The Love Comes Softly Collection

by Janette Oke

  “Reckon he got it from the same place the boss an’ his pa-in-law got theirs. It seems to be made of the same stuff.”

  Jake thought of Willie and his steadiness—even through the tough times—his fairness with his men, and his concern for his community. He also thought of Clark and his acceptance of his handicap, and he murmured under his breath, “Yah, reckon it is.” Then he turned to Smith. “So, iffen they’s able to pass it on an’ are so anxious to share it, what’s stoppin’ ya from gittin’ yerself some?”

  Smith did not answer. He just scowled and rode away.

  When Christmastime arrived, Marty’s thoughts were often on her family at home, even as her thoughts had been on Missie during the Christmases they had been separated. Marty reminded herself that Kate was there to help Ellie make a Christmas for the family on the farm, and the last letter had stated that Nandry’s and Clae’s families would both be home for Christmas, as well. Soon after the new year, Joe and Clae and little Esther would be leaving for the city, where Joe would finally have the opportunity to get his seminary training. Marty wished she would be there to tell them good-bye, but it brought a certain joy to her heart to know they would be in the very city where Luke would eventually take his medical training. It would not be nearly so hard to let him go knowing that Clae and Joe would be there to welcome him.

  Even so, Marty thought much of her other family as she made her preparations for Christmas with the family in the West.

  Wong and Cookie combined their efforts to prepare a Christmas feast for all the members of the ranch family. It was bound to be a sumptuous affair, and everyone was anticipating the occasion. Marty supposed they would all eat more than they really needed, but somehow even that spoke of God’s abundant blessings to them, especially this Christmas.

  Nathan and Josiah had worked themselves up into a fever of excitement. Nathan knew of Christmases past and the thrill of receiving gifts. Josiah was too young to remember other Christmases, but he was willing to take his big brother’s word for what would happen.

  Marty had busily knitted mittens, socks, and scarves for the two boys, and Clark had been carefully fashioning a snow sled. “Shore enough,” he told Marty, “with all them hills around, there must be one that a sled would work good on.” Marty heartily agreed. Even though they would be many days’ journey away from the rest of their family, they were happy to spend this Christmas with Missie, Willie, and the boys.

  On Christmas Eve, Marty finished the last of her Christmas presents, and they packed up their gifts and themselves and went out into the starlit winter night for the short trip to Missie’s house. They had planned an evening of games, Christmas carols, and popcorn over the log fire. The gifts would be exchanged the next morning.

  Nathan answered their knock and squealed his delight at their arrival, and Josiah was just behind him to echo his joy.

  “Hi, Grandpa! Hi, Grandma! Come in. We’re havin’ Christmas,” shouted Nathan.

  “Ch’is’mas,” echoed Josiah and pulled them in by the hands.

  The evening was full of love and joy. They chatted and ate and played games and sang amid laughter and lighthearted banter. They shared their memories of other Christmases. Nathan loved the stories, but finally Josiah’s lids started to droop as he fought to stay awake.

  Finally Missie rose to put the two children to bed. Nathan certainly was not anxious to go, afraid that he might miss out on something. Missie assured him everything would be there for him to see and share in the morning.

  When the children were settled for the night and the grown-ups were having coffee and slices of Wong’s Christmas cake made from one of Marty’s recipes, Missie, her cheeks aglow and her eyes alight, shared her secret.

  “You are going to be grandparents again in July,” she said. “We’re going to have another little one.”

  “Oh, thet’s wonderful!” cried Marty, hugging her girl close. “But, my, I wish it would be sooner! We should be off home long ’fore then, an’ it will be so hard to leave without seein’ him—or her.”

  “I’m hoping for a girl this time,” admitted Missie. “But a boy would be all right, too. Willie’s always needing lots of cowboys on the ranch.” They laughed together, and Willie looked pleased.

  They talked further about their hopes and dreams concerning the new baby. Marty noted how thankful she was that Dr. de la Rosa would be there for the birthing. And perhaps by then he would also have his little medical office ready for use.

  Clark and Marty, arm in arm, returned over the snow-packed path back to the little soddy. They were just about to enter when Cookie appeared, hobbling hurriedly toward the bunkhouse from the cook shack, a small lantern swinging by his side. Marty assumed he must be going to meet with the cowboys for their own Christmas celebration, but Clark said there seemed to be an urgency to Cookie’s steps.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” he called to Cookie.

