by Janette Oke
Whether it was Scottie’s driving or Marty’s wishful thinking or the eagerness of the team to return to their stalls, Marty never knew for sure. But the remainder of the trip down the long winding hill went more quickly.
At the bottom of the hill, Scottie “whoaed” the horses and handed the reins to Clark. “I’ll jest be gettin’ on back to my duties,” he said. “You’ll be wantin’ to make yer greetin’s in private,” he added as he stepped down from the wagon.
“And many thanks to ya fer yer welcome an’ fer drivin’ us this long way,” Clark said warmly. Scottie tipped his hat to them and moved off toward the barn. Marty climbed up beside Clark for a better view of the house as the horses moved forward. A flash of red calico in a window, and then . . . there was Missie, her arms opened wide and her face shining with tears, running toward them calling their names. Marty ran to embrace her beloved daughter. They held each other close, crying and laughing and repeating over and over tender, senseless endearments.
At last, at last, sang Marty’s heart. At last I have my “if only.”
The hours that followed were wild with excited chatter and activity. The two grandsons had immediately captivated their newfound grandparents. Marty was so thankful that the boys moved forward without hesitation and even allowed hugging. Nathan beamed his pleasure. He was all ready to take charge of the entertainment of these two special people in his mother’s life. “Mama said I could show ya my room,” and “Mama said you’d go ridin’ with me, Grandpa,” and “Mama said you’d like to see my own pony,” and “Mama said you’d read to me sometimes.” Missie laughed, and Marty realized she had been carefully preparing her children for the adventure of meeting their grandparents.
Josiah was too young to be as active in the conversation, but he pulled at coattails and hands and insisted on “Up!” Marty was thrilled with how quickly the two little boys felt at ease with their grandparents. When Josiah did manage to steal a scene from Nathan, he was full of chatter of “See this” and “Do you like my . . . ?” and “Lookit, G’amma.” For Clark and Marty, their hearts were captured at sight by the two small boys.
The whole house was filled with happy sounds as Missie proudly showed them from room to room. Marty exclaimed over the comfort, the coolness, and the attractiveness of the big stone house. They had entered through wide double doors into a large cool hall. The floor was of polished stone, and the inside walls were textured white stucco. Missie had used paintings with Spanish-Mexican influence to decorate the walls and had placed an old Spanish bench of white wrought iron against one wall. The bench had cushions of a flower-print material, and Missie had picked up the shade of green in them to highlight little finishing touches in the room, a pleasing and cool effect. The living room was large and airy with a mammoth stone fireplace and deep red and gold fabrics on the furnishings. The draperies, of matching material, were tied back with gold cords. It looked Spanish and—thought Marty—very rich and inviting. The floor was dark-stained wood, and the walls were, like the entry, textured stucco. Scattered across the polished wooden floors were deep-colored rugs—not the homemade variety but store bought. The pictures and lamps were Spanish—and elegant, with blacks, reds, and golds predominant. Marty viewed her surroundings in awe. Never had she seen such a grand living room, she told Missie.
On they moved to the dining area. “And,” said Missie, with a wave of her hand and a laugh, “that’s as far as we’ve been able to go with our grandness. From here on, it’s common living. But it’ll come together, little by little, with each cattle shipment.”
Missie gestured toward a long homemade trestle table that easily seated eight. “Willie has promised me some dining room chairs and a real table this fall.” Though the chairs looked comfortable enough, they were not matched or of particular quality. The white-stuccoed walls were quite bare, and inexpensive curtains hung at the windows. A simple cabinet against the far wall held the good dishes that Marty had insisted Missie take west. Somehow the simple, homey room put Marty’s heart at ease. The differences now between them might not be so great after all.
“Oh, Missie, I’m so proud of you and so happy for you!” she exclaimed with a quick hug. Clark’s approving grin echoed that sentiment.
The bedrooms were all big and roomy, but again, the furnishings here were simple and the curtains and spreads and the rugs on the floor were all homemade. Marty recognized many things she had helped to sew.
