The Love Comes Softly Collection

by Janette Oke

  “Ya could leave the girls here, I s’pose, so’s they wouldn’t slow ya down none, either in yer travel or any other way.” Clark gave Jedd a playful jab with his elbow. Jedd grinned.

  “Hadn’t thought of thet,” he deliberated, “but those new folk gonna move into my house—hafta have everythin’ all cleared out tomorra. Don’t s’pose they’d want the girls hangin’ on.”

  “Thet’s tough,” said Clark and appeared to really be working on Jedd’s problem. “Kinda puts a man at a disadvantage like, don’t it?”

  Jedd looked worried. Marty wished she could excuse herself and go be sick. Never had Clark made her so angry—or so puzzled. To sit there feeding the ego, the very worst impulses, of this—this disgusting person, and disposing of his two daughters as though they were unwanted baggage—she was so upset she feared any moment she might lose her temper with both of them.

  Then Clark seemed to suddenly think of something.

  “S’pose ya could put ’em up here fer a while,” he said nonchalantly. “We do have us an extry bedroom. Might jest be able to make room.”

  So that’s where he’s goin’ with all this. Marty’s climbing temper began to recede. Clark was using Jedd’s self-image as a male of desirable qualities to try to fight for the girls. He was offering to keep them—take them off the man’s hands, so to speak. Marty wondered why she hadn’t realized immediately what Clark was doing. She sent Clark a quick imploring glance to show him she now understood and for him to please, please continue.

  Jedd rubbed his grizzly chin. “Thet right?”

  “I think we could manage—’til ya got kinda settled like.” Clark grinned and jabbed with his elbow again.

  Jedd appeared to be thinking carefully.

  “’Course,” Clark continued, a somewhat doubtful note now in his voice, “Marty has the say of the house an’ how crowded in she wants us. Sorta up to her, I guess.”

  Marty wanted to cry out, “Oh, please, please, Jedd,” but instead she took her cue from Clark and even surprised herself at her casual, matter-of-fact voice.

  “S’pose we could . . . fer a while . . . iffen it’ll help ya out some.”

  “Might do,” Jedd finally said. “Yeah, might do.”

  Marty didn’t dare look up. The hot tears in her eyes threatened to run down her cheeks and into her coffee cup. She quickly left the table on the pretense of tending to the fire. When she had herself somewhat under control, she poured the men another cup of coffee and then went to the bedroom where she leaned against the window ledge and prayed for God to please forgive her lack of faith and to please help Clark in the battle in which he was presently engaged.

  A few moments later Clark came in, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, rummaged in a drawer, then was gone.

  Marty heard the men leave the house, and she went into the sitting room a short time later to watch Jedd’s team on its way out of the yard.

  Marty heard Clark come into the house and walk over to stand behind her at the window. As Jedd’s wagon disappeared over the hill, Clark gently turned Marty to face him. Her tear-filled eyes looked into his and she hardly dared voice the question.

  “Did he—?”

  “Did he agree? Yeah, he agreed.”

  Her tears started again.

  “Oh, Clark, thank ya,” she said when she was able to speak. “I never, ever thought thet I’d be able to have the girls right here.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed, and Clark pulled out his handkerchief. “Thank ya,” she said again.

  Her face buried in his man-sized handkerchief, she then sputtered, “At first I was so mad, you talkin’ thet way to thet . . . thet conceited . . .” She floundered to a stop, knowing she should not voice the words she had been thinking.

  She began over again. “I couldn’t imagine why ya’d say sech things ’til . . . ’til I began to see. An’ he believed it all, didn’t he? Believed thet a woman—a young woman—in her right mind would take to him.”

  She was getting angry again at the very thought of it all, so she decided to change the subject before she worked herself up.

  “An’ he said thet we could take the girls?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “To keep?” She couldn’t help the pleading in her voice.

  “Well, he didn’t exactly say fer how long, but I’ll be one surprised farmer iffen Jedd Larson ever wants his girls back. He’ll git hisself all tied up in this or thet, an’ his girls won’t enter much into his thinkin’.”

