Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (3 page)

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their young family might need. How much dare she accumulate before the train company--or Clark--would declare that she had far too much baggage? She sighed as she tried to select the most important items.

Clark occasionally tried to draw from Marty an estimated day for departure. She knew that a decision must be made. Clark had many responsibilities of his own that needed to be assigned to others. He couldn't properly sort them out until Marty had given him some kind of idea as to when she would be ready to go. She didn't know whether to hope that Clare would set the wedding date for immediately or postpone it until they were sure to be back.

Then, of course, there were the other children. True, Ellie was capable of caring for the household, but it seemed like a big job to put on such slender shoulders. Marty conveniently forgot that at Ellie's age she had already been a married woman.

Yet Marty's heart was most concerned for Luke, her gentle youngest. How she wished that she could take him with her. At the same time, she was afraid to suggest it, even to Clark. What if Luke did go, and what if he decided that he liked Missie's West, and what if he decided not to come back when Clark and Marty returned home? No, she'd best leave Luke safely where he was. She had no desire to have another child so far away from home.

So Marty spent her days musing and fretting. She tried not to let it show, but it did. Each of the family noticed it and finally decided that something needed to be done or Marty would wear herself out. Nandry and Clae made arrangements for the care of their children and planned a trip to the city by local stagecoach for shopping. Ellie was invited to go along. The necessary items were purchased and prepared for travel. Marty was afraid she was spending an inappropriate amount of Clark's money, but she did rather enjoy this unusual extravagance. She purchased a few pretty things to take to Missie as well. Who knew whether Missie had had opportunity to shop at all since leaving her home?

Clare discussed his marriage plans with his sweet Kate and, with the help of her mother, they were able to arrive at a

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suitable date. They wisely agreed that a hurried wedding would not be a good start for their marriage, so August 27 was chosen. Clark and Marty would have no problem being home by then. Clare and Kate planned to live in Clark's first little log home, so Clare would spend the intervening time preparing the place for occupancy, and Kate would spend her time on new curtains and floor rugs.

Ellie asked many questions and advice on the running of the home and the tending of the garden--questions to which she already knew the answers, but she knew that it would help her mother depart with greater peace of mind if she explained it all again. Ellie assured Marty that she was looking forward to the experience, and Marty felt that it might truly be an adventure for the girl. Nandry and Clae promised to lend a hand if ever she needed assistance.

Luke took to making subtle comments on the coming separation. He suggested that it would be good for all of them to spend some time on their own and learn some independence. He pointed out to Marty that he would be spending most evenings studying for the entrance exams for college the coming fall and he would have very little time for socializing even with family members; the additional quiet of the house during their absence would be very helpful in giving him extra study time. Marty sensed that he was trying to put her mind at ease about going off and leaving him, and she appreciated his concern.

Many times a day Marty went through the mental sorting of what she wished to take. She eyed her garden, her canned goods, her sewing materials, her chicken coop--she even eyed the milk cows. She shook her head. How in the world would she ever decide? At length, she knew that she could never be sensible, so she asked for help from her family in the final decision. Eventually it was narrowed down to a list over which Clark did not mournfully shake his head.

At length Clark was given the go-ahead. He could set a date for departure. It seemed that within a few more days, Marty could be ready to go.

"When are ya leavin'?" asked Ma Graham when they had a minute together after the church service.

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Marty was relieved that she actually had a date.

"Well, we take the stage out from town on Wednesday, and go on over to catch the train out of the city the next mornin'," she replied.

"Ain't ya excited?" Ma asked, but didn't need nor wait for an answer. "My, I miss thet girl of yourn so much myself thet I can jest imagine how yer feelin'. Give Missie a big kiss an' hug fer me. I have a little somethin' here thet I want ya to take on out to her. I didn't dare send nothin' big--ya havin' so much of yer own stuff to tend to, so I jest made her a little lace doilie fer her table."

Marty hugged Ma warmly, the tears shining in her eyes. "Missie will 'preciate it so much," she said.

And so the packing of the crates, cases, and trunk was done; the clothes for travel carefully laid out; and the scattered items and thoughts collected. Many last-minute instructions, some necessary and some only for Marty's sake, were given to the three boys and Ellie. There was some measure of assurance in just reviewing them over and over.

