Try and she might, she could not credit the underlying fear as the main source of the raging emotions swirling inside her tonight. The jolt from Bernie’s touch had instead inspired new sensations that did not stem from any defensive dread for her safety. In light of her unpromising future, she’d be a fool not to study this new sentiment creeping to the forefront.
“Ma, are you all right?” A small voice sounded from his doorway. She opened her arms and he ran into them.
“Oh, Davey. I miss your Pappy.”
“You didn’t run Mr. B. off with your gun, did ya?”
Janelle playfully messed his hair. “No, probably a much more dangerous weapon.” She took his hand. “Shall I read to you from the Good Book?”
“That’d be nice, Ma.”
“Come on. You wash your face and hands while I change into my nightclothes. Then we’ll snuggle in the big bed and read about miracles.”
“I’m thinking God sent us a miracle in Mr. B,” Davey said.
“Agreed. We’d both be dead, walking the streets of heaven with your Pappy if Mr. B hadn’t come along when he did,” said Janelle.
“I know heaven is our hope but I was sort of hankering for a bit more time down here on earth. Do you think God’s all right with that?” asked Davey.
“None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. But we can stand on the truth that God knows the exact hour that he will call us home and He will keep us until that day.”
Janelle awoke an hour later and pushed her son to the side. After placing the Bible on the night table, she tiptoed into the kitchen, turned up the lantern and went to work. From the dishpan, her gaze often drifted to the side window where she noticed a dim light through the cracks in the barn boards, and smoke billowing out the chimney from the potbelly stove. Relief that he’d at least be warm softened the remorse she felt in failing to speak openly to the man.
Janelle wondered if his thoughts of this new family he’d rescued were kind tonight. She’d given him every reason to back off emotionally and never reveal that easy-going gait that she found irresistible. And Davey, how could she explain his standoffishness to her son when all she wanted was to protect him from bonding with a drifter?
A light knock invaded the silence. She turned while drying her hands on her apron. Glancing out the window, she noticed the light had disappeared from the barn, and when she drew closer to the door, she heard Bernie’s voice.
“Just me, ma’am. Needed to clear the air so I could fall asleep.”
She smiled faintly while opening the door wide, shifting to the side to let him pass and then closing it against the cold night. He removed his hat, and from his position could see Davey curled up in the big bed.
“Suppose that says it all. I’ll pull out in the morning.”
Janelle grabbed his arm. “Bernie please, I’m not good at this.”
“Honesty? Just spit it out, woman and stop both our minds from guessing.”
“I felt threatened.” She knew she couldn’t leave it there. Not if he wanted honesty. “At first, I wrote off my reaction to our touch as fear from past unwanted advances, but my heart wouldn’t let it rest there. Truth is, I bolted when our hands made contact as a result of a new feeling, one I haven’t figured out as of yet. But it wasn’t fear. You’ve been good to my son and me and I returned it by lashing out defensively, knowing Davey will be hurt when you leave in the spring.”
“And will you care if I leave in the spring?”
“Can’t rightly answer that. I’ve only known you a short time. But I can say I’d miss your carefree nature for the rest of the winter should you leave prematurely, or perhaps worse; stay and remain distant toward us.”
“Never my intention, ma’am.”
“And I believe it was you who set the rule about using first names,” Janelle said attempting to brighten the gloom.
A slow grin spread across his face. “I reckon I did.”
“So, can we put this misunderstanding behind us?” asked Janelle.
“Best place for it. And in the future should something be on your mind, just break loose and let ‘er fly. You’ll be surprised how understanding I can be.”
“I already am. You’re unlike any drifter I’ve ever known.”
“And how many would that be?” he asked and watched her squirm.
“Well, not too many,” she stammered then noticed the tease curling the corner of his lips. “Are you baiting me?”
“Fishing? Is the Belle River good for ice-fishing?”
Janelle frowned at the sudden change in topic. “I believe it is. The men at church use a bragging stick to measure their great catches. Such a competitive lot.”
