by Janette Oke
“Ya been studyin’ it fer years, haven’t ya?”
“Yah, but—”
“An’ you’ve heard lots of preachin’?”
“Shore nuff.”
“An ya believe the Holy Spirit can teach the truth?”
“’Course I do.”
Henry grinned. “An’ ya ain’t overly busy these days, are ya?”
Clark couldn’t help but chuckle. “No,” he said, “I ain’t over busy. Been makin’ a few tops an’ whistles, an’ tyin’ a few knots, an’ eatin’, an’ complainin’, an’ makin’ folks run around waitin’ on me. Come to think on it,” he said, scratching his head with the blunt end of his knife, “seems I been powerful busy after all.”
They laughed together.
“Well?” spoke Henry, turning serious.
“Well,” responded Clark, “I need to do some thinkin’ an’ prayin’ ’bout thet one.”
“You do thet,” encouraged Henry and straightened up. He looked quite confident about where Clark’s thinking and praying would lead him.
“Gotta git,” said Henry. “The fellas will be wonderin’ where their boss has disappeared to. See ya come Sunday.” And he swung up into the saddle and left the yard at a canter.
Clark continued the work on his crutch, but his thoughts were far away from the task at hand. He paused occasionally to wipe away a tear or two. Maybe God was indeed turning this whole tragic accident into something far beyond what any of them could have imagined.
The group that gathered on Sunday in the large living room of the LaHaye household had again increased. With the Crofts were two other women from town and their children. One was the mother of Andy, the boy Clark had rescued from the mine. The other woman, young and sad looking, had just buried an infant son.
Four of the LaHaye cowboys sauntered in and took inconspicuous seats toward the back of the room, clearing their throats and fingering their wide-brimmed hats self-consciously as they waited for the singing to begin. The simple service was just starting when Cookie hobbled in with a reluctant-looking Wong in tow. Cookie had privately told the family he was going to get Wong to come by telling him this would be a good opportunity to add some new English words to his vocabulary.
Henry led the singing with his guitar, and Willie read the Scripture. After a time for prayer and another song, Willie allowed anyone from the congregation to share a Scripture or a thought. Henry rose to his feet. Clearing his throat, he began slowly with great seriousness.
“Ya all know as how we been feelin’ the need to git together like this Sunday by Sunday to hear the Word an’ pray. Maybe ya all ’preciate it as much as I do, but ya still feel somethin’ is missin’. Like we need to learn more ’bout the Bible. Thet’s why churches have preachers—to explain the meanin’ of God’s Word. Well, we ain’t had us a preacher. ’Course we do have the Holy Spirit as our teacher, an’ I thank God fer thet.
“This here summer Missie an’ Willie had the blessin’ of Mr. and Mrs. Davis comin’ fer a visit. It was jest to be a short one—a couple a’ weeks. We all know the tragic circumstances thet bring ’em to still be here. I say ‘tragic’ ’cause thet’s the way it seems to all of us. But I been thinkin’. Maybe God can bring good outta even this tragedy. The Word says thet all things can work together fer our good if we love God. Lately I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout some good thet might come from this. I spoke to Mr. Davis ’bout it, an’ he promised to pray on it. I’ve asked Mr. Davis if he won’t be our preacher an’ explain the Word to us Sunday by Sunday. Now, he ain’t a preacher, really. He’s a farmer. But he knows the Word of God, an’ he’s heard lotsa preachin’, an’ I think he’d have lotsa good Bible teachin’ to share with us.”
Faces began to turn toward Clark, and it was apparent many people were waiting expectantly to see how he would answer. Clark looked around him at the strange little congregation. Missie and Willie, along with Henry and Melinda, had grown even more in their faith since coming west. Rough cowhands sat before him, probably knowing very little about the Bible but seeming to be open to learning more. The sad young woman from town was obviously longing for some kind of comfort. The Crofts also needed healing for their recent bereavement. The family with the son whose arm still needed to be straightened sat with the group, along with Andy beside his mother. The de la Rosas had joined them that day, and the pain and the questions still lingered in Juan’s eyes. Clark’s heart went out to them all. He felt a strange stirring within, and he knew that, with God’s help, he must feed this flock. He stood up, his crutch held firmly in hand for support, and looked around at the faces before him.
