The Love Comes Softly Collection

by Janette Oke

  A young woman came rushing from the house.

  “Missie!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so glad you have come. I’ve been missing our visits!” She saw Marty and stopped with embarrassment. “Oh, please do excuse my bad manners. I did not know that Missie was not alone. You must be the mother. The one Missie has missed and cried and prayed for.”

  Marty nodded and smiled.

  “And I am Maria—the mindless one,” she quipped. “I run heedless when I see a friend.”

  Marty laughed and extended her hand, then changed her mind and hugged Maria close.

  “Missie has told me of ya,” Marty said carefully. “Yer such a special friend, and I am so glad to meet ya,” she finished warmly.

  “And I you,” said Maria, giving Marty a warm embrace in return, “though I must say that seeing you makes me even more longing for the mama of my own. It has been so long. . . .”

  Maria did not finish her sentence. Missie had lifted the boys down, and they were clamoring for some attention.

  “Where’s José?” asked Nathan.

  “He’s in the house, where we all should be out of this hot sun. Come, you must get in out of the heat. You are brave to come on such a day.” And Maria quickly led them all into her home.

  “José is in the kitchen bothering the cook,” she told Nathan. “You may get him and you can play in his room. I don’t think that even our patient Carlos could put up with two small boys in the kitchen.”

  Nathan went to find José, and the ladies walked into the coolness of the sitting room, Josiah in tow. Marty felt so much better out of the sun. She slipped off her bonnet and was glad to wipe the perspiration from her face with a handkerchief. My, it was a hot trip!

  Maria seated them and went for cool drinks. Upon hearing the two older boys chattering as they came from the kitchen, Josiah decided to tag along with them to José’s room.

  The ladies were left to sip cold tea and visit. The talk was centered around the family, area news, and ranching. Marty was included, though some of the phrases the two young women used regarding ranching were new to her.

  “You should have waited for a day more less hot,” said Maria and then laughed at her mixed-up English. “How you say it?” she asked Missie.

  “A cooler day.”

  “My goodness—cooler, no! There is nothing cool about this day. How can it be more cool than something that is not cool at all?”

  Marty and Missie laughed at Maria’s reasoning. They had no answer to her logic.

  “Anyway,” said Maria, “it is very warm in the sun. We are used to it here, but you, Mrs. Davis, must find it bad to you.”

  “It is warm,” admitted Marty. “This tea is jest right.”

  “Well, I guess we should have waited,” Missie said. “But who knows, it might get hotter instead of cooler, and I did want to see you, Maria.”

  “A special reason?” asked Maria seriously.

  “Rather special. We’ve been missing you on Sundays, and I was afraid—well, I wondered—that is, I hoped nothing was wrong.”

  At the mention of the Sunday service, Maria’s head drooped.

  “I wanted to go. I missed it. But Juan—well, he is not so sure. Not sure that we do the right thing. At home we teach our boy one thing—one way to pray, one way to worship God—and at the meeting, you teach him another way. It puzzles him. You understand? Juan, he thinks that we should not confuse our son with more than one God.”

  “But, Maria,” exclaimed Missie, “we’ve talked about that! It’s the same God. We worship the same God, just in a little different way.”

  “I know, I know,” said Maria, her hands fluttering expressively. “I know all that. And I think that Juan, he even understands that. But he is frightened—frightened that José will not understand and he will not wish to worship God at all. Do you not see?”

  “Yes, I see,” said Missie slowly, tears filling her eyes. “I see.”

  “Oh, I am so glad. So glad that you understand. I was afraid you would not be able to see how we felt. I did not want you to think ill of me.”

  “Maria, I would never think ill of you.”

  Maria turned to hide her own tears. For a moment she couldn’t speak, and then she turned back to her guests and the tears were running down her cheeks.

  “You must pray for us. Right now Juan has many doubts, many questions. He cannot leave the church of his past, but he has here no church of his own. He does not want his child to grow up without the proper church teaching, but he is no longer sure what he wants our boy to be taught. There were things about Juan’s church—actually, my church, too—that he did not agree with, but we love our church. Juan has not forsaken it. He will never forsake it. In the services at your house we have heard new and strange things from the Bible. We did not know of them before. It takes much wisdom, much time, much searching of the heart to know the truth. Please be patient with us, Missie. And please pray for us that we may know the truth. One day we think, ‘This is it,’ and the next day we say, ‘No, that is it.’ It is hard—so very hard.”

