I do not own Once Upon a Time

Chapter 8 Refined by Fire

Ralph turned on the straw mattress bed for the seemingly fiftieth time that night and hoped that he wouldn't wake the sleeping French family. His breath had yet to catch up with him and his stomach seemed more in knots now than it did at the moment of confrontation with Gary Gaston.

The man had tried to hurt Belle.

No matter the thanks he had received from Belle or the genuine gratitude he found in her eyes, he couldn't help but feel guilty that he hadn't been there sooner to stop it from happening. If he had only paid more attention to when the man had first shown up, or if he had two good legs that could have walked or even ran quicker, she wouldn't have had to go through the humiliation and attempted overpowering that the man had put her through in the first place. He could still feel her shaking body as she sobbed in his neck. He could still see her arms rubbing at the place where Ralph was certain Gary had grabbed too tightly. He could still see the fear in her eyes.

His own body trembled a bit, revisiting the moment of his blind rage at seeing the man press Belle against the shanty wall and seeing the man tower over her in his own rage. Ralph had just acted, not thought, and his mind didn't come back to rationality until he had seen Gary leave the house. Only then did he see Belle's relief and her father's pride? Ralph's own father had never given him a look of approval or pride, so he wasn't sure if he had translated the look correctly, but it seemed to be one of pride in what Ralph had done. Mr. French had even patted him on the back that evening, once everything had calmed down and told him.

'You did a good thing, Ralphy. A good thing. Perhaps there's a backbone in there after all.' And smiled at him approvingly.

The man had attempted to show pride in the only way he knew how, and he showed Belle comfort in the only way he knew how with a 'There there, Issy' and pats on her back and kisses on her forehead.

All of these thoughts caused a flood of emotions cursed through Ralph's body so that it was hours later before his body succumbed to fatigue.

Over in the partitioned area, Belle was dealing with her own flow of emotions. She loved Ralph. How could she not see it earlier? It hadn't been until she saw the fierce protection he gave her from that awful Gary Gaston that she realized how deep her feelings ran. No one had ever protected her like that. Her own father had never made her feel as safe as she did with Ralph.

Of course, that had been why no young man could excite her, no matter how friendly or sweet they were. That was why she was filled with joy at the end of every snowy ride when the shanty had come back into view and she knew she was back to the cozy familiarity of his company once more. She had always enjoyed his company, but always assumed that was because there were only the three of them. Now she knew that his was the company she enjoyed the most.

He had been her friend for some time, but now she knew it had turned to love, and she wanted only to be courted and pursued by him. He was all kindness, softness, and yet, as the day had proved, he was willing to put himself in danger for her. She didn't know if he returned her affections, and it wouldn't be proper for her to ask, but she allowed the heavy breathing of her father to lull her to sleep as she smiled in hopeful thoughts of the future.

…

After the revelation, Belle had wondered if things would become uncomfortable for her and Ralph, especially for her as she imagined things were one sided. However, nature decided to make things so difficult that it helped keep her more than occupied.

First, it stopped raining. After a beautiful early spring, with the green shoots reaching for the sun, the sun decided to stay for the long haul. Soon they were carrying water and Ralph helped design and implement a rudimentary irrigation system. It bought them some time and they hoped that it meant that it gave the corn enough time to produce. Soon they were worrying over the amount of water they could send as water amounts in the surrounding ponds and small lakes started to go down exponentially.

Before dawn broke, they worked in the oppressive heat, their clothes sticking to their bodies and the world never seemed to cool down enough to allow for decent rest. They were in a fight for survival, and Belle worried at her lips as she saw how little her garden was producing and worried that she would have very little to put up for the coming winter.

Then the sky darkened.

At first they were happy. Rain wouldn't make their corn crop much larger, but it might give some of the other vegetables in the garden enough water for a small harvest and help them make it through the winter. The sky darkened, the thunder started to roll, and wind blasted through the prairie, threatening to shake the house from its firm footing, but there was no rain.

