by Janette Oke
She fought for her composure, paid for the purchases and gathered her parcels. They made quite a load and she wished that she had accepted Clark's offer to return to help her.
"All them fancy things ain't fer those girls, are they? Seems to me thet stuck way out there on yer farm, ya could jest as leave patch up their old things."
"The girls will be goin' to school come September." Marty said the words firmly. There was just a trace of pride in her voice. Before Mrs. McDonald could say anything further, Marty headed for the door with quick, firm steps.
As she entered the street the commotion from the wagon train was even more intense. The teams were lined up now, ready to leave within a few minutes. Horses still stomped, dogs still barked, and children still yelled, but the bartering of the men was over and the last-minute purchases of the women had been made. People stood in clusters by the wagons saying farewells and giving last-minute messages to be passed on to someone at the other end of the journey.
The third wagon back must be a passenger wagon, Marty decided, for miscellaneous and sundry people seemed to be aboard it. The canvas, for the present, was down and several plank seats had been placed across the wagon box. Most of the passengers appeared to be making a journey of short duration, perhaps to a nearby larger center, for they travelled light. They appeared to be men on business or women going out to shop or visit. Some of them had young family members with
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them, whose faces showed anticipation at the prospect of the trip.
In the midst of the clamor and excitement sat a white- faced somber-eyed lady with three small children. One child cried, another clung to his mother fearfully, and the third and oldest sat hollow-cheeked and drawn apart.
"Thet's Miz Talbot from the other side of town," said a voice at Marty's shoulder, and she turned slightly to see that Mrs. McDonald had come from the store to get in on all of the activity.
"Never should 'ave come west," she stated; "not made of the right stuff. She's leavin'. Goin' back."
Her words were clipped and biting. Marty looked at the poor girl and wished with all of her heart that she had had a chance to speak with her.
Suddenly through the crowd a young man came pushing, almost at a run. The oldest child jumped to his feet, arms open wide, and squealed with delight. The woman looked alarmed. Marty could not hear the words, but she sensed that the man was arguing and pleading for the woman to stay, but she set her lips tightly and shook her head. Finally she turned her back on him completely, her shoulders held stiff and stubborn.
The order of "move out" was given, and with a creak and a grind the cumbersome wagons began to move forward. The man had to disentangle himself from the arms of the crying child and gently push him back into the wagon. The child screamed and shouted after him, and Marty thought for one terrifying moment that he was going to jump.
"All his life he'll wish he had left those two little arms around his neck and kept thet young boy with him," Marty thought.
The wagon moved on past her. She could not see the woman's face, but she noticed that her shoulders had lost their defiance and were now shaking convulsively.
"Oh, you stubborn thing," Marty's heart cried; "go back--go back," but the wagon moved on.
Marty turned to see the man, hands over his face, leaning
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against a hitching rail for support, the sobs wrenching his whole body.
A sickness filled her whole being. It was wrong, it was wicked, it was so cruel to tear a family apart like that.
"Good riddance, seys I," said the voice beside her, and Marty turned quickly away and stumbled across the street to the waiting wagon.
Clark placed her bundles in the wagon box and helped her up. Then the team, at his command, moved out of town.
They had gone some distance in silence, the warm summer sun shining down upon late flowers waving at the sides of the road, birds dipping back and forth in the path of the team. Marty's anger and hurt had somewhat subsided, but her confused thoughts still fought to sort it all out.
Suddenly she felt her hand gripped tightly and looked up into Clark's probing eyes.
"So ya saw it too, huh?" he questioned.
She shook her head dumbly, her eyes filling with tears. He squeezed her hand.
"Oh, Clark," she said when she finally felt controlled enough to speak. "It was so wrong, so awful, an'--an'--it could have been me," she finished lamely.
"But it wasn't," he answered firmly; "it wasn't, an'-- somehow--somehow, I really don't think thet it ever could've been."
Marty looked up in surprise to meet his even gaze. Their unspoken communication somehow assured her.
"No," she finally said with conviction, "no, maybe it never could've."
Clark was right for her--so right. Their love was strong and good. The good Lord had so prepared them for each other-- even when Marty didn't know Him, and had loathed the thought of staying on with Clark. Yes, their love had promise--enduring promise.
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Chapter 14
The Family
Marty's next few weeks were busy ones. Besides the usual daily chores and caring for the garden, she had the sewing to do for the Larson girls. Nandry seemed to accept the new things as unconsequential, but Clae's eyes took on a shine. Marty found herself instructing the young girl in the art of sewing and discovered her to be a good student. This pleased them both and Clae was encouraged to do more and more. Nandry also was shown how to sew, but though she went through the motions, and did well enough at it, she never seemed to be too enthused. She was much more interested in caring for Arnie and entertaining Clare. Nandry's contribution to the household was much appreciated. With the two small boys out from underfoot, Marty's and Clae's sewing progressed without interruption, as did the other tasks that needed to be done.
