None of the rest of us could understand why she was so prejudiced against Indians, especially with what a good friend Little Wolf had been to our whole family. But we had learned to accept that Katie didn’t think like the rest of us. She’d never been very friendly toward Rev. Rutledge either, as much as she knew he meant to the rest of us all. And although she was usually pretty tolerant, every once in a while she’d make some comment that let everyone know how ridiculous she thought trying to live like a Christian was.
“Going to church is one thing,” she said once. “And though I don’t have much use for it myself, I don’t mind folks going themselves. But all this talking about God in between times, and praying, and trying to act religious about everything else you do—that’s just taking it too far. Church is one thing, but you’ve got to live life without trying to bring God into every little thing. I’ve got no use for that kind of thinking. It’s just not natural.”
Almeda had been praying for her and hoping to find opportunities to share with her how she felt. I didn’t know what Uncle Nick thought of it all. He never said much.
Mr. Royce was the last one to arrive, all alone in his expensive black buggy. Pa and Almeda greeted him as if he were an old family friend, and the look on his face made it clear he didn’t know what to make of it. What he thought of getting the invitation in the first place I don’t know, but being greeted and welcomed as a friend was altogether too much! Maybe he was so used to folks being suspicious of him that courtesy and friendliness made him uncomfortable. He was pretty reserved the whole day, yet entered into the spirit of the occasion as much as he was able to.
Once everybody had arrived, we went inside the house. The whole place was filled with delicious smells! The table was set as fancy as we had been able to make it, but Pa asked everyone to sit around in the big room where the chairs were rather than at the table.
“Almeda says the ham still has about half an hour,” he said, “so that’s why I arranged the chairs out here. There’s some things I want us to talk about before we get down to the business of the dinner.”
Everyone took a seat and it got quiet. Pa stood up in front and everybody waited for him to continue.
“Ever since me and the kids got together four years back,” Pa began when everyone was situated, “we’ve kept up the tradition of reading the Christmas story together, kind of in memory of our Aggie, the kids’ ma, and in memory of what this day’s supposed to be all about.”
Pa turned behind him and took down Ma’s white Bible and flipped through the pages.
“This is our fifth Christmas together in California,” he went on. “And, Avery, with all respect to you being our preacher, I think I’m going to keep this privilege all to myself today.”
“Wonderful, Drummond!” said Rev. Rutledge with a smile. “It is a great blessing for me to be able to listen to you.”
“So I’d like to invite all the rest of you to listen, though I guess I’m mostly reading this to the five of you kids. And you be sure to remember your Ma when I read, ’cause she got us going with this tradition, and I don’t doubt for a minute that it’s on account of her prayers that we’re all together like this, doing our best to walk with the Lord like she did.”
He drew in a sigh. I looked at Almeda out of the corner of my eye as he spoke. The radiant smile on her face was full of such love! I knew there was no confusion in her mind—or in any one else’s—over the love Pa had for both her and Ma, and the special place both the women God had given him held in different corners of his heart.
“And it came to pass in those days,” began Pa with the familiar words out of Luke, “That there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, an angel of the Lord came upon them . . .”
As he read the story, Pa’s voice filled the room. Everyone sat quiet, not just listening, but absorbing his words. It was a different voice than the one who had read the Christmas story four years earlier, just after we had arrived in California. This was the voice of a man of confidence, afraid of nothing—not even afraid to stand up and talk to other people about his God and the birth of His Son. Just listening to him read—well, it was no wonder that the people around here had come to respect and admire him. Now it was Pa reading from the Scriptures, and Rev. Rutledge sitting and listening with a smile on his face, as if he was proud of Pa and what he was becoming. Pa’s voice seemed to have a power in it, even though he was reading softly.
As we sat there listening, I looked at the faces around me. What did Mr. Lame Pony and Little Wolf think of our Christmas religious practices? Franklin Royce’s eyes were fixed on Pa as if he was trying to make sense of this man who was extending forgiveness toward someone who had done his best to destroy him. I saw something in that lonely banker’s face, and a little spark of love for the man stirred in my heart.
Alkali Jones sat there more still than I’d ever seen him. He was staring down at the floor, so deep in thought he looked like he was a thousand miles and forty years away. I wondered what memories he was re-living as Pa read. Had his mother read him this passage as a child? What was going through that old mind? And Katie—she sat there, still looking solemn. I couldn’t read a thing in her eyes. But I knew she was thinking.
Pa’s voice pervaded the room, and the very sound was weaving a mood upon us. I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of what it might be like for God to be speaking through a man as I was that day. I felt as if God himself was telling us the story of Jesus’ birth, and using Pa’s voice to do it. It was hard to imagine that Katie had a hard time believing, or that Mr. Royce had ever been Pa and Almeda’s enemy, or that there could possibly be enmity between Indians and white people. There was such a good feeling in the room, a sense of oneness. The story of Jesus’ birth was so alive that we were all sitting on the edge of our seats to hear how it would all turn out.
“ . . . And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the child, his name was called JESUS, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb.”
