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so you can concentrate on the plow?”
    “Good idea.” She moved the wooden handles up and down to figure the best place and gripped them fiercely this time. Hjelmer clucked the team ahead, and Ingeborg gritted her teeth. Surely she could outsmart brute strength. After all, Far and Gilbert made this look so easy. “Keep ’em straight.” She’d never hear the end of it if the rows turned out to be crooked.
    The first steps were the hardest, but once the blade angled correctly and the horses moved forward smoothly, it was somewhat easier. After they had made a trip up and back in the garden plot, Ingeborg signaled a halt. Through narrowed eyes she studied their work. A wee bit crooked, but not erratic. Her arms and shoulders screamed in protest. “I need to get some heavy leather gloves. You wait here.”
    “I’m too short, aren’t I?”
    “Ja, I’m afraid so, but without you, I could not do this.” She made herself smile at him before she headed for the shop where Far kept a stock of leather gloves. Most of them needed patching. Resolved to do that in the evenings, she found two with no holes in the palms and returned to her purgatory. They were about half done when Mari came out to say that the midday meal was ready.
    She let Hjelmer unhitch the team and drive the horses back to the barn, where they could rest too. “Don’t water them.”
    “I know. Too hot.”
    Ingeborg nodded and started up the rise to the house. Wet sheets and airing bedding flapped in the breeze that dried thesweat on her face and neck. Could she go back for more or cry defeat? With tears near the surface, she washed up and sat in her place at the table.
    “Have you had enough?” her mother asked, her eyebrows arched and head shaking.
    Ingeborg glanced over to see Hjelmer sliding into his chair. His slight headshake put the steel again in her backbone. “It is not done yet but soon will be.”
    Her little brother’s grin was worth the effort. At least she hoped so.
    The two men hadn’t yet returned from their trip to town, so the others ate without them before returning to their chores.
    Far and Gilbert drove into the yard as Ingeborg and Hjelmer were hitching the team to the disk. Two heavy rocks sat on the frame, the weight needed to keep the disks in the ground and not riding on top.
    “You finished the plowing?” Gilbert stared at his sister, who managed to nod only through sheer force of will.
    “Hjelmer will do the disking.”
    Far started to say something but cut it off and drove the wagon on up to the house to unload the supplies.
    Looking elated, Hjelmer hupped the team and returned to the now plowed garden. Walking behind the disk, he held the lines firmly, focusing on the job ahead. In moments he stepped up onto the back frame of the disk, his slight weight added to that of the rocks. How like his far he was in that way, able to ignore things around him to work solely on the job at hand. Ingeborg felt a fierce pride in her little brother.
    The sun was still high in the sky when Hjelmer drove the team out of the gate and back to the barn, where he and Ingeborg removed the harnesses and hung them on the wall.Lifting the heavy leather up onto the waiting pegs took her last bit of energy, but they had done it. Plowed and disked the garden. Now the others could start raking.
    At supper, Ingeborg could hardly haul the fork all the way up to her mouth. Her chin dropped to her chest, but sleep could not come with every muscle screaming and tightening at the same time.
    “You foolish girl,” Mor said. “Come. We have some liniment that will help. Women are not cut out to do the men’s chores. I hope you learned your lesson.”
    Too exhausted to even respond, she followed Mor to the bedroom and, after removing her top, sat on the edge of the bed.

    Ingeborg woke up the following Saturday, grateful to be able to move with ease. The morning after their plowing session, she’d awoken with every muscle and joint screaming. After