by Janette Oke
Without it actually being discussed, everyone understood that Luke probably would never be a farmer. He had a very keen mind and a sensitive spirit and was presently leaning toward the possibility of being a medical doctor. Clark and Marty felt he would be a great honor to them as a doctor, but Luke was not pressured for a commitment on his future.
And so the farming was left to the boys and the kitchen to Ellie. Marty knew she was quite able to care for the needs of the brothers, but still Marty fretted some as she thought of all the work ahead for the young girl.
The day of their departure dawned clear and bright, and the warm sunshine spilled through the bedroom window. Marty was up even before Clark and, in her excitement, flitted about working on last-minute things that really needed no attention. Her efforts were not totally without value, for it did give her something to do until it was time for them to load into the spring-seated wagon and head for town.
The four children from home accompanied them, and when they arrived—too early—at the stagecoach offices, Nandry and Josh and their family, and Clae and Joe and Esther Sue were already there.
The excitement was felt by everyone and resulted in too many talking at once, too much nervous activity, and too many near-wild children. Clark grinned around at the whole tensionfilled bunch of them.
“Whoa,” he finally called, lifting up his hand, his signal for quiet. “How ’bout we see iffen we can git a little order out of this confusion?” Everyone stopped midsentence and midstep and then began to laugh.
“I suggest,” went on Clark, “thet we go on over to the hotel an’ have us a cup of coffee an’ a sandwich. Be a heap quieter, an’ we still have lots of time to kill before this here stage is gonna be leavin’.” Eventually they all fell into line and headed for the hotel and the promised coffee. Josh broke line, whispered to Nandry, and then fished in his pocket.
“Tina, yer ma says it be okay fer ya to take these here little ones over to the general store fer a candy treat. It being a special day, how ’bout ya all git two pieces of yer favorite kind.”
Shouts of approval answered him, and he passed Tina the coins. She took Mary and Esther Sue by the hands and headed for the promised treat. Andrew disdained holding hands and marched off on his own. Baby Jane was content to be held in her mother’s arms and to put up with the grown-ups while they visited over coffee cups.
When they finally were seated and had placed their orders, the talking did become a bit more orderly. They even waited for one another to finish their sentences before breaking in with a new thought or question. Marty knew her churning stomach had no interest in a sandwich. She ordered a cup of tea and sipped at it now and then between the talk and laughter. The men ordered sandwiches and even pieces of pie to go with them. Marty wondered fleetingly how they ever managed it, only a few hours since they had downed a big breakfast.
Departure time seemed to be in no hurry to come. The food had been eaten, the cups drained, replenished, and drained again, the same admonitions given and repeated, and the same assurances spoken over and over. Marty fidgeted in her seat. Clark at last said he supposed they could go on out and check on the progress of the stagecoach.
As they stood chatting before the stagecoach office, Zeke LaHaye, Willie’s pa, joined them. He greeted them all with one nod and sweep of his hat, then reached to shake Clark’s hand.
“Guess I needn’t tell ya how I envy you. Sure would love to head on out with ya. Always had me a hankerin’ to see the west country, an’ with my boy out there it sure does git awfully hard to jest hold myself here at home sometimes.”
“Well, now,” said Clark, “ya oughta throw in yer bedroll an’ come along.”
Zeke answered with a smile. “Sure is temptin’. Did bring this here little parcel iffen ya think ya can find a little room fer it someplace. Hate to be botherin’ ya like, but it jest ain’t possible to let ya go without sendin’ somethin’ along fer the family.”
“No trouble. No trouble a’tall,” assured Clark and placed the parcel with the stack of their belongings.
Marty looked at the big pile of things going west. There were all of their own daily necessities, the many things they had packed to take to Willie and Missie, the added articles from Clae and Nandry, the gifts from Ma Graham, Wanda Marshall, Sally Anne, and even some from Missie’s students during her teaching days. Yes, the pile had grown and grown and, indeed, each additional item meant “more trouble,” but she would have no more denied Zeke LaHaye the pleasure of sending something to his family than she would have denied herself. She’d discard her new hatbox if necessary in order to make room.
