Christmas and Grandpop

Howdy Folks,

This is the Seventh in my series of Grandpop stories. I began writing about Grandpop, June 27, 2013, with what at the time I imagined what would be a standalone short story, "Perhaps I've Just Lived Too Long." You can read that story (and find links to go on) (HERE)   Folks said they enjoy visiting with Grandpop, so I wrote more. Frankly, I enjoy him too. I hope you enjoy this Christmas with Grandpop.

Christmas and Grandpop

He leaned in his rocker to jab at a log in the fireplace, sending sparks and crackles up the flue. His gnarled fingers held his poker with a deftness of years of hard work. His wry grin, born of years of teasing his wife. "She'd always scold me whenever I did that.'You'll set the chimney on fire, she'd say' She's right ya know. I shouldn't do it. But ain't it pretty?" He rocked back, I watched him watch the sparks, then close his eyes. The flames yellow glow danced on his weathered face. His grin faded to a peaceful smile. He was remembering her.

They'd shared a lifetime together, even though hers ended long before he was ready.

"I reckon everybody'll be rollin' in just after daybreak, tomorrow." He didn't open his eyes or allow the smile to fade. "Son, I ever tell ya about your mom and my first Christmas together?" Of course he had, and lately he'd tell me every Christmas Eve. I'd been spending more time here at the ranch the past few years, and always made sure to get here by noon Christmas Eve. My brother and his wife, and their two boys had taken over the reins of running the outfit years earlier, and had built a new house where we gather now for holidays. But I liked sitting with Granpop, everyone started calling him that when my brother's first son was born, here in the old house on Christmas Eve.

He tapped his fingers on the rocker arm. "I suppose it's more than 70 years ago now. Just got home from the war, I was cowboyin' for the Hartwell spread." He sat upright, focused deep in my eyes. "Boy howdy, it had been a hot dry summer. We'd lost half the herd in a range fire. Just awful." He shook his head and poked the fire.

"Winter had come at us just as hard. By Thanksgiving we had twenty inches of snow. Poor cows were walkin' with the wind looking for frozen grass where the wind blew the snow clear. Most places it was too deep for 'em to scratch through. We were scattering hay cubes every day just to keep them poor critters alive. We had to tie rails on the wheels so the teams could drag the wagon through the snow.

"We were headin' back in on Christmas Eve, ol' Slim and me. We were plumb wore out. So were the horses. Dang cows had found a hollow to hole up in some ten miles from the ranch and it was mighty tough goin'." Granpop broke into a laugh. "Ol' Slim had himself all wrapped up in the tarp bellyaching he didn't have enough meat on his bones to take this cold weather. I was drivin', mostly lettin' the horses pick their way home, when all of a sudden they just stopped and stared off into the blowing snow.

"First I figured it was a bunch of cows or horses seekin' shelter, and I tried to hurry the team on. Then, squintin' into the stinging snow I saw this tiny black spec, movin' towards us. After a bit I could make out what was a rider. A rider and a pack horse. Out in this? I was sure it was a crazy person, or a desperate one.

"I steered the team to intercept." Grandpop paused, pointed a finger my way. "This was no weather to be out in, and it was only an hour 'til dark.

"It seemed the rider wanted to meet up with us too, for it changed its headin' and angled right for us. I rousted Slim from his nest; the wind grabbed his tarp and tried its best to blow him airborne!

"The rider stopped beside us. The pack horse had a good jag of firewood strapped to it. All bundled and covered I couldn't make out if it was even a human settin' that horse, imagine my surprise when a woman's voice floated out from under all that snow and blanket! – 'Hey, are you clean outa your mind?' was the first words I ever said to her … " He poked the fire again, sucked in a breath.

"She wasn't outa her mind, no sir. Never once, not a single time in all the years …" He dragged the back of his hand over his eyes. "Always thinking of others, that was her way …

"She moved her horse close, asked who we were, then told us her story. Seemed a farmer's wife had just had a younin' and he'd come to her Daddy's place for fuel and supplies. I knew then she was that sweet little brunette at the mercantile in town who was all hidden under those blankets. What in tarnation are you doin' out in this? I remember scoldin' her. She explained the firewood, ham and flour had to get to the fella's farm. He had cut his leg bad while splitting extra wood for her Daddy to offset the bill, and nobody else was around to make the journey.

