Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) (15 page)

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"Mama and Pa!" she exclaimed, and to the waiting Mrs. Taylorson: "It's from my folks--they've just acknowledged our message."

Missie smiled through her tears and hurried up the stairs to her room. Once inside, with the door closed behind her, she crushed the blessed message to her breast and fell to her knees beside her bed, the tears falling unashamedly.

"Oh, Mama--Pa--I miss you both so much, and I love you so . . . Oh--if only.. . ."

Missie posted the telegram beneath Willie's Rule Number Twelve. Many times a day she would read it and think of the dear people who had sent it to her.

As the days decreased on Missie's calendar, her pile of sewn articles and knitted things increased. Kathy had come often, and soon progressed to sewing dresses when the curtains and some aprons were finished.

Melinda also had spent evenings with Missie. Her job in the hotel kitchen had been very taxing on her limited strength, so she never was able to stay very late. But she had managed, with her small income, to buy yard goods for three attractive dresses, and sew them for use in the schoolroom. Her days as restaurant cook and dishwasher were over at last, and she was happily employed as the town's new schoolmarm.

Missie twice had called on the preacher and his wife. She not only found their company very refreshing but they also returned each call. Mrs. Taylorson was quite beside herself to have a parson in her parlor.

After Missie had prepared for bed one night, she stood studying her calendar. It was now September 8.

"September 8 is a long way from the second of August," she whispered to herself. "Not halfway yet, but almost--almost." She made a long black mark through the number and went to kneel beside her bed. As she was praying, she heard a gentle rapping on her door. Missie looked up in surprise. She hadn't heard anyone on the stairs.

Then the door opened, and there stood Willie. Paralyzed with shock, Missie remained on her knees and just stared.

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Not one to wait for her bidding, he quickly bent down and whisked her to her feet.

"It's really you!" Missie gasped incredulously. "It's really you!" And then she was in his arms, clinging to him, sobbing into his jacket while he showered kisses on her face and rocked her gently back and forth.

"I jest couldn't stand it anymore," he said huskily. "You came for me?"

"Oh, no," Willie corrected her hurriedly. "Just to
see
you, thet's all. I was jest so lonesome thet Henry finally said, 'Why don't ya jest make yerself a little trip? Ya ain't rightly of much use here anyway. So I did."

"Where's Henry?"

"I left him workin' on the corrals."

Missie laughed then. "Don't know how you ever got away to come here without Henry. Why, he must be near as lonesome as you."

"He did send a couple of letters with me--three, in fact. He sent you one, too."

Missie laughed again.

"Dear ol' Henry--an' he sent
two
others?"

"Yep. One to the Weisses and one to Melinda."

"He's just writing
all
his friends."

"But I want to hear 'bout
you,"
Willie said firmly. "How ya been?"

"Lonesome!" Missie said, threatening to burst into tears again.

"Me, too," Willie replied. "Me too." And he kissed her again. "How long can you stay?"

"Just till day after tomorrow."

"Only one day?" Missie's face crumpled.

Willie nodded. "I gotta git back, Missie. I shouldn'ta come, really. We've got so much to do 'fore winter sets in, but--well, I jest couldn't stay away. I've gotta leave mornin' after next."

"Do you have a house?"

"A temporary one--that's the way most folks do. Then they build later--as they can."

"And the cattle?"

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"Only a few head. We can't really take on too many until we're ready for 'em, an' then ya need men to care for 'em too. After that ya need a bunkhouse to bed the men."

"How many men?"

"Four or five at first."

"Ya mean I'm gonna be cookin' for six or seven men?" Missie was flabbergasted.

"No, silly." Willie pulled her back against him. "The cook does thet in the cookshack."

"You gotta have a cookshack, too?"

"Yeah, an' we hafta git all thet ready this fall."

Missie took his hand and they sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Didn't realize that it took that many men to run a ranch," she said thoughtfully.

"Should rightly have more than that, but I'm gonna try to make do fer the time being'."

"What on earth do they all do?"