“It honors me to be asked to open God’s Word with ya here. With God’s help, I will try to give to ya the meanin’ of the Scripture read each Sunday. We can learn together.”
He sat down, and enthusiastic nods and smiles swept around the room. Marty was so proud and happy she could have put her head against Clark’s shoulder and wept tears of joy.
Henry stood again, his face beaming. “We got us a preacher!” he exulted. “Now, what we gonna do ’bout a church? We’re gettin’ to be too big a crowd to fit here anymore.”
There were enthusiastic and spontaneous responses to the question. Many voices began to call that they would build their own church, and some made suggestions about where it should be located. Henry finally got things quieted enough to speak again.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” he said, “thet since there’s not a church in town yet, an’ this is a powerful distance fer some to travel, we oughta try to even things up a bit an’ put the church ’bout halfway fer everyone.”
“I’m ’bout halfway!” exclaimed Mr. Newton, jumping to his feet. “I shore would be right proud to be givin’ some of my land fer a church.”
Others nodded, their faces full of enthusiasm and anticipation. It was agreed that the church building could be located on the Newton ranch. “We’ll need us timber an’ materials an’ a buildin’ plan,” said Henry. “Lots of things to be decided.”
“Then let’s git us a committee,” someone called.
Eventually the group concluded that Willie, Henry, and Mr. Newton would be the building committee. The rest of the congregation would wait for orders and do their bidding. Excitement ran so high that tongues could not slow down even when Missie served coffee and cookies. They were going to have their own church! A dream come true.
Marty wrote another long letter to send east. They would not be returning home to the farm and the rest of their family until the next spring. Though Clark was daily gaining strength and would now be able to tolerate the train trip, he was going to stay and help establish the new church, giving the people lessons from the Scriptures and encouraging them in their building project.
Marty was pleased to see the enthusiasm with which Clark greeted each new day. He spent hours poring over his already-well-used Bible, and as his heart discovered new truths, his lips shared them with others. He often could not wait for Sundays but spoke excitedly with anyone who was within listening distance.
Clark also was busy with other matters, thinking about little inventions that would help him in overcoming his handicap. Daily his independence was growing. He scarcely needed aid any longer. He even adapted a saddle so he could again ride horseback with the men or with Nathan. He moved about the ranch on his own, carrying buckets or saddles in the hand that wasn’t occupied with the crutch. He went out to the garden and helped to dig the last of Missie’s vegetables. He went with Nathan to gather eggs and prepared fryers for Sunday dinner. Marty marveled and rejoiced as she watched him move about with confidence and assurance.
Marty knew that Missie, too, was glad to see her father up and around again. But she still could not seem to keep from fussing overly much. Marty realized it was Missie’s admiration for her father that was motivating her—trying to make him comfortable whenever she came near him, feeding him special treats from the kitchen, entertaining him with chats and games. But Marty could no longer ignore her
concerns. Surely Willie could not help but miss the attention that rightly should have been his.
In her growing anxiety, Marty took a walk, hardly knowing where to begin in her thinking to address the problem. Certainly Clark was loved in Missie’s home. Willie had great respect for him. Missie loved him deeply, and the boys doted on their grandfather. Still, Willie’s immediate family needed their own father and husband, and he needed Missie and their sons.
Marty wondered just how to discuss the issue with Clark. Would he see her concern and understand? What could they do? They were committed now to staying for the winter. And it wasn’t possible to live in Missie’s home and shut one’s self away from the rest of the family.
At last Marty decided she must at least talk it over with Clark. If he did not see it as anything to get concerned about, then Marty, too, would try to put it from her mind.
That night after they had retired, Marty hesitantly broached the subject. She hoped Clark wouldn’t think she was just being foolish, making mountains out of molehills.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” said Marty slowly from her side of the bed. “It must be rather difficult fer Willie with us here.”
