Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (20 page)

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travel, thet we ought to try to even things up a bit, an' put the church 'bout halfway fer everyone."

"I'm 'bout halfway!" cried Mr. Newton, jumping to his feet. "I shore would be right proud to be givin' some of my land fer a church."

Others nodded, their eyes shining; it was agreed that the church building could be located on the Newton ranch. "We'll need us timber an' materials an' a buildin' plan," said Henry. "Lots of things to be decided."

"Then let's git us a committee," someone called.

It was decided that Willie, Henry, and Mr. Newton would be the building committee. The rest of the congregation would wait for orders and do their bidding. Excitement ran so high that tongues could not slow down even when Missie served coffee and cookies. They were going to have their own church! It was a dream come true.

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Chapter Twenty-two

Moving

Marty wrote another long letter home. They would not be returning to the farm until the next spring. Though Clark was daily gaining strength and was now able to stand the train trip, he was going to stay and help establish the new church by giving the people lessons from the Scriptures and encouraging them in their building project.

Marty was pleased to see the enthusiasm with which Clark greeted each new day. He spent hours poring over his well- worn Bible, and as his eyes found new truths, his lips shared them with others. He could not even wait for Sundays but spoke excitedly with anyone who was within listening distance.

Clark also was busy with other matters, thinking often of little inventions that would help him in overcoming his handicap. Daily his independence was growing. He scarcely needed help with anything anymore. He even devised a way to again ride horseback with the men or with Nathan. He moved about the ranch on his own, carrying buckets or saddles in the hand

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that wasn't busy with the crutch. He traveled to the garden and helped to dig the last of Missie's vegetables. He went with Nathan to gather eggs and prepared fryers for Sunday dinner. Watching him move about with confidence and assurance, Marty marvelled and rejoiced.

Missie, too, was glad to see her father up and around again. But she still could not keep from fussing over him. In her admiration for him, she chose to show her love by trying to make him comfortable whenever she came near him, by feeding him special treats from the kitchen, by entertaining him with chats and games. Marty could no longer ignore her concern. Surely Willie could not help but miss the attention that should rightly have been his.

Marty took a walk, hardly knowing how to handle her problem. Certainly Clark was loved in Missie's home. Willie had great respect for him. Missie loved him deeply, and the boys doted on their grandfather. Still, Willie's immediate family needed their own father and husband, and he needed Missie and their sons.

Marty wondered just how to discuss the problem with Clark. Would he see her concern and understand? What could they do? They were committed now to staying for the winter. And it wasn't possible to live in Missie's home and shut oneself away.

At last Marty decided that she must at least talk about the problem with Clark. If he did not see it as anything to get concerned about, then Marty too would try once again to put it from her mind.

That night after they had retired, Marty timidly broached the subject. She hoped Clark wouldn't think that she was just being foolish.

"I've been a-thinkin'," said Marty slowly. "It must be rather difficult fer Willie with us here."

"Willie?"

"Well, it wouldn't be, normally. But now, with yer accident an' all."

"I try not to cut in on Willie's time," answered Clark. "I know thet he's a very busy man. I've even found a few little

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ways thet I've been able to help lately."

"Oh, Willie ain't feelin' thet yer a loafer," assured Marty quickly. "I know thet. He's always tellin' me jest how special it is for 'im to have ya here. An' he tells me too of how ya been organizin' the corrals an' fixin' up his barn."

"Yer talkin"bout his family, huh?"

"Ya mean--"

"I've been thinkin' on it, too. Missie fusses far too much. It's done in love, an' I 'preciate it, but it don't leave her much time fer fussin' over her husband--over the boys, too. I love 'em both dearly. But they're gittin' so's they come to me when they scratch a knee or pound a finger."

"You've noticed!" exclaimed Marty with relief.

"I've noticed. An' now thet you've noticed, it won't be near so hard fer me to make the suggestion thet I been thinkin' on." "Suggestion?"

"Well, we can't jest up an' pull out now. They do need us to git thet there little church started. We can't leave 'em now, Marty."

Marty agreed.

