“Let us pray.” John closed his Bible. “Heavenly Father, we do not understand thy plan and thy purposes, but we know that thou art our God, our Father, and our Comforter. We thank thee that thou hast prepared a mansion for us in the heavenly places, and that we will see our loved ones when we get there too.” He stopped, blew his nose, and stumbled over the next words. “For all thy blessings, we praise thy holy name.” He raised his voice and made the sign of the cross in the air. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his countenance to shine upon thee and give thee his peace. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The wind clacked the branches of the cottonwood tree someone had planted in the cemetery. No more lonesome sound had ever been heard.
“Go in peace,” John said, dismissing the group of mourners.
Mary Martha took Zeb’s arm and turned to look for Bridget. She stood between Penny and Hjelmer, with Thorliff in front as if protecting her. That was as it should be.
“The ladies have prepared a meal for us at the church. Won’t you all please come?” John announced to the crowd standing so quietly and soberly.
Mary Martha looked up to catch his gaze resting upon her. Oh, to be able to run to his arms and be held while she cried out her sorrow.
Instead she gathered the girls, and the four of them made their way back to the church.
They stayed only long enough to be polite. Mary Martha watched Zeb’s valiant effort to accept the condolences offered, but she could tell that while he might be talking and breathing, there was no life in her baby brother.
By the time they came out, snow covered the mud ruts, the dead grass, and the fresh mounds of dirt in the graveyard. It stung their faces on the way home.
But in the morning it was gone.
Along with the girls.
Mary Martha threw on a coat and tore out to the barn, where Zeb was milking one of the cows. “Zeb, they’re gone!”
“Who’s gone?” He kept his head in the cow’s flank, turning only enough to see her in the lantern light.
“Manda and Deborah.”
“Gone where?”
“I don’t know, but they aren’t in their beds, not anywhere in the house.”
“Go check the horse while I finish this cow.”
Mary Martha checked the stalls and the corral outside where some of the animals stayed. Manda’s horse was missing.
“Fool kids. What’s the matter with them?” Zeb slammed his hand against the doorframe and flinched.
“I don’t know, but I’m going with you.”
“No, you stay here in case they come back.”
“They won’t come back. Not Manda. Once she makes up her mind . . .”
“I know. Like a bear trap.” He handed her the pail of milk. “You fix us some food to take, and I’ll saddle the horses.”
Within minutes they were loping across the prairie, staying clear of the roads that were ankle-deep mud. They checked at the Bjorklund farms, Goodie’s house, and the store. No one had seen the two leave.
“You go tell Pastor Solberg, and I’ll go get Baptiste to help me track.”
Haakan rode up with several others. “We can all fan out and search. Any idea where they might go?”
God, please help us. Protect our two errant ones, please. We can’t do with any more loss around here. She opened her eyes and nodded. “I know where they are headed.”
“Where?” Zeb looked up from adjusting his cinch.
“To their homestead.”
“They can’t get that far.”
“No, but Manda will give it a try.”
They caught up with the girls just before dusk, thanks to Baptiste, who had become as good a tracker as his grandmother.
“Manda, Deborah, what in heaven’s name is the matter with you?” Zeb clutched the reins of their horse as if he might strangle the leathers, since he didn’t dare touch the two girls.
“We ain’t stayin’ where we ain’t wanted.” Manda wore her old slouch hat so low on her forehead, her eyes were invisible.
“Manda, darlin’, where did you get that idea?” Mary Martha wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug them or swat them first.
“Zeb don’t want to stay here. You and Pastor Solberg are . . .”
“Manda MacCallister, for cryin’ out loud . . .” Zeb took his hat off and scrubbed a frustrated hand through his hair, sending it flying every which way.
“If that don’t beat all.” Haakan shook his head.
“So, we’re leavin’, and that’s that.”
“That’s not that!” The horse threw up its head at Zeb’s roar. “I’m your father, and I say you are coming home to where you belong. Now!” He climbed back on his horse and tugged on the reins of the other. “Come on horse, git up.”
“Zeb.” Mary Martha rode up beside him. “Please.”
“All right.”
Mary Martha dismounted and stood beside the girl’s horse. “Look, Manda, Deborah, Pastor Solberg and I are good friends and . . .”
Manda’s snort could be heard a mile away across the prairie.
“Whatever happens, you are our family, and families stick together. No matter how hard the times are.”
“I told you so.” Deborah slid to the ground and clutched Mary Martha around the waist. “I want to go home.”
Bridget had a hot meal ready for them when they returned somewhere around midnight, thanks to a full moon that seemed to lead the way.
“Now, you got to promise me you won’t do such a numskulled thing again, you hear?” Zeb looked Manda right in the eye. “You are my daughter, my eldest daughter, and one I expect to have some sense. You got somethin’ to say, you just say it. MacCallisters don’t run away, and I know the Nortons don’t neither.”
Manda looked from Zeb to Mary Martha and back. She locked her arms over her skinny chest and glared at them both. “I’ll stay.”
“Promise?”
“I said I would. That’s enough!”
“And I know you don’t go back on your word.” Mary Martha laid her hands on Manda’s shoulders. “Child, you gave us such a fright.” She laid her cheek on top of Manda’s head and felt the girl sigh and lean slightly back.
