Trail of Promise

With an uncomfortable glance at the preacher the undertaker indicated the boundaries for Wulf.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a hole to dig," Wulf said and got to work. The two men walked away with a glance back at the blacksmith.

It was hot work but Wulf was used to that. He took brief rest stops but powered through as best he could. There were a lot of roots that he had to cut through.

Mr. Emery returned later in the day with a ladder and a jug of cool water. Wulf climbed up and drank the water after thanking him. He saw a large folded tarp under the undertaker's arm.

"This is to cover the dirt pile and the hole. We're likely going to get rain tonight or tomorrow morning. Won't do to have the hole full of rain or to have the dirt wash away," he explained and Wulf nodded.

His muscles burned from the unfamiliar exercise.

The undertaker looked into the hole. "Another 18 inches to go and you're done. You do good work."

"Thank you," Wulf sighed, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back muscles.

"Harder than swinging a hammer?" Emery asked with a grin.

"Different muscles. Different motions. I'd better get back to it if I want to be done before dark. Thanks again for the ladder, tarp, and the water."

The undertaker nodded and dropped the tarp beside the hole before walking away.

It took another two hours to finish the last part as the ground was harder at this depth. Finally though, he climbed out of the hole and covered it with the tarp. He placed the ladder over that to keep it in place. Then he gathered some stones to pin down the corners and stood back to look at the product of his hard work.

Nodding to himself, he gathered his tools and left the cemetery to walk back to his shop. He had to pass through town to get there and he was a muddy mess but there was nothing for it. As he passed the saloon he saw several of the ladies out on the raised wooden sidewalk in front of the building. They smiled down at him.

"You look like you need a bath, Mister," one called out. "We could help you with that!"

He smiled at them but kept walking, hearing them moan disappointedly.

He drew surprised and disgusted looks from the other townfolk but no one else spoke with him.

Soon enough he arrived at his shop. The apprentice was still there.

"Did you feed and water the horses?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Didn't I send you home earlier?" Wulf asked.

"I like it here. If I go home early my mother gives me my older brother's chores to do," the young man said.

Wulf snorted in amusement as he recalled the battles he'd had with his own older brothers. A familiar pang of loneliness went through him.

"Besides I was able to complete that small order for hinges and I wanted you to inspect them."

Wulf's eyebrows rose. He wasn't sure if the young man was ready to take on the larger items but hinges... "Let me see."

They moved to the table and Wulf inspected the pieces. They looked good. A little more care needed to be taken with the alignment so they moved smoothly.

"These are good though I think you were rushing with some of them. Tomorrow, I want you to correct the spacing on these ones," he set aside ten or so, "and do the remaining hinges on order. You're learning, so take your time to get them right. Work on speed after perfecting accuracy. Good work."

The young man was smiling widely and vibrating with pride. "Thank you, sir!"

"Have a good night!"

"You too, sir!" the boy said and rushed off.

Wulf closed and locked up the shop. He stoked the forge and began heating water for a bath.

The ladies had been right. He did need one. Just not with them.

Chapter 5

Marlena stood by the open grave under an umbrella and looked down at the coffins resting peacefully side by side at the bottom. While the pain of their loss still tore at her heart she was somewhat comforted that her parents would remain close to each other. The hole that had been dug for the combined burial was large as was the mound of earth waiting to be shoveled back into the hole.

She looked up from the coffins to take in the setting. The lovely tree on the other side of the stone fence reached its branches overhead. She was surprised at how nice this spot was.

She wasn't really listening to the words the preacher was saying. It was nice of them to do this but the ceremony felt empty for her. The placement of the grave was a far more significant gesture.

Attending the funeral were the sheriff, the undertaker, the preacher and his wife, and the blacksmith. The tall man stood slightly separate from the group, wearing a long, black, oiled duster. His wide brimmed hat kept the rain from his eyes as well. She saw them glance at her and she saw the sadness in his reflecting her own. She looked away before her tears started again.

She felt numb as the preacher continued to speak and she was grateful when he finished. The sheriff and the undertaker gave her their condolences and left. Gloria asked if she wanted to say a few words before they left.

