by Janette Oke
But Clark seemed to have no such worries. Seemingly relieved and confident that he had all things arranged in good order, he took her arm.
“Well, Mrs. Davis,” he teased, “here we are in the big city. What shall we be doin’ with it?”
“Doin’?” asked Marty blankly.
“Well, they say a big city is full of all manner of excitin’ an’ forbidden things. Ya be wishin’ to go lookin’ fer some of ’em?”
Marty no doubt looked as shocked as she felt. “Me?”
Clark laughed. “No, not you. An’ not me, either. I’m jest funnin’ ya. I have heard they have some very good eatin’ places, though. I could sure use me some good food. Somethin’ about sandwiches thet don’t stay with a man fer long. Though they sure enough hit the spot at the time, ya understand.” He chuckled again as he looked into her face. “Ya interested?”
“I reckon,” replied Marty, though secretly she found herself far more interested in what the people would be wearing than in what they ate.
“Well, let’s jest find us a hotel room to git settled an’ leave our belongin’s, an’ then we’ll see what we be findin’.”
They discovered a hotel quickly enough. It was the largest one Marty had ever seen. She looked around the lobby at the high ornate ceiling, the glistening hanging lights, and the elaborately paneled doors. This is going to cost us nigh onto a fortune, she thought, but she did not voice her opinion to Clark.
Clark was handed a key and given a few instructions, and then he gathered up their bags and took Marty’s arm for the climb up the stairs—many of them. But she soon was distracted by the attractive paper on the walls and the colorful carpeting beneath their feet. At length, Clark stopped before a door and used the key. He pushed the door open and then stood to the side to allow Marty to enter. The room before them was the most elegant Marty had ever seen. She looked about her, studying carefully every detail. She wanted to be able to describe the room to her daughters.
The wallpaper was a richly patterned blue and the draperies were deep blue velvet with thick fringes. The bedspread, heavy and brocaded, had a cream background with some blue threads interwoven. The ornate chest appeared to have been hand-carved, and there was a special stool or small table on which one rested the travel cases. The imported carpet was a riot of rich purples, crimsons, blues, and golds, all blended together in an attractive overall pattern. The room even had its own bathroom. Marty took it all in and then turned to Clark.
“My,” she said, then again, “my, I never know’d thet all of this grandness was possible.”
“I jest hope thet this ‘grandness’ has a comfortable bed,” he responded dryly, crossing over to the bed and testing it with his hand. “I’m thinkin’ thet before mornin’ I’ll likely be pinin’ fer the ‘grandness’ of our own four-poster.”
Marty, too, felt the bed. “Feels fine to me,” she stated, “though I admit to feelin’ so tired thet a plank floor might even be welcome.”
Clark laughed. “Before ya settle fer thet plank floor, let’s go see what this here town has to offer an empty stomach.” And, so saying, he attempted to lead her from the room.
“Whoa now,” argued Marty. “Iffen I’m gonna dine out like a fine lady, I’m gonna need to freshen up first. Goodness sakes, the stage was so hot an’ dusty, one feels in fair need of a bath an’ hairwash.”
As expected, it took Marty longer to prepare for going out than it did Clark. He waited fairly patiently while she primped and fussed and finally felt confident enough to venture forth. They descended the stairs slowly, and Clark made inquiry as to the location of a nice dining room. Assured that the one in the hotel was one of the finest the city had to offer, they proceeded into an immense room with elaborate columns and deep wine-colored draperies. Marty had never dined in such splendor. She could scarcely take her eyes from the room and its occupants long enough to properly select from the menu. Everything on the stiff card before her looked too fussy, too much, and too expensive. It was hard for her to make up her mind. She wished she could find something simple like fried chicken or roast beef. Clark asked for the house specialty and, without checking to see what it was, Marty echoed his order.
She tried not to stare, but the people moving about the room and sitting at the white-covered tables seemed to be from another world. She had to take herself consciously in hand and remember her manners. Still, she was relieved and pleased to note that she did not stand out in the crowd as “backwoods” or “frumpish.” Her daughters had chosen her new clothing well. How thankful she was for their knowledge and encouragements.
When the waiters had brought their plates and settled the dishes in front of them, Clark took Marty’s hand and bowed his head, thanking the Lord for His care on the journey and for the food before them. The meal was delicious, though they served far too large a portion in Marty’s opinion. She, who was not in the habit of wasting anything, had a difficult time leaving the food on her plate and sending it back to the kitchen. She was concerned, too, that the cook might take offense and feel that the meal had not pleased her. After she had eaten all she possibly could and pushed back her plate, she still was not sure exactly what she had eaten. It had been very tasty—but not identifiable like her home-cooked farm suppers of roast beef, potatoes, and gravy. Everything about the city was different.
They ordered French pastries to go with their coffee and lingered over them, enjoying the taste, the atmosphere, and the pleasurable luxury of sitting with no responsibility to hasten them away from the table.
When they felt it would be impolite to remain any longer, they rose from the table and returned to the lobby. Clark purchased a local paper and tucked it under his arm as they again made their way up the stairs to their room. Marty held her skirt carefully as she climbed; it would never do to step clumsily on her skirt and damage such an expensive hemline.
