by Janette Oke
“And nothing I can say will make you change your mind?” Missie said, her one last effort at persuasion.
“’Fraid not. Iffen the winter gits too tough an’ we begin to get cold, we might come crawlin’ back beggin’ to be ’llowed in,” said Clark lightly.
“I’ll let ya in, Grandpa,” assured Nathan, and everyone began to laugh.
“I let ya in, G’an’pa,” echoed Josiah, not wanting to be outdone.
Missie moved for the coffeepot. “Well, if you are determined to do it, I guess I can’t stop you, but I still don’t like it.”
“Look, honey,” said Marty, understanding how their daughter felt, “if we didn’t think it for the best, we wouldn’t do it. Honest! Just give it a chance, will you, Missie? If it doesn’t seem to be working for the best of all concerned, we’ll move back in here. All right?”
Missie brightened some and leaned over to kiss Marty on her forehead.
“I’m sorry. It just took me off guard.” She managed a smile. “If you’re sure that it’s what you want, my soddy is all yours. But I’m warning you, Mama, it can get awful cramped on a winter’s day.”
Marty laughed. “Well, I have an advantage you didn’t have, my dear.”
“Yes?” asked Missie.
“You,” said Marty. “If I git to feelin’ cramped, I can jest bundle up an’ make a dash fer yer big, beautiful home. You didn’t have a big house or a daughter nearby, so ya jest had to sit tight.”
Missie smiled again. “Well, I hope you feel cramped real often,” she said. “Then you’ll visit me lots.”
Clark put down his empty cup. “Well, fellas,” he said to the boys, “guess we’d better git started with this here move. Got yerself a wagon we kin use?”
The boys scrambled down and led the way to the bedroom that had been known as Grandpa and Grandma’s for the last few months. Clark followed, his crutch beating a rhythmic tattoo behind them.
“I’ll see what I can find for rugs an’ blankets,” offered Missie. “You’ll need some decent dishes, too. Those in the soddy are in bad shape.”
“Now, don’t ya fuss none,” Marty warned her daughter, but she knew she might as well bid the sun not to shine. Missie was sure to fuss. Marty just shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps in the fussing Missie would find some fun. She followed Missie out, determined to make a real adventure for them all on this moving day.
The nights were cooler now, and the wood fire in the old cookstove made the snug little soddy cozy and warm. Clark had encouraged Marty to visit Missie often during the first few days after their move, to assure her that indeed they had not forsaken her. Marty also invited Missie down to the soddy for afternoon tea, and Missie’s many memories of the primitive dwelling gave her parents a new understanding of their daughter’s first years in the West. She told of her first shocking sight of the small grass-covered mound that was to be her home, and her horror at seeing from inside the dirt roof and dirt floor, and her feeling of fear as she laid Nathan on the bed lest the chunks of earth come tumbling down on top of the wee baby. She described their first Christmas and the cowboys sitting almost toe to toe, enjoying a simple Christmas dinner. She told of Cookie holding Baby Nathan when he had the croup and helping him to breathe freely again. She talked about her first visit from Maria, her difficulty in drying her wash, her cooped-up feelings. But all the time she talked there was nostalgia in her voice, and her deep affection for the little soddy showed. Marty even began to wonder if Missie might be envying them the chance to live in it!
The boys loved to come, and Marty and Clark found themselves listening for their knock on the door and the two little voices calling, “Grandpa!” “Grandma!” They would pester Clark as he tried to study for the Sunday lessons. They coaxed to be able to add fuel to the fire. They wanted to roll on the bed, scratch marks in the dirt floor, and have their meals at the small table. They brought garden vegetables, fresh eggs, or milk from their mother. They even brought treats from Wong’s kitchen.
Clark and Marty enjoyed them but always made sure they were home to greet their father when he returned at the end of the day.
Life finally had settled into a warm, comfortable, wholesome routine for all of them. Marty was thankful that Clark had proposed the move, feeling that it truly was better for all concerned. Willie looked less tense, more relaxed and happy, as well. He had needed to be master in his own home again. Even Missie took on a new glow. The past months had drained all of them, but now it was time for life to return to normal.
Marty sat in front of the soddy, knitting and soaking in the late fall sun; Clark came around the corner, expertly managing his crutch and a pail of spring water. He set the pail down and sank into a chair beside Marty, wiping his brow.
His chuckle brought Marty’s head up. Now what is he findin’ so funny? she asked herself and then repeated it to Clark.
“Nothin’s funny, really. Jest thinkin’ thet God really does make ‘all things work together fer good.’”
“Meanin’?”
“This here leg—the one I ain’t got no more. Ya notice which one is missin’?”
“Yah, the left one.”
“Yep, the left one—but more’n thet. Look, it frees up my right hand when I’m workin’. See, I use the crutch in the left. Not only thet, but it’s the left one I chopped into thet winter takin’ out logs. Remember?”