The stage finally appeared, two minutes early, and all the baggage and crates were loaded. Zeke’s package fit in, too, and Marty was able to tuck in the hatbox.
Over and over the words, “Ya tell Willie …” or “Give Missie …” or “Kiss them for me,” were echoed from family members. Marty turned to each one with tears in her eyes and pounding heart. It was so exciting to finally be on their way. If only “good-byes” didn’t need to come before one had the pleasure of “hellos.” She kissed Luke one last time, gave Ellie one more hug, threw kisses to the many-times-kissed grandchildren, and hurried forward lest the stage driver get impatient with her.
The good-bye shouts followed them on down the road. Marty leaned from the window for one last wave before the coach turned the corner, and then she settled back against the already warm seat.
“I do declare,” she remarked seriously to Clark, “I do believe thet travelin’ be awful hard work. I feel all worn out like.”
“We’ve barely started travelin’, Marty,” Clark laughed softly. “It’s not the travelin’ thet has ya all tuckered. It’s the gettin’ ready and the excitement. From now on, ya have nothin’ to do but jest rest.”
Marty smiled at Clark’s calm assessment but felt rather doubtful. How could she ever rest when her whole body vibrated with excited energy? Well, she’d try. She’d try.
FOUR
The City
An awfully long, dusty, warm stagecoach trip faced Clark and Marty on the first leg of their journey. At least in their own farm wagon, they could catch the breezes and stop occasionally to stretch their legs. The morning sun moved up high in the sky, beating down unmercifully, and the open windows helped only a little. The other three passengers were men. Clark talked to them some, but Marty found little of interest in the conversation. Besides, her mind was on many other things. Had she brought the things that Missie really could use? How big was little Nathan now, the grandson they had never seen?
In spite of the warmth in the stagecoach, Marty knew that a stylish traveling lady did not remove her hat, even in the heat of the day, but how she longed to lift hers from her warm head and let it lie in her lap.
They stopped to change horses and to allow the passengers a few moments to walk around. Marty was enormously grateful for the bit of respite. Then on they went again, bumping over the rough tracks of the road. Marty had assumed the road would be fairly well traveled and smooth, but the stage wheels seemed to find every rut available.
At noon another rest stop was taken, and Marty climbed stiffly down with Clark’s assistance and sought out the shade of some nearby trees. The men scattered in various directions to walk, sit, or stretch out on the cool grass.
Marty took their little lunch bag and spread out a noonday meal of sandwiches and cool drink with tarts and cookies for dessert. Marty herself wasn’t much interested, but she noted that the traveling was not adversely affecting Clark’s appetite.
All too soon the stage was ready to move on again. They left the coolness of the trees and took their places on the hot, dusty leather seats. The minutes of the afternoon ticked away with the grinding and bumping of the wheels and the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves. Occasionally, a hoot or shout from the driver would call some new order to the teams.
In spite of the heat and discomfort, Marty found her head nodding. Probably the fact that she ha
d been missing some sleep in recent days helped to make her drowsy. But it was hard to actually sleep in the jostling wagon. As soon as she would find herself slipping into relaxing slumber, another bump or shake would snap her awake. She found it to be worse than no sleep at all. She shifted position and fought to remain awake, catching glimpses of countryside through the stage windows.
A change of teams at another stagecoach station broke up the monotony of the afternoon. Marty’s back and legs ached, and she was thankful for the stretch. She thought of Missie’s long journey west by wagon train and more fully appreciated their courage through the discomfort of it all.
It was almost suppertime when the stagecoach pulled into the city station. Marty leaned forward eagerly to see all that she could as they traveled the busy, crowded streets, then realized she probably looked like a country bumpkin. She settled back against the seat and allowed only her eyes to move from side to side at a world very different from her own.
