Author's note1: I do not own Once Upon a Time
FYI, I am loosely basing this around 1880s Nebraska. 'Loosely' being the key word here! As I said before, please forgive any inaccuracies you may come across.

If you are curious about the 'bet with Uncle Sam', you can search 'Homesteader's Act of 1862' and find out more!

Chapter 3 Sowing Seeds

The sky was just throwing a light shade of pink when Ralph opened his eyes. At first he wondered where he was. He wasn't in the store, that was for certain. In fact, he was laying on hay, with a cow bellowing out commands to be milked. Chickens clucked below him and a rooster's crow could be heard right outside the walls of the barn. No, he wasn't with Jones anymore, he was on the French claim and he just heard the rattle of the barn doors to show someone coming in. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm the wildness of it as he saw the slightest outline of a skirt, and tiny hands grasping a lantern.

She looked up at him and her eyes smiled.

'Hope I didn't wake you, I know you must be tired from your travels, yesterday. I've just come to feed the animals and milk Blakey here.'

He didn't exactly know what to say, and he wished he did. She didn't seem to require an answer and after she had set out seed for the chickens and hay for the horses and cows, she went to grab a three legged stool that sat in the corner of the barn. The warm spring light was slowly seeping into the barn as she continued to milk. He could hear the constant swishing as the milk made contact with the bucket, and he didn't know how long he sat and watched her brown skirt fanning out from her knees, her hair done in a braid down her head, and her shoulders covered in a knitted shawl, but he knew that the staring was probably for too long. He stood up to brush any stray hay off his shirt and trousers, and attempted to smooth down the quilt to make his area more presentable.

While her back was still turned to him, he gracelessly maneuvered down the ladder.

'Can I help you with anything, Miss Belle?'

'I expect Papa will be dishing out the chores he'll have you do from now on.' She said, not breaking the consistent squeeze and pull of the milking. 'But if you'll gather the eggs for me, I would be much obliged. The basket is hanging beside the door.'

He limped towards where she spoke and found the basket. The nests were fashioned on the edge of the wall, directly under his loft, and he balanced himself carefully, not wanting to drop a single egg. Six eggs were gathered that morning, and he hoped that was good. Belle finished milking and walked up to him.

'If you'll follow me, there's coffee still hot on the stove and I'll have pancakes ready and waiting as soon as you're done.' Dawn had allowed him to see the full effects of her smile, and he nodded.

'Thank you.' He attempted to smile back at her and followed her at a short distance to the shanty.

The smell of strong coffee filled his nostrils, and he saw Mr. French sitting and drinking the said liquid and peering over what looked to be an almanac. Miss Belle had already arranged their beds in a pleasing fashion, had coffee going, and soon whipped up a bowl of batter, ready for a hot cast iron skillet. Seeing Belle's industriousness so early in the morning worried him that he had slept too late. Mr. French said nothing about it, but looked up once Ralph had set down the basket of eggs and took the other mug on the table and poured himself a cup. He had thankfully gotten used to the heavily caffeinated beverage while working in the railroad camp or he would have sputtered out the bitter liquid. He instead drank it quietly and glanced occasionally at Belle flipping the pancakes and stacking them on a tin plate.

'Issy insisted that she feed the animals this morning and let you sleep, but from now on I want you to do that. She'll continue to milk Blakey, as I don't think the dumb animal will let anyone else near her.'

Belle had a pleased smile at the compliment, and he was amazed once again at Belle's kindness in letting him sleep in, yet berated himself for doing so.

'After that we'll have breakfast and work in the fields for the day. Think you can manage laying down corn seed?' The question wasn't one he felt he could deny. He wasn't asking if he was able, he was telling him that it was the least he could do, and he had better do it.

'Yes sir.'

'Issy has been helping me with it, but she can work on the house garden. It'll be nice to have fresh vegetables again.' Mr. French sighed.

'Won't be long.' Belle interjected. 'The good Lord willing, we'll have plenty to can and dry, so we won't have a winter like this past year.' Belle shivered at the memory and Ralph wondered, but didn't ask what hardships they had faced.

'I don't have enough money to lease any fancy equipment, so we will be doing it all the way of the past. It's hard work and I expect you to do everything possible to help, understand?'

'Yes sir.' Ralph nodded.

They left Belle to clean up and eat her own food, and head out to the field for Ralph to plant behind Mr. French's tilled rows. It was monotonous, grueling work. It wasn't difficult, in fact, on most farms the children did the sowing. Though he was small, he was still quite a bit taller than a child, and his leg protested at every bend he made. He felt the whole day should have passed, but he assumed it was only a couple of hours later, Belle appeared with a pitcher of cool water. She must have been working in her garden, as there were traces of dirt on her arms and cheeks. She looked tired, herself, but only met them with smiles and laughter. She worriedly looked down at his leg and he reddened in shame that his pain was so obvious.

Her stiff brown dress and red apron tails were caught by the wind and he sighed as he watched her go back to the shanty. Mr. French grunted, said something about being too old for this grueling work, and Ralph wondered, not for the first time, why in the world someone in their older age, like French, who had to be at least 60 years old, with such a tiny, young thing like Belle had decided to take Uncle Sam's bet to beat the odds against nature and pestilence to make a way for themselves in the unforgiving prairie lands. Mr. French, he felt, could have been a respectable man in the east. Belle should be spending her days bossing around maids, instead of spending every waking second working.

