by Janette Oke
Marty finished all her packing and preparation for their second day of travel, and Clark still hadn’t stirred. She wasn’t sure what she should do. She hated to waken him, but what if they were late and missed their train? She had no idea of the time. She crossed to where Clark’s vest hung on the back of a chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for his pocket watch. It isn’t there! Marty panicked and her mind immediately flashed to the terrible stories she had heard about the big city. They were true! Someone must have come into their room in the dead of night and stolen Clark’s watch. If his watch was gone, what else had they taken? Marty hurried to her case. Was her cameo from Ellie still there? And what about the gold brooch that Clark had given her two Christmases ago?
Marty had packed them on the very bottom of the suitcase. Carefully now she lifted each item from the case, going down on her knees on the floor to lay things out all around her. When she remembered the hours she had spent carefully packing each item of her clothing, she could have cried. Would she ever get them so neatly arranged again? Many of the gowns she had folded in thin tissue wrap supplied by the dress shops in which she had made her purchases. And now, as she lifted them out, no matter how hard she tried to be careful, she disturbed the garments and wrinkled the tissue. Yet she had to know— were her few items of precious jewelry stolen along with Clark’s watch? Clark would be so disappointed! His three sons had gone together to purchase the gift for his last birthday, and he had proudly worn the watch chain across his chest.
Marty stopped suddenly in the middle of her frantic search. Perhaps she shouldn’t be wasting precious time now. Perhaps she should run down to the front desk and report the loss. Maybe there still was a chance to catch the thief. No, first she must know how many missing things to report. So Marty continued unpacking her case, item by item, laying each one around her in one of the neat piles on the deep blues, golds, wines, and scarlets of the carpeted floor.
Marty was almost to the last item when Clark roused from sleep and sat up in bed.
“Ya repackin’?” Clark asked mildly, though his expression looked rather dumbfounded.
“Oh, Clark!” Marty cried. “I’m so glad yer finally awake. We’ve had us thieves in the night.” Marty’s hands hurried on, emptying the last few items from her case.
“Thieves?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“What ya meanin’, thieves?”
But Marty interrupted him with a glad cry. “Oh, they’re still here! Oh, I’m so glad, so glad.”
Clark was out of bed by then, looking down at Marty, who clasped her precious jewelry to her bosom.
“Look!” she cried. “They didn’t find ’em.”
“Who find what? I’m not followin’—”
“The thieves—the thieves who stole yer watch. Oh, Clark, I’m so sorry. I know how much ya loved thet watch an’—”
“Ya meanin’ this watch?” Clark asked, lifting it from the small table by the bed.
Marty gasped, “Ya found it!”
“Found it? I never lost it. I put it there by my bed so’s I could check the time in the mornin’.”
“Oh, Clark. I checked in yer pockets fer it, an’ when I couldn’t find it I thought thet someone had—”
But Clark had started to laugh. He pointed at Marty and at the empty case and the heaped-up clothing and laughed uproariously.
At first Marty felt chagrined by his outburst, since she was not yet over her concern and fear during the trying ordeal of the last several minutes. Then she looked about her at the clutter and then at the watch held dangling from its chain in Clark’s hand, and the humor of the situation struck her also. She buried her face in her hands and laughed with Clark.
When she finally had control of herself again, she gasped out, “Well, if this isn’t ’bout the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Jest look at me! I think thet my sleepless nights have really addled my brain. Oh, Clark, jest look at the mess I got here!”
Then a new thought struck her. The repacking of the case was going to take some time if she was going to do it carefully. Perhaps she would need to stuff things into the case and run to catch the train. Nervously, she looked up, her hands quickly starting to return things to their proper places. “How much time we got ’fore—?”
Clark assured her they had far more time than she would ever need for the repacking, even though she was “as particular and fussy as Aunt Gertie.” Marty had never come by any more information than that about Aunt Gertie, but when Clark wanted to make a point of someone’s fussiness, he always brought up this aunt of his. The boys had taken up the phrase, too, though they knew nothing more than she did of the mysterious Aunt Gertie.