"An' it don't seem too smart to be a-carryin' on here in the same household as Willie an' Missie. Two families in the same house--especially when one of 'em is the grandparents--often don't work so good."

"So?" Marty queried.

"So I think thet it's 'bout time fer a move."

"A move? Now where could we move? Yer not thinkin' of goin' into thet wild town--"

Clark stopped her with a laugh. "No, no wild town." "Then--"

"The soddy."

"The--the
soddy?"
Marty was incredulous.

"Why not? Willie and Missie lived in it fer two winters, an' they had Nathan at the time. Surely you an' me could stand it fer one. Jest the two of us. I've been thinkin' thet it might even be fun." Marty still looked unconvinced.

"I've been checkin' it over," Clark went on enthusiastically. "The walls are sturdy, the windows in place. The roof looks

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real good. Guess Willie jest had a new one put on to humor Missie fer our comin' out here. No reason a'tall why we couldn't be nice an' comfy fer the winter there."

Marty's initial aversion to the idea began to drain away. She laughed softly. "Well, I never dreamed thet I'd be livin' in a soddy. An' at my age!"

"Ya keep referrin' to yer age," said Clark. "I refuse to consider myself married to an old woman, so ya jest better stop sayin' thet."

Marty laughed again.

"Well," prompted Clark. "What 'bout the soddy? Ya willin'? It still has the furniture--such as it is."

"Why not?" said Marty. "Think of the time thet I'll have jest to sit an' read or sew. Not much to keepin' a soddy up."

"Then it's settled. We'll move in first thing tomarra."

"Don't ya think thet Missie might need some time to be thinkin' on the idea?"

"She'll git used to it. Ya give her time, an' she might jest think of all the reasons why we shouldn't."

"Maybe," agreed Marty. "All right, we'll move tomarra then."

She kissed Clark and turned over to go to sleep. In the darkness, a smile played around her lips. She and Clark were going to live in a soddy! Wouldn't her friends back home think that something else? Well, she'd have her share of experiences to tell them, that was for sure. She could hardly wait to write a letter back home to the children. Imagine that--she and Clark living in a soddy!

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Chapter Twenty-three

Callers

The next morning at the breakfast table, Nathan was busy shoving in Wong's muffins and making plans for himself and his grandfather for the day.

"An' we can ride over to the big hill an' look right over the range to where all the hands will be drivin' the cattle. We can see 'em start off on the trail drive to the town market. An'--"

"Whoa, cowboy," said Clark. "Thet shore sounds like a lot of fun all right, but I'm afraid thet I can't be runnin' off today. Fact is, I was thinkin' of askin' fer yer help today."

Nathan looked at his grandfather with surprise but quickly shifted his plans. "Sure, Grandpa. I'll help ya."

Josiah cut in. "Me help G'an'pa."

"You're too little," Nathan broke in, but Clark was quick to reassure the younger boy. "Shore ya can help. We gonna need all the hands thet we can git."

Josiah beamed at being included.

"What're you up to?" asked Missie, her curiosity overcoming her.

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"Yer ma and me decided to move today."

"Move?"

"Yep."

"Stop your joshin'," said Missie.

"Not joshin'. Never been more serious."

"Then what do you mean, 'move'?"

"Well, we decided thet it might be kinda fun to spend a winter in the soddy."

"You
are
joshin'!" Missie could not believe that Clark was serious.

"No, I'm not."

"Why would you ever do that?"

"Why not? The soddy is snug and warm and big enough fer the two of us. It would be an adventure to talk about when we git back home."

"Oh, Pa," said Missie in exasperation. "Don't talk about anything so silly."

"Little girl," said Clark firmly, "It's not silly and I really am serious 'bout this."

Missie turned to Marty. "Tell me he's only teasin'." "No," said Marty matter-of-factly. "He's not. We talked it all over last night. We decided thet it would be better fer all of us if we lived separate fer the winter."

Missie arose from her chair, her face white and set.

"I don't understand one word of what you're sayin'," she said. "Iffen you're serious, I'd like to know why. Haven't we been carin' for you--?"

