From Mourning to Joy

by Marlene Bierworth

  “Not interested in hurting folks. Too much pain in this world as it is,” said Bernie.

  “Good then; long as we’re in agreement, you should do fine. She’s just a speck of a gal; not cut out for running a farm, but stubborn as a mule. Probably the spring will find her moving to town, after she’s made peace with leaving her dreams behind.” Henry moved back to his ledger and started to enter some numbers.

  Bernie rode out of town. Belle seemed a nice place to wait out the winter. If Janelle Rimes did not welcome him, he’d move on, but recommend she move to town where folks cared about her. He looked at the threatening sky. The storm continued to hover in the distance but Bernie felt the wind bite against his face as he rode the three miles to the farm. Those gusts would surely blow the dark clouds this way before the day was out. Being used to Texas, Wyoming winters seemed unfit for man or beast, let alone – how did the storekeepers describe the widow – a speck of a gal.

  Chapter 2

  The chill in the air kept him moving at a quick pace. The small farm was a mere fifteen-minute ride out of Belle. Surely someone could find the time to check on the family. It wasn’t far. People got busy, he supposed, and no one enjoyed even a short ride in cold weather. He kicked his horse to a gallop and closed the distance quickly. When he rounded the final corner and his eyes fell on the Rimes cabin, his heart sunk. This did not look like a potential answer to his dilemma. Henry had been gracious in his comments about the place. Shabby to say the least, and evidence the owner couldn’t afford to fix it up.

  The majestic backdrop of frosty, winter-white mountains stole his breath, and he could hear the faint trickle of the nearby river. Bernie understood why a man would settle his family on this land. A sudden homesickness rippled through his senses for the first time in years. It appeared no matter how bad the state of one’s existence, the image of home – even if it was a delusion – always held a special place in the heart.

  Upon further scrutiny, Bernie noticed that no smoke billowed from the chimney. He glanced toward the barn, and leaning against the outside wall was a full line-up of firewood, so fuel wasn’t the problem. Maybe she’d pulled out with the boy and didn’t tell anyone in town. He brightened at that prospect. Her loss would be his gain, for an abandoned cabin was free for the using and would provide him a warm shelter for the rest of the winter. With new hope pushing him forward, he nudged his horse and sped down the gradual slope toward the building.

  He drew closer and abruptly reined in his horse at the sight of a brown-haired lad peeking out from the open crack in the front door. The boy barely stood the height of the doorknob and his round eyes showed hope at first then fear when it registered a stranger approaching. The door slammed shut, and as Bernie dismounted, he heard the latch pull across the casing. He’d been locked out before being given an opportunity to plead his cause. Hopefully, the woman would be more receptive.

  Bernie’s foot gave way on the second step and hit the ground below with a thud. He cussed under his breath while yanking it out from between the wood splinters. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that youngster had set a trap for unwanted visitors. He returned to his horse limping and untied his peace offering. Maybe that might get him inside.

  “Boy, I notice you don’t have a fire burning. Aren’t you cold?” Bernie thought he heard a slight sob then a hiccup following. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve got food and I can get a fire started. Why don’t you let me in?” When no one answered, Bernie tried a different route. “Mr. and Mrs. Stewart from the general store in Belle sent me here, to make sure you were all right.”

  That did it. The latch slid back slowly and the door opened a crack again. “You know Mrs. Stewart?”

  “She sent me here to check up on you and your Ma.”

  “Ma’s sick.”

  That explained her absence at the door. Bernie swung the bag closer so the child could see it. “Got a stick of candy in here for you.”

  “Tummy’s too sore for anything sweet.”

  “You got your Ma’s sickness?”

  “No sir. But I did eat my entire birthday cake all by myself when the stew got ruined.”

  “You cooked a stew – on a cold stove?”

  “No, but Ma did a couple days back and belched in it. The cake saved me from being hungry enough to eat it.”

  “Thank goodness. Throw it out and let me rustle you up something. I’m a fair cook, probably not as good as your Ma, but it’ll be better than two-day-old stew.” Bernie avoided expanding on the state of the stew after the belching.

