water into the pitcher on the stand. “Now you can wash and, when you’re ready, there’s breakfast waiting.”
    “Ma . . .” A young voice floated up the stairwell.
    “That’s Knute. He’s five. You’ve met Mary . . .”
    Nora nodded.
    “Ma-a-a.”
    “Goodness. With these four of mine there’s always something.” She turned in a swirl of skirts but paused at the door. “You come down when you’re ready now.”
    Nora pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head. She felt like a whirlwind had just blown through the room. She crossed the room and closed the door. Now, she would finally have a real washing.
    In spite of the heating grate in the floor, she shivered in the cold room as she hurried through her bathing. Wishing for clean clothes, she thought of her trunk still at the station. But that would come later. She pulled on her clothes and the long black wool stockings. While warmer, she no longer felt so clean. She shook out her shirtwaist and black wool skirt before buttoning them in place.
    With her hair brushed and rebraided, she felt more like a young woman who had boarded the train for a new country. Actually, she was feeling better than she had felt for days. In spite of her difficulties, she hummed under her breath while she made the bed and wiped the water from the oak stand.
    As she made her way down the stairs, she could hear young voices. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of how long it had been since her last meal.
    She turned to the right and stopped at the entry to the kitchen. Two children sat at the oval oak table in front of the window, reading their lessons. They looked up when they heard her tread. Nora smiled at them both and then at the picture Ingeborg made. The baby was nestled in her arms while a chubby little girl played with the cat at her mother’s feet.
    An ache began somewhere in the middle of Nora’s heart. This was what she had dreamed of . . . and now that dream was shattered. She resecured the smile on her face and buried the ache under the ashes of her yesterday. As Ma and the Good Book said, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
    And this was definitely morning—she glanced at the grandfather clock by the door—but not morning for much longer.
    “I’m sorry to be such a lazybones, I . . .”
    “Not at all.” Ingeborg shook her head. “You needed the rest. Now, I know you must be starved.” When she started to get up, Nora laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder.
    “No, you stay there with the baby. Just tell me where things are and I will fix my own. The coffee smells wonderful.” She reached into the glass-faced cupboard for a cup. A loaf of bread sat on the counter, next to a crock of jam.
    “Thank you, my dear. Everything is right in front of you. We’ll be having soup for dinner in about an hour or when Reverend Moen returns. He had some calls to make.”
    While Nora sliced the homemade bread, Ingeborg introduced her children. “Mary is the oldest at seven, Knute is five, Grace is three, and James here is five months.” She dropped a kiss on the rosy cheek of the baby asleep in her arms. The gentle rocking of the chair creaked its own song, in counterpoint with the kettle singing on the stove.
    Nora sighed blissfully as she took her first sip of coffee and bite of the jellied bread. She placed two thick slices on a plate and carried her breakfast over to the table. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked the children.
    The two with hair so blond as to be white, hers in braids and his bowl-cut, stared at her solemnly. Mary broke the ice with a grin. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”
    Not to be outdone, Knute piped up. “Did you like the train ride?”
    “He always wants to go on the train.” Mary closed her book. “But we never have.” She leaned her chin on her stacked fists. “Ma said you went on a ship, too.”
    Nora set her plate and cup on the table, then pulled out a high-backed