They came from Norway to begin a new life. Jensyn Larson liked the way Bryne said Minnesota. It sounded musical to his ears. Their land spread out wide before them. Predominantly prairie, a small creek ran through a plum thicket along the north border. Jensyn built a sod house on the rise and planned to farm corn and wheat.

The Larsons were young and newly married. They traveled a great distance to begin their new life. Norway seemed long ago and far away to seventeen-year-old Bryne. She missed her family, her father and mother, and younger sister, Ingrid. A long time would pass before she saw them again.

Mama didn't want Bryne to leave home. She thought her daughter was too young. It took a lot of persuading, but the young couple finally left Norway for America. They traveled to New York, then by train to the frontier. Jensyn purchased a covered wagon and a pair of horses before they crossed the Mississippi into Minnesota.

The flat land looked different from the Norwegian fjords. Bryne shaded her eyes and gazed into the far distance. She had never seen land as flat as Minnesota's. Besides the small creek, there was no water in sight. Until Jensyn dug a well, they hauled water from the creek for cooking and washing.

"It is different, ja?" Jensyn asked, encircling Bryne's slim waist. He pulled her close as they surveyed the land together.

"Different, ja," Bryne agreed. She leaned her head against her husband's shoulder.

"We will make our family here. We will farm the land and become part of the community, ja?" Jensyn looked forward to his new life. To him, it was an adventure.

"Ja."

Bryne lifted the bucket and walked through the prairie grass toward the plum thicket. She squatted by the creek and played her hand in the clear water. It was a hot day, but the thicket provided shade. Taking off her shoes, she placed them on a rock and waded. The water was cool and refreshing. As she walked, the creek widened. It meandered through the thicket and eventually opened into a small lake. She wondered if the lake was their property, also. She would ask Jensyn when she returned to the sod house.

"Hello," a voice called while Bryne stood at the lake's edge.

Bryne turned to smile at the newcomer. A tall, blonde youth strolled toward her. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms. He stood beside her.

"Are you from the Swanson property? We heard someone just bought it," the boy asked.

"Ja. Yes," Bryne stated, remembering to speak in English.

"I'm Sven Jorgensen," her companion stated. "I live yonder." He indicated the direction with a nod.

"Bryne Larson," she introduced herself. "My husband and I purchased the Swanson property."

"We came here three years ago," Sven continued warmly. "There's Papa, Mama, me—I'm the oldest—Lars and Tyra. We go to school in town. You have children, ja?"

"No, not yet." Bryne smiled, contemplating her future family. "Soon, maybe."

Sven nodded knowingly. He repeated, "Soon, maybe," and chuckled.

"Jensyn and I will visit your Papa and Mama soon." Bryne kept her welcoming smile. "It is comforting to have close neighbors."

"Ja," Sven agreed.

When Bryne returned along the creek, she found Jensyn waiting for her. At first, she didn't see him. He leaned against a tree in the shadows. When he moved slightly, she noticed him and rushed forward.

"I've met a neighbor," she exclaimed, falling into his welcoming arms. "He seems nice."

"You must have met one of the Jorgensen's," Jensyn stated. "They are good people, ja?"

"Ja." Bryne picked up the bucket and began plucking plums. She dropped them into the bucket one by one. Jensyn picked one and bit into it. Juice dribbled down his chin. A mosquito buzzed in her ear, and she swatted at it. "Ouch." It bit her.

Mosquitoes swarmed out of the plum trees. Bryne swatted them, but they came at her in droves. Jensyn and Bryne hollered and jumped around, trying to avoid them. Finally, grabbing their bucket, they ran from the thicket and collapsed on the prairie.

"Are you all right?" Jensyn asked. He propped his hands behind his head and stared into the clear blue sky.

"Ja. It was just a few mosquito bites, nothing much." Bryne replied, following her husband's gaze. "I'll live."

Bryne carried the bucket to the creek the following morning. She went to get water to do the washing. All morning, she scrubbed their clothes and pegged them to the line. Afterward, she prepared the plums for a tart and made the crust. When the clothes were dry, she went out to bring them in.

The sun beat down, seeming more intense than usual. Sweat beaded on Bryne's forward and dripped into her eyes. She wiped it away and looked skyward. The clouds appeared hazy, and the sun a deeper yellow. It pulsed, and Bryne blinked to clear her vision. She pulled a peg and dropped it into her wash basket. Jensyn's shirt's arm tangled around her arm. Struggling, she tripped over the basket and sprawled on the ground.

The sun continued to beat down. Bryne tried to rise. She pushed up on her arms and got to her knees. Slowly, she put her foot to the ground and lifted herself up. Her other leg felt numb, but she struggled to put weight on it. Then, her world went blank. Bryne collapsed onto her face.

When she awoke, she found herself in the sod house. It felt cool inside, but sweat beaded down her face and ran over her lips. A woman leaned over her, pressing a wet cloth against her forehead.

"Who are you?" Bryne asked, her voice vague and far away. She could barely form the words.

