Love's Enduring Promise

by Janette Oke

  Clare was piling blocks in an effort to construct a barn. The blocks would periodically fall on the unfortunate pieces of broom straw that were his farm animals, and then he would need to start over again.

  Arnie, who could now sit alone, watched Clare intently, looking particularly fascinated by the noise created when the blocks came tumbling down. This would bring gurgles of delight, and his round little body would rock back and forth with excitement.

  Clare dutifully explained to young Arnie which straws were the horses, which the cows, the calves, and the hogs. Arnie listened wide-eyed and squealed in response.

  At the sound of Ole Bob, the room came alive. Clark had returned from town. Marty hadn’t expected him for another hour. She got up quickly and checked the clock to see if she had misread the time. No, it was indeed early.

  Clare jumped up from his spot on the rug. “Pa’s home!” he shouted, letting his building blocks fall where they may, unmindful of the damage done to the straw horses and cows.

  Marty started to call him back to pick up the toys, then changed her mind. He could pick them up when he came in for supper. It was important to him—and to Clark—that he now greet his pa.

  Missie, too, holding carefully the blanketed kitten, headed for the door.

  “Boy, I’ll bet Arnie’s sad!” Clare yelled as he ran through the kitchen.

  “Whatcha meanin’?” Marty had to call after him to be heard.

  “He can’t run,” the fleeing boy flung back over his shoulder and was gone, the door slamming behind him.

  Marty smiled and went for Arnie, now deserted on the rug.

  “Are ya sad?” she asked the baby as she lifted him up.

  Arnie didn’t look sad—maybe a bit puzzled at all the sudden bustling about, but otherwise content. A happy smile spread over his face. Marty kissed his cheek and walked to the kitchen window.

  She had expected to see Clare and Missie hitching a ride with Clark to the barn, so she was surprised when all three were coming up the path to the house together. The youngsters were skipping along beside their father, chattering noisily.

  Clark, too, seemed excited. Marty walked toward the door to meet the group.

  “Good news!” he fairly shouted, taking hold of her waist and whirling both her and the baby around the kitchen. Marty held on tightly to Arnie, who was enjoying the whole thing immensely.

  “’Sakes alive, Clark!” she said when she had caught her breath. “What’s happened?”

  Clark laughed and pulled her close. Young Arnie grabbed a handful of his father’s shirt.

  “Got great news,” Clark said. “We got us a teacher.”

  “A teacher!”

  “Yep—come fall thet there little school’s goin’ to be bustlin’ with book learnin’ and bell ringin’. Hear thet, Missie?” He stopped to lift the little girl up and swing her around.

  “We got us a teacher,” he repeated. “Come fall, ya can start off to school, jest like a grand lady.”

  “Grand ladies don’t go off to school,” Marty argued with a laugh. Then, nearly ready to explode with curiosity, she caught hold of her husband’s arm. “Oh, Clark, do stop all the silliness and tell us all ’bout it. Oh, it’s such wonderful news. Jest think, Missie, a teacher fer yer school. Ain’t thet jest the best news? Who is it, Clark, an’ where does she come from?”

  “He—it’s a he. Mr. Wilbur Whittle is his name, an’ he comes from some fancy city back east—can’t recall jest now which one—but he’s jest full of learnin’. Been teachin’ fer eight years already, but he wanted to see the West fer himself.”

  Missie came to life then. “Goodie! Goodie!” she shouted, clapping her hands, obviously just catching on to all the excitement. “I git to go to school. I’ll read an’ draw pictures an’ everythin’.”

  “Me too,” said Clare.

  “Not you, Clare,” Missie insisted in big-sister fashion. “Yer too little.”

  “Am not,” Clare countered. “I’m ’most as big as you.”

  Marty wasn’t sure where the argument would have ended had not Clark intervened.

  “Hey,” he said, sweeping up Clare, “ya’ll sure ’nough go to school all right, but not yet. I need ya to help with the milkin’ an’ chorin’ yet awhile. In a couple of years maybe I’ll be able to spare ya when Arnie gits a little bigger an’ can help his pa.”

