Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (19 page)

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things as they be now, then maybe ya should do somethin' to try to straighten 'em out. I know thet mothers can pain some- thin' awful, not knowing 'bout their sons. I know thet fathers can make mistakes thet they suffer fer, an' sometimes it's most difficult to be man enough to say they was wrong. Thet's all I know. Yes . . . I know another thing, as well. I know thet God can help us do the right thing--even though it seems impossible. But only you can decide what is the right thing fer you."

Juan weighed the words of the older man. At length he turned to him and extended his hand.

"I am not making any promises, except that I will think about what you have said. It is a very hard thing."

Clark took the hand and shook it firmly. "I will be prayin' thet you make the right decision," he said.

They returned to the others. There were questions in many eyes but none were asked. Maria and Juan soon declared that they must be on their way home.

Cookie came to visit Clark whenever his work would allow him a break. He usually waited until he saw Clark out on the veranda getting some fresh air or early morning sun, and then he would hobble over to ease himself to a step or a nearby chair. He seemed to feel he and Clark had much in common. One day he even dared to talk about it.

"Leg bother ya much?"

"Not bad now. Gives me a bit of a jar iffen I happen to bump it."

"Trouble with 'phantom pain'?"

"Some."

"Must be peculiar feelin'. Somethin' hurtin' thet ain't even there."

"Yah, bothers me some all right. Itches somethin' awful at times, an' ya ain't even got anythin' to scratch." Clark chuckled ruefully.

"Well, at least I don't have them problems," said Cookie. "Yer leg still pain ya a good deal?" asked Clark. "Sometimes." There was a moment of silence while Cookie

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thought of the pain. "Not as bad lately though. Was a time I near went wild with it."

Clark nodded his head in understanding.

"How many years now?" he asked.

"I try to fergit. Guess it must be 'bout five already. No, six. Lotsa' folks said as how I'd a-been better off to have it off like you done."

"Well," Clark reminded him, "I wasn't able to do my own choosin'. Don't know's I would have really picked this way to do it, iffen I had."

"Yer leg was bad broke, Clark," Cookie assured him evenly. "I knew as soon as I seed it thet only a miracle could save it, an' seems to me we been a little short on miracles in my lifetime."

Clark smiled. "Well," he said firmly, "I ain't seen an overabundance of miracles myself, but I shore ain't doubtin' them none." Watching Cookie's expectant face carefully, Clark went on, "Guess one of the biggest miracles thet I know of is when God takes a no-good sinner and makes a saint fittin' fer heaven outa 'im. Now, thet's a real miracle, to my thinkin'. Even an earthly fella like the doc can, with some trainin' an' the right tools an' medicine, put a badly messed-up body together ag'in. But only God, through His love an' grace, can take a crushed and broken soul and restore it ag'in. Yessir,
thet's
a miracle."

Cookie scuffed the dust with the toe of his boot.

"Take me now," Clark said confidingly, "ya know what happened with me? When I first woke up to the fact thet I only had one leg, a part of me died inside. I started tellin' myself all kinds of stories 'bout being' only half a man, an' how sad it was to be a cripple, an' how sorry I could be fer myself, an' even how God had let me down. Fer a minute, I almost had me convinced thet I had good reason to jest turn over to the wall and have a real good feelin'-sorry-fer-myself time. My body was broken--was bruised and hurtin'--an' my soul wanted to sympathize with it, see? My soul wanted to curl up an' hurt an' suffer an' become bitter an' ugly. Now, God didn't choose to do a miracle on this here leg." Clark tapped the stump

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lightly. "But He did a bigger an' more important miracle. He worked over the inner me--the soul of me. Thet's where I needed the miracle the most, so thet's where He applied His amazin' power. In here," said Clark, pointing to his broad chest, "in here, I don't hurt anymore."

Cookie's eyes hinted ever so slightly of unshed tears, and Clark wondered how many years Cookie had been in pain both inwardly and outwardly. He reached out a hand and gently squeezed the cowpoke's shoulder.

