by Janette Oke
Suddenly Marty was crying—tearing sobs from deep inside. Oh, Ma. Oh, Ma! How ya ever gonna bear it? she mourned inwardly. It was true. It really was true. Ben was gone.
Clark let her cry, though he placed an arm around her and drew her closer to him. He didn’t try to hush her. He knew as well as she did that she needed the release of the tears.
By the time they reached the Graham farmyard, Marty had herself under control. Lights shone from each window. Teams and saddle horses milled and stomped in the yard, doors opening and closing quietly as family arrived.
Clark helped Marty down and then moved the team on farther into the yard to tie them at a corral post. Marty waited for him, dreading that first meeting with poor Ma. She didn’t want to go in by herself.
When Clark returned to take her arm and lead her to the house, they spoke for the first time.
“Looks like the whole family’s here,” said Marty softly.
“Yeah, Lou said he was lettin’ ’em know.”
“Good thet they’re all close by.”
“Lem was away—don’t know iffen they got in touch with ’im yet.”
They reached the house, and without knocking, Clark ushered them in. The big farm kitchen was full of people. Coffee cups sat on the table, but no one seemed to be drinking from them. Tearstained faces were turned toward Ma, who sat before an open Bible and, with a quavering yet confident voice, was reading to her family.
“‘… for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely …’” Ma’s voice broke. She waited a moment and then went on, her voice ringing out stronger than before: “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.’”
She placed both hands on the Book and closed her eyes, and everyone in the room knew she was believing its promises and silently making them her own in prayer.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Clark and Marty were there. Without a word she held her hands out to them as a fresh collection of tears spilled down her worn cheeks. Marty moved quickly to her and took her in her arms. They clung and cried together. Marty was vaguely aware of voices and movement about her. She knew that Clark was offering his sympathy to other family members. She must speak to them, too, but Ma came first.
After the initial expressions of sorrow, they sat around the kitchen sharing memories of Ben and discussing plans for his funeral service. There wasn’t a great deal of preparation to do. The new undertaker in town would prepare the coffin. The young minister had not been called in the dead of the night—Ma insisted that he be allowed to sleep. She had her family and her neighbors, and there was plenty of time to make the arrangements. Besides, she declared, the poor young man had already lost three nights’ sleep sitting up with ailing Maude Watley. Her condition seemed to have improved somewhat, and the minister finally had been able to get a night’s rest.
The neighborhood men would dig another grave in the little yard beside the church. Clark offered to make sure that was done. Tom thanked him for his kindness. “But,” he said, “the boys an’ me been talkin’, an’ we’d kinda like to do it ourselves.”
Clark’s understanding of their desire was clear as he nodded his agreement.
Sally Anne was weeping the hardest. Marty found her in Ma’s bedroom, Ben’s old farm work hat crumpled up against her, the sobs shaking her entire body.
Marty tried to comfort her, but Sally Anne just cried all the harder.
“I’ll be all right,” she finally gasped out between sobs. “Just please leave me be.” So Marty left. Sally Anne was going to need time to sort out her grief.
The day of the burial was cold. But the wind had gone down, for which all were thankful. Still, the sky was gray and the air frigid. Marty clasped her coat about her and prayed for the group of family members who were clinging tightly to one another. It would be a hard day for each of them. And when they scattered again to their various homes, what would become of Ma then?
Marty was glad that Lou and his wife and two children lived near her. At least Ma would have someone close. Still, it would be hard for her—hard to face an empty house, hard to lie alone in a bed that had been shared for so many years, hard to sit at a table where no one used the adjoining chair. Yes, she had many difficult days ahead of her. Marty was glad Ma had a deep faith in God that would help her through the days of intense sorrow. She must remember to pray for her daily. And visit her as she could. Maybe Ma would like to be included in some upcoming family dinners.
But Marty also knew that Ma wasn’t likely to sit around and feel sorry for herself. What an example of faith in trying times she was to the whole community.
