Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (16 page)

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it exposed to the air, thinking that the air might somehow do it some good. Then she cleaned the scissors and knife that she had used and put things away in their proper places and went to her own bed.

Down upon her knees, she cried out her anguish to God. She began by telling Him how much Clark meant to her and reminding God of how faithfully Clark had served Him over the years. She told God that she had already suffered through the loss of one husband and couldn't possibly bear to lose another. She reminded the Lord of her family at home and of Missie and the grandchildren here. They too needed Clark. And then she pleaded and finally demanded that God heal her husband. Hadn't He promised to answer the prayers of His children when they prayed in faith, prayed believing?

Then she returned to Clark. Clark's breathing was just as shallow, his face just as flushed, his brow just as hot as before; but Marty determined that she would sit right beside him and wait for the Lord's miracle.

Missie came in. At the sight of her father's infected leg, she gave a little cry and, placing her hand over her mouth, ran from the room. Marty's heart ached for her.
What would she ever have done if she'd seen it 'fore I cleaned it up?
thought Marty. Marty was thankful Missie had been spared at least that much.

Missie too went to her room and fell down beside her bed. "Oh, God," she prayed. "Ya can't let Pa die. Ya can't! Please, God. Please." Missie was unable to do more than tearfully plead.

In Clark's room, the drug began to wear off. Clark tossed and turned in his pain. Marty bathed his hot face and body in an attempt to get the fever down. It had little effect. Clark soon became delirious, and Marty had to call for help to hold him. Willie came and then Cookie, and the two men sent Marty from the room. Marty paced back and forth, back and forth, praying that God's miracle might soon come. Still Clark's screams and groans reached her ears.

Maria came. White-faced and wide-eyed, she stood in the hallway and talked to the tearful Missie. She did not stay

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long. The agony of Clark and the distress of the total household drove her crying from the home.

The hours crawled by. Marty went to the sickroom occasionally, but Clark's misery was more than she could bear. At last, she went to her room again, and again fell beside her bed. This time her prayer was different.

"Oh, God!" she cried. "Ya know best. I can't stand to see 'im suffer so. I love 'im, God. I love 'im so. Iffen Ya want to take 'im, then it's all right. I won't be blamin' Ya, God. Ya know what's best. I don't want 'im to suffer, God. I leave 'im in Yer hands. Yer will be done, whether it's healin' or takin', thet's up to You, God. An', God, whatever Yer will, I know thet Ya'll give me--an' all of us--the strength thet we need to bear

it."

Marty arose from her knees and went to find Missie. A strange peace filled Marty. She still shivered with each scream from Clark. It still pierced her very soul to know that he suffered so, but Marty knew that God was in control and that His divine will would be done.

She found Missie in the boys' room. The boys were not there. They had been taken to the barn by Lane so that they might not hear the agonizing cries of their grandfather.

Missie clutched the small harness that Clark had used to carry her as an infant and that she in turn had used to carry her own sons. She was sobbing out her hurt and anguish.

"Missie," Marty said, taking the girl into her arms. "It's gonna be all right. I know it is."

Missie burst into fresh tears. "Oh, I wanna believe that. I've been prayin' an' prayin' for God to make him well." "He may not," said Marty simply.

Missie looked at her mother in bewilderment.

"But ya said--"

"I said it will be all right. An' it will. Whatever God decides to do will be the best. He knows us. He knows our needs. He seeks our good. Whatever He wills--"

But Missie pushed away her arms.

"Oh, Missie, Missie," sobbed Marty. "I fought it too. I fought it with all my being'. I want yer pa. I want him here with

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me. But God knows thet. I don't even have to tell 'im. But, little girl, we've got to trust Him. We've gotta let God truly be God."

Missie rose and left the room, still sobbing. Marty heard her close the door on her own room and throw herself on the bed. There was nothing more that Marty could say. She could only pray.

Marty went to the kitchen to ask Wong for coffee for the men in the sickroom. Clark had been given another opportunity of rest. The last of the medication had been given. Each one in the house felt the lingering question of "what then--?"