“Willie?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be, normally. But now, with yer accident an’ all.”
“I try not to cut in on Willie’s time,” answered Clark. “I know he’s a very busy man. I’ve even found a few little ways I’ve been able to help lately.”
“Oh, Willie ain’t feelin’ at all thet yer a loafer, thet ya aren’t doin’ yer share,” assured Marty quickly. “I know thet. He’s always tellin’ me jest how special it is for ’im to have ya here. An’ he tells me, too, of how ya been organizin’ the corrals an’ fixin’ up his barn.”
“Yer talkin’ ’bout his family, then?”
“Ya mean—”
“I’ve been thinkin’ on it, too. Missie frets over me far too much. It’s done in love, an’ I ’preciate it, but it don’t leave her much time fer payin’ attention to her husband—to the boys, too. I love the little tykes very dearly. But they’re gittin’ so’s they come to me when they scratch a knee or pound a finger.”
“You’ve noticed!” exclaimed Marty, very relieved.
“I’ve noticed. An’ now thet you’ve noticed, it won’t be near so hard fer me to make the suggestion I been thinkin’ on.”
“Suggestion?”
“Well, we can’t jest up an’ pull out now. They do need us to git thet little church started. We can’t leave ’em now, Marty.”
Marty agreed with a nod.
“An’ it don’t seem too smart to be carryin’ on here in the same household as Willie an’ Missie. Two families in the same house for very long—especially when one of ’em is the grandparents—often don’t work so good.”
“So?” Marty queried.
“So I think it’s ’bout time fer a move.”
“A move? Now where could we move? Yer not thinkin’ of goin’ into thet wild town—”
Clark stopped her with a laugh. “No, no wild town.”
“Then—”
“The soddy.”
“The . . . the soddy?” Marty was incredulous.
“Why not? Willie and Missie lived in it fer two winters, an’ they had Nathan at the time. Surely you an’ me could make do fer one winter. Jest the two of us. I’ve been thinkin’ it might even be kinda fun.” He grinned and said, “Would be like the old days in our little cabin back when we . . .”
Marty’s expression must have slowed him down for a bit, but then he went on, “I’ve been checkin’ it over, an’ the walls are sturdy, the windows in place. The roof looks real good. Guess Willie jest had a new one put on to humor Missie fer our comin’ out here. No reason a’tall why we couldn’t be nice an’ comfy fer the winter there.”
Marty’s initial aversion to the idea began to soften. She laughed softly. “Well, I never dreamed I’d be livin’ in a soddy. An’ at my age!”
“Ya keep referrin’ to yer age,” said Clark. “I’m not about to consider myself married to an old woman, so ya jest better stop sayin’ it.”
Marty laughed again.
“Well,” prompted Clark. “What ’bout the soddy? Ya willin’? It still has the furniture—such as it is.”
“Why not?” said Marty, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “Think of all the time I’ll have jest to sit an’ read or sew. Not much to keepin’ a soddy up.”
“Sounds like a woman of leisure,” Clark commented. “But ya know I’ll at least be expectin’ as good care as I’ve got here—” But he couldn’t finish the thought since Marty was throwing her pillow at him.
“Then it’s settled,” he said when they’d finished laughing. “We’ll move in first thing tomorra.”
“Don’t ya think Missie might need some time to think on the idea?”
“She’ll git used to it. Ya give her time an’ she might jest think of all kinds’a reasons why we shouldn’t.”
“Maybe yer right,” agreed Marty. “All right, we’ll move tomorra, then.”
She kissed Clark and turned over to go to sleep. In the darkness, a smile played around her lips. She and Clark were going to live in a soddy! Wouldn’t her friends back home think that was something else? Well, she’d have her share of experiences to tell them, that was for sure. She could hardly wait to write the next letter back home to the children. Imagine that—she and Clark living in a soddy!
Fifteen
Moving
The next morning at the breakfast table, Nathan was busy shoving in Wong’s muffins by the mouthful and making plans for himself and his grandfather for the day.
