by Janette Oke
Sunday arrived and with it some visitors to the LaHaye spread. At two o’clock in the afternoon, the opening hymn of their regular Sunday service was led by Henry Klein. Clark and Marty were happy to renew their acquaintance with the wagon driver who had come west with the LaHayes. Henry had changed much in those few short years. No longer a bashful, hesitant boy, he was now a sincere and confident man, presenting proudly an attractive wife and a two-year-old son, Caldwell.
As they sang the hymn, Marty glanced around her. Some of the LaHaye cowhands were there. She couldn’t remember all the names, though she had been introduced. There was Cookie—she had no problem remembering Cookie—and Rusty and Lane. The other two names she could not recall. A neighborhood family had joined them for the service. Marty saw the small boy with the twisted arm, and her heart went out to him. These were the Newtons, a young couple with four young sons.
After the singing, Willie led the service and Clark was asked, as honored guest, to give the Bible lesson. The people were attentive, and Marty even heard an occasional quiet amen.
Juan and Maria and their baby girl and young son were not in attendance this time. Missie had told Marty about her friend and kept an eye on the road that twisted down the hill, no doubt hoping they would arrive, but when the service was over they still hadn’t come. Missie was worried, she told her mother. It was the second Sunday in a row the de la Rosas had not showed up. They were not away from home, since Scottie had reported seeing them Friday. No one was ill, for they had all been in town together. Missie could not think of a reason for their absence, she explained, her voice low. She must call on them and see if there was some problem.
After the service ended, Missie served coffee and some of Wong’s delicious doughnuts. They sat and visited, sharing their daily experiences, some joys and some difficulties. Marty and Clark were glad for the opportunity to get to know some of Missie and Willie’s neighbors. They all seemed to feel that the service was a special time in their week.
The cowboys were the first to take their reluctant leave. It was time for their shift, and Scottie would be watching for them.
Next the Newtons also left. Mr. Newton as yet did not employ many hands on his spread and needed to get back in the saddle himself. He stated they hadn’t been bothered much with rustlers lately, but one could never tell when they might decide to strike. The small, defenseless ranches were easy picking. The Newtons promised to be back again the next Sunday.
The Kleins stayed for supper. Marty could tell Wong was happy for the chance to show off his culinary skills. Nathan and Josiah, glad for a playmate, took Caldwell out to the patio to play with a delighted Max, who ran around in circles with excited yelps to remind them that for the last few days he had been getting very little attention.
Marty chatted with Melinda Klein while Missie fussed about the table, setting it with the good dishes and making sure everything looked its best. Marty soon came to feel very close to Melinda. Though some distance in age between them, they had shared similar experiences in their introduction to the West, both having lost a young husband in tragic accidents. Marty was glad that Melinda had Henry to help her over the hurt and confusion of losing the one she loved while so far away from friends and family. And I’m glad I had Clark, she thought with a quick glance at him across the room.
Henry, too, was anxious for news from the home area. Though Clark and Marty knew few of the people Henry would have claimed as neighbors, they were able to tell him some of the general news from the district.
Soon after the evening meal, the Kleins left for home and the boys were tucked in for the night. After their double portion of bedtime stories, they settled down, not to be heard from again till morning. Missie declared that the excitement of Sundays always tired them out.
Marty, too, felt tired, even though she was gradually catching up on the missed sleep. Willie informed her that it was the change in the altitude. Marty was willing to accept any excuse for her laziness. All she knew was that she was longing for her bed.
She hid a yawn and tried to get back into the conversation. Clark and Willie were making plans for the morning. It sounded as though wherever they were going, it would be a long ride. Willie was asking Missie if she wished to go. Marty was already stiff from her short ride of the day before. She wasn’t sure she could handle another horseback ride, but Missie was answering, “I thought Mama and I should go on over to see Maria. I can’t understand why they have missed two Sundays. If it’s okay with Mama, we’ll go and see what we can find out. I’m anxious for Mama and Maria to meet. You’ll never believe Maria,” Missie said, turning to Marty. “She speaks very good English now. Me—I hardly got a decent start on Spanish.”
So it will be the saddle again tomorrow. Marty winced at the thought. Not only would she ride tomorrow, but from what she had understood, she would ride a long way. The de la Rosas were not near neighbors.
Marty nodded her head in agreement, hoping Missie did not read any hesitation.
Missie continued, “We should leave by nine. I think we’d better take the team so Mama won’t need to ride so soon again, not being used to it. Besides, it’s a fair ways and we’ll need to take the boys. Could you have Scottie see that the team is ready for us, please?”
Willie nodded and Marty breathed in her relief. Everyone, now having settled on the plans for the morrow, decided that sleep would be needed to carry them through. They bade each other good-night and headed for their beds.
EIGHT
Marty Meets Maria
The sun rose over the distant hills the next morning and right from the sunrise seemed to pour forth intense heat.
After breakfast and the morning chores, Willie brought the team around, and Missie loaded her sons and canteens with plenty of water for the day. Marty placed her bonnet firmly on her head as protection from the sun and wished she had a cooler gown.
