Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (6 page)

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kinks out of their muscles. On occasion they visited a store to restock their own little food supply. Often it was no cooler out on the station platform than it had been in the stuffy coach, but at least it was a bit of relief from the cramped position. Marty began to wonder if it really would have been much more difficult to cover the miles in a jolting covered wagon.

The landscape around them changed with each passing day. Trees were fewer in number, often forlornly clumped together by a meandering stream. The towns, sometimes no more than a few scattered houses, were now even farther apart than before. On the third day, they rolled into a town that Clark announced was the place where they would transfer to the other train. Marty was not reluctant to make the change. She had no ties to this present train or its passengers. She had found very little in common with their fellow travelers. Those few whom she had become acquainted with had all seemed to get off at earlier stops except for one middle-aged lady in a dove-gray gown and hat. Mrs. Swanson was heading west to live with her son, her husband having died recently. Marty thought that it was spunky of the little woman to make such a life-changing move all alone.

Clark had visited with several of the men on the train, attempting to learn all that he could about the West before arriving at his son-in-law's ranch. He did not wish to appear to the ranch hands as another "ignorant fella from the East."

When they arrived at their point of transfer and the train dismissed its passengers, Clark and Marty made their way across the rough platform. People milled about and called to one another, but as there would be no one in this town that they knew, they kept their attention on the task of finding their way from the station to a suitable lodging.

Informed that a hotel was just down the street within easy walking distance, they set out. When Clark requested a room from the man at the reception desk, he was told that a room was available; but Marty was shocked when she heard him name the price. Clark did not argue with him but counted out the bills from the small roll he carried in his pocket.

They climbed the worn, carpeted stairs and found their

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room number on a door. Marty looked about her, her eyes widening at the sight that confronted them on opening the door. The room was almost bare, except for a good measure of dirt and dust, and the bed looked as though the sheets and pillows had been used by at least one other occupant--maybe more. Marty had little objection to sparse furnishings, but filth was another matter.

Clark noticed the sad state of the room, too. Marty could see him eying the muddy boot prints on the floor and the soiled pillows strewn on the bed. But he made no remark.

"I think thet I'll take a little walk an' sorta check out the town. Ya wantin' to come along, or do you wanna jest rest a bit?" asked Clark.

A walk did sound appealing, yet from what Marty had so far seen of the town, she was not so sure she wanted to walk in

"I think thet I'll jest rest me here fer a bit. I'll see the town when we go out to git our supper," she answered.

Clark took his hat and left.

Marty didn't know what to do with herself after Clark had gone. She wished for a pail of hot, soapy water and a good scrub brush. The place looked like it could do with a good washing.

She crossed to the bed with the thought of lying down for a rest, looked at the dirty linen and changed her mind. She walked to the window, intending to pass some time by watching the action down on the street. The window looked out on nothing but the prairie and wind-swept countryside. She lifted her case from the only chair in the room and tried to settle herself in it. It had a broken spring that made it impossible to sit comfortably. Marty decided that her only choice was to pace the floor. Well, she could certainly do with the exercise after being invisibly chained to the swaying train seat for three days. She walked. Round and round she walked, wishing that she had gone with Clark.

About the time she thought she would surely go crazy, Clark returned. Over his arm he carried clean bed linen. "The maid has arrived," he joshed

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"Where'd ya git thet?" Marty asked admiringly. "Ya been foragin' through hotel closets?" she teased.

"Not exactly. Actually, it wasn't all thet easy to come by. I went on out fer a walk like I said. There be only one other hotel, of a sort, in this here town. It boasted 'bout bein"full up.' Couldn't find a decent roomin' house anywhere. So, when I got back here, I jest asked the fella at the desk for some clean linens. I said thet it 'peared like the maid had somehow missed our room when she was a-makin' up. He weren't too happy to 'commodate me, but I jest stood right there, smilin' at 'im an' waitin'. He finally found me some."

Marty was happy to strip the bed and put on the clean sheets and cases.