  The door opened wider. “Suppose I’d be grateful for help to get Ma into her bed. I’ve been lying on the floor snuggled up to her trying to keep warm. She’s powerful hot so we ain’t froze yet.”

  Bernie pushed past the boy, and once inside his eyes rested on the motionless bump under the blankets by the fireplace. He rushed over and pulled the blanket from her face. She was just a kid herself. Her bright red face puffed around dark sunken eyes. No need to feel her forehead to diagnose fever; for the heat of it streamed out, pouring over him like a hot spring.

  “Where’s your Ma’s room?” he asked the boy who stood overhead watching his every move.

  “Over there.” He pointed to a small door on the other side of the kitchen.

  “Go pull the blankets back and I’ll carry her in.”

  “Got all the blankets out here, mister.”

  “Lead the way, then.”

  Bernie threw the covers aside, bent low and reached under her slim figure. She was as light as a feather and her head flopped against his shoulder. She didn’t stir. That was not a good sign. But he could see her chest expand with every ragged breath, so she was still alive. A double bed awaited her, with four posts and a base two feet off the floor that held the lumpy mattress in place. Someone had carved fine lines into the headboard. Bernie observed it was the only piece of furniture with any value. Her dresses hung from hooks on the far wall and a two-drawer dresser, slanted from a lopsided leg, teetered and propped against the wall for support. It must have held the rest of what she owned for nothing else but a small bedside table occupied the room.

  Everything he knew about sickness told him the woman needed to be stripped down, but that was carrying hospitality too far for day one. He looked at the boy. Didn’t seem proper to ask her son to do such a deed. He’d leave it for now, till he got a few other things put to order.

  “Bring in your Ma’s pillow and blankets then cover her up. I’m going to get some wood to start a fire.”

  Obediently, the boy jumped at the chance to do something. Bernie could see the fear in his eyes when he looked at his mother. Bernie tried to reassure him.

  “Don’t worry. You and me, we’ll work around the clock until your Ma gets better, all right?”

  He nodded and offered a tiny smile. It never reached his eyes and Bernie thought he’d never seen such sadness in a youngster’s face.

  “My name is Bernie. What’s yours?”

  “Davey.”

  “Well, then, we’re off to a great start. Tend to the blankets, now. I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, Bernie grabbed an armload of wood piled against the barn. Glancing to the northern sky he wished he had time to bring Blaze inside. His faithful mare had been his best friend on the lonely trail while the two traveled north together. She deserved his attention now, but unfortunately the animal would have to wait.

  Not one red ember remained in the cookstove. He scooped the cold residue into the ash pail, positioned the kindling, and ignited a spark. Within minutes he felt the cold black surface warming up. Lifting the handle of the reservoir, he noticed the tank dry and looked for the water bucket.

  The boy appeared to know what he required and pointed to the floor by the counter. “I can get water if you want, sir.”

  “Those muscles of yours strong enough to bring in a full pail of water?” Bernie said trying to bring a touch of relief to the boys’ uneasy expression.

  �
�Takes me a few trips but I get it done.”

  “We’re going to need a lot of trips,” Bernie said. “Off you go then and get started.”

  The boy wiggled into his coat then pulled on mitts and high boots before hurrying out the door in the direction of the well. He seemed to enjoy feeling useful and Bernie had a long list to get this place up and running.

  The little water remaining in the pail went into a small washbasin. The woman wouldn’t notice the extra chill and it might help break the fever. On a shelf, he found clean dry cloths. Arms loaded, he hastened to the woman’s room. He placed the dish on the bedside table and saturated the cloth, wrung it out and folded it. He leaned over and bathed her face, neck and head. Once he thought he saw a flicker of movement, but he probably imagined it. He pushed the strands of golden wheat hair high onto her pillow and moved the cloth across the backside of her neck then followed it around to the front. She had a captivating child-like appearance but at the same time showed every inch the woman. Long lashes rested against high, rosy cheekbones and the hint of a small dimple rested beside her mouth. Suddenly he realized his thoughts were wandering and promptly rested the wet rag on her forehead, turned and left the room.

