by Janette Oke
“Mama,” Kate stopped her. “Do you think Ellie an’ Lane . . . well, thet they had a sweethearts’ quarrel?”
“A sweethearts’ quarrel,” said Marty in bewilderment. “Land sakes, they ain’t sweethearts. They’re more like brother an’ sister.”
Kate looked unconvinced. “Did you ever say that to Ellie?”
“Say what?”
“Thet they were . . . sorta . . . brother an’ sister?”
Marty thought back. “Well, somethin’ like thet, I suppose,” she admitted at length.
“An’ what did Ellie say?”
“She said thet . . . she said she didn’t want Lane fer a brother,” Marty said as she recalled the incident. She hesitated, then began to frown. “Now, why would she say a thing like thet?” she asked Kate.
“It fits, doesn’t it?” Kate asked at last. “It sounds to me like Lane an’ Ellie had ’em a disagreement.”
“I wonder . . . ? I never had me any idea they might have thet kind of interest in each other.”
Marty stirred her cup of tea around and around as she thought back over a number of things that had puzzled her. Kate might just be right. Things were beginning to fit.
“When I think on it,” Marty admitted slowly, “they would be well suited to each other. I couldn’t wish anyone finer than Lane fer my Ellie. He’s the most sensitive, carin’ young man I have ever met.”
Marty absentmindedly continued stirring. “I wonder what happened,” she mused out loud. “They seemed to be gettin’ along so well together. I’m afraid I’m guilty of already seein’ Lane as one of my own.”
“I don’t see thet as makin’ a problem,” countered Kate.
“Well, somethin’ must have happened. I do admit it’s had me worryin’. Couldn’t figure out fer the life of me what got into the two of ’em. . . . Funny Clark didn’t see it. He’s usually so perceptive.”
“Sometimes it’s the most difficult to understand those closest to you,” Kate said, and Marty knew she was right.
“Well, now thet we know,” Marty determined, straightening up in her chair, “there should be somethin’ a body can do ’bout it. Sure wouldn’t want to lose Lane as a possible son-in-law.” She smiled across at Kate.
“Better go slow, Mama,” Kate warned her. “Maybe we are on the wrong track. An’ maybe the two of them won’t welcome any interference.”
“I’ll not jump into it,” promised Marty. “First, I’ll talk it over with Clark an’ see iffen he agrees with us. He’ll know what should be done—iffen anythin’.”
They changed the subject and finished their tea.
“Thank ya, dear,” Marty said at the door, giving her daughter-in-law a kiss on the cheek. “I needed that—all of it. Iffen we are right, I feel thet a load’s been lifted off me concernin’ Ellie. I will admit I was some worried. But I promise,” she continued laughingly as she held up her hand, “not to go bargin’ in.”
Kate laughed with her, and Marty wrapped her shawl once more about her and headed for her own house. The air was crisp and the snow still fell, but Marty felt as though she had been given new courage and purpose to face the many tomorrows ahead.
When Marty reached the warmth of her own kitchen, she had further reason to rejoice. Clark had returned from town, and the mail he brought with him contained three letters. Letters from her children! Marty could scarcely believe her good fortune.
Missie wrote that their winter had been mild, and Willie felt it had been the easiest winter yet on the cattle. They had enjoyed the visit of Willie’s brother and family. Missie didn’t know how her Josiah and Nathan would ever be able to entertain themselves once their cousins had gone. They had all enjoyed one another so much.
The church was continuing to reach out. Two of the regular families had moved away, but Henry had been calling on other ranches in the area and had already recruited one new family to join them. Another family had shown some interest, and they were all praying that they, too, might soon be desiring to share in Sunday worship.
Baby Melissa was growing daily. She was such a contented child, and she already thoroughly believed that her older brothers were the most important people in her world. Everyone loved her, and Missie feared lest the ranch hands would spoil her.