“So how do you plan on spendin’ this lazy evenin’, with no mendin’ or sewin’ in yer hands?” Clark asked as he opened the door to their room.
“Isn’t botherin’ me none,” responded Marty lightly. “As tired as I be feelin’, I expect thet sleep sounds ’bout as good to me as anythin’ I could be doin’.”
Clark smiled. “Go on. Tuck yerself in then. Me, I’m jest gonna check the paper an’ see what’s goin’ on in the world.”
Marty prepared for bed and slipped between the cool, smooth sheets with a contented sigh. Oh, how tired she was! She longed for a good long sleep. She would be off before you could say . . . But it turned out she wasn’t. Try as she might to relax in the big soft bed, her mind still kept whirling. She thought of Missie and her little family they were going to see. She thought of Ellie, Luke, Arnie, and Clare back home. Was there anything she had forgotten to tell them, any reminders she hadn’t given, any instructions she had missed? Would their baggage really make it onto the train? What would it be like sharing the close proximity of a train car with strangers for days on end as they traveled? Marty’s mind buzzed with questions.
Clark finished reading his paper, prepared for retiring, and climbed in beside her. Soon Marty heard his soft breathing and knew he slept in spite of the unfamiliar bed. Still sleep eluded her. She stirred restlessly and wished for morning. Once they were actually on that train and headed for Missie’s, she was sure then she could relax.
In spite of her restless night, Marty roused herself early the next morning. Anticipation took charge, driving her from the bed. Clark stirred as Marty threw back the blankets.
“Rooster crow already?” he teased, then shut his eyes again and turned over.
Marty didn’t let his joshing bother her but went about her morning preparations. She had already decided on the dress and hat she would wear for their first train ride and carefully worked out the wrinkles with the palms of her hands. She shook out the hat, fluffing up the feather, and stepped back to admire the plume. My, this is some hat, she thought. She felt a mite self-conscious about wearing it, but then assured herself that
all the fashionable traveling ladies wore them.
Marty dressed carefully and then began packing her nightclothes and her gown of yesterday in her case. The gown smelled dusty and looked bedraggled from the stagecoach ride. What a shame to pack it away in such a mess! she fretted. She wished there were some way to freshen it first. She selected a few pages from Clark’s newspaper and carefully wrapped the dress in it. Clark, still in bed, seemed not the least disturbed by the crackling newspaper.
Marty finished all her packing and preparation for their second day of travel, and Clark still hadn’t stirred. She wasn’t sure what she should do. She hated to waken him, but what if they were late and missed their train? She had no idea of the time. She crossed to where Clark’s vest hung on the back of a chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for his pocket watch. It isn’t there! Marty panicked and her mind immediately flashed to the terrible stories she had heard about the big city. They were true! Someone must have come into their room in the dead of night and stolen Clark’s watch. If his watch was gone, what else had they taken? Marty hurried to her case. Was her cameo from Ellie still there? And what about the gold brooch that Clark had given her two Christmases ago?
Marty had packed them on the very bottom of the suitcase. Carefully now she lifted each item from the case, going down on her knees on the floor to lay things out all around her. When she remembered the hours she had spent carefully packing each item of her clothing, she could have cried. Would she ever get them so neatly arranged again? Many of the gowns she had folded in thin tissue wrap supplied by the dress shops in which she had made her purchases. And now, as she lifted them out, no matter how hard she tried to be careful, she disturbed the garments and wrinkled the tissue. Yet she had to know—were her few items of precious jewelry stolen along with Clark’s watch? Clark would be so disappointed! His three sons had gone together to purchase the gift for his last birthday, and he had proudly worn the watch chain across his chest.
Marty stopped suddenly in the middle of her frantic search. Perhaps she shouldn’t be wasting precious time now. Perhaps she should run down to the front desk and report the loss. Maybe there still was a chance to catch the thief. No, first she must know how many missing things to report. So Marty continued unpacking her case, item by item, laying each one around her in one of the neat piles on the deep blues, golds, wines, and scarlets of the carpeted floor.
Marty was almost to the last item when Clark roused from sleep and sat up in bed.
“Ya repackin’?” Clark asked mildly, though his expression looked rather dumbfounded.
“Oh, Clark!” Marty cried. “I’m so glad yer finally awake. We’ve had us thieves in the night.” Marty’s hands hurried on, emptying the last few items from her case.
“Thieves?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“What ya meanin’, thieves?”
But Marty interrupted him with a glad cry. “Oh, they’re still here! Oh, I’m so glad, so glad.”
Clark was out of bed by then, looking down at Marty, who clasped her precious jewelry to her bosom.
“Look!” she cried. “They didn’t find ’em.”
“Who find what? I’m not followin’—”
“The thieves—the thieves who stole yer watch. Oh, Clark, I’m so sorry. I know how much ya loved thet watch an’—”
“Ya meanin’ this watch?” Clark asked, lifting it from the small table by the bed.
Marty gasped, “Ya found it!”
“Found it? I never lost it. I put it there by my bed so’s I could check the time in the mornin’.”