Glancing once more at the blacksmith who continued to stand silently by the side of the grave she shook her head. She had nothing but screams of anguish in her heart if she opened up now.

Gloria took her elbow and they walked away from the grave. She glanced back and saw the preacher following but Mr. Gunnersson was pulling the tarp back from the huge mound of earth. There was a shovel underneath and she saw him pick it up.

"What? What is Mr. Gunnersson doing?"

The preacher glanced back then faced her with a stiff expression. "He's filling the hole. He refused to pay for the undertaker's men to do it."

She blinked at the man. "He dug the hole as well?" she asked as they walked through the gate and crossed to the carriage.

The preacher was still frowning. "I'm sorry but he refused to dig two separate holes for your parents. The man can be quite stubborn it seems. He insisted on only digging one though it's unseemly. The members of my congregation are going to be upset about that and having strangers buried so close by. No offence," the man grumbled.

They climbed into the carriage, Marlena on the second row seat with her head spinning. He dug that enormous hole and was going to be the only one filling it back up? In the rain? Wait, the preacher said something before...

"Who paid for the funeral?" she blurted.

The man got the carriage moving then looked at her over his shoulder with an uncomfortable expression. "Well, Mr. Gunnarsson."

She looked back to catch a last glimpse of the man shovelling the dirt back into the hole. She faced forward once more, her mind in turmoil. Something else the preacher just said surfaced.

"Where were my parent originally going to be buried?" she asked quietly, watching the man in profile as he drove the carriage. Like she'd recently watched her father.

The preacher's jaw muscles jumped and flexed. "We'd picked out a lovely spot up by the front wall. But again, Mr. Gunnarsson proved to be contrary and... gave your parents the plot we would have given him, as he is a resident of the town. He traded plots with them."

"Oh!" she squeaked as her heart lurched in her chest. The generosity and thoughtfulness of this man, this perfect stranger, took her breath away.

Mistaking her response for one of protest the preacher nodded. "Yes, oh indeed. I will have nothing but harsh words from my congregation to deal with for his irregular and improper actions. If he wasn't one of my flock I wouldn't have allowed it."

"He attends service?" Marlena asked quietly, still reeling from the discoveries.

"Speak up girl!" Gloria snapped, upset to see her husband in distress.

"I asked if he attends service," Marlena repeated.

"Of course! He's not a heathen, however much he might look like one," Gloria chirped. "You've no need to worry about that!" she added with a smile that left Marlena confused.

"Sits or stands at the back, every Sunday," the preacher added in a grumble.

They rode on in silence until they approached the house.

The preacher had an appointment with a sick elderly man so Gloria and Marlena exited the carriage and made their way inside as he drove off.

Once they were settled into the seating room with a cup of tea to warm them up after the damp, Gloria's face lit up as she had an idea.

"I believe we should send Mr. Gunnarsson an invitation to tea three days hence, after this Sunday's service. That would be a much nicer formal introduction than has been performed to date," she said with a broad smile.

Marlena nodded with a smile of her own as she liked the idea of meeting him in a private setting. She desperately wanted to thank the man for his incredible kindness. She was determined to pay him back for the expenses he'd incurred on her behalf... once she knew what funds she had.

For his generosity towards her parents she had no way of repaying that but she would endeavor to let him know how appreciative she was.

"Excellent! I must go write up the invitation now. It must be perfect!" Gloria gushed and rushed off to begin her task.

Marlena watched the woman go then turned her eyes to the window. The rain continued to fall and she frowned thinking of the tall man out there in it, working hard to complete the burial of her parents, in the lovely spot he gave up for them.

She hugged herself as she took another sip of tea. She felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the hot beverage.

Chapter 6

Sunday morning, Wulf woke at the crack of dawn. For the first time in a very long time he found himself looking forward to attending church.

Two days ago, he'd received an invitation to tea after the service with the preacher, his wife, and their charge, Marlena Buchholz. It was unexpected but he discovered he was... excited by the prospect. He didn't socialize much... at all to be truthful, so this was a welcome diversion. He wanted to see how Marlena was doing. She'd looked so lost at the funeral. His heart ached at the memory.

