Love's Enduring Promise Page 7

  But it was with reluctant steps she left to join Clark in the wagon. She waved good-bye once more and put on a brave smile.

  “Bring us some yummies,” Clare called to her.

  “An’ some new hair ribbons fer school,” added Missie.

  “Thet girl,” laughed Clark, “she thinks far too much ’bout how she looks.”

  Marty coaxed forth a smile.

  “Clark,” she said as they left the gate, “do ya think it’s good to leave ’em like thet—with jest the girls an’—”

  “Why not?” Clark interrupted. “They been cookin’ an’ cleanin’ fer years already.”

  “But they haven’t had young’uns to care fer.”

  “No, thet’s right, but carin’ fer young’uns seems to be the one thing thet pleasures Nandry.”

  “I noticed thet, too,” Marty responded. “She really seems to enjoy Arnie. An’ he likes her, too. Oh, I hope it will be all right, but I won’t feel easy like until we git home agin. I sure hope this is a fast trip.”

  “Yer frettin’ too much, I’m thinkin’, but we’ll try to hurry it a bit. Won’t take me long to take care o’ the things I be needin’. How ’bout you?”

  “Shouldn’t take long. I need school things fer the girls an’ the usual groceries.”

  “Ya need money, then.”

  “I have my egg savin’s.”

  “No need to spend all yer savin’s on outfittin’ the girls. I’m ready to share in the carin’ of ’em.”

  Clark tucked the reins between his knees and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a couple of bills.

  “Think this is enough?”

  “Thet’ll be fine,” she answered. “I ’preciate it. It’s gonna take a bit to git ’em off to school proper like. They really own nothin’ now thet’s fittin’ to wear.”

  Clark nodded. “Well, we knew when we took ’em thet they’d cost somethin’. No problem there.”

  They drove into town to find the streets filled with commotion. A wagon train was getting ready to move on. Dogs barked, horses stomped, and children ran yelling through the street. Men argued prices and women scurried about, running to the store for a last-minute purchase or looking for children who had been told to stay put but hadn’t. Marty shook her head and decided she had picked a poor day to come to town—surely her shopping would be slowed down considerably.

  She entered McDonald’s General Store with some trepidation. She always dreaded facing the proprietor’s scrutinizing eyes and sharp tongue.

  “I declare,” Marty had said to Clark on one occasion, “thet woman’s tongue has no sense of propriety.”

  Missie had overheard the word and latched on to it, henceforth declaring of all things—particularly to young Clare—“You’ve no sense of pa’piety,” which seemed to mean, “Yer jest plain dumb.”

  Marty had decided after that she’d better guard her tongue more carefully in Missie’s presence.

  Marty now straightened her shoulders to help her brace up before opening the McDonalds’ door. To her relief, Mrs. McDonald was busy with three women from the train. She glanced at Marty and opened her mouth to call out something, but must have changed her mind to give full attention to her customers. Marty smiled briefly and crossed to the bolts of dress goods. What relief to be left on her own for making the selections. Mentally she calculated as she lifted bolt after bolt. The new dresses had to be serviceable, but, oh, how she’d like to have them pretty, too, and the prettier material added the cost up so quickly. The dark blue would wear half of forever, but how would one ever make it look attractive for a young girl? The soft pink voile was beautiful but looked like you could sip tea through it without even changing the taste. Hardly appropriate for a farm girl.

  Mrs. McDonald was now enjoying the bits of gossip the travelers could supply, prying rather transparently for the whys of their coming or going. Marty weighed her decisions with care. She picked neither the dark blue nor the pink. No use takin’ material thet’ll wear too long, she reasoned. They’ll outgrow it ’fore ya know it anyway. But ya never know—maybe Nandry’s can go to Clae, then to Missie. . . . Eventually she selected a length of medium blue, a pearly gray color that she would make up with white collar and cuffs, some warm brown, and a couple of prints, one with a green background and the other red. She then chose materials for underclothes, nighties, and bonnets and moved on to choose stockings, boots, and some heavier material for coats. Until the colder weather arrived the girls could get by with capes she could make out of material she already had on hand.

