by Janette Oke
She was thankful now that Missie and Willie had come west. She was glad she and Clark had been able to visit. She was even glad for the extra time that Clark’s accident had allowed them. Missie was happy here. As Marty looked at her contented daughter, she realized that Missie really belonged here. She was a gentle part of Willie’s West. Marty looked about her with new appreciation for the ever-present hills and the openness—even the wind. This land spoke of freedom, of independence, and of strength. Marty was proud that her daughter was a part of it.
They rode home in silence . . . no doubt each thinking her own thoughts. Nathan cantered ahead on Spider, manfully “breaking trail” for his mother and grandmother. Josiah, his head resting against his mother, had nodded off to sleep.
Clark was waiting for them when they returned. He had spent the day putting new legs on Cookie’s worktable.
“How did you and Cookie make out?” asked Missie. She and Marty knew that Clark had been looking for an opportunity for a heart-to-heart talk with Cookie about his relationship with God.
Clark shook his head. “We had a good talk—nice an’ open—but Cookie is still hesitant. He says he wants to be sure he is acceptin’ Jesus Christ—not Clark Davis.”
“I don’t understand,” said Missie.
Marty thought about the statement for a moment. “I think maybe I do,” she said slowly.
“Well,” Clark said modestly, “Cookie says he admires me . . . guess ’cause we both of us had a similar kind of accident. Not much to admire a man fer, but Cookie reasons a little different than some men do. Anyway, he listens to the Word as I give it Sunday by Sunday; he sees me able to make do with one leg . . . I don’t know. He’s got it all mixed up as to what I can do as a man and what I can do with the Lord’s help. He’s not sure yet where the difference lies. Cookie’s right, ya know. I don’t want him to be a follower of Clark Davis. Iffen he can’t find the difference here, he should wait until he does. No good followin’ a man. Nothin’ I can give to Cookie he can’t find in himself.”
“Sounds strange to me,” mused Missie. “I’ve never thought of anyone getting mixed up about who to be following before. Seems plain to me that Jesus is the only way to heaven.”
“I left Cookie my Bible and marked some verses for ’im to read. I hope he can understand their meanin’.”
“We’re gonna have to do some praying,” Missie said simply as Clark and Nathan moved away with the horses and she and Marty walked on to the house, Josiah asleep in her arms. “If Pa can’t make Cookie see the difference, how will Willie or Henry ever do it?”
Eventually they learned that it was Lane who showed Cookie the difference. He walked into the cook shack and found Cookie frowning over Clark’s Bible.
“I still don’t figure it,” mumbled Cookie.
“Don’t figure what?” asked Lane, reaching for the ever-ready coffeepot.
“If I take on this here religion, will I be doin’ it to try to become a man like Clark Davis?”
“What’s wrong with bein’ a man like Clark Davis?”
“Nothin’. Nothin’ I can see. Only he says thet tryin’ to be like ’im ain’t gonna git me one step closer to those pearly gates yer always talkin’ ’bout.”
“Oh, thet,” said Lane, understanding Cookie’s dilemma. “He’s right.”
“But how can I be like Jesus?” asked Cookie in frustration. “I don’t even know Him.”
“Forgit ’bout bein’ like Him fer now,” said Lane. “Yer tryin’ to start too far ahead of yerself.” Cookie looked doubtful but let Lane continue.
“You’ve heard it preached an’ read many times thet all men are sinners?”
“Yah,” grunted Cookie.
“Are ya doubtin’ ya fit in thet category?”
“Shucks, no,” said Cookie. “I know myself better’n thet.”
“Okay,” said Lane, “thet’s where ya start. Now ya know yer a sinner, an’ I guess if yer wantin’ to copy Davis, ya don’t really want to stay one.”
Cookie nodded his agreement.
“Well, how ya try to clean up yer act ain’t gonna make a whole lot of difference. You’ll never measure up, no matter how hard ya try. Oh, ya might even git to act as good as Clark Davis himself, but thet won’t really impress God none. He still sees deeper than the skin.
