Love's Long Journey Page 2

  Missie trudged on, placing one tired foot before the other. Even in sturdy walking shoes, her feet looked small, and she knew the plain brown cotton frock did not hide her youthfulness. She had overheard two fellow travelers commenting on “thet wisp of a thing ain’t gonna last a week—why, she can’t possibly be more’n fifteen!” She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry about the whole exchange, so she decided to do neither. They probably wouldn’t believe she had a normalschool teaching certificate and two years of teaching behind her. But she certainly intended to prove them wrong and pull her weight with the rest of this little traveling community.

  Missie now raised a hand to push away some hair that had come untucked and insisted upon wisping about her face. Strands of it clung to the dampness of her moist forehead. She knew her normally fair cheeks were flushed from the heat of the day. In spite of homesickness, weariness, and the hot sun overhead, she couldn’t help feeling Willie’s enthusiasm and excitement as she looked forward to their new life in their own place.

  Missie’s attention was drawn back to her traveling companions. Some of the women were now gathering dry sticks and twigs as they followed the wagons. A number of children also were running here and there, picking up suitable fuel, as well. They must be anticipating stopping soon, Missie thought, so she, too, began to look about as she walked, gathering fuel for her own fire.

  A commotion ahead brought Missie’s attention back to the wagons. The drivers were breaking line and maneuvering into a circle as they had been instructed that morning. Missie’s steps quickened. It wouldn’t be long now until she would be resting in some shade. How wonderful it would be just to sit down for a spell and let the afternoon breeze cool her warm face and body! She was looking forward, also, to chatting with Willie and learning how he had fared in the short time they had been apart.

  Missie wondered, with a fluttering of her pulse, if tonight by their campfire would be the time to whisper to Willie about her growing conviction that perhaps they were to become parents. She was quite sure now, though she still had not mentioned it to him. Don’t want to raise false hopes—or cause concern for no reason, she had told herself.

  Would Willie be pleased? She knew how he loved youngsters, and she knew his eagerness to have a son of his own. But she could also guess his concern for her in their current circumstances. He had hoped to make the trip west and be settled in their own home before starting a family. A long wagon trip could be very difficult for an expectant mother. Yes, Willie might just feel the baby could have selected a more appropriate and convenient time.

  Missie had no such misgivings. She was young and healthy, and besides, they would reach Willie’s land long before the baby was due. Still, she had to admit to herself that she had put off telling Willie her suspicions until they were actually on the trail. She had been somewhat anxious that if he knew, he would suggest postponing their journey until after the birth, and to Missie’s thinking, he had experienced enough delay already.

  So she had kept her precious secret. She hadn’t dared even share it with her mother, though her whole being ached to do so. She’ll fret, Missie had told herself. She’ll never rest easy for one night while we’re on the trail.

  In the distance Missie spotted their wagons side by side in the big circle. Willie was unhitching the team from their first wagon, and Henry Klein, their hired driver, was working with the second team. When they had begun to load weeks before, it became evident one wagon was not going to be sufficient to provide both living quarters on the way plus transportation for all their supplies and household needs. Missie’s father, Clark, had suggested the second wagon and had even helped in locating a driver. Many other members of the wagon train also had more than one wagon, but most of them were fortunate enough to have another family member who could drive the teams. Willie wouldn’t have considered for one minute Missie’s serving in such a capacity.

  As Missie neared their wagons, the twenty-seventh one creaked into position, the driver sweating and shouting to his horses as they completed the circle for the train’s overnight stop.

  Missie approached Willie now and responded to his grin with a smile of her own.

  “Been a long day. Yer lookin’ tired,” he said, concern in his eyes.

  “I am a bit. The sun’s been so hot it sure takes the starch out of me.”

  “It’s time fer a good rest. Bit of that shade should revive ya some. Ya wantin’ me to bring ya a stool or a blanket from the wagon to sit on?”

  “I’ll do it. You have the team to care for.”

  “Mr. Blake says there’s a stream jest beyond thet stand of timber there. We’re gonna take all the stock down fer a drink an’ then tether them in the draw. Blake says there’s plenty a’ grass there.”

  “What time are you wanting supper?” Missie asked.

  “Not fer a couple hours anyway. Ya got lotsa time fer a rest.”

  “I’ll need more firewood. I didn’t start gathering soon enough. That little bit I brought in won’t last any time.”

  “No rush fer a fire, either. I’ll bring some wood back with me. Henry won’t mind bringin’ some, too. Ya jest git a little time outta thet hot sun fer a while—ya look awfully tuckered out.” Willie’s voice continued to sound anxious.

  “It’s just the excitement and strangeness of it all, I expect. I’ll get used to it. But right now I think I’ll take a bit of rest in the shade of those trees. I’ll be as good as new when I can get off my feet some.”

  Willie left with the horses and the two milk cows that had been tied behind the wagons. Missie went for a blanket to place on the ground in the shade of the trees.

  She felt a bit guilty as she lowered herself onto the blanket. All the other women were busy with something. Well, she’d just rest a short while and then she would begin their supper preparations, as well. For the moment it felt good just to sit.

