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if the wheat wasn’t dry enough to cut and bind, they’d have the party as they planned. Everyone was in need of a party, especially before the really heavy work of harvest began, for once their wheat was threshed, Haakan and Lars would take the steam engine and the threshing machine and travel the country threshing grain.
    Ingeborg almost hated to think of the weeks ahead.

Chapter 5
    Nearing St. Paul, Minnesota
End of August
    “I never dreamed a country could be so big.”
    “What’s that you say?”
    Augusta Bjorklund turned from looking out the train window and glanced at the man in the seat facing her. She hadn’t meant to make her comment out loud. It just slipped out. All the letters that described this land hadn’t even begun to do it justice. Here she’d been on the train three days, and they still weren’t to Blessing. Since the conductor spoke Norwegian, he’d told her that the next big stop where she would change trains—again—was St. Paul, Minnesota.
    They’d be there by evening.
    She shook her head at the other passenger’s question, since she didn’t understand what he’d said, then turned back to the window. So many fields being harvested. Wouldn’t her brother Johann love to see this—this vast land and all this bounty? Trees and lakes and rivers and farmland the likes of which she couldn’t even begin to count.
    No wonder the newspapers at home often described this land as flowing with milk and honey. True, the streets of the cities she’d seen weren’t paved with gold, but then she’d never believed they were. Otherwise none of the immigrants would have returned to Norway, and some did. They didn’t come home wealthy either.
    Her stomach rumbled, and she laid a hand over her midsection. Surely she would be able to buy food in St. Paul far cheaper than what she’d seen so far. While Johann had warned her that food would cost dearly, she hadn’t dreamed it would be so expensive. Until she found she was running out of money.
    She glanced up to catch the eye of the man across from her. The look he gave her didn’t need an interpreter. She could feel the heat blossom on her neck and up her face. Had he no manners at all? Why, if she could just speak the language, she’d tell him to mind his own business. That was for sure.
    If only she had listened to Johann and did as the letters from Mor had said. Learn to speak American . If she’d heard that once, she’d heard or read it, well . . . She sighed and returned to the window.
    When his foot nudged hers, she shot him a look that could have scorched corn.
    He tipped his hat and winked at her.
    Of all the colossal nerve. Was this the way of American men? If so, give her a good solid Norwegian any day.
    That of course brought her back to thoughts of Elmer. That no good, lying . . .
    The conductor made his way down the aisle, swaying along with the rocking train. He stopped beside Augusta’s seat. “Two more stops and you’ll be getting off, miss.”
    Oh, how good to hear her beautiful Norwegian language. “Mange takk.” She gave him her best smile. “And how do I know what train to go to there in St. Paul?”
    “The ticket agent will direct you. Just go up to the window and ask.”
    “But . . . but what if he doesn’t speak Norwegian?”
    “Oh, most of them do, a bit anyway. We get lots of immigrants from Norway out here. Swedes too and other Scandinavians, Germans, Russians. There’s lots of people going west for free land. Not as many as a few years ago, but still a lot. You got family waiting for you?”
    Augusta nodded. “My brother Hjelmer and Mor. Others too.”
    “I’ll be by to make sure you get off at the right place.” He touched a finger to the bill on his uniform cap and continued down the aisle.
    Augusta wanted to summon him back and ask more questions about the changing of trains. But he had a job to do, so she sank back against the seat. With great care she kept her gaze from meeting that of the man on the