An Untamed Land by Lauraine Snelling

returned in time to share the basket of food Mrs. Flaksrude had fixed for them. But other than that, they spent most of their time with a group of men from the next car who were also heading west to homestead. When the train stopped, as it so frequently did, Ingeborg could see the men striding up and down the station platform, their breaths creating puff clouds as they walked and talked.
    “Next time they are going to take Thorliff with them,” Ingeborg muttered.
    “You know men, they don’t like to be bothered with small boys,” Kaaren said, then shifted on the hard bench, trying to get comfortable.
    “Humph.” Ingeborg settled herself more securely into the corner, a blanket she’d drawn from their valise folded behind her. She rubbed her stomach and swallowed carefully. Was this queasy feeling gnawing in her stomach from something she’d eaten, or was itbecause of Roald’s babe she carried?
    “Are you all right?” Kaaren leaned forward to look more closely in the gloomy light. Kerosene lamplight gave everyone a yellow tinge and deep shadows.
    “I will be.” Ingeborg gritted her teeth.
    “You look terrible. See, you are even perspiring, and it is not that warm in here.”
    Ingeborg bolted to her feet and flew down the aisle, careening off the seat backs in her desperation. She shoved open the door of the necessary and threw up.
    “Are you all right?” Ingeborg heard Kaaren’s concerned voice as she knocked on the door.
    “Ja, I will be,” Ingeborg called out.
    “What?” Kaaren said, leaning her ear against the door.
    Ingeborg raised her voice and repeated herself.
    “Can I get you something? Water, perhaps?” asked Kaaren as she shifted Gunhilde to her shoulder.
    “Nei, there is some here.” Ingeborg wet the bit of muslin she kept tucked in her sleeve for a handkerchief and wiped the beads of moisture from her forehead and her mouth. If only the train would stop swaying.
    “Are you running a fever?” Kaaren asked when Ingeborg finally made her way back to their seats.
    “Nei, I am not sick in that way. Remember when you were in the early months with her?” Ingeborg nodded to the infant sleeping in Kaaren’s arms.
    “O-o-h.” Kaaren’s face lit up like a brightly burning candle in the dark. “You are with child. Oh, Ingeborg, I am so happy for you.” Kaaren clasped one of Ingeborg’s frigid hands in her own. “No wonder you . . . you . . .” Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Does Roald know yet?”
    Ingeborg shook her head. “I planned to tell him as soon as we stepped foot on our new land, but you know what the last few days have been like. It slipped my mind in all the moving.” She shook her head. The guilt of keeping something this special from her husband made her squirm. To be honest, she just hadn’t felt like telling Roald. While there had been no good time, she knew she could have found a way.
    She laid her hand on her still-flat belly and gazed at the sleeping babe in Kaaren’s arms. This certainly wasn’t the best time to be suffering from morning sickness, but maybe this one episode would bethe only incident. She couldn’t afford to be sick now. There was so much to do when they reached the end of their journey. And what would Roald say?
    A day later, after countless trips up the aisle, Ingeborg thought maybe she really did have some intestinal disorder. But if so, it hadn’t seemed to bother anyone else, at least not as far as she could tell.
    The train slowed and ground to a squealing halt. She stared out the window, but as for the past several hours, all she could see was blowing snow. The flakes glistened like flashes of white in the light from the kerosene lamp.
    The uniformed conductor entered from the rear door and called out commands in what Ingeborg was beginning to recognize as American.
    Several of the men got to their feet and, after donning heavy coats, caps, and gloves, followed the conductor out the door. A gust of wind sent a swirl of flakes into the