Love's Enduring Promise (Love Comes Softly Series #2) Page 3

  "Ever notice his wagon? All painted up an' with extry metal trimmin's. Could have had a bigger place to live. Men of the neighborhood figured on being neighborly a few years back and helped him log so's he could build. 'Stead, he saw thet wagon, so he sold the logs an' bought it--an' he an' Wanda still live in thet one little room. The way Cam sees it, a house belongs to the woman, not the man. Often wished thet he'd take him a notion thet he had to have the best house, too; might find 'im a way to git one. Sure would be easier fer Wanda--an' now with a baby comin', they sure do need more room."

  Clark was looking off at the distant hills as he spoke. Marty had never known before what kind of a man Cameron Marshall was. She felt a helplessness concerning Wanda.

  "Often wondered what would make a man feel so unsure of hisself, like, thet he had to prove hisself by gittin' things. Somethin' deep down must be troublin' Cam to have made 'im like he is."

  Clark seemed to bring himself back from a long way off. "Sure do hope thet the young'un be a dandy, or it's gonna be awful hard on his pa."

  He smiled then.

  "Didn't mean me to put a damper on yer good news. I'm sure thet Cam will have reason to be proud--an' Wanda--I'm real happy fer Wanda. It'll wake her life up to have a baby in it."

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  Chapter 6

  Marty Calls on Mrs. Larson

  The winter's day held a deep chill. As Marty packed a box with bread, soup broth, vegetables, and molasses cookies, she was thankful that no wind was blowing. The day was cold as it was, and a wind would have made it most unbearable.

  Word had come that morning that Mrs. Larson was ill. It seemed that it was not a common cold or flu but something far more serious, and Marty felt that she must go and see her neighbor even though the cold held a grip on the land.

  Clark hated to see her go alone, but realizing that Missie was far too young to be left in charge of Clare and Little Arnie, there was nothing for him to do but remain at home with the children.

  Marty dressed as warmly as she could against the cold. Then carrying her box with her, she went out to where Clark waited with the team.

  "Don't 'llow yerself to be kept over-late," he cautioned; "an' should it start to blow, head home quick-like."

  Marty promised, tucked the blanket carefully around herself and started off.

  The road, in the flat whiteness of the land, was hard to follow in places, so Marty gave Dan and Charlie their head and urged them on.

  When the unkept Larson homestead came into view,

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  Marty noticed that very little smoke came from the chimney of the cabin.

  No one met her in the yard to assist her with the team, so she tethered Dan and Charlie to a nearby post and hurried, with her box, to the house.

  There was a stirring at an unwashed and tattered- curtained window as she approached. Her knock was answered by Clae who quietly motioned her in.

  Nandry was washing dirty dishes in a pan of equally dirty water. The location of a stubby broom showed Marty that Clae had been using it in an effort to sweep the floor.

  Well, at least they try, Marty thought with thankfulness. After greeting the girls, she turned to the almost cold stove. The room was cold too, and sent shivers through her in spite of the fact that she had not yet removed her coat.

  She opened the lid of the stove to observe one lone piece of wet wood smoldering in the firebox, producing very little more than a thin wispy stream of smoke.

  "Where be yer wood?" she asked.

  Clae answered, "Is none. Pa didn't get it cut and we can't split it."

  "Do ya have an axe?"

  "Yeah--sort of."

  Marty discovered what the "sort of" meant when she went to the scattered wood that made up their meager winter supply. Never had she seen such a dull and chipped piece of equipment. With a great deal of effort she was able to produce enough wood to get a fire going to take the chill off the house.

  After she had built up the fire and placed a kettle on to boil, she went in to see Mrs. Larson.

  The woman lay huddled under some blankets on a narrow bed in the second room of the small cabin. Marty felt thankful that at least clothing was not strewn all over the room. Then she realized with despair that probably everything they owned was on their backs, in an effort to protect themselves from the cold. Mrs. Larson lay white and quiet beneath the scant covers.

  "Why didn't I think to bring a heavy quilt?" Marty reprimanded

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  herself; and even as the thought went through her mind, she saw the shiver that passed through Mrs. Larson. Marty stood close to the bed, a warm hand reaching out to gently smooth the hair back from the thin, white face.