  As she added bolt after bolt to the stack on the counter to be measured off, she realized what an enormous sewing job she had ahead of her. She was thankful she already had worked on Missie’s school clothes.

  Missie! She had asked for new hair ribbons. Marty moved quickly to choose some for Nandry and Clae, too.

  Her shopping was going well, thanks to the wagon-train ladies keeping Mrs. McDonald busy. She laid the last dry goods items on the counter and rechecked her list. Even with the money that Clark had given her, most of her egg-and-cream money would go. Well, she couldn’t help that. She had promised Tina Larson she would give the girls a chance, and she planned on doing just that.

  She went on to her grocery list, placing items on the counter as she selected them. Before she had finished, Clark entered the store. His eyebrows moved up at the great heap on the counter, but he made no comment.

  “Most done,” Marty offered. “Did ya git the things ya be needin’?”

  “All but a piece fer the plow. The smithie had to order it in, but I expected thet. Thet’s why I sent now ’stead of waitin’ fer later.” He grinned in anticipation. “There be jest a chance thet it’ll make it fer spring plowin’.”

  The other women gathered their bundles and left the store, and Mrs. McDonald scurried toward Clark and Marty.

  “Well, well, how are the Davises?” she began but left no time for a reply. “I hear thet ya took on them two Larson girls.” Her eyes dared them to deny it, at the same instant declaring them out of their minds for so doing.

  She now waited just a moment, but neither Clark nor Marty commented.

  “I have my purchases laid out here, Mrs. McDonald,” Marty said evenly. “I believe thet’s all I be needin’ today.”

  Mrs. McDonald went to work adding up the groceries, but her snapping eyes promised Marty she wasn’t finished with her yet. When the woman had the total figured, Clark stepped forward to pay that bill, then began gathering up the purchases.

  “I’ll take the groceries on out to the wagon,” he informed Marty, “then be back to help with them other things.”

  “I can manage ’em,” Marty assured him. “Jest wait in the wagon fer me. Where is the team?”

  “Jest across the street.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there quick like.”

  Marty walked to the door with him and opened it as he went out, both arms loaded. She picked up the box she had left by the entrance, placing it on the counter.

  “My eggs, butter, and cream fer today. I’d like ’em to go toward these things, please,” she said to Mrs. McDonald, motioning toward the stack on the counter.

  When she had figured the worth of the farm produce, Marty began to push bolts of material forward, naming the yardage she desired from each one. In between snips of the scissors, Mrs. McDonald managed to pry for tidbits that Marty was sure she would later be able to pass on to her next customers.

  “Jedd said ya was most keen on keepin’ the girls.”

  Marty nodded.

  “People here figurin’ as to why. Some say thet with yer own three young’uns, ya figured to need the help pretty bad. I said,

  ‘Now, Mrs. Davis wouldn’t stoop to usin’ mere children like,’ but . . .” She stopped and shrugged her shoulders to indicate she could be wrong.

  “‘Seemed to me thet it makes more sense to keep ’em fer their board,’ says I. ‘Girls thet age ain’t much fer workin’, but with Jedd jinglin’ all
thet hard cash, no reason the Davises shouldn’t git in on some of it.’ ” Marty could feel her cheeks flushing with anger. How this woman could goad her!

  “Anyway, I says to folks thet, knowin’ ya like, I’m right sure Miz Davis won’t overwork those two, an’ a bit of good hard work might be the best thing fer ’em. Never did care much fer those two—real shifty eyes. Grow up useless like their pa. I’ll bet ya won’t git much work outta those two, but iffen ya got a fair cash exchange—”

  Marty could take no more.

  “Mrs. McDonald,” she said, trying hard not to let her anger show through her words, though she knew she probably wasn’t succeeding, “we took the girls ’cause their ma wanted ’em to have a chance, an’ I made a promise ’fore she died. I aim to keep thet promise iffen I can—an’ there was no money, Mrs. McDonald. Fact is, my husband paid Jedd Larson to be ’llowed to keep his daughters.”

