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watched Erik lead Tess to the slough.
    “You and the cow went for a walk?” he asked.
    “Ja,” Erik replied. “But Tess went first.”
    “Good you came home together.” Rolf scratched the calf’s head. “Fine heifer calf.”
    “It’s a tired calf,” said Erik, hammering the cow’s tether stake into the ground.
    “We haven’t built a barn or ploughed a field,” said Rolf, “but our farm is already growing.”
    Erik looked from Rolf to the calf and back again. “It’s a start,” he said.
    He poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a chunk of the hard, dry flatbread his mother had made in Minnesota. Still chewing, he grabbed the knife and went to cut the sods as Rolf ploughed. His foot still stung from the spiny plant, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his arms from carrying the sods.
    Early in the evening, Rolf tethered the oxen. Erik laid the last of the prepared sods while Rolf unloaded the wagon. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll see Lars for wood to make window and door frames.”
    Erik looked at the house. The walls were above his knees, but he thought them too low for the amount of work they’d done.
    The next morning, a wagon rattled into the yard as they finished breakfast. Lars sat on the wooden seat beside the red-headed young man Erik and Rolf had met on the trail when they first arrived in the district.
    He must be Olaf, Erik realized. His cousin, or step- cousin if there was such a thing.
    “We’ve come to help,” said Lars, pulling the horses to a stop. “Unless you’re done?” He grinned at Erik.
    “Olaf,” said Rolf, ignoring his brother. His voice was high-pitched and unlike himself. “I didn’t know it was you the other day, when we met.”
    Olaf looked at Rolf. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
    “Olaf,” said Lars. “This is Erik Brekke, the son of Rolf’s new wife, Inga.”
    “Good morning,” said Erik.
    Olaf shot him a quick glance and an even quicker nod.
    Lars turned to Rolf. “I found a few pieces of lumber lying around. Perhaps you can use them in your house.”
    “Manga takk, Lars,” said Rolf, still looking at Olaf. “We were just going to visit you to buy wood to make a door.”
    Lars climbed down from the wagon and gestured to Erik. “Help me unload this,” he said. “We’ll leave those two to stare at each other.”
    As Lars spoke, Olaf deliberately looked away from Rolf and climbed down on the other side of the wagon.
    Confused, Erik helped Lars lay the boards in a pile.
    “Olaf,” Rolf said, still in that strange voice. “It’s been so many years. You’ve grown to be a man.” He moved around the wagon, his hand outstretched.
    Olaf looked at the hand. “Ja,” he said, his voice hard. “Many years.” Turning his back on Rolf, he tugged on one of the boards in the wagon.
    Rolf stood a moment longer, his hand still out in front of him.
    “You help Olaf with that long one,” Lars told Erik. “Rolf can show me what he has planned.”
    He went over to Rolf and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Show me your house, Rolf,” he said. “You’ve made progress in a short time.”
    Rolf seemed to give himself a shake. “Certainly,” he said. “Erik is a hard worker.”
    Erik almost dropped the piece of wood he’d just picked up. Rolf had said something nice about him! He took a firmer hold on the wood, trying not to show how pleased he felt. At the other end of the plank, Olaf scowled.
    While the brothers made window and door frames, Olaf joined Erik laying sods. They worked silently. Olaf’s sullen face didn’t invite conversation.
    When the framing was done, Lars fastened together strips of wood to make a door, while Rolf went back to ploughing.
    Using Lars’s team, Olaf and Erik stacked the sods in the wagon instead of carrying them one by one to the house. Olaf worked swiftly, effortlessly lifting each heavy sod into place. Erik pushed himself to keep up, but Olaf moved two sods for each one of Erik’s.
    When they