by Janette Oke
“He doesn’t have a name yet,” she told him. “Thought of one?”
“How ’bout iffen you name ’im?” asked Lane.
“Me? He’s yer dog.”
“I’d still like yer name fer ’im,” Lane said, looking steadily at her. Ellie stopped stroking the puppy and stepped back.
“I dunno,” she said. “I haven’t really been thinkin’ on it.”
“What would you have called ’im iffen ya coulda kept ’im? I bet ya had a name all picked out.”
Ellie’s smile admitted that she had.
“C’mon,” said Lane. “Out with it.”
“Don’t s’pose you’d want my silly name none. It’s not a very sensible name fer a man’s dog.”
“Why? What’s a sensible name fer a man’s dog?”
“Oh, Butch. Or Pooch. Or Ol’ Bob. We used to name our dogs Ol’ Bob. We had one Ol’ Bob, and when we got a new puppy, Arnie named it Ol’ Bob, too. Mama told me ’bout it.”
“Don’t think I care fer Ol’ Bob,” said Lane. “Or Butch or Pooch, either. This here’s a special dog. He should have a special name.”
He looked at her, coaxing her to share the name that she had picked for his dog. She still hesitated.
“C’mon,” he said again.
“You’d laugh.”
“Never!”
Ellie began to laugh softly. “Well, ya might not laugh, ya bein’ so polite, but ya sure would want to.”
“A good laugh is good fer a body,” replied Lane, and Ellie’s laughter sounded like she agreed.
“Okay,” she said. “An’ have a laugh iffen ya want to. I woulda called ’im Romeo.”
“Romeo?” and Lane did laugh.
Ellie joined in. When they had finished chuckling over the name, Ellie said more seriously, “Why don’t we just call ’im Rex?”
“Rex. I kinda like thet. Though it sure be a comedown from Romeo.”
They laughed again.
“Promise ya won’t tease?” asked Ellie.
“Tease?”
“’Bout Romeo.”
“Promise,” said Lane. “I might even call ’im thet myself—once or twice—in private.” And he put the puppy back down beside his mother.
Ellie picked up the pan and turned to go, but Lane stopped her.
In response to the question in her eyes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package.
“I wondered when I would git to give ya this,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to put it under the tree with the others. It’s my Christmas gift to you.”
Still Ellie said nothing. He passed it to her and she took it, looking down at it with confusion in her face.
“Open it,” prompted Lane, and Ellie’s trembling fingers began to do his bidding.
As she lifted up the delicate locket, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Lane, it’s beautiful,” she whispered, and then the tears did spill. “But I can’t take it.”
It was Lane’s turn to be bewildered. “Ya mean . . . what I was hopin’ . . . was dreamin’ . . . I didn’t see a’tall?”
Ellie just stood mute, the tears continuing to fall and the fingers gently caressing the locket.
“Ya don’t care fer me?” asked Lane.
“I never said . . .” sobbed Ellie.
“Then there’s someone else.”
“No,” said Ellie emphatically.
“Then I don’t understand—”
“It’s Mama. She needs me.”
“I know,” said Lane gently, reaching out to take her hands. “I’ll wait. I’m not meanin’ to take ya away now. It won’t be long—”
“But ya don’t understand!” cried Ellie. “It would near kill Mama. She misses Clae and Missie so. It would break her heart iffen another of her girls were to move so far away. Can’t ya see . . . ?”
“But surely—”
“No,” said Ellie, shaking her head again. “I just couldn’t do it to Mama. I wouldn’t.” And she pushed the locket back into Lane’s hand and ran from the barn, leaving her pan behind her.
Lane felt a sickness sweep all through him. He loved her. Until that moment of losing her, he had not realized how deeply. He looked at the locket lying in his open hand and longed for the comfort of tears. He did not allow them. Instead he sank down upon the straw and reached for the small dog. He pressed his face against the soft fur and remembered how Ellie had looked with her face against the puppy.
