I do not own Once Upon a Time

9 Hard Truths

The rain fell hard again the next day, erasing the smoke that desperately wanted to hang onto the wisps of the wind, but melted in the sweet aroma of the raining skies. The seed must get into the ground, but to plant while the ground was being drowned in long sought after rain wouldn't be good for the seed. Ralph had to plow for Papa, as he hadn't recovered fully from the smoke and fear he had experienced. He helped with the animals to allow Ralph to get an early start, but his movements were slow and interrupted by bouts of coughing. His breathing was accompanied by a humming sound and he seemed to never get a full breath.

This worried Belle, just like she worried over Ralph. As the day drew to a close, Ralph's limp grew more pronounced and he used the handles of the plow as a steadying device when he faltered. Despite her own fatigue from her work in the garden and home, she readied a basin for him to sponge bath and dry clothes to change into, and a hot basin of water for his leg to soak, despite his protests. He looked at her in tired thanks and a soft smile that warmed Belle to her toes as she beamed back at him.

What a handsome face he had when he smiled, how could she think otherwise before? He certainly had a small wiry frame, and a sharp nose, but she had long since thought that his soft brown eyes and lines of his smile well made up for what society would consider shortcomings in his looks. Every part of his looks made up the Ralph that she knew and loved. She could have stared at him for another half hour while he penciled something on a spare corner of a piece of paper. His head was bent over the paper, his hair falling around his eyes as he scribbled the estimated return of the gamble they were making.

Alas, the wheezing of her father and the bubbling of the stew she had prepared broke her stare and brought her back to her duties at the shanty. Every breath of her father caused her heart to clench a bit. She boiled more water to make her father some tea to hopefully help soothe his throat. It didn't do much, and she knew Ralph was tossing and turning as much as her as her father's coughs rang out the whole night.

The rain stopped the next day and she and Ralph put the seed corn in the ground.

'I'm worried about Papa.' She broke the silence.

Ralph, who had a half crouch, his staff helping spring him to the next area of soil to place the seeds, looked up at her, concern knitted in his brows.

'Aye. The smoke seems to have lingered with him.'

Belle bit the bottom of her lips.

'He's had some trouble before-a little cough or sound to his breathing when he's burning something, or when he's done with the haying. It lasts a day or two then gone for months at a time. This is worse-so much worse than before.'

Ralph and Belle continued to put the seed in the ground, he gave her another concerned glance and she gave him a small smile in response. Ralph looked to be deep in thought.

'Belle. You, you mentioned your mother's brothers-you had family before this.' he motioned towards the never ending prairie stretched out before them. 'Do you have any contact with them anymore?'

The question caused her to pause for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking.

'No, Uncle Henry died not long after Mama, and our last letter from Uncle James was before we moved here. His family spoke of moving again in that letter, so I wouldn't know where to address one if I had a mind to send a letter. Papa's family came from Boston, and I have little knowledge of them, outside of knowing they must have existed. He never speaks of them, outside of the little stories of his childhood he tells. Even that has been sparse. Why do you ask?'

Ralph seemed shaken at the question posed at him.

'N-no reason really. I just think-I just worry…' He would go no further.

'Are you thinking about what would happen if Papa…'

Ralph colored and nodded.

Belle finished the row she was on and straightened her back a moment, placing her hands behind her and pressing down on the lower part of her back. It would ache that night, but she had nothing to complain about since she had two good legs to work with. She shrugged her shoulders after that, contemplating what Ralph had been wondering.

'I've worried about that since we came.'

Ralph shook his head. 'I've often wondered why he brought you out here. If something happened and you were alone.' He seemed to think about what he was saying. 'I'm sorry, Belle, I shouldn't say such things, I'm sure your father…'

'It's fine, Ralph. As I told you, my father had no success with his gambling, which left us little choice but to try to find greener pastures. It's like the corn here. It could rain tomorrow and continue to rain until it turns to snow. We could have no harvest and starve this winter.' Ralph seemed to shiver at her words. She felt bad for bringing it up, but she wanted Ralph to see the great dilemma, though she couldn't say she had liked it when her father had suggested it.

'But as you pointed out, we have few options and this is the best one. I can't say it doesn't worry me, but I can't worry about things I can't control. I can't control the rain any more than I can control what my father did. I must simply live and hope that things work out.' She sighed 'Anyway, right now it's just a cough.'

'Aye.' Ralph nodded his head in understanding. 'Just a cough.'

…

It was just a cough. Mr. French had another bout of coughing three nights later. After a day of relief, he had decided to help Belle and Ralph with the haying. It had been a beautiful clear day, the corn was in the ground, and something like hope had stirred in their hearts again. Belle had hummed as she worked, no more beautiful sound Ralph had ever heard, and while the list of things needed to be done before winter was long, there was a bounce in their steps. Mr. French's sluggishness seemed to recede and there was a smile on his face they hadn't seen since the fire.

One day out in the field and the coughing had returned. In between spells of coughing, he struggled to gain enough breath for his lungs, and the sour note wheezed out from him as he struggled. It was agonizing to hear him, and he knew it pained Belle even more.

He had felt horrible for his frank questions of Belle. She had taken it well, but the words didn't sit any better with him. No amount of fatigue from working in the fields could take the thoughts that worried his mind. What if Belle's father got no better? Why in the blue blazes had he thought it a good idea to carry a daughter to a land that fought you tooth and nail for survival? Why couldn't her father have shown a little self control with his money? He pushed these thoughts back. They were here now, and this was the lot cast-now he just had to take things as they came and plan for the future all at the same time.