He also wanted to know if she was going to make arrangements to collect her horses and wagon with its remaining supplies.

He splashed water on his face and frowned at the man who looked back at him. It felt like he was truly seeing himself for the first time in years.

What he saw, did not impress.

He decided right then and there that the beard had to go. He owned a shaving kit but it would need sharpening as he hadn't shaved since- he realized he'd stopped after Leena's death. He'd trimmed it with scissors from time to time when he found himself eating his mustache but shaving... not since then.

Pushing those maudlin thoughts from his mind he set about getting it done. He drew and heated water for a bath. While that was going he selected clothes to wear to church and discovered the only formal wear he had that fit his larger muscles was a dark, charcoal grey suit. He had a nice white shirt for under it and good leather shoes he hadn't worn in years.

He filled the trough with bucket after bucket of hot water and between each bucket he went at his full beard with a pair of sharp scissors. He couldn't get over how much hair he'd shorn from his face!

He moved on to sharpen his razor, not a difficult task considering the tools at his disposal in the shop. When he was satisfied it would smoothly cut the hair and not just pull it out he set it down on a little table next to the trough with a bar of soap and Leena's hand mirror. He poured the last pail of hot water in and stepped into the water. He allowed himself a few minutes to soak his sore muscles then got to work with the soap.

Once his body was clean he soaped and rinsed his hair until it was squeaky clean. Then he soaped his trimmed beard and face and, using the small mirror, shaved the remaining hair away until only smooth skin remained. He momentarily considered leaving the mustache but he wanted a change. He needed to cut loose the man he'd become since Leena passed.

He rinsed off and stepped from the trough to rub himself dry. He squeezed the excess water from his long hair.

He trimmed and cleaned the nails on his hands and feet, and used a brush on his hands to scrub away the stubborn soot stains.

He brushed his teeth until they sparkled and his hair until it gleamed. His long hair, he tied back with a black ribbon, suitable for a mourning period.

Then he dressed in the clothes he'd set out. The shoes pinched a little but he'd endure that. His coat fit though it was a little snug across his chest, shoulders, and arms.

He made his way down the main street through town towards the church. He drew stares and did his best to ignore them. He knew these people and nodded to them as he always did and caught more than one sudden blink of recognition and gasp of incredulity. He began to wonder just how radical his transformation really was.

When he reached the church he approached the doors behind a line of people and saw the preacher shaking hands and greeting the arrivals. His wife and Marlena could be seen just inside the doors greeting arrivals as well.

The preacher glanced past the man he was shaking hands with and replaced his smile with a look of wonder. As Wulf approached him the preacher's smile had returned and almost split his face.

"Good day to you, Mr. Gunnarsson! You look like a man reborn!" he gushed.

Wulf couldn't stop an answering smile from spreading across his own face. He did feel reborn though he was strangely uncertain of the cause. "Thank you preacher- Mr. Pritchard," he stumbled.

The preacher laughed happily and slapped him on the arm as he guided the bigger man inside.

He was a step inside the door when he turned his head and his eyes locked on brown eyes. He noticed Marlena had truly lovely, large brown eyes, much like a doe's. They were currently locked onto his face. Her hands came up involuntarily to touch her own cheeks as she took in his strong jaw which had been hidden behind his mangy beard.

He glanced to the preacher's wife and her eyes were positively sparkling with joy.

"Oh my goodness, Mr. Gunnarsson! How different you look without your beard!" she trilled.

"Its loss feels like a weight removed from my heart," he said absently as his eyes went back to the slim beauty standing next to Mrs. Pritchard. He watched with delight as a fetching blush spread across her cheeks.

"You've discovered a golden tongue under that hair as well!" Gloria quipped as she saw Marlena's reaction as well. She reached out and took his hand, pulling him with her and Marlena down the aisle.

Wulf glanced over to the seat he normally took and spotted Mrs. Dale sitting there with her sister. Both were dressed in their finest and both looked back at him in shock. They didn't normally sit so far back as Mr. Dale was a prominent member of the community and warranted a seat much closer to the front. What were their intentions?

