From Mourning to Joy

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, mister. 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,