Marty wondered how he thought she could forget. She still went weak and sick inside when she thought of how Clark had returned to the house with his pale face and blood-drenched foot. “I remember,” she said, her voice tight.
“Well, thet’s the foot thet’s gone. Thet rascal has kept me awake more’n one night—’specially when the weather’s ’bout to change.”
“You never mentioned thet before.”
“Weren’t no reason to. Guess it won’t keep me awake again, though.”
Clark chuckled again. Marty couldn’t quite bring herself to join him, but she smiled at this strong, patient man of hers who saw God’s hand in all the circumstances of his life.
Clark had a visit from Juan. It had been three weeks since they had seen the de la Rosas. They had been informed that Juan and Maria had gone away, and they assumed Juan was still gathering equipment and supplies for his medical practice. He greeted Clark now with a firm handshake and clear eyes. Marty sensed that he wanted to talk to Clark in private and left the two of them alone over steaming cups of coffee.
“Well, after much prayer and struggle,” began Juan immediately, “I did as you recommended.”
“You have been home?”
“I have been home,” Juan said with deep feeling.
“I’m glad,” said Clark. “An’ how did yer pa receive you?”
Juan’s eyes clouded for a moment. “My father, I am sorry to say, was not there to greet me. He died seven months ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Clark said with sincerity.
“I am sorry, too. I should have gone sooner. I should not have let stubborn pride keep me away.”
“An’ yer mother?”
“My mother welcomed me with outstretched arms.”
Clark smiled. “I’m sure she did.”
“My father had died and left my mother all alone. Daily she prayed that if her son Juan was still living he would come back to her. Because of my foolishness, it took a long time for my mother’s prayers to be answered.”
“We are all foolish at times,” Clark reminded him.
Juan went on. “My mother could scarcely believe her eyes when I walked into her room. She had failed much. She did not eat well or care for herself since my father died. When she saw me, she wept long for joy. Then she told me how my father had pined after sending me away. He tried for many months to find me—to ask for my forgiveness—but there was no trace of where I had gone. Before he died, he had my mother promise that she would keep trying. She did. She sent out men and offered rewards, but she could not find me.”
Juan stopped to wipe a hand across
his eyes. “I caused them much hurt,” he murmured.
“Ya didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t know. I was too busy nursing hurts of my own. . . . My mother was so happy to hear that I am a doctor again. I would like you to meet her.”
“I’d love to meet her. Maybe someday—”
“Not someday. Now.”
“Ya mean—?”
“She’s here. I left her up at the house having tea with Missie and Maria. She wants very much to meet the man who sent her son home to her.”
“But I . . . I didn’t do thet. Ya went on yer own. It was yer decision.”
“Yes, you let me make the decision. You left me my dignity. But you knew when you talked to me how I would have to decide.” Juan smiled.
“I’d love to meet yer mama,” said Clark, picking up his crude crutch.
“An’ I have something for you,” said Juan, returning to the door and reaching outside for a carefully fashioned crutch with a padded arm bar. “They can make very good crutches in the city,” he added.
Clark took the new crutch and handled it carefully, looking over every angle and the total length of it.
“It’s a dandy,” he grinned. “An’ I thank ya.”
Clark, with his new “store-bought” crutch, and Juan went to the house together. Juan explained as they walked, “My mother had no desire to live alone on the rancho. As I did not wish to return to ranching in that area, we decided to sell the ranch to the man who has run it for my father. Mother is insisting on using much of the money from the sale for my medical practice. She wants us to have good equipment for those who need help. She is going to live with us. We are all so happy. Maria can’t remember having a mother. Hers died when she was a very young girl. We are all very happy, Mr. Clark, and we thank you.”
Señora de la Rosa was a delicate, dark woman with flashing eyes and a quick smile. In spite of her years and the intense sorrow in her past, she still had a youthful spirit and vibrant outlook on life. Clark and Marty liked her immediately.
“Mama has said that we shall all come to service together,” said Maria. “When God works to answer her prayers through people who worship—even though they worship in a different way than she is used to—they must have the approval of God, she says. And so God would also surely approve of us worshiping together with them. So we shall be here next Sunday—and all the Sundays—and we will be glad to help in the building of the new church.”
The prayer time together before the de la Rosas left for home was full of fervent thanksgiving to God.
Sixteen
Winter
Nathan celebrated his sixth birthday—a big event for him at any time, but even more important on this occasion because his grandparents were there to help in the merrymaking. The Kleins and de la Rosas also came for the event, and the house rang with laughter and friendly chatter.
Josiah got his full share of attention on the occasion, coming in from the kitchen wrapped in one of Wong’s big white aprons. Everyone had a good laugh, and Joey was pleased with the response.
