I do not own Once Upon a Time

Chapter 5 The Harvest Is Plentiful

The rain was soft, and not as consequential as the last one, of that they could be thankful. What followed were weeks of sweltering heat. It rained just enough for the crop to survive, and the summer months made way for harvest. From sunup to sun down the three of them worked to make use of everything the land gave them. Belle sweated over cans of produce, hung things to dry, and stored things in the small root cellar.

Together they cut hay and laid it out to dry then stacked for the winter months ahead. Corn was eventually ready to be harvested, and Belle joined the men as they gathered the harvest. Once all the corn was gathered, the land was made ready for winter wheat. As tired as they were, Papa hummed as he walked in from a day's work, knowing that every ear they harvested was one step closer to a better winter. Even Ralph's eyes smiled behind his exhaustion. Evening reading and mending had been put on hold as other chores either gave them little time in the evenings at all, or they were so tired that they immediately headed for their beds.

It was a good year, and made better by the efforts of Ralph Gold.

'Papa?' She told herself that she could be brave. Brave for the man who had made such a difference in their year. Ralph had gone to the barn that night, tired from the harvest's exertion. She knew the loft was getting cramped with the produce ready to be traded for money to buy supplies.

'Mmmmm' her father grunted in acknowledgement

'I know you and Ralph agreed to food and shelter in exchange for his help here.'

'For a cripple boy, not a bad exchange, all told.'

Belle cringed a little. She hated to hear Ralph be called 'boy', when she knew how much he hated it-even more so when her father called him a cripple, as if that was all he was. It would do no good to argue, so she continued.

'I think so too, Papa. He's been such a help. I-I don't think we could have done it without him. What do you think about paying him a little out of the harvest?'

For a minute, Belle wondered if her father had even heard her. He just sat, staring into the darkness of the shanty walls.

'That wasn't the arrangement, Issy girl.'

'I know, I just thought…'

'I'll think about it… I'll think about it.'

That was not a no, so she smiled and sank onto the mattress.

Belle knew how hard Ralph had worked despite his injury, in fact, over the weeks he was there, he had found work arounds that helped him to do just as well as a person with two good legs, most of the time. He had worked so hard, knowing that the only thing he could expect in return was plain food and a barn for shelter. She wanted to return that kindness so badly, and hoped her father saw fit to give him a little compensation for his role in their survival.

…

Belle's eyes narrowed in concentration, and her teeth bit at her lower lips as she scribbled a list for them as they headed to town. She really was beautiful. Over the past months he had gotten to know a little of the tiny, blue eyed beauty, and the more he knew her, the more in love with her he became. And who could blame him? He would truly have to not be a man at all to deny all her wonderful attributes. She was kind to him when he had done nothing to deserve it, she could calm her gruff father's nerves with a single look or touch, she could make delicious meals out of little or much, she made a tiny shanty feel like a cozy, welcoming home, and she had the brightest, bluest eyes he had ever seen in his entire life. And while he knew it was all one sided, and a person such as Belle would never think about him in that way, it didn't stop his own thoughts from imagining and wishing.

His thoughts were interrupted by Belle handing off the piece of paper to her father and pleading with him to remember each item. Ralph wished Belle was the one going with them, as he felt like she hurt for good company (for God knew how little his company counted for anything). Mr. French had insisted on his going, and since in the man's own words Ralph 'didn't have a backbone', he followed her father to the wagon to once again make the long trek back into town, praying that Belle stayed safe as they left her behind.

The wagon was full of all the corn and other items that were sent to trade. Ralph was much better at maneuvering with his bad leg, and had earned a spot next to Mr. French for the duration of the trip. The heaviness of the wagon helped it not to jolt about quite so much, but still each bump and moan sent pain through his leg. He bit the insides of his cheek as he kept any painful wince from the knowledge of Mr. French. He had learned from the man that to show pain was weakness, and since he still wanted to remain at the French claim, he kept any hurting to himself.

Mr. French was slightly more talkative this time. And as with all his other communication thus far, it was simple, shallow remarks on the crops, how long Belle's list was, if they should change any tactics they had used that year and other such things.

'I think we'll make a good return on this here.' He commented, flicking his thumb backwards to the loaded wagon. 'I plan to add on to the shanty before winter, as I imagine the barn might get a little chilly for such a skinny thing as yourself.'