  “I understand,” said Missie slowly. “We will pray. We will pray that you will find the truth—not that you will believe as we believe, but that you will find the truth. We believe with all our heart that God has given His truth to us in His Son Jesus Christ, that He came to die for us and to forgive us our sins, and—” Missie stopped short. “But you believe that, too, Maria. You have told me that Jesus is the only way that one can come to God.”

  “Oh yes,” said Maria. “That is the truth.”

  “Then all we really need to pray about is that God will show you and Juan if it’s all right to worship with us.”

  “I . . . I think so. We have been taught one way—you another.”

  “We will continue to pray.”

  “It is so important to Juan to raise his children in the correct way. You see, his family—” But Maria stopped midsentence and hastened to her feet. “I must see if Carlos has our coffee and cakes ready. You will have cooled enough by now to be able to enjoy some of Carlos’s coffee.” She hurried away without waiting for a reply.

  The talk over the coffee turned to lighter matters. They chatted about new material, dress patterns, and the gardens that were growing daily in spite of the heat. Missie finally announced that they must go, and Maria sent José and Nathan to find Pedro, the yard hand, to bring the team and hitch up the wagon.

  While the boys were running off to find the old man and give him the message, the women prepared to leave.

  “Please,” said Maria, “please could we have a prayer together? I have missed it so.”

  They knelt to pray. Missie prayed first, followed by Marty, and then it was Maria’s turn. She began slowly, in carefully chosen English, and then she stopped and turned to the other two ladies. “Do you mind—will you excuse me—if I talk to God in my own language? I know He understands my heart in any language, but I think He understands my tongue better in the language of my birth.” At their nods and smiles, Maria continued her prayer. Never had Marty heard a more fervent one. Maria poured out her soul to her God in honey-flowing Spanish. Though Marty could not understand a word of it, she understood the spirit of the prayer, and her heart prayed along with Maria. Surely God would answer this young woman’s yearning for the truth.

  Nine

  The Rescue

  Though still too warm for Marty’s liking, the weather turned a bit more bearable. Missie and Marty kept close to the shelter of the house, but Clark rode with the men almost daily. Marty could tell his farmer’s heart responded to the wide expanse of hillsides and roaming cattle, and he declared many times his love of the mountains.

  Nathan clamored for his grandfather’s attention. He was anxious to show off “his” part of the ranch to Clark. As yet, he was not allowed to roam freely on the open range. But there were well-worn trails closer to home that he claimed as his own. He had ridden them since he had been a baby carried on his mother’s back. Now Josiah had r
eplaced Nathan on Missie’s horse, and Nathan was allowed the privilege of his own pony.

  “Could ya ride with me today, Grandpa?” Nathan begged at the breakfast table.

  “Well, I shore don’t see why not,” answered Clark. “I ’spect maybe yer pa will be able to git by without me fer this here one day.”

  Nathan took his grandfather’s words seriously. “Ya can help him again tomorra,” he assured Clark, causing laughter to ripple around the table.

  “An’ where’re we ridin’ today?”

  “I’ll show ya the west ridge.”

  “An’ are there lots of excitin’ things to see on the west ridge?”

  Nathan nodded his head vigorously, since his mouth was too full of scrambled eggs to speak.

  “Well, then,” said Clark, “why don’t we jest go on out fer a look-see?”

  Nathan’s eyes sparkled in anticipation. He hurried through his meal and bounced down from the table.

  “What horse shall I tell Scottie to saddle for ya, Grandpa?” he asked with excitement.

  “Nathan,” said Willie quietly, indicating Nathan’s empty chair.

  Nathan crawled back up reluctantly and looked over at his mother, then back at his father. “May I be excused, sir?” he asked, subdued.

  Willie nodded and Nathan swung down from the chair.

  “What horse—” he began, but Clark stopped him with a laugh.

