by Janette Oke
Donations for materials or for labor came in from many of the neighbors. Willie and Henry were sure that when a building was finally in evidence, the Sunday attendance would increase sharply.
Cookie still dropped in to see Clark often. Marty was sure that he waited until he saw her heading for Missie's for a chat
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over a cup of tea, and then he would hobble off to have a cup of coffee with Clark in her absence. Clark did not discuss with her much of their conversation--Marty knew that Clark honored Cookie's desire for confidence; yet Marty realized that the old cowboy was deeply troubled about his past life and its effect on his future. Marty wanted to hasten "the awakening" and say outright to Cookie, "So yer a sinner an' ya realize thet yer bad deeds can keep ya from heaven. I was a sinner, too. But one needn't stay in thet state. Christ Jesus came so thet every person could be forgiven and restored to all that God intended when He created us. All ya need do, Cookie, is to accept the gift of life that He offers to ya. It's jest thet simple. Nothin' to it at all. No need to be a-frettin' an' a-stewin' over whether it be a good idea or a bad idea. Common sense tells ya thet ya can't lose on such a deal. Jest do it an' git it taken care
of.
Clark was far more patient with the man and explained carefully what Scripture had to say about the original fall into sin and selfishness, man's need of a Savior, and God's solution to this need. Cookie was gradually realizing his need and understanding what Christ had done for him. Clark felt confident that when Cookie made his decision, there would be no turning back. Still, Marty inwardly chafed, wishing it wouldn't take him so long.
Scottie, too, was on the Davises' prayer list. They liked and respected the foreman, and they wished to see him make his peace with God. Scottie came to the Sunday services whenever he was free to do so, but he did not seem to feel any need of a change in his life.
Lane, the one who had helped Doc De la Rosa with the surgery, was growing spiritually. Daily he sought out Clark or Willie for the answer to some question that he found as he read the Word. He not only read the Bible, but he endeavored to live daily by its commands and concepts. Lane could never be accused of being a hypocrite. Even the bitter Smith began to show a grudging respect for Lane and one day admitted to Jake, "Don't hold much to religion. Always figured thet it was fer women an' kids an' men who couldn't stand on their own
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feet; but iffen I was ever to git religion, I'd want the kind thet Lane got."
Jake looked skeptical. "Didn't know there was more'n one kind," he drawled.
"Ya didn't? Then ya ain't been watchin' Lane lately."
"So where did Lane git his special brand?" sneered Jake.
"Reckon he got it from the same place thet the boss an' his pa-in-law got theirs. It seems to be made of the same stuff."
Jake thought of Willie and his steadiness even through the tough times, his fairness with his men, and his concern for his community. He also thought of Clark and his acceptance of his handicap, and he murmured under his breath, "Yah, reckon it is." Then he turned to Smith. "So, iffen they are able to pass it on an' are so anxious to share it, what's stoppin' ya from gittin' yerself some?"
Smith did not answer. He just scowled and rode away.
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Chapter Twenty-five
Christmas
Christmastime arrived, and Marty's thoughts were often on her family at home, even as her thoughts had been on Missie in the Christmases that they had been separated. Kate was there to help Ellie make a Christmas for the family on the farm, and the last letter had stated that Nandry's and Clae's families would both be home for Christmas as well, even though Clark and Marty would not be there. Soon after the new year, Joe and Clae and little Esther would be leaving for the city where Joe would finally have his opportunity to get his seminary training. Marty wished she would be there to tell them good-bye, but it brought a measure of joy to her heart to know that they would be in the very city where Luke eventually would be going to take his medical training. It would not be nearly so hard to let him go knowing that Clae and Joe would be there to welcome him.
Even so, Marty thought much of her other family as she made her little preparations for the Christmas with the family in the West.
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Wong and Cookie combined their efforts to prepare a Christmas feast for all of the members of the ranch family. It was bound to be a sumptuous affair, and everyone--old and young alike--were anticipating the occasion. Marty supposed that they would all eat more than they really needed.