As he passed by, their shock turned to looks of dismay as their eyes moved to who he was walking with.

He looked forward again and realized Mrs. Pritchard was leading them up to the front bench where she sat. The woman leaned in and whispered something to the people already seated there and they shifted down the bench to make more room.

The preacher's wife sat and gestured for Wulf to sit next to her. He did and realized he was going to have to squeeze tight to allow enough bench for Marlena to sit.

"There isn't enough space, Mrs. Pritchard," he said to her quietly.

"Nonsense!" She shifted a little to the left and gestured for him to as well.

Sighing he did and Marlena sat next to him. Sure enough he felt the soft women pressing on him from both sides. That felt too good. He began to worry. He was in church. He turned his face to the preacher's wife.

"This is... too intimate-" he began.

"Hush now. He's beginning," the woman asserted but Wulf could see a bead of sweat on her upper lip as her face flushed as well. He turned his head to face Marlena and she smiled at him timidly. He returned the smile and felt her relax against him.

So soft!

-=-

Marlena wasn't prepared to stand on a receiving line at the church but Gloria gave her no option. She greeted the people as they entered the church and smiled at each of them regardless of receiving a smile in return. She certainly wasn't expecting anything pleasant from the ladies she'd met in the mercantile shop. Those expectations were exceeded as the women began to snarl at her only to be rebuffed by Gloria. The rest of the people entering were civil enough but she was grateful when she saw the line coming to an end.

Then she saw the stranger. The most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. She couldn't look away.

He was smiling shyly at the preacher who said his name and a shock went through her body. This was Mr. Gunnarsson?!? This absolutely gorgeous man was the same kind and generous hearted man who saved her from being shot and who paid her parents the ultimate courtesy?

Then he was standing before her and her breath caught in her chest as everything she wanted to say to him seemed inadequate. His face was no longer hidden behind that messy beard and she wanted desperately to touch his smooth cheeks, to kiss his lips. She tingled at the audacity of her thoughts!

When she caught his tender words as he looked into her eyes, her whole body felt like it might burst into flames.

Then Gloria was pulling them down the aisle and her head was in the clouds as the beautiful man walked next to her. For just a second, she allowed herself to fantasize that they might be doing this as man and wife. Oh, the dreams she had! He was too beautiful for the likes of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw what Gloria was up to and when she slid onto the bench, feeling his hard muscles pressing against her, she thought she might faint. She smiled at him and when he returned it she felt like she might be melting.

She struggled to pay attention to the preacher who was smiling down at them from the pulpit. He certainly looked happy.

-=-

Eugene Pritchard knew a sign from God when it walked up to him and shook his hand. Wulf Gunnarsson had turned a corner. He'd traveled through the valley of despair and grief and had come out the other side a new man.

With the arrival of his fiancé, it was time for the big man to put his mourning aside and begin again.

Eugene felt inspired! He felt new energy flowing through his soul and he wanted to share that with his congregation. He smiled down at his wife who beamed a happy smile back at him. Such a good woman! He looked at the new man sitting next to her and the young woman whose tragic circumstance lead to Mr. Gunnarsson's emancipation from his grief.

He took his flock through the hymns and the prayers. He was almost bursting with excitement to reach the time when he would give a very special sermon.

They sang the last verse of one of his favorite hymns and he set the book down on the pulpit as he smiled out at his congregation. It was time. He smiled at his wife.

"For my sermon today I'd like to address one of the most powerful forces that keeps us all together. I'm speaking of course about 'family'. As a congregation, we are a kind of extended family. For many of you, you only need to look as far as the person sitting next to you to see family. We don't always get along but the bond between family members is incredibly strong." He gave Marlena a sad smile. "We were recently exposed to the tragic loss of family when new arrivals to our fair town were senselessly murdered by bandits, leaving behind their daughter. They'd just completed a most perilous and dangerous journey all the way from New York City to Jennerville with a very special purpose. A purpose we only discovered after the tragic loss of her family.

"Mr. Gunnarsson. Miss Buchholz. Might I ask you to stand?"