"Need shifts fer one thing. Always should be some of 'em out there ridin' herd on things--watchin' the cattle an' watchin' fer trouble."

"Trouble--you mean like wild animals an' such?"

"S'pose wild animals enter into it--but they're not the greatest danger."

"What, then?"

Willie grinned. "Accordin' to what I hear, a rancher's biggest threat comes from
tame animals."

"Meanin'?"

"Rustlers."

"Rustlers?"

"Yep. More than one rancher has been driven from the land--forced to give up an' move on out, because of rustlers." "That's horrible!" Missie exclaimed. "They carry guns?" "Reckon they do," Willie said calmly.

"But what do we do?" Missie would not let the matter drop. "Will you order your men to carry guns?"

"My men don't need those orders. They're used to havin' a gun hangin' from their saddle."

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"But--but, would they
kill
someone?" Missie could hardly force the word out.

"My men have orders never to shoot to kill another human being'," Willie said firmly, "even iffen it means losin' the whole herd."

"Might they do that--the rustlers I mean? Might they take the whole herd?"

"Not usually. They normally just drive off a few at a timepickin' on stragglers, gradually workin' at a herd--especially one that isn't carefully watched. Sometimes their need--or their greed--drives 'em to make a bold move and try fer the entire

lot.
If

"Oh, Willie, what will we do if--"

"Now let's not borrow trouble," Willie said. "We'll hire the men thet we can and protect the herd the best thet we can. Thet's all we can do."

"But how can you afford to pay all those men?"

"'Fraid a cowboy don't make all thet much. Nice fer ranchers, but not so great fer the cowboys. They do git their bed and board and enough money to buy the tobacco and few supplies thet they be needin'. Some even manage to lay a little aside. As to the payin' of 'em, I figured thet in my accounts when I was workin' out what we'd be needin'. When we start sellin' cattle of our own, their wages will come from the sales."

Missie felt relieved to know that Willie had things well under control.

"What else do they do?" she asked, getting back to the cowboys.

"Break horses, build and fix fences, watch fer sickness an' snakes an' varmints. They care for the critters during bad storms an' keep an eye on the pasture and water holes to make sure thet the cows are well cared for. Their main job, though, is to keep the cows grazin' well together so thet there ain't alot of stragglers scattered through the hills--easy victims of prowlin' animals an' rustlers."

"Sounds like a big job to me."

"Is a big job. But most cowboys wouldn't trade it fer any other job in the world."

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"Let's forget cowboys, cookshacks and bunkhouses," Missie interrupted. "Let's think 'bout us for awhile."

Willie agreed as his arm tightened around her.

"Yer lookin' good. Feelin' okay?"

"Oh, Willie!" Missie suddenly burst out, ignoring his question. "I forgot to show you. Look!"

She jumped up and pointed to the telegram on her wall. "Mama and Pa got our message," she continued, "an' they sent one of their own!"

Willie grinned as he stood to read the telegram.

"Makes 'em seem a lot closer-like, don't it?"

Missie nodded.

"This trip made you seem closer, too," said Willie. "Took six days to make it down there by wagon--but I made it in 'bout half the time on horseback."

"You did? Then it's really not so
awful
far, is it?" Missie was comforted.

Willie left as the sun edged over the horizon. He had spent two nights with Missie. She wondered if she could face the dreadful agonies of parting again--but it was not as difficult as she had feared. She struck two more days from her calendar as she went to bed that night. She had completely forgotten it during Willie's visit.

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Chapter 22

The New Baby

Missie was restless. The book that she had attempted to read lay discarded on her pillow. Her sewing projects were completed; she wasn't about to buy more fabric for things that she really could do without. She had run out of yarn, but had no desire to make a trip to the store for more--though certain that she could put it to good use. Maybe a visit to Kathy's . . . no, her heart wasn't in it.

Listless, edgy, and out of sorts, she paced her room--back and forth. Was it the heat, or was she just tired? When it was twelve- thirty,
sharp--time
for the noon meal--she knew that she wasn't hungry. She called down to Mrs. Taylorson that she didn't feel like eating--could she please be excused? She'd just lie down awhile.

