As Leona started to pull the canvas holding her unconscious father toward the undercarriage of the wagon, her foot hit something hard. She turned to see a two-foot long, eight-inch diameter, birch log lying just in back of the front wheel. It was partially dislodged from the snow and some of its bark had been recently scraped off, exposing its yellow-white wood. That’s when she realized just what it was the wagon had hit. Although its black-streaked bark now made the log highly visible, before, when it lay there covered with snow, it blended into the road so well that it would have been hard to see in the best of visibility conditions, but with the severe wintry conditions that existed now, seeing it was next to impossible, even if it hadn’t been covered.
Leona moved the log aside and was thankful that the slippery snow-covered ground enabled her to drag the brown canvas holding her injured father underneath the wagon where he would be protected from the falling snow. After he was safely under the wagon, Leona brushed snow off his clothes and off the canvas. Then she climbed onto the wagon again, this time to fetch two heavy woolen blankets that Margaret also made her husband carry with him during the winter.
Leona held the dry blankets close to her chest, preventing the snow from getting them wet, and gently wrapped them around her father. Then she carefully pulled the canvas around those, exposing only her father’s mouth to the cold air. The increasingly strong, gusty wind was trying as hard as it could to blow the brown canvas off Murdock, so the resourceful girl rotated Murdock around so the wind was at his back and was now helping to keep the canvas on him; then she picked up two nearby rocks and the heavy log that caused her father’s dilemma, placing them on the edge of the canvas to keep even the strongest of winds from dislodging the blankets.
“That should do it,” she told herself.
After being thoroughly satisfied that her injured father was adequately protected from the snow and the biting cold weather, Leona untied Prince from the tree and led him to the side of the wagon. She then climbed onto the wagon and was able to easily mount the horse. She said “giddy-yup” and quickly rode off to get help.
Chapter 41
The Stranger
Although Leona had been on Prince’s back a few times before, it was usually with her father walking alongside to catch her, just in case she slid off. As Leona got used to riding Prince, Murdock occasionally allowed her to hold the reins while he held the bridle and walked Prince slowly, calmly assuring the animal with a whisper that the little girl on his back was not something to be afraid of, for neither Prince nor King were riding horses in the true sense. Indeed, they were used strictly as pulling horses and thus were not accustomed to having anything on their backs except their nearly weightless harnesses. Even so, the few times that Prince had carried Leona around the field was enough that the huge animal reacted calmly when the little girl pulled herself onto his back this time.
As Prince moved along at a moderate pace after hearing her “giddy-yup” command, Leona had all she could do to retain her seat on the powerful equine, with her little body bouncing helplessly on its back like a Raggedy Ann doll. Fortunately, there were plenty of straps on the harness to hold onto. Indeed, the little girl was able to slide her legs inside some of the harness straps, which essentially kept her tied to the horse. That was an immeasurable help that luckily kept her from slipping off. Leona was more than grateful that Murdock had allowed her to ride Prince bareback, because—although not totally comfortable at the prospect of riding him alone—the feel of his huge, muscular body under her wasn’t totally foreign.
Prince had only been carrying Leona a few hundred feet when she realized something: It was almost as if Murdock’s stallion sensed that her father was in trouble and felt the urgency that Leona was feeling. Undoubtedly, the horse also felt the trembling of Leona’s body and realized that he needed to be careful while carrying the scared little girl home. Moreover, the astute horse also realized that it must quicken its pace to meet the urgency of the situation without going so fast that she would have trouble staying on his back.
Gradually Prince increased the pace until he was satisfied that he had found just the right compromise. The muscular white horse held that quickened pace for as long as possible, slowing only when the precarious footing became too treacherous. When Leona realized what the horse was doing, she thought:
“So that’s what Papa meant when he said he liked working for Mr. Fogg because he had so much horse sense.”
