Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(7)

Shouts of approval answered him, and he passed Tina the coins. She took Mary and Esther Sue by the hands and headed for the promised treat. Andrew disdained holding hands and marched off on his own. Baby Jane was content to be held in her mother's arms and to put up with the grown-ups while they visited over coffee cups.

When they finally were seated and had placed their orders, the talking did become a bit more orderly. They even waited for one another to finish their sentences before breaking in. Marty knew that her churning stomach had no interest in a sandwich. She ordered a cup of tea and sipped at it now and



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then between her involvement in the talk and laughter. The men ordered sandwiches and even pieces of pie to go with them. Marty wondered fleetingly how they ever managed it, only a few hours since they had downed a big breakfast.

Departure time seemed to be in no hurry to come. The food had been eaten; the cups drained, replenished, and drained again; the same admonitions given and repeated; and the same assurances spoken over and over. Marty fidgeted in her seat. Clark at last said that he supposed they could go on out and check on the progress of the stagecoach.

As they stood chatting before the stagecoach office, Zeke LaHaye, Willie's pa, joined them. He greeted them all with one nod and sweep of his hat, then reached to shake Clark's hand.

"Guess I needn't tell ya how I be a-envyin' ya. Sure would love to head on out with ya. Always had me a-hankerin' to see the west country, an' with my boy out there it sure does git awfully hard to jest hold myself here at home sometimes."

"Well, now," said Clark, "ya jest ought to throw in yer bedroll an' come along."

Zeke answered with a smile. "Sure do be temptin'. Did bring this here little parcel iffen ya be thinkin' thet ya can find a little room fer it someplace. Hate to be a-botherin' ya like, but it jest ain't possible to let ya go without sendin' somethin' along fer my family."

"No trouble. No trouble a'tall," assured Clark and placed the parcel with the growing stack of their belongings.

Marty looked at the big pile of "things" going west. There were all of their own daily necessities, the many things they had packed to take to Willie and Missie, the added articles from Clae and Nandry, the gifts from Ma Graham, Wanda Marshall, Sally Anne, and some from Missie's students during her teaching days. Yes, the pile had grown and grown and, indeed, each additional item meant "more trouble," but she would have no more denied Zeke LaHaye the pleasure of sending something to his family than she would have denied herself. She'd discard her hatbox if necessary in order to make room.



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The stage finally appeared, two minutes early, and all of the baggage and crates were loaded. Zeke's package fit in too, and Marty was able to take even the hatbox.

Over and over the words, "Ya tell Willie . . ." or "Give Missie . . ." or "Kiss them for me" were echoed from their loving family members. Marty turned to each one with tears in her eyes and pounding heart. It was so exciting to finally be on their way; if only "good-byes" didn't need to come before one had the pleasure of "hellos." She kissed Luke one last time, gave Ellie one more hug, threw kisses to the many-timeskissed grandchildren, and hurried forward lest the stage pull away without her.

The good-bye shouts followed them on down the road. Marty leaned from the window for one last wave before the coach turned the corner, and then she settled back against the already warm seat.

"I do declare," she remarked seriously to Clark, "I do believe thet travelin' be awful hard work. I feel all worn out like."

"We've barely started travelin', Marty," Clark laughed softly. "It's not the travelin' thet has ya all tuckered. It's the gettin' ready and the excitement. From now on, ya have nothin' to do but jest rest."

Marty smiled at Clark's calm assessment but looked rather doubtful. How could she ever rest when her whole body vibrated with excited energy? Well, she'd try. She'd try.



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Chapter Four




The City



It seemed to be an awfully long, dusty, warm stagecoach trip to the big city where they would catch the train. At least in their own farm wagon, they could catch the breezes and stop to stretch their legs. The morning sun moved up high in the sky and beat down unmercifully. The open windows helped a little. The other three passengers were men. Clark talked to them some, but Marty had little interest in the conversation. Besides, her mind was on many other things. In spite of the warmth in the stagecoach, Marty knew that a stylish traveling lady did not remove her hat, even in the heat of the day; but how she longed to slip hers from her warm head and let it lay in her lap.

They stopped to change horses and to allow the passengers a few moments to walk around a bit. Marty was glad for the relief. Then on they went again, bumping over the rough tracks of the road. Marty had assumed from looking that the road was rather smooth and rutless; but the stage wheels seemed to find bumps enough.



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At noon hour another rest stop was taken, and Marty crawled stiffly down with Clark's assistance and sought out the shade of some nearby trees. The men scattered in various directions to walk, sit, or stretch out on the cool grass.