As Marty carried the pot of coffee and cups to the room, she met Missie in the hall. Her face was still tear-streaked but more serene. "Mama," she said, "I just wanted you to know that it's all right. I've prayed it all through, an' I'm . . . I'm willin' to. . . to let God be God. He does know best. I knew it all along. It's just easy to forget sometimes when you want your own way so--" She could go no further.

Marty managed a weak smile, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. She leaned over and kissed Missie on the cheek and then moved to go on to the room where Clark lay.

Missie wiped her tears on her apron and straightened up just as a knock sounded on the door.

Missie went to answer. Maria stood there, her shoulders square and her eyes shining with faith and pride. And just behind her stood Juan.

"Can we come in?" she asked. "My husband . . . is a doctor."

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Chapter Seventeen

Juan

Juan walked purposefully into the sickroom and set his case on the bed. His quick glance took in Clark's pallor and the flush that colored his cheeks. His nose caught the stench of rotting flesh, and he turned to the leg.

He knew even before he looked just what he would find. The crushed limb was badly infected, and the gangrene was not only eating away the flesh of the leg but was also poisoning the body of the man. The leg would have to be removed.

Juan's thoughts went back to another time, one just like this one. Another man lay before him with a similar leg and, at that time as well, Juan the doctor had needed to make a lifesaving decision. He had decided then, as he was deciding now, that the leg must be sacrificed in order to save the life. All of his training and experience told him so. He had done what he needed to do. The man had lived.

And then . . . Juan shuddered as other memories crowded into his mind. The angry screams, the raging accusations, the shouts that spoke of betrayal, and finally the sound of a pistol

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shot. For a moment, Juan felt that he must flee Clark's room--and the memories. Then the groans of the sick man and the cries of the women in the hall strengthened him. He straightened himself and looked at the two men in the room.

"I'm going to need lots of boiling water and a strong man to assist me," he said evenly and removed his jacket.

"I wish thet I could volunteer," said Willie. "I'd like to, but I'm a-feared thet I'd cave in halfway through. I can see to the water, an' I'll find ya a man."

Willie told the ladies about the need for boiling water and went on to the bunkhouse. Lane was sitting in the doorway watching Nathan and Josiah who played with Max.

Willie went to the bunkhouse, motioned Lane inside, and shut the door.

"We found us a doc," he said; and, at the surprise that showed on everyone's faces, he continued. "Juan. Juan has all the trainin' an' has even been in practice fer a few years. I know ya all have questions. So do I, but now ain't the time fer answers. We'll git 'em all in good time. Right now I need a man. I got a job thet won't be easy to do. The doc needs help. He's gonna take off thet there leg. Yer wonderin' why I don't offer, him being' my father-in-law an' all. Well, I'll tell ya straight out. I'm not sure thet I could take it. I might fold up on the doc jest when he needed me most. Anyone here thet thinks he could do it?"

Willie's eyes looked around the bunkhouse. Not all of the cowboys were in. Some of them were out on the range taking their shift with the cattle. Those who were in the room probably wished they were far away as well, mending fence or herding doggies. Willie had asked a hard thing.

Jake lay stretched out on his bunk, catching up on some sleep. He had had the late shift the night before. In the corner, Smith, the bitter, critical member of the crew, sat smoking a cigarette and staring at the cards in his hand. Browny was his partner in the game. Clyde, who sat on a stool near the window, shifted the lariat he was working on into the other hand and shot tobacco juice at the bean can sitting on the floor. Lane went white and stared at his hands as though trying to

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measure whether they would be capable of such a job. The room was heavy with silence. At last, Lane cleared his throat and spoke softly. "I'll go."

"Ya sure?"

Lane nodded his agreement.

"It won't be easy."

Lane recognized that.

"Wish I could help ya--I can't promise. Yer sure ya can do it?"

Lane swallowed. "I know
I
can't," he said solemnly. "But I'm . . . I'm trustin' thet
He
can."

The religion-hating Smith looked at the silent, shy Lane with grudging respect.

Willie and Lane went to the house where the doctor was waiting. Willie led the group in prayer, and the men went to Clark's room and the ladies to the kitchen.