Missie led them to the other wing, the kitchen area of the house. Marty was surprised when Missie stopped at the door and gave a brief rap, then walked in. A wiry little Chinese man was busily engaged in preparations for the evening meal. Marty had not known that Missie had a cook.
“Wong,” said Missie, “this is my pa, my mama.”
The Chinese man favored them with a big grin and bobbed his head up and down as he acknowledged the introductions.
“How’do, how’do,” he said over and over. “Wong pleased with pleasure. How’do, how’do.”
Clark and Marty both answered with smiles and greetings.
“Wong is trying hard to learn our difficult English,” Missie explained while Wong beamed at them. “He has done very well in a short time. He does not need to learn how to cook. He knew all about cooking when he came. Every rancher hereabouts envies us and hopes for an invitation often to eat his delicious food.”
Wong bobbed his head again and led them around the large kitchen. Marty had never seen so much working room. The stove was big, too, and Wong proudly lifted the covers from several steaming kettles, all sending forth delicious fragrances.
Missie led her parents down a hall and toward a back door.
“I had me no idea thet ya had a cook. My, my,” remarked Marty.
“Wong has not been with us for long,” Missie answered. “At first, I thought Willie was being silly to suggest it, but I wonder now why I even tried to fight it. Wong is so much help. He helps with the laundry, too. It gives me more time for the children, and I still have plenty to keep me busy with this big house. I’m glad that we have him—and it gives him a job and a home, as well. Nathan and Josiah adore him. But it made Cookie terribly jealous at first,” Missie continued. “He was so afraid that someone else would take his place with our boys. But the two rascals have managed to keep both of the men happy. Actually, the two cooks seem to really enjoy each other now. Most evenings they get together for a cup of coffee and a chat. In fact, Cookie is the one who volunteered to teach English to Wong.”
Missie’s long speech had brought them to the patio at the back of the house. The front, the bedroom wing on the one side, and the kitchen wing on the other surrounded this lovely area on three sides. The fourth side looked out toward the spring beyond Missie’s flower beds. When Marty remarked on their beauty, Missie informed her that they were all flowers she had taken from the neighboring hills, except for the bed of roses. Scottie, a little red-faced with embarassment, had presented her with the roses when he had returned from purchasing some choice livestock farther south.
The sheltered veranda between the patio and the house was shaded and cool in the late afternoon. Marty imagined what a pleasant place this would be to spend an afternoon sewing or reading to the children. She was very impressed with the home Willie had built for Missie. Marty was pleased with their good taste, and she admired Missie’s choice of color and texture in the living room. Also, it all said to Marty that times were good, that Missie and Willie were making upward strides after their primitive start in the soddy. The homier simple furnishings in the remainder of the house also spoke to Marty. These told her that Missie and Willie were willing to wait, to build gradually, to not demand everything at once, showing maturity and good judgment. Marty was proud of them—both of them.
After the tour through the house, Willie invited Clark out to see the barns and stock, and Missie took Marty to show her the garden, the spring, her chickens, and then the little soddy.
Nathan, who clung to Grandma’s hand, didn�
�t like to leave her to go with the men, but he was most anxious to show off his pony. Josiah, who had been riding on Grandpa’s shoulder, hated to climb down but did not want to get too far away from his mother. Besides, he absolutely adored the chickens! After some complaints from both of the children, the three “men” headed for the barn, and the women and the younger son took the path to the garden.
Marty was pleased at the sight of Missie’s garden. True, it wasn’t as far along as her own had been on the farm back east, but the plants looked healthy and productive, and Marty could see that many good meals would be coming from the little patch.
The water from the spring was not as ambitious as the spring back home, but the effect it had on the surrounding area outweighed the difference. All around were brown hills and windswept prairies, but near the spring crowded green growing things and small shivery-leafed trees—truly an “oasis.”
Missie briskly led the way to the chicken pen. Forty or fifty hens squawked and squabbled in the enclosure. They looked healthy enough, and Missie assured her mother that they were very good egg producers.