  Missie leaned back comfortably against the trunk of a tree and closed her eyes, turning her head slightly so she could take full advantage of the gentle breeze. It teased at the loose strands of her hair and fanned her flushed face. All her bones cried out for a warm, relaxing soak in a tub. If she were home... but Missie quickly put that thought away from her. Her folks’ big white house with its homey kitchen and wide stairway was no longer her home. The upstairs room with its cheerful rugs and frilly curtains was no longer her room. She was totally Willie’s responsibility now, and Willie was hers. She prayed a short prayer that she would be worthy of such a man as her Willie—that God would help her make a home for him filled with happiness and love. And then, her eyes still closed, she felt the achiness weighing her whole body down on the blanket.

  Ignore it, she commanded herself. Ignore it, and it will go away.

  TWO

  Day’s End

  When Missie opened her eyes again, she was surprised at the changes that had taken place around her. It was much cooler now, and the sun that had shone down with such intense heat during the day was hanging, friendly and placid, low in the western sky.

  The smell of woodsmoke was heavy in the air—a sharp, pleasant smell—and the odors of cooking food and boiling coffee made her insides twinge with hunger. Now fully awake, she looked around in embarrassment at the supper preparations. Surely every woman in the whole train had been busy and about while she slept. What must they think of her? Willie would soon be back from caring for the animals and not even find a fire started!

  Missie hurried toward her wagons, swishing out her skirts and smoothing back her hair.

  It took a moment for her to realize that the fire that burned directly in front of their wagons was her fire, and that the delicious smell of stew and coffee came from her own cooking pots. She was trying to sort it all out when Willie poked his head out of the wagon. His face still showed concern when he looked at her but changed quickly to an expression of relief.

  “Yer lookin’ better. How ya feelin’?”

  Missie stammered some, “I’m fine... truly,
just fine.”

  Then she added in a lowered voice, “But shamed nigh to death.”

  “Shamed?” Willie’s voice sounded unnecessarily loud to Missie. “’Bout what?”

  “Well... me sitting there sleeping in the middle of the day, and you... you making the fire, and the coffee and... my goodness, what must they all think of me... that my husband has to do his work and mine, too?”

  “Iffen thet’s all thet’s troublin’ ya,” Willie responded, “I reckon we can learn to live with it. ’Sides, I didn’t make the fire. Henry did. He was mighty anxious fer his supper. Boy, can thet fella eat! We’re liable to have to butcher both of those cows jest to feed ’im, long before we reach where we’re goin’.”

  “Henry’s eaten?”

  “Sure has. I think he even left us a little bit. Seemed in a big hurry to be off. There jest happens to be a couple a’ young girls travelin’ with this train. Think maybe Henry went to get acquainted like.” Willie winked.

  “Aren’t you coming out?” Missie asked when Willie made no move to leave the wagon.

  “I’m lookin’ fer the bread. Can’t find a thing in all these crocks, cans, an’ boxes. Where’d ya put it, anyway? Henry wolfed down his food without it, but I’d sorta like a bit of bread to go with my supper.”

  Missie laughed. “Really!” she said, shaking her head, “Bet you almost took a bite of it. It’s right there, practically under your nose.” She clambered into the wagon. “Here, let me get it. Mama sent some of her special tarts for our first night out, too.”

  As Missie lifted the bread and tarts from the crock in which they had been stored, another tug pulled at her from somewhere deep inside. She could envision Marty’s flushed face as she bent over her oven, removing the special baking for the young couple she loved so dearly.

  Willie seemed to sense Missie’s mood; his arms went round her and he pulled her close. “She’ll be missin’ you, too, long ’bout now,” he said softly against her hair.

  Missie swallowed hard. “I reckon she will,” she whispered.

  “Missie?” Willie hesitated. “Are ya sure? It’s still not too late to turn back, ya know. Iffen yer in doubt...? Iffen ya feel—”

  “My goodness, no,” Missie said emphatically. “There’s not a doubt in my mind at all. I’m looking forward to seeing your land and building a home. You know that! Sure, I’ll miss Mama and Pa and the family—’especially at first. But I just have to grow up, that’s all. Everyone has to grow up sometime.” How could Willie think she was so selfish as to deny him his dream?

  “Yer sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “It won’t be an easy trip—you know thet.”

  “I know.”

  “An’ it won’t be easy even after we git there. There’s no house yet, no neighbors, no church. You’ll miss it all, Missie.”

  “I’ll have you.”

  Willie pulled her back into his arms. “I’m afraid I’m not much to make up fer all thet you’re losin’. But I love ya, Missie—I love ya so much.”

  “Then that’s all I need,” whispered Missie. “Love is the one thing I reckon I just couldn’t do without, so—”she reached up and kissed him on his chin—“as long as you love me, I should make out just fine.”

  Missie drew back gently from Willie’s arms. “We’d better be eating that supper you cooked. I’m powerful hungry.”

  Willie nodded. “But you might change yer mind once you’ve tasted my cookin’.” They both laughed.

