by Janette Oke
“Jedd Larson made his peace with his Savior.”
“Oh, thank ya, Father,” prayed Marty aloud, happy tears running down her cheeks.
Clark cleared his throat.
“He joined Tina in another way, too.” He paused for a moment, then said quietly, “Jedd didn’t make it. Juan had to operate. Jedd wasn’t strong enough to stand it. The frozen fingers and toes had turned bad, an’ there weren’t any way Juan could save ’im. He’s been stayin’ with him day an’ night, fightin’ to bring ’im through this, but—”
“But he did, Clark. He did!” exclaimed Marty. “Because of Juan’s fight to save ’im, Jedd not only has life—but everlastin’ life.”
“I’m afraid it’s hard for a doctor to look at things thet way,” said Clark soberly.
“But it’s true. And, oh, Clark, if you hadn’t been here, Jedd maybe wouldn’ta decided to make his peace with God ’fore he died.” Marty’s eyes fell to Clark’s pant leg, pinned up securely just below the knee. “If it weren’t fer the accident, ya wouldn’t still be here, Clark. We would’ve gone home long ago.”
Clark pulled her closer to him and kissed her hair, and Missie joined them on the other side as they embraced and thanked the Lord together for Jedd’s salvation.
During the long winter days, Marty spent much of her time in the little soddy knitting, mending, or hand-sewing for Missie and her family. She also had a basketful of socks to mend for the ranch hands, having made discreet inquiries after the boots had come off at dinnertime on Christmas. Clark used his hours to make things with his hands and his limited tools. In the long evenings, he spent hours with the Bible, preparing the Sunday lessons for the congregation.
Each Sunday after the worshipers gathered together for their service, there were discussions concerning the materials and the progress of the church building. As the committee continued planning and ordering supplies, the building was taking shape on paper and in the minds of the people, even though not a stake had been pounded or a nail driven. However, the supplies were all being stockpiled at the Newtons’ as they arrived by train, and a building bee was planned as soon as the weather would permit. Folks hoped for an early spring so the work might be started.
As the weather improved, so did the Sunday attendance. Once again, the folks from the town ventured out on their long drive. But they seemed anxious to be a part of the fellowship and to keep informed about progress on the church building. Besides, they reported, though they enjoyed the Bible studies at home and it had been a good idea, it was not the same as meeting with the group and hearing Clark’s insights on the truths from the Scripture portion.
During the week, when Marty felt too confined, she would toss a shawl about her shoulders and hurry over the snowcrusted path to Missie’s house. On a few occasions, Missie came to visit her while the children slept. Missie said she loved to sit in the quiet, snug little soddy, sipping tea and telling stories about those first years at the ranch. Missie occasionally acknowledged aloud that the days were quickly passing and her beloved mother would all too soon return back home.
As the winter days lengthened, their visits turned to garden plans and setting hens. It was hard to stay in the house with the drifts of snow shrinking daily. The boys gamboled about like young colts finally set free in the sunshine and hints of warmth to come. Their mother had to coax and scold them to keep their warm jackets on and buttoned.
Clark, too, had been planning ahead, only his thoughts had taken a different turn. He thought often about the small congregation. He had enjoyed the opportunity to lead them over the winter months. He knew they were not likely to soon find a minister for the group. What would happen when he had to leave for home? Clark decided to ride over and talk about it with Henry. And so it was that Clark began to have study ses- sions with Henry to prepare him to take over leadership of the church. The people would know that when Clark left there would still be worship and Bible study. The building was only a small part of the requirements for a congregation.
At long last, spring did arrive. This time it did not come slowly as spring so often does. One day it was still winter, and the next day spring was unmistakably in the air.
The spring birds appeared, little flowers colored the hillsides, green grass carpeted the area by the flowing spring, and Nathan ran capless and nursed a runny nose.