  Clare was satisfied. Let Missie go to school. He’d sacrifice for a while. He was needed at home.

  The commotion that the news stirred up was hard to control, but finally Marty placed Arnie in his chair with a piece of bread crust to chew on. Clare went with Clark to care for the horses and do the chores. Missie unbundled her kitten, explaining gravely that she would no longer be able to play as much. She was grown-up now and would be going off to school. Then she proceeded to lay out her best frock, clean stockings, and her Sunday boots—only about five and a half months prematurely.

  Marty smiled at Missie’s earnest preparations and went about the supper preparations with a song in her heart. This fall they would have their new school. Missie would get the long-coveted education. Would Nandry and Clae be as fortunate? Marty promised herself again that she would do all in her power to see it happen.

  SIX

  Wanda’s New Baby

  Warm April sun shone down on the earth, melting away the winter snow and bringing forth crocuses and dandelions. Marty rejoiced in the springtime sun, thinking ahead to the days spent planting her garden and tending her summer flowers.

  The children, too, were delighted to now spend time outside in the sunshine. Clare tagged along with Clark whenever it was possible, and Missie enjoyed bundling up Little Arnie and taking him out to play. Clark had made a small wooden cart with wheels, and she carted the toddler all around the yard. When she—and Arnie—finally tired of that, she would return him to Marty and scamper outside to dig around in a protected area of soil near the house she had dubbed “my garden.” Marty had given her a few seeds, and already some shoots of green showed where a turnip or some lettuce was making an appearance. Missie found it difficult to leave them alone and often was admonished for digging them up to see how they were doing. Her “garden” would have been much further along but for its periodic setbacks from its overly solicitous gardener.

  Marty was about ready to ask Clark if he would turn the soil in the big garden for her, but then she cautioned herself not to get into too big a rush. The nights were still cool, and early plants might yet be damaged by frost. Still, she found it nearly as hard to be patient as Missie did.

  In the meantime Marty put every available minute into knitting two baby shawls. One was for Wanda’s new baby and one for Sally Anne’s. Missie loved to watch the shawls take shape and begged to add a few stitches of her own. When Marty had to quietly undo the extra stitches, she set the child up with wool and needles for her own small project. Missie announced it would be a sweater for her kitty.

  One evening as Marty sat waiting for the potatoes to boil for supper, using the time to add a few more stitches to the final shawl, Ole Bob started up with an awful racket outside. Marty had never heard him so fussed over something before. She looked out the window to see an approaching rider, and she understood why the dog was wrought up. Never had she seen such agitation and determination exhibited in a horseback rider. He was leaning well over the animal, using the end of the rein as a whip and pumping with his legs as though to produce more speed from the animal. The horse, already lathered, was breathing hard and obviously pushing forward with every muscle.

  As the rider swung through the gate and straightened up, Marty could see it was Cameron Marshall.

  Clark appeared from somewhere and caught a rein as the man threw them from him and slid to the ground. He could barely stand and supported himself on the rail fence. Marty’s thoughts jumped to Wanda and immediate concern filled her. She rushed out of the house and met Clark and Cam coming in.

  She looked to Clark with her unasked question, and he mus
t have understood, answering her quickly to allay her fears. “Wanda’s fine,” he told her. “She is in labor, and Doc is there—but she is uneasy like, an’ she wants you. I’ll hitch the team, an’ you can take Cam home. I’ll bring his horse over later. The animal needs a rest now. She’s already been to town an’ back for the doc, an’ now here.”

  Marty glanced at the foam-flecked, rather worn-out looking creature. So this was Cam Marshall’s prize horse. She didn’t look very promising at the moment, but maybe Clark would be able to coax some life back into her with feed and a good rubdown.

  “I’ll be right back with the team,” Clark said, leading the limping, tired animal away.

  “Come inside,” Marty spoke to the man, who was still trying to catch his breath. “I’ll jest take a minute to gather a few things.”

  He followed, though she wondered if he was really aware of his surroundings.