…

Ralph squirmed a little in the wagon seat. No matter how he situated himself, there was no comfortable position for his leg and he sighed. As strong as he had gotten, and as much as he had found ways to work around his injury, every rattle of the wagon reminded him of the unfortunate event that forever changed his life.

It was strange to sit on the wagon seat alone. Mr. French was still struggling with his lungs, though he had a day or two of relief each week, something always found its way to trigger the fits anew. Belle was worried and it hurt him to watch her concern and fear. Ralph knew it was a testament to how ill Mr. French felt and a bit to how much he was trusted that he was headed to town alone to trade their cash crop and gather the few supplies they needed to survive the winter.

'Mr. French? No, this is Hobblefoot behind the French horses, why what a surprise.' Jones' voice held none of the shock he spoke of, and Ralph cringed at his nickname as he saw a good crowd that day around and in the store. Ralph looked over at Jones who had a smirk plastered on his face, as if there was something he knew that Ralph did not-something he probably didn't want to know.

'Just me, Jones. Mr. French is not feeling well today, so I'm here to make the trade. Help me unload these, will you?' Ralph's hands trembled at his own brave words. Belle and even Mr. French had helped him gain some confidence, and he wanted to test it out with the man that made him want to shrink inside himself. Jones' smirk left for a moment, replaced by an indignant snort, but he did begrudgingly help unload the corn into the shop.

'You are one of the few with any corn at all to sell. Did you not lose anything in the prairie fire? Noland, didn't you say you saw the flame go towards the French's farm?'

Ralph recognized the man that had sat next to the woman Belle said was Mary Margret.

'Yep. Mary's family got themselves to a lake. Survived but lost everything. We were planning to move out there after we got married, but never have I been more thankful that I took the job here in town for the summer. How did you survive it, Mr.-what was your name again, I'm sorry.'

'Ralph, sir, Ralph Gold.'

'David Noland, Nice to meet you. You're the hired hand of Miss Belle French, is that right?'

Jones seemed to inwardly groan over the cordialness of this Mr. David Noland.

'Yes sir.'

'And how did you manage to not only survive but have a crop of corn, if I may ask?'

Ralph sighed. This was more speech than he was used to, well to anyone except for Belle. He steadied his nerves and answered.

'Fire ring. Mr. French plowed a burrow around the house and barn, and we set and put out small fires to keep the prairie fire from coming through. We lost our corn crop, but managed to raise another in time. It's smaller than our last crop, but will see us through the winter. How-How are, is it Mrs. Noland now? How are her parents faring?'

David smiled. 'Yes she is Mrs. Noland now. They are fine. Had enough money saved up from last year, that along with what I made working here in town, they will be alright. It'll be a lean year, but we will make it through. I am actually here getting supplies to help finish the two houses we are building. We will be moving out there to help them with their farm.'

Ralph nodded his head as acknowledgement that he was listening, as they pulled in the rest of the corn. Jones stayed quiet during this exchange, while he counted the bushels that were brought in. Ralph had a thought.

'Your farm will be close to the French's, correct?'

'I believe we will be the closest thing you have to neighbors, Mr. Ralph.' David smiled again. He was a pleasant fellow, much to be preferred to the men he had met thus far in the area. It encouraged him to continue.

'I-uh, that is, I believe Miss Belle enjoyed the company of Mrs. Noland last winter. If the weather is clear, I am sure she would be more than happy to receive Mrs. Noland for a visit.' Ralph scratched the back of his neck, allowing his neck to receive the nervous energy he possessed.

'I'm sure she'll like that, Mr. Ralph. I know it gets awfully lonely out there sometimes. Thank you.'

'With that, Mr. David excused himself to finish his errand there at the store, and Ralph looked at Jones to finish his own transaction.

'Can you make a receipt for the corn?'

'Mr. French doesn't trust a cripple, does he now? Trusts you with his daughter but not his money?'

Ralph's face grimaced at Jones' words. The implication his words had for Belle made him want to do to Jones what he had done to Gary, as he was sure it was Gary who had caused such sentiment to be thought of in the first place anyway. Ralph was still certain Belle wouldn't think twice about him, but he hated what they were saying about Belle.

'I would appreciate it written down, Mr. Jones, and for you to refrain from allowing Miss French's name to come out of your mouth.' Outwardly he remained calm, his eyes remaining on Jones' and face steeled to any of the inward shaking that was going on.

'Touchy. Well, well, if Hobblefoot doesn't have a spine to him after 's your receipt, and here's your money.'

Ralph glanced at the number. He expected the amount to be lower than the year before, but this was beyond his figuring.

'This is not the same price as last year.'

'No, the price of corn has gone down.'

'But' His visible nerves returned. For some reason, coming to Belle's aid was easier than asking about a price change in corn. 'We were one of the few farms in the area with a decent crop. What the fire didn't take, I know the drought did. Our corn was all but dead before the fire came.'

'Sorry, but Uncle Sam decided that other countries had cheaper corn than his own farmers. Price is lower this year-this is the price. You can take or leave it.'

Ralph took it. He looked over Belle's list of supplies needed. She was aware that they wouldn't be able to afford as much, but he worried that he would be forced to leave something off. He realized that his percentage of the crop would help cover things needed. He sighed and handed over all but a few dollars to Jones for the supplies that would hopefully get them through the winter and early spring.

David Noland met him outside before he left to go back to the shanty, again promising a visit soon. Ralph turned his wagon towards where he knew the shanty lay. The wheels provided rhythm to the prairie wind's song, while his mind turned over thoughts and plans of the future.

Author's note: This chapter was harder to write, as transitions from action to action usually are for me. However it helps set up some things for the next few chapters and I had to make sure it was all there. I hope you enjoy it! As always, I love hearing what you think. Thanks!