Marty, relieved that there was plenty of time, carefully set out to put everything back in its proper place while Clark shaved and dressed.
She was still laboring over the open case when Clark stood, hat in hand, ready to go.
“Be it time?” Marty inquired.
“Take yer time—we still got lots of it. Soon as yer ready, we’ll go on down an’ find us some breakfast. A man can’t travel on an empty stomach. Then we’ll come back on up an’ pick up our things.” Clark tipped up Marty’s chin and looked into her face with a smile. “Guess we might as well do the rest of our waitin’ at the train station. I have me a feelin’ thet yer not gonna rest easy until yer sure thet yer gonna be on thet there train,” he added.
Marty packed in the last few items and closed the case. She stood to her feet and nodded her head. There was no use denying what Clark had just said. He knew her far too well.
“I’m ready now,” she said. “An’, yes, I could be usin’ some breakfast.”
Clark offered his arm, checked his safe-in-hand watch, shook his head a bit, and chuckled again.
FIVE
The Real Journey Begins
At the train station, Marty was sure she had never seen so many people all in one place. Her eyes and ears were busy noting and storing up the new sights and sounds all around her. What would Nandry, Clae, and Ellie think if they could see all this!
Clark found a bench on which Marty could wait and went to make final arrangements for their journey. She sat and watched the array of marvelously colorful dresses, even on little girls. Why, the menfolk looked like they belonged on the pages of some storybook!
Even though there was still lots of time before the train was due to leave the station, Clark had been correct about her state of mind. Marty would not really rest easy until she was actually seated on the train and assured that its engine was pulling them westward. So in spite of her interest in the crowd, she fidgeted and was glad when she saw Clark moving back across the room toward her.
A rather confident looking woman with bright hair and a broad-brimmed scarlet-plumed hat sat across the room. To Marty’s surprise, the woman also seemed to be watching Clark’s approach. The woman looked out from under her hat brim, then she seemed to deliberately drop a glove at her own feet and pretended to go back to the book she held before her face. As Clark reached the “lost” glove, he bent, gentlemanlike, recovered it, and then glanced around to see who its owner might be. Marty saw the woman steal a very small peek, and then her long eyelashes began to flutter. Marty knew she was about to make her presence known to Clark in some clever little speech.
Marty stood quickly and spoke before the lady in the hat had time to open her mouth. “Everythin’ set, Clark? Oh, a glove. Perhaps it belongs to you, ma’am,” she said, reaching for it and turning to the woman with a smile. “It matches your hat perfectly.”
The lady accepted her glove without comment. Marty moved away, taking Clark’s arm and steering him to a seat nearer the exit door. I can’t imagine the brazenness of these city women, she was fuming inwardly. They’d try to steal a woman’s husband right out from under her very nose. Why, that’s even worse than taking a watch! Clark seemed to remain unaware of the small hubbub as the two settled themselves on the bench together. Marty carefully avoided any eye contact wit
h the woman across the station.
Someone finally called, “All aboard for points west,” and Marty quickly stood, shook the wrinkles from her skirt, and straightened her hat. Clark gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and they moved with the crowd toward the waiting train.
Having never been on a train before, Marty was both excited and apprehensive. She found the high steps awkward to maneuver with her long skirt and was glad for Clark’s helping hand as she climbed up.
Inside the train car, the rows and rows of seats were not as elegant as Marty had imagined they would be. The plush fabric was faded and even a little frayed in spots. Marty figured out that the fancier newer train cars would run between the large eastern cities.
They were jostled a bit as they sought a seat. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to find a place, as though they were afraid the train might leave without them. Clark and Marty found a seat quickly enough. They settled themselves and tucked their carry-along luggage under the seat. Marty sighed deeply. They had made it. Now if she only could get a glimpse of the sun to make sure this train was pointed in the right direction.
