Lonely In Longtree (14 page)

Monte saw Marva give her father a startled glance, and his hopes took a downturn. He cleared his throat and shifted on his chair. “It is not a pleasant story, sir, and I take no pleasure in repeating it.”

“Perhaps this will be the last time repetition will prove needful,” Mr. Obermeier said, his pale eyes offering neither reprieve nor condemnation.

“Myles and I both worked for a cattle outfit owned by Cass Murdoch in Texas. It was hard work with decent pay and lots of adventure. But I—I fell into bad company. Very bad company. I did things I don't ever want to think about.”

He could not look up from his coffee cup. Shame burned his face. These inescapable memories galled him always; to relate them to Marva and her parents was more painful than he had imagined.

“God listened to my grandmother's prayers. He gave me no peace. I was miserable all the time. Nothing gave me pleasure. Finally, I attended a camp meeting in the next town and heard an evangelist preach about Christ's death on the cross and His resurrection. I'd heard the story all my life, knew it by heart, yet that time God skewered me with it. I walked up the aisle and prayed with the minister. I can't describe the relief I felt when I handed my worthless life over to God.”

Seventeen

My beloved spake, and said unto me,

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Song of Solomon 2:10

Monte's voice broke. Mrs. Obermeier pressed a handkerchief into his hand, but he blinked hard and controlled his emotions.

“At first I didn't know what to do. I told Myles what God had done for me; I gave him a Bible so he could read for himself, but at the time he wasn't grateful. I know he was ashamed to call me his brother, and he had every reason to feel that way.

“A no-good gambler named Jeb Kirkpatrick was after my hide. I had owed him a bundle of money for months, and he knew I didn't have the cash. Always before when I got into gambling debt, I'd rustle a few head of beef. But since I gave my life to God, I knew stealing wasn't the answer to my problem. I kept praying, asking the Lord to show me what to do, and all the time, Jeb kept getting madder and more insistent that I pay up.

“One night, I was riding watch over the herd, all the while fighting my green-broke mustang. Jeb and his gang came riding up and demanded the cash. I told him I would have to make payments to him out of my salary. His antipathy to the plan was evidenced by the way he hauled out a gun and shot me. I'd be dead right now if my horse hadn't reared up and dropped me off. The cattle stampeded. I got stepped on at least once before I rolled into a ravine and hid.”

Marva reached across the table and took his hand. “Myles thought you were dead,” she said.

He nodded. “I didn't know it at the time, but Myles saw the scene from a distance. After the stampede, he came looking for me, didn't find me, and thought I'd been trampled to dust, I guess. He thought I was dead. I thought he left Texas because he never wanted to see me again. It took us twenty years and more to get our stories straight.”

“What a shame!” said Mrs. Obermeier. “But how did you keep alive?”

“The next thing I remember is waking up in an Indian's house. Not a tepee, but a house made of bricks. It was a family of Apaches—a man, his wife, two small children, and an old woman.”

“Surely not Apaches,” Mr. Obermeier interrupted. “They're the most savage of all Indian tribes. At least, so I've read. . . .”

“In Dutch Montana's books,” Marva finished his sentence.

“And other places,” her father defended himself.

Monte suddenly felt more relaxed. “They were Apaches right enough, and some of the most Christlike people I've met in all my days. The man spoke English and could read. A missionary had given him a Bible. He shared it with me while I stayed with them.

“I did some deep thinking while my wounds were healing. God started nagging me about all the stealing I had done. I read in the Bible where God wanted thieves to pay back what they had stolen—to make restitution. So as soon as I was back on my feet, I returned to Murdoch, my boss, and confessed. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was the right thing. Since I owned up, Murdoch was merciful. I spent two years locked up.”

“How awful for you!” Marva said just above a whisper. “Yet it was the right thing to do.”

Monte nodded. “While I was behind bars, Jeb Kirkpatrick and his gang were caught rustling, and some vigilantes lynched them on the spot.”

“Lynched?” Mrs. Obermeier inquired.

“It means a hanging without a trial,” her husband said, his tone grim.