'T-Thank you sir.' He answered. Mr. French rarely gained more from him than a 'yes sir', 'no sir' (always in agreement to whatever Mr. French said.) or a 'Thank you sir.' This time it was truly out of gratitude, instead of appeasement. It would be nice to sleep in a place that didn't smell like manure. He only hoped Belle's privacy wouldn't be too encroached upon.

'And I imagine that you'll be needing a bit more than just food and shelter.' Mr. French sighed, his shoulders slumping over as he held the reins loosely in his hands. ' I'm agreeing to offer you a little in exchange for your work-not much mind you, but enough for you to have for your own.' Ralph's eyes got big at this revelation.

'And perhaps, once this season is over, we'll discuss a new deal, alright? Let's see how much we get from this, and I can figure out a good percentage.'

'Thank you so much sir.' His voice betrayed every bit of feeling and gratefulness he felt. He never expected more than the original bargain.

'You have Issy to thank for it. The little woman thinks we couldn't have managed without you.' He chuckled more at Ralph and possibly Belle's notions than out of true good naturedness. 'She's always full of opinions that one. Soft the girl is, like her mother' He breathed in. 'But can't say as I don't halfway agree with Issy's assessment. You didn't do too bad for a cripple.'

'Thank you sir.'

Ralph only just heard anything that was being said other than that the gift of money was Belle's idea and that she thought that they wouldn't not have managed without him. That meant one thing. One very important thing to Ralph.

Belle didn't think he was useless.

If his leg would have let him, and Belle's father wasn't right there he might have whooped and hollered and danced. As it was, he was smiling. To his father he was a worthless runt, to Jones he was hobblefoot, and to Mr. French he was alright for a cripple, but to Belle he was an essential part of the success of the claim. If she thought he wasn't useless and with a percentage of the harvest in the future, then maybe, maybe…

But he wouldn't let his mind wonder like that. No. But he did know one thing. He wanted to do something to thank Belle.

His stomach flopped as the town came into his line of sight. Jones would be there, and according to the wagon tied to the post in front, there would be others there too. He limped to follow Mr. French inside once he got there.

'Mr. French!' Jones called from the back of the store. He walked towards them and glanced out of his door at the French wagon laden with corn. 'Good harvest I see.'

'The Good Lord has seen fit to bless us this year with good weather for it.'

'That he has, that he has. Now, the going rate for corn right now is 39 cents a bushel, and if Hobblefoot here will be so kind as to help us' His voice was anything but asking him or insinuating that such a thing would be a kindness. ' we can get those bushels in here and I can get you squared away. Come along Hobblefoot.' Ralph cringed as two other young men in the store chuckled to themselves as they watched him limp along. He hated the mocking glances, and he knew it wouldn't get any better as he attempted to bring in the load.

The three of them brought in the corn and Jones handed French his money. In exchange, French showed Jones the list that Belle had made.

At some point Mr. French had turned and slipped Ralph a small wad of change. For the first time since his accident, there was something to the name of Ralph Gold. Not much, but something. Ignoring the glances, he made his way to a darkened corner and counted the change. He closed his eyes and tried to think about how much it would cost to travel back to a larger town, if he ever needed it to start over again. He put the estimated amount to the side and looked at how much he had left. He started scanning the store for it. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he hoped he would know it when he saw it.

There it was.

Laying on top of the mounds of fabric, was a blue and white gingham fabric. When he saw it, he could see Belle's eyes. He knew fabric for a new dress wasn't on her list for her father. Cotton and flannel for her father a couple of new shirts for the winter, were there, he had seen it in her loopy script, but nothing for herself. He shifted in the very trousers of her father's that she had carefully taken in and then presented to him to replace the rags that his old trousers had become. Still a bit loose, they were held up by a pair of brown suspenders. He was still a skinny looking thing, he knew, but at least his trousers didn't make him look like a ragged destitute. Once again, it was thanks again to Belle. With that in mind, he fingered the material, swallowed and waited for Jones to finish gathering things for Mr. French before meekly seeking his attention.

'Blue Gingham?'

Ralph nodded.