"Ol' Slim and I weren't about to let this young gal out there alone, so we turned our tired team around and shepherded her all the way to the farm. As I recall it was a dandy spread." Grandpop paused and pretended to pick his teeth. "Slim went out to the barn and milked the cows, I stacked the firewood inside and made sure that fireplace and woodstove were ready for cookin' up a humdinger of a Christmas Eve feast, which that cute brunette cooked up. And by golly did we feast! Way into the night, we ate and talked and ate some more. And boy howdy could that little gal make swell coffee, too!

"The next mornin', Christmas Day, the storm broke, and I sent ol' Slim back with the team. I just had to stay behind and see all was well with the new baby, his momma and help that mercantile fella's daughter with all the work there." Grandpop settled back in the rocker, his eyes resting on momma's picture above the mantle. "Christmas was sure enough her time," he whispered.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

If you'd like to read the Sixth story "Veterans Day Ride With Grandpop"CLICK HERE

"Greatest Gift"

Howdy Folks,

Robbie and I sat about in the middle of the sanctuary holding hands as the Minister opened his sermon with a prayer. Christmas Eve candlelight services is one of Robbie's most favorite things, and we'd gone with friends to their church.  It was a wonderful service filled with the Christmas Spirit, communing with friends, and Robbie's delight, circling the sanctuary singing the comforting and familiar Christmas hymns. 

The thyme for service was the gifts, gift giving and the Greatest Gift Of All, the gift of our Savior, Jesus Christ. As the Minister explained,  the most valuable gift ever given, and it was given free. His sermon compared the perceived value of the gifts we share with each other, the money they cost us to purchase and what they might mean to the giver, and the recipient. He had a few appropriate jokes and personal experiences about gifts that missed the mark, and stories of gifts that were just right.

But woven in the tapestry of his sermon was this line, "The only animal in the world that can give a gift is man," which caught me off guard and I must say disappointed me. Not only did he include that thought, but he went to some length to explain how it is true. I was greatly disappointed in that opinion, and the fact he felt the need to insert it in his Christmas message, for as far as I could tell, it added nothing to the central fact of the story that Jesus Christ IS the greatest gift ever given.

I wondered as he spoke had he never felt the warmth of a cat curled on his lap on a chilly evening? Had he not once been greeted at the door upon his arrival home by a dog's eager face, wagging tail and bouncing dance? Had he never seen the pictures of service men and women greeted by absolutely ecstatic dogs nearly smothering them as the arrived home after a long deployment? I wonder if he'd never sat with children, looking out a window on a cold snowy day watching birds at the feeder display their beauty, and making the children giggle at their silly antics.

He surely never stood by a horse, soaking up its giving spirit, with his face buried deep in its mane as tears streamed down his cheeks. I can believe he's never been to a Therapeutic Riding Center and watched as a young girl, dealing with the weight of Spina Bifada, discovered she could indeed sit tall and smile wide. Or watched as a battered woman regained confidence while riding a horse, who knew the precious cargo it carried and made sure to keep her safe.

I agree the most valuable gift ever given was Jesus Christ … but I also know God gave all beings the ability and desire to give gifts. And I thank God for that … For the best gifts of all, in any season, are the gifts of love, healing and comfort … And I believe animals have a most special talent for giving that.

God Bless

Dutch Henry

"A Christmas Story – Part 2"

Howdy Folks, 

 

I wanted to share something with all our friends for Christmas, so I wrote a Christmas story. Merry Christmas everyone and God Bless. Robbie, Kessy, Saturday, Sweetness, Zoe, Miss Kitty, Tigger and I send prayers and wishes that this may be the happiest of Christmas days for you and your loved ones and folks all over the world.

(If you missed Part 1 please read yesterday's post first)

"A Christmas Story"  by Dutch Henry - Part 2

Only two cows in milk right now, so milking didn't take very long, or give even half a pail. Clover, the youngest was due to calve any day, and her milk would surely be welcome. Milking finished and still no sign of Jed, Sarah checked on Jessica all snug in her nest of hay, then busied herself giving hay to the cows and horse. The chickens hardly stirred, few even pulled their heads from under their wings.