  "How ya be?"

  Mrs. Larson attempted an answer, but it was muted and low.

  "I'll git ya some warm broth right away," Marty said, and hurried back to the kitchen to get the broth on to heat. She then went out to the sleigh and returned with the blanket that she had tucked around herself to drive over in the cold. She warmed the blanket at the stove before she took it in to Mrs. Larson and wrapped it close about the shivering body.

  The broth was soon warm, and Marty asked Clae for a dish and a spoon. She took the bread from the box and handed it to the girl.

  "Why don't you an' Nandry have ya some broth while it's hot, an' some bread to go with it?" she said.

  The hungry looks in the girls' eyes told her that they would do so eagerly.

  Marty carried the hot broth to Mrs. Larson. She realized that the woman was already too weak to feed herself and hoped that she would not object to being spoon-fed. There was no need to worry. Mrs. Larson accepted the food hungrily with thankfulness showing in her eyes.

  "The girls--" she whispered.

  "They're eatin'," Marty answered.

  Mrs. Larson looked relieved.

  Marty talked as she spooned.

  "I'm so sorry thet ya be down. I didn't hear of it 'til today. Jedd should have called and let us know an' we could have been over to help sooner.

  "Nice thet ya got those two fine girls to be a helpin'. When I came Nandry was washing up the dishes an' Clae a sweepin' the floor. Must be a great comfort to ya--them girls."

  Mrs. Larson's eyes looked more alive. She nodded slightly. Marty knew how she loved her girls.

  "Must be a real tryin' time fer ya. A woman jest hates to

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  git down--hates to not be a carin' fer her family. Makes one feel awful useless like, but God, He knows all 'bout how ya feel--why yer sick. There's always a reason fer His 'llowin', though we can't always see it right off like. I'm sure thet there be a good reason fer this, too. Someday, maybe we'll know why."

  The broth was almost gone, but Mrs. Larson feebly waved the remainder aside. Marty didn't know if she was full or just tired. Then Mrs. Larson spoke. Slowly at first but gradually her words poured one over the other, tumbling out in quick succession in a need to be said. She breathed heavily and the effort of speaking cost her dearly, but speak she must.

  "My girls," she said, "my girls never had nothin', nothin'--thet's not 0what I want fer my girls. Their pa, he be a good man, but he don't understand 'bout girls. I been prayin'-- prayin' thet somehow God would give 'em a chance. Jest a chance, thet's all I ask fer. Me--I don't matter now. I lived my life. Yet I ain't sayin' I'm wantin' to die--I'm scared to die. I ain't been a good woman, Marty. I got no business askin' God fer nothin', but I ain't askin' it fer me--only my girls. Do ya think thet God hears my prayers, Marty? I wouldn't 'ave even dared to pray; but my girls, they need--" she broke off with a sob.

  Marty's hand caressed the thin hand grasping the blanket. " 'Course He hears," she said with deep conviction.

  Mrs. Larson looked as though a great weight was being lifted from her.

  "Could He show love to young'uns of a sinful woman?" Her eyes pleaded that the answer be reassuring.

  "Yes," Marty said slowly. "He loves the girls, an' He will help 'em. I'm sure He will. But, Mrs. Larson,
He loves you, too, an' He wants to help you. He loves ya, He truly does. I know thet ya be a sinner, but we all be no different. The Book says thet we all be a-sinnin' an' a-hangin' onto our sin like it be somethin' worthwhile keepin', but it's not. We gotta let go of it, and God will take it from us an' put it there in thet big pile of sin thet Jesus took on hisself thet day He died. It isn't our goodness thet makes us fittin' to share heaven with Him.

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  It's our faith. We jest--well, we jest say 'thank ya, Lord, fer dyin', an' clean me up on the inside so's I'll be fittin' fer yer heaven'--an' He will. He takes this earth-soiled soul of ourn an' He cleans and polishes it fer heaven. Thet's what He does, an' all--jest in answer to our prayer of askin'. Do ya want to pray, Mrs. Larson?"

