Love comes softly (4 page)

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close, allowing herself to be held and loved as they rocked gently back and forth. How long they sat thus Marty did not know, but gradually she realized that the child was no longer sobbing. Detecting the smell of frying bacon coming from the kitchen, she roused herself and used her comb, first on her own unruly hair, and then on the child's brown curls. She picked up Missie and returned to the kitchen, dipping a cloth in cool water to wash away the child's tears and also to cool her own face. Clark did not look up. There he was, doing what she should be doing again, Marty thought dejectedly. The pancakes were ready, the eggs fried, the bacon sizzling as he lifted it from the pan. The coffee steamed in their cups and a small mug of milk sat at Missie's place. There was nothing left to do but to go sit down. He brought the bacon and sat down across from her.

She wouldn't be caught this time. She remembered that he prayed before he ate, so she bowed her head and sat silently. She sat quietly waiting. Nothing happened-- then she heard faint stirrings-- like the sound of pages being turned. She stole a quick glance upward and saw Clark sitting, Bible in hand, turning the pages to find the place that he wanted. She could feel the color rising slowly to her cheeks but Clark did not look up.

"We read today, Psalm 121," he said and began to read. " 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.'

Marty wished solemnly that her help would come from the hills. In fact, she'd take it from any direction. She brought her mind back to catch up to Clark's reading. She had already missed some by letting her mind wander.

" 'The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.

'The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

"

'The Lord shall preserve thee from evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

" 'The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and even for evermore.' "

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Gently he laid the book aside on a small shelf close to the table, and then, as he bowed his head and prayed, Marty was caught off-guard again.

"Dad-burn him," she thought, but then her attention was taken by his words.

"Our God, fer this fine day an' yer blessin's we thank ya." "Blessin's," thought Marty. "Like a howlin' kid, spilled coffee an' a burned finger. Blessin's?"

But Clark went on.

"Thank ya, Lord, thet the first hard mile with Missie be travelled, an' help this one who has come to be her new mama."

"He never calls me by my name when he's a talkin' to his God," thought Marty, "always 'this one.' If his God is able to be answerin' his prayers, I sure hope He knows who he's talk- in' 'bout. I need all the help thet I can git."

Marty heard the rattle of dishes and realized that her mind had been wandering and she had missed the rest of the prayer, including the Amen, and still she sat, head bowed. She flushed again and lifted her head, but Clark was fixing Missie's pancake so her embarrassment went unobserved.

At first breakfast was a quiet meal. Missie was too spent from her morning battle to be chattery and Clark seemed preoccupied. Marty, too, sat with her own thoughts and they were not at all pleasant ones.

"What after breakfast?" she wondered.

First she'd have to do up the dishes, then properly clean the messy stove. Then what? She'd love a chance to wash up the few pitiful things that comprised her wardrobe. She'd also like to wash the blankets that she had, and pack them away in her trunk. She'd need them again when she joined the wagon train going east.

Her mind wandered on, making plans as to how she might repair the few dresses that she possessed if she could just find a little bit of cloth some place. Clark said he went to town on Saturdays. This was Wednesday. She'd have to take stock of the cupboards and try to have a list ready for him. She stole a glance at him and then quickly looked back at her plate. He

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certainly did not look like a happy man, she told herself. Brooding almost, one could call it. At any rate deep-looking, as though trying to sort through something.

Then Missie cut in with a contented sigh, and a hearty, "All done, Pa." She pushed her plate forward. The face was transformed.

"Thet's Pa's big girl," he beamed, and the two shared some chattering that Marty made no effort to follow. Clark rose presently and refilled his coffee cup, offering her more too. Marty scolded herself for not noticing the empty cup first.

Clark pushed back his plate and took a sip of the hot coffee. Then he looked evenly across at her. She met his gaze, though she found it difficult to do so.