The boys were growing. Nathan had started school as planned and seemed to be a promising student. He was busy trying to teach his young brother, Josiah, to read. Josiah was eager to learn and had managed, under Nathan’s tutelage, to recognize half a dozen words. The family laughed about it and tried to dissuade Nathan from further teaching duties.
Missie said that they missed Lane and would be so glad to have him back again. Marty stopped her reading. For the first time since her talk with Kate, Marty realized if Lane and Ellie were truly interested in each other and they were to resolve their differences—whatever they were—Marty would be losing another daughter. It would not be easy, but this time Marty felt she would be prepared. God had helped her to give up Missie and Clae and Luke. Surely He could help her if Ellie should decide to leave them, too. Marty finished Missie’s letter and picked up the letter from Clae.
Clae was all excited about the little church where Joe was serving as a part-time pastor. She had never seen her Joe happier than he was now, even though the demands on his time were so great. The people were very kind to all of them, and they felt at home among them. It was the first she had really felt at home since leaving her family behind and traveling east. Clae, at last, felt free to voice her true feelings over the move. At first, she said, she had been so homesick that she had felt she just couldn’t bear it, and she had prayed daily for the time to pass quickly so they might go home again. God had now answered her prayer in an unexpected way. He had given them love and friendship and a contentment in His will that she wouldn’t have thought possible. She no longer chafed for home—though she still missed them all very much—but she was quite at home where she was, as long as Joe was happy and she had her little family and their new friends.
Esther Sue was getting so grown-up. She loved to help with her baby brother. The baby was a source of joy to each one of them. He looked much like his father, although his coloring was more like his mama.
They were still thinking of accepting a church in the East for a while, although eventually they did plan to come back to the rural area. Joe felt he would be more suitably placed in a farming community than in a city, but he believed he had so much he needed to learn before leaving the area where the seminary was. He could take a pastorate and fit in some night classes for a while and better equip himself for the ministry.
They were all keeping well. It was so good to have a visit with Luke upon his return after Christmas and catch up on all of the news from home. Clae sent her thanks over and over for the parcels Luke had carried back with him from the family. She admitted to shedding a few tears as she unwrapped each one, but they were happy tears, she maintained, and came from a grateful heart that had responded to the love which came with the gifts.
Marty laid aside the letter with mixed emotions. She was so glad Clae and Joe felt at home—and at peace. How good it was to entrust them to the care of the all-knowing and caring Father.
Marty reached for Luke’s letter and eagerly tore the envelope open. Luke, too, was full of good reports. He was busily engaged in his studies again. It had been so good to be home. He trusted that all the family was well. He had seen Clae and Joe, and they seemed to be happy in their new work. Joe was fairly bursting with the new knowledge he was absorbing. Especially was he excited about his in-depth study on the deity of Christ—that Christ, as Holy God, could care so much for sinful man was a truth he found staggering.
Luke was back into classes again and was even more sure than before, if possible, that his was a doctor’s calling. Such strides were being made in the field of medicine, and he wanted to be right there, a contributing part of it.
The letter was short, as Luke was in a hurry. He had much work to do in preparatio
n for his next day’s classes, he stated, but he had wanted to send his greetings home and thank them for their love and support.
Marty drank in the contents of each letter, promising herself that she would read them again before retiring. As she read each page, she passed it on to Ellie, who also pored over each one.
“They all sound fine, don’t they, Mama?” Ellie said as she read the last page.
“An’ I’m so thankful,” Marty responded, with the hint of tears in her eyes. “Nothin’ makes a mother happier than to know thet her family is fine.”
Ellie rose to go check on her supper, and Marty sighed contentedly as she carefully tucked each letter back into its envelope so Clark might read them as soon as he came in from the barn.
She had spoken the truth. Nothing made a mother happier than to know her children were all happy. Kate and Clare were eagerly waiting for their new baby. Missie was enjoying the visit of family and thrilled with each new accomplishment of her own little ones. Clae and Joe were happy in the work they felt called to do. Luke was thrilled with each new discovery as a physician-in-training. Arnie could hardly wait each night to get home to his Anne. Nandry’s family continued to grow and flourish. That left only her Ellie. Ellie’s eyes still bore a shadow. She would talk to Ellie tonight, but first she must have a chat with Clark to get his reaction to Kate’s theory. Marty did so want her sweet little Ellie to be happy, as well.
