Love's Long Journey Page 4

  It seemed to her that the precious rest time moved as quickly as the sun dropped toward the horizon. 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, Missie noted with a little smile as she stirred herself and laid aside her knitting. Smoke began to waft upward on the cooler evening air as supper plans began.

  By the time Willie arrived, the fire was burning 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 it would soon lose its freshness. Tonight, though, 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’ve been thinking,” said Missie, “we should have brought along one cow that was milking, instead of two that are months away from calving.”

  “Ya hankerin’ fer some milk?” Willie wondered.

  “Coffee and tea suit me fine, but just look at all of the youngsters around. They sure could do with some milk.”

  Secretly, Missie realized that milk wouldn’t be a bad idea for herself, as well, but she mentioned nothing about that fact.

  Willie glanced around the campsite. “Yer right,” he responded. “Seems to be young’uns 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 thinking maybe I’d slip over after we eat and see if she has some washing that has to be done.”

  Willie frowned slightly. “Don’t mind ya bein’ neighborly, Missie, but are ya sure ya aren’t pushin’ a bit hard? Ya still look a bit peaked an’ weary to me.”

  “Speakin’ of bein’ 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, and I don’t expect it’ll bother me much at all.”

  Willie nodded a response of “I hope so,” but the concern did not leave his eyes.

  “I still didn’t see Mrs. Clay,” Missie said. “I watched for her all day.”

  “I think she stayed pretty close to the wagon. I saw John—that is his name—when I watered the horses. He says the sun has been a bit hard fer her to take.”

  “Do you suppose after we finish here we could walk over and see how they’re doing?”

  “Sure. Don’t guess thet would be intrudin’.” Willie reached for the Bible he had placed 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 for a moment, staring at the page in front of him. “What does thet mean to you, Missie?”

  Missie gazed off into the distance at the sun’s warm glow still lingering in the west. She thought about the words, so familiar in one way but taking on new meaning as she and Willie were now on their own, heading away from home and family.

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

  Willie’s arm went around Missie’s shoulder and drew her close.

  “Ya said what I’m feelin’, too,” he spoke quietly, his voice full of emotion. And when he was able to speak with control again, he led in a grateful prayer, including a petition for God’s care and protection on Mrs. Clay and her coming baby.

  FIVE

  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 arm in arm to 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, and he in turn presented her to the men he already knew.

  When they passed the Collins’ wagon, Missie stopped to ask if she could help with any laundry. Mrs. Collins assured her they were quite all right for at least another day. Missie was secretly relieved and hoped it didn’t 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.

  When eventually they came to the Clay wagon, Willie greeted John and proudly introduced Missie. John, in turn, called for Rebecca, who was inside the wagon. When she thought about it later, Missie wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she was unprepared for her first glimpse of Rebecca as she pushed back the flap of the canvas and slowly stepped down, reaching for her husband’s hand to assist her descent. Her face looked tired and so very young, but an easy smile brightened her countenance as she saw Missie. The long auburn-brown hair was swept back from a pale face and held fast with a dark green ribbon. Her eyes held glints of the same green. Rebecca was attractive, but her appeal was definitely more than that. Missie immediately found herself wanting to know her and become her friend.

  As soon as Rebecca’s feet were securely on the ground, she held out her hand to Missie.

  “I’m Rebecca Clay.” She spoke softly, controlled. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

  “And I’m Melissa LaHaye,” Missie responded. She wasn’t sure why she had said her given name, but somehow she felt Rebecca should know who she really was. “Folks all just call me Missie,” she quickly added.

  “And they call me Becky.”

  “That suits you,” Missie said with a warm smile. She turned to Willie. “My husband, Willie—he’s met your John.”

  “Yes, John told me. I’ve been anxious to meet you both, but I’ve been a bit of a baby for the past two days. I hope I’ll soon be able to walk some with the rest of you. I’m sure your company would be much more enjoyable than my own.” She extended her hand. “Please, won’t you sit down. We have no chairs to offer, but those smooth rocks John rolled over aren’t bad.”

  Missie joined in with Becky’s chuckle as the four seated themselves on the rocks and settled in to talk. John replenished the fire. “Hope I can keep away some of those pesky mosquitoes,” he said over his shoulder as he went for more kindling.

  “An’ jest where are you folks headin’?” Willie asked the first question on all lips of those traveling west. Missie found herself hoping the answer would bring good news of future neighbors.

  “We travel with this train to Tettsford Junction, then rest for a few days before joining a group going northwest,” John answered. “My brother went out last year and sent word home that you never did see such good wheat land. He can hardly wait for us to get there so he can show it off. Says you don’t even have to clear the land—just put the plow to it.”