  “I see . . .” But Mrs. McDonald quickly recovered. “Thet’s what I wanted to know. Why didn’t ya say so without all the fuss? Some people are so closed like with information.”

  Then she added, “Thet’s jest what I been figurin’. Thought me thet folks were wrong in their speculatin’.”

  Mrs. McDonald had scored again. Why does she always get what she wants from me? Marty fumed. She had told no one else of her promise to Tina except Ma, and Ma guarded secrets carefully. Now the whole county would know, and the story would change as it was passed from mouth to mouth.

  She fought for composure, paid for the purchases, and quickly gathered her parcels. They made quite a load, and she wished she had accepted Clark’s offer to return to help her.

  “All them fancy things ain’t fer those girls, are they? Seems to me stuck way out there on yer farm, ya could jest as leave patch up their old things.”

  “The girls will be goin’ to school come September.” Marty said the words firmly. And she recognized just a trace of pride in her voice. Well, so be it. Before Mrs. McDonald could say anything further, Marty resolutely headed for the door with quick steps.

  As she entered the street the commotion from the wagon train was even more intense. The teams were lined up now, ready to leave within a few minutes. Horses still stomped, dogs still barked, and children still yelled, but the bartering of the men was over and the final purchases of the women had been made. People stood in clusters by the wagons saying farewells and giving last-minute messages to be passed on to someone at the other end of the journey.

  The third wagon back must be simply a passenger wagon, Marty decided, for a miscellaneous group of people seemed to be aboard it. The canvas, for the present, was down, and several plank seats had been placed across the wagon box. Most of the passengers appeared to be making a journey of short duration, perhaps to a nearby larger center, for they obviously traveled light. Maybe men on business or women going out to shop or visit. Some of them had young children with them, and their faces showed anticipation at the prospect of the trip.

  In the midst of the clamor and excitement sat a white-faced, somber-eyed lady with three small children. One child cried, another clung to his mother fearfully, and the third and oldest, a boy, sat hollow cheeked and drawn, simply staring ahead silently.

  “Thet’s Miz Talbot from the other side of town,” said a voice at Marty’s shoulder, and she turned slightly to see that Mrs. McDonald had come out from the store, no doubt to get in on all the excitement. “Never should’ve come west,” she stated. “Not made of the right stuff. She’s leavin’. Goin’ back.” Her words were clipped and sounded rather biting.

  Marty looked at the poor young woman and wished with all her heart she’d had a chance to speak with her.

  Suddenly a young man pushed through the crowd almost at a run. The oldest child jumped to his feet, arms open wide, and shouted with delight. The woman looked alarmed. Marty could not hear the words, but she sensed the man was arguing and pleading for the woman to stay. However, the woman just set her lips tightly and shook her head. Finally she turned her back on him completely, her shoulders held stiff and stubborn.

  The order of “move out” was given, and with a creak and a grind, the cumbersome wagons began to move forward. The man had to disentangle himself from the arms of the crying child and gently push him back into the wagon. The child screamed and shouted after him, and Marty thought for one terrifying moment that he was going to jump.

  All his life he’ll wish he’d left those two little arms around his neck and kept thet young boy with him, Marty mourned.

  The wagon moved on past her. She could not see the woman’s face, but she noticed her shoulders had lost their defiance and were now shaking convulsively.

  Oh, you stubborn thing, Marty’s heart cried, come back—come back, but the wagon moved on.

  Marty turned to see the man, hands over his face, leaning against a hitching rail for support, the sobs wrenching his body.

  A sickness filled her whole being. It was wrong, it was wicked, it was so cruel to tear a family apart like that.

  “Good riddance, says I,” said the voice beside her, and Marty turned quickly away and stumbled across the street to the waiting wagon.

  Clark placed her bundles in the wagon box and helped her up. Then the team, at his command, moved out of town.

