by Janette Oke
Why, he don't be lookin' any older than my Luke, Marty thought compassionately. Suppose he's come on out here all by hisself an' don't know where he's goin' or what he'll find when he gits there.
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Marty was about to ask Clark if there wasn't something they could do for the youngster when the train stopped and the boy disappeared in the crowd.
They climbed down the steps from the train, looked around quickly, and moved toward the dusty new sidewalk. The boards had not fully weathered yet, and they were newer than the town. Marty noticed the buildings were recently built, but many of them looked like they had been constructed in a big hurry and with the cheapest material available; little attention was given to fanciness.
Marty's eyes turned to the scores and scores of bawling cattle milling around in the corrals to the right of the tracks, kicking up dust and drowning out all other noises. Yes, this was a cattle town, to be sure.
Marty was not interested in buildings or cattle--only people. She was busy scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Missie.
Dust-covered cowboys--and equally dust-covered horses--moved back and forth on the main street, wide hats almost hiding the features of their faces. A number of ladies walked by, none of them in hats but wearing cheap and practical bonnets or nothing on their heads at all.
Marty was trying to stay close to Clark through the crushing passengers from the incoming train, all the while straining her eyes for the first sight of Missie, when a deep voice drawled beside them, " 'Scuse me, sir, but do you folks be the Davises?"
Marty looked up at the cowboy who stood beside them, hat in hand.
"Shore are," replied Clark.
"Right glad to meet ya, sir--ma'am. I'm Scottie, foreman for the LaHayes, an' I been sent to meet this here train." Marty felt her heart sink with disappointment. Missie was not here.
Clark set down a case so that he could extend a hand. "Glad to meet ya, Mister Scott."
Scottie did not correct him.
"I'd be happy to take ya on over to the hotel, ma'am, and let ya freshen up some. It's gonna be a bit of a ride to the ranch. Then we'll collect yer things an' be off."
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"I'd like thet," replied Marty, and they followed Scottie down the street.
"Mrs. LaHaye is most bustin' with eagerness. She could hardly stand it thet she ain't here to meet ya herself. Never know when this here train is finally gonna pull in. This one was scheduled to be in here yesterday. 'Course, one day late ain't so bad. Sometimes it's been as much as five. A little hard fer her to stand around waitin' with two little ones in tow--ya know what I mean?"
Scottie didn't wait for an answer.
"Boss, he came into town to check yesterday--brought the whole family, jest in case the train happened to be on time. Well, she warn't. He sent me on in today. He was gonna give it another try tomarra. Missus will be right glad thet it won't be necessary."
Marty was glad, too. Mercy me, she thought, I'd a-never stood it if we'd been five days late--and neither would Missie!
They entered the small hotel, and Scottie spoke to the man at the desk. Marty was shown to a room. It was not fancy, but it was clean. Marty was glad for a fresh supply of water for a good wash. The men left again to go pick up the baggage from the train station. Marty prayed that everything had arrived--and safely.
She couldn't help but feel disappointed and empty. She had thought when she arrived in this little town that her long wait to see Missie would be over. But of course Scottie was right. It would have been very foolish for Missie to make the long trip every day, not having any idea when the train might actually arrive.
The room seemed cool in spite of the warm weather, and after Marty's wash she lay down on the bed, promising herself that she'd just rest for a few minutes while she waited for Clark and Mister Scottie to come.
Clark found her sleeping when he returned and was tempted to leave quietly and allow her to get some much-needed rest; but he felt that she would never forgive him if he did, so he roused her gently and said Scottie was ready to take them in for a little to eat before they headed for the ranch.
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Marty was hungry, but she did begrudge even the time spent in eating. They hurried with their dinner, because Scottie too was anxious to get back to the ranch.
Marty sat in the wagon on a seat that had been especially fashioned for her by Willie and made as comfortable as possible. Clark sat up with Scottie. Scottie was not a great talker, but he was generous in answering any questions; Marty paid no attention to the conversation. Nor did she particularly watch the passing scenery. Her mind was totally on Missie, wondering how much reserve the passing years might have put between mother and daughter. Would they still be able to share feelings and thoughts, or would the years and the experiences have closed some doors for them? Marty felt a little fear grip at her heart. And what about Missie's children, her grandchildren? Would they see her as only a stranger they did not particularly welcome to their world? The questions and doubts persisted until her mind was seething with anxieties as they rumbled along. Clark turned back to check on her now and then, and she managed to give him a shaky smile. She hoped he didn't notice her edginess.
And then they came over a hill, and Scottie pulled up the team. "There's the boss's spread, right down there," he said, pride coloring his voice. It was evident that he felt a measure of ownership in the ranch, just by his association. Marty's heart skipped. Right down there! Right before her very eyes was their Missie's home. Marty saw a large, sprawling, gray stone home. Soft smoke curled up from the chimney. Off to one side, she could see a garden and a very small stream flowing away from a rocky embankment. She let her eyes seek out the pen with the chickens, the seeming miles of corrals, the bunkhouse and cookshack, and, yes, there on the other side was a straw-colored mound. That must be Missie's soddy. Marty's eyes filled with tears, and she had an impulse to jump from the wagon and run down the hill. Remarkably, she held herself in check; Scottie clucked to the team and they moved forward.