  She looked surprised. "I've never prayed. Not fer myself-- jest fer my girls. I wouldn't know what to say to Him."

  "Ya said it to me.,, spoke gently. "Jest tell Him thet yer done hangin' onto yer sins--thet ya don't want to carry 'em enymore, an' would He please git rid of 'em fer ya. Then thank Him too--fer His love an' His cleanin'."

  Mrs. Larson looked hesitant but then began her short prayer. The faltering words gradually gathered strength and assurance. When Marty opened her tear-washed eyes, she was met by a weak, yet confident, smile and equally teary eyes.

  "He did!" Mrs. Larson exclaimed. "He did!"

  Marty squeezed Mrs. Larson's hand and wiped the tears from her own cheeks.

  " 'Course He did," she whispered. "An' He'll answer yer

  other prayer, too. I don't know how He'll manage it, but I'm sure thet He will."

  She stood up. The sun was quickly moving to the west and she knew that she must be on her way home.

  "Mrs. Larson, I gotta go soon. I promised Clark I'd not be late, but there be somethin' thet I want ya to know. Iffen enythin' happens to ya--an' I'm hopin' thet ya'll soon be on yer feet again--but iffen enythin' does happen, I'll do my best to see thet yer girls git thet chance."

  Mrs. Larson was silent. She seemed to be holding her breath and then Marty realized that she was too deeply moved to speak--save to her newly found God.

  Again her eyes filled with tears.

  "Thank ya, oh, thank ya!" she said over and over.

  Marty touched her hand lightly and turned to go. She must hurry home if she was to allow enough time for Clark to get back with a load of firewood and a warm quilt.

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  Chapter 7

  Exciting News

  Marty finished patching a pair of Clare's overalls and laid them aside. It was too early yet to begin supper. She let her mind slide over some of the events of the past few months.

  She had gone several times to visit Mrs. Larson. Ma Graham and other neighbor ladies went often, as well, to help nurse the woman and care for the needs of the family. Though Mrs. Larson rested contentedly in her newly found peace, the woman continued to weaken, and deep down, they all knew that they were fighting a losing battle.

  Marty's thoughts were pulled away from Mrs. Larson's illness to more cheerful things.

  Spring would soon be upon them, and with its coming two new babies would be welcomed to their neighborhood--in April. Marty was so happy for the new mothers-to-be and prayed that all would go well.

  The first to arrive would be Wanda's. She, who had already lost three children and wanted a child so badly, deserved so much to have this happiness. Now with a doctor available, Wanda had been given the confidence to try again.

  "Please, God, this time let it be all right," Marty prayed many times a day.

  The second baby to arrive would be Sally Anne's. This first grandchild for Ben and Ma would be very special.

  Sally Anne, too, had hoped to be a mother earlier but had

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  not carried her first baby to full term. Now the days of her delivery were very near at hand and things seemed to be going well this time. Marty knew that Sally Anne wasn't the only one counting the days.

  As Marty thought of the promise of new young lives that the month ahead would bring, her eyes lingered on her own small ones before her.

  Missie was dressing a kitten in doll clothes. After much arguing and persuading on Missie's part, Marty had finally agreed to allowing one small barn cat in the house. It was named Miss Puss by Missie and treated like a baby. Never had a kitten had more love and fondling than Miss Puss. Marty wondered silently if Miss Puss would have welcomed a few moments of peace.

  Clare was piling blocks in an effort to construct a barn. The blocks would periodically fall on the unfortunate pieces of broom straw that were his farm animals, and then he would need to start over again.

  Arnie, who could sit alone, watched Clare intently, being particularly fascinated by the noise created when the blocks came tumbling down. This would bring gurgles of delight from Arnie as he would rock back and forth with excitement.

  Clare dutifully explained to the young Arnie which straws were the horses, which the cows, the calves, and the hogs. Arnie listened wide-eyed and squealed in response.

  At the sound of Ole Bob the room came alive. Clark had returned from town. Marty hadn't expected him for another hour. She got up quickly and checked the clock to see if she had misread the time. No, it was early.

  Clare jumped up from his spot on the rug, warmth filling his face and voice.