After alighting, Marty walked around, flexing her muscles and observing all of the strange sights and sounds as Clark collected their belongings and made the proper arrangements for everything to be on the morning’s train west. All they took with them for the immediate were two cases and Marty’s hatbox. Marty felt a bit panicky as she watched their luggage being carted away. Was the man truly dependable? Would he be sure to put them on the right train? Would everything arrive safely? Was it all properly labeled? What would they ever do if it did not make it?
But Clark seemed to have no such worries. Seemingly relieved and confident that he had all things arranged in good order, he took her arm.
“Well, Mrs. Davis,” he teased, “here we are in the big city. What shall we be doin’ with it?”
“Doin’?” asked Marty blankly.
“Well, they say a big city is full of all manner of excitin’ an’ forbidden things. Ya be wishin’ to go lookin’ fer some of ’em?”
Marty no doubt looked as shocked as she felt. “Me?”
Clark laughed. “No, not you. An’ not me, either. I’m jest funnin’ ya. I have heard they have some very good eatin’ places, though. I could sure use me some good food. Somethin’ about sandwiches thet don’t stay with a man fer long. Though they sure enough hit the spot at the time, ya understand.” He chuckled again as he looked into her face. “Ya interested?”
“I reckon,” replied Marty, though secretly she found herself far more interested in what the people would be wearing than in what they ate.
“Well, let’s jest find us a hotel room to git settled an’ leave our belongin’s, an’ then we’ll see what we be findin’.”
They discovered a hotel quickly enough. It was the largest one Marty had ever seen. She looked around the lobby at the high ornate ceiling, the glistening hanging lights, and the elaborately paneled doors. This is going to cost us nigh onto a fortune, she thought, but she did not voice her opinion to Clark.
Clark was handed a key and given a few instructions, and then he gathered up their bags and took Marty’s arm for the climb up the stairs—many of them. But she soon was distracted by the attractive paper on the walls and the colorful carpeting beneath their feet. At length, Clark stopped before a door and used the key. He pushed the door open and then stood to the side to allow Marty to enter. The room before them was the most elegant Marty had ever seen. She looked about her, studying carefully every detail. She wanted to be able to describe the room to her daughters.
The wallpaper was a richly patterned blue and the draperies were deep blue velvet with thick fringes. The bedspread, heavy and brocaded, had a cream background with some blue threads interwoven. The ornate chest appeared to have been handcarved, and there was a special stool or small table on which one rested the travel cases. The imported carpet was a riot of rich purples, crimsons, blues, and golds, all blended together in an attractive overall pattern. The room even had its own bathroom. Marty took it all in and then turned to Clark.
“My,” she said, then again, “my, I never know’d thet all of this grandness was possible.”
“I jest hope thet this ‘grandness’ has a comfortable bed,” he responded dryly, crossing over to the bed and testing it with his hand. “I’m thinkin’ thet before mornin’ I’ll likely be pinin’ fer the ‘grandness’ of our own four-poster.”
Marty, too, felt the bed. “Feels fine to me,” she stated, “though I admit to feelin’ so tired thet a plank floor might even be welcome.”
Clark laughed. “Before ya settle fer thet plank floor, let’s go see what this here town has to offer an empty stomach.” And, so saying, he attempted to lead her from the room.
“Whoa now,” argued Marty. “Iffen I’m gonna dine out like a fine lady, I’m gonna need to freshen up first. Goodness sakes, the stage was so hot an’ dusty, one feels in fair need of a bath an’ hairwash.”
As expected, it took Marty longer to prepare for going out than it did Clark. He waited fairly patiently while she primped and fussed and finally felt confident enough to venture forth. They descended the stairs slowly, and Clark made inquiry as to the location of a nice dining room. Assured that the one in the hotel was one of the finest the city had to offer, they proceeded into an immense room with elaborate columns and deep winecolored draperies. Marty had never dined in such splendor. She could scarcely take her eyes from the room and its occupants long enough to properly select from the menu. Everything on the stiff card before her looked too fussy, too much, and too expensive. It was hard for her to make up her mind. She wished she could find something simple like fried chicken or roast beef. Clark asked for the house specialty and, without checking to see what it was, Marty echoed his order.