Missie’s mind quickly switched to her planting. She pulled out all her seeds, giving special attention to the ones Clark and Marty had brought with them. Spreading the little packages all across her table, she and her father began to sort and plan. Nathan and Josiah wanted to get in on the interesting activity, and soon her carefully sorted seeds were all mixed up again. Marty shepherded the boys to the kitchen for milk and cookies, and Clark and Missie continued their garden plans.
In spite of his crutch, it was Clark who tended to the plowing of the soil. He arranged little pots for planting seedlings inside and advised Missie as to what would grow best, as well as where and when to plant them.
After the garden was started, it was time for Missie to turn to her chickens. She had spotted six hens with a desire to nest, and she carefully selected a setting of eggs for each one of them. Clark helped her with the coops, and the hens were housed in fine style. Missie placed her settings under the mothers-to-be and marked her calendar for the coming event. Marty couldn’t help smiling as she watched father and daughter work together.
The date for the church building bee was set. Wagons loaded with excited families, plenty of food, and necessary tools headed for the Newtons’ ranch. Cookie had to be available at home to feed the hands who were on duty with the cattle. Wong did not go, either. He was not a builder and did not feel comfortable sharing the cooking duties with several neighborhood women, so he stayed in his own kitchen and sent a big bucket of his special doughnuts to go with the morning coffee.
Juan had discovered two experienced carpenters from town who took charge of the actual construction. The neighborhood men offered their hands and skills wherever they were needed.
Within the week the church building was lifting its spire proudly toward the sky, the barren prairie and wide horizon providing a dramatic silhouette. Señora de la Rosa wept the first time she heard the bell peal, reaching across the miles and echoing from the distant hills.
The announcement of the first service in the new church brought many new faces to the congregation that day. Clark wondered, as he looked over the crowd from his place on the platform, how many were there for social reasons or idle curiosity and how many were already genuine worshipers “in spirit and in truth.” Regardless of what had brought them there that day, he saw a wonderful opportunity to open the Word of God to them.
Marty sat with Missie and her family on one of the new pews, Nathan tucked in between them and Josiah snuggled on his mother’s lap. I love the smell of new wood, thought Marty as she looked around at the families nearby and sensed their joyful anticipation. While we’ve been here, her thoughts moved on, God has provided a doctor for their bodies’ needs and a church for their spiritual needs. Thank you, Lord!
As the Sundays continued to come and go, Clark was pleased to see quite a few of the visitors continue to come. The regular attendees made a point of keeping in contact with each new visitor to the church.
Nathan and Josiah now spent much of their time outside during the lovely spring weather. With their grandfather’s help, they had planted their own small garden and checked it daily, running to their grandmother with progress reports.
“It’s growin’!” cried Nathan one day as he burst in upon Marty.
“What’s growin’?” she asked innocently.
“My garden! Come see. Come see.”
Marty hurried after him. Nathan fell on his knees and pointed to some small green plants just beginning to poke their heads out of the soil. Marty didn’t have the heart to tell him just then that they were weeds. Wait until some real garden begins to grow, she told herself, and then we’ll take ca
re of the weeds.
But Josiah had his own way of looking after the weeds. He pulled them up to see how they were doing, then pushed them awkwardly into the ground again and pounded on their tender tops with his pudgy palm—even the hardy weeds did not survive his “tender” care.
Eventually the “real” gardens did begin to grow. Marty was not sure who was the most excited with their growing plants— the two small boys or Missie. Marty understood. She wished she were home planting her own garden. She missed it and wondered if Ellie and the boys would be taking care of it.
Marty took another horseback ride out with Missie and the boys to view the herds. Hundreds of spring calves scampered around their bawling mothers. Marty had never seen such a sight and tucked it away in her memory to report on when she and Clark returned home.
Nathan climbed down off his pony to pick wild flowers for his two favorite ladies. Marty’s smile went from him to Missie, who sat on her horse with young Josiah astraddle in front of her. Missie’s face was flushed, her figure gently rounding with the new life growing within her, and her hair, teased loose by the prairie wind, fanned about her. Behind her, the hills rolled on and on like a gently dipping sage-green sea. Beyond them, the mountains lifted silver peaks to play secret games with the fluffy clouds that hung low in the sky. The scene was lovely, full of life and warmth and love—a memory Marty would cherish for many years to come.