“How about we all go tomorrow after breakfast? Take the taste of liver out of Davey’s and my mouth.”
“You don’t like it either? Why did you save it?”
“Not everyone has the same taste buds when it comes to eating organs. And I’ve been desperate enough to fry it over a campfire in the past. A man does what he’s got to do.”
“Fish sounds like a nice treat, Bernie. We’ll dress warm and head out after flat cakes.”
“Again?” he teased. “What a man wouldn’t do for eggs. I saw some for sale at the general store – a short ride for a fella with a hankering for a change in diet.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” She reached for the door and opened it. “You can be most persistent, Bernie Drysdale.”
He tipped his hat and started off toward the barn, the lantern swinging in step with his easy stride and the melody of his whistle ringing into the clear night. The man was tall and slim, not at all hard to look at even from behind.
Davey could barely sit still during breakfast. “I know where Pappy stashed the poles, Mr. B., but we’ll have to rig one up for Ma.” He cast a look sideways while chewing on a large piece of pancake. “Can’t believe you’re tagging along. Did you ever fish before?”
“Not in the winter, but I’m sure they’re swimming down there somewhere, just as hungry as we are and willing to nibble at your bait.” She sat upright. “What will we use for bait. The worms are hiding deep in the ground.”
“Chopped ice this morning and scooped up some minnows. Found us a spot that’s aching to be fished,” said Bernie.
“What time were you up?” Janelle asked.
“Just before the sun peeped over the horizon. Body can’t sleep late with oinkers nearby. Pretty sure I heard one of them begging for a new home. Probably don’t like sleeping with me either.” He chuckled. “The new outbuildings shot to the top of my list of things that needed done. Going to build new quarters for pigs, hens and chickens.”
“Maybe if I went job hunting, I’d be able to afford some of those laying hens you’re dreaming about, Bernie,” said Janelle.
“Ah, Ma. You know it’s your dream, too,” chimed in Davey.
“You’re considering working in town?” asked Bernie.
“It would help to set me up for spring. I could tell Joseph Shields at the diner I only need work ‘til I can get on the land. He might give me something to do.”
Bernie did not encourage or discourage her decision. Independence was important to her and if working would help set her up as a real farmer, so be it. “That’d give me time alone without a woman to pester me to get this place in tip-top shape. Ain’t that right, boy?” he bantered with Davey.
“Yes, sir. And I’ll race home after school to lend a hand.” The child’s face beamed and they laughed.
“How about we all go to town tomorrow? Give you time to make that grocery list and I’ll work on the transportation this afternoon.”
“Yes, I suppose I should go to town. Let me think on it.” Janelle shook off burdensome thoughts of sponging off this hired man yet again or the displeasure she felt when considering working outside her home. She forced her face to brighten. “Right now, I’m ready for the adventure at the river,” said Janelle.
Davey was on his feet and headed for the door. “Come on, Mr. B. We
’ll make the rod while Ma cleans up.”
Bernie looked at Janelle. “Dress warm and bring mats to sit on the cold rocks. Might want to tie up your dress or put a pair of trousers on so you don’t get wet.”
“Trousers?”
“A woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do,” Bernie said playfully as he touched the tip of his cowboy hat and left the house.
All the while she scrubbed the dishes clean, she considered the idea. She still had a couple pair of Jacobs’ packed in a crate in the corner of her room. He was a small man but she’d still float in his clothes. When she realized vanity had entered the debate in her head, she pulled the pants out. “Easy girl,” she warned herself, as she yanked the material over her long wool stockings. A thin rope, which Janelle used in her room as a clothesline to hang her undergarments out of sight, was unfastened and strung through the loops at the waistline. After donning a wool plaid shirt, and tucking it under the leggings, she tugged the cord tight, the balloon effect tightening into acceptable sloppy fishing attire.
