Chapter One: Carrie & the Crazy Quilt
Carrie and the Crazy Quilt
by Nelda Johnson Liebig
Midwest Traditions, 1996
© Nelda Johnson Liebig
Chapter One: Found
"Mama, here they come!" Carrie tucked her long blond hair behind her ears as she often did when she was excited.
Carrie's mother came running out of the cabin and peered down the narrow road that disappeared into the forest. Carrie cupped her hand to shade her eyes from the evening sun. "They found him! They're coming from the marsh."
Mama's hands shook as she twisted her apron. Worry lines on her forehead changed to a question. "Fritz - my baby - is he all right?"
"Yes, Mama. Look! He sees us and he's waving. So are Papa and Father Pernin. And three of the searchers are with them."
Kleine, Fritz's collie, raced past Carrie down the road. He jumped and barked with joy. His plumed tail wagged wildly. His master was home!
"Oh, thank our Liebe Gott!" Mama exclaimed with a long sigh. She almost always spoke German. Even after five years in America English was so hard for her to learn.
Carrie nodded and, she too, thanked their loving God for bringing her little brother home. When Father Pernin stopped for Fritz before dawn that morning he assured Mama they would be home by mid day. Fritz was always eager to go with Father Pernin when he was hunting pheasants or rabbits.
The men sat around the big table in the kitchen. As they drank mugs of Mama's good coffee Father Pernin explained.
"There we were, Mrs. Heidenworth - your Fritz and me. Hunting pheasants and enjoying the beauty of God's woods when, without warning, fire crawled through the underbrush towards us." He stopped and rubbed his big hands together. "We turned to escape by way of the old marsh, but there it was - more fire. And then before I could pick Fritz up and run we were standing in a circle of fire. I thought of stamping it out, but I knew I couldn't. I knelt to pray right there in the marsh which is almost dry and has been all summer. I asked God to help us."
Father Pernin looked across the table with a grateful look at the men. "Then - right then - you came out of the woods calling our names. It took you no time to beat a path for us. The boy and I walked out of that circle of fire without so much as our socks scorched.
Everyone was quiet. Fritz, exhausted from the long day, was sleeping peacefully, curled on Papa's lap.
Carrie, seated on a stool near the open door, remembered how excited Fritz had been about going hunting with Father Pernin. He woke her up three times in the night asking her if it was time to get up. She sighed. What a pest! She knew it was wrong to have such thoughts and she was truly grateful to God that he was safe. But, God, you know it's true. He's a pest. Ever since that high fever two years ago when he was four years old. Mama explained that because of his sickness he would never be able to go to school or learn to read. But he could work on the homestead. And there was always so much to do.
Papa ran his hand across Fritz's blond curls. "Yes, when we came over the rise looking for you, we saw that fire. I tell you my heart stopped." He sighed. "The fires! When will they burn out? So tinder dry in the woods now. If only God would send rain."
Carrie felt as though her heart stopped too. She could hardly turn to look out the doorway. Would she see that fire creeping silently until, with a monstrous roar like a monstrous bear, it gobbled up the cabin? She shivered and hugged herself.
"Carrie," Mama said, "Wash now and go to bed. Tomorrow is the Sabbath and we must be up early to go to town."
Father Pernin stood and stretched. "Yes. I must go. Much to do before morning."
It seemed to Carrie that Father Pernin could almost touch the slanted roof with his finger tips as his long arms reached above his head. He didn't seem much like a priest. Some people said he had been a lumberjack before God called him to be a minister. But Papa said he was just a very strong man with a very strong faith in God.
Carrie washed in the lean-to shed connected to the kitchen, then climbed the ladder to the sleeping loft. Even though she wasn't cold she snuggled under her crazy quilt, the one she and Oma made together three years ago. She listened as the men talked about the fires and what to do if their homesteads were in danger.
Carrie shivered and put her head under her quilt so she wouldn't hear them.
Chapter Two: More Danger in the Woods
"Hildegard Heidenworth!"
Carrie came running out of the cabin tying her bonnet over her long blond hair. She hurried to the wagon.
"The door, Carrie!" Papa said firmly.
"Oh, yes." She whirled around, pushed the heavy door shut, then dropped the wooden bar in place. No one would break in, but one of the cows might walk right in and make herself at home. Carrie grinned at the thought of her black and white Hildy sitting at the table having a bowl of cornmeal mush.
"I'm sorry Papa. I couldn't find my bonnet." She scrambled up the wheel spokes and sat next to Fritz. She gathered her dress close to her on the old blanket Papa had spread out to protect their Sunday clothes.
Mama and Papa sat tall on the wagon seat, eyes straight ahead as the team responded to Papa's clucking. With a slap of the reins across their rumps the horses started down the lane and out onto the dusty road that led to the village of Peshtigo.