The hands on the clock seemed to drag their way around. The three women sat at a small worktable, untouched coffee cups before them. They had prayed together off and on throughout the whole ordeal. They had cried together and praised together. Maria felt that it was time to share her secret.

"Juan always wanted to be a doctor. From the time he was a small boy, he dreamed and planned. At first his father said no. If he wanted to serve, he could be a priest and serve the church; but Juan pleaded. Finally his father said, 'Yes, go ahead; but you will need to pay your own way. My money will not go for foolish dreams.' His father is very wealthy. In his own way, he loves his sons. He wanted both of his boys to stay and ranch with him. Juan went away to the city to school. It was hard. He had to work and he had to study. His father thought that he would give up and come home again. But Juan did not. At last he was finished. He was a doctor and was given a good job in a city hospital. His father thought that he should come home now. He could be a doctor to the gringos and their families, but Juan said no, he must first know more, and then he would come home."

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Maria stopped. It was very difficult for her to continue.

"And then one day he was called home. It was urgent. He must go home right away. A man had been hurt. Juan went home and found the injured man. He, too, had crushed his leg. A horse had fallen on him. The leg was too badly broken to fix. It might have been different if he had quickly had a doctor and had been taken to a hospital soon. By the time Juan got there, the leg was as this one. It was infected and was stealing away the man's life."

Maria stopped again and took a deep breath.

"He had to take the man's leg. He had to. There was no other choice. Juan did the only thing that he could do. The man lived and he became again awake. And then . . . then a dreadful thing happened. He discovered that his leg was gone. He was angry. He screamed at Juan. He wanted to kill him. He said that Juan had always been jealous of him and had used his knife to make him less a man. He screamed and screamed until the father came. He too was angry. He sent Juan from the room. And then . . . then there was a pistol shot. Juan ran back to the room. The man had shot himself. Juan's father had not stopped him. The father lay weeping across the body of the dead man--his son--Juan's brother."

Missie gasped in horror and Marty shut her eyes against the awfulness of the story that Maria had told.

"Juan left his father's home and said that he would never, never be a doctor again. He hated what he had done to his family. He came to me. I loved him very much. We were planning to be married. Juan said that he could not marry me, that he was going far away. That he would never again be a doctor. He threw his bag across the yard and wept as he told me. I said that I loved him. That I still wanted to marry him. That I would go away with him. At last he said I could go. I packed a few things and we went to the village priest who married us. Juan did not know it, but I packed his medicine bag as well. It has been hidden these many years.

"We came here and we began to ranch. Juan knew ranching. He had been raised on one of the biggest ranches of Mexico. He had ridden and cared for cattle from the time he was a

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small nirio. But still Juan was not happy. He could not forget the past. He could not hide the desire to be a doctor."

Maria toyed with the handle of the cup that held the cold coffee.

"I said that Juan was troubled about coming to church. Of what to teach our little ones. That is right. I did not lie. But Juan is also troubled about other things. He looks at the boy with the twisted arm, and it turns a knife within him. He knows that he could have set the arm properly and the boy would not have been crippled. He knows of the boy with the broken ankle in town. He knows that you all suffer here in this house with the good man, Clark. It makes my Juan suffer, too. He has not slept or eaten the last several days. He did not know what to do. He did not know that I had his bag and there was some medicine in it."

Maria sighed.

"He will always ask himself, could he have saved the leg if he had come sooner?"

"No," said Marty. "He mustn't think that. The leg was crushed. It was a very bad break. I don't think thet anyone could have saved it. I pretended--but I didn't really believe. Juan mustn't blame hisself. He mustn't. He mustn't blame hisself 'bout his brother either. Juan did what had to be done. He couldn't have done anythin' else."

Maria smiled weakly. "I know that and you know that-- and down deep Juan knows that, too. But it still torments him. Only now--now I pray that he can forget that deep hurt and go on to heal. He was always meant to be a healer, my Juan."

Willie walked into the kitchen. His face was pale and his hands shaky.

"It's all over," he said. "Doc says it went well. Now we jest haf to wait an' see."

Marty rose to hurry to Clark, and Missie and Maria prayed together again.