Pa stopped, and the room remained silent. Pa closed the Bible, and then after a short pause started talking again.
“I don’t aim to start infringing on our good Reverend’s territory. That’d be just a different kind of claim jumping, wouldn’t you say, Avery? But it strikes me that a few more words might be in order on a day like this. Since this is my house and you all are our guests, then I reckon nobody’ll mind if I take the liberty of delivering them myself.”
A few people chuckled, and everybody relaxed in their seats. “You go right ahead, Drummond,” said Rev. Rutledge. “I’m sure these good folks are sick of my preaching and will welcome the change!”
“Well, I thank you,” replied Pa, “but I ain’t gonna preach, and I don’t aim to keep them as long as you do on Sundays!”
More laughter followed.
“I guess I just figured this was a good time for me to say a thing or two about what Christmas means to me,” said Pa. “And what my family means. Somehow you need to say these kinds of things to other people once in a while for it to get all the way down to where it’s supposed to go. So I’m going to tell you who’re here with us today.”
He paused, took a breath, then continued.
“Christmas is a time for giving and good food and friends,” Pa s
aid. “And for the youngsters there’s always some toys and gifts and candy. So now and then we can get our eyes off what’s the true meaning of this day. On this day God’s Son, the little baby Jesus, was born. We need to remember that, because without his coming to the earth when he did, and living his life and then giving it up for us, there wouldn’t be any life for the rest of us.
“But then I’ve been thinking, there really is something special about families at Christmas. So I just want to say how thankful I am that God gave me this family of mine—every one of these kids that Aggie gave me, God bless her. And for Almeda and the one that she’s bearing right now, and for Nick and Katie and their family. I just feel about as full and blessed as any man ought to have a right to feel. And I’m thankful for the rest of you too, because you’re what you might call a part of our bigger family.
“So, God bless you all—thank you for sharing Christmas with us. Let’s not forget that Jesus was born on this day a long time ago. And let’s never forget that good friends and family are what makes this world a pretty special place.”
Pa stopped and sat down. In earlier years he might have shown a little embarrassment at making a speech like that. But not this time.
“Amen to every word, Drummond!” said Rev. Rutledge. “We are blessed to be part of your family, and that you are part of all of us too.”
Pa nodded while a few other comments filtered around.
“And now, might I be permitted a word or two also?” the minister added, glancing first at Pa and then at Almeda.
“Of course, Avery,” said Almeda.
“This won’t take long,” said Rev. Rutledge, standing up and then clearing his throat. He sent a glance and smile in Miss Stansberry’s direction.
“I have a little announcement to make,” he went on, “and I—that is, we—thought it would be nice to wait and tell you all about it all at once. And what more fitting time and place than here on Christmas day?”
He took in a big gulp of air, then plunged ahead. “And what I’ve got to tell you is this: Harriet and I are engaged to be married. . . .”
I think he was going to say something more, but before he could get another word out of his mouth, Almeda was on her feet nearly shrieking with delight.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to Miss Stansberry and taking both her hands in a tight clasp.
In the meantime Pa and Uncle Nick had joined the minister and were shaking his hand and slapping him on the shoulder. In another minute everyone else was on their feet joining the hubbub and well-wishing.
“Couldn’t keep from stealing the show, eh, Reverend?” laughed Uncle Nick.
Rev. Rutledge knew he was being kidded only because of how happy everyone was for him, and joined in another loud round of laughter with the men. His boisterous laugh could even be heard above Alkali Jones’ hee, hee, hee! The fact that Pa and Uncle Nick and Avery Rutledge were laughing and joking and talking together like they were showed how much things had changed in those four years since our first Christmas together. Who could have foreseen it all?
I glanced over at Almeda. She’d been talking with Miss Stansberry, but then looked over across the room at the men. For once she wasn’t looking at Pa, but at Rev. Rutledge. She had tears in her eyes. She had cared for him, in a different way from Pa. And I knew his happiness meant a lot to her.
But she only watched the celebrating men a moment, then clapped her hands a few times and raised her voice above the din.
“Enough everyone!” she cried. “You can do the rest of your visiting and carrying on at the table. It’s time to eat, and the food’s hot! Come now, find your places!”
Chapter 31
The Feast
What a group that was!
Pa stood up by his chair at the head of the table and raised his hands to quiet everyone down for the prayer.
“Before you take your seats,” said Pa, “let’s all bow our heads and give thanks to God.”
Everyone calmed down. A quiet settled over the room.
“God, we thank you for this day,” said Pa solemnly. “Help us all never to forget what it means. And help us every day of the year to remember how much you loved us, and the whole world, to give us your Son. And thank you for family and friends, and the good food and fellowship you give us together. Amen.”
“Okay, everyone,” said Almeda, walking toward the stove while everyone got into their seats, “we’ve got ham and sweet potatoes, biscuits, stew, vegetables, and a special treat that Lame Pony and Little Wolf fixed for us—what did you call them, Jack?”
