Love's New Beginning (a Love Comes Softly fanfiction)

The Lay-o-the-Land

Clark could hear Missie's tantrum from the barn. He resisted the urge to hurry in and solve the situation. He could tell that Missie was angry, not hurt, and suspected it had to do with the presence of a stranger in her house. Hard for a little mite like that to wake up and find everything different—but she and Marty were going to have to learn how to deal with one another, and there was no time like the present for them to get started.

The situation that presented itself to him when he entered the house was somewhat worse than he had expected. Missie was red in the face, screaming herself hoarse, clutching her clothes to her. Breakfast was begun, he could see, but hadn't gotten very far, and Marty was holding a rag that looked like it was soaked with spilled coffee to one of her fingers as she turned to him from the stove, her eyes sparkling with what looked like anger and which Clark charitably decided to see as a frustration as natural as Missie's.

"She wouldn't let me dress her," she snapped. "Just set up a howlin' fer her pa."

Clark took a breath and let it out again, replying calmly, "I'm afeard a child's memory is pretty short. She already be a fergettin' what it's like to have a mama." He could either step in between Missie and Marty, or he could leave the two of them to work it out together and finish the breakfast. The second option was harder to do now, but would likely work out better in the long run, he decided, and moved toward the cupboard. Missie's sobs had eased when he came inside, and he kept his face carefully turned from her to avoid encouraging her to fresh tears. "She'll jest have to learn thet ya be her mama now an' thet ya be boss. Now ya take her on back to the bedroom an' git her dressed an' I'll take over here."

The room was incredibly warm, the stove overfilled and roaring, and he opened a window to let some of the heat escape, carefully not looking at Marty, either, to avoid encouraging her to argue with him.

Missie screamed afresh and kicked out at Marty, who gathered her up—firmly but gently, Clark could see, despite her own frustrations. He was relieved she was able to control herself.

He focused on finishing the breakfast, trying not to listen for what was happening in the bedroom. Marty would have charge of Missie most of the time while she worked in the house and he in the fields, and they would have to learn how to manage each other. He couldn't step in now, or they never would.

By the time he had everything set out, Marty and Missie had returned from the bedroom. Both had their hair smoothed, and Marty took a cool cloth and wiped down both of their faces before putting Missie in her chair and taking her seat.

He took out the Bible and leafed through. If, as it seemed, she didn't know the Lord or His Word, he wanted to introduce her to a favorite passage, one she might find helpful.

"We read today, Psalm 121. 'I will lift up mine eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help./The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night./The Lord shall preserve thee from evil: he shall preserve thy soul./The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and even for evermore.'" He put the Bible away and bowed his head. "Our God, fer this day an' fer yer blessin's we thank ya. Thank ya, Lord, thet the first hard mile with Missie be travelled, an' help this one who has come to be her new mama. Give us yer strength fer the challenges ahead and yer peace in our hearts. Amen."

Missie murmured her "Amen" as well. Marty sat still, her head bowed, and he wondered what she was thinking even as he was cutting Missie's pancake into small pieces and putting it in front of her.

He wasn't surprised that Marty stayed quiet through the meal. Missie at with a hearty appetite. She usually did, and always seemed extra hungry after a bout of temper like this morning's. At last, Missie pushed her plate away, sighing with contentment. "All done, Pa."

Clark smiled at her. Willful she may be, but she was charming when she wanted to be. "Thet's Pa's big girl."

"See horsies, Pa?"

"Yeah, ya can come see the horsies later, after yer Pa gets some work done."

"Horsies." Missie nodded importantly. "I help."

"Ya sure do," he told her. He got up to get a second cup of coffee, offering the pot to Marty, who shook her head. He resumed his seat, figuring that this morning they might as well get a few things out of the way. To begin with, he told her where to find all the food storage—the cold pit, the root cellar, the smokehouse, the chickens. "When the cold weather comes, we try an' get some wild game; it keeps then. Sometimes we kill us a steer if we think we be a needin' it. There be fish in the crik too. When the work is caught up I sometimes try my hand at loafin' an' fishin'. We're not bad off, really." He hoped she didn't think he was bragging. Mostly, he wanted her to know that whatever she needed, he could provide, and that she shouldn't skimp on his account.

"We have us real good land and the Lord be blessin' it," Clark continued "We've had good crops fer the last four seasons. The herd has built up too and the hogs an' chickens are plentiful enough. All the garden truck thet we can use can be growed right out aside the house an' there's lots of grain in the bins fer seedin'. We has some cash—not much, but enough an' iffen we do be needin' more, we can always sell us a hog. We're better off than a lot of folks, but the neighbors round about here are makin' good too. Seems as how our move to the West has been a good one." He thought about the overworked land on the farms back East, his pa and ma eking out a living on the old farm, selling bits of it off in bad years. He hoped to have more than that to give to Missie when she was old enough.

"Got me some cuttin's a few years back from a man over acros't the crik; an' in a couple of years, if all goes well, we should have some fruit on 'em. The apples might even be a settin' next year, he tells me."

Marty had sat silent through all this, her big brown eyes fixed on his face. He wished she would say something, anything, so he knew what she was thinking. Ellen had been a talker; Missie surely was as well. Something about Marty's silence made him nervous.

But she said nothing, so he got to his point. "I'm a tellin' ya this so's ya be knowin' the lay-o-the-land, so to speak. Ya don't need to apologize fer askin' fer what ya be a needin', both fer yerself and fer Missie." Thinking of that poor little wagon, and the very few salvageable things that had come from it, he knew she was used to living on very little, and he didn't want her to think that was the way it had to be now. "We've never been fancy, but we try an' be proper."

He pushed back his chair, thinking over what he had said. Had he missed anything? Slowly he went through the list, letting her know the milk was plentiful and that she could borrow a horse if she wanted to visit anyone, suggesting Ma Graham, as he thought Ma would be just what this silent, frightened woman needed. Then he explained that most of his work in the fields was done for the season, but that he would be helping at the neighbors' some. It occurred to him that there was a lot in common between Jedd Larsen's wide-eyed silent wife and daughters in their skimpy clothes and Marty's silence. Maybe it did something to a woman, having a man who couldn't provide. He hoped never to see that scared, pinched look on his Missie's face. He wanted to be a better father to her than that.

"I'll be asked to stay to dinner so won't be home 'til chore time. Ya can make yerself to home an' you an' Missie git to know one another like, an' maybe we won't have any more of these early mornin' fusses."

When Marty still didn't move or speak, he turned to Missie, swinging her up in his arms. "Horsies?"

"Yeah, horsies. Ya wanna come with Pa to git ol' Dan an' Charlie?"

She squealed and Clark laughed and hugged her. Thank God for Missie. He didn't know how he would have gone on without her.

Missie cried some more when he returned her to the house, but he resolutely left her there. She'd never learn if he coddled her—and neither would Marty, he reasoned. Still, it was hard to drive away when he wanted to stay and make sure his Missie was well looked after.