TEN
Good News
Life required that everybody carry on, so even though their hearts were heavy, family and friends of Ben put their minds on living and the everyday tasks that called for their attention.
It was only a few weeks now until Christmas and Arnie’s wedding. Marty tried her hardest to keep an atmosphere of anticipation for the sake of her family, even though she could not get out from under the heaviness she felt for Ma and her family. Ma was often in her thoughts and prayers.
Clark returned home from town one day and hurried into the kitchen, his expression telling Marty he had news.
“Yer not gonna believe this. Guess what I just heard.”
Marty looked up from the small baby gown in which she was making dainty tucks. “Couldn’t guess,” she said. “What’s goin’ on now?”
“Willie’s pa has been so impressed with the West thet he’s talked the whole family into goin’ out fer a look.”
“Yer joshin’ me,” said Marty, laying down her handwork in disbelief.
“Not joshin’.”
“Ya mean they’re all movin’ out?”
“Not movin’. Not yet anyway. They’re just goin’ on out fer a look-see.”
“Callie an’ the kids, too?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s to care fer the farm?”
“Now this yer really not gonna believe.”
Marty felt her eyes widen, wondering what in the world could be more difficult to believe than what she had already heard.
“Lane,” said Clark.
“Lane?”
“Lane.”
“Our Lane? I mean Willie’s Lane?” Marty was stunned.
Clark laughed. “Told ya you’d never believe it.”
“I can’t imagine—Lane comin’ back here! Are ya sure?”
“I’m sure. Zeke LaHaye showed me the letter hisself. Fact is, Lane’s s’posed to arrive tomorra so’s he can learn all he needs to know ’fore the LaHayes leave next Tuesday.”
“Yer right—I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Marty, excitement taking hold of her. “Lane comin’ here. Isn’t thet somethin’?”
“Ellie,” she said, hurrying to the kitchen, “Ellie, Lane’s comin’.”
Ellie lifted her head from the potatoes she was peeling.
“Who’s Lane?” she asked.
“Lane. Willie’s Lane. We told ya ’bout ’im.”
“Lane,” repeated Ellie and frowned as she tried to remember. Clark joined them in the kitchen.
“Want some coffee, Pa?” Ellie asked, and Marty was just a trifle irritated that Ellie hadn’t responded more enthusiastically to the wonderful news of their friend’s arrival.
Without waiting for her father’s answer, Ellie moved to reach for two coffee cups, which she placed on the table and filled.
Clark thanked her and sat down, pulling one cup toward him, and Marty took the chair opposite him and accepted the other cup. Ellie had already gone back to peeling potatoes.
“I just can’t believe it,” Marty said again, not willing to let the matter drop. “
Lane comin’.”
“How so?” asked Ellie.
“The LaHayes are goin’ out to see Willie an’ Missie. Gonna be there in time fer Christmas and then stay on a spell,” Clark explained again.
Finally Ellie’s hands stopped their busy paring, and her head bobbed up. “Really? Missie will be so excited she’ll near go crazy. ’Magine thet. Havin’ all thet family fer Christmas!”
Marty smiled as she pictured Missie’s excitement and busy preparations. “And we can send some Christmas presents with them—”
Clark’s laugh interrupted her. “Yeah, well, ya better go easy on how much you send—the LaHayes are gonna have enough luggage of their own.”
“Who’s gonna look after their place?” asked Ellie, and Marty noted silently that the girl hadn’t been listening.
“Lane,” she answered patiently.
“Oh, thet’s why Willie’s sendin’—what’s his name?”
“Lane.”
“Lane who?”
Clark began to laugh. “His name’s Lane Howard. He’s one of Willie’s hands. Guess he must know somethin’ ’bout farmin’, or Willie wouldn’t be sendin’ ’im.”
“I see,” said Ellie, and her hands began to work on the potatoes again.
“He’s such a fine boy,” Marty said. “He’s the young cowboy who was the first one to come to Willie’s services, an’ he was the first one to believe.”
Ellie nodded her interest in that piece of news.
