From Mourning to Joy

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.”
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