by Janette Oke
After the service had ended, Clark invited Henry to speak to the congregation. It was commonly known that when Clark left, Henry would take up the reins of leadership.
With emotion in his voice, Henry expressed his thanks to Clark and Marty for their guidance and encouragement over the months they had been with them, the congregation echoing his appreciation with amens and yeses. Then Clark and Marty, taken completely by surprise, were guests of honor as the whole fellowship gathered around to give them a farewell celebration. Food was spread out on makeshift tables, and the women served the group, then joined the men and children digging in with relish.
Underlying the festivities and laughter was a feeling of sadness since in just two days the Davises would be leaving them. Clark and Marty appreciated each one who came with a special thank-you shining in his or her eyes and warm handshakes and embraces. They were special, these people. They were special because they were Christian brothers and sisters. Clark and Marty were sure they would miss them—not family by blood but by adoption into the family of God.
Twenty
Homeward Bound
When Tuesday morning arrived, Marty was packed and ready to go. As Willie brought the team around and Missie prepared her sons for the trip to town, Clark went to say a last farewell to the ranch hands, and Marty slipped out of the house and made one last trip to the little soddy. She was not as nostalgic about it for her own sake as for Missie’s. Marty had spent a winter in the soddy by choice. Missie had made it a home because it was all that was available to her.
Marty stood and gazed around the little room once again. In her fancy she could see Missie as a very young bride bending over the tiny stove with its cow-chip fire, preparing the evening meal. In the cradle at the end of the bed would rest their tiny baby, Nathan. Willie would return from his long, hard day of herding cattle to be greeted with love and concern and a simple meal.
Marty could picture, too, the growing Nathan, the Christmas gathering of ranch hands, the visits with new neighbors. Marty would cherish her own mental images of the little soddy. Her own time spent there helped her to more clearly picture Missie in it.
Yes, she and Clark had been happy in the soddy, too. Those long evenings as she sat sewing and Clark pored over his Bible, sharing with her special truths as he found them and inviting her thoughts on particular verses—these were memories to treasure. Perhaps it would be many weeks before she and Clark would have so many hours of each day to cherish as their own without interruption from the daily demands of farm and family.
Marty slowly retraced her steps to the house—Missie’s beautiful home. Marty had never seen a home that was more comfortable or more tastefully furnished. She was proud of Missie and her homemaking abilities.
Marty rounded the corner to find they were loading the wagon. She stepped forward to take her place. All the ranch hands who were not on duty were there to shake her hand, and Marty spoke to each of them. Cookie was the last in the line.
The old ranch cook stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
“Cookie,” said Marty, emotion choking her voice, “we are so thankful to God fer yer choosin’ to follow Him. Yer jest special to us in so many ways.”
Cookie changed his mind and gave Marty an affectionate hug instead.
Lane moved forward and took Clark’s hand. He said nothing, but his eyes said what he could not put into words.
Just as the wagon was about to move out of the yard, Wong came running, waving a bundle in his hands. Some fresh doughnuts, a treat for the trip, he said. Marty and Clark thanked him warmly, and he beamed as he bobbed his head.
“Much thanks,” he said. “Much thanks for special joy you brought this house and to Wong’s kitchen. Come again, maybe?”
The wagon pulled away amid hat waving and calls, and then they were on their way.
Marty’s view was blurred with tears as she looked back from the hillside where she’d had her first look at Missie’s home. So much had happened there to endear so many people to her heart.
Josiah climbed on her lap, and she held him close all the way to town. Nathan chattered excitedly, voicing his perspective that Grandma and Grandpa were privileged indeed to be passengers on a real moving train.
“An’ someday I’m gonna come all the way on the train to the farm an’ see ya,” he promised fervently.
And Josiah echoed, “See ya.”
“Yeah,” said Nathan, “me and Joey. We’ll come an’ see ya.”
“That would be most wonderful,” said Marty and held her Joey even closer.
When they reached the town, Clark checked their trunk through, and they gathered their hand baggage and went to get a cup of coffee while they waited for the train.
It was hard to know what should be said in their last few minutes together. It seemed like there was still so much left to be said, in spite of the fact they had spent all these months talking.
They filled the time with small talk and reminders of messages for each one of the family on the farm.
It was nearly time to get back to the station when Scottie appeared.
“I wasn’t able to see ya off at the house,” he said, extending his hand to Clark, “but I shore didn’t want to miss sayin’ good-bye. Guess I needn’t say thet we’re gonna miss ya round the spread. S’pose now I’ll have to mend my own halters and clean my own barns.”
Clark smiled. He didn’t feel he had helped Scottie out that much, but he knew what he had done had been appreciated. He shook Scottie’s hand firmly. “Ya’ll always have a warm spot in our hearts an’ prayers,” he told the ranch foreman, and Scottie smiled.
They walked slowly to the train station. Already the train was sending up great puffs of smoke as the firebox was filled in preparation for the departure. Long cars were filled with bawling steers, and Marty knew they would share the ride with many cattle heading for market. She wondered if some of Willie’s herd might even be on board.
