A Rocky Mountain Christmas

by William W. Johnstone

  He clenched his jaw and turned away from Jenny. Thinking was getting him nowhere.

  Jenny watched Luke turn away from her. What is he thinking? she wondered. Does he think that because I worked at the social club I am a loose woman? Am I but a temporary diversion for him?

  Life had been a good teacher to Jenny, and she had learned well. She had developed an intuition that she trusted, and it was telling her Luke’s feelings for her were genuine. She concluded the answer to those questions was no.

  But what about her feelings for him? She had made a mistake once, succumbing to foolish infatuation. Was she experiencing the same thing? They had known each other for only three days. Love couldn’t develop in three days . . . could it?

  She knew Luke was going to jail, the result of an unjust verdict. She was certain his impending jail time was weighing heavily on his mind . . . so heavily it would undoubtedly cause him to put aside any feelings he might have for her.

  Giving thought to the comment he had made about the Samoans, and how there is no difference in the heart of a flower that lives but a single day and the heart of a tree that lives for a thousand years, she decided that was exactly how she would look at their current situation. If but a few days, or even a few hours remained for them she would fill what was left with love for Luke Shardeen.

  The morning dawned bright and sunny, heating the car inside. But there was little chance another opportunity for food would present itself as the coyote had done.

  Abner Purvis went back to talk to Matt. “Me, Jones, Turner, and Simpson have come up with a plan.”

  “What is your plan?”

  “We’re goin’ to walk out of here.”

  “Which way are you going?” Matt asked. “The snow in front is three hundred feet high.”

  “That’s why we are going to go back to Buena Vista. If we can get through, we’ll get a rescue train back up here.”

  “Mr. Purvis, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind but that there has already been a rescue attempt. If they could have gotten through, they would be here by now. That tells me that the way behind us is as blocked as the way before us.”

  “That may be, but we been talkin’ about it, and we don’t plan to stay here ’n starve to death. Besides which we had a little somethin’ to eat yesterday, so we ain’t goin’ to be any stronger than we are right now.”

  “You might have a point there,” Matt agreed. “But you aren’t going to get anywhere without snow shoes.”

  “We can try,” Purvis said.

  “When do you plan to leave?”

  “The sooner the better. If we leave now we might be over the worst part of it while there is still light.”

  It took Purvis and the other three men about five minutes to get ready, then everyone in the car wished them luck. With hopeful hearts they watched through the back window as the men attempted to go over the wall of snow piled up behind the train.

  Their attempts to climb the snow met with utter failure. They got a few feet up the side, only to slide back down again, or the very act of climbing itself pulled down large slides of snow. They kept at it for half an hour without the slightest bit of success. Finally, breathing hard and tired of bringing frigid air into their lungs, they had no recourse but to give up and return to the train.

  “I’m sorry,” Purvis said as he and the other three men huddled around the stove. They were so cold and exhausted Matt had thrown in a few extra lumps of coal for more heat. He feared they might contract pneumonia.

  “We tried, but we couldn’t get over the snow,” Jones explained, then sipped from the cup Matt was passing between the men. He had heated snow in the same chamber pot used to make the soup the day before, and though it was nothing but warm water, it made them feel better to drink it.

  “What do we do now?” Bailey asked.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see what develops.” Matt looked over toward Millie and Becky. “How is she doing this morning?”

  “Not well,” Millie said, choking back a sob. “Not well at all. She’s not even conscious anymore. I’m—I’m afraid she might be dying.”

  Matt took some warm water over to them, making certain the water wasn’t too hot. “Bathe her face in this,” he offered. “It won’t help with the illness, but if she can feel it, it might make her feel a little better.

  “Bless you.” Millie tore some of the hem off her skirt and using it as a washcloth, bathed Becky’s face gently with the warm water.

  Becky made no response.

  “Mrs. Daniels, you have been sitting in that same position for ever so long,” Jenny said. “Why don’t you let me sit there and hold your little girl’s head in my lap while you get a little rest?”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. That would be wonderful . . . if you are sure you don’t mind.”

  “No ma’am. I don’t mind at all.” Jenny changed places with Millie, and put Becky’s head in her lap.

  “I’m going to hold you for a while now, Becky, while your mama gets a little rest. I hope you don’t mind.” Jenny looked down and smiled at the girl but got no reaction. Concerned, she put her hand on the child’s forehead and found her burning with a very high fever.