"Not too much fer eatin' places either," Clark continued as she worked. "Did see a small place down the street. Looks a little more like a saloon than a cafe, but it mightn't be too bad iffen we git there early an' leave as soon as we're done."

"We can go most anytime. I'll jest fix my hair some an' grab me a hat."

They left the hotel and walked out into the brisk wind. Marty held her hat with one hand and her skirt with the other.

"Fella I met says thet the wind blows like this most of the time here," remarked Clark as they leaned into the wind. Marty wondered what in the world the ladies did if they ever needed one of their hands free to carry something.

When they reached the unpretentious building where they were to get their evening meal, Clark held the door against the wind. They seated themselves at a small table, and Clark nodded for the waiter. They soon learned that the "house speciality" was stew and biscuits; or roast beef, gravy, and biscuits; or beans, bacon, and biscuits. They ordered the roast beef and settled down to wait for their meal.

Marty glanced around the room. The lighting, a lone, flickering lamp on each table, was dim. The few windows seemed to be covered with some kind of dark paint. A blue haze from the smoking of the occupants further hindered visibility. Most of those who lounged around were not eating but drinking. Marty did spot three men in the far corner who were having a

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meal. The others just seemed to be talking or playing cards. Occasionally a loud laugh would break the otherwise comparative silence in the place. At least for now, Marty was the only woman in the place.

Marty hoped that their order would come quickly so they might leave soon. If this was Missie's West, Marty wasn't sure she would be at home in it. She felt uneasy in her present surroundings. Having never traveled beyond her own small community since leaving her girlhood home, Marty was unfamiliar with her present environment. She had seen and heard things on this trip that were entirely new to her. She didn't think she was in favor of a lot of what she saw--the brashness, the intemperate drinking, the gambling, the casual attitude toward life and morality.

Their meal arrived. The waiter asked gruffly, "Watcha drinkin'?" as he set the plates down, frowning when Marty asked for tea. She hastily changed her order to coffee before he had time to respond. He didn't fuss about the coffee, but when he set it before her it was so strong she wasn't sure if she'd be able to drink it.

The meat was a little tough and the gravy was greasy and lumpy, but Marty sopped her biscuits in it and ate like the men in the corner. She was unable to finish it all and was relieved when she felt she had eaten enough that she could push back her plate and leave the rest. Clark had a second cup of coffee, and then they were free to go.

Marty was unprepared for the bright sunshine when they stepped out the door. She had forgotten that it was still daylight. She took advantage of the fact to study the buildings of the town and look in the store windows. The items on display did not really seem all that different from what Mr. Emory carried at the General Store back home. The fact both surprised and relieved her. Perhaps Missie was able to shop after all.

It was too early to retire, so Clark suggested a short walk. Marty didn't like the wind but, remembering her confining attempt to walk in the dirty little room, she agreed. They walked on past the remainder of the buildings on the street:

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the bank, the sheriff's office, the telegraph office, another store, on past the stagecoach office to the feedstore, the livery and the blacksmith. Clark slowed his steps to better watch the action at the smithy's. Two burly men were shouting and shoving as they prodded a big roan-colored ox into the ox-sling for shoeing. The ox had decided on his own that he didn't need new shoes. Marty heard some words that she didn't think were intended for a lady's ears, so she hastened her steps. Clark lengthened his stride to catch up to her.

Having eventually left the board sidewalks behind, the roadway was dusty and rough, but it felt good to walk full stride. Marty let go of her skirt, allowing the hem to swish the ground as she walked. The wind wasn't as strong now, or maybe she was just getting used to it. She took off her hat, carrying it carefully in her hand, and letting the wind tease at her hair. It felt good, and she wished for a moment that she could reach up and pull the hairpins from it as well and shake it loose to blow free.

They left the street and turned on to a well-worn path. It led them into a grove of small trees; and, after walking for about fifteen minutes, they were surprised to discover a tiny stream that flowed rather sluggishly along. It wasn't like Marty's spring-fed crik back home, but it was water; and its discovery brought rest and joy to Marty's heart. She stooped to pick a few of the small fragrant flowers that grew along its banks.