  “I think Scottie’s busy enough without worryin’ none ’bout me. I’ll saddle ol’ Turk when I git down there.”

  Nathan spun around and was gone. “I’ll get Spider,” he called over his shoulder as he ran out the door, then followed it with, “Too bad Joey’s too little.”

  “Joey?” questioned Marty.

  Missie laughed. “I thought and thought of a name for my second son that wouldn’t be all chopped up in a nickname. I thought I had one, too. Josiah. Surely no one could shorten that. But I wasn’t counting on Nathan. He’s called him Joey since the day he arrived.”

  “I think it’s rather nice,” Marty mused.

  “Well, I guess it’s all right—you know what I’ve decided? I’ve decided that almost any name is all right as long as it’s spoken with love.”

  Marty smiled her agreement.

  Clark finished his coffee and turned to Willie. “Well, cowboy, it looks like you’ll jest have to do yer best wranglin’ without me today. I’ve got me another pardner.”

  Willie grinned. “Wish I could come with ya, but I promised Hugh Caly thet I’d ride on over and take a look at some new stock he brought in. Yer lucky to be missin’ thet ride. It’s a long, hot one, an’ to save some miles, we pass right through some bad cactus territory. Near scratches the clothes right off ya.”

  “Thet there west ridge sounds better ’n better to me.” Clark smiled.

  “Nothing much of danger on the west ridge. Thet’s why we allow Nathan to ride there. Pretty lifeless over there. Ya’ll be lucky to even spy a rattler slitherin’ off.”

  “Well, iffen there be a rattler, I do hope it slithers off, all right,” said Clark. “I haven’t grown overfond of ’em.”

  “Jest don’t surprise ’em,” said Willie, “an’ you’ll be all right.”

  When Clark reached the barn, Scottie was unobtrusively giving Nathan a hand with the saddling of Spider. Clark went into the corral to bring out Turk. He still wasn’t too handy with the rope, but he managed to get the horse on the second try.

  They saddled up and left the yard, Missie calling to them as they rode out to make sure they both had full canteens.

  “Ma always worries,” confided Nathan in a loud whisper, to which Clark responded, “Thet’s what mas are for.”

  They rode to the west, then turned toward the south and followed the ridge for a few miles. There really wasn’t much new to see but an occasional glimpse of the mountain chain as it topped one of the nearer hills. Often they could look out to the east and see cattle, as Willie’s herd fed its way across the prairie. Once or twice they spotted a cowboy as he hazed the cattle. The sun was high in the sky when Clark suggested they pull over in the shelter of some big rocks and eat the lunch Missie had sent along. Nathan seemed to like the idea. The eating time was the most important part of any trail ride. Nathan crawled down from Spider and ground-tied him. Clark did likewise with Turk, looking around cautiously to make sure there were no rattlers sharing the rocks with them. He noticed Nathan doing likewise.

  “If rattlers are here, Grandpa, they’ll be in the sun ’stead of on this shady side,” he said. “But still Pa says ya always got to check to be sure.”

  Clark was pleased with the boy’s knowledge of his environment and his carefulness.

  “How much further we goin’?” asked Clark as they munched their sandwiches.

  “Not much, I guess. Nothin’ to see down there ’cept some ol’ hills with holes in ’em.”

  “Ol’ hills with holes?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “What kind of holes?”

  “Pa says they used to mine it.”

  “Mine it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What kind of mine?”

  “Dunno. Pa says fer me to stay away from the holes. He says they are dang’rous. Some stuff is gittin’ rotten or somethin’.”

  “Best we stay away from ’em, then,” agreed Clark, but he planned on asking Willie about the old mines when he got home.

  They had just finished their lunch and were gathering things together when they heard an approaching horse. The rider was coming full gallop, and Clark stood up to see what the reason might be. One did not usually ride at such pace in the heat of the midday sun.

  A young rider approached them, his legs beating at the sides of his horse and his unruly hair flying in the wind. Clark could hear him shout now and then, but he couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

  “Who’s thet?” Clark asked the young Nathan.

  For a moment Nathan just stood and stared without answering.