Ralph, on the other hand, always knew his fate was to be a useless nobody. His father had made that plain to him since he was born. His mother had passed away before he could remember if she loved him or not, and his father called 'Ralphy boy' the wiry runt of the litter. His father's alcohol induced cruelty had led him, at the age of 20, to run away from their sheep farm. He had worked and saved for just enough for a passage to America, the land of opportunity. It was boasted as a fresh start to anyone who could work hard enough to make a way for themselves.

So, he had worked. Worked any odd job anyone would let him have. When he saw the advertisement to work in the Railroad camp to receive $50 a month as well as food, he jumped at the chance to see the states and perhaps find a place to eventually come back to and settle down. Two months. Two months and his life came crashing down, and any money he had received went to the dear lady that had attempted to nurse him. With those unhappy thoughts in mind, he leaned down and put more kernels in the ground.

…

'I'm too old for this, Ralphy boy.' She had heard her father under his breath as she left to go back to the shanty.

She was quite glad that her Papa had some help now, she had been so worried for him, and knew that this bet of theirs wouldn't be an easy win. Not that any of Papa's bets in the past had worked out to his benefit. She was also glad that the poor crippled man had at least a roof and food-she would make sure of that. He seemed kind enough, and she hated that she almost had feelings of jealousy as she watched her Papa give instructions to Ralph on how to space out the corn. Papa could be condescending, but he was like that with her as well, his own child. Calling him Ralphy boy had sealed it for her.

She slumped her shoulders, determined not to let it cloud her day, nor her view of the man, Ralph-or even of her father. She hoped that Ralph didn't allow Papa's tones to get him down, perhaps she should tell him what her suspicions were about his decision to take him on.

She focused on making as hearty a meal out of their meager rations as she could, to give them all some stamina for the work ahead. She called the men and noticed that Ralph made sure to keep an eye on the number of cornbread muffins that were left, so she would have plenty to eat. That made her smile and she assured him that she had made plenty.

'Did you get a lot done this morning, since you didn't have to help your old Papa out today, my girl?'

'Yes sir. I finished the trelesis, and planted the tomatoes, squash and beans. How was your morning?'

She glanced over at Ralph for a second, trying to gain from his looks how he thought the day had gone. He was so quiet, but not empty. His eyes, when they would briefly meet hers, told of thoughts in constant motion. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but also didn't want to pry. She had a long time to figure him out, she could wait until he wanted to talk to her. Papa answered for them.

'Weather is holding and warm. The frost good and gone, so we shouldn't have to worry about that. Ralphy boy, here, isn't too bad. A little slow, but with the.' Here he pointed to Ralph's stick by the shanty door. 'And all that's not surprising. He'll get better and quicker, won't you, boy?'

His eyes were so wide and quiet, and Ralph just nodded in agreement, with a whisper of 'Yes sir.'

He looked like a child who had been scolded by an overbearing parent. Yes, she needed to tell him.

The afternoon went much like the morning, and another pan of beans was ready for the men once they had washed up for the evening. It was almost pleasant to have a third in their company. Not being as dead on his feet, but still looking tired and a little pained, Ralph stayed with them into the evening as they took a little rest. Evening was Belle's favorite part of the day. She got out her copy of Tennyson from the basket by her bed. She lovingly stroked it, as she was apt to do whenever she felt her mother's death most keenly. She turned to the last poem she had read to her father, stuck her finger in the book, but walked over where Ralph was sitting.

'Can you read, Ralph?'

She tried not to make the question sound accusatory or demeaning. She just wanted to know, she was just curious, and curiosity was ever her constant companion, to her father's ire. Ralph's big brown eyes shot up in surprise, but softened once he heard no malice in her tone.

'Aye' Ralph said softly, so soft she almost would have wondered if he had answered, had she not seen his mouth move.

'Would you mind reading to us? I have some mending I would like to do, and it will help the time go by much more pleasantly.' Papa had already leaned back in his chair, puffing on the pipe with half closed eyes, the lines in his forehead told her that he was back home, back to the place they had left, the place they had to leave. She knew the reading would soothe his aching soul, but as much as she would love nothing more than to idly read the evening away, there was the mending to do, and it would give Ralph some purpose, rather than the fiddling he was doing with his ragged shirt.

'Aye, I can do that ma'am'

'Belle'

'Miss Belle, I can do that Miss Belle. Might you tell me where you are, or what poem you would like to hear?'

That being almost as much as she had heard him speak thus far, she smiled at him and showed him where she held the pages- The Lady of Shalott.

His Scottish brogue carried her far away as she went about mending. Not only were his eyes full of thought, his voice held intelligence too. When he finished she looked up and smiled and he graced her with a side sheepish smile. Papa told them it was enough of that rubbish which gave Ralph the hint it was time for his trek to the barn.

Belle sighed with light satisfaction as she lay listening to the night sounds. The prairie seemed not so large that night. For the first time since they had arrived Belle wondered if they might actually win that bet, now that they had someone else helping them win.

Author's note2: A bit more character establishment before we get into some action. I have some scenes that I am itching to write, so I promise that our characters will be doing things soon! Let me know what you think! Reviews make my day!