It was time for the last tearful good-bye.
“Pa,” said Missie, her voice choked, “do you think you could ship out some apple cuttings by train? I’ve been missing those trees an awful lot.”
Clark was thoughtful, not sure that apple trees would grow in the area, but he nodded his head. “Why not?” he said. “It’s shore worth a try. Ya can plant them down by yer spring an’ make sure they git plenty of water. Might not produce too much fruit, but ya might git enough fer a pie or two.”
Missie laughed through her tears. “Truth is,” she stated, “I won’t even care too much if I don’t get fruit. It’s the blossoms I miss the most. It seems to me they promise spring, and love, and happiness every time they appear.”
Clark gave his daughter a long understanding hug.
They all embraced one last time and told one another again how much the visit had meant to each of them. Marty and Clark held their two grandsons for as long as they dared, and then the “all aboard” was called and they waved one last time and climbed onto the train.
Marty waved until the train turned a curve and the town and her family were left behind. She wiped her tears on her handkerchief and resolved that she would cry no more.
The traveling days moved by, measured by the rhythms of the steel wheels. Each revolution took them farther away from Willie and Missie but closer to the other members of their family.
Marty didn’t find the return trip quite so difficult, nor so uncomfortably warm. Maybe now she knew what to expect and set her mind accordingly.
There were a few stops at small towns here and there—some taking far too long—but then they traveled on again, day and night. On the third day, they pulled into the town where they had switched trains on their westward journey. Again it meant an overnight stay. Clark and Marty both remembered the dirty little hotel and its bedbugs.
“Surely we can do better than thet,” Clark assured Marty and made some discreet inquiries. They were pointed to the home of an elderly lady who, they were told, kept roomers on occasion. F
ortunately, the woman had a vacancy and accepted them as overnight guests.
By the time they made their way back to the station the next morning, shoppers were beginning to appear on the streets. The town was again awakening as it had done the year before.
When they reached the train station, Clark held the door for Marty and she passed through and headed for some seats near the window. She would sit and wait while Clark checked out the departure time.
Clark walked closely behind her to settle the luggage he carried down beside her before going over to the ticket counter. Other passengers milled about the room.
Marty heard the loud voice of a youngster. “Ma, look—look at thet poor man.”
Marty’s head came up slowly and she looked around, wondering who the unfortunate person might be. She spotted no one who fit the description.
“Ya lookin’ fer the man?”
At the sound of Clark’s voice, Marty flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring about out of curiosity. Her eyes admitted to Clark that she had indeed been looking for “the poor man.”
Clark was quick to ease her guilt. “I was, too,” he confessed. “Did ya spot ’im?”
Marty shook her head.
“Me neither,” said Clark and then began to chuckle.
Marty looked at him in surprise.
“Thet is,” went on Clark, “till I looked at myself.”
“Yerself?”
Clark chuckled again.
“He was talkin’ ’bout me, Marty.”
“You?”
Then Marty’s gaze fell to the pinned-up empty pant leg and the crutch in Clark’s hand. Her breath caught in a little gasp. It was true. The boy was speaking of Clark—and “the poor man” was chuckling!
Then Marty saw it—the humor of it, the glory of it. They both had completely forgotten that Clark was considered handicapped—“the poor man.” They reached for each other and laughed together till tears of joy ran freely down their faces.
Love’s Unending Legacy
Contents
Dedication
1. Homecoming
2. Catching Up
3. Taking Stock
4. Happenings
5. Confessions
6. Announcement
7. Planning
8. A Visit With Ma
9. Ben
10. Good News
11. Ma Graham
12. Lane Helps Out
13. Marty Makes a Date
14. Christmas
15. Back to Routine
16. Secrets
17. Letters
18. A Talk With Ellie
19. Dark Shadows
20. Nandry
21. Lane Comes for Supper
22. Ma Comes Calling
23. Ellie Makes Plans
24. Church and Home
25. Sharing
26. Family Dinner
27. Surprise
28. Plans
29. The Legacy
Dedicated with love
to my third sister, Amy June Wilson,
who, because of her gentle
disposition, made it possible for
me to have one sister with whom I didn’t fight as a kid.
We have shared many good times—
often with the help of the old pump organ.
And to my talented brother-in-law,
John F. Wilson
One
Homecoming
Marty’s trembling hand pushed back a wisp of wayward hair from her warm, moist face as she peered once more out the window. Why was she shaking so? Was it because they had been bouncing hour after long hour in the seemingly slow-moving stagecoach, or was it her intense excitement at the prospect of once again being home? Marty made an effort to still her hand—and the tumult within her. Her slight movement must have caught Clark’s eye. Though busy talking with a fellow passenger about the need for rain, he reached for Marty’s hand, and she felt the pressure of his fingers, his unspoken message that he understood—not only her weariness, but her impatient longing to be home again, as well. She returned the squeeze, assuring him that she was all right in spite of her overwhelming desire for the trip to end. Clark gave her a quiet smile, then turned again to the man who was speaking. Marty leaned forward for the umpteenth time to get a better look out the small stagecoach window.