—1—
Leona had been riding Prince homeward for only 15 minutes or so, and was well within sight of the School Road—“maybe it’s another 15 minutes to home,” she thought—when the frantic girl noticed a man walking with his back to her, only a few feet up ahead on the road. The heavily clothed man was carrying a shotgun in his left hand and he was wearing a red hunter’s cap with its earflaps pulled down, but not tied around his neck. He carried a dead rabbit and two dead pheasants over his right shoulder.
“Help!” she called out to the stranger.
He turned, saw the terrified look on the young girl’s face, and said: “What’s the matter, lil’ miss?”
“My Papa fell off his wagon, and I think he’s hurt real bad. He can’t move. Can you help me?” Leona pleaded.
“Where is your Papa?” the stranger asked.
“About 15 to 20 minutes back this road, on a side trail.”
The man wasted no time in responding to Leona’s plea. He threw his kill into the ditch, placed his shotgun in his right hand, grabbed the horse’s bridle with his left, and started walking as fast as he could down the Stream Road, with Leona still clinging to Prince’s back.
“Hold on tight,” he said; and then he asked her a question. “What’s your father’s name?”
“Papa … Ah. I mean, Murdock Haley. We live on Ohio Street, right across from the Winter Fun Road.”
“Don’t recollect hearing of that road, miss, but I’ve heard of Murdock Haley. He’s a good man, so I understand. And what’s your name, young lady?”
“Leona. And my Mama’s name is Margaret.” And for some inexplicable reason she blurted out: “She’s the best cook in Glenburn.”
Leona instantly wondered why she offered that bit of trivia to the stranger, given that her father was hurt and lying unconscious in the snow.
“I’ll hav’ta try some of her cooking one of these days,” the stranger replied.
He was trying to keep the young girl in conversation so she would remain calm. His tactic worked, mainly because there was something in the man’s demeanor and voice that made Leona at ease and somehow assured that everything would soon be okay. His amiable demeanor seemed non-threatening and his reassuring voice had a mysterious soothing effect on her; and, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she was now much less worried about her father. Before that, Leona was so concerned that she was almost in a fog and didn’t see the stranger’s face clearly when they first met, even though it was clean-shaven and in full view. Now she could only see the man’s back as he was walking down the road with unmistakable urgency, so much so that he dared not turn around to face the girl when he needed to asked questions. The urgent task at hand was all he could think about right now, and his concentration on the rocky and now very treacherous snow-covered road up ahead was imperative. So Leona could only wonder who the stranger was, and if she had ever met or even seen him before.
When the stranger heard Leona say that her father couldn’t move, the first thing he thought was that a broken neck or injured spinal column was a real possibility. If that were indeed the case he knew that they had to find Murdock as soon as possible, in the event that his breathing was impaired. Because of that real possibility the stranger considered running ahead or maybe even leaving Leona behind and riding the horse himself, but he decided against that because he needed the little girl to show him exactly where to go.
Even if she could give him directions to the trail
her father was on, he couldn’t take the chance that she might be mistaken. He knew all too well that panic often causes disorientation, even in the most reliable grownup, and this was just a 10-year-old girl. Besides, it had been snowing so hard and the wind was blowing so strong that the tracks Prince had made were nearly impossible to see and were quickly disappearing altogether, so he had to rely on the little girl’s help.
—2—
After 15 minutes the snow finally let up; a few minutes later Leona spoke.
“Mister! We have to turn left, somewhere up ahead, I think.”
“Okay, you let me know where, Leona.”
When they reached the portion of the Stream Road where five trails were clustered, Leona wasn’t sure which trail her father took.
“Slow up, mister. We have to turn off on one of these trails.”
“Which one?” the stranger asked.
“I’m not really sure. When my father and I made the turn I wasn’t paying close attention. I was sitting on the right side, peering into the woods on the right when he turned left. And now with the snow on them, the trails all look the same.”
“Well, do the best you can, Leona, and try to find the right trail. We’ll stop at each one so you can study them. Maybe you’ll see something you recognize.”
