A Home in Which To Die

Chapter Two

Aftermath

Monday, October 13, 1896

The next day was clear and bright. The sun shone through the window of the kitchen, the same window which Gemma had tried to clear of the frost on the day before. She opened her eyes to see the front room of the cold cabin.

Afraid the fire had gone out, she sat up to see the fire place had still just one small log left, half burned, smoldering in a little pile of warm red coals. She could feel her night gown, chilled from the cold air on her shoulders.

Quickly, she pulled the quilts up over her head.

It felt good to warm her hair and clothes before having to rush over to the fire, set a few pieces of kindling over the hot spot, and blow into the hot coals to bring up flames. It was her responsibility to build up the fire in the morning.

The coolness of her hair soothed her face and neck. She tried to imagine her father's warm hand on her forehead as he would smile and say, "I think this young lady needs to get some more sleep."

He would gently stroke her hair and face before he'd go and build up the fire for her.

She managed to hold back a sob as she tried to envision the wood box to see which piece of wood to set atop the sticks that she would place on the hot spot to avoid having to stand and blow on it, to get it to light.

If it would not readily burst into flames, she thought of the consolation of feeling the heat flowing off the hot coals onto her face and having to quickly pull the strands of her hair out of the way to avoid...

Her thoughts trailed off as she fell back to sleep.

On the the day before, she had done all she could to help her mother cope with the stress of not coming apart at the seams.

The neighbors had all been so kind and thoughtful. There were so many they had never known too well who had brought food and all the love that they had to give, not to mention those they simply had not even met, until then.

The Carltons were the only family with which the Evans' had had more than a passing acquaintance. They had gone to Denver, three days earlier, and were not scheduled to return for at least another two weeks.

Robert Carlton had a large apple orchard and a big white house, about a half mile to the east on the way into town. He and his family had become close friends with the Evans' ever since they had met.

One evening, Ben had broken the front right axle on his buckboard out in front of the Carlton's house.

Since some snow had begun to flurry about, Mr. Carlton and his two teenage sons rushed out to the wagon to help get the Evans into the house while he and Ben worked to get the buckboard into the barn.

Robert's wife, Hanna was holding their two week old daughter, Janna. As she greeted them at the door, she could see that Joan would be having herself another child, soon enough.

While the women were getting on as well as they were, Ben was very impressed with Rob, as he was called by his friends. He took off his belt, buckled it onto the axle at the diagonal break, rejoined it with a tug, and said, "Brrr... Let's get this thing into the barn.

Inside the house, Richard, who was 15, and Danny, almost 14, were busy showing Gemma and Jimmy every secret that their large house contained.

The men worked, the women talked, and the children played.

Everyone had a great time, although, it is doubtful that hide-and-seek will ever again be allowed inside the house. It seems that Jimmy bumped into a table just a mite too hard while running from Danny and began to cry for a short time. That was the end of that.

Aside from a slight crush that Gemma had had for Rick, things began to grow from there.

A Rude Awakening

Gemma was dreaming that she was back in Nantucket talking to an harpoonist from a whaling ship who had a patch over his left eye and tattoos up and down his forearms.

She already had ascertained that he was not a pirate, but was quite annoyed when he ignored her question about how a whale felt when he was killed.

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of her father.

"Daddy, daddy.", she thrilled.

He smiled and walked toward her down the hill, behind their cabin near Mancos. His large chest shook as he hurried down to her.

He slowed up and stopped about five feet from her, put his hands on his knees, and looked attentively at her.

She seemed a little distressed. "I couldn't see the hatchet near the wood box, daddy. Have you seen it?", she asked, almost fearfully.

Quite relieved, he said, "Oh, I left it up in the out-house. Had it in my hand, outside of the shop, and I just didn't put it down, until I got there. Sorry, Gemma."

"Gemma,...Gemma." Her mother who was washing up the breakfast dishes seemed a little irritated. "Gemma, will you pick up the bits off of the rug? I'd like for this place to look more presentable, for the bishop's coming in a little while. And, could you sweep in front of the fire? I've started it for you, and I'm afraid that I've spilled a few ashes. Please, dear?"

