I do not own Once Upon a Time

Warning:minor character death

Chapter 12 Home

It had been a whirlwind of a week for Ralph. His decision to attempt to bring back supplies gave him as much concern as it did Belle, though he tried not to show it. He placed the runners on the wagon with shaking hands and said goodbye to Belle as though it would be the last time he saw her, even as he vowed to return.

'You and every other farmer in the vicinity has wiped me out of all my supplies. As you can see, Hobblefoot.' Jones made a motion with his hands around the shop.

Ralph looked with wide eyes and a sunken heart at the near empty shelves and barrels. What little Jones did have, Ralph gathered, internally hoping that it would be enough to get them through until the trains could bring the tiny town some supplies to last until harvest. Jones almost looked sorry for him and his measly amount obtained, but said nothing but good luck to him as he left the store-the kindest sentiments from the man since he came with nothing to his name except a crippled leg.

The sky was still icy blue, but the temperature had dropped, and there was a slight breeze. Ralph studied the sky, looking for any indicator that there could be trouble ahead. Sure enough, a small, menacing cloud stood out like a sore thumb amidst the clear blue. The blizzards they had that year were very unpredictable, and while he felt like he could make it back before anything kicked up, the solitary cloud and the increasing ache in his leg gave him enough unease to decide to stay. Swallowing any pride left in his body, he turned and reentered the shop.

'The trains haven't come since the five minutes you left.'

Internally rolling his eyes he turned to the sharp blues of the shop owner and made his case.

'I'm worried that the weather is about to turn and I was wondering if I could invade on your hospitality for the night to make sure it's nothing.'

'Are you daft? We haven't seen a clearer sky in days.'

Heart thumping, he shifted his one good leg, and stood straight against his walking stick.

'I have unease, and would rather not risk it.'

'Have it your way. Same arrangement as before?'

Ralph shuddered at Jones' words, memories coming back of the painful nights on the floor and the few crumbs that filled his belly. Ralph nodded and said his thanks for the hospitality.

'Except, I'm afraid, there'll be no extra food for you. I can't be wasting supplies for myself on a person who's too afraid to set out on a clear day like today.'

'I understand.' Ralph responded, though he didn't understand really. If there was someone in need surely he wouldn't hesitate to share with them. And was he being too silly about the whole thing? It was a clear day, except for the one little cloud. Belle would worry about him, and he hated the thought of that. He would hate not making it at all, so he would follow through with his instincts to stay.

Two hours later and the wind had picked up and threw snow against the store. He would have never made it. Even Jones seemed surprised and told him that perhaps he wasn't as stupid as he looked.

The snow and storms didn't let up the next day, nor the day after that. Ralph bought some leftover crackers and random odds and ends that wouldn't have stretched far enough for him to have bought earlier. By the third day Jones felt sorry for him and shared a bit of his food with him. Despite the limp, Ralph spent much of his time pacing and worrying about Belle. She would, of course, believe him dead and frozen in a bank of snow somewhere, and there was no way to reassure her that he was fine. He also worried about the supplies they had at the shanty. It was true they could go a couple of weeks, perhaps, but these blizzards were unpredictable in their duration and frequency.

The howling winds and snow, as well as the lack of goods in the store, kept people from coming, therefore it was just Ralph and Jones there alone.

'You made out pretty good with old French there, I guess. You don't look near as skinny as when you were here and that's even with supplies dwindling, like you said. Good thing I suggested you work there.'

He seemed to desire an answer, so Ralph indulged.

'Aye. I have enjoyed working for Mr. French. He's been very good to me and I quite like working on the farm.'

'And the Miss Belle French isn't bad to look at, either. I know Gary said…'

'I'd rather you not finish that, if you please. Mr. Gary isn't a very respectable man.'

Jones laughed at him. 'And you are, I suppose, Hobblefoot?'

Ralph balled his fist. Living with the French's had made him feel like perhaps he wasn't the failure that so many thought he was. Even if he never felt deserving of Belle, she did see something in him. He could be someone for her.