Clark seemed to enjoy it, too. He stood and breathed deeply. "I wonder jest where it comes from," he murmured, "an' where it goes. This little bit thet we see here before us don't tell us much 'bout it a'tall. It could have started high up in the mountains as a ragin' glacier-fed river and been givin' of itself all across the miles until all thet is left is what we see here. Or it could go 'most from ocean to ocean by joinin' up with cousin waters thet eventually make it a mighty river. Someday it could carry barges or sailin' ships. Rather interestin' to ponder on, ain't it?"

Marty looked at the small stream with a new respect. They lingered awhile, and then walked much more slowly

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back into town. On the way they watched the western sun sink below the far horizon with a gorgeous display of vibrant colors.

"Well," sighed Marty, "I sure do favor me Missie's sunsets."

The hotel room looked just as bleak and bare when they again reached it, but Marty felt much better about having a clean bed. And she was sure enough ready for it now. After two nights on a swaying train, it would be good to have a solid place to lie down. They prepared for bed, prayed together, and crawled between the sheets. Clark put out the light, and before many minutes had passed Marty knew that he was sleeping soundly. She lay for a while thinking of the family at home and feeling just a bit lonely. Then she thought of Missie and her family, and the lonely feeling slipped away. Soon she too drifted off to sleep.

It was sometime during the night when Marty awoke. Something was wrong. Something had wakened her. Was it a noise of some sort? No, she didn't remember hearing anything out of the ordinary. Clark stirred. He seemed restless too. Marty turned over and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work. She turned again.

"You havin' problems, too?" asked Clark softly.

"Can't sleep," Marty complained. "Don't rightly know why, I jest--"

"Me, too."

They tossed and turned as the minutes ticked slowly by. "What time is it?" asked Marty. "Anywhere near mornin'?

Might as well git up an' be done with it iffen it is."

Clark reached for his watch. He couldn't read the hands in the darkness.

"Mind iffen I light the lamp to git a look?"

"Go ahead. Lamplight ain't gonna make me any wider awake than I am already."

Clark struck a match and lit the lamp. As the soft glow spread over the bed, Marty gasped. Clark, who had moved the pocket watch into the light to get a look at the time, jerked his head up.

"Bedbugs!" exclaimed Marty.

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Both of them were instantly on their feet and many small insects darted quickly for cover.

"Bedbugs! No wonder we couldn't sleep! Oh, Clark! We'll be scratchin' our way all across these prairies."

"Funny," said Clark, "I never felt 'em bitin' me."

"Thet's the way with bedbugs. Sometimes ya don't even feel 'em until the bite starts to swell up an' itch. You'll feel 'em fer sure tomorrow, I'm a-thinkin'."

Marty ran to check their cases and thankfully noted that they were tightly closed. Only their bodies and the clothing about the room to worry about.

"Clark, when we leave this here place, we gotta be awful sure thet we don't take none of them with us."

"An' how we gonna do thet?"

"I'm not rightly sure. One thing I do know--thet light stays on fer the rest of the night, an' I'm not crawlin' back into thet bed."

They washed carefully, then inspected each item of their clothing before they put it on. Marty brushed and brushed and brushed her hair in the hopes that if there were any of the little creatures in her hair, she would brush them out. None appeared. She didn't quite know whether that was a good sign or a bad one.

After checking and rechecking, they packed their belongings carefully and closed the cases tightly. Marty put the cases as close to the lamp as she could and stood vigil. It was still only four o'clock . . . hardly the hour of the morning to take to the street.

They managed to wait until the first rays of the dawn were showing on the eastern horizon, and then they left the hotel. The room had been paid for in advance, so Clark just tossed the key on the desk; the sleeping clerk stirred slightly, murmured something inaudible, and settled back to snoring. They walked through the unpainted doors and out into the street.

"Where are we gonna go?" questioned Marty. "Nothin' will be open yet."

"Well, there's a bench over there in front of the sheriff's office. How 'bout sittin' in the sun fer a spell?"