Eighteen
A Talk With Ellie
“Clark,” Marty said softly and waited until Clark lifted his head from the page he was reading.
He didn’t answer but silently looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
“Had me a talk with Kate today,” Marty told him.
“Ya said ya did.”
“She is so excited ’bout the comin’ of thet baby. They have everythin’ in readiness now. Don’t know how the two of ’em are ever gonna be able to stand the next six weeks or so.” Marty chuckled before she went on. “But thet weren’t all we talked ’bout. She’s been worried ’bout Ellie, too. She has noticed thet Ellie just isn’t her usual happy self.”
Clark nodded slowly, concern showing in his face.
“Kate prodded some an’ got me to thinkin’. Do you think there’s any chance thet Ellie is sweet on Lane? I mean thet they might sorta like each other an’ have had a fuss ’bout somethin’?”
The corners of Clark’s mouth turned down in surprise at the idea. “Never thought of it, but why not?” he finally said. “I mean, Lane is an attractive young man with a real love fer people, an’ Ellie is a pretty an’ pleasant girl. Why not? Why didn’t we think of thet? It’s not only possible, but it’s most likely.” Clark pondered a moment. “Do ya s’pose thet’s what she meant by not wantin’ Lane fer a brother?”
“I wonder iffen it might be,” Marty answered him, shaking her head back and forth. “Don’t know why I didn’t see it afore.”
“Guess we were just thinkin’ family too much where Lane was concerned.”
“Guess so. Then d’ya think it might be somethin’ like thet troublin’ Ellie?”
“Well, they sure could care fer each other, I see thet now. But why there should be any trouble with the carin’ I still don’t see. Neither of them are selfish or prideful. Don’t see why they can’t work out their little differences, if differences there be.”
“I was wonderin’ iffen we should have a chat with Ellie an’ see if there’s some way we could help ’em sort it out.”
“Where is Ellie?”
“She left fer the barn an’ thet dog of her’n again.”
“Ya mean dog of his’n.”
“Yeah, his’n.”
“I don’t know,” Clark wondered aloud, rubbing his chin. “I’ve never felt it too wise to interfere where heart matters are concerned. Usually it’s better to let ’em work it out on their own.”
“Thet’s ’bout what Kate said.” Marty dropped a stitch and continued on with her knitting.
“Hurts me, though,” she confided softly. “Ellie’s been sufferin’, I can tell. Lane don’t rightly look so good, either.”
“Maybe a body can beat round the bush some an’ come up with somethin’.”
“Ellie’s pretty shrewd. Don’t know iffen you’ll fool her none.”
“Might be easier to talk to Lane.”
Marty’s knitting needles stopped. “Now, what would ya say? ’Ya carin’ fer my daughter an’ havin’ some kinda fuss? She’s eatin’ her heart out, an’ I wanna know why’?”
“Yer right,” said Clark. “Thet wouldn’t be so easy, either.”
Marty’s needles began to slowly click again. She was usually a fast knitter, and the sound gave away the fact that her mind was not on her work. “What do ya think we should do?” she asked at last.
“Wish I knew fer sure. One thing sure is we should pray about it.”
At Marty’s nod, Clark bowed his head and led them in a fervent prayer for their daughter. And for Lane.
“I’m thinkin’ the only way might just be to up and come right straight out with it,” Clark observed after he raised his head.
“I think yer right,” agreed Marty, and Clark laid his book aside and stood up.
“Guess I’ll take me a little walk,” he said, “an’ see iffen I can discover what is so special ’bout a certain dog.”
Marty’s eyes looked deeply into Clark’s to assure him that she trusted him to do and say the right things where their daughter was concerned, and then her knitting needles began to pick up speed.