  Dear Lord, Jenny prayed silently. I haven’t always led the life I should, and I know I have no right to ask you for anything. But maybe since I’m not asking for anything for myself you will hear this prayer. Please, Lord, don’t let this innocent child die. It’s nearly Christmas. Please send her the Christmas gift of life. Amen.

  “How many more days until Christmas?” Jenny heard Timmy ask.

  “Christmas is in two days,” Timmy’s mother answered.

  “I’ll be glad when it’s Christmas,” Timmy’s younger sister Molly said. “Won’t you be glad when it’s Christmas, Mama?”

  “Yes, dear,” Clara replied quietly. “I’ll be glad when it’s Christmas.”

  “Will we still be on this train at Christmas?” Timmy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clara answered.

  “Can Santa Claus find us if we are still on the train?” Molly asked.

  “If he can’t find us on the train, he will find us as soon as we get home.”

  “This isn’t like Christmas,” Timmy declared. “We don’t have a Christmas tree. We don’t have any cookies. It’s nothing like Christmas.”

  “Oh, but we have snow,” Jenny said. “And every Christmas should have snow. Think of all the boys and girls who live way down south and have no snow at all.”

  Luke laughed. “You are quite a woman, Jenny, to find a bright side to the snow.”

  “Well, without snow, how would Santa Claus land his sleigh?” Jenny asked. “His reindeer, Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen need snow.”

  “How do you know the names of Santa Claus’s reindeer?” Steven asked.

  “Why, from the poem ‘A Visit From St. Nicholas,’” Jenny said. “Have you never heard that poem?”

  “No, ma’am, I ain’t never heard it,” Steven said.

  “I’ve never heard it either,” Molly said.

  “Why, that is such a wonderful poem for children. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Steven nodded.

  “Me, too,” Timmy said. “Do you know the poem?”

  “Oh, yes, I know it. It was written by a man named Clement Moore for his children. Why don’t all of you gather round, and I’ll tell you the poem. And maybe Becky can hear it, too.”

  “Becky is very sick,” Molly said somberly.

  “Yes, dear, I know she is. But sometimes you can hear things, even when you are too sick to talk. I think Becky will be able to hear it. And I think she will feel better on Christmas Day.”

  Timmy and his two sisters, as well as Barbara and Steven, gathered around Jenny and Becky. Seeing all the eager young faces made Jenny feel good, and she could almost believe she was teaching a class again.

  Smiling, Jenny began to recite the poem.

  “�
��Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

  The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

  In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.”

  “St. Nicholas? Who is that?” Timmy asked.

  “That’s Santa Claus’s real name,” Barbara said. “Isn’t it, Mrs. McCoy?”

  “Indeed it is,” Jenny said. Then she continued.

  “The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

  While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

  And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,

  Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

  When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

  I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

  Away to the window I flew like a flash,

  Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

  The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

  Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.

  When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

  But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

  With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

  I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.”

  “St. Nick. That’s Santa Claus!” Steven exclaimed.

  “That’s Santa Claus all right,” Jenny said. She continued reciting the poem.

  “More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

  And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

  ‘Now Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!

  On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!

  To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

  Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!’

  As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

  When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

  So up to the housetop the coursers they flew,

  With the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.

  And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

  The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

  As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

  Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.”

  Molly laughed. “That’s funny—Santa Claus coming down through a chimney. Why, what keeps him from getting burned in the fire?”

  “That’s how Santa Claus gets into people’s houses. And he doesn’t get burned in the fire ’cause he’s magic,” Barbara said.

  Jenny continued.

  “He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

  And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

  A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

  And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

  His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

  His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

  His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

  And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

  The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

  And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

  He had a broad face and a little round belly,

  That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly!

  He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

  And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself !

  A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

  Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

  He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

  And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

  And laying his finger aside of his nose,

  And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

  He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

  And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

  But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

  ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’”

  “Oh, that was a wonderful poem, Jenny,” Millie said. “And you spoke it so beautifully.”

  “Yes,” Clara added. “And I think the children really enjoyed it, didn’t you, children?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I liked it a lot,” Timmy said. “I just wish that Santa Claus could find us on the train.”

  “If he could find us, what would you have him bring?” Jenny asked.

  “Something to eat for us.” Timmy looked at Becky. “And some medicine for Becky, so she wouldn’t be sick anymore.”

  “That is a wonderful gift to wish for,” Jenny said.

