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

Just Maybe

Despite the long, exhausting night and how very much Clark would have loved to collapse in a chair and bury his head in his hands, or just go to bed and sleep for hours, there remained chores to be done. The animals had scattered in their fear, and Clark needed to find them and figure out how to get them under shelter. Spring was coming, but the nights were cold.

Fortunately, the pigpens and the chicken coop hadn't been affected, so those animals were safe, but there was little to feed them. He didn't want to dig into his precious seed grain, because that would affect the year's crop and make him less able to care for his family ... but he couldn't let them go hungry, either.

Wearied nearly to the bone, Clark turned his face up to the sky and muttered a prayer, for strength and fortitude and the ability to plan and decide.

Eventually, he managed to eke out enough feed for the pigs and the chickens and the grazing stock. He had to use some of the seed, but not too much just yet. The scattered cows and horses would likely come home when they felt it was safe, or got hungry. He decided to get a hot breakfast before he started chasing the animals. That would be better done on a full stomach.

Even as she set his plate in front of him, Marty was fretting over his cracked lips and his blistered hands, encouraging him to take some time to heal, but of course, they both knew he couldn't afford to do that.

Eventually she decided worrying over him was a lost cause and turned to her own breakfast and helping Missie with hers. Only when the plates were largely empty did Marty turn to him. "What ya plannin' to do?"

He'd been mulling that over as he ate. "First off," he said slowly, "I'm goin' over to Ben's. He said he'd be right glad to take two of the milk cows. He'll feed 'em both in exchange fer the milk from the one thet's still milkin'. When I have me feed again, we'll get 'em back."

"And the rest of the stock?"

"We'll have to be a sellin' the fifteen head in the grazin' pen." He couldn't have them eating them out of this year's crops, and they'd go a long way toward making sure he could buy feed for the other stock.

"An' the hogs?"

"Most of 'em will have to go. I hope to spare me a young sow or two."

"How ya be a feedin' 'em?"

Clark looked at her worried face. She had never asked him much about the day-to-day running of the farm, but he could see now that she had been watching and learning quietly, as was her way. "The seed grain wasn't lost. It's in the bins by the pig lot. I'll have to hold me off plantin' thet new land I'd been a countin' on 'til another year, an' use some of the grain to feed a sow through."

"An' the horses?"

"Horses aire fair good at grazin' even in the winter. They can paw down through the snow. I'll take me a bit of money from the sellin' of the stock to git me enough feed to look to the one milk cow thet we keep."

"Ya got it all figured already." There was admiration in the look she gave him, and trust. He felt a quiet pride in her confidence in him, and it made him feel stronger.

"Not quite all," Clark admitted, "but I been workin' on it. We maybe have to skimp a bit here an' there, but we'll make it. Iffen all goes well, come crop time, we'll be gettin' on our feet agin."

It occurred to him that she might be thinking about the fare back east that he had promised her, that she might be worrying that was no longer something he could afford. But maybe—maybe after everything, after the winter and the birth of young Clare and this terrible accident, maybe she felt differently. Clark thought he owed it to her to let her know he would keep his promise, come what may—and he wanted to give her the chance to tell him she wouldn't go. Just maybe.

He looked at Marty, studying her face, gauging the possibility that she might still change her mind and decide to stay, and then spoke. "When I asked ya to set yerself in here to care fer Missie, I made a promise to ya. I'm not a goin' back on it now." He hesitated, then added, "Tell ya the truth, I would be a missin' ya should ya go, you an' the young'uns—" For a moment, he wanted to tell her how much, tell her everything he had come to feel, but this wasn't the time. "But I'll not be a holdin' ya iffen it's what ya be a wantin'."

She ducked her head so he couldn't read what was on her face or in her eyes, and got up to begin clearing the table.

Well, that was the answer to his unspoken question, then. She wasn't ready to stay. Maybe she never would be. But there was no more time for that now. He had to find the rest of his animals and start hauling stock to town to sell.

Clearing his throat, Clark got up from the table and headed outside to begin the clean-up.