She hadn't been down for long when a sudden contraction tightened her abdomen. To her relief, it soon subsided. Missie closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but before she could drop off, another one shuddered through her.

When this passed, Missie sat up and squinted at her home

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made calendar on the wall. "It can't be," she said. "This is only the tenth. You can't come yet, Baby. It just isn't time! It
can't
be!" But Missie soon realized that it was indeed time.

She climbed out of bed and paced for awhile, then lay down, only to get up and pace some more.

What will Willie think? I told him October twenty-fifth--an' he said he'd be here on the twenty-second, just to be sure. Maybe I'm just imaginin', or maybe it's just a false alarm.

But it was not a false alarm. Missie's landlady soon recognized it for what it really was, even though she had never had children of her own. She suggested sending immediately for the doctor, but Missie insisted on waiting. At last Mrs. Taylorson could stand it no more. She sent Mr. Taylorson over for the doctor before the good man could even enjoy his after-supper pipe. To Missie's relief, the doctor was not off tending a gunshot wound or setting a broken bone, and came almost at once.

That night, about 10 o'clock, a son was born to Missie--two weeks early by her calculations. He was not big, but he was healthy and strong. His young mother, who had been repeating over and over, throughout her time of delivery, "Fear thou not, for I am with thee," cried tears of joy at her first sight of him.

After the doctor had gone, and Missie and the baby were bedded for the night, Mrs. Taylorson still waddled about the room, clucking and fussing like a mother hen.

"He's a dandy little wee'un, ain't he? What ya gonna call 'im?"

"I don't know," Missie replied sleepily. "I tried to talk of names with Willie--but he said he'd be here when the baby arrived an' we'd pick a name then."

"But he ain't comin' fer two weeks yet," said the practical Mrs. Taylorson. "Don't seem fittin' thet a child should go fer two whole weeks without a name."

"I know," Missie said, smiling at her son who lay snuggled up against her. "I guess I'll have to name 'im."

"Ya got a name picked?"

"One I like. I just
happened
to marry a man with the same middle name as my pa. Now doesn't it seem fittin' that my son should bear that name?"

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"Deed it do!" Mrs. Taylorson exclaimed. "Yer Willie could hardly fault ya on thet choice. What's the name?"

"Nathan," said Missie. "Nathan." She said it again, savoring the sound of it.

"Nathan?" Mrs. Taylorson repeated. "Rather nice. I like it. I think it even suits the wee package. Nathan--jest Nathan?" "No, Nathan
Isaiah."

"Isaiah?" Mrs. Taylorson looked a bit doubtful on this one, but she made no comment concerning Missie's choice. "Is Isaiah somethin' special, too?"

"It certainly is," Missie said with tears in her eyes. "Very special."

Missie pulled the covers about herself and her small son. She was so happy--and so tired. She kissed the fuzzy top of Nathan's head and let her body relax. She had almost dozed off when a sudden thought hit her.

"Mrs. Taylorson," she said sleepily, "would you be so kind as to have a telegram sent to my folks tomorrow?"

"Certainly, Miss," the woman replied. "What would ya be wantin' it to say?" She then took the paper and pencil from the desk and handed it to Missie. "Better write it down, in case I forget."

Missie thought for a few moments, then began to write slowly: "Nathan Isaiah arrived safely October 10. Love from Missie and Baby." She handed the sheet to Mrs. Taylorson.

"It would pleasure me to be the bearer of such good news."

Missie smiled ruefully at the small bundle snuggled beside her. "If only there was some way to let his pa know. I'm gonna have a powerful hard time waiting for the twenty-second. Why, Willie's son will be nigh grown-up by the time his pa gets to hold 'im!"

Mrs. Taylorson looked down at the tiny bundle on Missie's arm. "Seems to me," she smiled, "a little growin' time ain't gonna hurt the wee fella much. I don't reckon he's gonna outgrow thet little nightie he's a swimmin' in, in jest two weeks' time."

Missie smiled contentedly and let sleep claim her.