Then they saw the lightning, and the spark, and the coming flame.

'It's a prairie fire.' Papa gasped, as he ran into the shanty, a wide eyed, fearful Ralph trailing behind.

They had seconds to formulate a plan.

'A fire ring sir. Fire'll not pass blackened earth.' Ralph spoke hurriedly, none of his normal reserve peppering the speech. They didn't have time for reserve, they only had time for action.

Papa started plowing a circle as far away from the house and barn as he could. Belle ran to start pouring precious water in the tub, and added wet rags to the water. Ralph helped her carry it to where the ground had been plowed, as best as he could.

The air was suffocating and the smoke filled their lungs and stung their eyes, but they kept going. They were in a battle for their very lives now and neither limp nor smoke could hinder their endeavors. For if they lost this battle, they would die in the next half hour.

Ralph started setting little fires to where the furrows were and Belle went behind him to extinguish them, leaving a black ring in its wake. Papa came to help Belle as soon as he finished plowing. You could hardly hear yourself think. There was only smoke and flames. As the flames licked the ground closer and closer to where they stood, Papa, Ralph, and Belle stood before the wall of fire like warriors with weapons drawn-or in this case, wet rags. The flame attempted to cross the burnt grass but would go no further, but little pockets of flame would find itself puting tiny fires here and there inside the ring. As soon as it happened, the trio were whacking the hot ground with their wet rags.

Then a wonderful thing happened. Already coughing and sputtering, Belle felt something cool and wet on her cheek.

Rain.

Rain in heavy sheets fell down from the heavens and licked up the flames, leaving heavy smoke behind. Ralph smiled through his smoke streaked face, Papa coughed a good deal too much for Belle's liking, and Belle wondered if she looked half as ridiculous as the two of them, but didn't care. She whooped and laughed and did a twirl which produced a beautiful chuckle from Ralph. They won! The fire didn't beat them!

'Praise the good Lord for the rain.' Papa sighed once he got some breath back.

It took a long time for the three to stop coughing. Belle filled the tub once again inside the partition for them to bathe in. No amount of water could take out the smoke that filled every crevice. She imagined that it would take days for the smell to leave, no matter how amazing the rain left things behind. She did sigh and projected her thanks upwards at the thought that at least her garden was inside the ring and some things might make it after all. There was something else to think about though. The corn was gone.

…

'The fire may have given us a blessing, Mr. French.' Ralph attempted. He wanted to squirm in his seat, but since the ordeal with Belle, Mr. French had given him a bit more respect. The man wasn't paternal all told, but his respect was the closest thing to a thank you Ralph expected to receive. It was more than he ever dreamed, so he used the new found blessings when he could.

Mr. French looked up from his pipe, dark rings under his eyes. The man had aged decades in just the few spring/summer months. The lack of rain, fear of no crops, and then the threat of burning to a crisp had left their marks on them all. Even beautiful Belle showed signs of fatigue, and Ralph had a strong desire to cradle her close. He pushed away such thoughts and focused on his conversation with Mr. French.

'What's that, Ralphy? How so?'

'Well.' He swallowed. 'The fire will have burnt everything, but the soil should be easy to plow again. We could use a bit more of the seed corn. We have a solid two months before the first frost and it will allow us to have some sort of harvest, even if it's a smaller one. Summer is just getting going, and if we are diligent, we may have a chance.'

'The seed we have is for winter and next year. I'll not waste it.'

'It's a gamble, sir. There's risk, but a chance at a greater return.'

Mr. French suddenly looked interested in what Ralph had to say, and it was Belle, who was always encouraging him to speak up more, that looked uncomfortable, and her smile faded. He wondered what he had said to cause such a reaction from them, but he was too deep to turn back now.

'It's true that we could be wasting seed corn we need for later, but it could also be the difference between scraping by and being comfortable this winter.'