Janelle went to the small mirror and picked up a brush. Her long blonde hair was braided and wrapped in circles on top of her head. A cap finished off the new look and she stood back and laughed at herself. Before she had time to chicken out Davey rushed in and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Well, I’ll be. If it ain’t Pappy come back to go fishing with us.” Davey made it sound so natural, not emotional or sappy, just matter-of-fact.
Another head popped inside the doorway. Bernie grinned from ear to ear and Janelle’s heart leaped at his obvious admiration. She blushed and felt embarrassed. If only her son knew what she’d been thinking – wearing his father’s clothes and contemplating pleasing another man’s vision of her.
“Looks like we’re all ready.”
Janelle joined in the merriment. “Look out little fishes cause here we come.”
She handed Bernie the small mats and he held out a rod. “Your son picked the strongest branch with the sole purpose that you’d have the best pole. Then he kissed it for luck.”
Janelle blushed at the way he said kissed it and she felt a tease resurrect from some locked place in her heart – one she felt certain had died with her husband. “Are you jealous?” When his brow arched, she grinned, “About kissing the rod.”
“Now that you bring it up, the lad’s action might have put me in the kissing mood – but the rod was far from my mind.”
A voice, already three yards ahead, yelled, “You two coming?”
Bernie lifted his pole and shouted back. “Meet you there. Our legs aren’t as young as yours.”
Bernie turned and faced Janelle. “But now I have this impulsive desire to know how it feels to kiss a woman wearing trousers.”
“I don’t recall extending such an invitation, sir.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Bernie stepped closer and winked. “Consider it a kiss for luck.”
One quick glance toward the river revealed that Davey had disappeared from view. In one sweep, Bernie turned back and his lips landed full onto Janelle’s. Her eyes rounded with surprise but she didn’t pull away. Jacob had been the only boy she’d ever willingly kissed and she’d never dreamed of welcoming another. Bernie’s used the one arm free of a load to pull her in close – as close as their heavy coats would allow. The clothing barrier created a shield, which suppressed her good sense from raging completely out of control. She watched as his eyes closed and his kiss deepened, becoming more intense as he explored the new territory of her mouth. At what point she surrendered was unclear. The moment melded into the perfect blending of hearts and when he pulled away, she swayed.
“Well, how do you do, Janelle Rimes?” A smirk replaced the passion in his face. “But don’t be deceived into thinking I won’t fight to hook the biggest fish today.”
She laughed as he rescued her senses and brought her back to reality. “You’re on, Bernie Drysdale. I see you don’t place much faith in your good luck kiss, sir?” She moved past him and he hurried to catch up.
“Now why’d you have to go and burst my winning bubble before we even get to the fishing hole?”
“A man can’t have two victories all in the same morning, now can he?” Janelle turned away before he could see the crimson flush flooding up her neck and into her cheeks. “Best hurry or Davey will beat both of us.”
And that’s how it happened. Janelle caught two decent sized trout, and Bernie a rather large one that measured the same as her two. But Davey won hands down when he yanked in number four on his line. Bernie taught Davey how to fillet the fish and Janelle chose to skip that display and return to the cabin.
“The pan will be heated when you get back,” she said as she headed home. She smiled at the thought of home. For the first time in over five months home had a nice ring to it, but her heart checked out at the door reminding her that Bernie was a drifter and would leave the same way he came when the mood hit him. It was the way of a drifter, and she had no power to change that.
Chapter 6
By nightfall, the buggy was restored to its’ former glory and the venison sections cut, wrapped, and stored for future meals. Bernie felt good about the day’s accomplishments and gazed with admiration on Janelle and Davey as they all gathered at the table. Pride rose within him – like somehow, they’d always belonged together.
Janelle lifted her glass of water. “I’d like to toast two very busy men seated at my table. The fishing championship goes to Davey Rimes, seconded by his partner-in-crime, Mr. B, both skilled hunters and fishermen who have provided this household with enough rainbow trout and venison to fill our winter cache.”