Clare and Arnie had been farming right along with Clark for a number of years, so Clark had no doubts about their ability to care for things. They each had a piece of their own land to farm now, too, but they could handle it all in Clark's absence. They had been instructed to get help if ever they needed it, and Luke was anxious to be all the help that his studying time would allow.

It was understood without actually being discussed that Luke probably would never be a farmer. He had a very keen mind and a sensitive spirit and was presently leaning toward the idea of being a medical doctor. Clark and Marty felt he would be a great honor to them as a doctor, but Luke was not pushed for a commitment on his future.

And so the farming was left to the boys and the kitchen to Ellie. Marty knew that she was quite able to care for the needs of the brothers; still Marty fretted some as she thought of all the work ahead for the young girl.

The day of their departure dawned clear and bright. The warm sunshine spilled down upon the waking world. Marty

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was up even before Clark and, in her excitement, flitted about caring for last-minute things that really needed no attention. Her efforts were not totally without value, for it did give her something to do until it was time for them to load into the spring-seated wagon and head for town.

Their four children from home accompanied them, and when they arrived--too early--at the stagecoach offices, Nandry and Josh and their family, and Clae and Joe and Esther Sue were already there.

The excitement was felt by everyone and resulted in too many talking at once, too much nervous activity, and too many near-wild children. Clark grinned at the whole tension- filled bunch of them and called a halt to the bustle of activity and noisy chatter.

"Whoa," he called, lifting up his hand, his signal for quiet. "How 'bout we see iffen we can git a little order out of this confusion?" Everyone stopped mid-sentence and mid-step and then began to laugh.

"I suggest," went on Clark, "thet we go on over to the hotel an' have us a cup of coffee an' a sandwich. Be a heap quieter, an' we still have lots of time to kill before this here stage is gonna be leavin'." Eventually they all fell into line and headed for the hotel and the promised coffee. Josh broke line, whispered to Nandry and then fished in his pocket.

"Tina, yer ma says it be okay fer ya to take these here little ones over to the General Store fer a candy treat. It being a special day, how 'bout ya all git two pieces of yer favorite kind."

Shouts of approval answered him, and he passed Tina the coins. She took Mary and Esther Sue by the hands and headed for the promised treat. Andrew disdained holding hands and marched off on his own. Baby Jane was content to be held in her mother's arms and to put up with the grown-ups while they visited over coffee cups.

When they finally were seated and had placed their orders, the talking did become a bit more orderly. They even waited for one another to finish their sentences before breaking in. Marty knew that her churning stomach had no interest in a sandwich. She ordered a cup of tea and sipped at it now and

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then between her involvement in the talk and laughter. The men ordered sandwiches and even pieces of pie to go with them. Marty wondered fleetingly how they ever managed it, only a few hours since they had downed a big breakfast.

Departure time seemed to be in no hurry to come. The food had been eaten; the cups drained, replenished, and drained again; the same admonitions given and repeated; and the same assurances spoken over and over. Marty fidgeted in her seat. Clark at last said that he supposed they could go on out and check on the progress of the stagecoach.

As they stood chatting before the stagecoach office, Zeke LaHaye, Willie's pa, joined them. He greeted them all with one nod and sweep of his hat, then reached to shake Clark's hand.

"Guess I needn't tell ya how I be a-envyin' ya. Sure would love to head on out with ya. Always had me a-hankerin' to see the west country, an' with my boy out there it sure does git awfully hard to jest hold myself here at home sometimes."

"Well, now," said Clark, "ya jest ought to throw in yer bedroll an' come along."

Zeke answered with a smile. "Sure do be temptin'. Did bring this here little parcel iffen ya be thinkin' thet ya can find a little room fer it someplace. Hate to be a-botherin' ya like, but it jest ain't possible to let ya go without sendin' somethin' along fer my family."

"No trouble. No trouble a'tall," assured Clark and placed the parcel with the growing stack of their belongings.