Nathan had insisted he wanted a crutch “jest like Grandpa’s” for his birthday and could not understand the objections to getting him one. He wanted to imitate his grandfather in every way, and he felt that the use of a crutch—even though he planned on keeping his leg—would be one more thing he could share with this man he loved so dearly. Missie was horrified at the thought of such a thing, fearing that Nathan’s toting about a crutch might be tempting fate. She tried to talk Nathan out of it, promising him all kinds of things in its place. But he still wanted one. Clark finally had a man-to-man talk with the boy, and Nathan came away from the discussion happy that he had two good legs to walk on “like his pa.”
Willie was pleased with the profits from the fall cattle sale, and he and Missie left by train for a larger city to do some shopping. Clark and Marty took charge of the two boys while the LaHayes were gone. The children begged to sleep in the soddy with their grandparents, and the four had a cozy and enjoyable time together.
The shipment of furnishings eventually arrived, and Missie now had a new dining room—splendid in its dark wood furniture, thick rug, and rich draperies. Marty complimented Missie many times on her excellent taste, but Missie laughed and replied that anyone could have good taste as long as they had good money.
Missie, too, had a birthday. Marty thoroughly enjoyed the chance to make the cake and prepare the birthday dinner after the number of years they had been apart for this event. All the ranch hands were invited for the meal. The large family dining room was almost as crowded as the little soddy had been many Christmases ago. But Missie loved it, and the cowboys all seemed to appreciate it, too.
Marty awoke one morning to the sound of the wind howling around the little soddy. The winter’s first storm had moved in without warning. Clark was already up and had gotten a nice fire going before reading his Bible at the small table.
Marty snuggled under the covers again and thought about how fortunate they were. Winter might be here with all its sound and fury, but they were snug and warm and dry. Marty did not put off getting up for long. Clark had coffee perking, and the smell of it quickly enticed her from the bed. She crawled forth rather hesitantly, but the comforting heat from the fire meant the howling wind had no power in their warm shelter.
“My, thet coffee smells good! I think ya purposely made it jest to tempt me from the bed,” she said, slipping her arms around Clark’s shoulders and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“Ya hear thet wind?” asked Clark. “Sounds like we’re gonna find out all ’bout a western winter.”
“Guess we will at thet,” said Marty, “but ya know, it ain’t scarin’ me none.”
Clark merely smiled.
“Whatcha doin’?” asked Marty.
“Well, Henry figures thet when the storms strike on a Sunday, the folks from any distance won’t be able to make it here fer the service. So we talked it over an’ decided to make ’em up some lesson materials they could read and study at home.”
“Thet’s a good idea!” Marty enthused.
“At least this’ll help ’em to feel a part of the group, even iffen they can’t git here. They’ll be studyin’ the same portion of the Word as the rest of us.”
“Thet’s nice,” Marty encouraged again.
“But I’ve been at this fer what seems ages already, an’ I shore could do with breakfast. I was jest sittin’ here thinkin’ this is the kind of a mornin’ I could use a nice big stack of pancakes.”
Marty laughed and went to get dressed so she could make Clark his pancakes.
The winter weather continued as it had begun. The storms moved in and out of the area, leaving behind big drifts of snow. As predicted, the Sunday crowd at the LaHayes’ diminished during that time. Henry saw to it that those members of the little congregation not able to attend received Clark’s Sunday lesson materials.
The church building committee worked hard at drawing up plans and arranging for the materials for spring building. All the members of the group were anxious to get into their own little church. Juan’s mother sent away to the city and ordered a bell for the spire. She felt that a church of God should have a bell for calling together the worshipers.
Donations for materials and 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 often dropped in at the soddy to see Clark. Marty was sure he waited until he saw her heading for Missie’s for a chat or to do some baking together, and then, in her absence, he would hobble off to have a cup of coffee with Clark. Clark did not discuss much of their conversation with her—she knew he was honoring Cookie’s desire for confidence. Yet she also realized the old cowboy was deeply troubled about his past life and its effect on his eternal future. Marty wanted to hasten “the awakening” and say outright to Cookie, “Yer a sinner an’ ya realize yer bad deeds can keep ya from heave
n. I was a sinner, too. But one needn’t stay in thet state. Christ Jesus came so every person can 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 He offers to ya. It’s jest thet simple. Nothin’ to it at all. No need to fret an’ stew over whether it’s 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 Marty knew he would carefully explain what Scripture had to say about mankind’s fall into sin—beginning with Adam and Eve—about human selfishness, about every person’s need of a Savior, and about God’s solution to this need. Cookie was gradually realizing his own need and understanding what Christ had done for him, Clark quietly told Marty. He felt confident that when Cookie made his decision, there would be no turning back. Still, Marty inwardly chafed, wishing it wouldn’t take the man so long.
Scottie, too, was on the Davises’ prayer list. They liked and respected the foreman, and they longed 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 he had found as he read the Scriptures. He not only read the Bible, but he endeavored to live daily by its commands and precepts. 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 it was fer women an’ young’uns an’ men who couldn’t stand on their own feet. But if I was ever to git religion, I’d want the kind thet Lane’s 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.