  Missie found that hard to believe, but she had heard others tell the same story. She couldn’t help but feel disappointment as she realized that the Clays would not be their neighbors after all.

  “And you?” John Clay asked.

  “We catch the supply train headin’ south when we git to Tettsford. I’ve got me some ranch land in the southern hills.”

  “Ya like thet country?”

  “It’s pretty as a dream.” Willie’s eyes lit up as he got on his favorite subject for an audience who hadn’t heard it all many times over. “All hills an’ sky an’ grassy draws. Not much fer trees in the area. The little valley where I’m plannin’ to build has a few trees, but nothin’ like we have where we come from.”

  “Understand there’s no trees at all where we’re headi
ng,” John noted.

  “I can’t imagine country without trees,” Becky said slowly. Becky’s voice sounded so wistful, Missie knew immediately that this deficiency would be a trial for the young woman.

  Missie loved forests also and felt a sympathetic stirring inside, but she pushed it aside with a quick, “We’ll get used to it.”

  Becky smiled. “I guess we will. Anyway, I suppose I’ll be too busy to notice much.”

  The men had moved away to inspect John’s harness. One section of the shoulder strap seemed to be rubbing a sore on his big black’s right shoulder, John had explained, and he was anxious to find some way to correct the problem. As the men talked it over, Missie and Becky were left on their own.

  “Did you leave a family behind?” Missie asked, thinking of her own parents.

  “Only my father,” answered Becky. “My mother died when I was fifteen.”

  “You don’t look much more than fifteen now,” Missie smiled.

  Becky laughed. “Everyone thinks I’m still a youngster. Guess I just look like one. I wager I’m every day as old as you—I’ll be nineteen next October.”

  Missie was surprised. “Why you are almost as old as me. When is your baby due?”

  “In about two months. We’re hoping all goes well so we’ll be in Tettsford Junction by then. They have a doctor there, you know.”

  “They do?” said Missie. “I didn’t know the town was that big.”

  “Oh, it’s quite an important place, really. Almost all the wagon trains pass through it and then branch off in different directions.”

  “I sure find myself wishing that you were coming down our way,” Missie said with sincerity.

  Becky looked at her frankly. “I feel the same way. It wouldn’t be half so scary if I knew I’d have you for a neighbor, even if you were nearly a day’s ride away.”

  Both young women were silent for a few minutes. Missie toyed with the hem of her shawl while Becky poked without purpose at the fire.

  “Missie,” Becky spoke softly, “are you ever scared?”

  Missie did not raise her eyes.

  “About moving west?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think I was.” Missie hesitated. “Willie was so excited, and I honestly thought I wanted to go, too. And I do, really I do. But I didn’t know... that I’d... well, that I’d have such a hard time of it, that it’d hurt so much to leave Mama and Pa. I didn’t think that I’d feel so... so empty.” She stumbled over the words and finally raised her head and said deliberately, “Well, yes. Now I’m beginning to feel scared.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Missie. I’m glad I’m not the only one, because I feel like such a child about it all. I’ve never told anyone, not even John. I want so much for him to have his dream, but... sometimes... sometimes I fear I won’t be able to make it come true for him, that my homesickness will keep him from being really happy.”

  Missie felt her eyes widen in surprise. “You feel homesick?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Even without leaving a mother behind?”

  “Maybe even more so. My pa loved my mama so much it was awfully hard on him when he lost her. I was all he had, and when John came along, I... well, I fell so in love I couldn’t think of anyone else.” She stopped to take a deep breath. “So now I’ve... I’ve left Pa all alone,” she finished in a rush.

  Becky’s eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away and continued, “If only he still had Mama, I wouldn’t have this worry about him. I miss him... so very much. He’s such a good man, Missie, so strong—big, muscular, tough. But inside, deep inside, Pa is so tender, so...” She took another breath. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  Now it was Missie’s eyes that filled with tears. She nodded. “Yes, indeed I do. I know just such a man, and I wouldn’t be one bit surprised that he’s crying silent tears for me just as often as I’m weeping for him. At least he has Mama and the other youngsters who are still at home.”

  “So you are lonesome, too?”

  A quiet nod was Missie’s answer.

  “I expect it gets better.”

  “I hope so. I truly hope so,” Missie said fervently. “I’m counting on God to make it so.”

  “You know... you talk to God?”

  “Oh yes, without Him—”

  “I’m so glad!” Becky exclaimed. “It’s He who gives me daily courage, too. I’m not very brave... even with Him. But without Him, I’d be a downright coward.”

  Missie sniffed away her tears, and the two shared a laugh at Becky’s confession.