“Pozoles,” answered Little Wolf’s father. “That is Mexican word. Little Wolf and me, we just say pig’s feet.”
“So all of you try one of Jack’s pozoles,” added Almeda—handing two large pewter platters, one to Pa, one to Mr. Royce—“while we start this food around the table. But save room for the pies!”
It didn’t take long for everyone’s plate to be piled high, and within five minutes the sounds of eating and conversation and laughter echoed around the table. There was a harmony in it, almost like music. I sat with Becky on one side and Little Wolf on the other, trying to listen to Mr. Jones on the other side of Becky and Rev. Rutledge a little further away. I was especially curious about what Pa and the banker were talking about. So the whole meal for me was a mixed-together jumble of half-conversations, laugher that I didn’t know the cause of, words, smiles, and always passing food and exhortations from Almeda to eat up on the one hand but to save place for dessert on the other.
Alkali Jones was in good form, as always, and must have told two or three of his famous “totally” unbelievable stories. But as interesting as they always were, on this day I found myself most eager to hear what was going on across the table, and I strained to listen whenever I could.
“Glad you could be with us today, Franklin,” Almeda had said.
“I must say your invitation came as a surprise.”
“Why’s that?” said Pa. But when the banker turned toward him to answer, I couldn’t hear what he said.
“ . . . put it in the past,” I heard Pa say next. “Learn to live like neighbors and brothers. . . .”
“What my husband is talking about, Franklin, is forgiveness,” put in Almeda. “Don’t you think it’s time to let bygones be bygones?”
Mr. Royce said something, but I couldn’t hear it. He didn’t seem altogether comfortable with the direction of the conversation. It was as if he didn’t know how to react to it being so personal.
“That’s exactly what I was trying to say,” added Pa. “I figure if I’m gonna be mayor, even though you wanted to be when this whole thing started, then I’ve got to be your mayor too. And that means doing the best I can for you just like everyone else. And so we figured the best place to start was to invite you to our home and shake your hand like a friend and neighbor, and say, ‘Merry Christmas, let’s put the past behind us.’”
“ . . . kind of you—kind of you both,” Mr. Royce said, “certainly more hospitality than anyone else in this town has ever shown me.”
“We want to be your friend, Franklin,” said Almeda, and although I was too far away to see into her eyes, I knew from her tone what kind of look was on her face.
“Even though I tried to put you out of business and have opened a store to compete against you? A Christmas meal may be one thing, but do you seriously think I can believe you want to be my friend?”
“Believe what you want, Royce,” answered Pa, and now it was quieting down a bit around the table as more of us were listening to this most interesting conversation. “Whether you can understand it or not, we’re supposed to be your neighbor and to try to do good to you and to love you. That’s what the Lord God tells his folks to do, and it don’t matter what they do back to you in return. So Almeda and I’ve been praying for you, and we want to do good for you however we can. I don’t reckon I’ve been too neighborly to you in the past, and I hope you will find it in your hear
t to forgive me for that. In the mean time, I aim to change. I aim to forgive you for what you’ve done, to keep praying for you, and to do my best for you however I can.”
He stopped, and the table was silent for just a moment. Mr. Royce just shook his head and muttered something at the same time as Alkali Jones let out with a cackle, “Hee, hee, hee! If that don’t beat all! Mayor and preacher all rolled up into one!”
Then Tad asked for another biscuit and Almeda started passing food again, and pretty soon the conversation was once more at a loud pitch, although I never heard any more serious goings-on between Pa and Mr. Royce.
The only person who didn’t enter much into the lively talk was Katie. She hardly said a word, and didn’t seem to be enjoying the Christmas celebration at all. She was either feeling mighty poorly, or else had something brewing in her mind.
When the meal was done, the men went outside to light pipes and talk about horses and weather and whatever else men talk about. We girls and Miss Stansberry and Almeda got busy cleaning everything up, talking and chatting away, mostly about Rev. Rutledge’s and Miss Stansberry’s surprise news, and when they were planning the wedding and what kind of dress she would wear. Katie still didn’t participate much. Claiming to be tired, she left and went back up to their place.
An hour or so later, when we had the place looking tidy again, the men came back in and we cut into the huckleberry and pumpkin pies. Uncle Nick had a piece of pie, then took little Erich and went to check on Katie.
By this time even Jack Lame Pony seemed to be feeling real comfortable and he and Pa and Rev. Rutledge were talking freely. Hermon was asking lots of questions about the horse-breaking work they did and was even planning to go up to their place in a day or two to look for a new horse. Zack and Little Wolf and Tad were off shooting their guns. Franklin Royce was even entering in a little to the conversation, though I still don’t think I’d seen him smile the whole day. But at least the scowl that I’d always associated with him was gone from his face, and every once in a while I’d hear him say something to one of the other men. He seemed a little out of his element, however, with the others talking about such man-things as working and mining and shooting and horse-taming, and him there with his suit and white hands that hardly looked like they’d seen a day of work. But you almost had to admire him for entering in as much as he did.
A Place in the Sun Page 14