"Inga Jorgensen," her neighbor stated, smiling. "Sven happened to find you by the clothesline. He brought you inside and fetched me to come and tend you. Do you know where your husband is?"

"Husband?" Bryne muttered, concentrating. "Town. Plow broke. He went to buy a new piece to fix." The one-room shod house came into focus momentarily and then became fuzzy again.

"Lie still, ja?" Inga instructed, dipping the cloth into the water bucket. Wringing it out, she placed it on Bryne's forehead. "You have malaria, little one. I see you were picking plums. The mosquitos got you, but good, ja?"

"Ja," Bryne murmured.

"Lucky Sven found you on time. You could have baked like your tart outside in that sun," Inga stated, clucking her tongue.

Bryne's eyes focused on the corner where Sven stood in the shadows. He gazed at her anxiously. Jensyn stepped inside, blocking the light from the open door. He hesitated, taking in the crowded room. When he noticed his wife on the bed, he fell to his knees beside her and grasped her hand.

"It's malaria," Inga Jorgensen stated, laying her hand on Jensyn's shoulder. "I had hoped we would meet during friendlier circumstances. I'm Inga Jorgensen, your nearest neighbor."

"Jensyn Larson," he introduced himself quickly and turned back to his wife.

"I can send my boy for the doctor, if you wish," Inga suggested, wringing out the washcloth again. "She could use some quinine."

"Ja." Jensyn agreed; his focus remained on Bryne.

Sven raced through the door without instructions. He returned a quarter hour later with Doc Murphy. The doctor, a white-haired man in his mid-fifties, examined Bryne and gave her a dose of quinine.

"Continue giving her the prescribed dosage," the doctor told Jensyn, "and she'll recover in no time. In the meantime, stay out of that plum thicket until those mosquitos clear out. Understand?"

"Ja."

Jensyn took the doctor's instructions seriously. He remained by Bryne's side throughout her illness and dug a well close to the sod house. They wouldn't have to haul water so far any longer. Bryne began to feel better but remained in bed, regaining her strength. Finally, she felt well enough to get up and do her chores again. Jensyn had a slight bout of malaria but recovered quickly.

Bryne packed a picnic lunch on a Sunday afternoon, and they walked to the lake. The day was warm and sunny, and the water was cool and refreshing. The couple nibbled on their sandwiches and relaxed in the prairie grass. Bryne waded near the lake's edge, but Jensyn dove in. Bryne waded in further until the water reached her waist. When she looked toward the shore, she saw Inga spreading a blanket.

Sven dove in and swam toward Jensyn. A younger boy joined them, and a girl rushed toward Bryne. She smiled and greeted her.

"I'm Tyra," the pre-teen stated as she approached. "You're Bryne. Sven never stops talking about you."

"I'm pleased to meet you." Bryne widened her smile.

"Mama says you are going to have a baby," Tyra announced confidently.

"Oh, well, perhaps someday." Bryne brushed off the comment. "Once settled, we will think about having a family."

"Mama says you will have a baby soon," the girl remarked, nodding. "Mama's never wrong about babies."

Bryne wrinkled her brow and chewed on her lower lip. She had missed her time but thought malaria had caused it. Tyra's announcement made her unsure. Slowly, she made her way toward the shore.

Inga Jorgensen sat on the blanket beside her husband. She introduced him as Hans and invited Bryne to sit with them. She hesitated and then sat next to her new friend. They looked toward the lake where Jensyn, Sven, and Lars played "Catch Me If You Can." Tyra came to join them.

"Children are delightful," Inga stated, smiling calmly. "They will fulfill your life and make you happy."

"Yes." Bryne hesitated. She wanted to ask why Inga thought she was pregnant but couldn't form the words. She cast her eyes back toward Jensyn.

"I noticed while you were ill," Inga stated, taking her hand. "I'm a midwife, you see. I saw the signs. I'm very pleased for you."

"Oh, I see." Bryne still seemed far away. "We intended to wait until we settled. It's all so new to us. We're not here very long."

"These things happen when they do, my dear." Inga smiled. "You're young and healthy and will make an excellent mother."

"I want to have children. Jensyn and I speak about it often." Bryne thought a little more. She liked the idea of having a baby. She thought of a little girl like her or a boy to help Jensyn on the farm. Suddenly, she felt contented. Yes, she wanted a baby.

A huge grin spread across Jensyn's face when she told him. He lifted her and swung her around. Her feet left the ground, and she felt like she was dancing. Jensyn kissed lips while the Jorgensens watched. His expression changed, and he put his wife down gently.

"You'll have to take it easy," he declared, stepping back.

"I'm sure I won't break," Bryne laughed.

"She won't break," Inga assured them.

"Ja, that's right," Hans stated. "I never noticed Inga break, and she's had three."

Bryne sat on the blanket beside Inga. Tyra sat with them, and they talked about babies. Inga assured her she would assist with the birth. Luckily, she lived close enough to come quickly when needed.

Bryne sighed. Minnesota—a place for a new beginning and new friends.

!!!COMING SOON!!!

OREGON