Clark looked at the finished garments and smiled his approval. His girls would all look "jest fine a-sittin' in thet new schoolroom," he declared. Nandry flushed and Clae beamed at being included as his girls.
Marty began to notice little things concerning Nandry and wondered if indeed the young girl maybe "overcared" for her benefactor. Clark's appearance was the only thing that ever brought a change of expression to Nandry's face, and Marty often caught her watching Clark as he went about the yard. She noticed as Nandry set the table that Clark's plate and
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cutlery were arranged with special care.
"I think thet I'll be plum glad to git thet girl off to school," she told herself one day and immediately reprimanded herself.
"Ya silly young goose," she scolded, coloring in spite of herself. "Here ya are havin' jealous pangs over a mere child."
It surprised her somewhat to discover her jealousy. She had never been in a situation to feel threatened before, never having had to share Clark with anyone but her children.
"God, fergive me," she prayed, "an' help me not to be selfish with the man I love. Nandry is growin' up, perhaps too quickly, but it be by no choice of her own. She didn't have much to look up to in her own pa, an' now seem' a man, thoughtful an' carin', hardworkin' an' with humor in his eyes, no wonder she admires 'im like. Enyway, Lord, help me to be wise an' to be just. Help me to love Nandry an' to help her through these painful years of growin' up. Help Clark, too. Give 'im wisdom in his carin'."
Marty made no mention of her observations to Clark. There was no use drawing his attention to something of which he seemed to be completely unaware. It could accomplish no good, and perhaps would only serve to put an unnatural restraint between the man and the girl, and Nandry so much needed to be able to reach out to people. Secretly, Marty hoped that Clark would never realize that the young girl was nursing a "crush."
For the most part Clark was away in the fields, and though Nandry cared for the chickens and the little ones in comparative silence, Marty still observed the looking-off in the direction that Clark was working, and the flush of the cheeks when he entered the house. Clark never did seem to n
otice and teased each of his girls equally.
Missie was still number one and being only "goin' on six" could still climb on her pa's knee, insist on combing his hair, or curl up beside him under the shelter of his arm.
Clare was his "helper" and followed his father wherever his young steps were able. It often meant a piggyback return, for the young Clare played out quickly.
Arnie's tottering steps determined to follow Pa also, and
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Marty, looking out of the window, often shook her head at the patient Clark trying to chore with two small boys assisting him, making his tasks most difficult, yet enjoyable.
Though patient and loving with his family, Clark was very firm, and Marty at times had to bite her tongue when she felt that Clark was expecting a bit much for their tender years. She would have coddled them, Clark would not, for he had a strong conviction that what was learned through discipline in early years would not have to be learned through more painful lessons later on.
Clae seemed almost to forget that she had ever lived elsewhere but with the Davises; and though she did not call Clark and Marty Pa and Ma, Marty felt that she truly looked on them as such. She openly admired Clark and enjoyed his teasing, even teasing back in return, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
So they adjusted to one another and began to feel as a family. Morning worship was a special time. The two oldest girls listened carefully to things that they had never heard before, while Missie and Clare coaxed for their favorite Bible stories.
The days passed quickly. Enough of the sewing was done so that the girls at least could start school dressed appropriately. Marty would finish the rest as she found the time.
Missie's excitement grew. Marty felt that she was on the verge of hysteria and tried to slow her down. Clark just laughed and said to let her enjoy it. Daily, Missie changed her mind about what she would wear on her first day, going from plaid, to grey, to blue, to plaid again--over and over. Finally she settled on the blue because she liked her blue hair ribbons the best. Her only sorrow was that Tommie would not be there.
"I'm gonna marry Tommie," she informed Clae. "Yer only five," Clae responded.
"Almost six, an' I'll grow," Missie retorted.
"But Tommie's most twenty."
"So!" said Missie, and that settled it.
Marty felt that it would indeed be good for Missie to have more contact with other children. She'd be right glad when school was finally in session.
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Chapter 15
The New Teacher
The Saturday before school was to begin was a special day for the whole community. A meeting was called at the schoolhouse for all interested parties. It was a chance for the parents and children to meet Mr. Wilbur Whittle, and vice versa. Marty supposed that there wasn't a home in the whole area that wasn't touched by the excitement.
The meeting was scheduled for two o'clock and the ladies had decided to serve coffee and cake at its closing. "Eatin' together always breaks the ice, so to speak," observed Mrs. Stern, who still had youngsters young enough to be sent to school.
At the Davis house the noon meal was hurried through and the dishes quickly done. Careful attention was then given to the grooming of each family member. Nandry and Clae had never looked better. Nandry still looked noncommittal, though Marty did see her glance at Clark for his appraisal. Clae, on the other hand, primped and preened. She was not unattractive and with her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed, she looked downright pretty. The fact that Clae had helped to sew the dress she wore filled her with pride. Marty sensed it and complimented her, making her rosy cheeks turn even rosier. Marty commented on Nandry's appearance as well. Nandry's eyes lit momentarily but she didn't allow herself a smile.