'Besotted, aren't you, hobblefoot? Can't say I blame you.' Jone's voice was quiet enough, and he prayed Mr. French couldn't hear. 'The girl is gorgeous, ya lucky thing, getting to look at her every day. How the boys around here wish the old man would bring her into town. Saw her once when they obtained their claim, and let's just say she's got the highest claim to beauty around here. The rest are dogs in comparison.'

Ralph felt very uncomfortable with the discussion and almost bolted out of the store. He swallowed again and kept his stance. Jones didn't notice his displeasure and leaned towards him, whispering to keep his words from French and making it look like they were conspiratorial friends.

'Word of advice, Hobblefoot. Did you see those two boys in here earlier? Each has their own farms, better off than French himself and both have an eye on your little beauty. They both have two good legs a piece, something to offer her. Mark my words, come winter, little Miss Issy French will have her pick of beaus. They'll be lining up to court her, might even throw my hat in the ring. Wouldn't mind a pretty little thing for a wife, even if she hasn't got anything to her name. What do you have? A busted leg, no prospects, and blue gingham?' He laughed, causing Mr. French to look their way for a moment, and Ralph shifted again on his good leg,he knew his cheeks were on fire, his throat tight and his stomach was laced with anxiety.

His stomach wouldn't settle the entire way back. Mr. French had seen his purchase, and he was worried that he had heard Jone's words as well. The man stayed silent most of the way back and wasn't even attempting the shallow conversation that had been spoken on the way there. He would just glance at him as if Ralph had suddenly grown a second head, or become a different person entirely.

Ralph both dreaded and ached to see the little shanty against the rolling prairie. Too soon, and not soon enough he could see it against the setting sun.

'Isabelle!' Mr. French hollered out, much like he had before when Ralph had first arrived. Ralph was again nervous to arrive but for completely different reasons. He kept his package hidden under the wagon seat while he helped the other two unload. Belle was happy and bright as she helped them unload. She hummed beautiful notes and Ralph dearly wished he could just sit and listen and watch her. He also wished she wouldn't exert herself, and cursed his bad leg that made him less than completely able to help her like he ought.

Once finished, Mr. French turned to wash up for dinner. Belle was about to follow.

'Miss French?'

'Belle' Her blue eyes scolded lightly in the lantern light.

'Belle?'

'Yes, Ralph?' She smiled, and his good leg threatened to buckle beneath him. Grow a backbone, boy.

He pulled out his arm that had been behind his back and placed a white papered package in Belle's hands. He could hear the rattle of the paper as his hands shook with nerves.

'F-For you, if you-um-if you'll have it.'

Belle carefully unfolded the stark white paper and gasped when she pulled out the blue checkered gingham and white lace trim he had paired with it.

'For me?'

'Is it alright? The color okay? Right material?' The questions just spilled out of his mouth, terror that she might reject it or throw it in his face. That he might have misjudged the color, that he was a crippled fool-well, that would be true regardless.

'It's beautiful, Ralph! Thank you so much.' And her eyes were bright and a tear escaped-one of joy so clearly written on her face. Ralph was beaming back.

'But you shouldn't have done all this for me. You've little enough as it is.'

'Wanted to.' He insisted, the joy in the gift giving him a bit of courage. 'You've been very kind and I-I wanted to thank you.'

'Well, thank you. This is wonderful.' And she smiled again at him before they headed towards the house for dinner.

That night as he listened to the animal noises and ignored the aching in his leg, he sighed and smiled over Belle's reaction. Jones was most likely correct. It would be two months before the snow would cause their chores to lessen a bit and encourage those with good horses and sleds to attempt the miles to the French claim to take Miss French for a ride. Two months before Belle would see able bodied men with prospects. For now, he would enjoy her smiles and the kindness that was directed towards him. He could be happy and imagine a future that included her. He would enjoy the next months while he could.

Author's note: I am not sure how culturally appropriate them extending the shanty to include Ralph is. I've been trying my very best to research each thing to make sure it's as accurate as possible. In the Little House books, Laura stays with a family and there is a partition around the family's bed. I am hoping to do something like this. French views Ralph as more of a son figure, and him being a cripple makes him not think much about the propriety of the situation, I think.
I will be keeping this rated PG, so it will be all proper. I just didn't quite know what to do with Ralph in the winter, and so created this scene. Please forgive any inaccuracies that occur.
Thank you so much for reading! Comments make me happy, and if you can, I would love to hear what you think!