'The name is Ralph Gold.'

'My word.' Jones chuckled. 'No need for all that now, man. We've got who knows how long until the blizzard quits, and though in your eyes, I imagine I'm not any more respectable than Gary, I'll not throw you out into the snow. Let's see if we can't be cordial for however long we are stuck.'

Ralph conceded. 'Aye, I suppose we can.'

Jones seemed wide eyed and looked at Ralph differently than he had before. Less like a lame dog and more like a man.

The snow was never ending, it seemed, though really it was one of the shorter blizzards. On the sixth day, the sun broke through the clouds. As soon as he woke up to the fire in his leg and silence in the room, he got up and immediately got his wagon ready for the trek back. He thanked Jones and willed the wagon to go faster than it was. The stretch never seemed longer. He looked up from time to time to see if there were any clouds, but the sky remained clear. He shifted in his seat from time to time from the cold, and stopped the horses a couple of times to thaw their noses. Finally, he saw the tiny shanty against the vast prairie.

Almost as soon as he saw the shanty he saw an ever tinier figure getting closer all the time.

Belle.

She was shouting. Shouting his name. Tears were frozen on her beautiful face, tears for him.

He comforted her as best he could, and counted himself the luckiest man in the world to have the care and love of such an amazing person as Belle. When he walked in the shanty, he knew he was the luckiest person in the world, without a doubt. There on the stove were beans-that she had kept warm-for him all this time. His Belle had such faith in him, such hope, and had done this for him.

Mr. French seemed weaker than when he left him, but smiled and said he was happy he was home. He was home.

…

Three years later…

The wagon shifted under the weight of Ralph and Belle's entire life. The bet was won. Uncle Sam was bested, and in Ralph's hand was a wad of cash from the sale of the land to David Noland. He, Belle, and little Rosie would begin a new life in a new place.

Ralph knew Belle had always felt like the Prairie was like a vast prison, the bet forcing them to to remain, often with her staying behind from any opportunity for social activity. Not that she complained, but he saw it in her eyes. The wistful looks towards new adventures, the loving touches she gave the couple of books she owned, wishing she could read more. He saw the way she relished her and Mary Margret's visits. She wished for more, and he wanted to give her the world. Lastly, her father's death the year before brought an additional sorrow to the prairie and erased another reason that they should stay.

Thankfully, over the past three years, the weather had stayed more or less consistent, and he had begun investing in livestock. Now that they were leaving, they had as many livestock coming with them, as they had sold, giving them additional money to begin their new lives. They were traveling south, where the weather was calmer and they were searching where town would be closer. Belle wanted little Rosie to gain an education, and Ralph couldn't agree more.

The past three years they had worked hard. The long cold winter had lasted into the month of May, finally thawing and leaving so many starving and hungry. When he and Belle had married, that June, the blue and white gingham she wore had to be taken up to fit her sunken frame. They had all survived though, and the thought of beginning their lives together gave them the hope to make it through. When the trains came through and supplies came trickling in, their small wedding dinner could have been a thanksgiving feast for how thankful they were for having full bellies and happy hearts at the end. A traveling minister, Mr. French, Mr. and Mrs. Noland were the witnesses to the wedding ceremony, and no group could be happier.

Baby Rosie's giggles interrupted his reverie, and he looked over at Belle hugging her close, stealing a glance back at the shanty that she had called home for over five years.

'Any regrets, my dear Belle?'

'No, I'll miss the Nolands, of course, but as long as we are together, I'm home.' She smiled at him with eyes full of love.

'Let's go home then, Mrs. Gold.'

Authors note: Finished! I really enjoyed researching for this, although, I'm not going to lie, the next story I'm letting it be less work on my part, lol. I might pick up my idea for a money lender in the west story in the future, but I have an idea for a fairy tale land story that I'm hoping to begin...we will see where my brain goes. I will be writing more in the Rumbelle universe, regardless ;)

Hope you enjoyed the story!