by Janette Oke
Missie, 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 little boy played out quickly.
Arnie’s toddler’s steps determined to follow Pa, also, and Marty, looking out of the window, often shook her head at the patient Clark trying to complete his chores with two small boys “assisting” him, making his tasks most difficult. Yet she knew, all in all, Clark also found it enjoyable.
Though patient and loving with his family, Clark was very firm, and Marty at times had to bite her tongue when she felt Clark was expecting a bit too much for their tender years. She would have coddled them, but Clark would not, for he had a strong conviction that what was learned through discipline in early years would not have to be relearned through more painful lessons later on.
Clae seemed almost to have forgotten that she had ever lived elsewhere but with the Davises; and though neither of the girls called them Pa and Ma, Marty felt Clae 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 like a family. Morning worship at the breakfast table was a special time. The two oldest girls listened carefully to things they had never heard before, while Missie and Clare coaxed for their favorite Bible stories.
Eventually enough of the sewing was done so the girls at least could start school dressed appropriately. Marty would finish the rest as she found the time.
Missie’s excitement grew with each day that passed. Every morning she wanted to know how many days were left before school started. Marty felt the child was on the verge of hysteria and tried to slow her down. Clark just laughed and advised Marty to let Missie enjoy the anticipation. Daily, Missie changed her mind about what she would wear on her first day, going from plaid, to gray, 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 remaining sadness 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 with a mighty shrug of her shoulders, and that settled it.
It would indeed be good for Missie to have more contact with other children. Marty would be right glad when school was finally in session.
The Saturday before school was to begin was a day of high anticipation in the Davis household. The whole community was invited to a meeting at the schoolhouse, a chance for the parents and children to meet Mr. Wilbur Whittle and for him to be introduced to his pupils. Marty supposed 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 neighborhood women had decided to serve coffee and cake at its closing. “Eatin’ together always breaks the ice, so to speak,” observed Mrs. Stern sagely.
At the Davis house the noon meal was a rather hurried affair, and the dishes were done in short order, in spite of Missie’s constant chatter telling Clae all the things she was going to see and do come Monday morning. Marty gave careful attention to the grooming of each family member. Nandry and Clae had never looked better. Nandry still seemed rather noncommittal about her upcoming chance at an education, though Marty did see her glance at Clark for his appraisal of her appearance. Clae, on the other hand, shone with excitement about this opportunity, running back and forth between Marty and the mirror to check on how she looked. With her flushed cheeks and the new ribbon tying back her hair, she looked downright pretty. The fact that Clae had helped to sew the dress she wore filled her with honest pride. Marty complimented her, making her rosy cheeks turn even brighter. Marty commented on Nandry’s dress, as well, and the girl’s eyes lit momentarily, but she didn’t allow herself any further response.
Missie pranced around the house, singing and dancing. She had Clare and Little Arnie doing somersaults and jigs with her. Marty shook her head in exasperation as she tried to fasten a ribbon in her curls. Finally Clark and Marty were able to usher their brood out the door in some semblance of order.
It was a beautiful day for this welcome meeting of neighbors, and everyone seemed to have turned out for the important event. The wagons and teams were tethered at the far end of the school yard, with the folk gathered around outside and inside the schoolhouse, there not being enough room for them to all go in at once.
Neighbor greeted neighbor, with good-natured talk flowing all around. The two spring babies were there to be shown around and admired. Little Elizabeth Anne was radiant with smiles and coos. She insisted on being held upright so she wouldn’t miss a thing, and even tried to sit on her own. A “bundle of wigglin’ energy,” her proud grandma Graham called her. Marty took a turn holding her and had to agree with the assessment, biased or not.
Wanda and Cam were there with their new son, Everett Cameron DeWinton John. Marty had thought it a rather long name for a small boy but was surprised to learn that his father, after all his grand ideas for his son, had cut it down to plain “Rett.” Baby Rett had gained rapidly after his somewhat difficult birth. He was already a big boy for his age.
“Look at thet, huh,” his father announced. “Look at thet fer a boy, an’ ’im not yet five months. Gonna be a big fella, thet ’un.” He grinned broadly, and Wanda smiled quietly beside him.
Marty agreed and took the baby. She held Rett for some time, walking around the yard with him. Finally she had to acknowledge the little warning signals that shivered up her arms and to her heart. The baby did not move as an infant should. When she raised him to her shoulder, there wasn’t the proper lift of his head. Something is wrong with this baby, her heart cried. She looked at his beaming mother, his proud pa, and prayed that her eyes hadn’t betrayed her thoughts, that she would be proved wrong. But she could not shake a heavy feeling from her heart.
