she had heard him laugh. She liked it, but she couldn't figure out the reason for it. He soon filled her in.
"I be thinkin' thet ya don't really know even thet," he said. "Her real name be Melissa-- Melissa Ann Davis."
"Thet's a pretty name," Marty said. "I don't be goin' by my real name either. My real name be Martha, but I don't much like it. All my family an' friends called me Marty, 'cept my ma when she was mad. Then it was Martha, real loud like. Martha Lucinda-- " She nearly finished it with Claridge but caught herself in time.
"But tell me 'bout Missie."
"Well, Missie be born on November third, two years ago. 'bout four o'clock in the mornin'."
Clark's face became very thoughtful as he reflected back. Marty remembered Ma telling of the great excitement that
89
Missie had caused. Clark went on.
"She weren't much of a bundle, seemed to me, an' she was rather red an' wrinkled, an' had a good head of dark hair. She seemed to grow fast an' change a lot right from the start, an' afore ya knowed it she was a cooin' an' smilin'. By Christmas time she was most givin' the orders round here it seemed. She was a good baby as babies go an' slept through the night by the time she was three months old. I thought I'd picked me a real winner. Then at five months she started to cut her teeth. She turned from a sweet contented, smilin' darlin' into a real bearcat. Lucky fer us, it didn't last fer too long, though at the time it seemed ferever. Anyway, she made it through. So did we, an' things quieted down agin.
"When she had her first birthday, she could already say some words. Seemed right bright for a little tyke, an' al'ays from as far back as I can remember she loved pretty things. Guess thet's why she took so to the little whatever it be thet ya sewed fer her.
"Started walkin"fore her first birthday an' was soon climbin' to match it. Boy, how she did git around! One day I found her on the corral fence, top rail, when she be jest a wee'un. Got up there an' couldn't git down. Hangin' on fer dear life she was.
"She was gettin' to be a right good visitor, too. A lot of company she was. Chattered all the time an' more an' more there was gettin' to be some sense to it.
"One day she came in with a flower. Thrilled to pieces with it she was. Picked it right off the rose bush. The thorns had pricked her tiny fingers an' they was a bleedin'. But she never paid them no mind at all, so determined she be to take the 'pretty' to her mama. Thet flower is pressed in her mama's Bible."
Clark stopped and sat looking at his coffee cup. Marty saw him swallow and his lips move as though he meant to go on, but no sound came.
"Ya don't need to tell me anymore," she said quietly. "I know enough to be able to tell young Missie somethin"bout her young days."
She searched for words and found that any that she could
90
bring to mind seemed inadequate, but she stumbled on.
"I know how painful it be-- to remember, an' anyway when the day comes thet young Missie need hear the story of her mama-- an' she should hear it, to be sure-- but when thet day comes, it's her pa thet she should be a hearin' it from."
Marty rose from the table then so that Clark need not fear that he was expected to say more. Slowly he finished his coffee and she set to work getting her water ready to wash the dishes.
The day was almost crisp in its coolness, but Clark announced that he planned to see how much sod he could get turned on the land he was claiming for spring planting. Marty hoped that the weather would hold, not just so that he could finish the planned plowing but also so that he would be busy away from the house.
The days of the week went by slowly. Sometimes they went too slowly for Marty, but she was relieved that there was always work with which to fill them. What with washing, cleaning, bread-baking, and meal getting, she seemed to even have to look for time in which to do Missie's sewing. Little garments did take shape under her capable hands,
"I be thinkin' thet ya don't really know even thet," he said. "Her real name be Melissa-- Melissa Ann Davis."
"Thet's a pretty name," Marty said. "I don't be goin' by my real name either. My real name be Martha, but I don't much like it. All my family an' friends called me Marty, 'cept my ma when she was mad. Then it was Martha, real loud like. Martha Lucinda-- " She nearly finished it with Claridge but caught herself in time.
"But tell me 'bout Missie."
"Well, Missie be born on November third, two years ago. 'bout four o'clock in the mornin'."
Clark's face became very thoughtful as he reflected back. Marty remembered Ma telling of the great excitement that
89
Missie had caused. Clark went on.
"She weren't much of a bundle, seemed to me, an' she was rather red an' wrinkled, an' had a good head of dark hair. She seemed to grow fast an' change a lot right from the start, an' afore ya knowed it she was a cooin' an' smilin'. By Christmas time she was most givin' the orders round here it seemed. She was a good baby as babies go an' slept through the night by the time she was three months old. I thought I'd picked me a real winner. Then at five months she started to cut her teeth. She turned from a sweet contented, smilin' darlin' into a real bearcat. Lucky fer us, it didn't last fer too long, though at the time it seemed ferever. Anyway, she made it through. So did we, an' things quieted down agin.
"When she had her first birthday, she could already say some words. Seemed right bright for a little tyke, an' al'ays from as far back as I can remember she loved pretty things. Guess thet's why she took so to the little whatever it be thet ya sewed fer her.
"Started walkin"fore her first birthday an' was soon climbin' to match it. Boy, how she did git around! One day I found her on the corral fence, top rail, when she be jest a wee'un. Got up there an' couldn't git down. Hangin' on fer dear life she was.
"She was gettin' to be a right good visitor, too. A lot of company she was. Chattered all the time an' more an' more there was gettin' to be some sense to it.
"One day she came in with a flower. Thrilled to pieces with it she was. Picked it right off the rose bush. The thorns had pricked her tiny fingers an' they was a bleedin'. But she never paid them no mind at all, so determined she be to take the 'pretty' to her mama. Thet flower is pressed in her mama's Bible."
Clark stopped and sat looking at his coffee cup. Marty saw him swallow and his lips move as though he meant to go on, but no sound came.
"Ya don't need to tell me anymore," she said quietly. "I know enough to be able to tell young Missie somethin"bout her young days."
She searched for words and found that any that she could
90
bring to mind seemed inadequate, but she stumbled on.
"I know how painful it be-- to remember, an' anyway when the day comes thet young Missie need hear the story of her mama-- an' she should hear it, to be sure-- but when thet day comes, it's her pa thet she should be a hearin' it from."
Marty rose from the table then so that Clark need not fear that he was expected to say more. Slowly he finished his coffee and she set to work getting her water ready to wash the dishes.
The day was almost crisp in its coolness, but Clark announced that he planned to see how much sod he could get turned on the land he was claiming for spring planting. Marty hoped that the weather would hold, not just so that he could finish the planned plowing but also so that he would be busy away from the house.
The days of the week went by slowly. Sometimes they went too slowly for Marty, but she was relieved that there was always work with which to fill them. What with washing, cleaning, bread-baking, and meal getting, she seemed to even have to look for time in which to do Missie's sewing. Little garments did take shape under her capable hands,
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