  “Sit down there,” Marty directed. She pushed the boiling potatoes toward the back of the stove. The meat in the oven was smelling delicious and made her feel hungry. At least supper would be ready for her family. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Cameron.

  “Do ya take cream or sweetenin’?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “You drink this while I get me ready,” Marty said, wondering if he actually was accustomed to drinking it black or just couldn’t be bothered to think about it.

  She left him sipping from the cup while she hurried to the bedroom and began to put a few things in a bag. She’d have to take Arnie with her in case the hours dragged past his feeding time. The other two tykes she’d leave in the care of their pa.

  By the time she had put together what she needed and bundled up their small son, Clark was in the kitchen talking to Cameron. Marty noticed that Cam had downed the coffee. Maybe that would keep him on his feet at least.

  Clark helped her to the wagon, where she deposited Arnie into a small box filled with hay. They kept it in a corner of the wagon for the express purpose of bedding down the little ones. She then took her place on the seat, and Clark handed her the reins.

  Cameron did not object to Marty driving the team. She was relieved, knowing instinctively that in Cam’s present state of worry, Clark would be concerned about the team being pushed unnecessarily hard. Doc was already there, so Marty could drive sensibly. Even with this knowledge, though, she urged the team forward and kept them traveling at a fairly fast pace. Wanda had asked for her. She planned to be there as soon as she could.

  By the time they reached the Marshalls’ one-room cabin, Cameron had settled down and seemed again to be in control of himself.

  He helped Marty from the wagon, handed Arnie to her, and placed her bag of belongings on the ground, promising to bring it in for her upon his return from settling the team.

  Marty hurried into the house, placing Arnie on the floor on her coat while reminding herself to later see to having the box with its hay mattress brought from the wagon for him.

  She crossed to the bed at the far end of the one room. Doc paid little heed to her approach, for Wanda was getting his full attention.

  “May I talk to her?” Marty whispered.

  “Go ahead,” he answered. “Quiet her if you can.”

  Marty nodded. She found a place at the head of the bed and looked down at Wanda’s pale face.

  “I’m here,” Marty told her friend softly.

  Wanda tried for a smile. “You came,” she said in a weak voice. “I’m so glad. I’m scared, Marty. What if—”

  But Marty didn’t let her finish. “Everythin’ is goin’ jest fine,” she comforted. “Doc is here. Shouldn’t be long now ’til ya have thet fine son—or pretty daughter—thet ya been want-in’. Jest ya take it easy an’ listen careful to what Doc tells ya to do. He knows all ’bout birthin’ babies.”

  Wanda looked unconvinced but said, “I’ll try.”

  “Good! Now I’m gonna git yer man an’ the doc some supper. ’Member, I’m right here iffen ya need me.”

  Wanda gave a slight nod, then closed her eyes again.

  Marty squeezed her hand and left her to see what she could find to go along with the meat and loaf of bread she had brought for their supper. She was thankful that Arnie slept contentedly on. Cameron came in from the barn, but he seemed to want to stay as far as possible from his wife and the doctor at the other end of the room.

  Supper was prepared, and Cam didn’t even make the attempt to eat something. But Doc took a moment from his vigil to gulp a cup of coffee and eat a cold meat sandwich. Marty could read a bit of uncertainty in his face. It unnerved her and made her feel awkward and fumbling as she cleared the table and washed up the dishes.

  The single room seemed overcrowded with people and anxiety. Cameron left to pace back and forth beneath the stars. Marty found a moment to whisper an inquiry to the doc.

  “She should have delivered by now,” he answered honestly. “I don’t like it. The baby is small and sure doesn’t need that added struggle to get into the world. I’m afraid the extra time will weaken it. I’m thinking of sending for Mrs. Graham. I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid that once that baby’s here, it’s going to take all we’ve got to keep it with us.”

  Marty prayed a silent prayer, the tears flooding her eyes.

  “I’ll send Cam,” she whispered to the doctor.

  She carefully removed all traces of her tears. There was no need to alarm Cameron further. She went out into the cool night and found him sitting, head in hands, on the chopping block.