At ten past two the Watley family wagon finally pulled in with the new teacher sitting in front beside Mr. Watley. All eyes were on the man. Marty wasn’t sure what any of the neighbors might have expected, but she was nearly positive none had pictured the man before them. They were accustomed to seeing strong, muscular farmers out here on the frontier, and this gentleman looked somewhat out of place. Not only was he short but very slight of build. What he lacked in size he seemed to compensate for with an enormous mustache. Though carefully tended and waxed on the ends, it nearly hid the lower half of his face.
His vest was a bright plaid material, and he wore white spats, most unusual this far west. Marty had to quickly hush Missie’s loud whisper about “What’s he got on his feet?” A bowler hat topped his small head, and he often reached for it, dusting it and then replacing it again.
Marty was relieved to note his expression held both friendliness and curiosity.
Clark had been asked to get the meeting going, and he gave his welcome to Mr. Wilbur Whittle in most courteous fashion and introduced him by name to the audience. They responded with smiles and applause, even the folks listening from outside. Clark then announced the name of each neighborhood family, having them stand together so they could be properly introduced and recognized. Mr. Whittle nodded and smiled at them in turn.
After all had been presented, the new teacher was given the floor. Marty expected to hear a small voice to suit the small man, but she was surprised when a deep bass voice emerged.
Why, he must’ve practiced fer years to be able to do thet, she thought in amazement.
But Mr. Whittle’s voice was not loud, and his audience had to listen carefully to hear his words. He expressed his pleasure at being selected to be the instructor in their school.
Ya were all we could git, Marty answ
ered silently.
He told them he was charmed with the fine boarding place they had so thoughtfully provided.
She was the only one with room, Marty added mentally.
He was gratified to behold the fine facilities and careful selection of instructional aids.
Marty wasn’t quite sure what he was referring to, so she let that comment pass.
He was looking forward to an amicable relationship with each one in the community, adult and child alike. He would look forward to making their further acquaintance, for he knew it would be both stimulating and intellectually rewarding.
Well, yes, sir! Marty felt like saying along with a salute, but of course she didn’t.
Classes would begin on the following Monday at nine o’clock sharp, the bell employed at five minutes of the hour. Each child was to be seated and ready to commence the opening exercises on the hour. No tardiness would be accepted. Two recess 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 each day.
The children would get the benefit of his undivided attention and unsurpassed education, 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 in like vein for a few minutes more, but Marty’s attention was diverted by Mrs. Vickers when she leaned toward Mrs. Stern and whispered rather loudly, “I hope he means he still is plannin’ to teach.”
Mrs. Stern vigorously nodded her assurance that he so intended.
The meeting finally ended with the community crowd giving the teacher a rousing round of applause, and he beamed on the group and withdrew.
Marty and the other women served the coffee and cake, and the animated visiting among the neighbors resumed. When she was finished, Clark sought out Marty to introduce her to the new neighbors on the Larson place.
The LaHayes seemed to be a nice couple. Mrs. LaHaye still looked thin and drawn but assured Marty she was feeling much better and was sure she’d soon be back to full strength. After an unspoken exchange between Marty and Clark, the LaHayes were invited to join the Davises for Sunday dinner the following day.
Mr. LaHaye said he was disappointed his journey west had been cut shorter than he had planned, but he was farmer enough to see the possibilities in Jedd Larson’s good farmland. He had plans for building a new farmhouse and outbuildings, and he had already undertaken some much-needed repairs until he could replace them.
Tessie, their only daughter, was a bit plain but pleasant. Marty took to her immediately. Nathan, the older boy, appeared to feel smugly confident about his own wit and ability. The younger boy, Willie, had an endearing sparkle in his brown eyes. At the same time a hint of mischief alerted Marty there was no tellin’ what this youngster would think to try next.
“How old are ya, Willie?” Marty asked.
“Nine,” he responded good-naturedly. “I been in school before. Took three grades already.”
Marty wondered if he thought 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 other young’uns here quite a bit, then,” Marty said and watched carefully for Willie’s reaction.
“Some of ’em,” he said nonchalantly. “If I want to. Some . . .” He hesitated. “I might help her,” he said with a grin, pointing a finger.
Marty followed the direction he pointed 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,” Marty said firmly. “She’s startin’ first grade, an’ she already knows her letters and numbers.”