Clark interrupted her. "My dear," he said gently, "ya shore as the world have been doin' everythin' fer me--an fer yer ma. An' we 'preciate it--more'n we ever could say. But now thet I'm gittin' about an' am able to sorta care fer myself some, well, yer ma an' me think thet it's 'bout time thet yer family had ya back ag'in--all to themselves."

Willie's eyes widened, then he lowered his gaze. Marty knew that he would say nothing, but she also knew that he had realized they understood well the situation in his home.

"That's silly," fumed Missie. "My family has had me all along. Never have I been more'n a few feet away from any of

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them. Why, they always knew right where to find me. We've loved havin' you here. After all, it was because you came to see us that you lost that leg."

Clark interrupted. "Missie, I don't want to ever hear ya say thet I lost my leg because I came here. It coulda happened at home jest as well as here. The place has nothin' to do with it, an' I never want ya to feel any kind of guilt thet the accident happened because I was here."

Missie lowered her eyes and brushed aside Clark's comment. "Well," she said, "I won't feel guilt--I promise--but I still don't understand your wantin' to move on out. We love to have you here. Before we know it, the winter will be over an' you'll be off home again. We want you here as much as possible. Tell 'em, Willie," she implored her husband. But Willie merely continued eating his scrambled eggs and muffins.

"Tell 'em, Willie," Missie said again.

Willie swallowed and looked from one to the other. It was apparent that he did not wish to be involved in the discussion. Clark spoke up before Willie was obliged to answer for himself.

"We know thet our son-in-law would never suggest thet we leave his home an' his table. We really want to do it, Missie, not because we are not welcome here, but because we feel thet it would be good fer all of us. We'll be right nearby and can come in fer coffee whenever we need a stroll. Yer ma will be over often to borrow cups of sugar and talk 'girl talk.' The boys can come an' visit us in the soddy." Clark winked. "It could be jest a heap of fun. Marty an' I have never lived all by ourselves, ya know."

"An' nothin' that I can say will make you change your mind?" Missie said, in one last effort at persuasion.

" 'Fraid not. Iffen the winter gits too tough an' we begin to get cold, we might come crawlin' back a-beggin' to be 'llowed in," said Clark, in an effort to keep things light.

"I'll let ya in, Grandpa," assured Nathan, and everyone began to laugh.

"I'll let ya in, G'an'pa," echoed Josiah, not wanting to be outdone.

Missie moved for the coffeepot. "Well, if you are determined

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to do it, I guess I can't stop you, but I still don't like it."

"Look, honey," said Marty, understanding how the girl felt, "if we didn't think thet it is fer the best, we wouldn't do it. Honest! Jest give it a chance, will ya, Missie? Iffen it doesn't seem to be workin' fer the best of all concerned, we'll move back in here. Please?"

Missie brightened some and leaned over to kiss Marty on her forehead.

"I'm sorry. It just took me off-guard like." She managed a smile. "Iffen you're sure that it's what you want, my soddy is all yours. But I'm warnin' you, Mama, it can get awful cramped on a winter's day."

Marty laughed. "Well, I have an advantage thet you didn't have, my dear."

"Meanin'?" asked Missie.

"You," said Marty. "Iffen I git to feelin' cramped, I can jest bundle up an' make a dash fer yer big, beautiful home. You didn't have a big house nor a daughter nearby, so ya jest had to sit tight."

Missie smiled again. "Well, I hope that you feel cramped real often," she said. "Then you'll visit me lots."

Clark put down his empty cup. "Well, fellas," he said to the boys, "guess we'd better git started with this here move."

The boys scrambled down and led the way to the bedroom that had been known as Grandpa and Grandma's for the last few months. Clark followed, his crutch beating a rhythmic tatoo behind them.

"I'll see what I can find for rugs an' blankets," offered Missie. "You'll need some decent dishes, too. Those in the soddy are in bad shape."

"Now, don't ya fuss none," Marty warned her daughter, but she knew that she might as well bid the sun not to shine. Missie was sure to fuss. Marty just shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps in the fussing Missie would find some fun. She followed Missie out, determined to make a real adventure for them all on this moving day.

The nights were cooler now, and the wood fire in the old