Marty looked at the big pile of "things" going west. There were all of their own daily necessities, the many things they had packed to take to Willie and Missie, the added articles from Clae and Nandry, the gifts from Ma Graham, Wanda Marshall, Sally Anne, and some from Missie's students during her teaching days. Yes, the pile had grown and grown and, indeed, each additional item meant "more trouble," but she would have no more denied Zeke LaHaye the pleasure of sending something to his family than she would have denied herself. She'd discard her hatbox if necessary in order to make room.

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The stage finally appeared, two minutes early, and all of the baggage and crates were loaded. Zeke's package fit in too, and Marty was able to take even the hatbox.

Over and over the words, "Ya tell Willie . . ." or "Give Missie . . ." or "Kiss them for me" were echoed from their loving family members. Marty turned to each one with tears in her eyes and pounding heart. It was so exciting to finally be on their way; if only "good-byes" didn't need to come before one had the pleasure of "hellos." She kissed Luke one last time, gave Ellie one more hug, threw kisses to the many-timeskissed grandchildren, and hurried forward lest the stage pull away without her.

The good-bye shouts followed them on down the road. Marty leaned from the window for one last wave before the coach turned the corner, and then she settled back against the already warm seat.

"I do declare," she remarked seriously to Clark, "I do believe thet travelin' be awful hard work. I feel all worn out like."

"We've barely started travelin', Marty," Clark laughed softly. "It's not the travelin' thet has ya all tuckered. It's the gettin' ready and the excitement. From now on, ya have nothin' to do but jest rest."

Marty smiled at Clark's calm assessment but looked rather doubtful. How could she ever rest when her whole body vibrated with excited energy? Well, she'd try. She'd try.

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Chapter Four

The City

It seemed to be an awfully long, dusty, warm stagecoach trip to the big city where they would catch the train. At least in their own farm wagon, they could catch the breezes and stop to stretch their legs. The morning sun moved up high in the sky and beat down unmercifully. The open windows helped a little. The other three passengers were men. Clark talked to them some, but Marty had little interest in the conversation. Besides, her mind was on many other things. In spite of the warmth in the stagecoach, Marty knew that a stylish traveling lady did not remove her hat, even in the heat of the day; but how she longed to slip hers from her warm head and let it lay in her lap.

They stopped to change horses and to allow the passengers a few moments to walk around a bit. Marty was glad for the relief. Then on they went again, bumping over the rough tracks of the road. Marty had assumed from looking that the road was rather smooth and rutless; but the stage wheels seemed to find bumps enough.

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At noon hour another rest stop was taken, and Marty crawled stiffly down with Clark's assistance and sought out the shade of some nearby trees. The men scattered in various directions to walk, sit, or stretch out on the cool grass.

Marty took her little lunch bag with her and spread out a noonday meal of sandwiches and cool drink with tarts and cookies for dessert. Marty herself wasn't much interested, but Clark was. It appeared that the traveling was not adversely affecting his appetite.

All too soon the stage was ready to move on again. They left the coolness of the trees and took their places on the hot, dusty leather seats. The minutes of the afternoon were ticked off by the grinding and bumping of the wheels and the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves. Occasionally, a hoot or shout from the driver would call some new order to the teams.

In spite of herself, Marty found her head nodding. The heat, the inactivity, and the fact that she had been missing some of her sleep all helped to make her drowsy. But it was hard to sleep comfortably in the jostling wagon; as soon as she would begin to slip into relaxing slumber, another bump or shake would snap her awake. It was worse than no sleep at all. She shifted her position and fought to remain awake.

A change of teams at another stagecoach station broke up the monotony of the afternoon. Marty's back and legs ached, and she was thankful for the stretch. She thought of Missie's long journey west by wagon train and more fully appreciated their courage through the discomfort of it all.

It was almost suppertime when the stagecoach pulled into the city station. Marty leaned forward to eagerly see all that she could as they traveled the busy, crowded streets, then checked herself. She was
not
acting like a lady, and she settled back against the seat and allowed only her eyes to peer out of the shallow window.

After alighting, Marty walked around, flexing her muscles and observing all of the strange sights and sounds, as Clark collected their belongings and made the proper arrangements for everything to be on the morning's train west. All they took with them now were two cases and Marty's hatbox. Marty felt