"S'pose ya be at a loss, not knowin' where to find things an' all. I see ya found the cold pit. Good! There be also a root cellar out back. Most of the garden vegetables are already there. Only a few things still be out in the garden. A shelf with cannin's there too, but ya need a light along to do yer choosin'; it be dark in there. There's also a smoke house out by the root cellar. Not too much in it right now. We plan on doin' our fall kiln' and curin' next week. Two of the neighbors and me works together. There be chickens-- fer eggs an' fer eatin'. We try not to get the flock down too low, but there's plenty to spare right now. There won't be fresh meat until it turns colder, 'ceptin' fer a bit of the pork. When the cold weather comes we try an' get some wild game; it keeps then. Sometimes we kill us a steer if we think we be a needin' it. There be fish in the crik too. When the work is caught up I sometimes try my hand at loafin' an' fishin'. We're not bad off, really."

It was not a boast, simply a statement.

"We have us real good land and the Lord be blessin' it. We've had good crops fer the last four seasons. The herd has built up too and the hogs an' chickens are plentiful enough. All the garden truck thet we can use can be growed right out aside the house an' there's lots of grain in the bins fer seedin'.

"We has some cash-- not much, but enough an' iffen we do be needin' more, we can always sell us a hog.

"We're better off than a lot of folks, but the neighbors

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round about here are makin' good too. Seems as how our move to the West been a good one.

"Got me some cuttin's a few years back from a man over acros't the crik; an' in a couple of years, if all goes well, we should have some fruit on 'em. The apples might even be a settin' next year, he tells me.

"I'm a tellin' ya this so's ya be knowin' the lay-o-the-land, so to speak. Ya don't need to apologize fer askin' fer what ya be a needin', both fer yerself an' fer Missie. We've never been fancy but we try an' be proper."

He pushed back from the table after his long speech, and stood silently for a moment, as if sorting out in his thinking if there was anything else that he should tell her.

"We has a couple a good milk cows a milkin' at present an' another due with an' off-season calf, so we have all the milk an' butter we be needin'.

"There's a good team of horses an' a ridin' horse too, iffen ever ya want to pay a visit to a neighbors. Ma Graham be the closest, an' she's 'bout as good company as anybody be a wantin'. I think ya'll find her to yer likin' even if she be a lot older than you.

"Most of my field work is done fer the fall, but I do have me a little breakin' I aim to do yet, iffen winter holds off awhile. First, though, I plan to spend a few days helpin' one o' the neighbors who ain't through yet. He got 'im a slow start. Plan to go over there today-- Jedd Larson-- an' give 'im a hand. I'll be asked to stay to dinner with 'em so won't be home 'til chore time. Ya can make yerself to home an' you an' Missie git to know one another like, an' maybe we won't have anymore of those early mornin' fusses."

He turned to Missie then and swung her up easily into his arms.

"Ya wanna come with Pa to git ole Dan an' Charlie?"

She assented loudly and the two set off for the barn.

Marty stirred herself. No more early mornin' fusses. That was his only reference to the incident. He hadn't seemed to pay much heed at the time, but, she reflected, maybe it had bothered him more than he let on.

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She began to clear the table. Clark had said so much that it seemed difficult to sort out at one time. She'd shelve it for now and draw on it later as she had need. She began to make plans for her day.

She'd scout around and find a tub to heat water and then wash clothes and blankets as she had hoped she could. Maybe she'd be able to find a needle and thread and do the much needed repair work as well.

By the time she had started on the dishes, Clark was back to deposit Missie, working to detach her clinging arms. Missie had by now become used to going everywhere with her pa, and it wasn't going to be easy for the first while to make her understand that things would be different now.

After Clark had left and Missie had finally ceased her crying, Marty put away the last of the dishes and set to work cleaning the stove. That done, she swept up the floor and felt ready to turn to her own plans for the day.

She had never had much practice at keeping a real house, but she was determined that she would do a good job of it. Clark was never going to be embarrassed about the home that he lived in as long as she was earning her way. As soon as she had her own things in order, she'd turn her attention to the house, which had been a bachelor's quarters for too long. Even though Clark had been better than most in keeping things up, still it wasn't as a woman would have it. Just give her a few days. She'd have things in order.

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Chapter 5

Iffen I Can Jest Stick It Out . . .

By late afternoon Marty had finished washing everything that belonged to her and some of Clark's and Missie's clothes as well. The day was much cooler than the previous one, she thought with relief. She couldn't have tolerated another one like that. This felt more like mid-October, even if it was still a glorious Indian summer day.