  Cookie hesitated. “No, nothin’ wrong, really. Least not fer you to concern yourselves with. Scottie jest came ridin’ in with some stray cowpoke he found out there on the range someplace. Fella’s in pretty bad shape. Looks like he ain’t et in a week, an’ the weather’s kinda on the cold side to be sittin’ out under a rock outcroppin’. Lane, he went over to see what the doc would advise fer his frostbite.”

  Cookie was about to move on, but Clark called to him, “I’ll join ya. Don’t s’pose there be much I can do, but I’ll take a look-see.”

  He turned to Marty and spoke softly, “Ya go on in out of this cold to bed. I’ll jest be a few minutes an’ then I’ll be in to join ya. Ya might want to check on the fire again ’fore ya turn in.”

  Then Clark deftly hopped along after Cookie, his crutch making strange tracks in the fresh snow.

  The cowboys had put the unfortunate man to bed, Lane directing them to his bunk before he left for the doctor’s. Smithie was using the only medicine he was acquainted with—a shot of whiskey. The man was sputtering and fussing, so Clark knew at least he was alive.

  “Where’d ya find ’im?”

  “Scottie found him someplace out there. Didn’t even have a horse. Said it had died. He was walkin’ somewhere—who knows where—an’ the bad weather caught him. He tried to hole up in a sheltered spot and wait out the wind. He coulda been there till spring and not had the wind stop none.”

  Clark smiled in spite of his concern. “Is he in bad shape?”

  “Don’t know yet. He has some frostbite fer sure, an’ he’s thin as a rattler. ’Bout as mean as one, too, I’m thinkin’. All he can do is cuss an’ name call. Don’t seem to ’preciate much the trouble Scottie took fer ’im.”

  Clark moved nearer to the bed.

  The man before him was heavily bearded and his eyes were only dark holes in his head. Bedraggled and dirty, he looked as though he hadn’t had a meal in weeks. Yet something about him was vaguely familiar.

  Clark motioned for them to move the lantern in closer, the result being a gruff complaint and a curse from the stranger. Clark looked steadily into the thin, shadowed face and finally was sure.

  “Jedd,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jedd Larson.”

  Seventeen

  Jedd

  The sick man stirred slightly and mumbled something incoherent. All other eyes in the room turned on Clark.

  “Ya know this man?” asked Scottie.

  “It’s Jedd Larson; there’s shore no mistakin’ thet. But he do look in bad shape. Last I seen ’im he was still young and strong—and a mite on the stubborn side. Marty an’ me raised his two girls—though it’s hard fer us to remember at times they ain’t really our own flesh and blood. We think of ’em as such.”

  “Well, I’ll be a—” exclaimed Cookie, though he was not allowed to finish his statement, for the ill man began to toss and call out in his delirium. Clark leaned over him in an effort to understand what the man was saying. He straightened as he caught the one word that was repeated over and over. Jedd was saying, “Tina.”


  “Understand ’im?” asked Cookie.

  “He’s askin’ fer his wife. She’s been gone fer a number of years now. Can’t say thet Jedd treated her too kindly whilst she was here. Maybe he’s regrettin’ it now.”

  Clark reached out a hand and felt Jedd’s brow, hot with fever. He leaned over the man again and spoke his name softly. There was no response. Clark knelt down beside the bed and took the man’s hand in his. He began to talk to Jedd. The cowboys gradually moved back from the bed to allow the two men a degree of privacy.

  “Jedd,” Clark said clearly, “Jedd, this is Clark. Clark Davis, yer neighbor. Remember me, Jedd? Clark Davis. Clark and Marty. Ya left yer girls with us, Jedd, when ya decided to go west. Tina wanted ’em to have schoolin’. Tina asked Marty to give the girls a chance, Jedd. Remember? They are fine girls, Jedd, yer Nandry an’ Clae. You’d be mighty proud of ’em. Both of ’em married. Nandry has a family of four. An’ Clae’s got a little girl. Yer a grandpa, Jedd. A grandpa five times over. You’d be proud of yer grandchildren, too, could ya see ’em.”

