Love's Enduring Promise (Love Comes Softly Series #2)

by Janette Oke

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  some much-needed repairs.

  Tessie, their only girl, was plain but pleasant. Marty took to her immediately. Nathan, the older boy, was rather outspoken for a boy of his age. He appeared to feel smugly confident about his own wit and ability. The younger boy, Willie, had a sparkle in his brown eyes that endeared him to Marty, and at the same time warned her. No telling what this youngster would think to try.

  "How old are ya, Willie?" Marty asked.

  "Nine," he responded, good-naturedly. "I been in school before. Took three grades already."

  Marty was wondering if he was thinking that that put him in a class by himself, for it was a well-known fact that none of the children in the area had as yet had any formal education.

  "Guess ya'll be able to help the kids here quite a bit then," Marty said and watched carefully for Willie's reaction.

  "Some of 'em," he said carelessly. "If I want to. Some--" he hesitated. "I might help her," he said with a grin, pointing a finger.

  Marty followed the pointed index finger and noted with a bit of alarm that the "her" on the other end was none other than Missie.

  "Don't expect she'll need more help than the teacher can give," she said. "She's just startin' first grade, an' she already knows her letters and numbers."

  Willie shrugged again and continued to grin. "Might help her enyway," he said; then he was off on a run to rejoin the other children.

  Marty turned back to the adult conversation at hand. The LaHayes were leaving early. He had much to do. Shouldn't really have taken the time off, but his wife fussed about gettin' the boys in school. Well, they'd better git on home. He had a pasture to fence to supply his cattle with better grazin'. Glad to make acquaintance. They'd look forward to Sunday dinner--and they were gone.

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  Chapter 16

  School Begins

  Monday morning, instead of being bright and sunny as had been ordered, dawned overcast and showery. Missie despaired as she looked out of the window.

  "My new blue dress will get all wet," she wailed. "An' so will my brand new hair ribbons."

  Clark came to the rescue by offering to hitch up the team to drive the girls to school. This idea met with unanimous approval, and Missie's cheerful disposition returned even if the sun did not shine.

  Marty carefully packed lunches and supervised the combing of hair and cleaning of fingernails. She didn't know who felt the most excitement, but was almost sure that it was a close race between Missie and herself.

  Clark decided that Clare and Arnie should go along for the ride in spite of the drizzly day.

  "They won't melt," he said, "an' it will be good fer 'em to feel a part of the action."

  The breakfast prayer that morning included the three new scholars--that they would study well, show their teacher due respect, and use what they would learn for the bettering of self and all mankind.

  After the meal was over the excited group left the house, and Clark bundled the girls in the wagon to keep the rain off

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  their new clothes. Clare and Arnie, feeling proud and important, took their places beside Clark on the wagon seat. Marty felt a thickness in her throat as she watched the eager faces, taking particular note of Missie's shining eyes. And they were off.

  "First school, then marriage, an' gone fer good," she said softly. " 'Fore we know it, they'll all be gone--one by one."

  She brushed the tears from her eyes and turned back to the dishes. Soon Clark would return with Clare and Arnie, and all the work of their care and entertainment would fall on her now that the girls were away. She must hurry through her morning tasks in order to be ready to spend much of this rainy day amusing two restless little boys.

  The boys returned and Clark brought them in. Marty changed them into dry clothes and made suggestions as to what they might like to do. She had thought herself prepared for what was in store but found that it was even worse than what she had imagined.

  Arnie fussed and refused to be pacified with toys. Clare insisted that he should be able to go to school, too. When Marty failed to be convinced, he plagued her to let him go out to play. She pointed out the window at the crying sky, but Clare only whined and seemed to imply that Marty could do something about the weather if she would just put her mind to it.

  Marty gave them each a cookie. Arnie shared his with Miss Puss and immediately undid all of his kindness by deliberately pulling the kitten's tail. She responded by scratching his hand. Arnie's howl brought Clare on the run. He chased the cat behind the kitchen stove and proceeded to poke at her with the broom handle. Marty sent Clare to sit on a chair and washed and cared for the scratches on Arnie's hand.