  "Pa's home!" he shouted, letting his building blocks fall where they might, unmindful of the damage done to the straw horses and cows.

  Marty started to call him back to pick up the toys, then changed her mind. He could pick them up when he came in for supper. It was important to him now to greet his pa.

  Missie, too, holding carefully the blanketed kitten, headed for the door to see Clark.

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  Only Arnie remained, deserted on the rug, unable as yet to get in on the family's full activity.

  "Boy, I'll bet Arnie's sad!" Clare yelled as he ran through the kitchen.

  "Whatcha meanin'?" Marty had to call after him to be heard.

  "He can't run," the fleeing boy flung back over his shoulder and was gone, the door slamming behind him.

  Marty smiled and went for Arnie.

  "Are ya sad?" she asked the baby as she lifted him up.

  Arnie didn't look sad--a bit puzzled at all of the sudden bustling about, but otherwise content. A happy smile spread over his face as he was lifted. Marty kissed his cheek and walked to the kitchen window.

  She had expected to see Clare and Missie hitching a ride with Clark to the barn, so was surprised when all three were coming up the housepath together. The youngsters were skipping along beside their father, chattering noisily in an effort to out-talk one another.

  Clark, too, seemed excited. Marty walked toward the door to meet him.

  "Good news!" he fairly shouted, taking hold of her waist and whirling both her and the baby around the kitchen. Marty held on tightly to Arnie, who was enjoying the whole thing immensely.

  "Sakes alive, Clark!" she said when she had caught her breath, "What's happened?"

  Clark laughed and pulled her close. Young Arnie grabbed a handful of his father's shirt.

  "Got great news," Clark said. "We got us a teacher." "A teacher!"

  "Yep--come fall thet there little school goin' to be bustlin' with book-learnin' and bell-ringin'. Hear thet, Missie?" He stopped to lift the little girl up and swing her around.

  "We got us a teacher. Come fall ya can start ya off to school, jest like a grand lady."

  "Grand ladies don't go off to school," Marty laughed. Then nearly ready to explode she caught hold of her husband's arm.

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  "Oh, Clark, do stop all the silliness and tell us all 'bout it. Oh, it's such wonderful news. Jest think, Missie, a teacher fer yer school. Ain't thet jest grand? Who is it, Clark, an' where does she come from?"

  "He--it's a he. Mr. Wilbur Whittle is his name, an' he comes from some fancy city back East--can't recall jest now which one--but he's jest full of learnin'. Been teachin' fer eight years a
lready, but he wanted to see the West."

  Missie came to life then, the meaning of all of the excitement finally getting through to her.

  "Goodie! goodie!" she shouted, clapping her hands. "I git to go to school. I'll read an' draw pictures an' everythin'." "Me, too," said Clare.

  "Not you, Clare," Missie insisted, big sister fashion. "Yer too little."

  "Am not," Clare countered. "I'm 'most as big as you." Marty wasn't sure where the argument would have ended had not Clark intervened.

  "Hey," he said, sweeping up Clare, "ya'll sure 'nough go to school all right, but not yet. I need ya to help with the milkin' an' chorin' yet awhile. In a couple of years maybe I'll be able to spare ya when Arnie gits a little bigger an' can help his pa."

  Clare was pacified. Let Missie go to school. He'd sacrifice. He was needed at home.

  The commotion that the news stirred up was hard to control but finally it subsided. Marty placed Arnie in his chair with a piece of bread crust to chew on. Clare went with Clark to care for the horses and do the chores. Missie unbundled her kitten, explaining to it gravely that she would no longer be able to play as much. She was grown up now and would be going off to school. Then she proceeded to lay out her best frock, clean stockings, and her Sunday boots--about five and a half months prematurely.

  Marty went about the supper preparations with a song in her heart. This fall they would have their new school. Missie would get the coveted education. Would Nandry and Clae be as fortunate? Marty promised herself again that she would do all in her power to see that it would happen.

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  Chapter 8

  Wanda's New Baby

  The warm April sun shone down on the earth, ridding the land of winter snow and bringing forth crocuses and dandelions. Marty revelled in the springtime sun, thinking ahead of days spent in planting her garden and tending her summer flowers.