  The man was not responding. He stared off into space and now and then mumbled or cursed as the warmth of the room increased the pain in his frozen limbs. Clark continued to speak to him, rubbing his hand as he spoke, careful not to touch the frostbitten fingers.

  “Jedd, Nandry and Clae still worry ’bout ya. Still pray fer ya daily. They want ya back, Jedd. They want to share with ya their love, their family, their God. Remember, Jedd? Tina found peace with God before she died. Well, yer girls are servin’ their mother’s God, too, Jedd. There’s nothin’ they would like better than fer you to know God, too. Ya hear me, Jedd? Yer girls love ya. Nandry an’ Clae—they love ya. Tina loved ya, an’ God loves ya, too, Jedd.

  “Ya gotta keep holdin’ on,” Clark continued, speaking softly but with urgency. “Ya can’t jest go an’ give up now. Hang in there, Jedd.”

  There was hardly a pause in the low murmur of Clark’s voice until Lane and the doctor arrived. Dr. de la Rosa examined Jedd carefully and gave him some medication. He shook his head as he turned to Clark and the waiting ranch hands.

  “He is in bad shape. He was not well even before he was caught in the storm.”

  “Will he make it?” asked Clark.

  “I do not know.”

  “Please, Doc,” said Clark, “iffen there’s anything at all you can do fer ’im—anything to bring him through—I’ll stand the bill. This here is the father of two girls Marty an’ me raised as our own. He’s been bullheaded and stubborn, thoughtless and sometimes cruel, but his girls love ’im. If only Jedd can live long enough fer someone to tell ’im of God’s love an’ fergiveness. Thet would mean so much to his girls . . . to us. Ya think you can bring him round, Doc? I jest can’t bear the thought of ’im dyin’ without my bein’ able to talk with him ’bout his girls and ’bout God’s love for ’im.”

  Dr. de la Rosa looked very solemn. “I can only try,” he said. “You pray that God might work a miracle.”

  The doctor no doubt thought Clark would go to his little soddy and kneel in prayer, but Clark saw the need as imminent. He immediately knelt beside the bed on which Jedd lay and began to pray fervently for a miracle. Around him feet shuffled as cowboys, uncertain of what to do, shifted position. But Lane knew. He crossed to the bunk and knelt down beside Clark, joining him in his prayer.

  “Dear God,” began Clark, “you know this here man before us. He’s been sinful, God, but so have we all. He’s made some bad judgments, but so have we. He needs ya, Lord, just as we all do. He has never recognized you as God an’ Savior, an’ he needs thet chance, Lord. He can’t hear or respond in his present condition, so we need ya to do a miracle, Lord, an’ help the doc bring him round so we can talk with him and read yer Word so he might have the chance to decide fer himself. We are askin’ this, Lord, in the name of Jesus, yer Son, who died so each one of us—includin’ Jedd here—could have life eternal. Thank ya, Lord, for hearin’ the prayer of those of us who bow before ya. Amen.”

  Clark stood up, adjusting his crutch to support himself. The man before him still lay unconscious.

  Lane reached out and touched the whiskered cheek. Then he turned to the doctor. “What’s next, Doc?”

  Juan looked back at the man on the bed. “I think I should take him to my home. I can put him on the cot in the office.”

  All eyes looked at the doctor, questioning.

  The doctor continued. “He is going to need much care. We can watch him there. It will make my mother feel needed. She wishes to do something for someone, and this will be her chance. If I am able to help this man . . .” Juan hesitated, then continued. “I think it is too late to save many of his fingers and toes. Perhaps he will lose them all.”

  It was sobering news. Clark noticed some of the hands in the room unconsciously curl up into fists, as though defying fate to try to take their own.

  Lane moved first. “Ya want me to git a team?” he asked the doctor.

  “Yes. Put lots of hay in the bottom of a wagon. We’ll need to make him a bed.”

  For the second time that Christmas Eve, Lane made the trip to the doctor’s, this time driving the team that carried a critically ill man. His saddle horse tied to the rear, Dr. de la Rosa rode in the wagon with them, watching Jedd to be sure he stayed well covered in the bitter winter wind.

  Clark returned to the little soddy and found that Marty had not gone to bed.