  The water reservoir was slowly filling up and after the third trip, Bernie noticed the boy’s reluctant gaze to venture outdoors again.

  “Let’s go together,” said Bernie. “I got seasoned water on the stove to make soup for when your mother wakes up. I’ll finish when I get back.”

  Bernie noticed Blaze still tethered to the hitching post at the bottom of the porch steps. “Davey, you got room in your barn for my horse?”

  The lad perked up. “Yes, sir. Lots of room. Our horse got hurt a while back and Ma had to take him out to the field and shoot him.”

  “You only had one horse? How do you operate a farm without good strong horses?”

  “Pappy wasn’t a good farmer, but he tried to make Ma’s dream come true. The old folks that homesteaded this parcel of land before us couldn’t wait to high-tail it out of here after Pa bought it. They called it a never-ending drudgery and I heard Pa repeat it under his breath just two weeks after we settled in. Do you know what that means, mister?”

  “Reckon when you’d rather be doing something else,” said Bernie.

  “Yes, sir. Pa wanted to work in a bank and count money.”

  “Does sound easier.” He loosened the reins from the post. “But there’s something to be said about money earned doing physical labor.” The boy hung on his every word and Bernie sensed the lad missed conversing with a man. “Before we go for more water, let’s bed Blaze down. He’s yearning for a dry place to spend the night.”

  “Are you sleeping over, mister?”

  “If you’re good with the arrangement,” said Bernie. “Sure would like to keep an eye on your mother until she’s up and around.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “On that rug in front of the fireplace since you got it all warmed up for me.”

  “Suppose that’d be all right,” said Davey. “Last man that tried to sleep over got walked to the end of the lane at the end of Ma’s gun. When she came back, all the doors and windows got locked and she let me sleep in the big bed that night.”

  “Your Ma sounds like a spitfire.”

  “Sure is. Pappy said even though she was a little itty-bitty gal, her heart and character was bigger than the whole country.” Davey swung open the barn door. “You traveled the whole country, mister?”

  “A lot, but not all of it.” He glanced around the barn, also in sad need of repair. “I see you have a milking cow.”

  “Yeah, Ma says milk’s important for a growing boy. But she really wants chickens more than anything in the world. Pa got extra wood stacked in the barn to build the coop and sometimes we sit on the pile and count the imaginary birds that will live there. It’s kind of fun to be silly sometimes, don’t you think?”

  “Laughing keeps your spirit up. No harm in it.” He scrunched his brows and stared at Davey. “Did you say chickens were your mother’s biggest wish?”

  “Oh, no sir. Her biggest wish is to see me go to school again next fall.”

  “Is there a reason why you can’t? Belle is not too far away.”

  “Only went two weeks, then Pa died and the horse went lame and needed to be put down. The old wagon we came west in is all tuckered out and stuck under a pile of snow. Makes Ma cry when she sees all the work that she can’t do, so we don’t talk about it.”

  “I happen to know how to do a few things, and I could teach you. Just while your Ma is getting better.”

  “That’d be nice, mister.” Davey brightened and it did Bernie’s heart good to see the sadness disappear from his eyes.

  “Why don’t you call me Bernie?”

  “Ma says it’s not polite to call big people by their first name.”

  “Suppose she’s got a point, and good manners are mighty important. Why don’t you call me Mr. B – short for Bernie Drysdale? Sort of sounds more like we’re starting out on friendly footing.”

  Davey opened the gate leading into one of the stalls. “You can put Blaze here, Mr. B. He’s a grand looking animal. Bet he could pull that old plow without breaking a sweat.”

  “He’s never tried, but you’re probably right. Blaze usually does whatever I ask him.”

  Bernie threw his saddle and blanket over a rail and took a brush and gave his horse a few quick swipes. Davey arrived with an armload of hay. “Blaze may as well eat Gerties share. The old people just left all their summer hay here in the barn. Made Ma really happy. Said they were generous folks, but Pa said they wouldn’t need it in the city and left it behind for the greenhorn farmers.” He ran to the corner and came back with a pail half full of water. “Blaze can drink from her bucket too.”