She was thankful now that Missie and Willie had come west. She was glad she and Clark had been able to visit. She was even glad for the extra time that Clark’s accident had allowed them. Missie was happy here. As Marty looked at her contented daughter, she realized that Missie really belonged here. She was a gentle part of Willie’s West. Marty looked about her with new appreciation for the ever-present hills and the openness—even the wind. This land spoke of freedom, of independence, and of strength. Marty was proud that her daughter was a part of it.
They rode home in silence … no doubt each thinking her own thoughts. Nathan cantered ahead on Spider, manfully “breaking trail” for his mother and grandmother. Josiah, his head resting against his mother, had nodded off to sleep.
Clark was waiting for them when they returned. He had spent the day putting new legs on Cookie’s worktable.
“How did you and Cookie make out?” asked Missie. She and Marty knew that Clark had been looking for an opportunity for a heart-to-heart talk with Cookie about his relationship with God.
Clark shook his head. “We had a good talk—nice an’ open—but Cookie is still hesitant. He says he wants to be sure he is acceptin’ Jesus Christ—not Clark Davis.”
“I don’t understand,” said Missie.
Marty thought about the statement for a moment. “I think maybe I do,” she said slowly.
“Well,” Clark said modestly, “Cookie says he admires me … guess ’cause we both of us had a similar kind of accident. Not much to admire a man fer, but Cookie reasons a little different than some men do. Anyway, he listens to the Word as I give it Sunday by Sunday; he sees me able to make do with one leg … I don’t know. He’s got it all mixed up as to what I can do as a man and what I can do with the Lord’s help. He’s not sure yet where the difference lies. Cookie’s right, ya know. I don’t want him to be a follower of Clark Davis. Iffen he can’t find the difference here, he should wait until he does. No good followin’ a man. Nothin’ I can give to Cookie he can’t find in himself.”
“Sounds strange to me,” mused Missie. “I’ve never thought of anyone getting mixed up about who to be following before. Seems plain to me that Jesus is the only way to heaven.”
“I left Cookie my Bible and marked some verses for ’im to read. I hope he can understand their meanin’.”
“We’re gonna have to do some praying,” Missie said simply as Clark and Nathan moved away with the horses and she and Marty walked on to the house, Josiah asleep in her arms. “If Pa can’t make Cookie see the difference, how will Willie or Henry ever do it?”
Eventually they learned that it was Lane who showed Cookie the difference. He walked into the cook shack and found Cookie frowning over Clark’s Bible.
“I still don’t figure it,” mumbled Cookie.
“Don’t figure what?” asked Lane, reaching for the everready coffeepot.
“If I take on this here religion, will I be doin’ it to try to become a man like Clark Davis?”
“What’s wrong with bein’ a man like Clark Davis?”
“Nothin’. Nothin’ I can see. Only he says thet tryin’ to be like ’im ain’t gonna git me one step closer to those pearly gates yer always talkin’ ’bout.”
“Oh, thet,” said Lane, understanding Cookie’s dilemma. “He’s right.”
“But how can I be like Jesus?” asked Cookie in frustration. “I don’t even know Him.”
“Forgit ’bout bein’ like Him fer now,” said Lane. “Yer tryin’ to start too far ahead of yerself.” Cookie looked doubtful but let Lane continue.
“You’ve heard it preached an’ read many times thet all men are sinners?”
“Yah,” grunted Cookie.
“Are ya doubtin’ ya fit in thet category?”
“Shucks, no,” said Cookie. “I know myself better’n thet.”
“Okay,” said Lane, “thet’s where ya start. Now ya know yer a sinner, an’ I guess if yer wantin’ to copy Davis, ya don’t really want to stay one.”
Cookie nodded his agreement.
