Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) Read online

  "He can't be too worried," Missie said, "or he wouldn't have taken her on."

  "From what I understand, the fact of the comin' baby wasn't told to Blake until all of the arrangements were made--an' then

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  he jest hated to turn them down. They'd already sold their farm back east."

  "Then Mr. Blake can't really be faulted, him not knowin'." "Her man knew."

  Missie turned away and busied herself in packing the coffeepot and frying pan. "I'm sure she'll be fine. I'll look her up today. What's her name, by the way?"

  "Her man's name is Clay. I think it be John Clay, but I'm not right sure 'bout thet."

  "Have you seen her?"

  "Jest offhand like. Their wagon is one of the first in line. I saw them last night when I was takin' the horses down for water. He was helpin' her down from the wagon. I don't think thet she was out much yesterday."

  "She'll get the feel of it," Missie said, but she really wasn't as sure as she sounded. "Maybe she'll walk some today an' I'll get a chance to meet her."

  One of the trail guides rode toward them on a rangy big roan with wild-looking eyes. He called out to each driver as he toured the circle, "Let's git those wagons hitched. Time to hit the trail."

  Missie studied the big-boned horse, thinking that he looked like he could handle anything; yet she felt a thankfulness that she would never be called upon to ride him.

  The men moved almost as one toward the tethered horses. The women hurried with their tasks of repacking each item into the wagons, putting out the fires and gathering their families together. Missie's final tasks were already done so she stood beside her wagon and observed the bustling scene before her.

  Again she heard the crying baby. She loved babies; still, she wasn't sure how wise or easy it would be to be heading West with one. She would see if she'd be able to give the young mother a hand.

  Her thoughts then turned to the mother-to-be. Missie hoped that today she would be able to meet her. She hoped with all of her heart that all would go well for the young woman; but Willie's expressed concern wrapped itself about her like a restraining garment. J ust have me a chat with Mrs. Kosensky, she thought; she's had experience birthing babies, and she'll know what to do. Missie's concern evaporated like the morning mist.

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  Chapter 4

  Traveling Neighbors

  Missie made a special effort that day to get acquainted with her traveling companions. Mrs. Collins was not hard to find. Missie simply followed the sound of the crying baby. She located them a few wagons behind her own during the noon-hour break. Mrs. Collins was busy trying to prepare a midday meal for her hungry family. A small boy tugged at her skirt and the baby cried as the young mother jostled her on her hip.

  Missie smiled and introduced herself.

  "We've already finished eatin'," she said, "an' I was wonderin' iffen I could help with the baby whilst you got yer meal."

  "Oh, would ya?" Mrs. Collins said with great relief in her voice. "I'd most appreciate it. Meggie's cryin' most drives me to distraction." She pushed the small boy from her. "Joey, please be patient. Mama will git yer dinner right away--jest you sit down an' wait."

  The small boy plopped down on his bottom and began to cry, his voice loud and demanding,

  Missie reached for the baby, whose crying seemed to gain

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  momentum at the sound of her brother, and walked back toward her own wagon. The poor mother would somehow have to cope with the howling Joey.

  Missie walked back and forth, gently bouncing the baby and singing softly to her. The crying gradually subsided until only an occasional sob shook her tiny frame. Missie continued to rock and pace. When finally she checked the baby in her arms, she was sound asleep.

  Missie returned to the mother who was now busy clearing away the dishes and pots, having fed her husband and son. I hope that she took time to properly feed herself, Missie thought.

  Joey was sitting on a blanket, no longer crying in anger, although the smudge of tears and trail dust still smeared his cheeks. He looked very sleepy and Missie wondered how long it would be until he would be crying again.

  "Thank ya--jest thank ya so much," Mrs. Collins said as she looked up from her task. "Ya can jest lay her down on the bed in the wagon."

  Missie did so, having to move several items in order to find room for the tiny baby on the bed. She noticed that the Collins' living area was even smaller than the cramped quarters that she and Willie shared--and there were four Collinses.

