by Janette Oke
After some length of time the Rev. Watson declared that he was most eager to take the gospel to the people of sin- darkened western territory.
With the prospect of a minister who was willing to come, a meeting of the community was called to make final plans and preparations.
It was decided that he, too, would board at the Watleys'. Mr. Whittle's room was a large one and could accommodate another single bed and an extra desk. Mr. Whittle was delighted with this. It would be so good to renew acquaintance with the good Reverend, and it would be such a boost to his morale to have a stimulating conversation mate. Really, there was a great lack of intellectuals in this community. Then, too, his calling on the young Tessie had been accepted with favor, and he was most anxious to have someone to whom he could boast, just a little bit.
All in all, it was a most pleasant arrangement, and Mr. Whittle looked forward, in a personal way, to the coming of the new minister.
The Sunday meetings would be held in the schoolhouse. It would be cramped but they could squeeze in, so long as there was no need to move about.
Everyone bubbled with excitement at the prospect of their
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very own minister. It would be so good to have someone there permanently. In times of birth, death, or marriage, that's when a minister was needed--not just once or twice a year as he passed through the area.
Secretly, the good teacher hoped that it would not be too long before he personally would be putting to work the marrying talents of the new man.
True, he had a few things to work out yet--like where to live with a new bride. He could hardly move her in with him at the Watleys', though the thought had occurred to him. However, he was confident that these things would work themselves out.
The arrangements were made to bring the new parson out, and the people eagerly looked forward to the first meeting. The date was set for March 15, and the winter months promised to pass quickly.
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Chapter 24
Tommie
Shortly after Ellie arrived, Marty had a call from Ma. It was so good, not just to show off the new baby girl, but also to have a chance for a nice long chat. Ma's visit was full of news. Her face was flushed with it.
"I declare, Marty," she beamed as they settled to a cup of coffee, "I'm gonna have me another son-in-law."
Marty looked up in surprise.
"Really?" She caught some of the excitement from Ma. "Nellie?"
"Yeah, Nellie."
"I didn't know."
"Not many did. Don't know much about it myself. Nellie doesn't say much, an' the young man--well, I'm still marvellin' thet he finally got it said, him being as tight-lipped as he is."
"Who--?"
"Shem Vickers."
"No!"
Ma nodded with a grin.
" 'Magine thet. Never even really got to know the boy 'til the last few weeks. He's right nice--even if he don't have much to say."
Marty giggled. "Don't s'pose the poor fellow ever had a
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chance to develop his talking skills much. He sure oughta have first-rate ears though--iffen they're not already weared out."
Ma grinned silently.
"Yeah, Mrs. Vickers can talk 'nough fer a crowd." "When's the weddin' to be?"
"Most as soon as thet new parson gits here. Prob'ly April." Marty smiled.
"Well, thet's really nice. I'm so happy fer 'em both." Ma agreed.
"Nellie been a right fine girl. I'm gonna miss her, but she's
all excited-like with the plans fer a place of her own." "She'll make Shem a fine little wife, I'm sure o' thet." Marty passed Ma the cookies and then asked. "Ma, have
Ben and you talked over 'bout Tommie yet?"
Ma nodded, the happiness fading some from her face. "Yeah, we talked 'bout it. Then we talked to Tom, too. Ben, he doesn't seem too upset 'bout it. Oh, he was at first, but then he sorta jest seemed to think--what'll be, will be. But it ain't right, Marty. It will only mean hurt. I don't want Tommie hurt--nor the girl either, fer thet matter. Oh, I wisht it were all a bad dream."
Ma stopped and sat shaking her head, her eyes downcast.
"I'm sure thet it will work out," said Marty, trying to sound confident. "Tommie's a smart boy. Wen it's not gonna work, he'll know it."
"Tommie is too 'gone' to see enything," Ma replied. "Never saw a young man so dew-struck. Tommie wants to bring her to the house to meet Ben and me."
"Why shouldn't he?"
"I don't know, Marty. Seems iffen we say he can, we sorta open the door fer the other, too. An' the kids--how ya think they'd all feel--seein' Tommie with an Indian. An' sure thing they wouldn't be able to keep it quiet-like either--babble it round the school an' all. The whole area round would know 'bout it. It's jest not good--not good at all."
Marty ached for Ma, but she also hurt for Tommie. There just didn't seem to be any way out without someone hurting.
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"Ma, I think I'd like to have a chat with Tom agin. Could ya send him on over when he's got a minute?" "Sure--guess chattin' won't hurt nothin'."
"Tell ya what," said Marty. "I'll send along a note with ya. Fer Tom. Thet be okay?"
Ma looked surprised, but agreed.
"It'll jest take a minute," said Marty and poured Ma another cup of coffee as she spoke.
"Ya jest enjoy yer coffee an' I'll be right back."
She went to the bedroom and found a sheet of paper and a pencil.
"Dear Tom," she wrote. "I think it would be good iffen ya could bring Owahteeka to see me. Come next Wednesday, if ya can. Yer friend, Marty."