Worry kept her busy. Finished the feeding Sarah found cloth and strained the milk, a job usually done on the tiny table in the cabin, but she dreaded the trip back through the wind and biting ice crystals, so she did it right there in the barn. Besides, somehow the barn seemed a better place to be tonight, Christmas Eve. Her mind though kept busy fretting over Jed. Was he lying in the bitter cold somewhere, hurt? Or worse? She began to build a plan to go search the vast openness that lay between them and the orphanage. That would have to wait for daylight. But wouldn't his horse have found its way back to the barn? Jed's horse, Scout was a big, powerful horse and very smart. Surely had something happened to Jed, Scout would have come home?

Nervously she nursed baby Jessica, to the unsettling sound of relentlessly raging wind tearing at the walls of the barn. Gathering Jessica she moved closer to the cows so the sounds of them peacefully chewing might sooth her worried heart. She nestled into the straw next to Clover and rocked gently. The barn was a peaceful place but tonight even its warmth and embrace could do little to sooth her. 

The ride to the orphanage and back, even with a first class Christmas party should only have taken Jed and Scout about six hours. He should have been home well before dark.

Weary with worry, Sarah hugged tiny Jessica and squirmed deeper into the straw.

 Her horse pacing and nickering in its stall roused her. "It's okay, Goldie, the wind can't get us in here." Knowing she must check the fire and the stew in the house, she carefully tucked tiny Jessica safely back in her nest of hay. "I'll be right back, you sleep tight." She kissed her cheek, and wiped a tear from her own. Turning to the cows and Goldie she said, "You all watch over her while I'm gone."

She snatched the lantern from its peg and made the dash from barn to cabin, the never-ending, awful wind at her back. Inside she found the fire nearly out, but the chicken stew still delightfully warm. Building the fire back up, stirring the stew and gathering another blanket to swaddle around Jessica took only moments, and through the bitter, blinding darkness she ran for the barn, shielding her face from stinging snow.

Fighting the wind to pull closed the heavy barn door, for an instant the wind's roar was blocked. Was that a bell? Did she hear ringing bells? Or were her ears simply ringing in the wail of the wind? She strained her eyes in the direction of what she imagined was the ringing bells. Is that a light? Could that be a light? But what could there be out there moving in this horrible wind? It didn't appear to be a horse and rider. Her hopes sank as quickly as they'd soared. The bells stopped and the light vanished. Sarah pulled tight the door, made fast the latch, then hurried to Jessica to add the extra blanket.

Clover mooed, Goldie stomped and whinnied. Before Sarah could react, from the outside, above the wind, came an answering whinny.  "Scout? … " Sarah yelled, tears streaming her face. Terrified of the possible answer she yelled, "Scout, is that you? Is Jed with you?" Bells, did she hear bells again? With wings on her feet she flew to the door, only to have the latch yanked from her grasp.

Stunned she starred into the darkness, and there stood Jed flashing an ice covered smile as wide as the mountains themselves. Behind Scout were two horses harnessed to a wagon with canvas stretched over it. "Brought ya a few Christmas visitors Sarah!" Jed waved a hand toward the wagon. Sarah's knees melted, she crumbled to the ground.

"Hey now," Jed scooped her up with a hearty laugh. "We can't have this, we have us a Christmas Eve party to put on for the young 'ins!"

Jed, Shorty and Jake fought the wind to swing open the big barn door, Martha led Scout and the team right into the barn. Every hand worked together to pull the door closed behind the wagon. Martha flipped down the wagon tail gate, and one by one the children slid out, giggling and laughing.

Sarah's knees went weak again, she grabbed onto Jed. He could see the love, relief and questions in her eyes.

"Well," Jed started, "When I rode up to Martha's the wind already yanked the roof off that old shed they use for a home. Jake, Shorty and me didn't take too long to figure out there was no fixin' that rickety old building. Nobody knew what to do next, not only did they all need a place to live, but heck Sarah, this is Christmas Eve and we got songs to sing and presents to open … so we hatched a plan to stretch this canvas over the wagon, nail 'er down with boards and haul the entire outfit right here."

With a grin and tip of his hat, Shorty yanked the sack of presents from the wagon seat, held it high and danced a little jig. "Merry Christmas!"

The children had settled down in a circle holding hands, except for little Jane, who had discovered baby Jessica. "Look Miss Martha, it's just like the story of baby Jesus, lying in the manger with all his friends in the barn."

