by Janette Oke
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Chapter Two
Birthday Dinner
"Thet was a lovely dinner, Clae," Marty remarked, delicately catching the last traces of birthday cake crumbs from her lips with the tip of her tongue. Clare's groan as he held his full stomach was eloquent. Josh laughed.
As the plates were pushed back and second cups of coffee were poured, the pleasant clamor of visiting began. It seemed that everyone had something to say all at once, including the children. Clark held up his hands for silence and finally drew the attention of the group.
"Hold it," he chuckled, "ain't nobody gonna hear nobody in all this racket. How 'bout a little organization here?"
Nandry's oldest, Tina, giggled. "Oh, Grandpa, how can one org'nize chatter?"
"Can I go now? Can I go play with Uncle Arnie?" Andrew interrupted, the only boy in the family of Nandry and Josh.
"Just before we all leave the table and scatter who-knowswhere, how about if we let Grandma open up her birthday gifts?" asked Clae.
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"Oh, yes! Let's. Let's!" shouted the children, clapping their hands. Presents were always fun, even if they were for someone else.
Grandma Marty was given a chair of honor and the gifts began to arrive, carried in and presented by various hands. The children shared scraps of art work and pictures. Tina had even hemmed, by hand stitch, a new handkerchief. Nandry and Clae, presenting gifts from their families, laughed when they realized that they had both sewn Marty new aprons. Clare and Arnie had gone together and purchased a new teapot, declaring that now she could "git rid of thet ol' one with the broken spout." Ellie's gift to her mother was a delicate cameo brooch, and Marty suspected that Clark had contributed largely to its purchase. Luke was last. His eyes showed both eagerness and embarrassment as he came slowly forward. It was clear that he was just a bit uncertain as to how the others would view his gift.
"It didn't cost nothin'," he murmured.
"Thet isn't what gives a gift its value," Marty replied, both curious and concerned.
"I know thet you always said thet, but some folk--wellthey think thet ya shouldn't give what cost ya nothin'."
"Ah," said Clark, seeming to realize what was bothering the boy, "but the cost is not always figured in dollars and cents. To give of yerself sometimes be far more costly than reachin' into one's pocket fer cash."
Luke smiled and seemed to feel more at ease as he pushed his clumsy package toward Marty.
"Ya said thet ya liked 'em, so--"
He shrugged and backed away so that his mother could open her gift.
Heavy and bulky, it was wrapped in brown paper and tied at the top with store twine. Marty could not imagine what kind of a gift could come in such a package. She untied the twine with trembling fingers and let the brown paper fall stiffly to the floor. Before her eyes were two small shrubs, complete with roots and part of the countryside in which they had grown. Marty recognized them at once as small bushes from
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the hill country. She had exclaimed over them when she had seen them in full bloom one summer when she and Clark had taken the youngsters into the hills for a family outing. How beautiful they had looked in their dress of scarlet blossoms. She caught her breath in a little gasp as she visualized the beautiful shrubs blooming in her own garden.
"Do you think thet they'll grow okay, Pa?" Luke's anxiety showed in his voice. "I tried to be as careful as I could in diggin' 'em up. Tried to be sure to keep from hurtin' the roots an'--"
"We'll give 'em the best possible care an' try to match their home growin' conditions as much as possible," Clark assured Luke; then he continued almost under his breath, "--iffen I have to haul their native soil from them hills by the wagonload."
Marty couldn't stop the tears this time. It was so much like Luke. He had traveled many miles and had gone to a great deal of work and care in order to present to her the shrubs that he knew she loved. And yet he had stood in embarrassment before his family, his eyes begging them to please try to understand his gift and the reason for his giving it. She pulled him gently to her and hugged him close. Luke wasn't too fond of motherly kisses in public places, so Marty refrained from embarrassing him further.
"Thank you, son. I can hardly wait fer them to bloom."
Luke grinned and moved back into the family circle.
All eyes then turned to Clark. It had become traditional that the final gift to be given at family gatherings was always from the head of the home. Clark cleared his throat now and stood to his feet.
"Well, my gift ain't as pretty as some thet sit here. It'll never bloom in years to come either. But it does come with love, an' I hope it be somethin' thet truly gives ya pleasure. No fancy package--jest this here little envelope."
He handed the plain brown envelope to Marty. Marty turned it over in her hand, looking for some writing that would indicate what she was holding. There was nothing.
"Open it, Gran'ma," came a small voice, echoed by many others.
"
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Marty carefully tore off one corner, slit the envelope open, and let the contents fall into her lap--two pieces of paper and on them words in Clark's handwriting. Marty picked up the first. Aloud she read the message, "This is for the new things that you be needing. Just let me know when and where you want to do the shopping."
"Ya should have read the other one first," interjected Clark.
Marty picked up the second slip of paper. It read, "Arrangements have been made for tickets on the train to Missie. We leave--"
Tickets to go to Missie! All of Marty's thoughts and longings centered on their daughter so many miles away. The recent "if onlys" crowded in around her. She was going to see Missie again. "Oh, Clark!" was all she could manage, and then she was in his arms sobbing for the wonder of it--the pure joy of the promise the tickets held.
