Part 41 (2/2)
She said, ”I have something for you, too.”
She gave him a watch, a thick silver watch that had been made by some German craftsman and had somehow found its way to the sutler's store at Fort Laramie. Joe gazed at it, not believing what he saw. Watches were luxuries, thus they were only for those who could afford luxuries. Joe turned the key. He held the watch to his ear so he could hear its ticking.
In the middle of a wilderness, on their way to another, owning only what they could load on a wagon, they sat very close and knew the true spirit of Christmas. They watched the minute hand, amazed at how slowly time pa.s.sed when you were looking at it, and then they laughed again, free and hearty laughter that can be born only of hope and faith in the future.
Joe said, ”I'll have to get busy.”
A lighted lantern in his hand, he went to a small pine he had already marked and chopped it cleanly. From behind the cabin he took a bucket of sand that he had saved for this purpose, and thrust the tree upright in it. When he re-entered the cabin, popcorn snapped in Emma's skillet and for one of the few times since leaving the farm, her trunk was open.
There were parcels and jars on the table. Her new scarf worn proudly on her shoulders, Emma looked up from the fireplace.
”Canned pumpkin.” She indicated the jars. ”I brought it all this way so we can have pumpkin pie tomorrow.”
”Oh boy!” Joe smacked his lips.
The cabin seemed to have come alive with the spirit of Christmas. The rafters had a softer glow. Through their minds ran strains of gay music they had heard, but it was so real that it seemed to be heard again in the cabin.
Emma asked, ”Pop some more corn, will you?”
”Sure thing.”
While Joe knelt before the fireplace, Emma threaded a needle and strung popcorn on the thread. She draped it gracefully over the tree, then opened a parcel and took colored ornaments from it. They were the tree ornaments Emma had had from her mother, and she'd treasured them for years. The tree sparkled in its new-found glory.
Emma had wrapped the children's presents carefully and separately, and had written their name on each. She arranged them beside the tree, then took another armful of wrapped presents out of the trunk. Joe looked at them, surprised.
”What are they?”
”Barbara's presents. She knitted hats for you, Mr. Snedeker, and Ellis.”
”I never saw her knitting.”
”How could you when you're away all day long?” She was impatient now.
”Do you want to call them, Joe? Bring all of them.”
”Right away.”
Not bothering with a coat, Joe ran across the short s.p.a.ce that separated their cabin from the store and entered. A wolf pelt draped over his shoulders, Tad was leading his brothers in a march among the counters and baby Emma was playing with a string of bright beads she had found.
Snedeker tilted on a chair beside the fire, watching the children.
Barbara and Ellis sat together on the opposite side of the fireplace, and Joe did not look too closely at them. Ellis had told him that Barbara hadn't said no, and it _did_ seem that they sat pretty close together.
Joe called, ”You're all coming over to our place.”
”Run along, kids,” Snedeker told them. ”Your maw wants you.”
”You too, Jim.”
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