From Mourning to Joy

to get caught up on all the highlights of Belle’s news. After paying one night’s lodging and feed for his horse, the drifter left the stables. Bernie couldn’t afford to live at the saloon for the remainder of the winter. He’d need to ask around tomorrow to see if he could drum up some work. Getting a word in edge-wise with Paps had proven impossible.
The next morning, he walked into the general store to put a bug in someone else’s ear that he was looking for winter lodging and hopefully work.
“Morning,” Bernie greeted the man behind the counter.
“Howdy, stranger. Something I can get for you?” No chatter from this man; just straight to the point of business.
Bernie followed suit. “Two things on my mind. I wondered if you knew of anyone needing a handyman. Had experience fixing just about anything around a farm. Worked as a cattleman too.”
The storekeeper scanned the newcomer. “Now I don’t go telling tales without knowing who I’m talking to. My name’s Henry Stewart. And that’s my woman over there, Olivia.” He yelled out to her. “Come see, Livvy. Got us another drifter looking for a place to bunker down for the rest of the winter.”
“Welcome to Belle,” she said as she approached. “Hope you enjoy our town while you’re visiting.” Livvy studied the cowboy – tall, dark, and handsome – while the names of a number of eligible females popped into her head. “What did you say your name was?”
“Didn’t yet.” He thrust out a hand. “Bernie Drysdale from Texas.”
“Now that was easy to figure out with that southern drawl giving you away. A woman likes to hear music in a man’s voice when he talks.”
Bernie smiled at her description of him but herded the conversation back to the point of his stopping by.
“Been mighty cold on the trails, ma’am. Ready for a roof over my head – other than the open sky the Good Lord provides.” As an afterthought he hoped he might make more headway if they knew he was willing to spend some money in the store. “Maybe while I look around for supplies you can think of someone who might need my services.”
“Don’t need no time, mister,” said Henry. “The Mrs. and I been talking about poor Janelle Rimes but haven’t had a spare minute to ride out and check on her. Husband passed away in the fall, and left her alone on the farm with their little boy. He ain’t much use to her, but she brags him up like he was twenty-years-old and able to step into his Pa’s shoes.”
“Suppose that’s a mother’s way of surviving – doting on young’uns,” Bernie offered, pleasantly recalling the attention he received from his own Ma as the only bright spot in his growing up years.
“You sound like you speak from experience,” said Livvy taking a new interest in the man.
“Maybe.” He turned his attention to the staples on the shelves behind the counter. “Do you think Mrs. Rimes is in need of supplies?”
“Heavens yes. We’ve given her all the credit we can manage and folks try to share the little bit they’ve stored for over the winter, but it’s a long way ‘til spring and life’s unpredictable in these parts.”
“As the widow, Janelle, found out rather quickly,” added Henry.
“Does she have a barn I can sleep in?”
“Sure enough. A farm without a barn is a pretty sad state of affairs,” said Henry. “Although, someone should have shaken some sense into her husband; holing his family up in such a run-down place.”
“Speak kindly of the deceased, Henry. Winter was coming on and they had to settle somewhere,” chided Mrs. Stewart.
Bernie slapped both hands on the counter and smiled. “Then fill up a bag with whatever you figure she needs and head me in her direction. I’ll go fetch my things and bring my horse around shortly.” As he passed the candy dish, he pointed to it. “Put one of those in for the boy.”
While he threw his clothes into his saddlebag, Bernie wondered about the upcoming visit. She might just grab the supplies he brought as a peace offering and throw him off her land. Worst still she might have a rifle and shoot before she asks who’s calling. Saddle bums wandering in on strangers proved a risky practice at the best of times, let alone a woman protecting her young. But he was desperate. Last night, curled up in a soft bed, had spoiled him for battling the great outdoors another day.
Bernie glanced in the mirror and frowned. He should have gotten a haircut and shave last night with the bath. Might make a woman more prone to open her door. The barbershop wasn’t busy and did a fine job at making him appear respectable. With the dark waves now trimmed to a decent length and bristly whiskers scratched right down to the bare skin underneath, his appearance took on the friendly posture he wished to reveal to the widow.
When he walked back into the mercantile, Henry whistled long and slow. “Well, I’ll be. You clean up pretty good, stranger. Come see, Livvy.”
Bernie reached into his pocket for money to pay the bill. “Didn’t want to scare the little Mrs. before I had a chance to offer my services in exchange for a room in her barn and one square meal a day.”
“Sounds like a fair bargain to me.” Livvy said as she passed by.
Henry reached under the counter and withdrew a handful of shells. “These here will fit her rifle should you need to hunt for meat. On the house.”
“Thanks. Got any tips on my approach, Mrs. Stewart?”
“She doesn’t take kindly to a man sweet talking her. Plenty around here tried and were run off with the barrel of that rifle you’re providing ammunition for, aimed at their broken hearts.” Mrs. Stewart chuckled