  “That won’t happen, though,” Steven said.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if it happened.” Jenny smiled. “Sometimes, wonderful things happen on Christmas. Christmas was the day Jesus was born, you know.”

  “I know,” Timmy said. “He was borned in a barn.”

  “Why was the baby Jesus borned in a barn?” Molly asked.

  “Because they didn’t have hotels way back when Jesus was borned,” Timmy said.

  “Yes they did,” Barbara said. “But they didn’t call them hotels then. They called them inns. And Jesus was born in a stable and put in a manger, because there was no room at the inn.”

  “How do you know that?” Timmy asked.

  “Because it’s in the Bible,” Barbara said.

  “That’s right. The whole Christmas story is in the Bible.” Luke began to tell the story.

  “‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”

  “Wow! I’m impressed!” Jenny said with a smile. “How were you able to do that?”

  “I’ve spent many a Christmas at sea,” Luke explained. “And I’ve often been called upon to read the Christmas story to the sailors. I’ve read it so many times that I finally memorized it.”

  “You know what?” Timmy said. “I think that, even if we are still on this train, it will be a good Christmas.”

  “Now why on earth would you say something like that?” Senator Daniels snarled. “We are stranded here, with no food.”

  “But we have friends,” Timmy said with a broad smile. “And friends are about the best things you can have.”

  “Timmy, you are wise beyond your years,” Luke said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Big Rock

  Again, Smoke and Duff took the sleigh into town. This time, though, Sally went with them. Smoke let Sally off in front of the Big Rock Mercantile, Duff got out in front of Longmont’s, then Smoke drove on to the livery barn. Stopping just outside, he unhitched the team, then led them into the barn.

  Liveryman Ike Shelby was just inside the barn talking to three other men—Sheriff Monte Carson, Dan Norton the prosecuting attorney, and Allen Blanton, editor and publisher of the Big Rock Chronicle.

  “Gentleman,” Smoke greeted. “Ike, I’d like to leave my team here for a while so they are somewhat out of the cold.”

  “Sure thing, Smoke. Billy, take Mr. Jensen’s team,” Ike called to one of his employees.

  “What’s going on?” Smoke asked.

  “We had a murder here, last night,” Sheriff Carson said.

  “A murder? What happened?”

  “When Billy came to open up this morning, he found Corey Calhoun’s body lying over there.” Ike pointed to a spot in front of a stall.r />
  “Shot?” Smoke asked.

  “He had been stabbed,” Sheriff Carson answered.

  “You knew him, didn’t you, Smoke?” Blanton asked.

  “Yes, I knew him.”

  “How well did you know him?” Norton asked.

  “I knew him fairly well. He worked for me from time to time. He was a good man, and he, Pearlie, and Cal were friends. Stabbed, you say?”

  “Through the heart,” Ike said.

  “Do you have any ideas on what happened?”

  “According to some of the boys over at the Brown Dirt, Calhoun had a pretty good night at poker and won well over a hundred dollars.”

  “Let me guess. You didn’t find any money on him,” Smoke said.

  “Not a cent,” Sheriff Carson replied. “My guess is that someone saw him leave the table a winner, followed him over here, and killed him.

  “What about footprints in the snow?” Smoke asked.

  Sheriff Carson shook his head. “No help. There are hundreds of footprints everywhere, none that will do us any good.”

  “I hope you find him,” Smoke said.

  “We will.”

  Leaving his team with Ike, and his sleigh parked outside, Smoke walked down to the depot to see what he could find out.

  “The rescue train tried to get through to them,” Phil said, “but it failed because the tracks are blocked by snow.”

  “How do you know they failed?”

  “These stories were wired to the Big Rock Chronicle.” Phil showed Matt the newspaper.

  Special to the CHRONICLE by wire, from the BUENA VISTA NUGGET

  RELIEF EFFORT UNSUCCESSFUL

  TRAIN FORCED TO TURN BACK

  The train that was to relieve the trapped Red Cliff Special was forced to return to Buena Vista when a wall of snow presented an insurmountable impediment. Doodle Reynolds, the engineer, stated that, not even with the plow affixed to the front of his engine could the snow be removed.

  Hodge Deckert has assured those who have loved ones on board the train that the passengers are in no danger or great distress as the diner carries extra food for just such a contingency. It is expected the snow will be sufficiently melted within a few days to allow another rescue attempt to be made.