  Marty had a sudden question she knew she shouldn’t ask, yet she felt she needed an answer.

  “Ya didn’t make ’im pay fer their keep, did ya?”

  Clark grinned. “Well . . . not exactly,” he said slowly.

  “Meanin’?”

  “Jedd said thet we could keep the girls iffen we gave ’im ten dollars apiece fer ’em.”

  Marty pulled back. “Well, I never!” she retorted. “I never thought I’d live to see the day thet one had to pay fer the privilege of feedin’ an’ clothin’ another man’s young’uns.”

  Clark pulled her back against him and smoothed the long brown hair. Maybe he thought by so doing he could smooth her overwrought nerves. But when he spoke there was humor in his voice. “Now, now,” he said, as though to an angry child, “ya wanted yer prayers answered, didn’t ya? Who are we to quibble as to how it’s done?”

  Marty relaxed in his arms. He was right, of course. She should be feeling thankfulness, not frustration.

  “The girls will be here tomorrow,” he continued. “It’s gonna be strange fer us all at first an’ will take some gittin’ used to. Seems thet all of our energy should be goin’ into makin’ the adjustment of livin’ one with the other.”

  He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

  “You’ve got yerself a big job, Marty. Already ya have yer hands full with yer own young’uns. Addin’ two more ain’t gonna lessen yer load none. I hope ya ain’t takin’ on too much. Yer tender heart may jest break yer back, I’m thinkin’.”

  She shook her head. “He answered our prayer, Clark. Iffen He thinks this right, what we’re doin’, then He’ll give the strength an’ the wisdom thet we need, too, won’t He?”

  Clark nodded. “I reckon He will” was all he said.

  Nine

  Nandry an’ Clae

  As he had agreed, Jedd arrived the next day with the two girls. Their few belongings were carried in a box and deposited in the bedroom that would be theirs. Marty wondered if the parting would be difficult, particularly so soon after the loss of their mother. But she could not detect any show of emotion from either side.

  Jedd was obviously anxious to be off. He had his possessions packed in his wagon, and with the money from the sale of the farm laying heavy in his pocket, he was hard-pressed to hold back, even for a cup of coffee. He did fill up on fresh bread and jam, however, and with the food barely swallowed announced that he must be on his way. He seemed to be fully recovered from his wife’s death. He gave Marty and his two daughters a quick nod, which Marty supposed was to suffice for thank you, good-bye, and God bless you, and went out the door. He was full of the coming trip west and all the good fortune he was sure it would hold. Jedd always had regarded good fortune more highly than hard work.

  Thus it was that with no further fanfare, Nandry and Clae were established as members of the Davis household.

  Marty decided to give the girls a few days of “settlin’ in” before establishing routine and expectations.

  She looked at their sorry wardrobes and decided that a trip to town would be necessary if they were to be suitably dressed for the soon-to-commence school.

  Marty seldom went to town, sending instead a carefully prepared list with Clark, but she felt this time she should go herself. Clark would find the selecting of dress materials and other articles difficult and time consuming.

  Marty had been saving egg-and-cream money over the months and felt that now was the time to dip into her savings. It wasn’t fair
to lay all the expenses on Clark. He’d already had to pay Jedd for the privilege of raising his daughters. Marty felt her hackles rise again at the mere thought.

  Well, that was all past and done—so be it. From here on the two youngsters were hers to care for, and to the best of her ability and with God’s help—and some from Clark, too—she planned to do it right.

  Nandry seemed her usual withdrawn self, neither expecting nor finding life to be interesting. But Clae clearly was observing everything around her and even dared at times to delight in what she discovered.

  Both girls were surprisingly helpful—for which Marty was grateful. Nandry preferred to spend time with young Arnie rather than the other members of the family. Marty did not mind, for help in keeping up with the adventuresome and often mischievous little boy was always welcomed.

  Marty planned her journey to town for the following Saturday. She would go in with Clark and thus save an extra trip.

  On Friday after breakfast was over, she called the girls to her. It was time, she decided, that they work a few things out.

