The mare mule, at shoeing time, literally went wild. She became so terrified that she had to be dragged to the forge and roped and hog-tied after she was there to keep her from injuring the blacksmith. But the horse had a streak of vanity that took peculiar directions. He was proud to wear new shoes, and after they were nailed on he spent hours walking about to test them. Usually a full day passed before he no longer gave his new-shod hoofs any attention.
When Joe approached, the mule lifted his rear hoof voluntarily and held it. He did it gracefully, taking all his weight on his other three legs and never at any time endangering Joe. Joe tried the shoe, and when he saw that it was a perfect fit he nailed it on. The mule swung his head to look approvingly at his hoof. Joe rose and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Everything except the mule shoeing was done. The wagon had a new box, and all the parts that had seemed even slightly weak or worn had been replaced. They knew exactly what they were going to take along, and among other things they were going to take six of Emma's best hens plus a rooster, and there was a place for everything. New, double-thick canvas covered the wagon, and Joe had even arranged a canvas drop curtain so that, if it were necessary to camp inside, the male and female members of his family could have their own compartments. Joe had ninety-eight dollars in cash, and an uneasy feeling that it would not be nearly enough. But he did not know how to get any more.
As soon as Pete Domley came—and he should be here any minute—they could rope and shoe the mare mule. There they could start, and the sooner the better. Joe had dreamed of the Oregon Trail so many times that, if he wasn't on it soon, he felt that he would begin braying like a mule himself. He smiled at his daughter.
"I think we'll leave tomorrow morning, Bobby."
"Oh, Daddy! May I stay with Marcia tonight?"
Her lambent eyes glowed with pure delight, and Joe noted with approval the fire in her voice. Though it was not an unmixed blessing, Barbara felt all of everything that touched her. Her temperament, Joe felt, was not unlike the glowing fire in the forge. He said,
"It's all right with me if it is with your mother."
"Are you happy, Daddy?"
"Sure am! I—What the dickens!"