Promise of Blessing (7 page)

J
OSIE
AND
H
ARLAND
were half-frozen by the time they reached home, but Clae had a good fire going in stove.
 
Clae immediately wanted to talk, but he had to wait for them to thaw out a little first.

After recounting all the day’s joys and trials, Harland summed up the options for Clae and Josie.
 
He could sell his half of the existing homestead to Clae and take a loan to buy another, existing farm.
 
This had been his original plan, but Clae did not like the idea of them both borrowing so much money, and Harland could see the wisdom in that.
 
Secondly, he could buy a farm with a loan, and Clae and Josie could pay him over time for his share in theirs.
 
Thirdly, he could stake a new claim, which would mean starting from scratch on an unbroken piece of land, probably some distance away.
 
It would also mean having to improve the land for another five years, which he was reluctant to do for a second time, but willing enough if it came to it.

They discussed the matter for some time, but none of the options seemed quite satisfactory.
 
After praying together, they decided to wait on the Lord’s answer, and in the meantime, Harland would discuss it with Beth – if she agreed to his proposal, of course.

Harland barely slept.
 
Each time they woke up, Clae and Josie heard him pacing in his room.
 
He set out as early as possible in the morning.
 
Josie thought that the Dreschers would be awfully surprised when he came charging into their house while they were still at breakfast, but she made no comment.

To pass the anxious time while they awaited his return, Clae and Josie did all the necessary chores, and a few unnecessary ones, as well.
 
They were tidying the kitchen garden when they were hailed by Thomas Niedham, the owner of the adjoining homestead.
 
He looked tired and extremely thin, but he was smiling.

Clae shook his hand.
 
“How do you do, Thomas?”

Mr Niedham shook his head.
 
“Well, that depends on which way you look at it.
 
You got a couple of minutes to talk business?”
 

“Of course.
 
Come inside.”

They all trooped into the house, stamping their feet against the cold, and Josie stoked the fire to boil water.

Once they were all seated with coffee and warmed-over biscuits, Clae said, “Now, what can I do for you?”

In between large bites, Mr Niedham explained that he and his family had come west with high hopes but a severe lack of knowledge, and although they had successfully worked their claim for the required time and the land was now theirs, a series of errors and general mismanagement had meant that their harvest each year had decreased.
 
This year, it had been so poor that he knew his family could not survive another winter.
 
That very morning, he had been offered a job back east, and he and his wife had decided to return home.
 
The decision had clearly relieved him of all his burdens but one:
 
he needed to sell his farm as quickly as possible.

“So I’d like to offer you and your brother first option,” he said.
 
“It’s plain you’ve done wonders with your land, and it may be you can make something of the mess I’d be leaving you.
 
Won’t be asking much for it, of course.
 
Just enough to get the family back east and settled.”

Clae’s eyes were sparkling, and Josie knew what he was thinking.
 
160 acres was more than enough land to support a family in the usual way, but not enough for truly commercial purposes.
 
But two, adjoining homesteads – that was a golden opportunity.
 
If the two McKinley families could join the farms and pool their resources….
 
Josie’s heart thumped in her chest.

“What might you be thinking about that?” pressed Mr Niedham.

Clae was pacing the floor, deep in thought.
 
Something outside caught his attention and he went to the window.
 
A wide smile spread across his face.
 
“I’d need to discuss it with my brother, of course, but since that’s him coming along the road right now, accompanied by the little lady who is, I do believe, his future bride, your offer just might be an answer to prayer.”
 

F
OR
J
OSIE
AND
Clae, the happy occasion of Harland and Beth’s betrothal and the blessing of the
 
Neidham farm were welcome distractions from their continuing disappointment.
 
The doctor could give them no answers, and none of Millie’s home remedies worked.

All around Josie were constant reminders.
 
Helena had her baby, a boy, as did several other women from the church.
 
Millie’s pregnancy was progressing well, and she was now allowing herself to plan for it.
 
On some days, the children in the school were a welcome panacea for Josie; on other days they troubled the painful emptiness in her heart.

Still, morning and night, she and Clae would read the 128th Psalm aloud and remind each other to speak as if the miracle, a child, was already theirs.

One Tuesday, Josie and the Drescher children were on their way to the schoolhouse when the prisoner wagon rattled past them and stopped up ahead at the sheriff’s office.
 