Nathan and Josiah especially had worked themselves up into a fever of excitement. Nathan knew of Christmases past and the thrill of receiving gifts. Josiah was too young to remember other Christmases, but he was willing to take his big brother's word for what would happen.
Marty had busily knitted mittens, socks and scarves for the two boys, and Clark had been carefully fashioning a snow sled. "Shore enough," he told Marty, "with all them hills around, there must be one that a sled would work good on." Marty agreed. Even though they would be many days' journey away from the rest of their family, they were happy to be able to spend this Christmas with Missie, Willie, and the boys.
On Christmas Eve, Marty finished the last of her Christmas presents, and they bundled up their gifts and themselves and went out into the starlit winter night through the snow for the short trip to Missie's house. They had planned an evening of games, Christmas carols, and popcorn over the log fire. The gifts would not be exchanged until the next morning.
Nathan was the one to answer their knock. He squealed with delight, and Josiah was just behind him to echo his joy.
"Hi, Grandpa! Hi, Grandma! Come in. We're havin' Christmas," called Nathan.
"Ch'is'mas," echoed Josiah and pulled them in by the hands.
The evening was full of love and joy. They chatted and ate and played games and sang amid laughter and lighthearted banter. They shared their memories of other Christmases; Nathan loved the stories, but Josiah's heavy lids kept drooping as he fought to stay awake.
Finally Missie rose reluctantly to put the two children to bed. Nathan certainly was not anxious to go, afraid that he might miss something. Missie assured him everything would be there for him to see and share in the morning.
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When the children were settled and the grownups were having coffee and slices of Wong's Christmas cake made from one of Marty's recipes, Missie, her cheeks aglow and her eyes alight, shared her secret.
"Yer to be grandparents again in July," she said. "We're gonna have another little one."
"Oh, thet's wonderful!" stated Marty, hugging her girl close. "But, my, I wish thet it would be sooner! We should be off home long 'fore then, an' it will be so hard to leave without seem' him--or her."
"I'm hopin' fer a girl this time," admitted Missie. "But a boy would be all right too. Willie's always needin' lots of cowboys on the ranch." They laughed together, and Willie looked pleased.
They talked further about their hopes and dreams concerning the new baby. Marty commented about how thankful she was that Dr. De la Rosa would be there for the birthing. And perhaps by then he would also have his little surgery all ready for use.
Clark and Marty, arm in arm, returned with happy steps and joyful hearts over the snow-packed path back to the little soddy. They were just about to enter when Cookie appeared, hobbling hurriedly toward the bunkhouse from the cookshack, a small lantern swinging by his side. Marty assumed he must be going to meet with the cowboys for their own Christmas celebration, but Clark noted an urgency to Cookie's steps.
"Somethin' wrong?" he called to Cookie.
Cookie hesitated. "No, nothin' wrong, really. Least not fer you to concern yerselves with. Scottie jest came ridin' in with some stray cowpoke thet he found out there on the range someplace. Fella's in pretty bad shape. Looks like he ain't e't in a week, an' the weather's kinda on the cold side to be a-sittin' out under a rock outcroppin'. Lane, he went over to see what the doc wo
uld advise fer his frostbite."
Cookie was about to move on, but Clark called to him. "I'll join ya. Don't s'pose there be much thet I can do, but I'll take a look-see."
He turned to Marty and spoke softly, "Ya go on in out of
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this cold to bed. I'll jest be a few minutes an' then I'll be in to join ya. Ya might want to check on the fire ag'in 'fore ya turn in."
Then Clark deftly hopped along after Cookie, his crutch making strange tracks in the fresh snow.
The cowboys had put the unfortunate man to bed, Lane directing them to his bunk before he left for the doctor's. Smithie was using the only medicine that he was acquainted with--a shot of whiskey. The man was sputtering and fussing, so Clark knew he was at least alive.
"Where'd ya find 'im?"
"Scottie found him someplace out there. He didn't even have a horse. Said it had died. He was walkin' somewhere-- who knows where--an' the bad weather caught him. He tried to hole up in a sheltered spot and wait out the wind. He coulda been there till spring and not had the wind stop none."