  “Cam,” Marty said. He looked up rather frantically.

  “Doc says he’d like to have Ma Graham here, jest as an extra pair of hands like, so’s one can sorta look to Wanda an’ the other care for the baby when it comes. Doctors like to work with assistants, an’ me, I know nothin’ ’bout deliverin’ babies. Ya can take the team. Doc says there’s lots of time.” She tried to keep her tone as matter-of-fact as possible.

  Cameron got to his feet, looking relieved there was something he could do.

  Marty returned to the house and listened for the team to leave the yard.

  Good, she thought, he’s drivin’ sensibly, as she went to feed Little Arnie.

  When Cameron and Ma arrived, Ma was able to relieve the doctor while he had a cup of coffee and then took a stretch around the farmyard.

  Marty made more coffee, consoled Wanda, and put Arnie down for the night. She looked at him tucked into his hay-filled box and envied him. There was no place for anyone else to lie down.

  After a long night of waiting and just after the new day had poured its dawn over the eastern horizon, the new baby made his appearance. Marty had gone to the woodpile to replenish the fire, and upon her return she heard the weak cry of a newborn.

  Wanda, too, heard the cry and a murmur came from her pale lips.

  “It’s a boy,” the doctor announced in the triumphant tone a doctor uses on such occasions. But Marty carefully watched his face to read his expression. She saw him go over to Cameron, and though he kept his voice low, she heard him tell the father that the baby was not very strong, but he’d do all in his power to save him. Cam simply nodded dumbly and sank back down on his chair.

  Doc nodded to Ma to take over with Wanda, and he carried the fragile bundle to the table.

  Marty was instructed to push the table nearer the stove and spread the small blankets to receive the little one, and there, with his satchel opened beside him, the doc waged a battle for life that would last many hours.

  Marty instinctively knew he was calling on every bit of his training and available medication to assist him in the fight against the Grim Reaper. He quietly told her later that twice he thought he’d surely lost, but somehow a spark of life was again coaxed into the tiny body.

  And so it was that twenty-eight hours later, when Marty and the doctor left for their homes, Wanda still had her baby boy, and Cameron’s eyes spoke volumes about his thankfulness and appreciation. He even promised Doc his
horse in payment for his services.

  Ma remained to spend some days with Wanda until she was able to be on her feet again. Cameron took a couple of blankets to the hayloft for himself and spread a feather tick on the cabin floor for Ma.

  Cameron seemed to have recovered from the ordeal and was already making boasts about the boy his son would become and the great things they would accomplish together.

  Marty returned home so weary she could hardly guide the horses. Good old Dan and Charlie, given their head, found their own way at their own pace. And Arnie cheerfully enjoyed the ride from his convenient perch in the box behind his mother.

  Clark strode quickly over to welcome Marty when she drove into the yard, as did two excited children and a dog half wild with excitement. Marty felt herself fairly drop into Clark’s arms.

  “It’s a boy,” she murmured, “an’ he’s livin’. Doc says he should make it now.”

  Marty reached her bed with Little Arnie. She held him close as she nursed him. He had been such a good baby through the whole difficult time. She kissed his soft head and then sleep claimed her. She never heard Clark enter the bedroom a little later to find the contented baby playing with bare toes and jabbering to himself and the tired mother sound asleep.

  SEVEN

  Mrs. Larson

  The month of April brought new life into the neighborhood, but sadly, it claimed life, as well. Word came to Clark and Marty on a rainy Wednesday afternoon that Mrs. Larson had quietly slipped away in her sleep.

  Marty was deeply concerned over the fact that Clae had been the one to find her. It seemed like the poor girl should have been spared that much at least, but her father, Jedd Larson, had not been home at the time.

  The funeral was to take place the following day. The women in the community carefully bathed and prepared the body for burial, and the neighbor men built the plain wooden box in which it was laid. Marty took one of her own dresses over for Tina Larson to rest in, and Mrs. Stern was able to spare a blanket to drape the inside of the coffin.