When they stopped at the first two trails, Leona couldn’t tell for sure if one of them was the trail she had been on or not, but she thought not. The third trail looked familiar to her, but again she couldn’t be sure.
“Do you think we should try taking this trail, Leona?”
“Nope, let’s go on,” the little girl answered. Upon coming to the fourth trail, Leona called out: “This is it! This is the trail my Papa took.”
“Are you sure, Leona?”
“Yup, I recognize that old tree way down there, because of that white thing in it.”
“What white thing? I don’t see anythin’ white down there, ‘cept the snow on the evergreens.”
“No, the dead tree. See the white spot way up high, near the top.”
“Oh yes. I see it. Okay, hang on tight. Let’s go, boy,” the stranger said to Prince.
Leona had all she could do to stay on the fast moving horse. She noticed that the mysterious stranger had an urgency about him now, as he was almost running down the trail. Within two minutes they were passing the large, dead tree, and Leona looked up at it. Again, the white object that she had seen twice before was gone.
“That’s funny,” she thought.
Finally, after what seemed like another thirty minutes instead of the ten it actually took, they came upon the wagon.
“There it is!” Leona shouted.
At first, the stranger didn’t see anyone lying near the wagon or anywhere in sight of it for that matter, so he became concerned. However, as they got closer he noticed a dark bundle under the wagon and realized that it must be Leona’s father.
“Was he run over by the wagon?” he asked.
“No, he just fell off it and hit his head,” she replied.
The stranger ran to the wagon and threw aside the log and the two rocks Leona had placed on the canvas. Then he cautiously removed the canvas that covered the injured man and was surprised to see that he was wrapped in two heavy blankets. As he knelt beside him, with Leona standing by his side, the stranger felt Murdock’s neck for a pulse. It seemed normal to him; and the warmth of his skin, in addition to seeing that his clothes were dry, told the old man that the canvas and warm blankets Leona had thoughtfully wrapped her father in had done the intended job.
“Leona, did you put your father under the wagon?” he asked.
“Yup. I didn’t want Papa getting covered with snow.”
“You did a real good job, young lady,” he said. “Your father likely wouldn’t have died from exposure, but he could have gotten very bad frostbite lying here exposed to the wind. Your Mama’s gonna be real proud of you.”
Leona smiled, and then smiled even harder when she heard what the stranger had to say next.
“I don’t think your father is hurt bad,” he assured her. “His breathing is normal. The only thing I can see wrong with him is a bruised cheekbone and a large bump on his head. I’m sure he was just knocked unconscious when he hit the ground. Let’s see if we can get him onto the wagon.”
Leona was noticeably relieved to hear the man’s prognosis. She quickly pulled the newly cut Christmas tree from the wagon and the stranger stored it in the woods for safekeeping.
“You and your father can come back for the tree when he’s recovered,” he told Leona upon returning to the wagon. “It looks like the snow has stopped falling for good now, so you won’t have to dig it out.”
She helped the stranger wipe four inches of dry snow off the wagon using a small shovel and straw broom Murdock kept on his slagon; and as they pulled on the canvas to extract Murdock from beneath it, he began to move. Leona was happy when she saw that her father had come to and was able to climb onto the wagon with the stranger’s help, but her happiness was short-lived because he was still extremely groggy and was experiencing blurred vision. As a result, he wasn’t quite sure where he was, or who he was. The stranger quickly harnessed Prince to the wagon and hopped onto the front seat, while Leona rode in the back with her father. She covered him with blankets and laid his head on her lap.
“I’ll take it nice and slow with the wagon so as not to jostle your father,” the stranger assured Leona. “Let me know if it gets too rough.”