  Missie ducked out through the flap in the canvas.

  "Looks like Joey should go to bed, too," she commented bravely.

  "He's so tired," sighed the mother. Missie thought that she looked in need of a bed also.

  "I'll tuck him in," offered Missie, wondering if Joey would allow himself to be tucked-in by a stranger.

  To her surprise, he did not protest as she took his hand and helped him up. She started to lift him into the wagon, but stopped long enough to dip a corner of her apron in water and wash the tear-streaked face. His face was warm and flushed; Joey welcomed the temporary coolness of the wet apron.

  Missie laid Joey on the bed, trying to keep him far enough away from Meggie that he wouldn't waken her. Even before Missie left the wagon, Joey's long eyelashes were fluttering in an attempt to fight off sleep. Sleep would soon win and the boy would

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  get the needed rest that would improve his disposition. Perhaps when he awakened he would be easier for his young mother to cope with.

  Missie left the wagon just as Mrs. Collins was stowing the last of her utensils. The wagons were about ready to move out.

  "Why don't you crawl in an' catch a bit of rest with the children," Missie advised.

  Mrs. Collins sighed deeply. "I think I will," she said, then turned to Missie. "I jest don't know how to thank ya." She blinked away tears. "Truth is, I was 'bout ready to give up."

  "It'll get better," Missie promised, hoping sincerely that she was speaking the truth.

  "Oh, I hope so--I truly hope so."

  "We'll help."

  "Thank ya." The young mother spoke with bowed head and moist eyes. "Yer very kind."

  The call for "move-out" was yelled and Missie stepped aside.

  "Best you get yourself settled," she said. "I'll see you later."

  Mrs. Collins nodded, her weak smile trying valiantly to express her gratitude. She lifted herself wearily into her wagon. It was hot inside in the full heat of the day, but it was the most comfort that she would be able to find. She laid herself down between her sleeping children and let her tired body relax and rock with the swaying of the wagon.

  Missie walked and rode intermittently. When she walked she chatted with the other women or children who happened to be near. She met Mrs. Standard, a gentle but firm-looking woman with a sturdy frame and graying hair; she had a family of eight--five girls and three boys. It was the second marriage for Mrs. Standard, a bride of seven months--and a mother for only the same period of time. She had had no children of her own from before, so the adjustment of caring for a brood of eight was a big one. She had always wanted a family, but to receive eight all at once--of various sizes, ages and temperaments--was an awesome task. Missie admired the woman for undertaking it with such gusto. Mrs. Standard had always been a "town girl" as well, so her marriage to the widower carried a double challenge. He

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  was convinced that the rainbow's end must rest somewhere in the West, so Mrs. Standard had packed up his eight children, the few things of her own that she could find room for, and joined him in the long trek.

  Mrs. Standard's usual walking companion was Mrs. Schmidt, a small, wiry woman who walked with a slight limp. She had three children--two nearly-grown sons and a girl of eight.

  Neither of the two ladies talked much as they walked. Missie assumed that just giving orders to her large family was enough talking for Mrs. Standard, and Mrs. Schmidt didn't seem to have many t
houghts that needed to be expressed. She was always busy doing, not talking. She gathered more firewood than she could ever manage to burn during the evening camping hours.

  Missie learned the names of some of the other ladies as well. There was Mrs. Larkin, dark and unhappy looking, and Mrs. Page, who talked even faster than she walked--and she walked briskly. The women in the company had already been informed about every item that Mrs. Page possessed, as well as the cost to purchase it, and how it had been obtained. Missie would endure only short sessions near the woman, then drift further away, thankful for the excuse of picking up firewood.

  Mrs. Thorne, a tall, sandy-haired woman, walked stiff and upright, striding ahead in the manner of a man. Her three children walked just like their mother, their arms swinging freely at their sides, their steps long and quick. Missie somehow felt that Mrs. Thorne would have no difficulty taking on the West.