“My, it’s warm!” she exclaimed, but Missie did not seem bothered by the heat.
“A breeze should come up and cool things off some,” she responded, then clucked to the team and they were off.
They had not gone far before Marty could feel the breeze, though she might have preferred to call it a gale. It was not anything like the cooling breezes that swept over the valley at home. In fact, Marty thought the wind felt even hotter than the sun. It whipped at her cheeks, drying and scorching them. It tore at her skirts and made the brim of her bonnet flap. Marty did not care for wind, and she wished it would blow elsewhere.
“I guess I’ve gotten used to the wind,” Missie remarked as Marty tried to hold her bonnet down with one hand and her skirts with the other.
Nathan and Josiah rode comfortably on the first part of the journey, then began the age-old question, “How much longer?” Missie dealt with it good-naturedly until Nathan began to tease his younger brother, for lack of something else to do, and then she stopped the horses and lifted the youngsters down to stretch their legs. She gave them each a drink from a canteen and a couple of cookies and instructed them to play in the shade of the wagon while Mama and Grandma took a short walk. There was no shade for walking, so there was no temptation to linger. In fact, Marty was glad to be back in the wagon and moving again.
When they came to the river, Marty glanced up and down its length for a bridge. There was none. Missie confidently headed the horses into the stream, explaining as she did so that it used to flow deeper at that point until the men of the area widened the riverbed and allowed the stream to spread out. “Now,” said Missie, “it’s safe to cross here almost any time of year.”
Marty, most relieved to hear it was safe, still gripped the wagon seat with white knuckles and snatched anxious glances over her shoulder at her grandsons. Crossing the river was the most exciting part of the journey for the boys. Marty heard their squeals of delight as the swirling water foamed about the wagon wheels. Once across, though, they began to coax their mother to hurry the team and complained they were too crowded, too hot, and too hung
ry.
Missie eventually handed the reins to Marty and took Josiah on her lap. Without Josiah to torment, Nathan, too, settled down for the remainder of the trip.
It was almost noon before the de la Rosas’ buildings came into view. Marty saw a large, low ranch house, built of the same stone as Missie’s home, though not quite as spacious. It nestled among brown hills, and there was not even a spring to add some green to the area. Missie informed Marty that the de la Rosas were fortunate in having all the water they needed from the deep well they had dug. The well now was showing its worth as a windmill turned busily in the ever-present wind, causing a pump to send a constant stream of water from its spout into a large animal trough.
“Well, it’s nice to know thet the wind is good fer somethin’,” murmured Marty under her breath as Missie guided the team into the yard and directed them to the hitching rail.
A young woman came rushing from the house.
“Missie!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so glad you have come. I’ve been missing our visits!” She saw Marty and stopped with embarrassment. “Oh, please do excuse my bad manners. I did not know that Missie was not alone. You must be the mother. The one Missie has missed and cried and prayed for.”
Marty nodded and smiled.
“And I am Maria—the mindless one,” she quipped. “I run heedless when I see a friend.”
Marty laughed and extended her hand, then changed her mind and hugged Maria close.
“Missie has told me of ya,” Marty said carefully. “Yer such a special friend, and I am so glad to meet ya,” she finished warmly.
“And I you,” said Maria, giving Marty a warm embrace in return, “though I must say that seeing you makes me even more longing for the mama of my own. It has been so long… .”
Maria did not finish her sentence. Missie had lifted the boys down, and they were clamoring for some attention.
“Where’s José?” asked Nathan.
“He’s in the house, where we all should be out of this hot sun. Come, you must get in out of the heat. You are brave to come on such a day.” And Maria quickly led them all into her home.
“José is in the kitchen bothering the cook,” she told Nathan. “You may get him and you can play in his room. I don’t think that even our patient Carlos could put up with two small boys in the kitchen.”
Nathan went to find José, and the ladies walked into the coolness of the sitting room, Josiah in tow. Marty felt so much better out of the sun. She slipped off her bonnet and was glad to wipe the perspiration from her face with a handkerchief. My, it was a hot trip!
Maria seated them and went for cool drinks. Upon hearing the two older boys chattering as they came from the kitchen, Josiah decided to tag along with them to José’s room.
The ladies were left to sip cold tea and visit. The talk was centered around the family, area news, and ranching. Marty was included, though some of the phrases the two young women used regarding ranching were new to her.
“You should have waited for a day more less hot,” said Maria and then laughed at her mixed-up English. “How you say it?” she asked Missie.
“A cooler day.”
“My goodness—cooler, no! There is nothing cool about this day. How can it be more cool than something that is not cool at all?”
Marty and Missie laughed at Maria’s reasoning. They had no answer to her logic.
“Anyway,” said Maria, “it is very warm in the sun. We are used to it here, but you, Mrs. Davis, must find it bad to you.”
“It is warm,” admitted Marty. “This tea is jest right.”
“Well, I guess we should have waited,” Missie said. “But who knows, it might get hotter instead of cooler, and I did want to see you, Maria.”
