He smiled wryly, and held her eyes with his own honest glance.
"It's not our own home, though, and nothing will ever feel like home again until we've stopped moving, and planted crops, and have our own roof over our heads."
He had said what was in her mind, so there was no need for further speech on that subject. She came to him and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
He jumped to his feet and grabbed her in a furious hug. "Emma, my fine girl!" he declared. "When we get to Oregon I'm going to build you a house that will make our other house seem like a chicken coop!"
She looked at him with all of her love and faith, and with laughter in her eyes. "With five acres of flower garden and a square mile just for the chickens!" she said. They laughed uproariously, ridiculously. Then Joe remembered something.
"Excuse me a minute."
Joe went to the wagon, and took from the tool box the one parcel that had been there since leaving Laramie. Very gently he gave it to Emma.
"Merry Christmas, my dear."
"Joe!" She held the package tenderly, caressing it with her spirit before she did with her hands, for she knew the gift could never be forsaken or forgotten. She heard Joe say,
"I only wish it was half as fine as you are."