From Mourning to Joy

by Marlene Bierworth

  Bernie slept like a log and when the sun peeked through the cracks, he jumped to his feet. He dressed and completed the chores in record time, then headed to the cabin for breakfast. Flat cakes again – not his favorite but with her jam preserves smeared over the top, it made them edible. Back in the barn he brought Blaze out into the open where he’d left the newly improved wagon. Blaze whinnied loud at the sight of it and Bernie laughed.

  “Didn’t say it was a stately carriage. Said it was all we had at our disposal, so get rid of the attitude, Blaze ol’ boy.”

  Bernie hooked the horse to the wagon and walked with Blaze the short distance to the cabin. Janelle appeared at the door and stood watching their arrival in silence. She called in the house behind her to Davey and soon the boy appeared wearing his winter clothes.

  He walked to the porch and offered his hand. “Your carriage awaits, my dear.” She smiled at his foolery but he noticed a tear glistened behind her eye as he helped her onto the front bench. “Was traveling with the wagon train hard?” Bernie asked.

  “Hardest thing was to stop the vision from fading into the harshness of the land. Braving the ever-changing weather, the trails that at times were nothing but a grassy crossing or rutted mud holes, crossing rivers that scared me half to death, people whose greed made them insufferable, and there was always the threat of Indian attacks looming over us. Probably everyone wondered at times if the trip was worth it.”

  “And losing your husband so soon after your dream found feet; do you still figure the journey was worth it?”

  “My husband once said that life was all about the journey. But I do regret my part in encouraging Jacob to leave the city. He probably belonged there, but I was too young and selfish to see that he’d given up his passion to see me live mine. It’s a heavy guilt I’m forced to live with.”

  Bernie rested his hand on hers. “Best pull those mats over your legs. Frosty day for a ride to town.” He looked toward the house and called to the boy again. “Are you coming laddie? This wagon is pulling out.”

  Davey came running from the cabin and crawled in the back. “Had to go to my room and find this. I wanna show it to Mr. Stewart. He said if I whittled a good whistle, he’d pay me and put it for sale in the store. How much do you think its worth, Mr. B?” he asked as he handed the small piece to Bernie.

  “Well, I’m not rightly sure. Never bought me a whistle before. Always screeched the noise from two blades of grass.” When the boy’s face drooped, he quickly added, “of course, there’s no grass in the winter so a store-bought whistle might be just what a fella needs.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Davey took his prize as Bernie released the brake.

  “Everyone ready?” Bernie asked.

  Janelle glanced back at her son. “Davey, wiggle into the heap of straw back there and wrap in the blanket.”

  The sun shone bright for their trip to Belle. The brilliance always cheered Bernie and lifted his spirits. By the look in Janelle’s eyes he figured it did the same for her. Trees reached to the sky, as if even dead limbs sensed the life-giver in the sky and stretched to catch the coveted rays.

  They covered the few miles to town quickly. Blaze appeared eager to get his passengers to their destination and Bernie rewarded him with an apple when he tied the lines to the hitching post. Together the three walked into the general store.

  Davey raced to the counter. “Morning, Mrs. Stewart. Is the mister around? Got a whistle to show him.”

  Olivia smiled, reached into the candy jar and passed Davey a treat. “He’s in the back room.” The boy darted away.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, Janelle. I see our cowboy found your farm all right.”

  “Yes, thank you for sending him my way. He’s already dressed a deer, caught fish, and repaired the wagon that Jacob figured was kindling for the fire.”

  Olivia looked at Bernie. “An answer to our prayers. With so many menfolk stuck in town or on their own farms in the dead of the winter, Henry and I worried about you.”

  Janelle glanced at Bernie and smiled. He coughed not liking to be the center of attention, and said, “If you’ve got things covered here, Ma’am, I’ve got business elsewhere. Be back shortly.” He turned away and disappeared into the back room where Henry was closely inspecting Davey’s whistle.