God Bless and Merry Christmas ~ Dutch Henry

"A CHRISTMAS STORY"

Howdy Folks, 

 

I wanted to share something with all our friends for Christmas, so I wrote a Christmas story. Merry Christmas everyone and God Bless.

"A CHRISTMAS STORY" by Dutch Henry - Part 1.

With a piece of kindling, Sarah scratched ice from inside the lone cabin window. Cupping hands against her face she was able to squint through the tiny pane to see the blowing, swirling snow outside. Nothing new to see, except the darkness moving in. She shook her head, "Can't even see the barn now."

If he wasn't getting home tonight, and her hopes were fading as her worries mounted, she'd better bundle up and tend the animals in the barn. Jed had been sure to load the wood box before leaving . Load the box? She smiled at the heavily laden box with wood stacked halfway up the wall. "Wood enough for a week," she remembered him assuring her, even though he was planning on being gone only a day. 

This would be the first Christmas Eve visit to the orphanage she'd missed since they'd wed three years ago. But this year, with a month old daughter of their own, and the threatening skies, Sarah thought it best Jed make the ten mile ride without them. So he'd set out in the shadows of early morning alone.

She bent over the black kettle filled nearly to the brim with simmering chicken stew. Stirred it thoroughly and swung the black arm out from the fire to hold the kettle just near enough to the hot coals and gentle flames to keep the stew at the perfect temperature. She'd have a Christmas feast waiting for him when he returned.

The orphanage sat way outside of town, on a little farm well off the beaten path. Out of sight. Out of mind. Run by old widow Martha Bowman, and two old broken down ex-cow pokes, Jake and Shorty. Jed had grown up there. "Poor kids," Jed had told her once, "not only don't they have families of their own, but most town folks don't even want to see 'em. They'd just as soon forget 'em."

Jed never forgot them. Each Christmas he'd visit and carry a feed sack of toys to share with the children, usually numbering around ten. Toy horses, he'd whittle, a fishing pole or two, and dolls Sara would sew. Of course a few knitted scarves and mittens too.

Not being able to see the children this Christmas Eve had Sarah's heart a little heavy. She'd grown so used to the singing, laughing and playing. And the happy faces. Even the old cow pokes would join right in and sing along. Jed had a way of really throwing a lively Christmas Eve party.                                            

Sarah tended to the fireplace, wrapped the baby in their warmest blanket, grabbed the milk pail, the coal oil lantern and started for the door. Forcing the door into the wind took all her strength. The gale hit her full on, slamming the door shut behind her, nearly sucking the very breath from her lungs. Leaning low she sheltered the baby, pushed into the wind and hurried for the safety of the barn. Tiny frozen flakes pelting her cheeks like stinging bees. It was a journey of only fifty feet, but tonight it seemed a mile. The snow wasn't deep, but the wind halted her every step.

Full hands made sliding the barn door latch nearly impossible. She could set nothing down for fear it blow away. Struggling with an elbow and the back of her hand she managed to pull back the thick metal latch. Immediately the wind ripped the door from her grasp slamming it wide open. She hurried to the far corner, past the cows, the horse and chicken coop.

Inside was a different world. Jed had labored a full summer four years ago to build the barn out of logs instead of boards. "Harder to be burnt out that way," he'd explained.  They'd lived in the barn a full year after that, while together they finished their one room cabin. She settled the baby snugly in a bed of hay. "There now," Sarah soothed the sweet girl, "you sleep easy, Jessica, while I milk the cows, and I'll bet Daddy will be home before I'm through."

She battled the raging wind to pull shut and latch the heavy door, hung the lantern on its peg in the center of the barn and paused a moment to look around. Three cows and a horse make plenty of heat inside a barn as snug as this one. The wind howled and raged but could find no way in. She settled down on the milking stool and started milking the first cow.

Snug as they were in the sturdy barn, her mind was on Jed. The first streams of milk rang out on the pail side. She tried to time the ringing sound of milk hitting the metal bucket to "Silent Night" as she squeezed in time to the hymn she hummed.

"Why isn't Jed home yet?" Is all she could think.

I'll post Part 2 tomorrow on Christmas Day ~ Merry Christmas ~ Dutch Henry