“Well, how ya try to clean up yer act ain’t gonna make a whole lot of difference. You’ll never measure up, no matter how hard ya try. Oh, ya might even git to act as good as Clark Davis himself, but thet won’t really impress God none. He still sees deeper than the skin.
“The Bible says thet man looks on the outside, but God looks on the heart. Also says thet the heart of man is ‘desperately wicked.’ But the good news is thet our hearts can be changed. Now, thet there’s the startin’ place.
“Jesus, holy an’ pure, died fer every dirty, wicked heart thet ever beat. All we gotta do is see what we are, an’ who He is, an’ accept fer ourselves what He did. Thet’s all there is to it. From there on, He does the workin’ on makin’ ya a follower.”
Cookie’s eyes opened wide at the simplicity of it. Lane gulped the last of his coffee, placed his cup on the table, and headed for the door.
When he reached the door he hesitated, turned to Cookie, and said softly, “All ya gotta do is ask Him.”
After Lane was gone, Cookie did.
NINETEEN
Plans and Farewells
Clark and Marty began to talk about when they should go home, talking quietly together in the privacy of the little soddy. At first it was like a dream to be thinking of boarding the slowmoving train again and leaving behind the West that they had come to respect and the family they loved so deeply. Marty wished there was a way she could bundle them all up and take them home with her. But then she thought of Willie and his love for his spread, Missie and the sun reflecting in her eyes, and Nathan and Josiah as they rushed about their beloved hills with the wind whipping at their hair. And she knew she would not want to pick them up by their roots and try to transplant them—not really.
Marty’s thoughts turned more and more to her farm-home family. How’re Clare and his young Kate doing in the little log house? Is Arnie still seeing the preacher’s daughter? What is the girl really like? Is Ellie entertaining any gentleman callers? Which of the neighborhood young men will be the first one to notice our pretty young daughter who is now a woman? She wondered if Luke still nursed his dream of going off to train as a doctor and how Dr. Watkins and the boy were getting along. Marty was anxious to get home again and have some of her questions answered.
A long letter from Ellie arrived. She told about the new grass and leaves on the flowering shrubs. She spoke of the songbirds that were back and the new colt in the pasture. She reported that Clare had plowed the garden spot and she and Kate had planted the garden—more than they would ever be using th
emselves, she was sure, but they just couldn’t seem to stop once they had gotten started. She told of Nandry’s tears of joy and sorrow upon receiving the news of her father. She wrote that Nandry had immediately sat down and penned a long letter to Clae and Joe. Ellie gave news about the neighbors, the church, and the school. But she did not say how Clare and Kate were doing in the little house, or if Arnie was still seeing the preacher’s daughter, or if she, Ellie, was receiving gentleman callers, or how Luke was doing in his quest of becoming a doctor. Marty’s heart yearned to know all the answers.
“Clark,” she said, folding up the letter for the third time, “I think it’s time we got us some tickets.”
Clark ran a hand over the rope he was braiding for Nathan. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I think it is. We best have us a chat with Willie an’ Missie tonight.”
That evening Marty expected some protests when they voiced their decision. Missie put down the cup of coffee she had just poured and took a deep breath.
“No use pretending that we didn’t know it had to come,” she said quietly. “No use fussing about it. You must be powerful lonesome for the ones at home. I marvel that you were able to stay away this long.” She poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Willie. “Of course, I wish you could just stay on here forever. But I know better. Truth is, I’m thankful for every day we’ve already had.”
Willie cleared his throat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Don’t know as how I’m gonna git along without yer pair of hands,” he said to Clark. “Can’t believe the number of little things you’ve seen to over the winter months—things thet none of us ever seemed to find time fer.”
Clark smiled. “Got a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t I see iffen I can talk yer pa into comin’ out fer a spell? He’s awful handy round a place. Never seen a man thet could make things look better in short order than yer pa. How ’bout it?”
Willie grinned. “I’d like thet,” he said sincerely. “Seems like a long time since I seen my pa.”
