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

Our Hour of Need

On the night that baby Clare turned one month old, Clark was awakened by an odd feeling that something wasn't right. He lay listening to the sounds of the night, cataloging them. The horses. Something had frightened the horses. Getting up, pulling on his pants quickly, he went out into the sitting room. He could see the glow through the windows immediately. The barn was on fire.

For a moment he stared at the burning barn in disbelief. How could that have happened? Then he came to his senses. It didn't matter how, it only mattered that it was happening, and he had to get out there and salvage what he could.

Quickly he pulled on the rest of his clothes. On his way out, he stopped in Marty's room, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to waken her and tell her what was happening so she wouldn't be afraid if she woke suddenly. "Ya jest stay put," he told her. "I'm goin' fer the stock."

He hastily wet a towel and threw it over his head. Then he ran for it. He took a deep breath before he plunged into the smoky barn. On his way across the icy yard he had made the plan, and now he executed it. One stall door open, the horse sensing the cool clean air of the night through the open barn door and bolting for it. Then the next, the second horse following the first. He was glad to know they were safe—Dan and Charlie were good horses, and it would have broken his heart to have lost them in this terrifying and painful way.

After that, the saddle horse, and then the milk cows, one after another. One or two cowered frightened in their stalls, but as soon as they saw the others on the move, they followed.

The smoke was growing thicker. Even the towel wasn't keeping it out, and it was becoming harder to breathe. Clark felt dizzy and light-headed, coughing against the thickness and heat of the smoky air. But he only had a few minutes to salvage what he could before the whole barn went; he couldn't afford to stop now. Quickly he grabbed as much of the tack as he could reach, more than he could probably carry, and staggered for the door. Once he was out of the barn, he snatched the towel off his head and breathed in great gulps of the clean air.

Even as he leaned against the fence, the first teams turned into his yard. One of the neighbors had seen the smoke, and the alarm had spread. Men left their teams and came to help, fighting with snow and water to cover the other buildings to keep the fire from spreading. Womenfolk headed for the house. Marty could use the help, he imagined, and then he was back in the thick of it, trying to save everything he had worked so hard to build, thanking God as he went for good neighbors and for waking him in time to save the animals.

When the morning came, the barn was gone, lying in smoldering ruins, but the fire was out and the rest of the buildings were safe. Marty and the children would still have a snug house over their heads against the cold. Clark took the cup of steaming coffee someone had handed him—not as good as Marty's, he could tell from the first fortifying gulp, but hot and strong.

As quickly as they had arrived, the neighbors left, anxious to be home and out of their cold clothes, with busy days ahead of all of them. No sooner had they all gone and Clark thought gratefully of going inside and holding his family close, when Jedd Larson turned into the yard, late as always.

Clark forced himself to be neighborly, to share out the coffee and sandwiches, but he was tired nearly beyond endurance.

It startled him to see Marty come out of the house, her shawl thrown over her head, and see her march up to Jedd. "Mr. Larson," she said, polite as possible, but with a chill in her voice that said she was holding in her temper as best she could. "Right good of ya to be comin' over to give us a hand. Guess things be under control like now, thanks to all our fine neighbors. Have ya had coffee? Good! I'm sorry to be interruptin' like, but right now I'm afeared thet my husband be needed indoors—iffen ya be excusin' him."

Clark felt a nearly physical jolt of surprise. She had never referred to him as her husband before. It sounded—nice. Like he had a true mate and partner to lean on. She was small, but she could carry a lot on her shoulders, he had learned that about her.

At a firm glance from Marty, Clark muttered a thanks to Jedd and went inside the house. All seemed peaceful—Missie was still asleep, having slept through the entire night's events, and baby Clare lay in his crib contentedly sucking his fist. Clark trailed a finger over the baby's soft cheek.

When Marty came in, he looked at her in confusion. "Who be a needin' me?"

To his surprise, she turned away, and he could see her shoulders shaking as she wept. Without thinking, he went to her, turning her gently around to him and taking her in his arms, stroking her hair as he had wanted to do so many times. It was soft and warm under his cold, rough hands, and he felt comforted standing like this with her.

At last the weeping ended. She had never let him see her cry before, and she seemed uncomfortable that he had seen it now, pulling away from him and drying her face with her apron. "Oh, Clark, what aire we gonna do now?"

The answer was sure inside him, strengthened by the familiar peace and warmth of their home. "Well, we aire gonna pray, an' what He sees us to be a needin', He'll give; an' what he sees we don't need, He'll make us able to do without."

She looked at him for a moment, letting his words flow over her, and then she nodded. Together, they bowed their heads.

"Dear God, ya be a seein' our needs better than we do, an' ya be a knowin' the struggles that lie afore us. Be with us now in our hour of need, give us the strength to do the work and the faith to see Your hand in this. Thank ya fer the lives of our stock, the dumb animals who ya trust us to care fer, and fer the safety of our home and our family. Amen."

"Amen," Marty echoed.