Clark walked into the kitchen and pulled on his coat against the cold. He didn’t bother to light another lantern. The winter moon shone brightly in the sky, and millions of stars sparkled above him. His way would be well lit to the barn, and once there, Ellie’s lantern would light the interior for both of them.
He did not hurry. He needed time to think. He needed time to pray once more. He had no idea how to approach the delicate subject with his daughter. It helped that they had always been able to talk easily to each other. At times like this, Clark was so glad there had been years of establishing a strong connection with each of his children. It was well worth it for a father to take the time, he knew with great certainty.
The snow crunched beneath his foot and crutch, and his breath preceded him in smoky little puffs. He opened the barn door and entered, turning to close it tightly behind him. He wanted to give Ellie the advantage of adjusting to his presence before he turned to look at her. He found her sitting on a pile of straw, gently stroking the dog she called Rex.
Clark cleared his throat and crossed over to lean on a half partition. For a moment neither of them spoke.
“He’s really growin’, ain’t he?” Clark said at last.
“Sure is,” responded Ellie.
“Seems like a nice dog. He learnin’ well?”
“He’s really quick,” said Ellie.
“You’ve always thought ’im kinda special, ain’t ya?”
Ellie agreed that she had. Clark knelt down and stroked the dog with his large work-roughened hand. The dog squirmed with the pleasure of it but did not leave Ellie.
“Seems to me thet’s more’n a dog yer holdin’,” Clark observed.
Ellie’s head came up quickly, but she did not ask her father what he meant.
Clark continued to stroke the dog.
“Seems like it’s a dream thet yer holdin’, as well,” went on Clark, and Ellie’s head bowed over the dog again. “A dream . . . an’ maybe a love.”
Tears came to Ellie’s eyes and started to slide down her cheeks. Clark reached out and gently brushed one of them away.
“What is it, little girl?” he asked softly. “Do ya love a man who doesn’t return yer love?”
“Oh no. He does,” Ellie said quickly. “He . . . he wanted me to have a locket fer Christmas. He would have come courtin’. I know thet, Pa, iffen I would have given ’im any hope at all.”
“An’ why didn’t ya?” asked Cl
ark simply.
“Why?”
“Yeah, why? Didn’t ya feel like he’s the kinda man ya could love?”
“Oh, I do love ’im, I do,” sobbed Ellie.
Clark reached out and drew his daughter into his arms. He let her cry against him, saying nothing, only holding her close and stroking her long golden curls.
When Ellie’s sobs appeared to be lessening, he spoke again.
“I’m afraid ya lost me,” he said against her hair. “Ya say thet he would have come courtin’—an’ ya say thet ya love ’im. Then why are the two of ya so miserable an’ there’s no courtin’ bein’ done?”
Ellie pulled back and looked at her father, eyes wide in astonishment.
“I can’t,” she sobbed again. “Ya know thet. I can’t.” When Clark did not respond, she said, “Mama needs me.”
The words soaked slowly into Clark’s consciousness, and he pushed the girl away from him and looked into her eyes. “Whoa, now,” he said. “What is this yer tellin’ me?”
“Mama needs me,” Ellie repeated.
“Sure, Mama needs ya, but she sure ain’t expectin’ ya to go on bein’ her housemaid fer all the years to come.”
“But the baby—”
“Mama has had babies afore—an’ she’s made out just fine, too. Oh, I will admit I was some worried, too—at first—but she’s doin’ just fine now. Why, yer mama is no softie. She can handle most anythin’ thet needs handlin’, an’ one little baby, more or less, sure ain’t gonna bother her none.”
“But it’s not just thet,” said Ellie.
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“What else, then?” said Clark, fearing that a fresh torrent of tears was on the way.
“Lane is going back west as soon as the LaHayes get back to care fer the farm.”
“So?”
“Every time one of us goes far away, it pains Mama. You know how it hurt her when Missie went, and then Clae, and now Luke. It would nigh kill her iffen I went, too.”