  “What’ll ya give me for it, sir? I want to buy Ma a birthday present.”

  Bernie caught the man’s attention and held up five fingers. No use giving the boy a sense of false hope in case he decided to make a slew of them and hold Henry Stewart to the original bargaining price.

  “How about three pennies?” said Henry, cutting it down even further.

  “Three!” said Davey. “What can I buy Ma for three pennies?”

  “Well, this is a business transaction boy, and I need to make a profit. I’ll charge my customer five and both of us will make a bit.”

  “Suppose,” the boy muttered kicking a nearby crate with the toe of his boot.

  “I’ll bet Mrs. Stewart could help you pick out a nice piece of lace for your Ma to put on a new dress,” suggested Bernie.

  “She doesn’t have a new dress.”

  “Not yet, but if you drop a hint in the store keepers ear to watch for the material that sets your Ma’s heart racing, you tell her to cut a piece on the side and wrap it up for me. That is if I’m invited to the birthday party?” asked Bernie.

  “A new dress and lace – Ma will cry straight on ‘til spring comes.”

  “Then we best not do it. We want her to be happy, right?” said Bernie.

  “I was joshing you, Mr. B. They’d be happy tears. Ma’s so skinny most dresses she brought plumb near fall off her.”

  “We can’t have that. You run along now and whisper in Mrs. Stewart’s ear. Don’t let your Ma hear.”

  The boy raced back into the store and Bernie turned to Henry. “Thanks for sending me out to the farm. Makes a man feel good to help a family back on their feet.”

  “Janelle is a handsome woman. You getting any settlin’ feelings?”

  “The woman still grieves for her husband.”

  “Women need to compromise out here in the west. Love isn’t always the tie that binds.”

  “Afraid that’s all this cowboy is settling for. But I do need some supplies, and I want it to stay hush-hush from the family. It’s a surprise.”

  “Sure, fire away.”

  A half hour later, Bernie went to the saloon to wet his parched throat. He’d just ordered a whiskey when a man parked himself on the stool next to him.

  “Howdy, stranger,” he drawled and Bernie recognized the accent as a fellow Texan.

  “Howdy, yourself.” After a few minutes of his staring, Bernie grew uncomfortable with the careful scrutiny that the man took of him. “Care for a drink, mister?”

  “That’s right neighborly of ya,” he finally said. The flash of mischief played in his eyes and Bernie wished he’d never come into the place. The urge for liquor had deserted him these past days and he felt better for it. Deciding to be friendly, Bernie nodded to the barkeep. “Give this man a drink on me.” He threw down a coin, tipped his hat and turned to leave.

  “I didn’t say anything to run you off, did I? What’s the hurry, mister?”

  “Errands to run. You have a good day now,” Bernie said hoping to escape the room without further delay.

  “Seems you’ve been taking care of my merchandise out there at the Rimes farm. Wanted to thank you for that. The Mrs. is waiting for me to come claim her in the spring when some of that sass rubs off.” Bernie turned slowly to face the man. “Maybe she mentioned me. Sam Spalding’s the name, and womanizing is my game.”

  “Plenty of women here who’d welcome such attention. I’d stick to town if I were you,” said Bernie.

  “Are you threatening me?” The man eased away from the bar and stood in the gunslinger stance that Bernie had managed to avoid all these years of drifting.

  “I’m not fighting you, m
ister. I work for the lady and she can make up her own mind concerning you in the spring when you come calling.”

  “Now that’s right neighborly of ya. Don’t the little gal get you excited any?”

  “She’s not my little gal – or yours for that matter. I’d keep my pants tied up and move on to more willing prospects.”

  “No challenge in that, cowboy.”

  Bernie faced the door, hoping to make a clean break this time. A sarcastic voice spoke from behind.

  “This ain’t over by a long shot. You keep a watch for old Sam coming to collect his merchandise.”

  Chapter 7

  Outside, Bernie scanned the storefronts and sighted the jailhouse. He crossed the road and went inside.

