Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) (2 page)

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Missie preferred to describe him as "firm." Well, maybe a
little
stubborn, she conceded, if being stubborn was hanging onto a dream--his dream of raising cattle, of working with fine horses, of owning his own ranch, of going further west.

When Willie had made his trip west, alone, to find his spread two years previously, he had persevered through seemingly endless searching and red tape until he actually held in his hand the title deed for the land. When their going had been delayed in order to set aside the money needed for the venture, Willie had chafed, but his dream had not died. He had worked hard at the mill, laying aside every penny that they could spare until he felt sure that they had saved enough. Missie had been proud to add whatever she could from her teacher's salary to make the sum grow more quickly. It gave her a sense of having a part in Willie's dream. It was now becoming her dream, too.

Missie's glance lifted to the sky to figure out the time by the sun. It was somewhere between three and four o'clock, she reasoned.

At home, the time of day was easily distinguished by the activity that was evident. Right now her ma would be taking a break from heavier tasks by spending some time in her favorite chair with mending or knitting. Her pa would still be in the field. They, too, had been so generous in adding to Willie's little nest egg. She thought of the final moments with her parents.

They had been so brave as they had bid her good-byes that morning. Clark had gathered them all close around him and led them in family prayer. Marty had tried desperately not to cry. At Missie's, "It's all right Mama--go ahead and cry, iffen you want to," the tears came; the two held one another close and cried, and they felt some measure of relief and comfort come to their hearts.

Missie now brushed away unbidden tears and glanced about to see if she had been observed. Deliberately she pushed the thoughts of loneliness from her. If she wasn't careful she'd work herself into a real state and go into camp with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. Besides, she had Willie; she need never be
truly
lonesome.

Missie trudged on, placing one tired foot before the other. Even in her sturdy walking shoes, her feet looked small and the

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plain brown cotton frock did not hide the youthfulness of her lithe body. She raised a hand to push away blonde hair that had come untucked and insisted upon wisping about her face. Strands of it clung to the dampness of her moist forehead. Her normally fair cheeks were flushed from the heat of the day. In spite of her homesickness, weariness, and the hot sun overhead, her clear, bright eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and excitement as they swept back and forth in an effort to miss nothing.

Missie's attention was drawn back to her traveling companions. Some of the women were now gathering dry sticks and twigs as they followed the wagons. They had a number of their children running here and there, picking up suitable fuel as well.
They must be anticipating stopping soon,
Missie thought; she too began to look about as she walked, gathering fuel for her own fire.

A commotion ahead brought Missie's attention back to the wagons. The drivers were breaking line and maneuvering into a circle as they had been instructed that morning. Missie's step became lighter. It wouldn't be long now until she would be resting in some shade. How glorious it would be just to sit down for a spell and let the afternoon breeze cool her warm head and body! She was anxious, also, to chat with Willie and see how he had fared in the short time that they had been apart.

Missie wondered, with a fluttering of her pulse, if tonight, by their campfire would be the time to tell Willie about her growing convictions that
perhaps
they were to become parents. She was quite sure now, though she still had not mentioned it to Willie.
Don't want to raise false hopes,
she had told herself.

Would Willie be pleased? She knew how he loved younguns, and she knew his eagerness to have a son of his own; but she could also guess his concern for her. He had hoped to make the trip West and be settled in their own home
before
a family arrived. A long wagon trip could be very difficult for an expectant mother. Yes, Willie
might
feel that the coming baby had picked an inappropriate time to be making an appearance.

Missie had no such misgivings. She was young and healthy and, besides, they would reach Willie's land long before the baby was due. Still, she had to admit to herself that she had put off telling Willie her suspicions until they were actually on the trail.

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She had been somewhat afraid that if he knew, he would have suggested postponing their journey and to Missie's thinking, he had suffered enough delay already.

So she kept her precious secret. She hadn't dared even whisper it to her mother, though her whole being ached to do so.
She'd fret,
Missie told herself.
She'd never rest easy for one night while we were on the trail.

Missie spotted their wagons side-by-side in the big circle. Willie was unhitching the team from their first wagon, and Henry Klein, their hired driver, was working with the second team. It had become evident weeks before, when they had begun to load, that one wagon was not going to be sufficient for living quarters on the way, plus a transport for all their needed supplies. Missie's father, Clark, had suggested the second wagon, and had even helped in locating a driver. Other members of the wagon train also had more than one wagon moving West. Most of them were fortunate enough to have another family member who could drive the teams.

As Missie neared the train, she surveyed the closing circle. The last wagon, the twenty-seventh, moved into position to complete it.

Missie approached Willie now and responded to his grin with a smile of her own.

"Been a long day--yer lookin' tired," he said with concern. "I am a bit--the sun's been so hot, and fer sure it takes the starch outa one."

"It's time fer a good rest. Bit of that shade should revive ya some. Ya wantin' me to bring ya a stool or a blanket from the wagon?"

"I'll do it. You have the team to care for."

"Mr. Blake says there's a stream jest beyond that stand of timber there. We're gonna take all the stock down fer a drink an' then tether them in the draw. Blake says there's grass a-plenty there."

"What time you be wantin' supper?" Missie asked.

"Not fer a couple hours anyway. Ya got plenty of time fer a rest."

"I'll need me more firewood. I didn't start gatherin' soon

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enough. That little bit that I brought in won't last no time."

"No rush fer a fire either. I'll bring some wood back with me. Henry won't mind bringing some, too. Ya jest git a little time outa thet hot sun fer awhile--ya look awfully tuckered out." Willie's voice was anxious.

"It's just the excitement and strangeness of it all, I expect. I'll get used to it. But right now I think I'll take a bit of rest in the shade of those trees. I'll be as good as new when I can get off my feet some."

