Part 41 (1/2)
Emma hesitated. ”Barbara hasn't accepted him.”
”How do you know?”
Emma said, ”She'd have told me.”
Joe pondered. ”He seems like a good enough young man, but we don't know a blasted thing about him. I wouldn't want Barbara to get in a mess.”
”What did you tell him, Joe?”
”That I am Barbara's father, not her master. I can't tell her who to marry.” He scowled, wondering if he'd done right. Emma laid a comforting hand on his arm.
”What else _could_ you have told him?”
”Nothing.”
She sighed. ”That's right. All we can do is help guide Barbara.”
”There's another thing. Ellis wants to take her to a New Year's dance at Laramie. He said they'll go one day and come back the next, and Barbara can stay with Ynez Driscoll overnight.”
”What did you say to that?”
”I said he'd have to ask you.”
Emma said hesitantly, ”It may be a good idea and it may not. I'll have to think about it.” Joe saw that she had clasped her hands together, and that the knuckles showed white. Unquestionably she was worried about Barbara and Ellis, more worried than _he_ was. Joe knew, too, that Emma would leave no stone unturned to learn more about Ellis before things went much further, and he suspected that she would learn about Ellis not by asking questions of Snedeker, but by talking with Ellis himself.
The fire blazed brightly, casting shadows on the rough-hewn beams that supported the ceiling and on the uneven floor. There was a spot of dirt on the floor, and Emma stooped mechanically to brush it up. Joe looked fondly at her, and knew that she had already borne trials which only a strong person could bear. His brow clouded when he thought of trials still to come.
He said, ”It's been a hard road, Emma, and a long one.”
”We didn't expect it would be easy, Joe.” And then, because she saw he needed something more from her, she said, ”We've been lucky, Joe. We're through with the worst weather--we won't need to move again until spring. Meanwhile--why, we're just as comfortable here as we could be in our own home!”
He smiled wryly, and held her eyes with his own honest glance.
”It's _not_ our own home, though, and nothing will ever feel like home again until we've stopped moving, and planted crops, and have our own roof over our heads.”
He had said what was in her mind, so there was no need for further speech on that subject. She came to him and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
He jumped to his feet and grabbed her in a furious hug. ”Emma, my fine girl!” he declared. ”When we get to Oregon I'm going to build you a house that will make our other house seem like a chicken coop!”
She looked at him with all of her love and faith, and with laughter in her eyes. ”With five acres of flower garden and a square mile just for the chickens!” she said. They laughed uproariously, ridiculously. Then Joe remembered something.
”Excuse me a minute.”
Joe went to the wagon, and took from the tool box the one parcel that had been there since leaving Laramie. Very gently he gave it to Emma.
”Merry Christmas, my dear.”
”Joe!” She held the package tenderly, caressing it with her spirit before she did with her hands, for she knew the gift could never be forsaken or forgotten. She heard Joe say,
”I only wish it was half as fine as you are.”
Her hands trembled as she opened the package and gazed with rapt eyes at the scarf. Emma, who had seen little except hards.h.i.+p since leaving Missouri, brushed this truly beautiful thing with her hands and pressed it against her cheek. In the exquisite scarf she saw all her hopes and dreams come alive.