Josiah immediately began hollering at the chickens, attempting to throw handfuls of grass and dirt at them through the wire. Since the wind was blowing from the wrong direction, most of it blew right back into Josiah’s face, so Missie put a stop to the activity. Josiah was quick to obey, blinking dust from his eyes.
As they moved on toward the unassuming soddy, Marty noticed that Missie referred to it with love and even joy, a fact that Marty found very difficult to understand. Missie pushed open the rough wooden door and they entered the dim little sod shack. When Marty’s eyes had adjusted, she could make out the bed in the corner, the black iron stove right where it had been, the small table, and the two stools.
Marty gazed all around her, from the simple furnishings to the sod roof and the packed-dirt floor.
This is the “home” that waited for you after that long, hard trip? And you actually lived here, Marty thought incredulously. You actually lived in this little shack—and with a new baby! How could you ever do it? How could you stand to live in such a way? My, I . . .
But Missie was speaking: “Willie wanted to tear it down, to get it out of here, but I wouldn’t hear tell. I’ve got a lot of memories in this little place. We’ve had to resod the roof a couple of times. Roofs don’t last too long with the winter storms, the wind and rain. And once they start to leak, they aren’t good for anything.”
Marty did not express her feelings about the soddy. Instead she expressed her feeling for her girl. “I’m so proud of you, Missie—so proud. I hoped to bring ya up to be able to make a happy home fer the one thet ya learned to love. An’ ya did. Ya looked beyond these here dirt walls into the true heart of the home. Home ain’t fancy dishes an’ such, Missie. Home is love and carin’. Remember when I insisted on those fancy dishes, Missie? I said thet you’d be so glad fer them someday. So I fussed ’bout ya takin’ ’em, even though ya really had no room fer ’em an’ could’ve taken somethin’ more sensible in the little space you had in the wagon. Well, I was wrong, Missie.” Marty’s hand touched her daughter’s cheek. “I was wrong, an’ you were right. Home ain’t dishes, frills, an’ such, Missie. Home is love an’ carin’. You showed me thet ya could truly make a home, an’ ya could do it with jest yer own hands an’ yer own heart. I’m proud of ya. So very proud.”
Missie’s answering smile was understanding as Marty wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked around once more before leaving the small soddy. This time it did not look as bleak nor the floor as earthy. In those few short minutes, something had happened that changed the appearance of the little room.
Seven
Catching Up
After insisting on a story from both Grandma and Grandpa, the children were finally tucked into bed for the night. Clark and Willie moved into his office, a small room off the kitchen, to discuss the business of farming and ranching. Missie and Marty settled comfortably in the living room with coffee cups.
“It was useless to try to ‘catch up’ before this,” said Missie, “but I think things are quiet enough now for us to talk—really talk. I have so many questions. I just want to know about everyone—everyone. I hardly know where to start, but you might as well start talking, because I just can’t bear to let you go to bed until I find out all about those at home.”
Marty drew a deep breath. “I’ve been jest ’bout dyin’ to tell ya all ’bout the family. My, ya’d be surprised iffen ya could see yer brothers an’ sisters now!”
“Is big Clare still the tease?”
“Worse . . . worse, seems to me. He’s always funnin’, and I sometimes wonder iffen he’ll ever grow up. Yer pa says he will, once he marries an’ settles down.”
“And what is his Kate like? Clare wrote to me. Sounded in the letter as though she was nothing less than an angel sent from heaven. What’s she really like?”
“Kate’s a fine girl. We feel she’s jest what Clare needs. She’s quiet and steady, a little overly cautious at times, but they should balance each other real well. She’s quite tall, with brown hair, large violet eyes . . . I think it was the violet eyes thet caught Clare’s ’tention. Though she’s not what ya’d call a beauty, she does have very pretty eyes.”
“And you said they’re going to marry this fall?”
“August twenty-seventh. Might have been a little sooner, but we wanted to be sure and have lots of time to get home again and git us ready fer the big event.”
“Does Arnie have a girl?”