Because the going was so slow, the usual 30-minute trip back to the Haleys’ took nearly 45 minutes. When Leona sensed the wagon turning left, she looked up and spotted the Haleys Trail sign, immediately feeling instant relief and then overwhelming exhilaration knowing that they would be home in a couple of minutes. When the wagon arrived at the edge of the woods, only 300 feet from the Haleys’ house, which was just coming into sight, the stranger stopped the wagon and asked Leona a question.
“How’s your father doing, Leona?”
“He’s seems to be getting better,” she answered.
“That’s good. Do you think you can drive this wagon by yourself?”
“Oh yes,” she responded, “my Papa taught me how. He even lets me drive the wagon around the field by myself when King and Prince need exercise.”
“Good. Your dad is gonna be okay, so I want you to climb into the front seat and take him the rest of the way home. I’ve gotta get back for my kill before a wolf gets at it.”
As he was waving goodbye, Leona took a real good look at the mysterious stranger’s face for the first time. He had a pleasant enough looking face, although fairly wrinkled, yet handsome and dignified in an odd sort of way, not unlike Abe Lincoln she thought. The clean-shaven man appeared to be only a few years older than her father. Leona thanked him as he walked away. It was then that she realized how lucky she was to find him walking on Stream Road.
“He could’ah been walking on any of the other trails and I would’ah missed him,” she thought. “Then Papa might’ta been lying there unconscious for a good hour, instead of only twenty minutes.”
“Hey, mister!” she yelled. “When you come back this way, please stop in and have some of my Mama’s good cooking.”
The man turned, smiled at the young girl, said, “Sure thing,” and then continued on his way.
“Oh, mister,” she yelled again, “I didn’t catch your name?”
This time he just kept walking.
“Guess he didn’t hear me. Now, how can I tell Mama who saved Papa?” she wondered.
—3—
“Lillian, are you keeping a close eye on Wally?” Margaret yelled from the kitchen.
“Yes, Mama,” she answered.
“Where is he?”
“He’s here in the living room with me, sitting on the floor and coloring in his book.”
&n
bsp; “Oak-kee-doak, watch him real close. And, Lillian, please keep an eye out for Leona and your father too; and let me know when you see them coming. I want them to fetch me some firewood for the stove.”
“Okay, Mama.”
“Thanks, dear.”
Every now and then Lillian glanced out the large picture window toward the woods trail that her father had taken in search of a Christmas tree. It was almost noon when she saw Leona driving the wagon across the back field. She ran into the kitchen and screamed:
“Mama, Leona’s driving the wagon, and I don’t see Papa!”
Out the door Margaret flew with an anxious look on her face.
“Leona, where’s your father?” she asked.
“He’s in the back of the wagon,” her daughter calmly replied.
“What in God’s name happened?”
“Papa fell off the wagon and bumped his head on a rock.”
Margaret gasped, rushed to the wagon, and struggled to help her still groggy husband into the house and onto their bed. Since the Haleys still had no telephone, she yelled to Lillian:
“Lil, hurry on down to your grandmother’s and ask her to call Dr. Gifford. And make sure she tells the doctor we need him here right away.”
Margaret had finally found a physician she liked and trusted, thanks to Mrs. Murphy. As they waited for Dr. Gifford to arrive, Leona told the story about the mysterious stranger who helped save her father’s life, with Margaret listening in disbelief. She found it hard to believe that Murdock was thrown off his own wagon. He was always so careful and seemed so strong that Margaret had come to see her husband as almost infallible, if not invincible.
“Thank God Leona ran into the hunter,” she said to Arlene. “I wonder who it was? I thought I knew, or knew of, everyone in West Glenburn, but from Leona’s description I can’t even hazard a guess who it could have been; he sounds like no one I know. Maybe he’s a hunter from the other side of town, or more likely from a neighboring town. But I wonder how he knew about Murdy? Anyway, I’m glad that fate placed him in the woods today; and, even more, in the right place, at the right time. Who knows what would’ah happened if your father had to lay there unattended for another hour or so.”
Journey With the Comet Page 38