"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 hardship 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.