Gemma roused herself out of bed. "Alright." She groaned. "I'm sorry that I've slept so long." She had rolled out from beneath her quilts and stood on the cold wood floor. Her head spun a little and she sat back down on her bed.

A Friendly Face

Her mother shook the water from her hands into the sink, dried them off, came over to Gemma, and sat next to her.

Joan had a blank expression on her face until she looked at Gemma, tried to smile, took her in her arms, and cried quietly.

Gemma held her mother tightly and began to cry, herself.

There was a knock at the door and Joan got up so quickly and started towards the door that Gemma almost fell over.

And, they laughed at the fact, until Joan opened the door and looked into the bishop's face.

Bishop Johnson was so perplexed and embarrassed that, as he took off his hat, his balding scalp was as red as his face.

He was a little more than six foot tall with light brown hair, greying temples and side burns. In spite of his rugged appearance, he had a neatly trimmed mustache and a very clean shaven face.

"Mrs. Evans?", asked the large burley man. "I am Carl Johnson. I'm the bishop of the Mancos ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, over there in Webber. Doctor Bingham has told me about your husband's accident. I'm very sorry, ma'am. I'd like to offer you my help. If I may?"

Joan was quite enchanted with him. She smiled and said, "How do you do, Mr. Johnson? Your son came over, earlier on. He mentioned that you would call. We are very thankful, sir, or, bishop. What shall I call you?" Joan lowered her eyes to see him handing her a soup pot covered with a beautifully embroidered dish towel and, in the other hand, a full burlap sack and his hat.

"You don't have to call me bishop, Mrs. Evans." He grinned, "That's just my church title. My wife made a loaf of bread, some home-made butter, and some chicken soup. She thought you might like to have it for lunch."

He joggled the sack, he'd been holding. "And, these are some potatoes and carrots I got out of the root cellar,... for you."

A strong breeze blew the door past his face and onto his arm.

Joan gently pushed the door open, "Please forgive me. Do come in, bishop." She turned and slightly changed her tone. "Gemma, will you please take this lovely soup and put it on the table. Come in, bishop. Please, sit if you will, over here in the large chair." She motioned with her hand toward Ben's chair.

He stepped onto the floor and swung up the heavy sack to his waist level. "Where would you have me put these, ma'am?" Sensing that she might try to put them away herself, he groaned, "This is almost too heavy for me."

He carefully walked past Joan, set the sack next to the sink, turned to her, and quietly asked, "Is this alright?"

"Oh, that will be fine. And, thank you for your kindness.

"And, will you thank your wife for this bread and this soup?" She took the soup and bent over to smell. "Ah, this is heavenly. Thank you."

"Gemma, please get some bowls to have this soup." Joan looked up into his face to see that it had a rather blushed and anxious appearance. "Would you like to have something to eat with us, Mr. Johnson?"

Gemma hurried to get a large bowl over to him.

"Why, thank you very much, but I had my fill before leaving the house. Marjorie, uh, that's my wife, she doesn't let me leave the table 'til I've eaten every bite." Carl Johnson looked down to the floor and smiled.

"Sure, and I bet that she doesn't", Joan said playfully. " She just wouldn't want her husband blowin' away in the wind."

He patted himself on his large belly and chuckled, "Not too much chance of that."

Gemma began to slice the warm loaf of bread for their lunch. She cut one of the slices in half for Jimmy, who protested, "It's been cut, already".

So, as she buttered them, she sat the two halves next to one another on a plate as though they were one piece, joined them seamlessly with butter, and handed him a small bowl of soup. She gestured with her eyes and a turn of her head toward the bread on the plate.

He smiled, pleased that she had catered to him, sat down on the kitchen chair, put the bowl between his knees, and took a bite of a half slice of bread.

"This is my thirteen-year old, Gemma." Joan's brighter mood had begun to dissolve, realizing the purpose of his visit. Nonetheless, she put on a good face and Gemma didn't seem to notice her angst.

"Hello, brother Johnson." Gemma proudly displayed her grasp of mormon vernacular. She liked Carl, and had so for some time as she had observed his treatment of his own children.