  “I’m glad I’ve got Willie,” Missie said. “He has enough courage for both of us.”

  “So does John. He can see nothing but good in our future. Oh, I do hope that I won’t let him down.”

  Missie reached over and squeezed the girl’s hand. “You won’t,” she encouraged firmly. “You’ve got more than you allow yourself, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Oh, Missie, I hope so.”

  “Are you afraid... about the baby?”

  “A little. But I try not to think about things like that. Mostly I’m tired and a little sick from the sun and the motion of the wagon. I’ll be so glad when I’m feeling well enough to walk.”

  “You must be careful not to walk too long at first.”

  “John thinks that walking will do me a lot of good. He says fresh air and good exercise is what I need. His ma had nine babies and never missed a day’s work with any of them.”

  Well, good for John’s ma, Missie wanted to say, but she held her tongue. Instead she said, “There’s a midwife here. She’s delivered lots of babies. She’ll tell you if you should be pushing yourself and walking some.”

  “John told me about her, but I haven’t met her yet.”

  “You’ll like her, I’m sure. I met her today. She’s just the kind of woman one would like to help with a birthing. I’ll bring her around to meet you, if you’d like.”

  “Would you, Missie? I haven’t felt up to seeking her out, and I do have a lot of questions. If my mama...” Becky did not finish but blinked quickly.

  “I’ll bring her by tomorrow, if I can,” Missie assured her gently. Then she said, “When we left—Willie an’ me—my pa gave us a special verse. We have sort of claimed it as ours, but no one really has any special claim on God. His promises are for all of His children. I’d like to share our verse with you. I hope it will be as special to you as it is to Willie and me. It comes from Isaiah.” She paused, then quoted from memory, “‘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.’ That’s an awful lot of promise for one verse to offer, but I feel sure that God really means it. He can—and will—be with us, in life or in death. I know He is with us through everything.”

  “Thank you, Missie, I really needed that truth. When you drop by on the morrow, would you do something for me? It’s too dark to see right now, but I’d like you to show me where that verse is so I can read it for myself. Would you do that?”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  The menfolk had gone on down to check the horses and rub some of Willie’s ointment on the black’s sore shoulder. The silence that followed Missie’s words was broken only by the crackling of the fire. Missie found herself wishing she could tell Becky her own good news, but she held it back. Willie must be the first one to know. She must tell Willie—soon. It wasn’t right to keep it from him. If only he wouldn’t be worried. If she could just conquer her tiredness and perk up a bit. How thankful she was that she hadn’t been troubled with bouts of morning sickness.

  Becky interrupted her thoughts. “I’m afraid I have to confess to a lie, Missie. I’m not just a little afraid—I am scared—about the baby, about maybe not having a doctor, about the way I’ve been feeling. I don’t know one thing about babies, Missie—not about their birthing or their care. The thought of maybe having t
hat baby on this trip west nigh scares me to death, but John says...” She shook her head slowly and let the words hang.

  Missie spoke quickly. “An’ John’s right. That baby will probably be born in Tettsford in a pretty bedroom with a doc there to fuss over him. But if... if the little one does decide to hurry it up a bit, then we have Mrs. Kosensky—about as good a woman as you’d find anywhere. Just you wait till you get to know her. She’ll put your mind at ease. I’ll fetch her around, first chance I get.”

  Becky summoned a smile. “Thanks, Missie. You must think me a real crybaby, carrying on so over an ordinary circumstance like a baby’s coming. I’d like to meet Mrs. Ko... Ko... what’s her name? Maybe she can even get me feeling better so I can do some walking with you. I feel like every bone in my body is turned to mush by the jarring, bouncing wagon.” She smiled and rose. “The men should be coming back soon. Do you think they’d like some coffee?”

  On Saturday night after supper, Trailmaster Blake called for a gathering of the wagon-train members.

  “Life on a trek west can be a tad dull,” he stated matter-of-factly, “so iffen any of ya can play anything thet makes a squeak, we’d ’preciate it iffen you’d bring it out.”

  Henry produced a guitar and Mr. Weiss a rather wornlooking fiddle. A time of singing around the fire was arranged, and folks joined in heartily, humming the tunes when they did not know the words. Some of the children jumped or skipped or swayed to the music in their own version of a folk dance.

  What Mr. Weiss could accomplish on his well-used fiddle was quite remarkable, and Henry was rather adept at keeping up with him. Henry was also blessed with a pleasant singing voice, and he led the group in one song after another, some of them camp choruses and others favorite hymns. Missie loved every minute of it, and the singing brought back memories of their little congregation back home worshiping together. She decided Henry’s healthy appetite was well worth feeding, and she determined to always be ready with generous second helpings.