“A special reason?” asked Maria seriously.
“Rather special. We’ve been missing you on Sundays, and I was afraid—well, I wondered—that is, I hoped nothing was wrong.”
At the mention of the Sunday service, Maria’s head drooped.
“I wanted to go. I missed it. But Juan—well, he is not so sure. Not sure that we do the right thing. At home we teach our boy one thing—one way to pray, one way to worship God—and at the meeting, you teach him another way. It puzzles him. You understand? Juan, he thinks that we should not confuse our son with more than one God.”
“But, Maria,” exclaimed Missie, “we’ve talked about that! It’s the same God. We worship the same God, just in a little different way.”
“I know, I know,” said Maria, her hands fluttering expressively. “I know all that. And I think that Juan, he even understands that. But he is frightened—frightened that José will not understand and he will not wish to worship God at all. Do you not see?”
“Yes, I see,” said Missie slowly, tears filling her eyes. “I see.”
“Oh, I am so glad. So glad that you understand. I was afraid you would not be able to see how we felt. I did not want you to think ill of me.”
“Maria, I would never think ill of you.”
Maria turned to hide her own tears. For a moment she couldn’t speak, and then she turned back to her guests and the tears were running down her cheeks.
“You must pray for us. Right now Juan has many doubts, many questions. He cannot leave the church of his past, but he has here no church of his own. He does not want his child to grow up without the proper church teaching, but he is no longer sure what he wants our boy to be taught. There were things about Juan’s church—actually, my church, too—that he did not agree with, but we love our church. Juan has not forsaken it. He will never forsake it. In the services at your house we have heard new and strange things from the Bible. We did not know of them before. It takes much wisdom, much time, much searching of the heart to know the truth. Please be patient with us, Missie. And please pray for us that we may know the truth. One day we think, ‘This is it,’ and the next day we say, ‘No, that is it.’ It is hard—so very hard.”
“I understand,” said Missie slowly. “We will pray. We will pray that you will find the truth—not that you will believe as we believe, but that you will find the truth. We believe with all our heart that God has given His truth to us in His Son Jesus Christ, that He came to die for us and to forgive us our sins, and—” Missie stopped short. “But you believe that, too, Maria. You have told me that Jesus is the only way that one can come to God.”
“Oh yes,” said Maria. “That is the truth.”
“Then all we really need to pray about is that God will show you and Juan if it’s all right to worship with us.”
“I … I think so. We have been taught one way—you another.”
“We will continue to pray.”
“It is so important to Juan to raise his children in the correct way. You see, his family—” But Maria stopped midsentence and hastened to her feet. “I must see if Carlos has our coffee and cakes ready. You will have cooled enough by now to be able to enjoy some of Carlos’s coffee.” She hurried away without waiting for a reply.
The talk over the coffee turned to lighter matters. They chatted about new material, dress patterns, and the gardens that were growing daily in spite of the heat. Missie finally announced that they must go, and Maria sent José and Nathan to find Pedro, the yard hand, to bring the team and hitch up the wagon.
While the boys were running off to find the old man and give him the message, the women prepared to leave.
“Please,” said Maria, “please could we have a prayer together? I have missed it so.”
They knelt to pray. Missie prayed first, followed by Marty, and then it was Maria’s turn. She began slowly, in carefully chosen English, and then she stopped and turned to the other two ladies. “Do you mind—will you excuse me—if I talk to God in my own language? I know He understands my heart in any language, but I think He understands my tongue better in the language of my birth.” At their nods and smiles, Maria continued her prayer. Never had Marty heard a more fervent one. Maria poured out her soul to her God in honey-flowing Sp
anish. Though Marty could not understand a word of it, she understood the spirit of the prayer, and her heart prayed along with Maria. Surely God would answer this young woman’s yearning for the truth.
NINE
The Rescue
Though still too warm for Marty’s liking, the weather turned a bit more bearable. Missie and Marty kept close to the shelter of the house, but Clark rode with the men almost daily. Marty could tell his farmer’s heart responded to the wide expanse of hillsides and roaming cattle, and he declared many times his love of the mountains.
Nathan clamored for his grandfather’s attention. He was anxious to show off “his” part of the ranch to Clark. As yet, he was not allowed to roam freely on the open range. But there were well-worn trails closer to home that he claimed as his own. He had ridden them since he had been a baby carried on his mother’s back. Now Josiah had replaced Nathan on Missie’s horse, and Nathan was allowed the privilege of his own pony.
“Could ya ride with me today, Grandpa?” Nathan begged at the breakfast table.
“Well, I shore don’t see why not,” answered Clark. “I ’spect maybe yer pa will be able to git by without me fer this here one day.”
Nathan took his grandfather’s words seriously. “Ya can help him again tomorra,” he assured Clark, causing laughter to ripple around the table.
“An’ where’re we ridin’ today?”
“I’ll show ya the west ridge.”
“An’ are there lots of excitin’ things to see on the west ridge?”
Nathan nodded his head vigorously, since his mouth was too full of scrambled eggs to speak.