Carefully she folded the sheet and returned to the kitchen. Ma tucked the note into a pocket and made no comment. Marty knew that the short letter would be handed over to Tom.
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Chapter 25
School News
The afternoon sun seemed weak and anemic as it shone listlessly on the winter snow. A cold wind had arisen and Marty fretted over the children having to tramp home from school in the cold.
She watched nervously at the window for the two figures to appear, fearing with a mother's heart that the cold might somehow detain them, or, at best, return them with frostbite.
When they finally came into view, they looked cheerful, chattering as they came, not even seeming in a hurry to get in out of the weather.
Marty met them at the door.
"Aren't ya near froze?" she asked.
Missie looked at her with surprise, then answered casually, "Sure is cold out."
"I know. I was worried."
" 'Bout what?"
" 'Bout you--an' Clae--comin' home in the wind." "We're all right."
She shrugged out of her coat and had to be reminded to hang it on its peg.
"Here," Marty said, "I've heated some milk. Best warm yerself up a bit."
The girls accepted the warm milk and the slice of cake that went with it.
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"It was cold in school today too," offered Clae.
"Yeah," teased Missie, "Nathan gave Clae his sweater to keep warm."
Clae flushed. "Oh, yeah, well, Willie loves you."
"Does not," Missie responded heatedly. "I hate thet Willie LaHaye."
"Well, he don't hate you."
"Does too. We hate each other--him and me."
Clae appeared to be changing the subject, but to Marty's dismay it turned out to be the same old one.
"Know what? Today we had honor time fer the two--boy an' girl--who got the best marks in sums and in spellin'. An' guess who got honored--had to go up front an' stand." Missie was shooting daggers at Clae with her eyes, but Clae ignored them and went on, "--stand right up there while everybody clapped. Guess who? Missie and Willie."
She clapped her hands together with glee and repeated again.
"Missie and Willie."
"I'm proud, Missie, thet ya got top marks," Marty cut in, hoping to divert the conversation, but it didn't work.
"Missie and
Willie," Clae said again. "Bet ya get married when ya grow up."
"We will not." Missie bounded off her chair, spilling the remainder of her milk. "I'm gonna marry Tommie, Clae Larson, an' don't ya fergit it." She was in tears now and as a final vent to her anger she reached for a handful of Clae's hair and yanked hard before she ran off to her room.
Now Clae's tears flowed.
Marty's intervention was too late to stop the initial outburst. She tried to comfort Clae, at the same time admonishing her not to tease Missie so much, wiped up the spilled milk and went to talk to her daughter.
Missie was hard to convince that the hair-pulling was not in order--a just dessert for the actions of Clae. Marty firmly informed her that it was not to happen again. The hardest Part of the talking came when Marty explained, as kindly as she knew how, that Tommie was a man full grown, and he
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might have other ideas as to whom he wished to marry. This was hard for Missie to comprehend. Tommie had always been her "good pal."
"I know," said Marty, "but 'good pals' don't always grow up and git married. 'Specially when one is a grown man already and the other a little girl."
"Then I'll never, ever marry anyone," Missie vowed, "not iffen I can't marry Tommie."
Marty smoothed her hair and said she s'posed thet would be fine--but if Missie ever changed her mind, that was okay too.
Missie finally wiped away the last of her tears and at her mother's bidding went to offer her apology to Clae.
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Chapter 26
Owahteeka
Wednesday arrived. Tom appeared at Marty's door. At her bid to come in, Tom interposed.
"Would ya all mind comin' out," he asked, "back to the spring? We'd rather see ya private-like."
Marty bundled up and followed him.
Clark was away, Ellie sound asleep, and Nandry had Clare and Arnie occupied.
The air was crisp, but the wind was down, so the cold was not as penetrating.
Marty and Tom moved along the path to the spring without speaking. Marty wondered just what to expect. What would the girl at the other end of the trail be like? What was there about her to make Tommie fall so in love?
As she approached the appointed spot, a slim figure clad in beaded buckskins turned to meet her.
"She's beautiful," was Marty's first thought, and looked from the deep black eyes to the sensitive face. Her lips were slightly parted, and she stood there silently, measuring Marty, even as Marty tried in a moment's time to measure her.
"Owahteeka," said Marty softly, letting a smile warm her face, and reaching out a hand, "I'm right glad to meet ya." Owahteeka softened too.
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"And I," she spoke carefully, "I am happy to meet you-- Marty. Tom has told me much about you."
Marty's eyes widened in surprise.
"Ya speak English--very well."
"I went to a mission school when my mother still lived," she explained, showing little feeling about the matter. "An' yer mother--?"
"Is gone. I now live only with my grandfather. He did not wish me in the mission school."
"I see."
Tom had moved beside Owahteeka. His eyes shone with love. He had been sure that Marty would understand and love her, and his heart beat more quickly, willing it to be so.
"Has Tommie met yer grandfather?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly; "he must not."
"I'd like to," said Tom. "I'd like to talk to the old man, tell 'im--"
"He does not speak nor understand the white man's tongue," broke in Owahteeka.
"Well, then," said Tom, "at least I could shake his hand--could smile."
"No." Owahteeka shook her head firmly. "You must not.