Clark smiled in spite of his concern. "Is he in bad shape?"
"Don't know yet. He has some frostbite fer sure, an' he's thin as a rattler. 'Bout as mean as one, too, I'm a-thinkin'. All he can do is cuss an' namecall. Don't seem to 'preciate much the trouble thet Scottie took fer 'im."
Clark moved nearer to the bed.
The man before him was heavily bearded and his eyes were only dark holes in his head. Bedraggled and dirty, he looked as though he hadn't had a meal for weeks. Yet something about him was vaguely familiar.
Clark motioned for them to move the lantern in closer, the result being a gruff complaint and a curse from the stranger. Clark looked steadily into the thin, shadowed face and finally was sure.
"Jedd," he said, shaking his head in unbelief. "Jedd Larson."
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Chapter Twenty-six
Jedd
The sick man stirred slightly and mumbled something incoherent. All other eyes in the room turned on Clark. "Ya know this man?" asked Scottie.
"It's Jedd Larson, there's shore no mistakin' thet; but he shore do look in bad shape. Last I seed 'im he was still young and strong--and a mite on the stubborn side. Marty an' me raised his two girls--though it's hard fer us to remember at times thet they ain't really our own. We think of 'em as such."
"Well, I'll be a--" expostulated Cookie, though he was not allowed to finish his statement, for the ill man began to toss and call out in his delirium. Clark leaned over him in an effort to understand what the man was saying. He straightened as he caught the one word that was repeated over and over. Jedd was saying, "Tina."
"Understand 'im?" asked Cookie.
"He's askin' fer his wife. She's been gone fer a number of years now. Can't say thet Jedd treated her too kindly whilst she was here. Maybe he's regrettin' it now."
Clark reached out a hand and felt Jedd's brow, hot with
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fever. He leaned over the man and spoke his name softly. There was no response. Clark knelt down beside the bed and took the man's hand in his. He began to talk to Jedd. The cowboys gradually moved back from the bed to allow the two men a degree of privacy.
"Jedd," Clark said clearly, "Jedd, this is Clark. Clark Davis, yer neighbor. Remember me, Jedd? Clark Davis. Clark and Marty. Ya left yer girls with us, Jedd, when ya decided to go west. Tina wanted 'em to have schoolin'. Tina asked Marty to give the girls a chance, Jedd. Remember? They are fine girls, Jedd, yer Nandry an' Clae. You'd be mighty proud of 'em. Both of 'em married. Nandry has a little family of four. An' Clae's got a little girl. Yer a grandpa, Jedd. A grandpa five times over. You'd be proud of yer grandkids, too, could ya see 'em."
The man was not responding. He stared off into space and now and then mumbled or cursed as the warmth of the room increased the pain in his frostbitten limbs. Clark continued to speak to him, rubbing his hand as he spoke, careful not to touch the frostbitten fingers.
"Jedd, Nandry and Clae still worry 'bout ya. Still pray fer ya daily. They want ya back, Jedd. They want to share with ya their love, their family, their God. Remember, Jedd? Tina found peace with God before she died. Well, yer girls are servin' their mother's God, too, Jedd. There's nothin' thet they would like better then fer you to know God, too. Ya hear me, Jedd? Yer girls love ya. Nandry an' Clae--they love ya. Tina loved ya, an' God loves ya too, Jedd.
"Ya gotta keep fightin', man," Clark continued, speaking softly but with urgency. "Ya can't jest go an' give up now. Hang in there, Jedd."
It seemed to the cowboys in the room that there was hardly a pause in the low murmur of Clark's voice until Lane and the doctor arrived. Dr. De la Rosa examined Jedd carefully and gave him some medication. He shook his head as he turned to Clark and the waiting ranch hands.
"He is in bad shape. He was not well even before he was caught in the storm."
"Will he make it?" asked Clark.
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"I do not know."
