Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) (6 page)

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"Thank ya, men--thank ya. You've done a fine job. Now it's gittin' late and time to be turnin' in. 'Sides, the mosquitoes are 'bout as hungry as I've ever see'd 'em." He waved a few away from his face.

"Tomorrow, being' Sunday, the train will stay to camp. Me, I'm not a religious man, but a day of rest jest plain makes sense--fer the animals an' fer us people. Now iffen you who are religious are hankerin' fer some kind of church service, I'm leavin' ya on yer own to do the plannin'. I'm no good at sech things. Fact is, I plan on spendin' tomorrow down at yonder crik, seem' iffen I can catch me some fish.

"Now, then, be there any of you who be wantin' church?" Quite a few hands were raised.

"Fine--fine," Mr. Blake said. "Klein, ya figurin' thet you can take charge?"

Henry nodded his assent and the meeting was dismissed.

Henry spent some time calling upon his wagon neighbors in preparation for the morrow's service. A few did not wish to take part, but most were eager to worship on the Lord's day.

Willie was appointed to read the Scripture; Henry himself took charge of the singing. And it was found that Mr. Weiss could play hymns on his old violin with even more feeling than he played the lively dance tunes and folk songs.

Sunday dawned clear and warm. The service had been set for 9:00 so that it would be over before the sun hung too hot in the sky. The people gathered in a grove of trees near the stream and settled themselves beneath the protective branches on logs that Willie and Henry had cut and placed there for that purpose.

They began with a hearty hymn-sing, Henry leading in a clear baritone voice. Kathy Weiss taught the group a new song--simple and short but with a catchy tune. Many hands clapped in accompaniment when they were not occupied elsewhere slapping mosquitoes.

Henry finally called a halt to the singing and asked Mr. Weiss to lead the group in prayer. He did, with such fervor that Missie was reminded of home.

Anyone who wished was invited to tell of their experiences on the trail. One by one, many stood expressing thanks to God for

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His leading, for strength, for assurance in spite of fears, for incidents of protection along the way. Missie and Becky exchanged looks of confidence and meaningful smiles.

After the last voluntary speaker had sat down, Willie read the Scripture. The people listened attentively as Willie's voice carried to them his excitement over the promises of God. When he closed the book there were many "amens."

It had been a good service, and as the people left they shook Henry's hand and thanked him for a job well done. Some suggested another hymn-sing round the fire that night, and so it was arranged.

The Sunday service and Sunday night hymn-sing became even more popular with the wagon-train members than the Saturday night doings. As the weeks went by, some of those who had not been interested at first in joining the Sunday crowd for their worship time found themselves washing their faces, putting on clean clothes, brushing the trail dust off their boots and heading for whatever spot had been set aside for that week's service. Missie and Willie were pleased to see the interest grow. The folks appeared to really need that restful time of worship and sharing on Sunday.

Mr. Blake, in the meantime, was left to his own choice of Sunday activity, whether it was hunting, fishing or just lying in the shade. Missie noticed him on one particular Sunday morning, though, when he had chosen to just loaf around camp. It looked suspiciously as if he were listening.

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Chapter
7

Tedious Journey

Day after long day rolled and bounced slowly by. Even the weather became monotonous. The sun blazed down upon them daily with only an occasional shower to bring temporary relief.

But gradually the travelers adjusted to the journey. Bodies still ached at the end of the day, but not with the same intense painfulness. Blisters had been replaced by callouses. Some of the horses had become lame; drivers watched with concern for any serious signs of injury to their animals.

One family, the Wilburs, had been forced to pull aside and retire from the train due to a lame horse that just could not continue on. Mr. Blake detoured the train about two miles out of its way in order to drop the young couple off at a small army outpost. The sergeant in charge said that he'd send a few of his men back with Mr. Wilbur to retrieve his stranded wagon and lead the horses to the safety of the fort. At the earliest future date the Wilburs would be escorted to the nearest town. Missie could have wept when she saw the look of intense disappointment--the look of living pain--that the couple wore as the train moved on without them.

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Then there had been some minor mishaps. One of the Page children had received burns from playing too near a cooking fire; Mr. Weiss, the train's blacksmith, had been kicked by a horse he was attempting to shoe; Mrs. Crane had twisted her ankle badly as she scaled a steep hill in her high-fashion shoes; and a few of the young children were plagued with infected mosquito bites. But, all in all, everyone had adjusted quite well to life on the trail.

The countryside began changing. Missie tried to determine just what it was that made it seem so different--foreign--but it was hard to define. The trees were smaller and different than most of the trees that she had been used to. The hills appeared different, too. Perhaps it was the abundance of short growth that clung to the sides of them. Whatever the difference, Missie realized that she was getting farther and farther away from her old home and those that she loved. The now-familiar feeling of lonesomeness sometimes gnawed and twisted within her. Once in a while she was forced to bite her lip to keep the ready tears from spilling down her cheeks. She must try harder, pray more; and as she walked or worked she repeated over and over to herself the blessed promise of Isaiah. Her greatest ally was busyness, and she tried hard to keep her hands and her mind occupied.

Missie visited Becky often, keeping her promise of introducing her to the midwife, Mrs. Kosensky. Mrs. Kosensky had vetoed John's advice that Becky walk more and cautioned her to be careful about her amount of activity each day. Becky chafed under the restrictions but obeyed the new orders.

Missie also found plenty of opportunity to help Mrs. Collins in the care of her two young children. She often took the baby girl to visit Becky so that Becky might have some experience in the handling of a baby.