When she finally could control herself, she stepped back from Clark's embrace. With a happy smile but trembling lips, Marty said apologetically to her family, "I think thet I need me a little walkin' time, an' then we're gonna sit us down an' talk all 'bout this--" She did well to get that far without more tears, and she left the cozy kitchen filled with the family she loved and walked out into the June sunshine.
Here at Clae's there was no place in particular to go, so she wandered aimlessly. She found herself yearning for the familiar trees and little spring behind her own house. She had gone there so many times over the years when she had some thinking to do. Well, Clae's trees would suffice. Marty certainly did have some thinking to do. She tried to collect her scattered, excited thoughts. She was going to Missie! She and Clark would travel those many miles on the train. No wagons--no slow days of wind and rain. Only padded seats and chugging engines eating up the distance between her little girl and herself. Oh, she could hardly wait! She held up the note that she still held in her hand and read it again. "Arrangements have been made for tickets on the train to Missie. We leave as soon as you can be ready to go. Love, Clark."
As soon as you can be ready to go. Oh, my. There was so
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much to be done. So many things to prepare and take with them. There was her wardrobe. She would need new things for traveling. Why, her blue hat would never do to wear out among stylish people, and her best dress had a small snag near the hem that still showed even though she had mended it carefully. Oh, my. How would she ever--? And then Marty remembered the second note. "This is for the new things that you be needing. Just let me know when and where you want to do the shopping." "Oh, my," Marty said aloud. Clark had thought of everything, it appeared. "Oh, my," she repeated and quickly changed directions back to Clae's kitchen. She must talk to the girls. They were far more aware of the present fashion trends, and they knew what stores carried the needed articles, and they knew where she would need to go to do her shopping and when the stages ran between the towns. "Oh, my," she said again in a flurry, "I do have me so much to do. Oh, my."
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Chapter Three
Planning
The days that followed were busy ones for Marty. Nandry and Clae went shopping with her for yard goods in their small town and then pored over design sketches that Clae made in an effort to achieve fashionable gowns. It was finally concluded that a trip to a larger center would be necessary if Marty were to be presentable to the outside world on a cross-country train trip. But when could she work that into this busy time? Though her wardrobe consumed much of Marty's time and attention, there were other matters that weighed heavily on her mind as well. One of them was the fact that Clare had wedding plans. As yet, the definite date for the marriage had not been set, but how could they go way off west not knowing? Marty held her tongue, but she did try to "plant the seed" in Clare's thinking that it would be most helpful if his young lady could finalize a date. Clare understood the subtle suggestion and told Marty he would see what he could do.
Marty was also anxious about her packing. Every day she thought of something new that surely Missie and Willie and
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their young family might need. How much dare she accumulate before the train company--or Clark--would declare that she had far too much baggage? She sighed as she tried to select the most important items.
Clark occasionally tried to draw from Marty an estimated day for departure. She knew that a decision must be made. Clark had many responsibilities of his own that needed to be assigned to others. He couldn't properly sort them out until Marty had given him some kind of idea as to when she would be ready to go. She didn't know whether to hope that Clare would set the wedding date for immediately or postpone it until they were sure to be back.
Then, of course, there were the other children. True, Ellie was capable of caring for the household, but it seemed like a big job to put on such slender shoulders. Marty conveniently forgot that at Ellie's age she had already been a married woman.
Yet Marty's heart was most concerned for Luke, her gentle youngest. How she wished that she could take him with her. At the same time, she was afraid to suggest it, even to Clark. What if Luke did go, and what if he decided that he liked Missie's West, and what if he decided not to come back when Clark and Marty returned home? No, she'd best leave Luke safely where he was. She had no desire to have another child so far away from home.
So Marty spent her days musing and fretting. She tried not to let it show, but it did. Each of the family noticed it and finally decided that something needed to be done or Marty would wear herself out. Nandry and Clae made arrangements for the care of their children and planned a trip to the city by local stagecoach for shopping. Ellie was invited to go along. The necessary items were purchased and prepared for travel. Marty was afraid she was spending an inappropriate amount of Clark's money, but she did rather enjoy this unusual extravagance. She purchased a few pretty things to take to Missie as well. Who knew whether Missie had had opportunity to shop at all since leaving her home?
Clare discussed his marriage plans with his sweet Kate and, with the help of her mother, they were able to arrive at a
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suitable date. They wisely agreed that a hurried wedding would not be a good start for their marriage, so August 27 was chosen. Clark and Marty would have no problem being home by then. Clare and Kate planned to live in Clark's first little log home, so Clare would spend the intervening time preparing the place for occupancy, and Kate would spend her time on new curtains and floor rugs.
Ellie asked many questions and advice on the running of the home and the tending of the garden--questions to which she already knew the answers, but she knew that it would help her mother depart with greater peace of mind if she explained it all again. Ellie assured Marty that she was looking forward to the experience, and Marty felt that it might truly be an adventure for the girl. Nandry and Clae promised to lend a hand if ever she needed assistance.