"We needn't fear," his voice was almost a whisper. "He's still doin' miracles."

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Chapter Twenty-one

Growing

Willie returned to the range and the business of a ranch in the fall. Cattle needed to be rounded up and a few stray doggies branded. The steers for market needed to be cut and sorted from the herd and driven to the train station for shipping. Fences needed fixing and pastures had to be checked before the coming winter, besides the water holes to watch and rustlers to keep an eye out for. The warm fall days were busy from dawn till dark.

Missie still insisted on spending most of her time with her father. At times her own work suffered because of the attention she was giving Clark. The two little boys did not seem to fare too badly because they also were usually hovering closely around their grandfather. It was Willie who concerned Marty. Often when he would come in at night, tired from another busy day in the saddle, Missie was still so busy fussing over Clark that she scarcely had time to notice. Marty hoped that she was exaggerating things and tried to tuck her anxiety into the back of her mind. She tried to take care of Clark so completely

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that Missie would not feel this responsibility, but this did not ease the situation. Missie still hovered close by.

Marty then turned some of her attention to Willie, hoping to at least make him aware that he was still loved and appreciated. She of course knew instinctively that Willie wished for the attention of his wife--not his mother-in-law. Even the boys did not run to meet Willie with the same exuberance at the end of the day, for they had spent the day with a grandfather who carved them tops and fashioned whistles.

In spite of her determination to put the matter aside, Marty felt her concern grow daily. To her surprise, Clark, who was normally so sensitive to the feelings of others, did not seem to notice it. Perhaps he was just too close to the situation.

Henry came to see Clark. After a simple greeting, Henry did not sit and idly chat but came directly to the point.

"Been doin' a great deal of thinkin' lately," he said. "We really need us a church."

Clark nodded his head in agreement and looked up from the crude crutch that he was carving, having determined that it was time he did something to aid in walking.

"Good idea," said Clark.

"Seems like now would be as good a time as any to be plannin' fer it," Henry went on. "I know thet now ain't a good time at all fer ranchers. Real busy time of the year, but things will be slowin' down 'fore too long again. But we shouldn't wait fer things to slow down 'fore we git started. Thet's sorta like puttin' God last. Been thinkin' thet we really are in need of some preachin'. We read the Bible together, an' thet's good, but some of these folks need someone to explain what it's meanin'. Ya take thet there new family thet's been comin'--the Crofts--they need someone to tell them what the Word means, to show them how to accept this here truth fer themselves."

"I was thinkin' thet when ya said 'church' ya was a-meanin' a buildin'," said Clark.

"Well, I was, an' I wasn't," answered Henry. "Shore, we need a buildin', an' I think thet we could be workin' on thet

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real soon too. But I was also thinkin' of people an' of those who are needin' to know the truth. I think thet it's time to be givin' 'em more than we been doin'."

"Sounds good to me," responded Clark. "Ya got any plans?"

"Yah," said Henry, "been thinkin' on you."

"Me?" Clark showed surprise.

Henry did not waver. "Shore. You."

"But I don't have no Bible trainin'."

"Ya been studyin' it fer years, haven't ya?"

"Yah, but--"

"An' you've heard lots of preachin'?"

"Shore."

"An ya believe the Holy Spirit can teach the truth?" " 'Course I do."

Henry grinned. "An' ya ain't overly busy these days, are ya?"

Clark began to chuckle. "No," he said, "I shore ain't over busy. Been makin' a few tops an' whistles, an' tying a few knots, an' eatin', an' complainin', an' makin' folks run around waitin' on me. Come to think on it," he said, scratching his head with the blunt end of his knife, "seems I been powerful busy after all."

They laughed together.

"Well?" spoke Henry, when they had stopped their laughing.

"Well," responded Clark, "I need to do some thinkin' an' prayin"bout thet one."

"You do thet," encouraged Henry and straightened up, feeling quite confident where Clark's thinking and praying would lead him.