Try as she might to keep her thoughts on the adventure ahead, Missie found that she was continually recalling the events of the day as they would be taking place "back home."
Today Mama will be hanging out the wash, all white and shimmerin' in the sun;
or
today Pa will be makin' his weekly trip into town.
Or on Sunday,
the whole family is in the buggy and headin' for the little log church where they will meet and worship with their

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neighbors and Parson Joe.
Her dear Clae's Joe would bring the sermon that would be Amen'ed by all of the people.

And so Missie went through each day; her weary but toughening body traveled with the other pilgrims of the wagon train but her spirit soared "back home" where she shared the days' activities with those that she had left behind.

With surprise one day she realized as she prepared the evening meal that they had been on the trail for almost four weeks. In some ways it had seemed forever; and in others, it seemed not so long at all. But if it had been so long, why hadn't some of her hurting stopped? Time, she had thought, would lessen the pain, erase the burden of loneliness. How much time was required before one began to feel a whole person again?

As Missie's body ached less, it seemed that her spirit ached more. How she missed them--each one of them. How good it would be to feel her mama's warm embrace, or her pa's hand upon her shoulder. How she would welcome the teasing of Clare and Arnie or enjoy watching the growing-up of her younger sister, Ellie. And little Luke in his soft lovableness--how she ached to hug him again. "Oh, dear God," she prayed again and again, "please make me able to bear it."

With all of her strength, Missie fought to keep her feelings from Willie; but in so doing she didn't realize how much of her true self she was withholding from him. She often felt Willie's eyes upon her, studying her face. He fretted over her weariness and continually checked to be sure that she was feeling all right, was not overworking, was eating properly.

The truth was, Missie was not feeling well. Apart from her deep homesickness, there was nausea and general tiredness. But she didn't admit it to Willie.
It's not the right time yet. Willie would just worry,
she kept telling herself. But she sensed--and did not like--the strain that was present between them.

Each day became very much like the others. The LaHayes always rose early. Missie prepared breakfast for Willie and Henry while they checked and watered the animals and prepared them for the new day's travel. They ate, packed up and moved out. At noon they took a short break and Missie again prepared a simple meal.

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When they stopped at the end of the day, there was the fire to start, the meal to be cooked and the cleaning up to be done. Very little fresh food now remained, so Missie began resorting to dried and home-canned foods. She was fast wearying of the limited menu over and over. She wondered if it was as distasteful to Willie and Henry as it was to her. What wouldn't she give to be able to sit down to one of her mother's appetizing meals?

The amount of walking Missie did depended on the terrain and the intensity of the heat. Becky Clay did not attempt to walk far each day. John kindly refrained from prodding her to do more than she felt comfortable doing, coming to the realization that all women were not as hardy as his mother. Becky did welcome time with the other ladies, even though she had to be careful not to overdo.

The travelers began to know one another as individuals, not just faces. For some, this was good. Mrs. Standard and Mrs. Schmidt seemed to accept and enjoy one another more each day. They hoped to be close neighbors when the journey ended.

Kathy Weiss and Tillie Crane also became close friends, though Kathy also spent many hours with Anna, the oldest of the five Standard girls. Anna and Tillie shared no common interest, however, and seemed to have no desire to spend time in one another's company. In turn, Mrs. Standard seemed to enjoy Kathy and embraced her right along with her own recently acquired brood of eight. Missie imagined that Mrs. Standard would have been willing to take in almost anybody.

Henry, too, seemed to be a welcome visitor around the Standard campfire. Missie often wondered if the attraction for him was one of the young girls, or the motherly Mrs. Standard-- Henry was not able to remember his own mother who had died when he was young.

As well as fast friendships among the travelers, there were also a few frictions. Mrs. Thorne still carried herself stiff and straight, never making an effort to seek out anyone's company, or with word or action to invite anyone to share any time with her. There were no neighborly visits over a coffee cup around the Thornes' fire.

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Everyone seemed to avoid the chattering of Mrs. Page; but she had a way of popping up out of nowhere and making it virtually impossible for one to escape without being downright rude. She would have cozied up to a cactus if she had thought that it had ears--yet even Mrs. Page was not willing to share her goodwill with everyone.

Missie never did know what had started it in the first place, but for some reason a deep animosity had grown between Mrs. Page and Mrs. Tuttle. Mrs. Tuttle was a widow, traveling west with her brother. Unlike Mrs. Page, she had very little to say, but what words she used were often acidic.

Mrs. Page had too much to say and she enjoyed elaborating on any subject--including the reason for which Mrs. Tuttle was going west. According to Mrs. Page, a trapper was waiting at the other end of the trail, having made a sort-of proposal by mail. Mrs. Page was sure that the trapper was "trapped"; that if he'd been able to get a good look at Mrs. Tuttle's stern face, he would have preferred a wolverine. So the war waged on.

Most of the battles between them were fought via messengers. "You tell Jessie Tuttle thet iffen she doesn't learn how to crack the ice on thet face of hem, she'll lose thet trapper as soon as she finds 'im."

"You tell Mrs. Page [Jessie Tuttle would not allow herself to use Mrs. Page's first name, Alice] that when she cracked the ice off her own face she did a poor job of it. Now the button fer her mouth don't hold it shut none."

Of course the messengers never did deliver the messages, but it wasn't necessary for them to do so. The insults were always spoken loudly within earshot of the party that they were intended for. The running battle provided no alarm and a small measure of amusement for the other members of the wagon train. There was little enough to smile at, so even a neighborly squabble was welcomed.

Occasionally a meeting of all adult members of the train was called. There, the wagon master gave up-to-date reports on progress, or issued a new order, or explained some new situation. Even such a meeting was looked upon as relief from the usual. Again Mr. Blake called a meeting. He told them he was