“He’s a mighty fine young man,” Clark agreed. He looked off into space as though seeing some events in his memory.
“It was Lane who knelt down beside Jedd Larson and joined me in prayer when Jedd was in such a bad way.”
“It was Lane who rode through the cold night to get Doc de la Rosa fer Jedd, too,” added Marty.
“Yeah, an’ Lane hitched the team and drove back through the night to take Jedd over to Doc’s house,” Clark continued.
“He rode with ya, too, when ya went on over on Christmas Day,” Marty reminded Clark.
“Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Clark smiled. “I can still see him climbin’ down off his horse an’, without sayin’ a word, takin’ his blanket to cover up my stub of a leg. Boy, was it cold! I think thet I’d a froze it fer sure iffen Lane hadn’t done thet. An’ me—I was too dumb to even think ’bout it needin’ coverin’.”
Ellie looked back and forth between her parents as they remembered their experiences with Lane out west.
Marty said, her voice low and husky, “Don’t know iffen ya even knowed it, but Lane was the one who helped the doc when he took off yer leg. Willie wanted to, but he was afraid he couldn’t stand it, so he went fer help—an’ it was Lane who volunteered.”
“Didn’t know thet.” Clark shook his head, looking thoughtful. Then he sighed. “Shoulda known it, though, thet Lane would be the one—”
“It’ll be so good to see ’im again. When did ya say he’s comin’?” Marty asked.
“S’posed to be tomorra.”
“We’ll have ’im over right away!”
“Now, hold it,” laughed Clark. “Willie is sendin’ ’im out here to look to his family’s farm, not to spend his time—”
“I know thet,” retorted Marty, “but surely we can have ’im visit now an’ then without any harm bein’ done. He has to eat, now, don’t he?”
Clark stood up and ruffled her hair.
“Reckon we can,” he said. “I was thinkin’ myself thet it’d be awful nice to give ’im an invite fer Christmas.”
“I hope we don’t need to wait thet long to see him. I’d nigh bust by then.”
Clark laughed again. “Got me a feelin’,” he said confidently, “thet he’ll be lookin’ us up.”
Marty hoped Clark was right. Lane was almost like family, like he’d be bringing a little piece of their beloved Missie’s family with him.
“Look at thet sunshine,” Ellie commented to Marty. “Think I’m gonna go out an’ git me a little of it.”
Marty followed the girl’s eyes to the window. It was a truly glorious winter day.
“I was just thinkin’ the same,” she said. “Think I just might go on over an’ have me a cup a’ tea with Kate.”
“Good idea. I might even join ya iffen I git my chores done in time, but don’t wait on me. I might git to enjoyin’ the sun so much I’ll decide not to come in.”
Marty smiled. Ellie had always loved the out-of-doors.
“Go ahead,” she said. “It’ll do ya good.”
“Ya git ready,” said Ellie, “an’ I’ll walk ya on over to Kate’s so ya won’t slip on the ice.”
“Ya fret too much,” Marty countered. “Just like yer pa. I’ve been walkin’ on ice fer a good number of years now, an’ I don’t recall takin’ a tumble yet.”
Ellie shook her head without saying anything further, put on a light coat, and stood waiting, so Marty pulled a warm shawl about her and they started off together. The sun reflected brightly off the snow and made them squint against the glare. It felt warm on their heads in spite of the cool air.
“Hard to believe we’re ’bout due fer Christmas. Feels more like spring,” observed Marty.
“Doesn’t it, though?” answered Ellie. “But I’m so glad it’s nice. Makes it better fer Lady and her puppies.”
“How are they doin’?”
“Oh, Mama, they’re so cute now. ’Specially thet little blackan’-white one. He has the biggest eyes an’ the floppiest ears. I hope Pa will let me keep ’im.”
“We hardly need another dog around here, I’m thinkin’.”
“But he’s so cute.”
“Puppies are all cute,” reminded Marty. “When they grow up they’re just another dog.”