  They sat down silently, their hands nervously twisting in their laps. Marty smiled at them in an effort to relieve their tension.

  “I thought thet it be time we have a chat,” she began.

  They did not move nor speak.

  “Is yer room to yer likin’?”

  Clae nodded enthusiastically and Nandry more quietly followed suit. The additional bedrooms Clark and their neighbors had put on the cabin really came in especially handy now that the two girls were with them. Marty had made sure the bed was soft with warm, nice-smelling blankets, and she had put colorful rag rugs over the floor, printed curtains with ruffles at the window, and two framed pictures on the wall. A neat row of pegs was on the wall behind the door and a wooden chest stood beneath the window. There was even a small bench with cushions all of its own.

  Clae nodded again and said with a sparkle in her eyes, “I never knew anything could be so fine. . . .” But she stopped when her sister gave her a long look.

  Marty continued to smile.

  “I thought maybe we should be sortin’ out our work,” she said. “Missie washes the dishes two mornin’s a week, an’ she cleans her room—makes her bed and hangs up her clothes each day—an’ she helps some with Arnie, too. Now then, what ya be thinkin’ thet you’d like to be doin’ fer yer share?”

  No response, although it looked like Clae might have something in mind.

  “I know ya already been makin’ yer bed. Thet’s good; an’ ya do a nice job of it, too. But is there anythin’ ya ’specially like to do? Better than other things, I mean.”

  Still no answer.

  Marty felt stymied, and just when she was wondering whether to simply make assignments as she saw fit, assistance came from her own Missie, who had come over to join the proceedings.

  “Mama says I wash dishes good,” Missie announced from her place leaning against her mother, “but I’ll share. Do ya want to wash dishes sometimes, Nandry?”

  Nandry nodded.

  “An’ do you, too, Clae?”

  Clae nodded.

  “Well,” said Missie, very grown-up, “then why don’t we take turns?”

  It was settled.

  Missie added, “We all need to make our own beds, but Clare is too little yet to make his bed, an’ Arnie can’t make a bed at all! Ya have to git ’im up an’ dress ’im every day. Who wants to make Clare’s bed an’ who wants to dress Arnie?”

  “I’ll care fer Arnie,” Nandry was quick to say.

  “Then I’ll make Clare’s bed,” Clae said cheerfully.

  “An’ sometimes there’s special jobs,” went on Missie, “like gittin’ more wood or hangin’ out clothes or peelin’ the vege’bles.”

  “I’d rather feed the chickens,” Nandry said slowly. “An’ gather eggs,” she added as an afterthought.

  “She likes chickens,” Clae informed the group. “She was always wishin’ thet she had some. Chickens an’ babies—thet’s what she likes.”

  “Fine,” said Marty to Nandry, “you can feed the chickens and gather the eggs iffen ya like thet. What ’bout you, Clae? What else would you be likin’?”

  Clae looked suddenly shy. Finally she blurted out, “I’d like to learn to make things.” She looked carefully into Marty’s face as if to determine if she was going to get into trouble for her request. Finding no resistance, she added, “Pretty dresses an’ aprons an’ knitted things.”

  “Stop it, Clae,” Nandry scolded her. “Ya know ya can’t do all thet. Ya’d wreck the machine fer sure.”

  So now it was out. Marty had noticed the younger girl eyeing her machine hungrily. So she wished to be creative. Well, she would be given instruction and opportunity.

  “The machine doesn’t break so easy,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “Ya must both learn to sew, an’ then you’ll be able to make whatever ya want. Perhaps we could start on somethin’ simple, an’ then when ya practice a bit ya can do somethin’ more fancy. I learned to sew when I was quite young, an’ I’ve always been glad I did. Sewin’ somethin’ pretty always makes me feel good inside.”

  Clae’s eyes shone with a mixture of delight and disbelief.