“He’s been callin’ on a little gal over in Donavan County. You remember Arnie—he’s more the shy type. He takes things pretty slow like. Ellie says thet Hester will need to do the proposin’ iffen it ever gits done!” Marty chuckled. “I think Arnie jest hasn’t quite made up his mind yet. Wants to be good an’ sure. She’s a nice little girl, but her brothers are rather no-goods. Have a bad reputation in the area. Arnie ain’t ’bout to let thet influence him, but he feels it’s important when one marries to accept all the family members.”
“Sometimes that just isn’t possible,” remarked Missie.
“Well, Arnie feels thet with Hester it has to be. She is very protective of her brothers. Would fight fer ’em if necessary. Arnie admires thet in her. But he wants to see the good in ’em that Hester sees. So far,” Marty laughed softly, “I think he’s been hard pressed to find some good, even though he’s sure been lookin’.”
“I hope he doesn’t spend too many years looking and in the meantime let some girl with no such problems be snatched up by someone else.”
Marty sighed. “Arnie deserves a good girl. He’s so sensitive to the feelin’s of others. He’s got a lot of his father in him, thet boy.”
“What about Ellie? Does she have a beau yet?”
“Not really. Not yet. Guess I was sorta hopin’ ya wouldn’t ask. I keep tryin’ to pretend thet she ain’t old enough yet—but I guess I know better, deep down. She’s old enough. She’s pretty enough, too. I guess she jest hasn’t encouraged them much to this point. Ma Graham remarked ’bout her soon marryin’ an’ leavin’ me. She’s right. I’ve seen the boys tryin’ to git her attention in a dozen ways. I always jest thought of it as schoolboy stuff. Not really. One of these days she’ll notice ’em, too.”
“Wish I could see her,” Missie said, the yearning clear in her voice. “I suppose there would not be any chance she could come out and stay with us for a while?”
Marty felt a moment of panic. Ellie come out here? The West is full of young men. Why, if she came to see her older sister, she might marry and never return home again! Marty fought back her uncomfortable thoughts and responded in an even voice, “Maybe she could come on out on her honeymoon.”
“But you said she didn’t even have a beau—”
“She don’t yet. But, my, thet can happen fast enough. I’m half scared she’ll have her mind all made up ’bout some young fella by the time I git back home.”
Missi
e laughed. “Now, I hardly think that’s possible. Not for the short time you’ll be away. Are you sure you can only stay for two weeks? Seems hardly worth coming all this way for such a short time.”
“We couldn’t possibly stay longer. Takes a week to come out an’ a week to go home. By the time we git back, we’ll have been gone a whole month. It’s a busy time of the year, ya know. Pa left his boys completely on their own fer the summer hayin’ an’ all, an’ Clare has to git his house ready. Luke is studyin’ hard for his college exams an’—”
“Dear little Luke.” Missie’s voice was gentle. “How is he?”
A softness filled Marty’s eyes. “He’s not changed. Growed a little, I guess, but he’s still got his same ways. Remember how he liked to cuddle up close in your lap when he was a young’un? Well, I git the feelin’ sometimes he’d still like to do thet—iffen society wouldn’t condemn it. He finds other ways to show love now. ’Member how you always used to pick me birthday strawberries? Well, yer pa broke up the pasture where the strawberries grew so well, so the last couple a’ years the kids have jest forgot the strawberries. This year Luke decided thet I needed my birthday berries, so he went out real early an’ went lookin’ fer ’em. Had to really work hard, but he came back with a cupful. They was little and a mite on the green side, but I never tasted any better berries—ever.”
“An’ he’s still doing well in school?”
“He’s a good student, but he’s through at the local school now. The teacher says she’s given him everythin’ she can give. He’s read everythin’ in sight an’ still can’t git enough.”
“What will he do? He can’t just quit.”
“He plans to go on. Wants to go to the city fer college. I’m glad . . . an’ scared . . . an’ sad. All at the one time. I hate to see him go off alone like thet. Seems so young. He’s only fifteen.”
“Is he plannin’ to be a teacher?”