"Gotta git," said Henry. "The fellas will be wonderin' where their boss has disappeared to. See ya come Sunday." And he swung up into the saddle and left the yard at a canter.

Clark continued his work on his crutch but his eyes were thoughtful. In fact, he paused occasionally to wipe away a tear or two. Maybe God could turn this whole tragic accident into something good.

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The group which gathered on Sunday in the large living room of the LaHaye household had again increased. With the Crofts were two other women and their children. One was the mother of Andy, the boy that Clark had rescued from the mine. The other woman, young and frightened looking, had just buried an infant son.

Four of the LaHaye cowboys sauntered in and took inconspicuous seats toward the back of the room, clearing their throats and fingering their wide-brimmed hats self- consciously as they waited for the singing to begin. The simple service was just starting when Cookie hobbled in with a rather reluctant Wong in tow. Cookie had assured Wong that this was a good place to add some new English words to his vocabulary.

Henry and his guitar led the singing, and Willie read the Scripture. After a time for prayer and another song, Willie made opportunity for anyone from the congregation to share a scripture or a thought. Henry rose to his feet. Clearing his throat, he began slowly with what he seemed to feel was a very important matter.

"Ya all know as how we been feelin' the need to git together like this Sunday by Sunday to hear the Word an' pray. Maybe ya been appreciatin' it as much as I have been, but ya still feel thet somethin' is missin' like. So much of the Word thet we read we need to learn more 'bout. Thet's why churches have 'em preachers--to explain the meanin' of the Word. Well, we ain't had us a preacher. 'Course we do have the Spirit of God as our teacher, an' I thank God fer thet.

"This here summer Missie an' Willie had the fortune of havin' Mr. and Mrs. Davis come fer a visit. It was jest to be a short visit of a couple of weeks. We all know of the tragic circumstances thet led 'em to still be here. I say 'tragic' 'cause thet's the way it seems to all of us. But I been a-thinkin'. Maybe God can make good outa even this tragedy. The Word says thet all things can work together fer our good, iffen we love God. Lately I've been seem' some good thet might come from this as well. I spoke to Mr. Davis 'bout it, an' he promised

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to pray 'bout it. I've asked Mr. Davis iffen he won't be our preacher-like an' explain the Word to us Sunday by Sunday. Now, he ain't a preacher, really. He's a farmer. But he knows the Word of God an' he's heard lots of preachin', an' I think thet he'd have lots of good Bible teachin' to share with us."

Faces began to turn toward Clark, and it was apparent that many people were waiting expectantly to see how he would answer Henry when the time came for a decision. Clark looked around him at the strange little congregation. He saw Missie and Willie, Henry and Melinda, and knew how much they had grown in the faith; he saw rough cowhands, unknowing but open to the knowledge of the Word; he saw the young woman from town, her sorrow showing in her eyes as she longed for some kind of comfort; he saw the Crofts, seeking for healing in their recent bereavement; he saw the family and their son whose arm still needed to be straightened; he saw Andy sitting stiffly beside his mother; he saw the De la Rosas, with the pain and the questions still lingering in Juan's eyes. Clark's heart went out to them all. He felt a strange stirring within and he knew that, with God's help, he must feed this flock. He stood up, his crutch held firmly in his hand for support, and looked around at the faces before him.

"It honors me to be asked to open God's Word with ya here. With God's help, I will try to give to ya the meanin' of the scripture read each Sunday. We can learn together."

He sat down and clapping echoed through the room. Marty was so proud and happy she wanted to put her head against Clark's shoulder and weep tears of joy.

Henry stood again, his face beaming. "We got us a preacher!" he exulted. "Now, what we gonna do 'bout a church?"

There was enthusiastic and spontaneous response to the question. Many voices began to call that they would build their own church, and some shouted suggestions about where it should be located. Henry finally got things quieted enough to speak again.

"I've been a-thinkin'," he said, "thet since there's not a church in town yet, an' this is a powerful distance fer some to