  “Who is he? Ya know?” Clark asked again.

  Nathan roused then, shaking his head.

  The rider pounded closer, and Clark could plainly hear him sobbing now. Clark stepped forward to be ready to stop the horse when the boy drew near.

  “You gotta come!” the frantic boy screamed even before he reached them. “You gotta come quick! Andy and Abe, they—”

  He had reached them, and Clark hauled in the lathered horse.

  “Whoa, there,” he said, reaching up in one smooth movement both to pull the horse to a halt and to run a quieting hand over its neck.

  “You gotta come—” The boy’s voice was agitated and hoarse with emotion.

  Clark moved a hand to the boy. “Jest take it easy. Take it easy. We’ll come. Now ya calm down some ’n’ tell—”

  “Abe an’ Andy!” cried the boy, tears making tracks down his dust-covered cheeks. “Abe an’ Andy are in there.”

  “Take it easy,” Clark said again. “Jest tell it slow like.”

  “We gotta hurry!” the boy barked impatiently.

  “We’ll hurry,” said Clark. “But first we gotta know where to hurry to.” Clark’s purposeful calm seemed to have its effect, and the boy took a big breath before continuing.

  “The mine. The ol’ mine shaft—they’re in there. It fell on ’em. They’ll never git out.”

  “Where?”

  “Over there. We were lookin’ ’em over, an’ the timbers broke an’ the mine fell in—”

  But Clark was already gathering the reins of his horse. “Nathan,” he said, “can ya ride home alone? Does yer pa ever let ya do thet?”

  “Sure,” said Nathan, his eyes wide.

  “Look, son,” said Clark, pulling the boy close. “I want ya to ride on back to the ranch. Tell Scottie, or whoever is around, thet some boys are trapped in a mine. Tell ’em to bring shovels an’ a wagon an’ come on the double. Ya got thet?”

  Nathan nodded his head in agreement, his eyes wide with the importa
nce of his mission.

  “Now ya ride on home. Take yer time—do ya hear? Don’t try to go fast. Jest take yer time an’ be careful. I’m gonna go with this here boy an’ help those kids. All right?”

  Clark boosted Nathan onto his pony and watched as the small boy headed back to the ranch on the familiar path. He was not concerned about the boy becoming lost. Nathan knew the way well. Clark was worried that panic might cause him to travel too fast and maybe end up in a spill. Nathan turned once to look back at his grandfather. “Remember. Go slow,” Clark called to him, and the boy waved his hand.

  The sobbing of the boy beside him brought Clark’s head around.

  “Okay, son. You lead the way. Take it easy. A fall with yer horse won’t help yer friends none.”

  They started for the mine, the boy’s spent horse wheezing for breath in choking gasps. Clark found that the mine was farther away than he had first thought.

  The boy still wept sporadically. He pushed his horse as fast as the poor creature could go. When they finally reached an opening in the side of a hill, he threw himself off.

  “They’re in there!” he cried. “We gotta git ’em out.”

  Smoke-colored dust still lingered in the air, evidence of a recent cave-in.

  “You know this mine?” he asked the boy.

  “Some,” the boy admitted with downcast eyes, and Clark could see that he knew it was forbidden territory.

  Some boards that obviously had closed off the cave entrance had been pried off and discarded at the side of its open mouth.

  “Tell me ’bout it,” Clark said, and as the boy hesitated, Clark took his arm. “Yer friends are in there. Remember? Now, I don’t know one thing about thet there cave. Tell me ’bout it. Does it have more than one branch? How far back were ya? Did the timbers collapse more’n once?”

  The boy responded. “It has three main tunnels. The first one takes off real quick to the right. It’s a short one. Don’t think the miners found anything there, so they jest left it. The second one goes off to the right, too. But the fellas are in the left one. It’s the biggest an’ was used the most. The timbers’re really bad in there. The shaft goes down deeper in the left one. Sometimes the steps are real steep an’ slippery. We was climbin’ up an’ we kept slippin’, so we grabbed hold of the side timbers to pull ourselves, an’ thet’s when it . . .” He couldn’t continue but put his face in his hands and sobbed.