“Oh, Romeo,” he groaned. “I just don’t know how I’ll live without her. Yer a mighty poor substitute, I’m a thinkin’.”
It was a long time before Lane felt composed enough to return to the house.
Arnie’s wedding day turned out not to be a fair day weatherwise. The wind was blowing and light snow was swirling as Clark tucked the blanket securely around Marty in the sleigh and headed for the church. All of the others had gone on before, and Marty fretted over last-minute concerns.
“Ellie has everythin’ under control,” Clark reminded her. “Ya needn’t worry yerself none. The weddin’ dinner will happen all proper like.”
Marty knew that was true. She had worked on the dinner preparations in the kitchen with Ellie as much as her family would allow her, and then her physician-to-be son had gently but firmly shooed her to bed.
“You’ve been on your feet long enough,” Luke insisted. “I’ll help Ellie with whatever she needs.”
And now the rest of the family were all at the church making the final wedding arrangements and waiting for the preacher to give the signal that the long-awaited hour had come.
Clark let the horses pick their own pace. Because they hated the cold and were in a hurry to get the journey over, they trotted briskly, Marty noted with some relief as she held the blanket up to her cheeks to prevent frostbite.
Other teams belonging to family and friends stood waiting in the churchyard when Clark swung his team in close to the steps and helped Marty alight. Luke was there to assist her in and hang up her coat. She was then seated in a spot reserved for the mother of the groom and had only moments to wait until Clark joined her.
The wedding party began to take their places in the front. Marty had never seen Arnie looking happier nor Anne more radiant. Ellie seemed a bit pale and strained, and Marty chided herself. The girl had been working much too hard. She must see that Ellie got a good rest when all of this excitement was over.
It was a beautiful ceremony. The young pastor was able to give it the proper dignity and warmth of feeling that a wedding service should have. Before a caring congregation, the young couple exchanged their vows, looking at each other with expressions that said they meant deeply everything they promised.
Marty swallowed hard and blinked back her tears. Another of their children was establishing a home of his own. Soon there would be none of them left to share the big house that Clark had built for his family. And then a little jab under her ribs reminded Marty that it would be a while yet before the house would be empty, and she smiled through her tears and reached down a hand to touch the spot where her unborn child was making its presence known.
Fifteen
Back to Routine
Luke now had to board the stage once again and return to school. Marty sighed deeply at the thought of seeing him go, but somehow it seemed easier this time than before.
The household settled back into its routine. Arnie and his new bride took up residence in the little home that he had been so industriously preparing for them. The day Arnie had walked out the door carrying the last of his belongings from his lifelong homestead was very hard for Marty, but the broad smile on his face made her realize the truth: that all was as it should be when Arnie was looking forward to starting out on a life of his own. The thought gave her a measure of peace.
How glad she was to have Ellie as she watched Luke and Arnie leave the home. What a comfort to have at least one of her children still with her. Then Marty looked carefully at Ellie, and her eyes told her that something was
not quite right. Ellie still looked pale and overtired. She had been working far too hard, with all the family at home for Christmas and then the added burden of preparing for Arnie’s wedding, as well. Marty decided that what Ellie needed was to get away from the kitchen for a while. She had heard some of the neighborhood young people talking about a skating party on Miller’s pond. That was what Ellie needed. A chance to be out having fun with young people of her own age.
Marty tucked the information away in her mind, with the intention of doing something about it at her first opportunity. Marty was not concerned about who would take Ellie to the skating party. True, the girl no longer had big brothers in the house to escort her to such activities, but that would be no problem. Lane would be happy to take over that role. He was such a nice young man, and he and Ellie seemed to get along just fine. Though she would miss her brothers, Lane would be good company and sort of an “adopted” big brother.
Marty smiled as she concluded these thoughts. She tucked the small sweater that was taking form under her quick needles back into her knitting basket and went to the kitchen. She had heard the dog bark, and that must mean the men were back from the woods. This was their first day back on the job since Arnie’s wedding. She hoped Arnie would stop for a brief chat before he went to his new home and waiting bride.