  “Morning – Mr. Drysdale, isn’t it?”

  “I’m at a disadvantage. Have we met?”

  “I make it a practice to know who passes through town. The name’s Deputy Will, and Henry at the store told me he sent you out to help Mrs. Rimes. Was going pay a visit soon, make sure everything was all right.”

  “She hired me. Lots of work to do around the place to prepare for spring planting.”

  “We both know she’s as poor as a church mouse.”

  “Food and a bed in the barn are worthy trades for surviving February in Wyoming.”

  “Suppose you’re right,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “There is a man, goes by the name of Sam Spalding. I understand he’s hired on at the Silver Aspen Ranch but seems to be in town when he should be working. The man has threatened Mrs. Rimes on a prior occasion and has now reminded me that he’ll be returning to the farm to claim his property – namely her. What gives this man the gall to talk like that about a widow woman, and what are you going to do about it?”

  “Been called to settle arguments that the man creates every time he comes to town. Didn’t know about him visiting at the farm. You staying out there long?”

  “Until spring for sure. No plans after that. She figures to make a living from her piece of land.”

  “Without a man?”

  “Appears so.”

  Deputy Will chuckled. “Won’t last long. She’s a frail thing. She’ll hightail it and run when the going gets rough.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” said Bernie. “So, what about her problem with that Sam character?”

  “I’ll keep a closer eye on his comings and goings. Until he makes a move, my hands are tied.”

  Bernie sighed. “Well, I appreciate you writing him up and keeping an eye to his activity. If he shows up at the farm, I may have to defend the lady.”

  “That’d be fine with me too. One less troublemaker to worry about.”

  Bernie nodded his head, “Good day to you, deputy,” and left the building.

  He caught up with Janelle and Davey at the general store. She hurried over to greet him.

  “Bernie, I dropped over to Belles Café and Joseph said that their part time waitress was in the family way and would appreciate a few months home. I’ll come every school day with Davey and work the breakfast and through lunch. I’m off at two but I can wait until the school bell rings at three.” She took a deep breath. “Isn’t it perfect? By spring I’ll have enough to pay off my store loan, buy a work horse and seed for the ground. And now you won’t have to hand out all your hard-earned savings on a family you barely know.”

  Yesterday the idea had sounded better, but in light of his recent run in with Sam, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “Are you sure, Janelle? I don’t mind helping folks, especially those helping me. Seems we’re both getting a fair shake with the arrangements out on the farm.”

  She backed off and her face clouded. “I thought you liked the idea of my working?”

  “Just because I know how independent you are. No harm in that.” Bernie regrouped his thoughts. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll bring you and Davey in every morning and come pick you up at three.”

  “That’s a nuisance,” said Janelle. “I was going to go and talk to Patrick at the livery about weekly payments on a good horse.”

  Bernie squirmed. How could he object any further without telling her that Sam was still a threat? Honesty – isn’t that what they’d decided on? He sucked in a deep breath and blurted it out. “Ran into an old admirer of yours at the saloon. Seems the man is still smitten with the widow Rimes and plans on laying claim to his property.”

  “I’ve no admirers,” Janelle began to dismiss his concerns when the identity of the culprit finally sunk in. She placed a hand to her throat and with more disgust than he ever heard from her lips, she said. “Sam Spalding thinks he owns me?”

  “His words. The bloke is rather peeved that you let me stay out at the farm and ran him off at the end of your gun.”

  “But you’re a gentleman and he’s a scoundrel – an offense to a respectable woman.”

  Henry lingered within earshot and Bernie spoke to him. “What do you think? Is this Sam fella all talk?”

  “Heard reports about his carryings on when he comes to town. Ranching doesn’t keep him busy enough in the winter, or he’s just plain lazy. I lean toward the second option.”

  “Just concerned about Janelle and Davey traveling back and forth to town every day,” said Bernie.