“Now, ya can’t be tellin’ me thet ya aren’t partial to dogs,” Ellie remonstrated, and Marty laughed, knowing Ellie was right. She had always loved dogs, and each time there had been a new batch, she was the one who suffered the most as she watched the puppies going off to new homes.
They reached Kate’s house, and Marty was warmly welcomed in, while Ellie went on to care for her chickens.
The young man swung off his horse, tied it to the rail fence, and walked up to the door. Several knocks received no response, so he turned toward the barn, where he saw the door standing open.
After Ellie had finished feeding the chickens, she had gone on to the barn to see the puppies. The day had become so delightfully warm she hadn’t gone far before removing her coat.
She had thrown the barn door wide open and let the sun stream into the building. Lady ran to meet her, four pudgy puppies tumbling and stumbling along behind her. Ellie tossed aside her coat and fell down on her knees in the warm, sweet-scented straw.
“Oh,” she crooned, picking up her favorite and pressing it against her cheek. “Yer just the sweetest thing.”
A small tongue licked haphazardly at her nose, and Ellie kissed the soft fuzzy head and reached for another puppy. A third one began to tug at her skirt, growling and pulling as though tackling something unknown and dangerous. Ellie laughed and playfully pushed at the puppy with her foot. The puppy swung around and attacked her shoe instead. She pulled him into her lap and reached for the last one, a shy little female, the smallest of the litter. “Come here, you,” Ellie said, coaxing the little one closer. She settled herself into a sitting position and cuddled the puppies in her lap. Lady pressed herself close, taking a lick at Ellie’s face, her arm, her hand—wherever she could get one in. Ellie lifted her feisty little favorite again and pressed him close against her cheek. “I must ask Pa iffen I can keep ya,” she told him.
Ellie was so busy with the puppies she hadn’t seen the shadow that crossed the door; nor did she notice the figure who stood there, looking at the shining golden head bowed over the squirming puppy. He watched silently. She lifted her face to the sun, and it fell across her cheeks, highlighting their glow and the deep blue of her eyes. Still she had not seen him, so enraptured was she with h
er little friends. She stroked the curly fur gently with slender fingers and caressed the fluffy, drooping ear.
“Yer just the sweetest thing,” she went on, lifting him so she could look the puppy in the face. “How could anyone give ya up?”
Lane had not moved. He knew he shouldn’t be standing there watching her with her unaware that he was present, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the spell of the scene before him. Who was she, this delightful young woman? She was as pretty and wholesome as … as … Lane had nothing to compare her to. He had never seen someone like her.
It was the dog who gave away his presence. Lady turned toward him and whined, her tail beginning to wave ever so slightly. Ellie lifted her eyes from the puppy to the door. At the sight of the young stranger, she gave a little gasp and hastened to her feet, scattering the three puppies playing on her skirt into the soft straw.
Lane quickly found his tongue.
“I’m sorry, miss—to startle ya like thet. I wasn’t meanin’ to. I’m … I’m lookin’ fer the Davises.”
“In a barn?” she asked, but her tone held more banter than blame.
“I knocked at the house an’ didn’t get an answer.”
When she didn’t say anything, he explained, “I … I saw the barn door open an’ I thought someone might …” He trailed off. “I’m sorry if I’ve imposed, miss.”
“No harm done,” she said finally and put the puppy back down with its mother.
“Am I at the right farm or—?”
“We’re the Davises,” said the young woman before him, reaching down to brush straw from her skirt. “Who was it ya wished to see?”
“Missie’s folks,” he responded. “Clark an’ Marty.”
Ellie felt her eyes grow wide with shock and some embarrassment, and she took a good look at the young man who stood before her, hat in hand. This must be the Lane Ma and Pa were talking about, she thought as she looked him over.
He was tall and rather thin, though his shoulders were broad. He had a clean-shaven face and deep brown eyes. His jaw was firm set, as though once he had made up his mind it might be hard to change it. He wasn’t what Ellie would call handsome—his somewhat crooked nose prevented him from being that—but he had a certain bearing that made you wonder if he wouldn’t be a nice person to get to know.