Smoke! thought Carrie, looking around. Always smoke! And ashes! She brushed at the ashes on her dark green dress. She clamped a hand over her nose and closed her eyes. Won't the fires ever stop?
Papa said the settlers burning stumps to clear their land had caused the fires. Others claimed that sparks from the locomotives pulling loads of logs were to blame. But nothing could spoil this day for Carrie. My birthday! October 1, 1871 and I'm 13 years old. Best of all Lisa is coming home with me after church.
Carrie watched the cabin until it was out of sight among the tall pines as the wagon turned a bend in the road. She thought about the log cabin Papa and neighbors had built. Five years ago when they homesteaded here in Wisconsin. That's how it was, everyone helping each other to build before winter.
"Papa," she called. "Tell us again what the homestead claim means."
"Well, now," he replied with a broad smile partly hidden by his black mustache, "we got one hundred sixty acres from the government. Then we began clearing and planting it. Now, after five years of improving it, we have our deed of ownership." He looked at Mama and his shoulders straightened with pride. "The Herman Heidenworth farm."
There was a proud ring to his voice and Carrie knew he never tired of telling that story, just like she never tired of hearing it.
"We will have a fine dairy farm some day." Then he added softly, "No more making axe handles and buckets at the woodenware factory for me."
Carrie knew she should be proud and happy. They had accomplished so much in five years. The cabin, the shed, the barn. And the root cellar in the side of the hill behind the tool shed. But would she ever get over her fear of the deep woods? And the night sounds were scariest of all.
Fritz stood on his knees and looked back down the road. "Here he comes! Come on, Kleine!" He laughed and clapped his hands as the dog caught up with the wagon in a few long strides then trotted along just ahead of the team.
Kleine always escorted his family to church. The big wagon never left the farm without Kleine. He knew it was his job to be with his family.
At the church, the big collie would sit under the wagon keeping watch through the two hour service. When there were church dinners after services, Kleine waited eagerly for the food scraps that Fritz brought him. Then he stretched his full length and slept until the singing and activities were over. At last he could take his family back home along the banks of the Peshtigo river. Back to the farm three miles south of the village.
"Mama," called Carrie from the back of the wagon. "May Lisa and I swim in Blue Hole this afternoon?"
Mama thought a minute. "What do you think, Herman ?"
"Well, it's beastly hot," Papa replied, "And it is your birthday. You must observe the quiet of the Sabbath."
"Yes, Papa." She paused. "And please, Mama, may we have a picnic lunch?"
Mama nodded as she held her handkerchief over her mouth and nose. A bank of gray smoke drifted down over them.
"Me, too, I want a picnic too." Fritz jumped up.
"Sit down, son," Papa said firmly.
Carrie shook her head and frowned at Fritz, but before she could tell him he couldn't go, Mama said, "Of course you can go. It's your sister's birthday."
Why does he always have to come? Carrie thought. He's such a feigling. She bit her lip. Who was she to call anyone a coward? She was the biggest one of all. And she thought about his sickness. The doctor had even said he wouldn't live.
Smoke rolled thick and sour. Carrie covered her face with the hem of her dress.
Now the wagon bumped along by the new school. A boy was picking up lumber scraps from the yard. The new school looked so important. Carrie was proud she was a student there.
"That's Hans Heiss. And working on the Sabbath," she mumbled to herself. "Probably being punished for some stupid thing he did." She knew Hans didn't go to church - probably didn't even believe in God.
Much too tall for the gray homespun pants that ended just below his knees Hans loaded his arms with wood and dumped it in a pile at the edge of the road. His hair hung in his eyes. Tipping his head back to see, he called and waved. "Hi, Carrie!" But she turned away so she wouldn't have to look at him.
Miss Moore assigned Hans the biggest seat at the back of the room because he had to put his long legs out in the aisle. It seemed to Carrie they were always in the way when she had to go to the cloak room to get something for Miss Moore. And everyone knew Miss Moore also put him at the back because he was a trouble-maker. Or at least he would be, but Miss Moore could manage him even though he was 15 years old. She could discipline all forty students in the room. Yes. Everyone was afraid of Miss Moore.
Why would Hans call to me anyway? She clenched her fists. That awful bully! She would never forget the time he grabbed Lisa's lunch bucket and ate her bread-and-butter sandwich. Then he threw the bucket in the bushes. Lisa had tried not to cry, but her lip trembled. The other kids laughed. Even though Carrie was afraid of Hans towering over her she drew back her own bucket and whopped him on the back. He took off through the woods. No one was more surprised than Carrie.
When she got home and had to explain the dent in her bucket Mama reminded her she should settle problems by talking. She would never forget Mama's words, "Remember, Carrie, you have God on your side, and He expects you to be a peacemaker."