Marty looked out toward the west. Far beyond the rolling hills the blue mountains rose in majesty. Was it from here that Clark was seeking the help of his God?

The trees along the hillside were garbed in yellows and reds. Indeed, many of the leaves were already on the ground or being carried southward by a gusty breeze.

It was a beautiful scene and how happy she would have been to share it with Clem. If only she and Clem could have had this together. Her heart ached even more than her tired back as she emptied the water from the washtubs.

Missie was having a nap. Marty was glad to be free of the child for a while-- almost as glad as she had been to have Clark away for the day. How relieved she had felt at his announcement that morning. Maybe with luck the neighbor's work would keep him away for several days. She hardly dared hope for so much. She had planned to look around the farm today to learn where things were, but she felt far too tired just now. She'd just sneak a few minutes of rest while Missie was

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still sleeping and then take her scouting trip a little later.

She threw out the last of the rinse water, replaced the tubs on the pegs on the side of the house and with extreme weariness went in to stretch out on her bed. She cried a bit before sleep claimed her, but the sleep that came was the most restful one that she'd had since Clem had died.

Marty slept on, unconscious of the fact Missie had awakened, looked over at her as she slept, and then, with a great deal of maneuvering, climbed from her crib and went in search of her pa.

Marty awoke with a start-- not sure what had roused her, but already sensing that something was wrong. Maybe Missie had cried. She propped herself on one elbow and looked at the crib. No, it wasn't that. Missie wasn't even there. Missie wasn't there? But she must be.

Marty sprang up, her heart pounding. Where was Missie? Maybe Clark had come home and taken the child with him.

"Don't panic," she told herself. "She's got to be okay."

Marty checked the corral but the team was not back. She looked all around the buildings, calling as she went. No Missie. She ranged farther and farther from the buildings but still no Missie. She was getting frantic now in spite of her efforts to keep herself under control. Where could Missie be? What should she do?

Tears were streaming down Marty's cheeks. Her dress had suffered another tear near the hem and she had thorns in her hands from the wild rose bushes that she had forced her way through. She checked the creek-- up and down its banks, searching the clear, shallow water, but no sign of Missie or of anything that belonged to her.

Maybe she followed the road, Marty thought, and she set off at a hurried pace down the dusty, rutted roadway. On and on she stumbled. Surely she couldn't have gone this far, Marty reasoned, but she hurried on because she knew of nothing else to do. Then, over the hill in the road ahead she saw Clark's team coming toward her.

She could have stopped by the side of the road and waited

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for him to approach her, but she did not even think of it.

What could she say to Clark? How could she tell him? She could not even be trusted to care for one small child. Would Clark have some idea of where to search for her that Marty had not already tried?

On she plodded until finally she had to step aside to allow the team to draw up beside her. She looked up at Clark, misery showing on her dirt and tear-streaked face-- there sat Missie as big as life on her pa's knee, looking very proud of herself.

Clark whoaed the horses to a stop and reached down a hand to help Marty into the wagon. She climbed up reluctantly, her head spinning. Oh, what must he think? They travelled toward home in silence. Why didn't he say something? He'd not spoken since he'd said giddup to the team. Missie was quiet too. Well, she'd better be, the little demon. If she said one word, Marty knew she'd feel like smacking her. Her great relief at seeing her safe and sound was now replaced with a feeling of anger toward the child. Marty's face stung, both from the effort of her frantic search and her deep humiliation. Then her chin went up. So he wasn't talking. Well-- neither was she. He could think what he would, she wasn't doing any explaining. She hated him anyway and she didn't think much more of his undisciplined child.

"Iffen I can jest stick it out fer thet wagon train, then I'll be a goin' out of this wretched place so fast ya won't even find my tracks."

The woman in her wanted desperately to resort to tears, but the woman in her also refused her even that small comfort.

"Don't ya dare," she warned herself, "don't ya dare give him thet satisfaction."

She held her head high, eyes straight ahead and remained that way until they reached the house. Contemptuously she ignored any help that Clark might have given her, and climbed down over the wheel, managing to tear her dress even farther. He placed Missie on the ground and Marty scooped the child up rather roughly and went into the house. Missie seemed unbothered by it all and paid no attention as her new