  After they had finished their meal together and Missie had washed up the few dishes, Willie brought out their Bible. It was carefully wrapped in oiled paper with an inner wrap of soft doeskin.

  “Been thinkin’,” he said. “Our mornin’s are goin’ to be short and rushed. It might be easier fer us to have our readin’ time at night.”

  Missie nodded and settled down beside him. It was still light enough to see, but the light would not last for long. Willie found his place and began in an even voice.

  “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”1

  He closed the Bible slowly.

  “Yer pa underlined thet for us. When he handed me the Bible this morning, he read it to me and marked it with this red ribbon. He said fer us to claim thet verse fer our own and to read it every day, if need be, until we felt it real and meaningful in our hearts.”

  “It’s a good verse,” Missie said, her voice tremulous. If she closed her eyes, she was sure she would be able to see her pa sitting at the kitchen table with the family Bible open before him and all of the family gathered round. She could even hear his voice as he led them in the morning prayer time. Her pa—the spiritual leader of the home. No... not anymore. Willie was the head of her home now; he was her spiritual leader. Now she would look to him for strength and direction to get her through each day—whether happy or difficult. She was not Clark’s little girl anymore; she was a woman—a woman and a wife. Clark had handed her into the care and keeping of Willie. And though Missie was sure that her father’s love and prayers would always reach out to her, she also knew Clark was content in his knowledge that she had taken her rightful place in life... by Willie’s side.

  Missie reached for Willie’s hand and clung to it as they prayed together. Willie thanked God for being with them through the day and for the love of those left behind. He prayed for God to comfort their hearts at this difficult time as he and Missie learned to live without their families near. He asked for safety as they traveled and for special strength for Missie in the long days ahead, his voice tight again with concern. Missie determined that tonight was not the time to share her secret. There was no need to trouble Willie. She’d wait until she had gotten used to the bumping and the walking and had toughened to the pace of the trail. Besides, she told herself, there was still a chance she could be wrong.

  If she was right—and deep down inside, Missie admitted that indeed she must be—she was bound to gain new vigor and strength with each passing day. In fact, the fresh air and exercise would be good for her. She’d wait. She’d wait until Willie could see for himself that she was healthy and strong and then she’d tell her secret. Then he would be as excited over the coming event as she was.

  Oh, if only she could have told her ma and pa. She would have looked into their faces and exclaimed with joy, “I think you’re going to be Grandma and you Grandpa—now, what do you think of that?” They would have hugged and laughed and cried together in one grand tangle of happiness. It would have been so much fun to announce her good news. But that wasn’t to be... and it wasn’t the right time to announce it to Willie, either. She’d wait.

  THREE

  Another Day

  Missie stirred herself with difficulty, testing her back, legs, and arms to see just how much pain the movement brought to her. How she ached! Her mind scrambled around for the reason. As sleep left her, it all came back, a mixture of excitement and misgivings. Willie and she were on the trail. They were headed west, and she had been jostled until she could stand it no more and then had walked behind the wagons until her body protested with every step. And now, after sleeping on the hard, confining bed in their new living quarters, she ached even more.

  Willie must hurt, too, she thought. She reached for him, but her hand touched only his empty pillow. Willie had already quietly left the cramped canvas-covered wagon that was to be their home for many weeks.

  Missie quickly pulled herself from her bed, suppressing a groan as she did so. “I suppose I’ve gone and done it again,” she muttered. “Willie likely had to cook his own breakfast, too.”

  But after Missie quickly dressed and climbed stiffly down from the wagon, she was relieved to find the sun just casting its first rays of golden light over the eastern horizon. Very few people were stirring about the camp. Willie had started a fire and left it burning for her. Missie added a few more sticks a
nd watched as the flames accepted them with crackling eagerness.

  “Land sakes!” Missie exclaimed under her breath. “I wonder if I’ll ever get my tied-up muscles all unwound.” She began to pace back and forth, flinging and flexing her arms to limber them up. Me, a farm girl, and so pampered that one good day’s walking bothers me! Guess Mama didn’t work me hard enough. She shook her head ruefully.

  As Missie stepped briskly back and forth she came across another good reason for keeping on the move. In the coolness of the morning, the mosquitoes were out in droves, and they all seemed to be hungry. After a quick visit to the nearby woods, Missie decided to return to the wagon for a longsleeved sweater to protect her arms.

  She poured a generous amount of river water from the bucket into the washbasin sitting on the shelf outside the wagon and began her morning wash. The water was cold, and Missie was relieved to reach for a rough towel to rub the warmth back into her face and hands. But she did feel refreshed and ready to begin her day. She draped the towel over its peg and started the breakfast preparations. The coffee was bubbling and the bacon and eggs sending out their early-morning “all’s well” signals when their driver, Henry, made his appearance.

  Missie thought of Henry as no more than a boy but smiled to herself as she realized he was at least as old as her Willie. Still, she thought, he doesn’t have the same grown-up manner Willie has.

  “Mornin’, Henry.”

  “Mornin’, ma’am.”

  The “ma’am” brought another smile to Missie’s lips.

  “Hungry?”

  Henry grinned. “Sure am.”

  “Did you sleep well?”