Willie shrugged again and continued to grin. “Might help her anyway,” he said. Then he was off on a run to join the other children.
The LaHayes were leaving early. He had much to do, he told the Davises. 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. He shouted for his brood—and then they were gone.
TWELVE
School Days
Instead of being bright and sunny as had been ordered, Monday dawned overcast and showery. Missie couldn’t hold back a wail of despair as she looked out of the window.
“My new blue dress will get all wet,” she cried. “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.
Marty carefully packed lunches and supervised the combing of hair and cleaning of fingernails. She wasn’t sure who was most excited, but it no doubt was a close race between Missie and herself.
Clark decided that Clare and Arnie could go along for the ride in spite of the drizzly day.
“They won’t melt,” he assured Marty, “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 respect, and use what they would learn for the bettering of self and everyone they would meet, now and in the future.
After the meal was over, the excited group left the house, and Clark covered the girls in the wagon to keep the rain off their new clothes. Clare and Arnie, feeling proud and important, took their places beside Clark on the wagon seat. Marty felt a tightness in her throat as she watched the eager faces, taking particular note of Missie’s shining eyes. And then they were off.
“First school, then courtin’ and marriage, an’ gone fer good,” she said softly. “ ’Fore we know it, they’ll all be gone—one by one.”
She blinked her eyes quickly and turned back to the dishes. Soon Clark would return with Clare and Arnie, and all the work of their care and nurture would fall on her now that the girls were away much of each day. She must hurry through her tasks to be ready to spend much of this rainy day indoors amusing two restless little boys.
When Clark brought the boys back to the house, Marty changed them into dry clothes and made suggestions as to what they might like to do. She had thought she was prepared for what was in store but found it was even more difficult than she had imagined.
Arnie fussed and refused to be distracted with toys. Clare whined and pouted, insisting that he should be able to go to school, too. When he failed to convince his mother, he plagued her to let him go out to play. She pointed out the window at the wet landscape, but Clare only complained the more, seeming to imply that Marty could do something about the weather if she would just put her mind to it.
Marty finally gave them each a cookie. Arnie shared his with Miss Puss, then immediately undid all his generosity by deliberately pulling the kitten’s tail. She responded with a well-deserved scratch to his hand. Arnie’s howls 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 while she washed the scratches on Arnie’s hand.
By midmorning the clouds cleared away and the sun returned. Marty was glad to send Clare outside. She imagined him staying 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 bee to flowers, but he played in them only long enough to become soaked and muddy. He stood at the door grumping that there was nothing to do. Marty despaired as she cleaned him up. Whatever would she do with them through this long, long day? And what if it rained tomorrow. . . ?
With noon’s arrival Clark came in for lunch. The boys squealed with delight, and Marty breathed a
sigh of relief. He could talk and play with them for a bit, and after the meal she could tuck them in for a nap.
But the usual naptime didn’t go well, either. Arnie fussed and fretted, trying to climb out of his crib, and Clare never did go to sleep. So then they were cranky when she finally got them up.
The seemingly endless day finally righted itself when the three girls came home. Arnie ran to Nandry with a glad cry, and Clare began a list of questions for Missie to see if she really had learned anything. Clae stood by smiling demurely.
Marty had to raise her voice to be heard above all the chattering. “How’d it go?” she asked.
“Oh, Mama,” cried Missie, “it’s jest so great! Guess what I learned—jest guess. Here, I’ll show ya.”
“I want to see,” Marty told her, “an’ I can hardly wait. But first how ’bout ya all change yer school dresses an’ hang ’em up nice.” The girls quickly went to comply, anxious to be able to tell their news.
The time until supper was spent telling of the day’s many activities. Only Nandry had nothing to offer. Missie jabbered on about the teacher, the other kids, the new work, her desk, and the poor fire in the potbellied stove.
“Know what? I don’t think Mr. Whittle ever built a fire b’fore. From now on, Silas Stern is gonna build it. It smoked somethin’ awful.”
She stopped a moment to pet the cat. “I like Mary Lou Coffins. She’s my favorite friend—’cept fer Faith Graham.”
The Coffins were new to the area, Marty knew.
Missie continued, a twinkle in her eye. “Guess what?” she said in a whisper. “Nathan LaHaye likes Clae.”
Clae blushed and protested but not too vociferously.
“He does, too,” declared Missie. “He pulled her braids an’ everythin’.”
Marty had no idea what the “everythin”’ might be.
Then Missie’s expression took on fire. “But I hate thet Willie LaHaye. He’s a show-off.”