She tried not to stare, but the people moving about the room and sitting at the white-covered tables seemed to be from another world. She had to take herself consciously in hand and remember her manners. Still, she was relieved and pleased to note that she did not stand out in the crowd as “backwoods” or “frumpish.” Her daughters had chosen her new clothing well. How thankful she was for their knowledge and encouragements. When the waiters had brought their plates and settled the dishes in front of them, Clark took Marty’s hand and bowed his head, thanking the Lord for His care on the journey and for the food before them. The meal was delicious, though they served far too large a portion in Marty’s opinion. She, who was not in the habit of wasting anything, had a difficult time leaving the food on her plate and sending it back to the kitchen. She was concerned, too, that the cook might take offense and feel that the meal had not pleased her. After she had eaten all she possibly could and pushed back her plate, she still was not sure exactly what she had eaten. It had been very tasty—but not identifiable like her home-cooked farm suppers of roast beef, potatoes, and gravy. Everything about the city was different.
They ordered French pastries to go with their coffee and lingered over them, enjoying the taste, the atmosphere, and the pleasurable luxury of sitting with no responsibility to hasten them away from the table.
When they felt it would be impolite to remain any longer, they rose from the table and returned to the lobby. Clark purchased a local paper and tucked it under his arm as they again made their way up the stairs to their room. Marty held her skirt carefully as she climbed; it would never do to step clumsily on her skirt and damage such an expensive hemline.
“So how do you plan on spendin’ this lazy evenin’, with no mendin’ or sewin’ in yer hands?” Clark asked as he opened the door to their room.
“Isn’t botherin’ me none,” responded Marty lightly. “As tired as I be feelin’, I expect thet sleep sounds ’bout as good to me as anythin’ I could be doin’.”
Clark smiled. “Go on. Tuck yerself in then. Me, I’m jest gonna check the paper an’ see what’s goin’ on in the world.”
Marty prepared for bed and slipped between the cool, smooth sheets with a contented sigh. Oh, how tired she was! She longed for a good long sleep. She would be off before you could say … But it turned out she wa
sn’t. Try as she might to relax in the big soft bed, her mind still kept whirling. She thought of Missie and her little family they were going to see. She thought of Ellie, Luke, Arnie, and Clare back home. Was there anything she had forgotten to tell them, any reminders she hadn’t given, any instructions she had missed? Would their baggage really make it onto the train? What would it be like sharing the close proximity of a train car with strangers for days on end as they traveled? Marty’s mind buzzed with questions.
Clark finished reading his paper, prepared for retiring, and climbed in beside her. Soon Marty heard his soft breathing and knew he slept in spite of the unfamiliar bed. Still sleep eluded her. She stirred restlessly and wished for morning. Once they were actually on that train and headed for Missie’s, she was sure then she could relax.
In spite of her restless night, Marty roused herself early the next morning. Anticipation took charge, driving her from the bed. Clark stirred as Marty threw back the blankets.
“Rooster crow already?” he teased, then shut his eyes again and turned over.
Marty didn’t let his joshing bother her but went about her morning preparations. She had already decided on the dress and hat she would wear for their first train ride and carefully worked out the wrinkles with the palms of her hands. She shook out the hat, fluffing up the feather, and stepped back to admire the plume. My, this is some hat, she thought. She felt a mite self-conscious about wearing it, but then assured herself that all the fashionable traveling ladies wore them.
Marty dressed carefully and then began packing her nightclothes and her gown of yesterday in her case. The gown smelled dusty and looked bedraggled from the stagecoach ride. What a shame to pack it away in such a mess! she fretted. She wished there were some way to freshen it first. She selected a few pages from Clark’s newspaper and carefully wrapped the dress in it. Clark, still in bed, seemed not the least disturbed by the crackling newspaper.