“The Bible says thet man looks on the outside, but God looks on the heart. Also says thet the heart of man is ‘desperately wicked.’ But the good news is thet our hearts can be changed. Now, thet there’s the startin’ place.
“Jesus, holy an’ pure, died fer every dirty, wicked heart thet ever beat. All we gotta do is see what we are, an’ who He is, an’ accept fer ourselves what He did. Thet’s all there is to it. From there on, He does the workin’ on makin’ ya a follower.”
Cookie’s eyes opened wide at the simplicity of it. Lane gulped the last of his coffee, placed his cup on the table, and headed for the door.
When he reached the door he hesitated, turned to Cookie, and said softly, “All ya gotta do is ask Him.”
After Lane was gone, Cookie did.
Nineteen
Plans and Farewells
Clark and Marty began to talk about when they should go home, talking quietly together in the privacy of the little soddy. At first it was like a dream to be thinking of boarding the slow-moving train again and leaving behind the West that they had come to respect and the family they loved so deeply. Marty wished there was a way she could bundle them all up and take them home with her. But then she thought of Willie and his love for his spread, Missie and the sun reflecting in her eyes, and Nathan and Josiah as they rushed about their beloved hills with the wind whipping at their hair. And she knew she would not want to pick them up by their roots and try to transplant them—not really.
Marty’s thoughts turned more and more to her farm-home family. How’re Clare and his young Kate doing in the little log house? Is Arnie still seeing the preacher’s daughter? What is the girl really like? Is Ellie entertaining any gentleman callers? Which of the neighborhood young men will be the first one to notice our pretty young daughter who is now a woman? She wondered if Luke still nursed his dream of going off to train as a doctor and how Dr. Watkins and the boy were getting along. Marty was anxious to get home again and have some of her questions answered.
A long letter from Ellie arrived. She told about the new grass and leaves on the flowering shrubs. She spoke of the songbirds that were back and the new colt in the pasture. She reported that Clare had plowed the garden spot and she and Kate had planted the garden—more than they would ever be using themselves, she was sure, but they just couldn’t seem to stop once they had gotten started. She told of Nandry’s tears of joy and sorrow upon receiving the news of her father. She wrote that Nandry had immediately sat down and penned a long letter to Clae and Joe. Ellie gave news about the neighbors, the church, and the school. But she did not say how Clare and Kate were doing in the little house, or if Arnie was still seeing the preacher’s daughter, or if she, Ellie, was receiving gentleman callers, or how Luke was doing in his quest of becoming a doctor. Marty’s heart yearned to know all the answers.
“Clark,” she said, folding up the letter for the third time, “I think it’s time we got us some tickets.”
Clark ran a hand over the rope he was braiding for Nathan. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I think it is. We best have us a chat with Willie an’ Missie tonight.”
That evening Marty expected some protests when they voiced their decision. Missie put down the cup of coffee she had just poured and took a deep breath.
“No use pretending that we didn’t know it had to come,” she said quietly. “No use fussing about it. You must be powerful lonesome for the ones at home. I marvel that you were able to stay away this long.” She poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Willie. “Of course, I wish you could just stay on here forever. But I know better. Truth is, I’m thankful for every day we’ve already had.”
Willie cleared
his throat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Don’t know as how I’m gonna git along without yer pair of hands,” he said to Clark. “Can’t believe the number of little things you’ve seen to over the winter months—things thet none of us ever seemed to find time fer.”
Clark smiled. “Got a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t I see iffen I can talk yer pa into comin’ out fer a spell? He’s awful handy round a place. Never seen a man thet could make things look better in short order than yer pa. How ’bout it?”
Willie grinned. “I’d like thet,” he said sincerely. “Seems like a long time since I seen my pa.”
“When do you plan on going?” asked Missie.
“I’ll be ridin’ into town tomorra to check out the trains,” returned Clark. “No use waitin’ till it gits so hot one can hardly stand the ride. It was pretty uncomfortable at times fer yer ma when we came out last year. Thought it might be a little cooler iffen we go right away.”
Missie was silent.
Marty looked at her daughter and caught her blinking away tears.
“We’ve loved having you,” Missie finally managed. “You know that. I’m so sorry we have to send you back to the rest of the family different than you came, Pa. Hope they won’t hold it against us and the West.”
“Why should they?” asked Clark. “Accidents aren’t confined to one place. Jest before we left home, a neighbor farmer got drug by a team of horses and lost both his legs.”
“Still,” said Missie, “it’s going be a shock for them when they actually see you.”
“I don’t think any of ’em’ll take it too hard,” said Clark comfortably.
“We’re gonna miss ya at the church,” put in Willie. “Can’t believe how much interest there is since we started to have real services.”
“Thet won’t stop,” Clark answered. “Henry is all prepared to give ya Bible lessons jest as I was doin’. He’ll do a fine job. I already wrote to Joe to send Henry out some good books on the Bible fer studyin’. I expect Henry to really git into ’em. He loves studyin’ the Word and will bring to the people everything he can find. I think Henry is gonna make a fine lay preacher.”
“We’re glad for Henry,” Missie said. “He’s been a great help and a good friend ever since we left home.”
“Ya have some very fine neighbors here,” Marty said with feeling. “I’m so relieved, Missie, to know ya have ladies to visit and share with and a good doctor close by so ya won’t need to go way up to Tettsford Junction fer this next little one.”
“So am I,” Missie agreed, reaching out to take Willie’s hand. “That was what I dreaded most ’bout havin’ Nathan an’ Josiah—the long months of bein’ away from Willie.”
“Well, if I’m gonna make thet ride into town tomorra, I guess I should be gittin’ to bed. Thet’s a long way fer a slow rider to be travelin’.” Clark stood and lifted his crutch into position.
“Would ya prefer the team to a saddle horse?” asked Willie.
“Hey, thet sounds like a good idea. Might be I’ll even take young Nathan along with me, if his mother agrees.”
“He’d love to go,” said Missie. “He’s really going to miss you. Both of you. He won’t know what to do with himself when you leave.”
“Won’t be long until Nathan will be needin’ school. I know ya have been teachin’ him yerself, Missie, since ya had trainin’ and some experience with schoolin.’ Will ya keep on with thet?” asked Marty.
“Willie and some of the neighbor men are meeting at Juan’s on Wednesday night. There are several families whose children are much older than Nathan, and they are most anxious to get them some schooling before they’re so old they think they don’t even need school. I love teaching our boys, but I think they will do well in a real school with other children.”
“Glad to hear thet.”
“The church committee is going to tell them they can meet in the church if they want to.”
“Thet’s a good idea,” said Clark with enthusiasm. “I sure hope it all works out fer ’em. Now, we better git. I’ll be by to pick up yer son ’bout eight, if thet’s all right.”
“That’ll be fine. He’ll be up and ready to go. Why don’t you both come on over and have breakfast with us first?”
“Oh no, dear, we don’t want—”
“Ma,” said Missie, “please. There won’t be too many days for us to have a meal together. Let’s make the most of the ones we have left.”
Marty kissed her daughter and agreed on breakfast the next morning.
Clark and Nathan enjoyed a leisurely drive into town. Nathan, curious about everything he heard and saw, kept up an excited stream of questions and comments. Clark realized that the young boy was truly ready for school.
“What ya plannin’ to be when ya grow up, boy?” asked Clark.
“I don’t know, Grandpa. Some days I wanna be a rancher like my pa. An’ sometimes I wanna be a foreman like Scottie, an’ some days I wanna be a cowboy like Lane, but most of all I think I wanna be a cook like Cookie.”
Clark laughed. The ranch was really all the life the boy knew. Clark determined to send Nathan a packet of good books.
“What do you wanna be, Grandpa?”
“Ya mean when I grow up?”
“Yer already growed.”
“Oh yah,” said Clark, “guess I am at that.”
“What ya gonna be?” asked Nathan again.
“Well,” said Clark, “I’m a farmer.”
“What do farmers do?”
“Much like a rancher, only they don’t raise quite so many cows and horses. An’ they might have pigs or sheep or even goats to go with them other animals. An’ they plow fields, an’ pick rock, an’ pull stumps, an’ plant grain thet they harvest every fall. Then they build haystacks and store feed fer their animals to eat in the winter months. And they butcher an’ cure meat, an’ chop wood, an’ doctor sick critters, an’ take in garden vegetables, an’ fix fences.”
“Boy,” said Nathan, “farmers do lotsa stuff, huh, Grandpa?”
“Guess that’s right.”
“Can ya do all thet, Grandpa?”
“Shore. Don’t take nobody special to do all thet.”
“Boy, ya can do lots of things with only one leg, can’t ya, Grandpa?”
“Well, ya see, son, when I was doin’ all those things I still had me two legs. So I been thinkin’ some lately of how I can still do the same things. It’s gonna take some special tools. Ya know the piece of harness I made fer myself so I could balance and still handle the horse an’ the plow?”
Nathan nodded and smiled. “That’s kind of a funny contraption, Grandpa,” he commented, and they both shared a chuckle.
“Well, I plan on makin’ a lot of things like thet,” Clark explained. “I couldn’t start to work on them yet, ’cause they’ve got to be measured jest so, to fit the different things I’ll be usin’—like the plow an’ the rake an’ the seeder. I’m gonna make ’em all when I git home. I got this here idea of how I’ll fix the plow, see . . .” And Clark commenced to tell Nathan all the details of his idea while the little boy’s eyes opened wide as he listened. The miles melted away as the two worked together on Clark’s plans.
In town Clark discovered that the next available eastbound train was leaving the following Tuesday. He bought their tickets and then took Nathan to the general store for a treat. They also pocketed some sweets for Josiah, then headed the team for home.
The news of the upcoming departure had Marty in a flurry of plans and activities. She was sure she had much to do to prepare for the journey, but when she set about to begin, she found it wasn’t much after all—not nearly what it had been in preparing for their trip west. Now there was only their own luggage to pack, since all the things they had brought with them for Missie and the family would be staying right there. Marty relaxed and enjoyed her last days, spending as much time with the boys as she could.
She cleaned up the tiny soddy and bade it a fond farewell, then
moved their things back into Missie’s fine house for the remaining days.
That evening Willie came home from the de la Rosas’ with exciting news. The community had voted to begin the new school in the church building. Henry’s Melinda had been asked to teach. Her close neighbor, Mrs. Netherton, an older woman with no children, had agreed to stay with Melinda’s young son while she was at school. Since Melinda was reluctant to leave her boy too long, the first year of school would be held only for three days a week. Still, the neighborhood agreed that this arrangement was far better than no school at all.
Willie and Missie had decided that Nathan would be allowed to join the school-bound crowd. Since Melinda would be driving right by their ranch, she had agreed to pick up the young scholar.
As each final day together ticked by, Marty took special note. A little clock ran in her mind: This is our last Friday . . . our last Saturday . . . our last service in the little church. That Sunday she prepared for the service with extra care. Clark had already shared with her some of his thoughts on the Scripture portion for the day. Marty felt them to be most appropriate on their last day with this congregation they had learned to love. There was no better message that Clark could leave with them.
When Clark stood before the group on that last Sunday, he read solemnly, yet exultantly, from Jeremiah 9:23 and 24: “Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches: but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.” As she listened, Marty prayed for the individuals who sat in the seats around her. Her desire, as well as Clark’s, was that each one of them might deeply understand and live the truth of the Scriptures, and this one in particular.