  A young woman who had waved to Missie on her first day on the trail she now discovered to be Kathy Weiss, who was traveling west with her widowed father. She had a sunny smile and an easygoing disposition. She seemed a dreamer, and at times Missie wondered if she realized where this journey was taking her, or if she just felt herself to be out for an afternoon stroll.

  Already Kathy had made friends with the young-looking Mrs. Crane. She was a dainty, porcelain-doll type, who appeared to be in a state of shock over what was taking place. She was the train's display piece, refusing to dress herself in the common and rough,

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  yet practical, cotton--the sensible thing to be wearing for this mode of travel and living. She wore, instead, fashionable dresses and bonnets and impractical, stylish shoes. Her grooming every morning took far more time than her breakfast preparations. Missie smiled at such vanity, but her heart went out to the girl.

  Missie sought out Mrs. Kosensky, the midwife; she liked her immediately. The woman was a stoutish, motherly type, who found walking difficult. Her kind face and ready smile made Missie wish that she could somehow walk some of the miles for the older woman.

  Missie saw other small groups of women and children here and there, changing and interchanging as the day wore on. She promised herself that she would make an effort to get to know each one of them as quickly as possible, so that she might take full advantage of friendships on the trail. She was impressed with the differences that existed among them. It seemed that since they had such a common purpose, they should somehow be more similar in background and personality.

  All day long Missie watched for the expectant mother that Willie had spoken of. Missie was eager to meet the young Mrs. Clay, feeling a kinship with her, though her own secret would have to be guarded for a time. Though Missie sought out the other woman each time that she walked for a spell, she still had not spotted her when the teams were again called to an early halt. As she had the day before, Missie almost stumbled into camp, so weary was she from the day's long trek. She deposited her few sticks of firewood beside the wagon and went to speak with Willie.

  As Willie's hands moved to unharness the team, Missie's eyes caught sight of swelling blisters where the reins had irritated the skin on his fingers. She mentioned them, but Willie shrugged it off.

  "They'll soon toughen up," he said without concern. "Only takes a few days. How're you?"

  "Tired--and sore. But I think that I'm farin' better than some of them. I noticed that Mrs. Crane was really limpin' when she climbed into her wagon back a piece."

  "Is she the young peacock in the fancy feathers?"

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  Missie smiled. "Don't be too hard on her, Willie. She loves her nice things."

  "Well, she'd be a lot wiser to pack 'em away fer awhile an' wear somethin' sensible."

  "Maybe so, but she'll have to make up her own mind 'bout that."

  "You'd best git some rest," Willie said, changing the subject as he prepared to move off with the horses. "Yer lookin' all done- in again."

  Missie did rest, though this time she determined not to fall asleep. Instead, she settled herself against the wagon wheel, there being no big trees nearby, and worked on some knitting. She noticed that other women and children had settled themselves in the shade of the wagons and were finding some resting time as well. In fact, the only one bustling about was Mrs. Schmidt who was busily throwing more wood onto her already abundant pile.

  The sounds of soft snoring drifted to Missie from the direction of the next wagon. She looked across to see Mrs. Thorne stretched out full length on the grass beside her wagon, one arm tucked beneath her head.

  Mrs. Standard was busy across the way tending the stubbed toe of one of her step-children. He cried as she washed the injured foot; but he quieted after he realized what a fine conversation piece that neat white bandage made. He hobbled off to find someone who would rightfully appreciate his dreadful injury.

  Another Standard youngster rolled on the ground with the family dog. Mrs. Standard moved away from the commotion and lowered herself to the ground with a heavy sigh. She removed her stout walking shoes and sat rubbing her feet. Missie could imagine how they ached, her own feet suffering in empathy.

  It seemed to Missie that the time went too quickly. The sun moved further west and lost its fierceness. Gradually things in the camp began to stir. Mrs. Schmidt was the first to have a fire going, but then, she was going to need an early start if she was to burn up all that wood. Other fires were soon started and the smoke began to waft on the cooler air. Missie stirred herself and laid aside her knitting.