  Marty said, “Now, tomorra you’re goin’ to have yer first big job. I’m goin’ into town with my husband to buy the things you’ll be needin’ fer school, an’ I will be leavin’ ya here on yer own.” She looked over the faces arrayed before her and secretly wondered if she would be brave enough to leave them when the time came, or would she bundle them all up and take them along. No, that would never do. Five youngsters underfoot and hanging on her skirts and begging for this or that while she tried to hurry through a great deal of shopping just wouldn’t work at all. Besides, the girls really did need the opportunity to prove themselves. They were quite old enough to be caring for younger ones, and she must give them the chance to show it.

  Her announcement caused no change of expression on the faces before her.

  “Do ya think, Nandry, thet ya can care fer young Arnie an’ help fix some dinner fer ya all?”

  Nandry nodded her head in agreement.

  “An’, Clae, you an’ Missie will need to help with the dishes an’ the dinner an’ keep an’ eye on Clare. Can ya do thet?”

  The two girls exchanged glances, then nodded vigorously. Missie was obviously very pleased to be included with the older girls in this responsibility.

  “Good,” said Marty, “then it’s decided. Now, we have lots thet must be done today. First, I want ya all to slip off yer shoes so I can get a tracin’ of yer feet fer new boots fer school.”

  Marty’s face flushed as soon as she realized the two Larson girls were not wearing shoes.

  “Our shoes are all worn out,” Clae explained matter-of-factly. “They won’t stay on no more.”

  Marty carefully traced and labeled the feet on her pieces of brown paper. She would cut them out later so they could be slipped into a shoe for fitting.

  “Now then,” she told the girls, “Clae an’ Missie are to do up the dishes. Missie, you show Clae where the pans an’ towels are kept. Nandry, you come with me an’ I’ll show ya how to be carin’ fer the chickens. Then we’ll gather an’ clean the eggs so I can add ’em to the ones I’ve set aside to take to town.”

  “Can I bring Arnie?” Nandry asked, uncharacteristically animated. “He likes chickens, too.”

  Marty consented, knowing Arnie did love the chickens, though Marty was convinced that what he liked the most was their delightful squawking and flapping when he chased them around the pen.

  They left the house together. The two younger girls were already at work on the dishes.

  Maybe things would fall into place after all. The girls seemed almost eager to get to their new tasks. Marty breathed a relieved sigh and led the way to the grain bin, Nandry and Arnie in tow.

  Ten

  A Trip to Town

  Marty still had some nagging misgivings the followin
g morning as she tied on her bonnet and gathered the eggs, butter, and cream for the trip to town. Should she actually leave them all on their own, or should she at least take Arnie with her? No, she told herself, she needed to establish a sense of trust and responsibility with Nandry and Clae. After all, their father had made them shoulder grown-up responsibilities for years. She couldn’t require that they go back to being treated as children. So she again went over all the instructions with them, and they assured her they understood and would abide by her wishes.

  But it was with reluctant steps she left to join Clark in the wagon. She waved good-bye once more and put on a brave smile.

  “Bring us some yummies,” Clare called to her.

  “An’ some new hair ribbons fer school,” added Missie.

  “Thet girl,” laughed Clark, “she thinks far too much ’bout how she looks.”

  Marty coaxed forth a smile.

  “Clark,” she said as they left the gate, “do ya think it’s good to leave ’em like thet—with jest the girls an’—”

  “Why not?” Clark interrupted. “They been cookin’ an’ cleanin’ fer years already.”

  “But they haven’t had young’uns to care fer.”

  “No, thet’s right, but carin’ fer young’uns seems to be the one thing thet pleasures Nandry.”

  “I noticed thet, too,” Marty responded. “She really seems to enjoy Arnie. An’ he likes her, too. Oh, I hope it will be all right, but I won’t feel easy like until we git home agin. I sure hope this is a fast trip.”

  “Yer frettin’ too much, I’m thinkin’, but we’ll try to hurry it a bit. Won’t take me long to take care o’ the things I be needin’. How ’bout you?”

  “Shouldn’t take long. I need school things fer the girls an’ the usual groceries.”

  “Ya need money, then.”

  “I have my egg savin’s.”

  “No need to spend all yer savin’s on outfittin’ the girls. I’m ready to share in the carin’ of ’em.”

  Clark tucked the reins between his knees and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a couple of bills.