Whether it was Scottie's driving, or Marty's wishful thinking, or the eagerness of the team to return to their stalls,
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Marty never knew for sure; but the remainder of the trip down the long, winding hill went more quickly.
At the bottom of the hill, Scottie "whoaed" the horses and handed the reins to Clark. "I'll jest be gettin' on back to my duties," he said. "You'll be a-wantin' to make yer greetin's in private," he added as he stepped down from the wagon.
"And many thanks to ya fer yer welcome an' fer drivin' us this long way," Clark said warmly. Scottie tipped his hat to them and moved off toward the barn. Marty climbed up beside Clark for a better view of the house as the horses moved forward. A flash of red calico in a window, and then . . . there was Missie, her arms opened wide and her face streaming with tears, running toward them calling their names. Marty ran to embrace her beloved daughter. They held each other close, crying and laughing and repeating over and over tender, senseless endearments.
At last, at last, sang Marty's heart. At last I have my "if only."
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Chapter Eight
Introductions
The hours that followed were wild with excited chatter and activity. The two grandsons had immediately captivated their new-found grandparents. Marty was so thankful they moved forward to them without hesitation and even allowed hugging. Nathan beamed his pleasure. He was all ready to "take over" the entertainment of the two special people in his mother's life. "Mama said I could show ya my room," and "Mama said you'd go ridin' with me, Grandpa," and "Mama said you'd like to see my own pony," and "Mama said you'd read to me sometimes." Missie laughed, and Marty realized that she had been carefully preparing her children for the adventure of meeting their grandparents.
Josiah was too young to be as active in the conversation, but he pulled at coattails and jerked at hands and insisted on "Up!" Marty was thrilled with how quickly the two boys felt at ease with their grandparents.
When Josiah did manage to steal a scene from Nathan, he was full of chatter of "See this," and "Do you like my. . . ?" and "Lookit, G'amma." For Clark
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and Marty, their hearts were captured on sight by two small boys.
The whole house was filled with happy sounds as Missie proudly showed them from room to room. Marty exclaimed over the comfort, the coolness, and the attractiveness of the big stone house. They had entered through wide, double doors into a large, cool hall. The floor was of polished stone, and the inside walls were textured white stucco. Missie had used paintings with Spanish-Mexican influence to decorate the walls and had placed an old Spanish bench of white wrought iron against one wall. The bench had cushions of a flower- print material and Missie had picked up the shade of green in them to highlight little finishing touches in the room, a pleasing and cool effect. The living room was large and airy with a mammoth stone fireplace and deep red and gold fabrics on the furnishings. The draperies, of matching material, were tied back with gold cords. It too looked Spanish and--thought Marty--very rich. The floor was dark-stained wood, and the walls were, like the entry, textured stucco. Scattered across the polished wooden floors were deep-colored rugs--not the homemade variety but storebought. The pictures and lamps were Spanish--and elegant, with blacks, reds, and golds predominant. Marty viewed in awe. Never had she seen such a room.
On they moved to the dining area. "And," said Missie, with a wave of her hand and a laugh, "that's as far as we've been able to go with our grandness. From here on, it's common livin'. But it'll come, little by little, with each cattle shipment."
Missie gestured toward a long, homemade trestle table which easily seated eight. "Willie has promised me some dining room chairs an' a real table this fall." Though the chairs were comfortable enough, they were not matched or of good quality. The white-stuccoed walls were quite bare, and inexpensive curtains hung at the windows. A simple cabinet against the far wall held the good dishes that Marty had insisted Missie take west. Somehow the simple, homey room put Marty's heart at ease; the differences now between them might not be so great after all.
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"Oh, Missie, I'm so proud of you and so happy for you!" she exclaimed with a quick hug. Clark's approving grin echoed that sentiment.
The bedrooms were all big and roomy, but, again, the furnishings here were simple and the curtains and spreads and the rugs on the floor were all homemade. Marty recognized many things that she had helped to fashion.
Missie led them to the other wing, the kitchen area of the house. Marty was surprised when Missie stopped at the door and gave a brief rap, then walked in. A wiry little Chinese man was busily engaged in preparations for the evening meal. Marty had not known that Missie had a cook.
"Wong," said Missie, "this is my pa, my mama."
The Chinese man favored them with a big grin and bobbed his head up and down as he acknowledged the introductions.
"How'do, how'do," he said over and over. "Wong pleased with pleasure. How'do, how'do."
Clark and Marty both answered with smiles.
"Wong is trying hard to learn our difficult English," Missie explained while Wong beamed at them. "He has done very well in a short time. He does not need to learn how to cook. He knew all about cookin' when he came. Every rancher hereabouts envies us and hopes for an invitation often to eat his delicious food."
Wong bobbed his head again with pleasure and led them around the large kitchen. Marty had never seen so much working room. The stove was big, too, and Wong proudly lifted the covers from several steaming kettles, all sending forth delicious odors.
Missie led her parents down a hall and toward a back door. "I had me no idea thet ya had a cook. My, my," remarked Marty.