Gradually the commotion around them began to subside as other passengers settled in, as well. Marty noticed that not very many women had boarded the train. The men around them appeared to be of every type and station in life—from businessmen to cattlemen, from miners to farmers like themselves, drifters and maybe even youngsters running away from home.
Marty shuddered as the scarlet plumes moved past them down the aisle and the woman from the station, with skirts and eyelashes fluttering, took a seat. She had selected a spot far from the other womenfolk in the car, among the men who had already pulled out a deck of cards and made themselves a makeshift table. Great drifts of cigar and cigarette smoke already blurred the air around them. Marty hoped there would be no smokers in her area, but it was in vain. Not being used to smoke at all, Marty found it particularly trying. Were they to endure this all the way to Missie’s? Already she felt about ready to choke, and they hadn’t even left the station yet.
The train gave a long low sound like an anguished groan, and the squeaking wheels began to revolve slowly. They were on the way at last. To Marty’s vexation, she still couldn’t tell if they were headed in the right direction.
Gradually the train began to pick up momentum. The rough-looking buildings on the back streets of the town flashed past them now. Marty watched carriages and horsemen pulled up on side streets waiting for the train to pass by. Children called and waved, and dogs barked. The train’s whistle blew in response, but it steadily moved on.
They left the town behind and moved out into the open countryside. Marty could not draw her gaze away from the window. Trees swished by them, cattle lifted tails and ran off bawling, horses snorted and swung away, blowing angrily, tails and manes flying. Still the train pounded on, wheels clickityclacking and smokestack spewing forth great billows streaming by their window.
It’s a wonder, that’s what it is, thought Marty. Why, I bet we’re going about as fast as a horse can gallop, and nobody needs to lift a finger for the doing of it. Though she probably would have gotten a vigorous argument if she had expressed such thoughts to the train engineer or coal stoker.
Marty finally took her eyes from the passing countryside long enough to look at Clark, interested in his reaction to this captivating new experience. To her amazement, she found that Clark had settled himself comfortably and, with head leaning back against the makeshift package of their food bundle, he slept soundly as though sleep was the full purpose of a train ride.
“Well, I never,” muttered Marty under her breath and then smiled. She should be sleeping, too. The recent days had been most difficult and busy, and the sleep she had gotten in the last few nights was limited indeed. Clark was wise. He, too, was tired. He needed the rest. She’d try, as well. But, in spite of her resolve, she could not as yet get her mind or body to relax. She’d just watch the scenery for a while. Maybe she could sleep later.
Marty must have slept, for she aroused at the sound of a crying baby. It took her a few moments to get her bearings, and then excitement again filled her as she recalled that they were on the way to Missie.
The baby continued to cry. Marty opened her eyes and turned toward Clark. But when she looked, he was not there. For a moment, she was unnerved. Where could one disappear to on a moving train? Remembering the “lost-watch” scare of the morning, she told herself that Clark would not be far away and not to get in a dither.
The coach was even more blue with smoke than it had been when she had dropped off to sleep. It was hot and stuffy, too, and Marty longed for some fresh air. She gazed about her at the crowded coach. The poker game was still going on at the far end of the car. The woman had removed her brilliant hat, and she no longer sat alone. A distinguished gentleman in a fancy suit and frilly shirt was sitting with her. They laughed as they talked.
The crying baby was in the seat across the aisle. The poor mother already looked tired out. She had two other little ones with her, as well. The man who accompanied her growled to her to “hush the brat ’fore we git throwed off the train,” and the woman tried even more intently to quiet the infant. But the baby was not to be placated. The man got up and, angrily muttering to himself, left. This started another one of the children crying, and the young mother really had her hands full. Marty started to leave her seat and go to the woman’s aid, but a matronly looking woman arrived on the scene first.
“Can I help you some?” she asked the mother, and, without waiting for a reply, she took the crying baby. “You care for your son, and I’ll try to get the baby to sleep.”