  “Do you miss spending time with a horse? Know I’d be lost if I didn’t have Blaze to talk to.”

  “Horses don’t talk, Mr. B,” Davey said in a tone that suggested Bernie should know better. “Used to come to the barn to help with the chores and never once heard old Gertie utter a word I understood. A lot of neighing and nickering.” He imitated the horse’s actions while making his version of the sounds. Eventually, he dropped onto the dry straw and rested his elbows on the feed bin. “Ma says the long trip west and then falling on the ground is what done her in.” A slow grin spread across his face. “I’ll bet you figured I was trying to make your Blaze sick with bad hay – so you’d have to stay forever.” The boy bit his lip and kicked at the rails that formed the walls of the stall. “Sorry. Pappy said when my mouth got loose there was no stopping the nonsense that worked its way out. We best be filling the water pail again and get back to the house with Ma.”

  “Lead on.” Davey raced ahead, and Bernie marveled at his way of jumping from sadness to excitement in the blink of an eye. He could easily grow to like this lad.

  Chapter 3

  Bernie found the makings for a soup base in a cupboard where other skimpy food supplies sat. A few spices flavored the small pot, enough to make it passable for the woman when she wakened. Leastways Bernie hoped she’d waken and wondered if he ought to ride back to town for the doctor. Davey said it had been two days. If the fever didn’t break tonight, he’d go first thing in the morning.

  Davey pointed him to a large bin of ground-dug vegetables: carrots, squash, potatoes, onions, but mostly dirt filled the container and whatever was left for food looked old and threatening to mold. If this winter didn’t end soon these two would surely starve. In a bigger pot, he diced up carrots, turnips, and potatoes and added sliced off chunks of the frozen section of the rabbit that Davey’s mother hadn’t cooked. At least they’d had the good sense to put what was left of the critter in the makeshift icebox kept in the closed off portion of the back porch. The meat was still edible. Of course, he was no expert, neither claiming to be a cook nor a doctor. And he certainly had no experience with young’uns. Thank goodness this lad was well behaved and eager to
please.

  The aroma of food filled the air and he could see Davey lick his lips. “You hungry, boy?” That was a dumb question but it broke the silence.

  “Yes, sir. Ma won’t let me start fires by myself.”

  “Even when you’re both near frozen? I’m sure she would have forgiven you if you’d attempted one.”

  “Pappy always said to mind Ma, and I ain’t crossed the line yet. Figured just because I turned six, the rules hadn’t changed much. But I did pray and ask God to send a fire-starter. So even when a stranger showed up, I knew He sent you and wasn’t too afraid.”

  Bernie smiled to himself. “Your Ma will be right proud of you knowing you prayed me here. Women like that sort of thing.”

  “Yes, sir. My Ma reads the Bible every day and keeps me on the straight-and-narrow with what it says.”

  When the testing fork pierced through the ingredients in the pot, Bernie scooped food into two bowls and pushed the prepared broth to the cooler side of the stove. “Suppose you don’t have bread anywhere?”

  “No sir. Debated eating the last piece this morning but the green part turned me off. Fed it to the hogs.”

  Bernie plunked the bowl in front of him. “Well, dig in boy. Your mother will need your strength when she wakes up. Fever zaps a body of energy.”

  “Need to give thanks. Pappy said a man should never be so starved he don’t have time to give thanks, even if it’s only rabbit stew.”

  Bernie chuckled. “Fussy now, are we? Do you remember everything your Pa said?”

  “Forgetting some of it and it scares me some. But when it came to living proper, Pappy hammered the truth into me whenever he could. Ma says he was a God-fearing man. Are you afraid of God, Mr. B?”

  “Only fools don’t fear God. But it’s not the scary kind that gives you nightmares; just the kind that reminds you wisdom comes from a higher source.” Bernie bowed his head. “Go ahead, Davey. You can lead since you’re the man of the house.”