Papa paced the hardwood floor in the brightly lit kitchen. Sundown was over an hour ago and Kirsten still was not home. A mix of worry that something had happened and anger that she may still be at Svein's, consumed him. Why had she let his daughter go to the house of an unmarried man? He trusted her, and he thought he could trust Svein . . . however . . . no, he pushed that thought out of his head.
Standing in the doorway, Peter watched his father's torment. "Papa?" He interrupted his father's pacing, meekly asked, "Should we go look for her?"
Mr. Larson did not say a word, but went to grab his jacket and a lantern off the peg. Peter looked at Mama, sitting pale-faced at the head of the table with her hands folded; she closed her eyes and nodded at him to follow his father.
Winter nights on the prairie are dangerous. Deep snow and lack of reference points can cause an unprepared traveller to get lost easily.
Lifting the lantern high over his head, Mr. Larson called Kirsten's name as loud as he could and then waited a moment for an answer before moving on.
"Why don't we go to Svein's first to start? He can tell us when Kirsten left." Peter suggested.
"Ja," Papa muttered absentmindedly and broke off in grand strides towards the schoolhouse, calling Kirsten's name along the way.
Through the black night they could see the warm blaze through the windows in Svein's cabin. Making their way towards the house, Papa angrily called both Kirsten and Svein's names. He stormed towards the house, his face growing hot with rage.
Sitting silently next to Svein's side, except for the few falters in her chest as she tried to hold back her tears, Kirsten sat as still as a statue. Her quiet vigil was broken by the sound of her name being called through the night. Kirsten left the sick bed to open the door to find her father and brother approaching the house. Upon seeing his daughter's silhouette in the doorway, Papa began to yell, but stopped short when he became close enough to see her red, tear-stained face in the moonlight.
"Kirsten?" his tone soften in concern, "what is wrong my child?"
Kirsten could not manage to answer him but led him into the house and pointed to Svein lying on the floor next to the fire.
Pulling off his mittens, Papa fell to his knees and began to examine the boy.
"What happened?" Peter asked solemnly as he entered the cabin.
"I found him lying outside, about twenty feet from the house." She said in a hoarse voice and Peter put his arm around her in comfort.
"He must have lost his way between the barn and the house during yesterday morning's storm." Papa shook his head, "it is a miracle he is still alive." Papa continued to check Svein's fingertips and toes to check for discoloration.
"I have been warming blankets and wrapping him in them to raise his body temperature." Kirsten said softly, kneeling down next to her father.
Papa smiled a sad smile at her and placed his hand on her shoulder, "You have done well my child. I am sorry."
Kirsten took Svein's cold, limp hand in hers and her eyes focused on the slow rising of his chest. Her eyes welled with tears, "Please save him Papa," she whispered.