Luke took to making subtle comments on the coming separation. He suggested that it would be good for all of them to spend some time on their own and learn some independence. He pointed out to Marty that he would be spending most evenings studying for the entrance exams for college the coming fall and he would have very little time for socializing even with family members; the additional quiet of the house during their absence would be very helpful in giving him extra study time. Marty sensed that he was trying to put her mind at ease about going off and leaving him, and she appreciated his concern.
Many times a day Marty went through the mental sorting of what she wished to take. She eyed her garden, her canned goods, her sewing materials, her chicken coop--she even eyed the milk cows. She shook her head. How in the world would she ever decide? At length, she knew that she could never be sensible, so she asked for help from her family in the final decision. Eventually it was narrowed down to a list over which Clark did not mournfully shake his head.
At length Clark was given the go-ahead. He could set a date for departure. It seemed that within a few more days, Marty could be ready to go.
"When are ya leavin'?" asked Ma Graham when they had a minute together after the church service.
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Marty was relieved that she actually had a date.
"Well, we take the stage out from town on Wednesday, and go on over to catch the train out of the city the next mornin'," she replied.
"Ain't ya excited?" Ma asked, but didn't need nor wait for an answer. "My, I miss thet girl of yourn so much myself thet I can jest imagine how yer feelin'. Give Missie a big kiss an' hug fer me. I have a little somethin' here thet I want ya to take on out to her. I didn't dare send nothin' big--ya havin' so much of yer own stuff to tend to, so I jest made her a little lace doilie fer her table."
Marty hugged Ma warmly, the tears shining in her eyes. "Missie will 'preciate it so much," she said.
And so the packing of the crates, cases, and trunk was done; the clothes for travel carefully laid out; and the scattered items and thoughts collected. Many last-minute instructions, some necessary and some only for Marty's sake, were given to the three boys and Ellie. There was some measure of assurance in just reviewing them over and over.
Clare and Arnie had been farming right along with Clark for a number of years, so Clark had no doubts about their ability to care for things. They each had a piece of their own land to farm now, too, but they could handle it all in Clark's absence. They had been instructed to get help if ever they needed it, and Luke was anxious to be all the help that his studying time would allow.
It was understood without actually being discussed that Luke probably would never be a farmer. He had a very keen mind and a sensitive spirit and was presently leaning toward the idea of being a medical doctor. Clark and Marty felt he would be a great honor to them as a doctor, but Luke was not pushed for a commitment on his future.
And so the farming was left to the boys and the kitchen to Ellie. Marty knew that she was quite able to care for the needs of the brothers; still Marty fretted some as she thought of all the work ahead for the young girl.
The day of their departure dawned clear and bright. The warm sunshine spilled down upon the waking world. Marty
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was up even before Clark and, in her excitement, flitted about caring for last-minute things that really needed no attention. Her efforts were not totally without value, for it did give her something to do until it was time for them to load into the spring-seated wagon and head for town.
Their four children from home accompanied them, and when they arrived--too early--at the stagecoach offices, Nandry and Josh and their family, and Clae and Joe and Esther Sue were already there.
The excitement was felt by everyone and resulted in too many talking at once, too much nervous activity, and too many near-wild children. Clark grinned at the whole tension- filled bunch of them and called a halt to the bustle of activity and noisy chatter.
"Whoa," he called, lifting up his hand, his signal for quiet. "How 'bout we see iffen we can git a little order out of this confusion?" Everyone stopped mid-sentence and
mid-step and then began to laugh.
"I suggest," went on Clark, "thet we go on over to the hotel an' have us a cup of coffee an' a sandwich. Be a heap quieter, an' we still have lots of time to kill before this here stage is gonna be leavin'." Eventually they all fell into line and headed for the hotel and the promised coffee. Josh broke line, whispered to Nandry and then fished in his pocket.
"Tina, yer ma says it be okay fer ya to take these here little ones over to the General Store fer a candy treat. It being a special day, how 'bout ya all git two pieces of yer favorite kind."
Shouts of approval answered him, and he passed Tina the coins. She took Mary and Esther Sue by the hands and headed for the promised treat. Andrew disdained holding hands and marched off on his own. Baby Jane was content to be held in her mother's arms and to put up with the grown-ups while they visited over coffee cups.
When they finally were seated and had placed their orders, the talking did become a bit more orderly. They even waited for one another to finish their sentences before breaking in. Marty knew that her churning stomach had no interest in a sandwich. She ordered a cup of tea and sipped at it now and
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then between her involvement in the talk and laughter. The men ordered sandwiches and even pieces of pie to go with them. Marty wondered fleetingly how they ever managed it, only a few hours since they had downed a big breakfast.
Departure time seemed to be in no hurry to come. The food had been eaten; the cups drained, replenished, and drained again; the same admonitions given and repeated; and the same assurances spoken over and over. Marty fidgeted in her seat. Clark at last said that he supposed they could go on out and check on the progress of the stagecoach.