Ellie was busy at the big stove, stirring a pot of wonderfully fragrant stew. Fresh biscuits sat in a pan at the back of the stove, smelling as good as they looked. Marty noticed the table. It was set for four. For a moment, Marty thought Ellie had forgotten that Arnie would no longer be eating with them, and then she remembered Lane. Of course—Lane always ate with them after he spent a day in the woods. It had been a while since the men had all gone out together, and she had forgotten. She smiled again, thinking this would be a good chance for her to tell Lane about the skating party.
Marty was disappointed when Clark came in saying Arnie had been in such a hurry to get home to his Anne that he had sent his mother greetings and excused himself from coming in. He’d see her sometime soon, he promised, and told Clark to give her his love.
Lane did come in, but he seemed edgy somehow. This was the first they had seen him since Arnie’s wedding, and Marty had been all prepared for a good chat. Lane, though he politely answered all the questions that were put to him, just didn’t seem much in the mood for chatting. Ellie didn’t seem to be too talkative, either. Perhaps they were both weary after the rush and busyness of Christmas, Marty concluded. Well, things should slow down now.
Lane had been nervous about appearing as usual at the Davis table. He had not really seen Ellie since Christmas Day, except for a few brief glimpses of her on the day of Arnie’s wedding. She had been so busy then that there was no opportunity at all for him to speak with her. Lane felt it was important for them to get a chance to have a real talk. He couldn’t leave things as they were when he had presented his Christmas gift to her.
Some way he had to make her understand he would never take her from her mother while Marty needed her but would wait as long as was necessary if Ellie would just give the word. But what had Ellie said in her rush of tears? It would kill Mama iffen another of her family was to move so far away. Did Ellie really mean that? Would it really be that hard on Marty? Lane had to know. He needed a chance to talk things out. That is, if Ellie cared—if she cared at all about him. Could he have been so wrong? Maybe Ellie didn’t even—
Lane’s thoughts were interrupted by Marty’s words. She was asking how the logging was going. Lane answered her. He hoped that what he said in response sounded sensible. He stole a glance at Ellie. She seemed perfectly unaware that he sat across the table from her. She was completely absorbed in cutting a piece of meat into a smaller portion before serving herself.
“Ellie tells me you’ve laid claim on thet last pup,” Clark stated.
Lane looked back to Clark and fumbled some with his fork. “Right,” he finally was able to answer. “I always wanted a dog of my own an’ never had me a chance.”
“Think ya picked a good one,” Clark continued. “Those be awful good stock dogs, an’ I think thet pup be the pick of the litter. A little trainin’ an’ he should be ’bout able to read yer mind where stock are concerned.”
Lane could feel his face get warm. What was a cowman to do with a trained stock dog? Sure wouldn’t use one to be rounding up the herd. No one seemed to notice, and Lane shuffled his feet some and cleared his throat.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “He does look smart, all right.”
It was time for Ellie to serve the apple pie. Though Lane’s favorite dessert, somehow he had no appetite for it tonight. He did manage to swallow it, washing it down with his second cup of coffee. He stole another glance at Ellie. She still looked cool and aloof.
Clark was pushing back his chair.
“Care fer a game of checkers?”
Lane gathered his scattered wits. “No . . . no . . . I think not. Not tonight. I need to git me on home—”
“The chores are all done,” Clark reminded him. “I been over and took care of everythin’. No need fer ya to—”
But Lane was standing to his feet and excusing himself. “Thanks,” he said, “but I think I’d better git on home just the same. Christmas has a way of wearin’ one out, an’ it’s a little hard to git back to work again afterward. Think I’ll just go on home an’ catch up a bit.”
Lane was glad Clark did not argue further as he thanked them all again for the supper and the evening and turned toward his coat hanging on the peg.
“Speakin’ of Christmas wearin’ one out,” Marty said, moving closer to address herself to Lane as he shrugged into his coat, “I been noticin’ thet Ellie needs a bit of a change from all her hard work, too, an’ I overheard some of the young folks talkin’, an’ they said this Saturday they’re gonna have ’em a skatin’ party on Miller’s pond. Ellie knows where thet be, iffen you’d be so kind as to drive her on over.”