Mr. French rubbed his face with his pipe as he did when he was thinking.

'There's merit in your words, Ralphy. We would have to get the seed in the ground as fast as possible to have it up before October-if the frost holds out that long. Alright.' He nodded, his determination setting along the rigid lines in his face. 'Let's do that then. Belle, let's get supper on the table soon, we'll need to get to bed quickly so we can have an early start tomorrow.'

Belle went to prepare supper, Ralph getting up to help her, knowing how tired they all were after the trial of the fire. She smiled in thanks for his help, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. Belle's displeasure made him feel more dread than if Mr. French had laughed at his ideas.

The next morning as Belle milked the cow and he tended to the animals, the silence felt stifling. They were usually fairly silent. Ralph had never enjoyed early mornings, as long as he could remember, and the silence he and Belle normally held was companionable instead of awkward. It was another thing he loved about Belle. While so many people wanted to talk just to talk, Belle's conversations held meaning. When she opened her mouth it was to say something of significance. Today though, it felt like there was a gulf that needed to be breached before things could become comfortable again. Ralph had no idea how to broach whatever it was that had happened, but he was thankful when Belle started.

'Papa used to gamble.' The barn was still dark as dawn hadn't quite come yet and smoke was still lingering in the air. The thickness of the darkness around the lanterns didn't help him distinguish the feelings behind the words Belle said, for normally her face was an open book. Then he remembered.

'And I used the word gamble, didn't I.' He replied in understanding at last.

'It's not exactly the same, and I know it must sound silly to get so worked up over semantics, but Papa's record with bets hasn't been a good one. And I, I couldn't help worrying that risking so much over something that could leave us with nothing to continue here might not be a good idea.'

'Your worries aren't silly, Belle.' He quickly assured her, scattering seed for the chickens. 'Is that why he decided to come out here? Bet with Uncle Sam and all that?'

'Partially. I never wanted to come out here, really. If only he would have just stuck with his work-he was a carpenter, fairly good at it was my mother's brothers who farmed. It was them that told him of the prairies of gold in the form of corn. Papa didn't put much stock into such schemes until Mama died and he turned to gambling and lost everything. Papa hasn't met a bet that went his way, and it frightens me daily that this bet with Uncle Sam will be the same.'

'I'm sorry, Belle. And I'm sorry for my words as well. I-I still think this scheme might pay off in our favor, and I'll admit I don't see a good alternative for us to have a comfortable winter, but I am sorry for it all the same.'

Soft pinks seeped into the barn and laced around a smile that formed on Belle's face.

'I know, Ralph, and I think you are probably right. Doesn't mean I don't think about the risk a little more than perhaps I ought. I trust you, Ralph. And if something happens and this doesn't work, don't blame yourself, alright?'

Ralph rubbed the back of his neck, he knew he would feel responsible if the thing flopped regardless, but he felt the warmth of knowing that Belle trusted him. No one had really trusted him before.

'Because as we've seen, nature will have the last say-makes it feel like the game is rigged sometimes.' Belle sighed and picked up the pail half full of milk.

Author's note: If you are familiar with Little House on the Prairie, you will recognize the fire ring scene. It's not stolen from the book, just heavily, heavily influenced by it.
I have researched corn harvesting, acreage, how much time they would have to get a corn crop in, and hopefully it's accurate. I also researched irrigation, and while it looks like more southern states used them (because of unreliable rainfall), there were other farmers who used them as well.
It's funny, but when I was editing this chapter, I decided to see about how many bushels an average acre produced (for an upcoming chapter) and lo and behold, in 1881 (which would be a good estimate of when this takes place) the average return was down! I did know that the 80s/90s saw a decrease in returns because of drought, grasshoppers, and so on, which is why I included one here.
Enough historical nerdiness! I appreciate feedback so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It may be a couple of days before the next update, but I assure you, it's being worked on as we speak.