  By the time Willie made his appearance the fire was burning

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  and the stew pot simmering. There was no need for Missie to make biscuits. Her mother's bread supply would last for a number of days yet, even though its freshness would be lost. Tonight it was still soft and tasty. Missie savored each bite.

  Henry ate with a hearty appetite and Missie noticed that Willie wasn't far behind him in the amount of supper that he devoured.

  "I been thinkin'," said Missie, "we should have brought along one cow that was milkin', 'stead of two that are months away from calvin'."

  "Ya hankerin' fer some milk?"

  "Coffee and tea suit me fine, but just look at all of the younguns round about. They sure could do with some milk." Secretly, Missie realized that milk wouldn't be a bad idea for herself as well, but she said nothing about that fact.

  Willie glanced over his many neighbors. There were a number of children, some of them very young.

  "Yer right," he responded. "Seems to be younguns aplenty. Seen any more of Mrs. Collins since noon?"

  "No. She must ride in the wagon most of the time. Who could walk with two babies to carry? I was thinkin' that maybe I'd slip over after we eat and see iffen she has some washin' that has to be done."

  Willie frowned slightly. "Don't mind ya being' neighborly, but are ya sure thet ya aren't pushin' a bit hard? Ya still look a little pale an' weary to me."

  "Speakin' of being' neighborly," Henry suddenly chimed as he laid his empty plate aside, "think I'll do a little visitin' myself." He rose to his feet with sudden enthusiasm, obviously suppressing a grin as he sauntered off.

  "Oh, I'm fine," Missie quickly assured Willie. "A couple more days on the trail, an' I don't expect it'll bother me much atall."

  Willie nodded a response of "I hope so," but the worried look did not leave his eyes.

  "I still didn't see that Mrs. Clay," Missie went on. "I watched for her all day."

  "I think she stayed pretty close to the wagon. I saw John

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  that is his name--when I watered the horses. He says the sun has been a bit hard fer her to take."

  "Do you s'pose after we finish here we could walk over and see how they be?"

  "Sure. Don't guess thet would be intrudin'." Willie reached for the Bible that he had placed on a stool nearby and again

  turned to the passage in Isaiah that Clark had marked.

  "Fear thou not, for I am with thee," he read--then paused. "What d
oes thet mean to you, Missie?"

  Missie looked serious as she thought about the words; then her eyes began to glow.

  "I guess--" she said slowly, deliberately, "I guess that it means that God is right here with us by our campfire. Oh, Willie! We need Him so much. Not just for the journey--the physical-- but for the inner self, an' strength an'-- I would be so lost without the Lord. It's hard enough leavin' Pa and Mama and the family--but, Willie, iffen I had to leave God behind too--I just couldn't go. I just couldn't. I'm so glad that He's comin' with us. So glad."

  Willie's arm went around Missie's shoulder and drew her close. He worked on swallowing.

  "Ya said what I'm a feelin', too," he spoke quietly. And when he was able to again control his voice, he led in a grateful prayer.

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  Chapter 5

  Rebecca Clay

  Missie cleared away the meal while Willie carried water from the little stream to refill their water barrel. The couple then set out to go and make the acquaintance of the Clays. It was a leisurely walk and many times they paused to talk with fellow travelers. Missie introduced Willie to the women and children that she had met; he in turn presented her to the men that he already knew.

  When they passed the Collins' wagon, Missie stopped to ask if she could help with any washing. Mrs. Collins assured her that they were quite all right for at least another day. Missie was relieved, though she hoped that she didn't let it show. She would gladly have helped the young woman if the need had been there, but her own body was still sore and weary from her two days on the trail. Maybe by the morrow she would begin to feel more like herself.

  Eventually they came to the Clay wagon. Willie greeted John and proudly introduced Missie. John, in turn, called for Rebecca who was busy inside the wagon. When she thought about it later, Missie wasn't sure how she had expected the young woman to