The rear door was opened and Josie was horrified to see Davis Judson pulled from the wagon and half-dragged into the building.

The news soon got around town.
 
Davis Judson had been arrested by Wyatt Earp for the recent thefts.
 
Earp and another deputy had visited the farm that morning and found Davis in a drunken state.
 
When Davis saw Earp, he tried to raise his rifle, but in his condition his movements were slow.
 
Earp stepped up and pistol-whipped him.
 

Davis later confessed to all the thefts, claiming over and over that he had only done it to keep his wife and son alive.

William Drescher and Walker Jones, owner of the general store, immediately went out to the Davis farm to check on Helena and the baby.
 
Millie went with them, at Josie’s request.
 
When Helena saw Mr Jones, she begged him to help her sell the few animals and other valuables that were left on the farm in order to pay back the families Davis had stolen from.
 
Mr Jones was so moved by her words and her situation that he and his wife took her in and helped to manage her affairs.
 

But there was worse to come.
 
The next day, one of Davis’s friends from Delano smuggled whisky in to him.
 
During the night, he was sick in his stupor, and when the sheriff came to check on him in the morning, he was dead.

Clae and Josie offered to take Helena in, but she said that she preferred to stay in town for the present.
 
She thought that she would use what very little money she would have from the sale of the farm to go back east, or perhaps further west to California, where an old friend and her husband lived.

Early one morning not many days before Christmas, Josie dreamed of horses.
 
Half-way between asleep and awake, she couldn’t be sure if the noise of hooves was in her dream or real.
 
When she came fully awake, blinking in the darkness, there was only silence.
 
Clae was still asleep beside her, a warm spot in the cold room, and the night outside the window was at its darkest.
 
She tried to fall asleep again, but felt restless.
 
Perhaps it was the thought of all the Christmas preparations that must be done, and the excitement of her first Christmas with Clae.

Finally, when she could just make out the grey outlines of the furniture in the room, she gave up and swung her feet to the floor.
 
Shivering madly, she went into the kitchen to stoke the fire.
 
Although she tried to be quiet, her wanderings woke Clae and he soon shuffled out of the bedroom in his stockings, bleary eyed.

“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to flatten his hair.

Josie started to nod, but thought for a moment and shook her head instead.
 
“No,” she said.
 
“This may sound like madness, but I feel strongly that something is wrong this morning.”

Clae sank into a chair by the table, his forehead wrinkled.
 
“Is it a feeling like someone’s churning butter in your stomach?”

“Yes, exactly that.
 
But maybe it’s because I’m excited about Christmas.”

“No,” Clae replied.
 
“I don’t think so.
 
I mean, I’m excited about Christmas, too, but this is something else.
 
Come here and let’s pray.”
 
He shivered.
 
“On second thought, I’ll come to you.”

He joined her by the hot stove and they prayed for the protection of their loved ones, the farm and their animals.
 
Then they spoke aloud their Psalm, which after so many weeks they both knew by heart.

Clae collected his boots and coat and began to put them on.
 
“I’m going to check on the animals,” he said.
 
When he opened the door, the icy wind took it out of his hands and slammed it shut again.

Josie watched the light of his lantern bob across the yard and disappear as he went inside the barn.
 
Less than two minutes later, the light appeared again, and where it reflected back off his body, Josie could see that he was clutching a large bundle.
 
She held the door open for him and he hurried inside, hunched over a basket, the open top of which he held to his chest.
 
Josie took the lantern, which dangled precariously from his two free fingers, and blew it out.

“Is one of the animals sick?” she asked, reaching for the basket.

Clae lowered it gently to the table, shaking his head, and took one step backwards.

Josie stared and made an incoherent noise.
 
Inside the basket, wrapped in layers upon layers of blankets, was a baby, fast asleep.

“F – found it…up on a bale – hay bale – with the cows.
 
It’s warm.
 
It’s fine.”

“But who…?”
 
Josie’s voice trailed off.
 
She looked hard at the baby’s face.
 
Her hands shaking, she began to fold back the layers of cloth.
 
Only the first few layers were actually blankets.
 
The rest were pieces of fabric – the baby’s tiny clothes and cloth diapers.
 
Josie recognised some of her own handiwork, and her stomach clenched into a hard knot.
 
Finally, over the little boy’s chest, she found a scrap of paper, on which a note was written: