by Janette Oke
Marty began to laugh through her tears. “Yer invited,” she said firmly, “tonight. We’d love to have ya. We’ve been missin’ ya so. It seems like such a long, long time.”
“It does to me, too,” Kate admitted. “But I’m feelin’ a little stronger each day now. I’m even plannin’ on going to church again next Sunday—iffen the weather isn’t too bad. Doc said I should guard against a chill fer a while. I’m prayin’ the weather will be nice.”
“I’ll join ya in that prayer,” promised Marty.
“Oh, Mama,” said Kate, “I’m just countin’ the days now until yer little one is here. It’s gonna be so much fun to have ’im to hold and play with.”
“Her,” corrected Marty.
“Oh yeah—her. It was ours who was to have been the boy. I’m glad thet it wasn’t. She was a beautiful little girl, wasn’t she? Clare said he learned one thing. With God makin’ little girls so cute, it won’t matter next time whether God decides to send a boy or a girl.”
“Guess it won’t matter none to me, either,” agreed Marty. “It’s just a little game we have always played at our house. Sorta boys against girls. Right now, the girls think they are outnumbered. They’re not really—when ya count Nandry an’ Clae. They count ’em or don’t count ’em as suits their cause.” Marty laughed.
“Maybe God would send us one of each iffen we’d ask.”
“Whoa, now!” exclaimed Marty, holding up a hand. “I’m thinkin’ one will be ’bout all I can handle!”
They laughed together, and Marty rose to go.
“I’m so glad ya came, Mama,” said Kate with great feeling. “I’ve been missin’ ya so. Pa has dropped in now an’ then, an’ thet has been a real help. It helps Clare, too, to have Pa.”
Marty gave Kate a warm embrace, and both of them felt between them the struggle of the little one against the confinement.
Kate backed away laughing. “She’s alive an’ kickin’, all right. Little rascal! I can hardly wait to meet her.”
Marty could hardly wait, as well. “See ya fer supper. I’ll hurry on home an’ share the good news with Ellie.”
“I’m lookin’ forward to it. It’ll be so good to be with you all again,” Kate stated, then added, “You be careful on those slippery paths, now.”
Marty promised and walked carefully toward her home, breathing deeply of the cold, fresh air. She really should make herself go out more often. The air was good for her. She could do with more exercise, too.
Kate needed to get out, as well. Marty prayed the weather would soon warm up so Kate might be able to get out and put some color back into her cheeks. Dear Kate. She was so brave about it all. Marty wondered about the little room. Had they left it the same? She hadn’t had the heart to ask. With God’s help, they would soon be needing it again.
Twenty-One
Lane Comes for Supper
“Look who I talked into joinin’ us fer supper,” Clark announced, and Marty looked up expecting to see Clare entering her door. Instead it was Lane who stood silently in the doorway, nervously pulling off his mittens.
“Lane! How nice to see ya!”
Marty felt, more than saw, Ellie’s head lift.
“We’ve been missin’ ya,” Marty went on. “How’re things goin’ at the LaHayes’?”
“Fine,” answered Lane. “Just fine. Had a letter from the boss yesterday. He says the folks will be home next week. Mr. LaHaye, Willie’s pa, has decided to stay on out west. Willie’s brother might even go out there an’ join ’em iffen he can find a buyer fer his place.”
“He wants to sell?” Marty’s voice held surprise.
“Guess he kinda likes the West,” explained Lane.
“Well, come on in and warm yer hands by the fire,” Marty invited. “We’re havin’ a nice roasted chicken fer supper, an’ I think Ellie has got fresh corn bread bakin’ to go with it.”
As Lane moved into the room, Marty added, “Me, now, I just sit around all day an’ watch folks work.”
The group laughed comfortably and moved toward the table.
Lane had not dared to look directly at Ellie. He wondered if she would be able to read his thoughts.
He had pondered much how he could support Ellie, as his wife, if he stayed in the area. True, he could farm. He knew a bit about taking care of farm animals now, but he still knew nothing about planting and raising crops. He could learn, he told himself. He could ask. He would beg for the information—down on his knees if need be—if it meant having Ellie. But then, there was the matter of money. In the West, the prices were still right for the man who was brave enough to want to strike out on his own. In this farming area, all the land had already been taken and farmed. Those who might wish to sell were demanding a high price for their farms. Lane knew; he had already been inquiring. Take Willie’s brother, for instance. The price he was looking for was so far from what Lane would ever be able to afford that the banker would likely laugh in his face.
No, there just appeared to be no way. No way at all that Lane could see he could ever make a decent living for Ellie in the area. And Ellie could not hurt her mama by going west. It seemed like a dead end to Lane.
He avoided Ellie’s eyes so she could not read the pain in his own. Perhaps it didn’t matter that much to Ellie, he reasoned. Perhaps she did not care for him in the way that he cared for her. There were many farm boys around about who would be more than happy to provide Ellie with a home of her own. Lane had seen that fact the night of the social. Ellie would be much better off—happier maybe—with one of them. And, more than anything else in the world, Lane wanted Ellie’s happiness.
“I thought when ya said ya’d found someone to share our table,” Marty was saying to Clark, “thet ya walked over with Clare an’ Kate. They are joinin’ us tonight, too.”
Clark’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful,” he said. “Thet must mean Kate is beginnin’ to feel better. It’ll be great to have some of the family back again.”
Ellie moved gracefully about the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the table and dishing up the inviting food. Lane watched Ellie when he was sure she wouldn’t notice. From the kitchen window she took a small violet with soft blossoms of deep purple to place in the center of the table. “Almost matches Kate’s beautiful eyes,” she said to Marty.
“So the LaHayes might be leavin’ us?” Clark was saying, pushing a chair over to Lane. “Never thought they would be thet taken by Willie’s West. Does grow on one, though.”
Lane thought of the West. He loved it. Grow on one? He couldn’t imagine one could live any place in the world that could be any more appealing.
“S’pose yer rather anxious to git back yerself?” Clark was saying.
Lane wished to be truthful, and he hardly knew how to respond to Clark’s question. “Guess there are things ’bout here thet grow on one, too” was all he said, glad when Clark did not question him further.
Tramping on the porch announced the coming of Kate and Clare, and Clark moved to the door to welcome them and take their coats. He kissed Kate on the forehead and told her how good it was to have her able to join them.
Clare and Lane shook hands vigorously. Though it had been only a matter of an hour or two since they had been together in the woods, they had fallen into an easy camaraderie that Lane deeply appreciated.
Clark assigned seats around the table, and all of them took their places. Clark took his usual seat at the end of the table, and Marty sat opposite him at the other end. Kate and Clare sat to Clark’s left, and Lane and Ellie were left with the places on Clark’s right. Lane was very conscious of Ellie’s closeness, but he was thankful he would not need to look into her eyes over the table.
The talk was cheery and light. Even Kate joined in with a sparkle in her eyes. Ellie was the only quiet one in the group. She stayed very occupied with making sure the bowls were kept full of food and the bread plate refilled. She fussed pouring coffee and took longer than necessary preparing the dessert. Marty wonde
red if she had taken time to eat anything.
After the meal was over, Clark threw more logs on the open fire in the living room fireplace and invited the others to sit and enjoy its warmth. Marty began to help with the dishes, but Ellie sent her from the kitchen, saying that Kate needed her in the living room far more than she needed her in the kitchen. Marty was finally convinced and joined the family there.
Lane puttered around, feeling rather self-conscious. He poked at the fire occasionally, adding a comment to the conversation now and then to fulfill his social obligations, and found himself shifting pillows around and around in his chair. With all of his being he ached to be in the kitchen with Ellie, yet he dared not go. He was sure he could not be trusted—he was bound to blunder and make some comment or plea that would let her know how much he cared for her. He mustn’t. He knew that he mustn’t. To do so would only hurt her more, and Lane could not bring her pain.
If only he could leave, he kept thinking. It was pure agony just sitting there listening to the family talk.
All the while his ears strained toward the kitchen. He heard every sound Ellie was making. He knew just how far she had progressed in the washing and drying of the dishes. There . . . she was placing the clean ones back on the cupboard shelves. Now the cutlery. Then the cups on the hooks. She wiped the table and the cupboard. Her cloth went swish, swish as she circled the inside of the dishpan before pouring out the dishwater. Now she was replacing the pan on the hook and hanging up the dish towels—evenly—to dry beside the big black cook stove. There . . . she was done. She would be removing her apron and wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. Would she join them, or would she excuse herself and go to her room?
Ellie entered quietly and took a chair by the fire. She sat looking into the flames, as though looking for a message there.
The evening had not gone well for Ellie. It was the first time she had really seen Lane since . . . since Christmas, except for gatherings such as the church services and the funeral for Kate and Clare’s baby. She had wondered just what to say when she did see him. What would he say? Would he ask her if she had reconsidered? Pa had said Lane wouldn’t give up that easily. Well, it appeared he had. Perhaps he hadn’t really cared that much after all. But he did, Ellie argued within herself. She was sure of it. Then why did he say nothing . . . do nothing? Was he afraid he would be refused again? Ellie was troubled. It was hardly the place of a girl to . . . No, she wouldn’t even think about it.
Ellie tried to join in with the conversation, but she soon knew it was no use. She excused herself and went back to the kitchen. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fixed a plate of scraps for Rex and quietly let herself out of the house.
Lane stuck it out for a few more minutes. He had been right. Ellie didn’t really care that much. He finally thanked his host and hostess for the good meal and told them he really should be heading for home if he was to be of use to the men in the woods the next day. The logging for the winter was almost completed. The sawing and chopping would come next.
Clark and Clare both rose to their feet with the intention of going with Lane for his horse, but he waved them both back to their chairs.
“Be no need,” he assured them. “Stay here by the fire and enjoy the good company. Me, I know where ol’ Jack is.”
He let himself out and walked silently to the barn, his heart heavy. Next week, his heart kept saying, next week and I’ll be gone.
He opened the barn door and was surprised to see the soft glow of the lantern. He wasn’t aware that the Davises left a light in the barn at night. That was risky, and no farmer ever—
And then Lane saw Ellie, her head bowed over the nearly grown Rex. She was stroking him gently, and tears glistened on her cheeks.
Lane did not know whether to make his presence known or to walk home, leaving his horse. At that moment Ellie raised her head. She gasped slightly and rose to her feet.
“I . . . I . . . just came to bring ’im his supper,” she explained quickly.
Lane cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say. “He’s really growin’, ain’t he?” he finally stammered.
Ellie brushed self-consciously at her tears. “Sure is.” She tried a chuckle, pushing back the tail-wagging Rex.
There was silence.
“Ya goin’ home?” Ellie finally asked.
“Yeah. I was. I . . . I . . . thanks fer thet good supper. Sure beats my batchin’ meals.”
“Yer welcome. Anytime. Guess ya won’t need to batch much longer, huh?”
“Guess not.” A pause. “Sure beats Cookie’s meals, too, though.”
They both laughed halfheartedly.
Ellie reached and scooped up the dish in which she had brought Rex’s supper. “When will ya be wantin’ Rex?” she asked, “or will ya be able to take ’im?”
“Oh, I’ll take ’im,” Lane hurried to answer. He didn’t add that he wasn’t sure how he was going to get a dog out west on the train. There must be some way, he thought.
“I wasn’t sure what a rancher would do with a cattle dog,” Ellie said. “Rex is gonna be real good with cattle. He already can bring them in from the pasture. Watches their heels real good, too. He’d be great as a farm dog.”
“Wish I could be a farmer,” Lane said slowly.
Ellie showed surprise. “Thought ya loved the West an’ ranchin’ an’—”
“Oh, I do. I do, but I’d . . .” Lane stopped. “Look, Ellie,” he said, “we gotta talk an’ we can’t talk here. Can we go back to the kitchen or . . . or somethin’?”
“We can walk.”
“Ya won’t be too cold?”
“This is a warm coat.”
Ellie put down the dish again and reached for the lantern. Lane thought she was going to take it with her, but instead she carried it to the open door, blew it out, and set it up against the barn.
“Don’t want to chance a fire,” she explained. “Pa lost a barn once.”
They turned toward the lane. Overhead the winter sky was clear. Stars—multitudes of stars—twinkled above them. A pale yellowy moon showed its last quarter. The wind lightly rustled the frosted branches of the trees. They walked in silence.
But the silence didn’t last too long.
“I still have thet locket,” Lane said.
“Oh?”
“I’d still like ya to have it . . . even though . . . even though . . .” He decided to change his approach. “I said back there thet I’d like to be a farmer. Well, what I meant was thet . . . thet iffen there was any way so’s I could stay in the area so thet . . . well, so thet . . . but try as I might, I can’t think of any way to come up with the money it would take fer a farm.”
“Ya found thet ya like farmin’ better than ranchin’?”
Lane wanted to be truthful. “No,” he said. “No, I reckon I still like ranchin’ the best.”
“Then why would ya want to farm?”
“I . . . I thought you would know thet.”
Ellie stopped and leaned her arms on the corral fence. Lane stopped beside her.
“Ellie,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Ellie, I love ya. I know I have little to offer. Not near what a man should be offerin’ a woman. I know ya said thet ya can’t go out west ’cause it would break yer mama’s heart. I’d stay here an’ farm or work in town iffen only there was some way . . . some way to . . . to make a decent livin’ fer ya. I’ve laid awake nights tryin’ to sort it all out, but—”
Ellie laid a hand on his arm and Lane stopped in midsentence.
“Lane,” she said softly, “ya said ya still have thet locket.”
He was puzzled at her interruption but nodded his agreement.
“Do ya have it here?”
Lane lifted a hand to his inside breast pocket.
“Right here,” he said.
“I think I’d like it now,” whispered Ellie.
Lane pulled forth the locket with trembling hands.
“Would ya fasten it, please?” asked Ellie
.
Ellie pulled aside her hair and turned around so Lane could fasten the locket around her neck. His fingers felt clumsy, and he wondered if he’d ever get the tiny clasp fastened. By some miracle he did. Ellie turned back around and, standing on tiptoe, placed a kiss on Lane’s cheek. “Thank ya,” she whispered.
Lane felt like he was going to come apart—hope and fear colliding in his chest.
“Ellie, please. Don’t tease,” he pleaded.
“I’m not teasin’.”
“But—”
“A moment ago, ya said thet ya loved me.”
“I . . . I . . . do—”
“An’ I accepted yer gift, given with yer love.”
“But the kiss—”
“Lane,” interrupted Ellie, “I would never kiss a man I didn’t love.”
“But what about yer mama? Ya said—”
“I had a talk with my mama . . . after my pa had a talk with me. Both of ’em say I have to make my own life . . . thet they want my happiness wherever it leads me. Iffen it’s the West, then—”
But Lane stopped her. “Oh, Ellie,” he said, his voice sounding choked. He drew her close to him.
They walked and talked a long time in the crisp moonlight. At last they heard the door slam and voices over the frosty night air, and they knew Clare and Kate were on their way home.
“It must be gittin’ late,” sighed Ellie.
“Too late fer a chat with yer pa?”
Ellie smiled at him. “Don’t s’pose it’s thet late,” she assured him, and they walked hand in hand toward the house.
Twenty-Two
Ma Comes Calling
The time for Marty’s confinement was drawing near. Thinking about Ma Graham, she was concerned she had not seen her for such a long time. She knew that Ma had her family, but Marty felt maybe Ma needed her, too.
Their previous plans for Ellie to go and pick up Ma for a nice, long visit had not materialized. The unexpected birth and then the loss of Kate’s baby had wiped away all thoughts of the visit from their minds. Now Marty was ready to try again. She wasn’t sure if it was because she thought Ma needed her or because she knew she needed Ma.