My grandfather--he would not wish to meet you." "But Marty has met you. She's white an'--" Owahteeka's dark eyes flashed. "The white lady did not
lose her sons and grandsons to Indian arrows, as my grand father
lost his to the white man's bullets."
Marty stepped forward and placed her hand on the young girl's arm.
"We understand," she said. "Tom will not try to see yer grandfather--not now enyway. But can--can you always hide your love?" She waved a hand to include the two young people. "Can ya hide it from 'im?"
"My grandfather is very old," said Owahteeka softly. "He is very old and weak. He will soon go to his fathers--there is no need to tell him."
"I see." So her guess had been right.
As silence followed, Marty fumbled for the right words,
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and finally just blurted it out.
"An' you, Owahteeka, do you wish to--to marry Tommie?"
"Oh, yes." The dark eyes softened as Owahteeka looked at the young man beside her. Tommie's arms encircled her. Who could deny the love that passed between them?
Marty swallowed a lump in her throat and turned to walk away a few paces. She came back slowly again. Her heart ached for the young people before her--of different culture, of different religions, of different skin. Why did they make it so difficult for themselves? What could she say or do?
She found her voice.
"Owahteeka, I think I understand why Tommie loves ya. You're a beautiful, sensitive girl. I--I wish thet I could feel thet--thet life will treat ya kindly iffen ya marry. I don't know. I really don't know."
She looked up then into the perceptive eyes of the girl before her. "But this I want ya to always know. Ya can count on me fer a friend."
"Thank you," whispered Owahteeka. Marty stepped forward and embraced the girl, looked deep into Tommie's eyes and turned back down the path to the house.
Tears fell as she walked. Her heart felt heavy. She'd talk with Ma. She still didn't know if it was right for her to interfere. She wouldn't try to persuade Ma that the marriage was the right thing, but she would try to make Ma see that Tommie's choice was understandable.
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Chapter 27
Bits 'n Pieces
When Clark went to town the following Saturday, he returned with the sobering news that Mrs. McDonald was gravely ill. The Doc, who had been faithfully attending her, reported her problem as a severe stroke. One side was paralyzed, her speech was gone, and she was confined to her bed in serious condition. No hope for her complete recovery was given.
Mrs. Nettles and Widow Gray, from town, took turns with Mr. McDonald in round-the-clock nursing. The store had been put up for sale.
Marty felt sick at heart upon hearing the news. She had never liked Mrs. McDonald, and the news of her illness filled her with guilt feelings.
"Maybe iffen I'd really tried," she told herself, "maybe I could have found a lovable woman behind the pryin' eyes and probin' tongue."
But there was little relief to her in the "maybes."
"God," she prayed, "please forgive me. I've been wrong. Help me in the future to see good in all people. To mine it out like, iffen it seems buried deep."
She sent a roast and a pie along with her condolences to Mr. McDonald. That was about the extent of the amends that she could make.
The winter months passed by, and the time for the coming
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of the new preacher was drawing near.
Nellie's wedding plans were progressing favorably. Shem Vickers seemed to find his tongue and was talking more than he had probably done in all his previous years on earth. He seemed to take great pleasure in spreading the word that he was soon to be a groom.
Mr. Wilbur Whittle was also making progress with his courtship, but he had given up the prospects of being the first one to the altar. He still hadn't solved his problem of where to live, so had withheld asking the fateful question. Tessie, not understanding what was holding him back, was becoming rather impatient.
Mr. Whittle finally dared to approach the committee who served as the school board, to request that a residence be acquired at the school site. He supplied them with a list of the reasons why such a move would be advantageous.
He would be ther
e to watch the fire in the winter.
He would be available should a student require his services, apart from school hours.
It would mean less time spent on the road, et cetera.
None of the reasons that he gave was the real one, but the board after some consideration decided that a resident teacher may not be a bad idea and voted to take out logs over the next winter to construct a modest but adequate building come the next spring.
It was a step in the right direction, but it seemed so far in the future. Mr. Whittle had hoped for action a bit sooner. He deemed it wise, for the time, to hold his tongue as far as his intention toward Miss Tessie LaHaye.
And so the matter lay. Tessie didn't exactly give up--but she did become agitated.
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Chapter 28
Owahteeka and Ma
Marty bundled Ellie against the spring wind and set off for the Grahams. She felt that she must have her visit with Ma.
Nandry kept Clae and Arnie at home. Marty had suggested that they all take the air together but Nandry politely refused. "She should get out more," Marty worried. "She's getting to be a real loner," but the company of the two small children seemed to be enough for Nandry.
The Graham house seemed quiet. With a family swarming through the rooms, it was usually a bustle of activity, but now with the youngsters off to school and Tom out working round the farm buildings, only Nellie was left to keep Ma company. She laid aside the towels that she was hand-stitching and came to take the wee Ellie.
"Did ya know thet Sally Anne be expectin' another--not till fall. This time Jason is hopin' fer a boy, though he sure wouldn't trade thet Elizabeth Anne fer an army of boys."
Marty smiled. An addition to the family was always good news.