  By mid-morning the clouds cleared away and the sun returned. Marty was glad to give in to Clare's coaxing to go outside. She was afraid that he would stay out only long enough to get thoroughly wet, but even that would give her some measure of respite.

  As she suspected, the puddles drew Clare like a magnet, but he played in them only long enough to become wet and muddy

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  and then returned to the door complaining that there was nothing to do. Marty despaired as she cleaned him up. What would she ever do with them through this long, long day?

  Noon finally arrived and Clark came in for lunch. The boys squealed with delight and Marty heaved a sigh of relief. At least here was a little release, and after the meal she could tuck them in for a nap.

  But the nap-time didn't go well either. Arnie fussed and fretted--unusual for him--and Clare never did go to sleep.

  The seemingly endless day finally righted itself when the three girls came home. Arnie ran to Nandry with a glad cry, and Clare began questioning Missie to see if she had really learned anything. Clae stood by smiling demurely as though she had some great secret.

  Marty had to force herself into the circle to be seen and heard.

  "How'd it go?"

  "Oh, Mama," cried Missie, "it's jest so great! Guess what I learned--jest guess. Here I'll show ya."

  "I want to see," said Marty, "an' I can hardly wait, but first how 'bout ya all change yer school dresses an' hang 'em up nice."

  The girls went to comply.

  The time following was spent telling of the day's many activities. Only Nandry had nothing to say. Missie babbled on and on about the teacher, the other kids, the new work, her desk, and the poor fire in the pot-bellied stove.

  "Know what? I don't think Mr. Whittle ever built a fire afore. From now on Silas Stern is gonna build it. It smoked awful."

  "I like Mary Lou Coffins. She's my favorite friend--'cept fer Faith Graham."

  The Coffins were new to the area.

  Missie continued, a twinkle in her eye.

  "Guess what?" she said in a whisper. "Nathan LaHaye likes Clae."

  Clae blushed and protested.

  "He does too," declared Missie; "he pulled her braids an' everythin'."

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  Marty had no idea what the everythin' might be.

  Then Missie's eyes took on fire. "But I hate thet Willie LaHaye. He's a show-off."

  "Missie--shame on ya," admonished Marty. "We are not to hate anyone."

  "Bet God didn't know 'bout Willie LaHaye when He made thet rule," Missie declared with venom. "Nobody could love him."

  "What did he do thet was so terrible?"

  "He reads--he reads real loud--he reads everythin'--even the eighth primer. He thinks he's smart. An' he teases too. He said thet I'm too cute to be dumb. He said he'd help me. I said, 'No, you won't, an' he jest laughed an' said, 'Wait an' see.' Boy, he thinks he's smart. I wish my Tommie were there."

  Missie tossed her head in such a fashion that Marty wondered where her little girl had so suddenly gone, to be replaced by this arrogant creature who deemed herself a young lady.

  "Please," thought Marty, "don't let school change her thet much--thet fast," but the next moment the little girl was back again.

  "Can I lick thet dish, Mama? I got so hungr
y today, an' guess what, Mama? Mary Lou has a shiny red pail to carry her lunch in. Could I have one too, Mama? It has a handle on it to carry it by and the letters on it are white."

  "What kinda pail is it?"

  "I don't know yet. I don't know the words, but it's so pretty, isn't it, Clae?"

  Clae agreed that it was.

  "Could I git one, Mama, please?" coaxed Missie.

  "I don't know dear; we'll have to see." Marty was noncommittal.

  "I don't like carryin' my lunch in thet old thing," pouted Missie. "Mary Lou's is lots nicer."

  "We'll see," was as far as Marty would go.

  The subject of school was dropped for the moment, but Missie picked it up again after supper when she had her father's attention.

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  "An' Mary Lou has a shiny red pail fer her lunch--with white letters an' a handle. Could I have one too, Pa, please?"