“An’ we can ride over to the big hill an’ look right over the range to where all the hands will be drivin’ the cattle. We can see ’em start off on the trail drive to the town market. An’—”
“Whoa, cowboy,” said Clark. “Thet shore sounds like a lot of fun all right, but I’m afraid I can’t be runnin’ off today. Fact is, I was thinkin’ of askin’ fer yer help today.”
Nathan looked at his grandfather with surprise and interest. “Sure, Grandpa. I’ll help ya.”
Josiah cut in. “Me he’p G’an’pa.”
“You’re too little,” Nathan answered with big-brother assurance, but Clark was quick to encourage the younger boy. “Shore ya can help. We’re gonna need all the hands we can git.”
Josiah beamed at being included.
“What’re you up to?” asked Missie.
“Yer ma and me decided to move today.”
“Move?”
“Yep.”
“Stop your teasing, Pa,” said Missie.
“Not jokin’ around, daughter. Never been more serious.”
“Then what do you mean, ‘move’?”
“Well, we decided it might be kinda fun to spend the winter in the soddy.”
“You are joking!” Missie obviously could not believe Clark was serious.
“No, I’m not.”
“Whyever would you do that?”
“Why not? The soddy is snug and warm and big enough fer the two of us. It would be an adventure to talk about when we git back home.”
“Oh, Pa,” said Missie, exasperation in her voice. “Don’t talk about anything so silly.”
“Little girl,” said Clark firmly, “it’s not silly and I really am serious ’bout this.”
Missie turned to Marty. “Tell me he’s only teasing.”
“No,” said Marty matter-of-factly. “He’s not. We talked it over last night. We decided it would be better fer all of us if we lived separate fer the winter. We’ll be right nearby—”
“I don’t understand one word of what you’re sayin’,” Missie said, rising from her chair with her face white and set. “If you’re serious, I’d like to know why. Haven’t we been caring for you—?”
Clark quickly interrupted her. “My dear,” he said gently, “ya shore as the world have been doin’ everythin’ fer me . . . an fer yer ma. An’ we ’preciate it . .
. more’n we ever could say. But now thet I’m gittin’ about an’ am able to mostly care fer myself, well, yer ma an’ me think it’s ’bout time yer family had ya back again . . . all to themselves.”
Willie’s eyes widened with understanding, then he lowered his gaze. Marty knew he would say nothing, but she also knew he was aware now of their observations about the situation in his home.
“That’s silly,” Missie continued to fume. “My family has had me all along. Never have I been more than a few feet away from any of them. Why, they always knew right where to find me. We’ve loved having you here. Besides, it was all because you came to visit us that you lost that leg—”
“Missie,” Clark interrupted again, “I don’t want to ever hear ya say thet I lost my leg because I came here. It coulda happened at home jest as well as here. The place has nothin’ to do with it, an’ I never want ya to feel any kind of guilt or responsibility thet the accident happened because I was here.”
“Well,” Missie said, lowering her eyes but seeming to brush aside Clark’s comment with her gesture, “I won’t feel guilt—I promise—but I still don’t understand your wanting to move on out. We’ve so enjoyed having you here. Before we know it, the winter will be over and you’ll be off home again. We want you here as much as possible. Tell them, Willie,” she implored her husband. But Willie merely continued eating his scrambled eggs and muffins.
“Tell them, Willie,” Missie instructed again.
Willie swallowed and looked from one to the other. It was apparent that he did not wish to be involved in the discussion. Clark spoke up before Willie was obliged any further.
“We know our son-in-law would never suggest we leave his home an’ his table, Missie. We really want to do this, not because we are not welcome here, but because we feel it would be good fer all of us. We’ll be right nearby and can come in fer coffee whenever we need a stroll. Yer ma will be over often to borrow cups of sugar and talk ‘womenfolk talk.’ The boys can come an’ visit us in the soddy.” Clark winked. “It could be jest a heap of fun. Marty an’ I have never lived all by ourselves, ya know.”