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Missie pranced around the house, excitement oozing out of every pore. She had Clare and little Arnie doing somersaults and jigs with her. Finally Clark and Marty were able to usher their brood out the door in some semblance of order.
It was a beautiful day for a meeting of neighbors and everyone seemed to turn out. The teams were tied at the far end of the lot and the folk gathered next to the schoolhouse, there not being enough room for them all to go inside.
Neighbor greeted neighbor, with good-natured talk flowing all around. The two spring babies were there. Little Elizabeth Anne was radiant with smiles and coos. She insisted on being held upright so that she wouldn't miss a thing, and even tried to sit on her own. A "bundle of wigglin' energy," her proud Grandma called her. Marty took a turn holding her and had to agree with the verdict.
Wanda and Cam were there with their new son. Everett Cameron DeWinton John--Marty thought it a big name for a small boy and was somewhat surprised to learn that his father had cut it down to plain "Rett." Rett had gained rapidly. He was already a big boy for his age, having quickly compensated for his size at birth.
"Look at thet, huh," his father boasted. "Look at thet fer a boy, an"im not yet five months. Gonna be a big fella thet 'un." He grinned broadly.
Marty agreed and took the baby. She held Rett for some time and finally had to acknowledge the little warning signals that shivered up her arms and to her heart. The baby did not move as a youngster should. When she raised him to her shoulder there wasn't the proper lift of his head. Something was wrong with this baby. She looked at his beaming mother, his boasting pa, and prayed that her eyes wouldn't betray her, that she would be proved wrong; but she could not shake the heavy feeling from her heart.
At ten past two the Watley wagon finally pulled in, bringing with them the new teacher. All eyes were on this man. Marty wasn't sure what any of them had expected, but she was willing to bet that none of them had pictured him as he was. Accustomed to seeing big, muscular men on the frontier,
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this one looked terribly out of place. Not only was he short, but very small of build and bone, and his sleeve size did not seem to have to expand one bit for his biceps from that which covered the slim wrist. What he lacked in size he seemed to endeavor to compensate with mustache. Though carefully tended and waxed on the ends, the furry appendage nearly hid the lower half of his face and stuck out beyond his face like handles on a walking plow.
His vest was a bright plaid material and he wore white spats. A bowler hat topped his small cocky head, and he spent a good deal of his time reaching for it, dusting it and then replacing it again.
Marty noted his eyes with approval. They looked both intelligent and just a trifle humorous.
Clark was to chair the meeting and he gave his welcome to Mr. Wilbur Whittle in a most courteous fashion. The people responded with applause. Clark then introduced the neighborhood families, having them stand together so that each family could be properly introduced and recognized. Mr. Whittle nodded at each one, but remained silent.
After all had been presented, the new teacher was given the floor. Marty expected to hear a small voice that would suit the small man, but was surprised when a deep bass voice emerged.
"Why, he musta practiced fer years to be able to do thet," she thought.
In spite of the deepness, Mr. Whittle's voice was not loud, and those listening had to strain to hear his words.
He expressed his pleasure at being selected to be the instructor in their school.
"Ya were all we could git," thought Marty.
He was charmed with the fine boarding place they had so thoughtfully provided.
"An' she was the only one with room," Marty admitted. He was gratified to behold the fine facilities and careful selection of instructional aids.
Marty wasn't sure just what he was referring to, so let that pass.
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He was looking forward to an amicable relationship with each one in the community, adult and child alike. He would look forward to further acquaintance, for he knew that it would be both stimulating and intellectually rewarding.
Classes would begin on the Monday next at nine o'clock sharp, the bell employed at five minutes of the hour. E
ach child was to be seated and ready to commence the opening exercises on the hour. No tardiness would be accepted. Two breaks of fifteen minutes each would be given during the day, and an hour at midday to allow for the partaking of the noon meal and a time of physical stimulation for the students. Classes would end at three o'clock p.m. each day.
The children would get the benefit of his undivided attention and unsurpassed education, he having been trained in one of the country's foremost institutions, recognized universally for its top-quality professors and its comprehensive and exhaustive courses.
He continued on for a few minutes more, but Marty's attention was diverted by Mrs. Vickers who leaned toward Mrs. Stern and whispered, rather loudly, "I hope he means he still 'tends to teach."
Mrs. Stern assured her that he did.
The meeting finally ended with the community crowd giving the teacher a loud round of applause, and he beaming on the group, withdrew, doffing his bowler hat.
Coffee and cake were served and visiting with the neighbors resumed. Clark sought out Marty to meet the new neighbors on the Larson place. She was happy to do so and excused herself from the ladies with whom she had been chatting.
The LaHayes seemed a nice couple. Mrs. LaHaye still looked thin and drawn but assured Marty that she was feeling much better and was sure that she'd soon be on her feet again. Arrangements were made for the LaHayes to join the Davises for Sunday dinner.
Mr. LaHaye was disappointed that his journey west was cut short of purpose, but was farmer enough to see the possibility of Jedd Larson's good farmland. He had plans for replacing the farmhouse and buildings, which had already undergone