  "Are shiny red lunch pails necessary fer learnin'?" Clark asked.

  "Not fer learnin'--fer lookin' nice," Missie said with determination.

  At least she's honest, thought Marty.

  "We'll see," said her pa.

  "Thet's what Mama said," Missie objected.

  "Ya have a wise Mama," Clark told her, not at all moved by her cajoling.

  Missie wrinkled her nose but said no more. She knew when she had reached her limit. She'd let the matter drop for the present.

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  Chapter 17

  School Days

  The days fell into a routine. Gradually the two boys accepted the fact of the girls' absence and adjusted their play to include one another.

  The girls settled into a pattern of learning. Missie was quick and eager and was soon leading her class even without the help of Willie LaHaye. Clae, too, had taken to school and surprised and delighted both the teacher and the Davises with her ability. She loved books and would have spent all of her time buried in them had she been allowed to do so. Only Nandry seemed to drag her feet at the thought each morning of another day spent in school. Marty noticed it and wished that there was some way that she could help the girl. She knew that most of the beginners in the school were much younger than Nandry and that this in itself would be a discouragement to her. Marty endeavored to encourage without prodding.

  Missie was the one who furnished the household with news of school. One day she came home giggling and even Clae joined in.

  "Guess what? When Mr. Whittle goes to yell loud, his voice goes from way deep to a funny squeak." Missie demonstrated. Marty tried hard to retain the proper parental attitude of teacher respect. "The big boys like to make 'im yell so

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  thet it happens. It sounds so funny, Mama, an' then he gits real red-like an' growls real low--like this." Missie growled as well as a six-year-old girl could.

  "So," thought Marty, "he did cultivate his low voice, and doesn't always have it under control."

  "I hope thet ya don't laugh at yer teacher," she said solemnly.

  Missie hung her head, but when she raised it her eyes sparkled.

  "Bet you'd laugh," she said, and hurried on, "but I jest laughed a little bit."

  Missie also had frequent reports on "thet Willie LaHaye." Willie LaHaye had dipped her hair ribbon in an ink-well. Willie LaHaye had chased her with a dead mouse. Willie LaHaye had put a grasshopper in her lunch box. An' Willie LaHaye had carved her initials with his on a tree by the crik an' she'd scratched 'em out.

  An' furthermore, she hated thet Willie LaHaye, an' she bet thet God didn't even care.

  Thet dumb ole Willie LaHaye.

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  Chapter 18

  Somethin' New

  Clark made his usual trip to town on Saturday. Marty was glad that there was no good reason for her to go along. She might have enjoyed the break, being sure now that the girls were quite capable of caring for things while she was gone, if it hadn't been that to go to town meant facing Mrs. McDonald. The woman never failed to get Marty in an emotional corner. Marty declared that she'd rather face a bear or an Indian.

  Indeed, Marty had faced very few Indians since she had come west and those that she had seen seemed harmless enough. Most of the Indians in their area had been moved on into the hill country and settled on a reserve set apart for them. Some wondered how they ever managed to survive there, but most contented themselves with the fact that an Indian was an Indian, and meant to survive on very little. In general the feeling of the settlers was "live and let live." As long as the Indian was no threat to their well-being, they were content to let him ride the hills hunting for his meat and tanning necessary hides. On the other hand, they felt no responsibility for, or obligation to, the welfare of the Indian.

  As for the bear--Marty was glad that she had never had reason to concern herself with one of those either. Like the Indian, they were content to remain in their native hills, away from the smell and the guns of the settlers. Occasionally a

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  neighbor lad felt that he must venture into the hills and return with a bearskin to place on the cabin floor or hang above the fireplace. This was a prestige symbol rather than a necessity.

  Still, even when gazing at the huge fur hide with the head still carrying the fierce beady eyes and the long yellow teeth, Marty felt that either the bear or the Indian must be preferable to Mrs. McDonald, so Marty avoided town, somewhat ashamed of herself for doing so, yet content in her weakness.