"Hello, young lady.", he beamed. He had seen Gemma before, leaving the schoolhouse, and had been told by her teacher, Miss Jensen that as a result of Gemma's example her schoolmates were all a little more polite. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Joan interjected, "And, this is Jimmy. He's..."

"I'll be four on thursday.", Jimmy proudly interrupted.

"Well, it's sure nice to meet you, too.", the bishop said. "My father's name is Jimmy. He used to live in Salt Lake City."

"My daddy's name was Ben. He used to live in Port Tabbot. My mommy said so." Jimmy reared his head back, triumphantly.

"That's Port Talbot, Wales. Jimmy." Joan looked over at Gemma, wondering if the young girl had tried to explain things that she, herself, had not felt he could understand.

Able to perceive Mrs. Evans' attitudes towards protecting her children from some of the harsher realities, the bishop carefully intimated that he'd like to speak to Joan more privately by asking to see her husband's work shop and the furnaces that Ben had planned to use in his work. "If you'll be willing to explain to me the process, I may be able to find someone for you to hire who could do this kind if work, if you would like, ma'am."

Joan quickly picked up on Carl's intentions, and cheerfully replied, "Yes, of course".

"Gemma, will you please see that your brother finishes his soup? And, if the baby should awaken, there's a warm bottle of milk in that pan on the stove."

"Yes, mother."

She wanted to go along, but sensed that there were things the adults had wanted to discuss that they'd rather Jimmy didn't hear.

Gemma was pleased as she reflected upon her mother's expression of subtly wrinkling her nose. A look so often directed toward her father, that meant, 'You understand. Don't you, dear?' It suddenly caused Gemma to feel stronger and more mature, all in one glance. She began, slowly and quietly, to sip her soup as an example to her brother.

Jimmy carefully imitated her, making an occasional, corner of the eye, reference.

Joan and the bishop cautiously made their way around to the base of the small hill upon which the work shop had been built.

As they climbed the steps that Ben had made out of old railroad ties, Carl began to explain why he had said that the only real expense would be for the internment casket.

"Well, this morning, my oldest son, Rodney took two of my other sons, Greg and Kib out to the cemetery to meet my first and second councilors in the bishopric, Dan Abrams and Thomas Owens, to clear off the snow and build a fire on the burial plot that the church has donated to your family, ma'am, so they can start to dig before one or two o'clock, this afternoon. And, today being saturday, and all, I think that there may be a few more men from the area that may show up to help finish the grave before nightfall." He turned his head for having said the word grave.

"Surely, I'll have to pay the mortician for proper internment preparations.", she said anxiously.

"As far as the mortician is concerned, Terrence Bennet is not a member of our church, but I have spoken with him this morning and he's agreed that it might be a nice thing for him to provide his services, for that fifteen dollars he's never paid to your husband. Remember that large plate glass window Ben fabricated and installed for Mr. Bennet? Well, I do." Carl grinned and seemed very pleased with himself for having orchestrated these particulars, so thoughtfully.

"And, with your permission, I would be very privileged and honored to oversee moving Ben from the doctor's place over to Bennet's funeral parlor, this evening, for preparations. Would that be alright, ma'am?"

Joan was silent while she took in all that he had said. She struggled with the bolt on the top of the shop door and, just as Carl began to offer to help, she unlatched it.

Meekly, she allowed him to pull open the tall, snow blocked, plank door. She slipped in ahead of him to get a look at the shape of things.

As he poked in his head, his large western-style hat toppled to the floor. Joan turned, picked it up, and, handing it to him, she asked, "Would we have to join your church, you're doing all this for us?"

He chuckled and pushed his way in, and chuckled some more.

"No-ho-ho, ma'am. No that's not at all why we folks are doing this. It's because we loved Ben so much. Actually, it is its own reward. Besides, it's what we believe that we should do for all men. It's just a great deal easier to do for Ben and his family. 'Do not even the publicans the same?'"

This phrase was familiar to Joan. She loved the bible. "Ah, Matthew 5:46. Of course. And, how about verse 48? 'Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.' I haven't met a theologian, yet who could reconcile with that."