  “I see your point.” Henry looked at Janelle. “Maybe you should take your hired man up on his idea of an escort – for now anyway.”

  “How will I survive alone if I don’t take a stand now? Bernie won’t be here forever to bail me out.” She squared her shoulders and that independent stance Bernie knew all too well replaced the fear. “I’ll not be bullied by the likes of that man. I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “Spoke to a Deputy Will over at the jailhouse. He’ll be watching out too.”

  Janelle gazed at him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I want your boy to grow up with a Ma in her right mind standing by his side, not some defeated piece of property another man owns.”

  “We’re of no concern to you, Bernie Drysdale. You will drift away and forget us before you hit the next state.”

  “You know nothing about drifters and why they roam the land so don’t get all righteous on me.” He tried to bite off his anger but the woman goaded him.

  “Enlighten us,” she challenged.

  “If it was any of your business, I’d do just that, but seems you’re just as stubborn as my old lady and destined to follow in her footsteps.”

  He grabbed a box of groceries and marched to the door. Henry followed with the birthday package tucked under his arm.

  “She’s a fiery one that gal,” said Henry as he passed the paper wrapped gift to Bernie.

  “Stupid and naïve is more like it.” He buried the package under the straw in the back of the wagon. At least Davey got his birthday wish. He reached into his pocket and passed Henry five pennies. “Almost forgot. This is for the boy’s whistle.”

  “I might sell the thing,” argued Henry.

  “I doubt it, but I will be giving the boy some lessons in whittling and maybe someone will be interested in buying the next one he brings in.”

  “Fair enough. You’re a good man, Bernie. Yer taking a shine to the little widow, aren’t ya?”

  “You heard her. I’ll be gone in the spring. The woman is determined to farm the land, raise her boy, and run her house at the same time. Mighty determined to put all the women hereabouts to shame.”

  “Don’t sound like a compliment the way you spout it off,” said Henry.

  “Wasn’t meant to be. Even a small farm is too much for one speck of a gal as you so kindly labeled her.” He slammed the crate against the sidewall of the wagon. “Need to load the wagon and get back to work.”

  “Davey told me you shot a buck clean through his heart.”

  “Yeah. Did you know the woman had nothing in her cache? She can’t gut an animal or take fish off the hook. She’d like to think she’s tough but don’t you believe it. They’d have never survi
ved the winter alone.”

  “I’ll send Livvy out for a visit real soon. Maybe she can talk some sense into her.”

  Bernie slammed his fist on the floor of the wagon. “Not on a school day. Appears your friend is going to be a working girl.” He shuffled around Henry and headed for the door.

  Bernie only half listened as Davey chatted non-stop during the ride home. Blaze was sure footed and kept the loaded wagon on the straight path. At home, he pulled on the brake at the front door of the cabin, unloaded the wagon, piling the boxes on the kitchen table, and leaving behind two disheartened faces. He slapped the lines on Blaze’s back and continued to the barn with the wagon.

  He unloaded his few purchases; some nails and a good ax. The one they used to chip ice from the river had gouges out of it and was as dull as a hoe. Bernie grabbed his new ax and headed for the woods. He found a few small but straight cedars and took the rest of his frustrations out on the trees. Before long, they lay on the ground. He measured approximately five feet and cut one, then used it to make the others the same height. They’d be the posts for the new pigpen on one side of the new building and a chicken coop for the fowls on the other. Both would enjoy separate fenced in yards to breathe in the summer air.

  Summer! He’d be long gone from Wyoming – the winter a distant memory. He dropped onto a stump, threw off his hat, and ran fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. The thought of leaving hurt worse every day. He was growing fond of the family, especially the headstrong wisp of girl who thought she could tackle the world on her own. Wrapped in his own thoughts, Bernie never heard the footsteps approach. He looked up and Janelle stood within three feet, studying him.

  He stood to his feet. “What do you want?”

  “It appears we are at a difference of opinion again. I’d like to, how did you say, speak my mind.”