"Wong has not been with us for long," Missie answered. "At first, I thought that Willie was being silly to suggest it, but I wonder now why I even tried to fight it. Wong is so much help. He helps with the laundry, too. It gives me more time for the children, and I still have plenty to keep me busy with this big house. I'm glad that we have him--an' it gives him a job an' a home as well. Nathan and Josiah adore him. But it made
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Cookie terribly jealous at first," Missie continued. "He was so afraid that someone else would take his place with our boys. But the two rascals have managed to keep both of the men happy. Actually, the two cooks seem to really enjoy one another now. Most evenings they get together for a cup of coffee and a chat. In fact, Cookie is the one who volunteered to teach Wong English."
Missie's long speech had brought them to the patio at the back of the house. The front, the bedroom wing on the one side, and the kitchen wing on the other, surrounded this lovely area on three sides. The fourth side looked out toward the spring beyond Missie's flower beds. When Marty remarked on their beauty, Missie informed her that they were all flowers she had taken from the neighboring hills, except for the bed of roses. Scottie, a little red-faced, had presented her with them when he had returned from purchasing some choice livestock farther south.
The sheltered veranda between the patio and the house was shaded and cool even in the late-afternoon heat. Marty imagined what a pleasant place this would be to spend an afternoon sewing or reading to the children. She was very impressed with the home that Willie had built for Missie. She was pleased with their good taste, and she admired Missie's choice of color and texture in the rich-looking "new" area of the house. Also, it said to Marty that times were good, that Missie and Willie were making upward strides in their standard of living. The homier, simple furnishings in the remainder of the house also spoke to Marty. These told her that they were willing to wait, to build gradually, to not demand everything at once, showing maturity and good judgment. Marty was proud of them--both of them.
After the look through the house, Willie invited Clark out to see the barns and stock, and Missie took Marty to show her the garden, the spring, her chickens and the little soddy.
The boys were now frustrated. Nathan, who clung to Grandma's hand, didn't like to leave her to go with the men, but he was most anxious to show off his pony. Josiah, who had been riding on Grandpa's shoulder, hated to climb down but
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did not want to get too far away from his mother. Besides, he absolutely adored the chickens! After some complaints from both of the children, the three "men" headed for the barn, and the women and the younger son took the path to the garden.
Marty was pleased at the sight of Missie's garden. True, it wasn't as far along as her own had been on the farm back east, but the plants looked healthy and productive and Marty could see that many good meals would be coming from the little patch.
The water from the spring was not as ambitious as the spring back home, but the effect that it had on the area surrounding it outweighed the difference. All around were brown hills and wind-swept prairies, but here near the spring were green growing things and small, shivering-leafed trees--truly an "oasis."
Missie briskly led the way to the chicken pen. Forty or fifty hens squawked and squabbled in the enclosure. They looked healthy enough, and Missie assured her mother that they were very good egg producers.
Josiah immediately began hollering at the chickens, attempting to throw handfuls of grass and dirt at them through the wire. Since the wind was blowing from the wrong direction, most of it blew right back into Josiah's face, so Missie put a stop to the activity. Josiah was quick to obey, blinking dust from his eyes.
As they moved on toward the unassuming soddy, Marty noticed that Missie referred to it with love and even joy, a fact that Marty found very difficult to understand. Missie pushed open the rough wooden door and they entered the dim little sod shack. When Marty's eyes had adjusted, she could make out the bed in the corner, the black iron stove that still remained right where it had been, the small table and the two stools.
Marty gazed all around her, from the simple furnishings to the sod roof and the packed-dirt floor.
This is th
e "home" that waited for you after that long, hard trip? An' ya actually lived here, Marty thought incredulously. Ya actually lived in this little shack--an' with a baby! How
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could ya ever do it? How could ya stand to live in such a way?
My, I--"
But Missie was speaking: "Willie wanted to tear it down, to get it out of here, but I wouldn't hear tell. Got a lot of memories, this little place. We've had to re-sod the roof a couple of times. Roofs don't last too long with the winter storms, the wind an' rain; an' once they start to leak, they aren't good for anything."
Marty did not express her feeling about the soddy. Instead she expressed her feeling for her girl. "I'm so proud of you, Missie--so proud. I hoped to bring ya up to be able to make a happy home fer the one thet ya learned to love. An' ya did. Ya looked beyond these here dirt walls into the true heart of the home. Home ain't fancy dishes an' such, Missie. Home is love and carin'. Remember when I insisted on those fancy dishes, Missie? I said thet you'd be so glad fer them someday. So I fussed 'bout ya takin"em even though ya really had no room fer 'em an' could have taken somethin' more sensible in the room thet they took in the wagon. Well, I was wrong, Missie." Marty's hand touched her daughter's cheek. "I was wrong, an' you were right. Home ain't dishes, frills, an' such, Missie. Home is love an' carin'. You showed me thet ya could truly make a home an' ya could do it with jest yer own hands an' yer own heart. I'm proud of ya. So very proud."
Missie's answering smile was understanding as Marty wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked around once more before leaving the small sod shack; this time it did not look as bleak, nor the floor as earthy. In those few short minutes, something had happened which changed the appearance of the little room.