"Well, I don't really consider myself to be much of a theologian, ma'am. The best I can do is refer to something that the late Brigham Young said, 'Be ye therefore as perfect as ye can be, even as perfect as your Father which is in heaven is as perfect as he can be.' I hope that I've quoted President Young correctly." the Bishop said, respectfully.

"Oh, that sounded fine. I liked that." Joan smiled and looked off into the distance, momentarily. "I mean, I don't know how it was that your Brigham Young put it, but what you've just said made a lot of sense to me. Thank you. I've been pondering that for quite some time." She smiled, again.

"I really must give credit to our late president Young, ma'am. It was he who was inspired to say it."

Carl was looking down, pushing a small stone back and forth, when he continued, "When you folks moved here this spring, there were some boys from Cortez that liked to ride their horses clear out to Webber, just to throw rocks at us. Well, they broke out a small window pane in my daughter, Becky's bedroom. I hope you'll forgive me, but I'm afraid I'm guilty of standing outside for a few minutes, shaking my fist, and shouting at them as they rode off.

"That was when I met your husband. I had heard of him from some of your neighbors who helped build your cabin.

"Well, I was heading on down to the lumber yard to ask if anyone knew who might have some extra window glass, and I was still just cussin' at those boys from Cortez. Ben came out of the door and asked me what was the matter.

"Well, I explained it to him. And, he told me that he had to take his lumber home and that he'd be right back to fix it if I'd show him where I lived. I pointed down the street and just said, "the yellow one". Then I went into the lumber yard and talked to Royce Barber about how mad I was for having to take a trip into Durango, just to get them to cut just one little piece of glass. And, when I went home, I saw Ben's horse, right there in front of my house."

Joan was shivering, standing there, listening to every word.

"Yes. Please go on.", she said, interested in what ever he had to say about her Ben.

"Well, I thought I hadn't seen the horse, before. You know how you don't think straight when you're angry. Then, he walked up to me and said, "I've cleaned out the window, but I didn't want to bother your family. They didn't know that I coming. I thought that I should wait until you came back before I finished up inside.

"So, we went in and he finished glazing the window in just about no time at all. And, ma'am, it looked just like it had never been broken. I commented on the fact that he had done so well. And,

he just said that now I could forget about those boys and get back to being a happy man, again.

"Well, I was so shocked that he'd said this, that I just stood there in the front yard and watched him ride off. I didn't even introduce myself, let alone try to pay him anything for it, and he didn't ask for anything, neither. I didn't see him again for another week and he wouldn't take anything for it, then. He just said that it made him feel good to help me forgive those boys, who were probably a lot like we were, when we were their age. And, I couldn't disagree, ma'am."

There were tears in Joan's eyes and the bishop grew somewhat disheveled. He sort of moaned, "I didn't mean to hurt you ma'am."

She sniffed and took the handkerchief that he handed her.

Soon, she said, "Oh,...no. You've just made me remember one of the things that I shall miss about him, most."

There was a peaceful silence as she gathered herself, once again.

She looked at him and he was having to use his sleeve to dry his tears, so Joan returned his handkerchief.

Carl thought that it might be time to press on to more important matters. And, he began, "There are two young men that I have in mind who might be suitable for you to hire. If you would like me to, I'll certainly be happy to investigate their situations, for you."

"I would like for you to do that. Furthermore, I'd like for you to handle anything else which may be necessary for the funeral. Gemma's a lot of help, but still, I've begun to feel the burden of the two younger children. You know how that can be.

Bishop Johnson did know. His father had passed away about eight weeks, before. But, he did not want to convey to her his own grief.

Once again Joan had to ask the bishop for his handkerchief.

"It has only now occurred to me what a great amount of help you

are giving to us. I don't really know what we would do without it.

"Thank you, brother Johnson."

Suddenly, she understood why her daughter had called him brother. She then wept openly for a short time, wiped away her tears, and smiled, thanking him again. After which, she didn't feel so all alone at the thought of his leaving for home.

They went outside and down to the front of the house.

Again, Joan expressed her thankfulness and the bishop didn't speak at all until he mounted his horse. "Ma'am, it was such a privilege knowing your husband. I couldn't possibly do any less."

Carl Johnson simply pulled down the front of his hat and there it remained until he took it off at home.

For he too would miss Ben Evans.

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