Marty’s heart went out to the young mother, and she said a quick prayer of thanks for the kind motherly soul who was helping. She laid the baby in her lap and loosened the blanket. The baby soon was sleeping, and Marty wondered if perhaps the young mother had bundled the little one too tightly and the poor infant was nearly smothering in the discomfort of the sun-heated coach.
Marty laid aside her own hat and tried to fan her flushed face. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go for a walk, she thought. Sure would feel good to have a little wind on one’s face.
Clark returned, and Marty was relieved in spite of her little inner lecture earlier.
“Feelin’ a little better?” Clark asked.
“I did sleep some, an’ it sure didn’t do me no harm. Would be nice to cool off a mite. This here coach is so stuffy an’ so filled with smoke, I feel like I’m travelin’ in a saloon ’stead of a—”
“Now, what you be knowin’ ’bout a saloon?”
“I don’t, it’s jest—”
But Clark was laughing at her.
“Where ya been?” asked Marty to change the conversation.
“Jest stretchin’ my legs some. Ain’t much of a place to walk, thet’s fer sure. Jest back an’ forth, back an’ forth. S’pose it helped a little.”
“What I wouldn’t give fer a walk ’bout now,” said Marty.
“Ya want fer me to ask ’em to stop the train an’ let ya off fer a spell?”
“Clark …” But she didn’t finish, and Clark stopped his teasing.
“What time is it, anyway?” asked Marty finally.
Clark pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, it’s almost noon. Quarter of twelve, in fact.”
Marty sighed heavily. “Thought it would be at least late afternoon,” she said. “Seems like we been travelin’ fer half of forever already.”
Clark smiled.
“How many days did ya say we’d be on the train?”
“Reckon they didn’t say fer sure. They was rather offhand about arrivin’ time. Said thet the trip usually took ’bout a week—dependin’ on the weather, the track, an’ such.”
“A week! I’m thinkin’ we’ll have us enough of this train by the time thet week is over.”
“Well, now, I didn’t say this train, exactly. We’ll be leavin’ this train in three days’ time. We transfer to another one.
This one’s usually on time to where it’s goin’. It’s the one further on thet’s some changeable.”
“I didn’t know thet we would be gettin’ on another train. What’ll it be like?”
“I’m not rightly sure. Only thing I know, it seems a bit unpredictable. But it won’t be so bad. By the time we board her, we’ll already be in the West an’ almost there.”
Marty suddenly felt hungry. “Anythin’ still fittin’ to eat in thet there pillow of yours?”
Clark passed her the lunch. It hadn’t suffered much. Ellie had packed it well.
Marty lifted out a box that held sandwiches. “Sure would be glad fer a nice hot cup of tea or coffee,” she commented.
“I think thet I jest might be able to find us some,” said Clark and left his seat, walked down the aisle and out the swinging door. He was soon back with two steaming mugs of hot coffee. It was too strong for Marty’s liking, but it was coffee and it did wash the smoke taste from her throat.
They finished their lunch with a couple of tarts, and Marty carefully repacked the uneaten food.
“Ya know, ya could stretch yer legs a bit iffen ya like to,” offered Clark. “Seed other women movin’ ’bout some. An’ the little room’s down thet way,” he motioned.
Marty smiled her thanks and stood up. She couldn’t believe how rumpled her dress looked in just one morning. She tried to smooth the wrinkles out but they stubbornly remained, so she shrugged in resignation and moved out into the aisle.
Marty had been vaguely aware of the rock and sway of the train as she sat in her seat, but she had had no idea how decided it was until she took a step forward. The train suddenly seemed to lurch, throwing her off balance. She quickly put out a foot to rebalance herself when the train rolled the other way, leaving her startlingly off-balance again. Each place she went to put her foot was either too high or too low. At last she gave up trying to make it on her own and firmly grasped the seats as she moved forward. It seemed to be an awfully long walk to the “little room,” and by the time Marty had made it back to Clark, she’d had enough of train-aisle walking for the time.