  “I’ve been frettin’ an’ thinkin’ all kinds of things,” she said.

  “You’ll never believe this,” said Clark, “but maybe you should sit down fer this. Thet man Scottie brought in off the range is Jedd Larson.”

  “Jedd?”

  “Shore ain’t in very good shape.”

  “Oh, Clark. Did ya tell ’im ’bout his girls? Did he say—?”

  “Jedd didn’t say much ’ceptin’ a few cuss words, Marty. He is plumb outta his head. No, thet’s not right. He did say one thing. Over an’ over. He said ‘Tina.’”

  “Tina . . . then he remembers.”

  “Somehow thet one name gave me hope, Marty. Somehow it helped me to believe this wasn’t jest fate thet sent Jedd this way, but God givin’ him a chance to find Him.”

  “Oh, Clark, I pray it might be so,” said Marty, tears filling her eyes.

  “If only I could have talked to him—made him understand me somehow.”

  “Can I see ’im?” asked Marty.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone? But how could—”

  “Lane went fer Dr. de la Rosa, an’ the doc decided when he checked Jedd out it would be better fer ’im to have Jedd at his house so he could watch over ’im. Lane took ’im on over in the wagon. They left jest a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, Clark. I hope he makes it. I hope ya have a chance to talk to him. Was he really bad, Clark?”

  Clark nodded his head solemnly.

  “Oh, Clark!” cried Marty again. “Let’s pray.” The two knelt beside the bed and prayed long and fervently for this one from the past with such strong ties to their family.

  “Please, Lord, bring him round enough to understand ya love him in spite of what he’s done to his wife, to his girls,” Marty prayed. “Help us know how to show him thet love.”

  In spite of their shock and anxiety over Jedd, Christmas Day was a time of thanksgiving and joy. With two small boys in the house, it was impossible not to feel the excitement and pleasure of this celebration of Jesus’ birth. Even though they had retired late the night before and had had difficulty getting to sleep, Clark and Marty were up early and over in the big house. Nathan and Josiah were already up and filling the house with cries of happiness as they looked at the gifts under the tree that had arrived sometime during the night. They did not seem very interested in their breakfast that morning.

  Nathan was thrilled with the sled that Clark had made and begged to go out and try it even before he had eaten. Clark laughed and promised the boys he would take them out on th
e sled just as soon as their mother approved. Missie, smiling, shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  Nathan’s favorite gift from his parents was a new halter for Spider, his pony. Willie finally gave in to his pleadings and told him they would go to the barn and make sure the halter fit. Nathan soon reappeared, bundled to his eyebrows with Marty’s gift of socks, mittens, and carelessly looped scarf. Willie laughed at the sight.

  “Ya shore enough look well cared fer weatherwise, ’cept fer yer feet. Ain’t ya plannin’ to wear any boots?”

  “They won’t go over my big socks,” replied Nathan, which brought more laughs.

  Josiah soon rounded the corner, too. Still in his nightclothes, he also had looped his long scarf over it all. One eye was hidden and he peeked out from the other one, his head tipped to give him better vision. His mittens had been pulled onto the wrong hands, and the empty thumbs stuck out to the sides like two misplaced horns. The socks, partly on but mostly off, gave Josiah the appearance of duck feet. He waddled forward, pleased with himself and ready to join his brother and pa for the trip to the barn.

  Now Willie really laughed. He led the two boys back to their room, properly dressed Josiah and helped Nathan to find socks and boots that worked together. Then, with the small Josiah on his pa’s shoulders and Nathan trudging along at his side with the cherished new halter, Clark joined them and they all started out for the barn.

  “They do make some sight, don’t they?” said Missie at the window, her voice full of emotion.

  “Don’t know how many times I’ve stood at my window an’ watched yer pa an’ his sons crossin’ the yard,” Marty responded. “If I had no other reason to love yer pa than thet single one—the seein’ of his care fer his young’uns—it would be enough to make me love him as long as God grants me breath,” she continued softly.

  They turned back to the preparations for the day. There was much to be done, for Christmas dinner for all of the hands had become a tradition on the LaHaye ranch. Though usually busy and going many different directions, on Christmas Day they took the time to all eat together and hear the reading of the Christmas story.