“Had I been caught rustling, I would have been strung up alongside the others.”

“God's plans for your life helped put a stop to your wild ways just in time.” Marva's gentle squeeze of his hand lifted his spirits.

“Did you ever make restitution to your boss?” Mr. Obermeier asked.

“As soon as I got out of jail, I started working off my debt. It took more than two years to pay for the cattle I'd helped steal, and then Murdoch kept me on for another year after that. I talked with him a lot about God, and he started attending church with me. His wife and daughter became believers, and then the boss did, too. Not long afterwards, I cut loose and headed north.”

“Leaving all your friends behind?” Marva asked.

“It was time. I thought of hunting for Myles but hadn't a clue where to start looking. No one knew where he'd headed. I thought of returning to New York, but I wanted to wait until. . .well, until I had made something of myself. I was too proud to go back with my pockets empty. Stupid, I know, but that's how I felt.”

“And that was when you went to Wyoming and became a hunting guide and then started writing books?”

Monte nodded, grateful for Marva's conclusion to his tale.

A short silence fell. Monte studied Marva's strong, white fingers wrapped around his. The connection gave him comfort.

Her father cleared his throat. “Well, well. Thank you, Mr. Van Huysen, for sharing your story. I am certain it was not easy for you, but I believe the truth needed airing. To be sure, if anyone but you had told me such a drastic change in a man's life was possible, I would have scoffed. So often I have witnessed these dramatic conversions that later come to naught. . . . But yours is obviously genuine.”

Monte did not know how to respond to this. He simply nodded, holding the old man's gaze.

“Since your present reputation is built upon twenty years of honest living and hard work, Mrs. Obermeier and I give our approval to your suit. Why don't you two go on into the parlor where you can propose in private? We'll stay here.” Just as Monte and Marva started to rise, he added, “However, we believe a proper engagement period should be observed, since you've spent little time together in person.”

“Yes, sir.” Stepping to the end of the table, Monte gripped his future father-in-law's hand. “And thank you, sir.”

Mrs. Obermeier pulled Monte's head down and kissed his cheek. “She'll make you happy, Monte.”

He returned her teary-eyed smile. “And I'll do my best to make her happy, ma'am.”

❧

Carrying a lamp, Marva led the way to the parlor as if walking in a dream. A rush of cold air met them as Monte reached around her to push open the door. She stepped inside and set the lamp on one of her mother's hand-carved walnut tables.

“This room isn't very comfortable,” she said in apology.

“We shouldn't need to stay long.” He caught her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I've got to do this thing right.” He lowered himself to one knee and took her hand. “Marva Obermeier, my dear Lonely in Longtree, will you marry me and allow me to end your loneliness?”

Clutching his hand with both of hers, she laughed with a catch in her voice. “Yes, oh yes!”

“Then I shall truly be Lucky in Lakeland.” Using the sofa for support, he climbed back to his feet. “That going down on one knee is not as easy as it should be.” He took both her hands in his and turned her so the candlelight revealed her features. Gently he caressed the line of her jaw. “You are so lovely. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to the Lord for keeping you for me, for only me!”

Joy filled Marva's heart so full that she could not speak.

“May I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper.

She nodded. Her legs shook until she feared they would give way beneath her.

Slowly he leaned forward. His mustache brushed her cheek, and then his lips touched hers in a chaste kiss. Marva looked up into his dark eyes, wanting another kiss but too shy to ask. His hands slid up her arms to grip her shoulders, and he kissed her cheek, then her temple. With a little groan, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Marva, I love you so very much.”

Growing bolder, Marva slipped her hands around his waist and listened to his heart beating against her ear. “I love you, Monte.” Being in his arms felt so strange, yet so right.

He swallowed hard. “How—how long is a proper engagement period? Are we talking weeks? Months?”

“I don't know. Shall we ask my father?”

“I don't want to head back north without you, but I can't leave Hardy with all the work for too long.” He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

She squeezed his waist. “I don't want to be left behind.”

They held each other for another minute or two before he admitted, “I can hardly bear to let go of you.”

“I know.” With her face against his chest, she nodded, smiling yet serious.

