From Mourning to Joy

seen the stronghold flee his own mother. Perhaps God was providing this opportunity to heal his guilty conscience of failing his ma years ago. Janelle Rimes was in a vulnerable position, and he hoped more than ever, that she’d let him stay and help her through the winter.
The bedroom door closed behind them. Bernie finished off his bowl of supper and filled it to the top again, listening for any loud crashes in the adjoining room. Davey soon reappeared at the table and began spooning mouthfuls into his eager mouth. Between bites, he filled Bernie in.
“I found Ma’s best nightie, spread it out, and undid her buttons at the back. Gave her a clean cloth so she could wash her hands and face. She sits down a lot to catch her breath but I see the light coming back in her eye, Mr. B. I think she’s going to get better now.”
“A mother would think twice about departing this world and leave a son like you to fend for himself. Probably would think it selfish to enjoy her mansion in glory while you struggled to run the farm alone,” said Bernie.
Davey glanced up from his bowl. “More likely, she feared leaving me with you.” He bit his lip. “No disrespect meant sir, but these past months alone without Pappy, Ma’s been approached by men that had no interest in raising a son. Even a little boy can see evil in a man’s eyes.”
“You’ve done well to keep your Ma safe. Your Pappy is looking down, bragging to everyone
how proud he is of his son.”
“I try my best, but Ma, she’s the strong one. Had most of those fellas running for their saddles within the hour.”
In the brief encounter with the conscious woman, Bernie could well picture that exodus. “When she’s tucked back under, let me know and I’ll bring in some broth and introduce myself proper-like.”
Twenty minutes later, when Bernie was extended the invitation to enter her room, he brought a bowl, tea towel, and a glass of cool water as a peace offering. She offered him a polite smile and nodded to the rocker positioned beside her bed.
“Please, come in. My son tells me we owe you our lives.”
“He’s a brave boy, but a might too obedient to keep you both alive too much longer.”
“How so?”
“Says he’s not allowed to start a fire, and with no food on the shelves to pick at without being cooked first, that left you on the brink of starvation and near froze to death when I arrived on the scene.” He chuckled. “Other than his birthday cake, which left him sick from pigging the lot.”
Janelle concentrated on the steam billowing from the bowl he carried in his hand and licked her dry lips. “I am hungry and thirsty. Thank you for your kindness.”
Bernie walked over and put the wooden tray on the end table. “If you prop yourself against the pillows, we’ll see if you can keep a bit of this broth down.”
“Oh, poor Davey. Last I recall, I belched in his supper.”
“The boy washed it off the floor but couldn’t bear to eat the little bit left in the pot.”
“I feel so bad.”
“Not your fault ma’am that you got sick.” He bowed his head ever so slightly and smiled. “My name is Bernie Drysdale – just drifting around the countryside. Visited the friendly town of Belle yesterday and the storekeepers told me you might need a handyman. I am willing to trade my work for a roof over my head and one square meal a day, but by the looks of your cupboards, I’d say even that’d be a stretch for you.”
“The icebox is near empty and I’m terrible at shooting game. But I’d have tried again, after we ate the last of the rabbit.”
He passed her a towel to lay under her chin. “Well, ma’am, the offer still holds. I can shoot and there is a heap of fixing to be done on the place. When you’re all better, I’ll set up a spot for sleeping in the barn and we can get through this winter together.”
“Thank you, Mr. Drysdale. I will consider it. Davey seems quite taken with you.”
“Don’t have experience with young’uns but yours is one of the best I’ve met so far. You and your man did a fine job raising the lad.”
“Jacob was a good father and husband,” said Janelle. “More than willing to put his hand to the plow to make my frontier dream come true. But he wasn’t a farmer, and only agreed to indulge my heart’s desire for one year. He figured I’d be disillusioned by then while I feared the limited time would not satisfy his definition of success. But we never had the chance to prove either. He only lived for five weeks.”
“Sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
He pushed the spoon in her direction and Janelle opened her mouth to receive the warm broth.
“Very good, Mr. Drysdale. I see you’re handy in the kitchen. That skill puts you in a favorable light.”
“My mother did teach me cooking basics so I wouldn’t starve, but I prefer the land; farming, ranching, anything done under the open sky.”
“I’d gladly trade jobs and work outside in the fresh air.”
“Little too fresh, these days, ma’am. You’d do better inside, staying close to the fire. A good wind would send you flying clear to Glenda.”
Janelle grinned. “I’ve been told that. Don’t let my size throw you. I’m strong and capable.”
“Pleased to hear that. You’ll need it.”
“Do you enjoy drifting, Mr. Drysdale?”
“Suppose,” Bernie said cautiously noticing the sudden bite to her tongue. “Truth is, I never had a good reason to stop yet.”
“Well, don’t think of stopping on our account. Me and Davey will manage fine.”
“Yeah, I saw that plan in action earlier.”
She