Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(13)

Marty suddenly felt hungry. "Anythin' still fittin' to eat in thet there pillow of yourn?"

Clark passed her the lunch. It hadn't suffered much. Ellie had packed it well.

Marty lifted out a box that held sandwiches. "Sure would be glad fer a nice hot cup of tea or coffee," she commented.



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"I think thet I might be able to find some," and Clark left his seat, walked down the aisle and out the swinging door. He was soon back with two steaming mugs of hot coffee. It was too strong for Marty's liking, but it was coffee and it did wash the smoke taste from her throat.

They finished their lunch with a couple of tarts, and Marty carefully repacked the lunch sack.

"Ya know, ya could stretch yer legs a bit iffen ya like to. Seed other women movin"bout some. Little room down thet way."

Marty smiled her thanks and stood up. She couldn't believe how wrinkled her dress looked in just one morning. She tried to smooth the wrinkles out but they stubbornly remained, so she shrugged her shoulders in resignation and moved out into the aisle.

Marty had been vaguely aware of the rock and sway of the train as she sat in her seat, but she had had no idea how decided it was until she took a step forward; the train suddenly seemed to lurch, throwing her off balance. She quickly put out a foot to re-balance herself when the train rolled the other way, leaving her startlingly off-balance again. Each place she went to put her foot was either too high or too low. She felt like a drunken sailor as she wobbled her way down the aisle. At last she gave up trying to make it on her own and firmly grasped the seats as she moved forward. It seemed to be a long walk to the "little room," and by the time Marty had made it back to Clark, she had had enough of train-aisle walking for the time.

The train hooted and chugged, whined and rocked its way westward. Marty viewed more than one sunrise and sunset and was happily content that the train was truly headed in the right direction.

They stopped at small towns to let off or take on passengers. Sometimes the train seemed to sit for a ridiculously long time while train cars were shuffled and shouting men hauled off or on some sort of cargo. At these times Clark and Marty would leave the train and walk, strolling around just to get the



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kinks out of their muscles. On occasion they visited a store to restock their own little food supply. Often it was no cooler out on the station platform than it had been in the stuffy coach, but at least it was a bit of relief from the cramped position. Marty began to wonder if it really would have been much more difficult to cover the miles in a jolting covered wagon.

The landscape around them changed with each passing day. Trees were fewer in number, often forlornly clumped together by a meandering stream. The towns, sometimes no more than a few scattered houses, were now even farther apart than before. On the third day, they rolled into a town that Clark announced was the place where they would transfer to the other train. Marty was not reluctant to make the change. She had no ties to this present train or its passengers. She had found very little in common with their fellow travelers. Those few whom she had become acquainted with had all seemed to get off at earlier stops except for one middle-aged lady in a dove-gray gown and hat. Mrs. Swanson was heading west to live with her son, her husband having died recently. Marty thought that it was spunky of the little woman to make such a life-changing move all alone.

Clark had visited with several of the men on the train, attempting to learn all that he could about the West before arriving at his son-in-law's ranch. He did not wish to appear to the ranch hands as another "ignorant fella from the East."

When they arrived at their point of transfer and the train dismissed its passengers, Clark and Marty made their way across the rough platform. People milled about and called to one another, but as there would be no one in this town that they knew, they kept their attention on the task of finding their way from the station to a suitable lodging.

Informed that a hotel was just down the street within easy walking distance, they set out. When Clark requested a room from the man at the reception desk, he was told that a room was available; but Marty was shocked when she heard him name the price. Clark did not argue with him but counted out the bills from the small roll he carried in his pocket.

They climbed the worn, carpeted stairs and found their



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room number on a door. Marty looked about her, her eyes widening at the sight that confronted them on opening the door. The room was almost bare, except for a good measure of dirt and dust, and the bed looked as though the sheets and pillows had been used by at least one other occupant--maybe more. Marty had little objection to sparse furnishings, but filth was another matter.

Clark noticed the sad state of the room, too. Marty could see him eying the muddy boot prints on the floor and the soiled pillows strewn on the bed. But he made no remark.

"I think thet I'll take a little walk an' sorta check out the town. Ya wantin' to come along, or do you wanna jest rest a bit?" asked Clark.

A walk did sound appealing, yet from what Marty had so far seen of the town, she was not so sure she wanted to walk in

"I think thet I'll jest rest me here fer a bit. I'll see the town when we go out to git our supper," she answered.

Clark took his hat and left.

Marty didn't know what to do with herself after Clark had gone. She wished for a pail of hot, soapy water and a good scrub brush. The place looked like it could do with a good washing.