“We'd better go talk to your parents before they come looking for us.” He took her by the hand, gazing once more into her eyes, then picked up the candle and led her from the room.

Marva's parents turned expectant faces their way as they entered the kitchen. “Your daughter has just promised to marry me,” Monte said, his voice hoarse. He had to clear his throat.

“Then we can start making plans,” Papa said, sounding nearly as gruff. “What do you say to marrying in December? Can you stay in the area that long?”

Monte's grip on Marva's hand tightened. “Yes, sir, I can make that work.”

“Good. That gives us plenty of time to sell this place and pack up to move north. I am assuming your offer of a home for your wife's parents still stands? I seem to recall such an offer early on in your newspaper correspondence with our daughter.” Papa's eyes held a subtle twinkle.

Monte grinned weakly. “It still stands, sir. She told you about that, eh?”

“Marva didn't have to tell us,” Mother said quickly. “We figured it out. I cannot tell you how hard it was to keep my mouth shut while we were in Minocqua! You two and your secrets.” She sniffed, but her smile took any sting from her words.

❧

“You are so lovely, my dear.” Mother smoothed Marva's hair over her ear and stepped back to admire. “That deep blue brings out your eyes.”

“I hope Mr. Van Huysen approves of my appearance.” Marva felt suddenly shy and uncertain.

“I am certain he will approve. If he does not, he knows nothing of fashion.” Mother touched the piped trim at Marva's wrist and nodded in satisfaction. “Men seldom notice a woman's attire anyway. He will focus on your face. Smile, child. You've caught yourself a fine man.”

Marva bridled. “I did not catch him, Mother. I wrote the first letter, but ever since then, he has pursued me. I was careful to leave matters entirely in his hands.”

Mother patted her hand. “Calm yourself; it is merely an expression. I am well aware that you have learned to put such matters into the Lord's keeping, since I have been learning the same lesson. I always longed for my daughter to experience happiness with the right man, but only because I love you so dearly.”

Relaxing, Marva tried to smile. “I know, Mother. Had I met Mr. Van Huysen twenty years ago, he would have broken my heart. The Lord's timing is perfect.”

“Amen.”

Marva turned at the sound of her father's voice. “Papa, you look so handsome in your best suit.” It was slightly threadbare at the cuffs, but no one would notice.

“Hmph.
Are you ready? The others are waiting.”

“I am ready, Papa.”

Her parents escorted her into the magistrate's office, where Monte waited along with Myles and Beulah. “Marva, you are so beautiful!” Beulah exclaimed, embracing her friend.

As Monte stepped forward to greet his bride, Papa removed her hand from his arm and placed it within Monte's grasp. “She is yours now, son.” His voice cracked, and he tried to cover it with a
harrumph
.

Marva listened closely as Monte repeated his vows to her, hoping she would always remember his tender tone as he promised to love, honor, and cherish her as his own flesh. His brown eyes glistened with unshed tears as he placed the ring on her finger.

To her surprise, her own voice sounded clear and steady as she pledged to love and obey this wonderful man for as long as they both should live. After the judge pronounced them husband and wife, Myles clapped his brother on the back. Marva found herself lost in a flurry of hugs and congratulations.

More friends attended the wedding dinner, held at Boz and Amelia Martin's boardinghouse. Marva chatted with friends of all ages, seeing their faces through a happy blur. Monte remained close beside her, yet the two of them could seldom exchange a word. Once, while Myles proposed a toast and the attention of others was distracted, Monte caught his wife's hand and lifted it to his lips. Marva returned his smile and felt an immediate renewal of her spirit.

When the celebration ended and the guests finally departed, Marva followed her husband upstairs. But instead of entering their room, he continued on to the back steps. “Where are we going?” she asked in surprise.

He put his finger to his lips. “To the stables. We're driving to the next town to stay the night, then taking a train north in the morning. Don't worry; I worked it all out with your father.”

Understanding dawned. “To avoid a shivaree?”

He nodded. “I have no desire to be kidnapped or paraded through town in my nightshirt.”

“But would they really do that to you? You're practically a stranger in town.”