But her grandmother added, "Yes, try to work things out with words, but when that fails a lunch bucket will do just fine." Then she chuckled and turned back to her mending.
"Oma!" Even though Carrie worked hard at using English instead of her native German, she always called her grandmother by the German pet name for Grandma. Mama and Papa were strict about her using English. But sometimes she forgot, especially if she got excited.
The wagon bumped up on to the village bridge. Carrie clutched the sideboards. Oh, how the wagon shook her bones.
From the middle of the bridge she could see the whole village along both sides of the river. And six blocks ahead along the wooden side walk stood her new church still being built. The half-finished spire stood high above the trees in a halo of smoke.
She usually liked coming to the village. But this morning was different. The smoke! Thick and sour smelling. Over the houses, stores, the blacksmith shop, the saw mill and the woodenware factory. And the air was hotter, much hotter, than out on the homestead. Suddenly she didn't want to be here. Not at all. But, oh, she did want to see Lisa.
And Lisa is coming to the farm today - for my birthday!
Chapter Three: Fire!
At the church Carrie jumped down from the wagon and ran toward the door eager to find Lisa Zutter. But Mama called, "Caroline!"
Carrie stopped. How could she have forgotten again? No running on the Sabbath. "I'm sorry, Mama."
Mama sighed. "Now smooth your hair and try to act like a lady."
The last thing Carrie wanted to do was to act like a lady, but she tucked strands of her sun-bleached hair behind her ears and ran her fingers down her part. It was straight - well, sort of straight. She combed her shoulder length hair with her fingers. "Who cares in this heat?" she thought.
In the church the air was cooler and almost free of smoke. Carrie loved the smell of new wood.
"Still no pews," Mama said, looking around at the empty church.
Papa nodded. "Ja! Zutter will be plastering in a week or so," he replied in German.
Carrie knew Papa was excited when he spoke only German. Usually it was a scramble of English and German together. And sometimes that could sound very funny.
"And after the plastering," Papa continued, "the men of the church will put the pews in. Ja, our new church building will soon be finished. And a fine one, too."
Carrie sat next to Mama on a rough plank placed across two big logs. Soon the room was almost full of worshippers. Carrie knew some, but many were new in town. Peshtigo was growing very fast. Men were coming to work in the giant woodenware factory where Papa was employed.
Mr. and Mrs. Zahn and their new baby sat in front of the Heidenworth family. Carrie remembered with pride the crazy quilt she and Oma made last year for the raffle to raise money for the new church. Oh, the look on Frieda Zahn's face when she won that pretty quilt. The hodge-podge pieces zig-zagged every which way creating their own design. But Carrie still loved the old one on her bed in the loft at home best.
Father Pernin entered through a side door near the pulpit. The legs of his coarse trousers and the collar of a shabby shirt were all that could be seen of his clothing. The rest of the priest was covered by his black robe. Carrie wondered why he wasn't wearing his black suit under his robe as he always did. She was glad he wore a robe for services. Without it he didn't look much like a priest.
"Good morning." He greeted his congregation in his heavy French accent.
When he arrived in Peshtigo last year Papa had grumbled about having a French priest for the congregation. But Mama had scolded him. "Now Herman Heidenworth. What if the church forbade Germans here? Where would we be?"
Carrie thought she could twist around just enough to look for Lisa, but with the first wiggle Mama's eyes were on her. So she stared at an interesting knot hole in the floor. It looked like a hawk's eye. She shivered. She didn't like the hawks that perched in the trees over the chicken pen waiting to catch some of Mama's young chicks.
Carrie glanced over at her mother in her soft blue silk dress. In the trunk at the foot of Mama and Papa's bed she had two more elegant dresses adorned with lace and ribbons. Mama looked so fine in them. She and Papa brought them from Stuttgart in Germany, where she grew up in Grandfather Werner and Oma's pretty little house. Now that house was only a picture above the fireplace in the cabin.
Carrie sighed. "Oh, Grandfather, you went to heaven while we were still in Germany and now Oma has gone there, too. I miss you."
Suddenly the sawmill whistle began to shriek. The sound echoed throughout the village. People around Carrie turned to peer out the windows. Some stood and looked out the door.
"Ach! What's wrong?" Carrie whispered to Mama.
Before her mother could reply a mill worker came striding down the aisle, his boots clumping on the new floor.
"Fire! Fire!"
Carrie clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
"Sorry, Father Pernin!" The man ran his fingers through his carrot orange hair and looked around at the men. "Fires are breaking out in the underbrush across the river. We need more help."
[First chapters from CARRIE AND THE CRAZY QUILT, by Nelda Johnson Liebig, (Midwest Traditions, 1996), © Nelda Johnson Liebig, is used with permission. Further reproduction is prohibited without the written permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Philip Martin, Blue Horse Books, at info@bluehorsebooks.org.]