Dakota Dream by Lauraine Snelling Page A

cloud dimmed the rising excitement in her eyes. “But how could I leave Mrs. Norgaard?”
    “I think that can be arranged. I just kept thinking what a struggle Nora had had and I know many others feel cut off because they can’t talk easily—”
    “That’s it!” Clara clasped her hands and buried them in her apron between her knees.
    “What? Tell me what?”
    “You said anyone who needs help with talking?”
    Ingeborg nodded.
    Clara turned to face her friend. “Even though he—I mean, they, might have lived around here all their lives.”
    “I hadn’t thought to include someone like that, but, of course.” Ingeborg’s brow wrinkled in concentration.
    “Dag Weinlander.” Clara leaned against the back of the sofa. “Ingeborg, you are the answer to my prayers.”
    “I’m glad to hear that since you aren’t making a lick of sense.”
    “What do you know of Dag Weinlander?”
    Ingeborg rolled her eyes upward and pursed her lips. “Not a great deal, I must admit. He doesn’t come to church or any of the town socials. Besides, I have never found him to be very friendly when I’ve met with him anywhere. You know, in a town this size, everyone knows everyone else and all their business, too. But he seems a puzzle.” She tilted her head to the side and studied her friend. “I take it you know more?”
    Clara told her the story she’d heard from Mrs. Norgaard. At the end of the tale, Ingeborg removed a cambric bit from her bag and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “I had no idea. Oh, the poor, poor man.” She paused, staring at the bit of fabric in her fingers. She nodded and looked up at Clara, a smile widening her lips as she spoke. “We’ll just have to help him out, won’t we?”
    That Sunday at church, during the announcements, Reverend Moen invited all those who would like help with their English to meet at the church on Tuesday evening at six-thirty.
    Ingeborg looked over the heads of her brood to Clara. Their private smile acknowledged that others would be invited, too.
    When Clara returned home, she hung up her coat and tripped lightly up the stairs. The closing hymn kept echoing in her mind so she sang along, “Blest be the tie that binds, our hearts in Christian love . . .”
    Mrs. Norgaard waited for her in the chair by the window. “I love to hear you sing and that song is one of my favorites. Maybe I’ll soon be able to go to church again. I think I miss the music most of all.”
    “Ja, these folks, they sing good.” She took the other chair. “He did it—Reverend Moen said the English class will begin on Tuesday.”
    “Good. Then our next step is to invite Dag here for me to tell him about the class. His shop is not open for business today, so the livery is where he’ll be. After dinner, if you would, walk over there with a message for me. Do we have any more of your apple cake? He seemed to enjoy that.”
    “No, but I could put one in to bake while I finish the dinner.” Clara stood and barely refrained from skipping out the door.
    Down at the livery stable a while later, Will came out at her call, rubbing the dust off his hands as he came. “C’n I help you, froken Johanson?” His grin displayed a gap between his front teeth, besides showing his delight at her arrival.
    “I hope so. Is Mr. Weinlander here?”
    “He’s at the forge. You need a horse or sumpin’?”
    “No.” Clara shook her head, a wistful smile betraying her desire as she looked to the stalls. “Perhaps someday I’ll ride again, but for now, Mrs. Norgaard is asking for Da—Mr. Weinlander to come see her.”
    “Right away.” Will touched a finger to his forehead and trotted back through the barn to the separate building facing the other street. Ringing sounds of hammer on steel announced that Dag was hard at work. The lad returned in a matter of seconds. “Said he’ll be right over, soon’s he finishes the piece he’s working on.”
    “Thank you.” Clara refused to recognize the letdown