Willie left with the horses and the two milk cows that had been tied behind the wagons; Missie went for a blanket to throw down on the ground in the shade of the trees.

She felt guilty as she lowered herself onto the blanket. All of the other women already seemed to be busy with something. Well, she'd just rest a short while and then she would busy herself as well. For the moment it felt good just to sit.

Missie leaned back comfortably against the trunk of a tree and closed her eyes, turning her head slightly so that she could take full advantage of the gentle breeze. It teased at the loose strands of her hair and fanned her flushed face. How she ached! All of her bones seemed to cry out for a warm, relaxing soak in a tub. If she were home . . . but Missie quickly put that thought away from her. Her folks' big white house with its homey kitchen and wide stairway was no longer
her
home. The upstairs room with its cheerful rugs and frilly curtains was no longer
her
room. She was totally Willie's responsibility now, and Willie was hers. She prayed a short prayer that she would be worthy of such a man as her Willie--that God would help her to make a home for him that was filled with happiness and love. And then her eyes still closed, she felt the achiness weighing her whole body down on the blanket.

Ignore it,
she commanded herself.
Ignore it, and it will go away.

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Chapter 2

Day's End

When Missie opened her eyes again she was surprised at the changes that had taken place around her. It was much cooler now and the sun that had shone down with such intense heat during the day was now hanging, friendly and placid, low in the western sky.

The smell of woodsmoke was heavy in the air--a sharp, pleasant smell; and the odors of cooking food and boiling coffee made her insides twinge with hunger. Now fully awake, she looked around in embarrassment at the supper preparations. Surely every woman in the whole train had been busy and about while she slept. What must they think of her? Willie would soon be back from caring for the animals--and not even find a fire started!

Missie hurried toward her wagons, swishing out her skirts and smoothing back her hair.

It took a moment for her to realize that the fire that burned directly in front of their wagons was
her
fire, and that the delicious smell of stew and coffee came from
her
own cooking pots.

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She was trying to sort it all out when Willie poked his head out the wagon. His face still showed concern when he looked at her, but changed quickly to a look of relief. "Yer lookin' better. How ya feelin'?"

Missie stammered some, "I'm fine--truly, just fine." Then she added in a lowered voice, "But shamed nigh to death.",

"Shamed?" Willie's voice sounded unnecessarily loud to Missie. " 'Bout what?"

"Well--me sittin' there a-sleepin' in the middle of the day, an' you--you makin' the fire, an' the coffee an'--my goodness--what must they all think of me--that my husband has to do his work an' mine too?"

"Iffen thet's all thet's troublin' ya," Willie responded, "I reckon we can learn to live with it. 'Sides, I didn't make the fire. Henry did. He was mighty anxious fer his supper. Boy, can thet fella eat! We're liable to have to butcher both of those cows jest to feed 'im, long before we reach where we're goin'."

"Henry's eaten?"

"Sure has. I think he even left us a little bit. Seemed in a big hurry to be off. There jest happens to be a couple of young girls travelin' with this train. Think maybe Henry went to aorta get acquainted-like." Willie winked.

"Aren't ya comin' out?" Misie asked when Willie made no move to leave the wagon.

"I'm lookin' fer the bread. Can't find a thing in all these crocks, cans an' boxes. Where'd ya put it, anyway? Henry wolfed down his food without it, but I'd sorta like a bit of bread to go with my supper."

Missie laughed. "Really!" she said, shaking her head, "bet ya near took a bite of it. It's right there, practically under your nose." She clambered into the wagon. "Here, let me get it. Mama sent some of her special tarts for our first night out, too."

As Missie lifted the bread and the butter tarts from the crock in which they had been stored, another tug pulled at her somewhere deep inside. She could envision Marty's flushed face as she bent over her oven, removing the special baking for the young couple that she loved so dearly.

Willie seemed to sense Missie's mood; his arms went round

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her and he pulled her close.

"She'll be missin' you too, long 'bout now," he said softly against her hair.

Missie swallowed hard. "I reckon she will," she whispered.

"Missie?" Willie hesitated. "Are ya sure? It's still not too late to turn back, ya know. Iffen yer in doubt. . . ?" Iffen ya feel--?"

"My goodness, no," Missie said emphatically. "There's not a doubt in my mind at all. I'm lookin' forward to seem' yer land and buildin' a home. You know that! Sure, I'll miss Mama an' Pa an' the family--'specially at first. But I just gotta grow up, that's all. Everyone's gotta grow up
sometime."
How could Willie think that she was so selfish as to deny him his dream?

"Yer sure?"

"I'm sure."

"It won't be an easy trip--you know thet."

"I know."

"An' it won't be easy even after we git there. There's no house yet, no neighbors, no church. You'll miss it all, Missie." "I'll have you."

Willie pulled her back into his arms. "I'm afraid I'm not much to make up fer all thet you're losin'. But I love ya, Missie--I love ya so much."

"Then that's all I need," whispered Missie. "Love is the one thing thet I reckon I jest couldn't do without, so--" she reached up and kissed him on his chin. "As long as you love me, I should make out just fine."

Missie drew back gently from Willie's arms. "We'd better be eatin' that supper you cooked. I'm powerful hungry."

Willie nodded. "But you might change yer mind once you've tasted my cookin'." They both laughed.

After they had finished their meal together and Missie had washed up the few dishes, Willie brought out their Bible. It was carefully wrapped in oiled paper with an inner wrap of soft doeskin.

"Been thinkin'," he said. "Our mornin's are goin' to be short and rushed; it might be easier fer us to have our readin' time at night."

Missie nodded and settled down beside him. It was still light