"Please, Doc," said Clark, "iffen there is anything at all thet ya can be doin' fer 'im--anything to bring him through-- I'll stand the bill. This here is the father of two girls thet Marty an' me raised as our own. He's been bullheaded and stubborn, thoughtless and sometimes cruel, but his girls love 'im. Iffen only Jedd can live long enough fer someone to tell 'im of God's love an' fergiveness. Thet would mean so much to his girls--to us. Ya think thet ya can bring him 'round, Doc? I jest can't bear the thought of 'im dyin' without my being' able to talk with him about his girls and about God's love for 'im."
Dr. De la Rosa looked very solemn. "I can only try," he said. "You pray that God might work a miracle."
Dr. De la Rosa undoubtedly thought that Clark would go to his little soddy and kneel in prayer, but Clark saw the need as imminent. He immediately knelt beside the bed on which Jedd lay and began to pray fervently for a miracle. Around him feet shuffled as cowboys, uncertain of what to do, shifted position. Lane knew. He crossed to his bunk and knelt down beside Clark, joining him in his prayer.
"Dear God," began Clark, "Ya know this here man before us. He's been sinful, God, but so have we all. He's made some bad judgments, but so have we. He needs Ya, Lord, just as we all do. He has never recognized Ya as God an' Savior, an' he needs thet chance, Lord. He can't hear or respond in his present condition, so we need Ya to do a miracle, Lord, an' help the doc to bring him 'round so thet we can talk with him and read Yer Word so thet he might have thet chance to decide fer hisself. We are askin' this, Lord, in the name of Jesus, Yer Son, who died thet each one of us--includin' Jedd here--could have life eternal. Thank ya, Lord, for hearin' the prayer of those of us who bow before Ya. Amen."
Clark stood up, adjusting his crutch to support himself. The man before him still lay unconscious. Lane reached out and touched the whiskered cheek. Then he turned to the doctor.
"What's next, Doc?"
Juan looked back at the man on the bed. "I think I should
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take him to my home. I can put him on the cot in the office." All eyes looked at the doctor, questioning.
The doctor continued. "He is going to need much care. We can watch him there. It will give my mother the feeling to be needed. She wishes to do something for someone, and this will be her chance. If I am able to help this man . . ." Juan hesitated, then continued. "I think that it is too late to save many of his fingers and toes. Perhaps he will lose them all."
It was sobering news. Clark noticed some of the hands in the room unconsciously curl up into fists as though defying fate to try to take their own.
Lane moved first. "Ya want me to git a team?" he asked the doctor.
"Yes. Put lots of hay in the bottom of a wagon. We'll need to make him a bed."
For the second time that Christmas Eve, Lane made a trip to the doctor's, this time driving the team that carried a critically ill man. His saddle horse tied to the rear, Dr. De la Rosa rode in the wagon with them, watching Jedd to be sure he stayed well covered
in the bitter winter wind.
Clark returned to the little soddy and found that Marty had not gone to bed.
"I've been a-frettin' an' thinkin' all kinds of things," she said.
"You'll never believe this," said Clark, "but thet man Scottie brought in off the range is Jedd Larson."
"Jedd?"
"Shore ain't in very good shape."
"Oh, Clark. Did ya tell 'im 'bout his girls? Did he say--"
"Jedd didn't say much 'ceptin' a few cuss words, Marty. He is plumb outa his head. No, thet's not right. He did say one thing. Over an' over. He said 'Tina.'
"Tina .. . Then he remembers."
"Somehow thet one name gave me hope, Marty. Somehow it helped me to believe this wasn't jest fate thet sent Jedd this way, but God givin' him thet chance to find Him."
"Oh, Clark, I pray thet it might be so," said Marty, the tears filling her eyes.
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"If only I could have talked to him--made him understand me somehow."
"Can I see 'im?" asked Marty.
"He's gone."
"Gone? But how could--"
"Lane went fer Dr. De la Rosa, an' the doc decided when he checked Jedd out thet it would be better fer 'im to have Jedd at his house so he could watch over 'im. Lane took 'im on over in the wagon. They left jest a few minutes ago."
"Oh, Clark. I hope he makes it. I hope thet ya have a chance to talk to him. Was he really bad, Clark?" Clark nodded his head solemnly.