  They traveled some distance in silence. The warm summer sun shone down upon late flowers waving at the sides of the road, and birds dipped back and forth in the path of the team. Marty’s anger and hurt had begun to subside, but her confused thoughts still fought to sort it all out.

  Suddenly she felt her hand gripped tightly and looked up into Clark’s probing eyes.

  “So ya saw it, too, huh?” he questioned.

  She nodded dumbly, her eyes filling with tears.

  He squeezed her hand again.

  “Oh, Clark,” she said when she finally felt enough control to speak. “It was so wrong, so awful, an’ . . . an’ . . . it could have been me,” she finished in a rush of emotion.

  “But it wasn’t,” he answered firmly. “It wasn’t, an’ somehow. . . somehow, I really don’t think it ever could’ve been.”

  Marty looked up in surprise to meet his even gaze. Their unspoken communication assured her.

  “No,” she finally said with similar conviction, “no, maybe it never could’ve.”

  Clark was right for her—so right. Their love was strong and good. The good Lord had prepared them for each other—even when Marty didn’t know Him and even had loathed the thought of staying on with Clark. Yes, their love had promise—enduring promise.

  ELEVEN

  Family and Teacher

  Marty and Clark’s return to the farm found everything in order, and Marty couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Arnie was very glad to see his mother, but he quickly forgot she had been gone and went on with his play.

  Besides her usual daily chores and the garden, Marty had only a few weeks to complete the sewing she planned to do for the Larson girls. Nandry seemed to accept the new items as inconsequential, but Clae’s eyes took on a shine as they laid it all out and distributed the various things to each. Marty began her sewing lessons with Clae almost immediately and discovered her to be a good student. This pleased them both, and Clae soon was actually able to be a help and do more and more. Nandry also was shown how to sew, but though she went through the motions and did well enough at it, she never seemed to be too interested. She was much more involved in caring for Arnie and entertaining Clare. Nandry’s contribution to the household was much appreciated. With the two small boys out from underfoot, Marty’s and Clae’s sewing progressed without too many interruptions, as did the other tasks that needed to be done.

  Clark looked at the finished garments and smiled his approval. “My girls will all look jest fine a-sittin’ in thet new schoolroom,” he declared. Nandry flushed and Clae beamed at being included as one of “my girls.”

  Marty began to notice little things and wondered if indeed Nandry was a bit too taken with her ben
efactor. Clark’s appearance was the only thing that ever brought a change of expression to Nandry’s face, and Marty often caught her watching Clark as he went about the yard. She noticed as Nandry set the table that Clark’s plate and cutlery were arranged with special care.

  I think I’ll be plum glad to git thet girl off to school, she thought with a sigh, then immediately reprimanded herself. Ya silly goose, she scolded inwardly, coloring in spite of herself. Here ya are havin’ jealous pangs over a mere child.

  It surprised her somewhat to discover this feeling. She had never been in a situation to feel threatened before, never having had to share Clark with anyone but her children.

  “God, fergive me,” she prayed, “an’ help me not to be selfish with the man I love. Nandry is growin’ up, perhaps too quickly, but it’s by no choice of her own. She didn’t have much to look up to in her own pa, an’ now seein’ a man, thoughtful an’ carin’, hardworkin’ an’ with humor in his eyes, no wonder she admires ’im like. Anyway, Lord, help me to be wise an’ to be just. Help me to love Nandry an’ to help her through these painful years of growin’ up. Help Clark, too. Give ’im wisdom in his carin’.”

  Marty made no mention of her observations to Clark. There was no use drawing his attention to something of which he seemed to be completely unaware. It could accomplish no good and perhaps would only serve to put an unnatural restraint between the man and the girl, and Nandry so much needed to be able to reach out, to love and be loved. Secretly Marty hoped Clark would never realize the young girl was nursing a youthful infatuation.

  For the most part, Clark was away in the fields, and though Nandry took care of the chickens and the little ones in comparative silence, Marty observed her looking off in the direction that Clark was working and the flush on her face when he entered the house. Clark never did seem to notice and teased each of his girls equally.