“I’d think someone smart as you would have at least taken a decent horse.” Zeb wagged a finger at her.
“I weren’t takin’ nothing not my own.”
“Manda, listen to me and listen right good. All that I have is yours. This place and all the stock and everything is ours. Do you understand? That’s what family is.”
Manda gave him her “I’ll-wait-and-see” look, but her back no longer looked as though she wore a suit of armor holding her upright.
The following Sunday afternoon, a day brighter than a shiny new penny, Pastor Solberg rode into the yard at the MacCallister ranch. He looped his horse’s reins over the fence post and strode up the steps, knocking on the door with only the slightest hesitation.
“Why, J—Pastor Solberg. Come on in.” Mary Martha stepped back and motioned him in.
“Later maybe. Right now I thought you and I could go for a ride, just the two of us.” He stammered over the last words.
“Why, I guess that would be all right. Zeb and the girls are out at the corral.”
Within minutes a horse was saddled for her, and Zeb held it while she stepped up on a block and slid her foot into the stirrup. Settling her skirts about her legs, she took up the reins. “Thank you. We won’t be gone long.”
“Take your time.” Zeb winked at her.
She could feel the heat rush up her neck and wash over her face. The urge to pull his hat brim down over his eyes made her fingers twitch. Instead, she reined the horse around and trotted out of the yard.
“Where would you like to go?” She lifted her face to the sun. How wonderful it felt, and so different from a week ago.
“How about over to the Park River?”
“Fine with me.” They kicked their horses into a prairie-ea
ting lope, throwing mud up behind them. Reaching the river, they stopped side by side.
“Come, I have something for you.” John dismounted and tied his horse to a low branch.
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
Mary Martha rolled her eyes and shook her head, then dismounted as he asked. “Now what is it?”
He beckoned her with one finger and eased his way down the bank. Quickly he snapped off a couple of willow branches and handed them to her. “See, the pussy willows are out. Spring is really here.”
Mary Martha stroked the soft fuzz with a gentle fingertip. “How lovely they are.” She looked up to see him studying her face. “Thank you.”
“I wanted to find violets, but . . .” He shrugged. “They aren’t in bloom yet, and I can’t wait any longer.”
“Wait for what?” Her fingers kept stroking the soft fur while she studied his face.
“For you.”
The words hung on the air, light as thistledown. A bird sang in the branches near the frozen river.
She began shaking her head.
“Is it that you don’t love me enough, then?” John gripped her hands with all the fierceness of his soul.
She shook her head. No, it is that I am afraid you don’t love me, that you still have Katy in your heart. How could she ask him such a question? The tears he’d shed at the funeral—were they for all those he buried or for Katy? A lump blocked her throat. She wanted to reach out and smooth away the lines from his forehead, but she feared this last winter had written them there permanently.
“What then?”
Mary Martha pushed away the Mary side of her and let the practical Martha come forth. She sucked in a deep breath. Now or never. If he answers wrong, I will return to my mother’s house and take up my life there. The thought brought tears burning in her eyes, making her sniff.
“Dear girl, what is it?”
She looked him in the eye in spite of her mother’s voice, which she could hear accusing her of unwomanly behavior. A scandalized voice that knew of her intentions.
“Did you love Katy Bjorklund?”
John stood straight and inhaled deeply, as if she’d gut-punched him. His eyes bored into hers. “Ja, I thought so.” She’d never know what the admission cost him.
“Oh.” She started to withdraw, but he kept her hands in a beartrap grip.
“You asked did ? I did, but she never looked on me as more than a friend. She married Zeb, and I prayed that I could be her friend, their friend. And God honored that prayer. And then He gave me the desire of my heart. A woman to love in ways I’d only dreamed of. One who has a soul of such beauty that I am awestruck to think she might love me in return. One who makes me laugh, and when I watch her with the children, makes me yearn to have her caring for mine, for ours. Yes, Mary Martha MacCallister, I did love Katy, but that is in the past. Now I love you, and I want to learn to love you more every day for the rest of my life.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks, turning her eyes to emeralds sparkling in the sun.
He wiped them away with a gentle fingertip. “So, now the questions are—”
“Qu . . . questions?” She sniffed and tried to smile, but her lips quivered in the action.
“Yes, questions. Number one: do you love me?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
She swallowed. “I love you, John Solberg.” She squeezed his hands in return. “The next question?” Her heart fluttered like a bird learning to fly.
“Will you marry me?”
“Not today.” Her smile went straight to his heart and nestled there. “Or tomorrow, but would next week be soon enough?”
He gathered her into his arms, raining kisses on her eyes, her cheeks, and finally he found her mouth.
“If I’d known you tasted so sweet, I would have done this plenty sooner,” he whispered against her lips.
She sighed and leaned her forehead against his chin. “I still don’t know what will happen with Zeb and the girls.”
“If they need to come live with us, that’s all right with me.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“In a one-room soddy?”
“Well, we might have to build a house. But there will always be room for one more at our table.” He settled back against the tree bark, drawing her head down on his shoulder. “I don’t ever want to say good-bye to you again, my love.”
“But, as I said before, good-bye is not forever.”
“Thank God for that.” He kissed her again and leaned back to watch her sparkling eyes. And thank you, Father, for your tender mercies in our lives—now and forever. This time she kissed him.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Tender Mercies Page 29