“Hear, hear,” said Bernie and joined in the tinkling of glasses around the table. All three of them drank their tumblers empty of the cool refreshing water.
“So, are you still bent on getting a job when we go to town tomorrow?” Bernie asked Janelle.
“I think it’s my duty to provide for my son and the farm.”
“And the list – is it ready?” asked Bernie.
“I jotted a few things down, just because I can’t see a man starve who works as hard as you do. But, are you sure you can afford to buy another round of groceries?”
“I suggested it, so I’m sure. Pockets aren’t empty yet. Besides, a body can’t live on meat alone. And a boy needs vegetables and fruit. With you coming so late in the season you probably didn’t get enough produce from your garden. How about berries from the wild? Is there good picking in this area?”
“I picked some but the bears frightened me away. I’m such a scaredy-cat, and I couldn’t ask Jacob to stand guard while he struggled to patch up the house.”
“Need to keep a healthy distance between you and a bear. Fear is a good thing when facing a dangerous animal. Nothing for you to be ashamed of.” He held her gaze and reached deep to ensure the compliment registered inside. “We can survive on tins ‘til this blanket of snow melts and the ground gives way to the shovel.”
“I hope I didn’t leave the impression that my husband was lazy? He simply was not a handyman, and he died before we found out if he’d make a farmer.”
“Never assumed he was,” said Bernie.
“But Jacob was spontaneous and eager to please. Paid our fare to leave on the last wagon train west, never thinking ahead to how we’d manage when winter hit. It was late August when we settled in Belle, too late in the season to plant crops. I purchased what I could from the mercantile but was not counting on losing my man a few weeks later.”
“How did he die, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Janelle looked at Davey and bit her lip. “The horse stumbled and he hit his head on a rock. His rifle went off at the same time. Don’t know if it was the blow to the skull or the shot through his side that killed him, but he didn’t suffer. He died instantly. I had to put the animal down shortly after.”
Bernie sensed the tension in the room and put the conversation to rest. “Your fella is to be
commended. He did a fine job making the house livable for his family.” Bernie playfully shoved Davey. “Just look at the fine young lad he fathered. A man could do a far site less in his lifetime.”
Davey puffed his chest and strutted around the room like a proud peacock. Bernie and Janelle laughed until their sides near burst.
After the boy was tucked in, Bernie rose to go. “Guess I’ll mosey out to the barn now. Think my head will welcome that straw pillow tonight. Got me a right cozy spot out there, Janelle. Thanks for your hospitality and fine cooking. At this rate of food consumption, old Blaze won’t be able to drag us to town.”
“What do you mean? Surely your horse is not expected to carry three on his back all the way to Belle.”
“Didn’t I tell you? I was hunting around behind the barn and saw a heap in the snow and sure enough a wagon was hiding underneath.”
“Jacob told me the trip west had done it in and his plan was to burn it in the fireplace if we ran out of wood this winter.”
“Now that’d be breaking rule number one in the poor-farmer code book. Grant you, the ripped tarp went by the wayside but the undercarriage, brakes and wheels were all repairable. Just needed a bit of attention to get it standing on its feet again.”
She clasped her hands to her mouth while her eyes danced. “I can’t believe you fixed the wagon. But without your horse pulling it, the contraption won’t be of any service to me.”
“Blaze has kindly agreed to do the job, until we can arrange a deal with your friend at the livery. Probably need to barter for a Belgium or Clydesdale, both strong working horses to help out around the farm, especially when plowing season starts up.”
“A sleigh would do better in snow,” said Janelle. “Sliding down the snow-covered roads and pastures always made my heart dance – but that was back East.”
“A sleigh is definitely better in the winter. Perhaps next year. Meanwhile, beggars can’t choose their ride, and there’s a heavy load to tote back to the farm. I noticed the snow on the road is firmly packed and the route from here to Belle fairly level, so between Blaze and me, we think we can hold the wagon straight. Slow and steady, there and back is the order of the day.”
From Mourning to Joy Page 5