  The day passed quickly. Marty always looked forward to Saturdays. It gave her a chance to catch up on many odd jobs because the girls kept the little boys out from under her feet.

  Tomorrow would be a special Sunday. The new schoolteacher would be coming to share the Sunday dinner with them. Marty both anticipated and dreaded it. What was this odd-looking man really like? Missie brought home both good and evil reports--one moment praising him, the next condemning his strange conduct, and the next breaking into uncontrollable giggles over his silly deportment.

  Marty had set aside her freshly baked pies and was carefully cleaning two young roosters when Clark arrived.

  As usual, his return brought the children running to meet him. Marty, watching from the window, saw Clark climb slowly and carefully down from the wagon. At first Marty felt a concern pass swiftly through her, wondering if Clark had somehow been injured, but he walked spryly as he headed for the house, the youngsters in tow. Marty noticed then that he carried something inside his jacket--there was a bulge there and he seemed to be carefully guarding it as he walked. The children had spied the bump, too, and their curiosity was as intense as Marty's, but Clark just grinned and motioned them on to the house.

  "Now, what he be up to?" mused Marty, as she watched the little cavalcade draw nearer. Soon they were all inside, the children clamoring:

  "What is it, Pa?"

  "Whatcha got, huh?"

  "Show us, Pa!"

  Clark pulled back his jacket and a tawny, curly head

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  poked out. Sharp little eyes blinked at the sudden light, and the commotion about him brought a glad wiggle to the little body. Shrieks filled the air and each of the children pleaded to be the first to hold him.

  "We start with the littlest first," said Clark, handing the squirming bundle to Arnie. Arnie giggled as he held the puppy close. It was the first time that Arnie had ever had a face-wash from a puppy's warm tongue. His eyes sparkled.

  "Little boys and puppies belong together," thought Marty. Arnie must have thought so, too, for he was most reluctant to pass the puppy on to Clare.

  As the children enthused over the new pup, Marty found opportunity to speak to Clark.

  "Where'd ya git 'im?"

  "The smithie's dog had a litter. Jest big enough now to wean. This one lopks like the pick o' the pack to me." "Sure a cutie."

  "Yeah, an' look at the eyes--the head--looks like a smart 'un."

  The children had finally agreed to put the puppy down so that they could watch it waddle and prance across the kitchen floor.


  "Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" they cried, giggling and clapping at his silly antics.

  "Well," said Clark, "let's take 'im out an' see what Ole Bob thinks of 'im."

  Ole Bob was truly becoming old Bob. His legs were stiff and unaccommodating. His eyes were getting dim, and his movements slow. Clark and Marty had realized that Bob's days were numbered, but perhaps with care, he could be with them for several months yet.

  The family followed Clare, who was carrying the puppy out to the doghouse where Ole Bob resided. Bob came out slowly, stretching his stiff muscles, and wagged a greeting to them all. As the puppy was placed on the ground, Bob lowered his head slowly and sniffed. He didn't seem impressed, but he wasn't angered either. The puppy, upon being presented to one of his kind, went wild with excitement, bouncing and bobbing

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  around on his unsteady feet like a funny wind-up toy whose spring would not run down. Ole Bob put up with his ridiculous display for a few moments, then walked away and lay down. The puppy toddled after him and began to tug at and wrestle his long fluffy tail. Bob chose to ignore him, as the children shrieked.

  Eventually the puppy was left with Ole Bob. Clark and the boys went to put away the team and unload the wagon. The girls, after filling the puppy's little tummy with warm milk, returned to the chores they had been assigned. Each one had been advised to consider a name for the new dog. This would be discussed and settled at the supper table.

  Marty went in to finish washing the chickens and clean the cupboard top, so that Clark and the boys could place the groceries there for her to put away.

  As she went through the bags and boxes, she suddenly stopped short.

  "What's this?" she asked, for the pails were clearly marked LARD. "I didn't have me lard on my list, did I? I got lard stacked up high from our last butcherin'."