They were in familiar territory now. Marty recognized the landmarks, but they only served to make her more distressed with their slow progress. Oh, how she pined to be home again—to see the dear children whom she had not seen for so many months! Though her body was physically exhausted, her eagerness to come to the end of this journey had her sitting on the edge of her seat—every nerve and muscle vibrating with her concentrated energy. Home! I want to get home! She clutched at the door handle as the coach lurched through another pothole.
Clark turned from his conversation with the black-suited gentleman and gave her another understanding smile. “Won’t be long now,” he assured her, looking over her shoulder at the landscape. “Thet’s Anderson’s Corner just up ahead.”
Marty knew he was right. Still, she told herself, it would seem forever before the stagecoach finally pulled to a dusty stop outside their local livery. She wondered if she would be able to keep herself in check for these last endless miles. In an effort to do so, she set her thoughts to imagining what lay ahead. Who would be there to meet them? Would firstborn Clare be the one driving the family team? Would he have his Kate with him? Or would it be Arnie who would be waiting for them? Would their youngest, Luke, be along?
Marty’s thoughts switched to her home. Would it seem strange to her when she walked through the door? Would she feel she was entering the abode of someone else, or would she still have the delightful sense of fully belonging there? Would Ellie have supper waiting, impatient with the fact that the stagecoach was almost an hour overdue and things would be overcooked as the dishes waited on the back of the large, homey kitchen stove?
Marty thought of the farmyard, the garden, her chickens clucking about the pen, the spring, and the woods. She could hardly wait to see them all again. Here I am, a grown woman, actin’ like Lukey when he was a little shaver waitin’ for an egg to hatch. She smiled to herself.
She stretched her legs in an effort to relieve some of the stiffness from the long ride. Her glance fell on Clark’s one booted foot placed firmly on the floor, and she knew his long leg must be even more cramped than her short ones. She did not look at the other side, the pinned-up leg of his trousers. At least that one isn’t complainin’ about more room! Clark had showed her how to treat his handicap lightly. But it must ache, too, after this long period of forced inactivity, she reasoned and wondered if Clark was suffering any pain with the shortened limb.
Clark must have seen her glance and read her question. He shifted his position and spoke to her. “Really takin’ this jostlin’ fairly well,” he said, patting his thigh. “It will be as glad as the rest of me to be out of this rockin’ stage, though. Seems we been shut in here ’most a lifetime.”
Marty nodded and tried another smile in spite of the fact that she was hot and dusty and longed to be out in some clean, fresh air. Even the switch to the old farm wagon for those last few miles would be a welcome one.
Marty leaned for another look out the window and discovered they had covered some good distance since her last check. Right up ahead lay the last bend in the road before the small community they called their town would come into view. A quiver of excitement passed all through her—oh, to be home again! During the long trip home by train and stage, she realized just how much she had missed it—had missed all of them.
Her thoughts returned to Missie and Willie, Nathan and Josiah. How wonderful it had been to spend the time with them. She had learned to love and appreciate the West along with Willie’s ranch and the men who lived and worked on it. She wondered how Cookie was doing. Was he progressing in his newly discovered faith? She remembered Wong and his last-minute gift of bak
ing for their train trip home. And there was Scottie, the kind and patient man who needed to allow God to work in his life. She thought of the bitter Smith and hoped that it wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part that the man’s attitude was beginning to soften. Perhaps one day he would even venture to attend the Sunday services in the new church. Marty’s thought of the new church brought all sorts of memories of the many people with whom they had worshiped and grown to love as neighbors and friends. How was Henry doing as he led the little flock in Bible study? Were the Crofts still coming faithfully, and had they found the peace that Mrs. Croft especially had so longingly searched for? Did Juan and Maria . . . ? And then the stagecoach driver was yelling “whoa” to his horses, and the stage was sliding to a halt in a whirl of dust.
Marty’s whole insides leaped with such eagerness she felt dizzy with the intensity. Clark’s hand was supporting her as she struggled to her feet. Which of the family will be here? How long will it be until we see the others? What if they didn’t get the message of our coming and no one is here to meet the stage? How can I ever bear the extra hours until we can find some way home? Her thoughts clamored for answers. Dared she look beyond the stagecoach door?
Momentarily she shut her eyes and steadied her jangled nerves with a little prayer. Clark’s firm grip on her arm calmed her. She took a deep breath and sat back down to allow the other passengers to leave the coach ahead of her, then waited for Clark to step down so he might help her as she left the coach, now finally stationary. She felt as if she were still moving—swaying slightly with the roll of the stage. Marty steadied herself, reaching for Clark’s outstretched hand, and stepped down as gracefully and calmly as she could. And then the air around her seemed to explode in cries and blurred movement as family members swept toward her. Marty was passed from one pair of arms to another, crying and laughing as she held each one close. They were all there. Clare and his Kate; Arnie, Ellie, and Luke; Josh and Nandry and the children. Only Joe and Clae were missing—missing because they were still in the East, with little Esther Sue, where Joe was finishing up his seminary training.