Ellie was pouring hot water into the sink, her back to them.
“I’d be most happy to,” Lane answered evenly.
Marty began to smile.
“No,” Ellie said sharply without turning. “No.”
Marty swung around toward her, a look of concern replacing the smile.
“No,” said Ellie again. “I’m not goin’.”
“What d’ya mean?” asked Marty, confusion in her tone. “Ya need to git out with the young people more. Why, ya hardly had a chance—”
But Ellie cut in with, “Mama, do you know just how young those young people are? Why, I wouldn’t even fit in! All the young girls my age are married an’ busy keepin’ house. Those young people . . . they . . . they’re just kids. I don’t belong with ’em now, an’ besides . . . I don’t want to go . . . really I . . .” Ellie turned away. “Let’s just ferget it, can we?”
Marty looked dumbfounded. She turned back to Lane with a helpless look and a shrug of her shoulders.
“Guess it won’t be necessary,” she said in a low voice, putting her hand on Lane’s arm. “Thanks anyway, though.”
Marty turned to the cupboard. “Here,” she said. “Take ya home one of these fresh loaves of Ellie’s bread.” She hastened to wrap a loaf and hand it to Lane.
Lane took one last lingering look at Ellie. Her head was bent over the dishpan. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he wondered if it was a tear that lay upon her cheek. He muttered a good-night to all of them and went out the door.
Clark followed Lane to the barn to get his horse. The young man had declared it unnecessary, but Clark insisted. He wanted to check the barn doors anyway, he declared.
As Lane went to mount his horse, he turned to Clark. “Been thinkin’,” he said. “S’pose it’s time fer me to do my own chorin’. Willie sent me on out here to be takin’ care of things, an’ I feel a bit guilty not doin’ it myself. Tell the boys I’ll just meet ’em in the mornin’. A bit closer fer me iffen I go straight on over from the LaHaye farm. And then iffen I go
right on home at night, I’ll have plenty of time to do my own chores.”
Clark knew this time that Lane had made up his mind to care for the LaHaye chores himself. He didn’t know what it was that had made the younger man decide as he had, but Clark put it aside as none of his business. He was sure Lane had a good reason, whatever it was. No mention was made of the meal that was always waiting at the Davis household.
“Sure,” Clark said, “iffen thet’s what ya want. Come anytime ya can. We’re always most happy to have ya.”
Lane said his good-night and urged his horse forward.
Clark returned to the warmth of the kitchen. Ellie was busy scrubbing at an awkward pan, and Marty was placing dried, clean dishes on the cupboard shelf.
Clark leaned his crutch against the wall and steadied himself on his one foot while he pulled out of his heavy coat.
“Lane won’t be here fer breakfast tomorra,” he said to the two women.
Two heads came up and two pairs of eyes held his. Only Marty voiced a question.
“Why?” she said simply. “What might keep Lane from breakfasting with us?”
“He thinks he should care fer the LaHaye chores hisself.”
“Maybe,” said Marty in a puzzled tone, “though I really don’t think it matters much to Willie as long as they’re taken care of.” Marty paused long enough to place some cups on hangers. “Maybe he’s not feelin’ well,” she wondered. “I noticed he didn’t eat well tonight. Perhaps a few days off from cuttin’ will do ’im good.”
“Oh, he’s still cuttin’,” Clark explained. “He’s just goin’ straight from the LaHaye farm, thet’s all.”
Marty looked at him, her eyes holding more questions. Then she turned back to the cupboard. “Well, we’ll see ’im tomorrow night. Maybe he’ll—”
“’Fraid not,” Clark said. “He told me he would be goin’ straight home from the cuttin’ from now on, so he won’t be takin’ supper with us anymore.”
Marty put down the plates she was holding and placed her hand on her hip, her frown deepening. “I wonder—” she began, but Clark stopped her.