“Oh, Clark. I checked in yer pockets fer it, an’ when I couldn’t find it I thought thet someone had—”
But Clark had started to laugh. He pointed at Marty and at the empty case and the heaped-up clothing and laughed uproariously.
At first Marty felt chagrined by his outburst, since she was not yet over her concern and fear during the trying ordeal of the last several minutes. Then she looked about her at the clutter and then at the watch held dangling from its chain in Clark’s hand, and the humor of the situation struck her also. She buried her face in her hands and laughed with Clark.
When she finally had control of herself again, she gasped out, “Well, if this isn’t ’bout the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Jest look at me! I think thet my sleepless nights have really addled my brain. Oh, Clark, jest look at the mess I got here!”
Then a new thought struck her. The repacking of the case was going to take some time if she was going to do it carefully. Perhaps she would need to stuff things into the case and run to catch the train. Nervously, she looked up, her hands quickly starting to return things to their proper places. “How much time we got ’fore—?”
Clark assured her they had far more time than she would ever need for the repacking, even though she was “as particular and fussy as Aunt Gertie.” Marty had never come by any more information than that about Aunt Gertie, but when Clark wanted to make a point of someone’s fussiness, he always brought up this aunt of his. The boys had taken up the phrase, too, though they knew nothing more than she did of the mysterious Aunt Gertie.
Marty, relieved that there was plenty of time, carefully set out to put everything back in its proper place while Clark shaved and dressed.
She was still laboring over the open case when Clark stood, hat in hand, ready to go.
“Be it time?” Marty inquired.
“Take yer time—we still got lots of it. Soon as yer ready, we’ll go on down an’ find us some breakfast. A man can’t travel on an empty stomach. Then we’ll come back on up an’ pick up our things.” Clark tipped up Marty’s chin and looked into her face with a smile. “Guess we might as well do the rest of our waitin’ at the train station. I have me a feelin’ thet yer not gonna rest easy until yer sure thet yer gonna be on thet there train,” he added.
Marty packed in the last few items and closed the case. She stood to her feet and nodded her head. There was no use denying what Clark had just said. He knew her far too well.
“I’m ready now,” she said. “An’, yes, I could be usin’ some breakfast.”
Clark offered his arm, checked his safe-in-hand watch, shook his head a bit, and chuckled again.
Five
The Real Journey Begins
At the train station, Marty was sure she had never seen so many people all in one place. Her eyes and ears were busy noting and storing up the new sights and sounds all around her. What would Nandry, Clae, and Ellie think if they could see all this!
Clark found a bench on which Marty could wait and went to make final arrangements for their journey. She sat and watched the array of marvelously colorful dresses, even on little girls. Why, the menfolk looked like they belonged on the pages of some storybook!
Even though there was still lots of time before the train was due to leave the station, Clark had been correct about her state of mind. Marty would not really rest easy until she was actually seated on the train and assured that its engine was pulling them westward. So in spite of her interest in the crowd, she fidgeted and was glad when she saw Clark moving back across the room toward her.
A rather confident looking woman with bright hair and a broad-brimmed scarlet-plumed hat sat across the room. To Marty’s surprise, the woman also seemed to be watching Clark’s approach. The woman looked out from under her hat brim, then she seemed to deliberately drop a glove at her own feet and pretended to go back to the book she held before her face. As Clark reached the “lost” glove, he bent, gentlemanlike, recovered it, and then glanced around to see who its owner might be. Marty saw the woman steal a very small peek, and then her long eyelashes began to flutter. Marty knew she was about to make her presence known to Clark in some clever little speech.
Marty stood quickly and spoke before the lady in the hat had time to open her mouth. “Everythin’ set, Clark? Oh, a glove. Perhaps it belongs to you, ma’am,” she said, reaching for it and turning to the woman with a smile. “It matches your ha
t perfectly.”
The lady accepted her glove without comment. Marty moved away, taking Clark’s arm and steering him to a seat nearer the exit door. I can’t imagine the brazenness of these city women, she was fuming inwardly. They’d try to steal a woman’s husband right out from under her very nose. Why, that’s even worse than taking a watch! Clark seemed to remain unaware of the small hubbub as the two settled themselves on the bench together. Marty carefully avoided any eye contact with the woman across the station.
Someone finally called, “All aboard for points west,” and Marty quickly stood, shook the wrinkles from her skirt, and straightened her hat. Clark gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and they moved with the crowd toward the waiting train.
Having never been on a train before, Marty was both excited and apprehensive. She found the high steps awkward to maneuver with her long skirt and was glad for Clark’s helping hand as she climbed up.
Inside the train car, the rows and rows of seats were not as elegant as Marty had imagined they would be. The plush fabric was faded and even a little frayed in spots. Marty figured out that the fancier newer train cars would run between the large eastern cities.
They were jostled a bit as they sought a seat. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to find a place, as though they were afraid the train might leave without them. Clark and Marty found a seat quickly enough. They settled themselves and tucked their carry-along luggage under the seat. Marty sighed deeply. They had made it. Now if she only could get a glimpse of the sun to make sure this train was pointed in the right direction.
