“What about Joan?”
“Hold on here—what’s fortress?” interrupted Christopher before Zack could answer, approaching closer with a wary but curious expression on his face as he munched down the last of his egg.
“You’ll love it,” answered Tad. “I’ll show you everything.”
He leapt up from his chair. “Come on. First thing we gotta do is set up our territories.”
“How about the mine?” suggested Zack as all four headed back outside.
“Yeah, the walkway is the boundary. Mike and I claim the space between the big boulder up the hill and the bridge over the creek to Uncle Nick’s. You take below.”
“All right, and since you’re on the hill, it’ll be my invasion. Six tags and we have to go back and start over.”
“Okay by me.”
The door swung shut behind them, and they were off up toward the mine to man the fortress and plan the invasion. As I listened, part of me wanted to go out and play with them. I loved to play fortress and hadn’t done it for years! Maybe I’d be able to play after dinner. Right now I still had the apple pies to finish.
I didn’t know if the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. I just knew that Christopher loved apple pie, and I was determined to make the ones this Christmas as good as Mrs. Timms’. The game would have to wait.
Chapter 32
A Cozy Evening
When we finally rang the bell signaling that the long-awaited Christmas feast was ready, everyone’s appetite was ready to do justice to the long hours of preparation.
Through the door trooped the conquerors and vanquished, laughing and talking and sweating. It was a little harder to get the younger ones inside and settled down, for they had been passionately involved in a game of ball with Mike’s equipment, the rules for which would have been anyone’s guess. But the aromas from the kitchen finally triumphed over games and balls and contests and discussions, and at length all the seats around the great table and two temporary, makeshift ones were occupied and expectant.
Even though there were two ministers present, Pa stood, reached out his arms, waited for everyone to join hands in a great circle around the room, and then he prayed.
“Our heavenly Father,” he prayed, “we’re real thankful for all you’ve done for us. We want to thank you on this special day for our family and friends, for the provision from your hand for everything we need, for our health, and for the laughter of young’uns and the high spirits of young folks and for the wisdom of older folks. Thank you that you’ve given us all these to enjoy today. Thank you for our visitors from near and far—especially the happy surprise of Emily’s visit with Mike and little Sarah. We thank you too for Christopher being here among us. Thank you, God for this day, and for giving your Son for us. We ask that you keep on blessing all the families represented here. Help us to serve you in all that we do. And thank you especially for all the good women who’ve been working so hard to make this day special. Amen.”
Then came the steaming platters and bowls and plates, filled with every kind of holiday food it was possible to imagine!
Turkey and ham provided the foundation, the latter glazed with honey and smelling of the cloves stuck into it all around. There were vegetables in plenty—corn, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and squash. Fresh bread and warm butter came next, followed by crabapple relish to add color to the display on the table. Already the platters were being emptied onto the plates of the hungry, while Almeda and I continued to bring more—the deviled eggs, another fruit salad, a vegetable and chicken salad, and at last gravy for the potatoes.
Standing ready for later were three apple pies, a cherry pie Aunt Katie had made from her stock of canned cherries, and a dessert that Harriet had brought with crushed berries and cherries, heavily sweetened and mixed with whipped cream, rolled up in a flaky pastry shell.
Never would we be able to eat a fourth of what we had prepared!
The conversation was lively, with Mr. Jones’ hee, hee, hee of a laugh sounding out now and then. With children around too, there was never any flagging of enthusiasm.
After we had all been sitting for fifteen or twenty minutes, still at the table, wondering why we had eaten so much, Pa rose and slowly made his way to the door. He opened it and peered out.
“What is it, Drum?” asked Almeda.
Pa turned back in and closed the door.
“Sun’s gone. Dark clouds coming this way from over the mountains in the east.”
“Is it going to snow, Papa?” asked Ruth.
“It just may, little girl . . . it just may.”
He sat down again, and we continued to talk and visit. Nobody was in the mood for pie yet.
By five or five-thirty it was pretty dark, and the sky had grown heavy with clouds. There wasn’t much wind down on the ground, but the winds must have been high up in the mountains because the storm came on quickly. It was warm, too, not like you’d expect for a winter storm.
Pa piled several more logs onto the fire, went to the door again and stared out, then brought in a store of wood from outside, as if he expected severe weather before morning.
We ate the pies and pastries and cookies, and the men kept nibbling at little scraps of turkey and ham like men do. By seven we could hear the wind starting to pick up. Pa went outside again.
“Temperature’s dropping,” he announced when he came back in. “Ten degrees lower already, and it could fall even further. If you’re going back home tonight, Avery,” he added to Rev. Rutledge, “you’d best be going. Not that we wouldn’t love to put you up, and we will too if need be, but I thought you oughta know. Rain, or something whiter, ain’t far off.”
Rev. Rutledge rose. So did Harriet, rousing little Mary, who had dozed off in her lap.
“Then we thank you for your hospitality, and for a wonderful Christmas,” Rev. Rutledge said, “but we don’t want to impose further. I think we three Rutledges would like to sleep in our own beds tonight.”
“Zack,” said Pa, “why don’t you and Tad saddle up a couple of horses and ride the Reverend into town.”
Both boys were on their feet in an instant, grabbing their coats and hats and heading for the door.
“We will be fine, Drummond, I assure you,” said Rev. Rutledge.
“I’m sure you will, but I’ll rest more comfortably if the boys accompany you. You know as well as anyone how quickly a storm springs up around here. And with you not feelin’ well lately . . . well, I’d just feel better.”
Rev. Rutledge made no more reply. They said their goodbyes around the room, and in five more minutes they were gone.
“Alkali, Christopher—what about the two of you?” said Pa. “We’d sure like you to stay a spell longer if you want. We might even be able to have another piece of that pie if we wait long enough. But we could have bad weather anytime.”
“We’re planning to put Christopher up for another night,” put in Aunt Katie. “We already arranged it.”
“Good, then. Alkali, if you get snowed in, we’ll put you up out in the barn.”
“Hee, hee, hee—I’ll be right at home!”
The conversation settled down again. About eight we heard the boys’ horses returning. Five minutes later the door opened and a howl of wind roared through, sending a frigid breeze through the whole room.
“It’s nasty out!” said Tad. “I don’t know how we could see a thing. Somehow the horses knew the way.”
“The Reverend home okay?” asked Pa.
“Yep,” said Zack, “and just in time.”
“What do you mean?”
“It started snowing almost the minute we turned around and headed back out.”
“It’s snowing?” exclaimed Ruth, running toward the door.
Everyone else was right behind her. Pa tried to open the door carefully, but again the wind blew so hard it nearly took Ruth off her feet.
Sure enough. Giant white flakes were swirling around outside in the blackness. The storm had
kicked up so fast. Now it was emptying the contents of those black clouds right on Miracle Springs!
“A snowy Christmas!” I exclaimed. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”
After we’d all had a look and had begun to grow cold, we went back in and sat down. Knowing it was snowing outside changed the whole mood of the gathering. The conversation subsided. Even the youngsters seemed to share the peaceful feeling brought on by knowing that a silent blanket of whiteness was gradually spreading itself all over us and that we were cozy and warm inside.
Pa stoked the fire again and added some more logs, but gradually the chill of the night penetrated the walls. Chairs began to inch closer to the fire. Blankets came out and began to be wrapped around shoulders and feet. The peacefulness deepened, almost to a hushed awe. I think somehow the snow made us all think of that first Christmas so long ago when baby Jesus was born in Bethlehem—even though there was no snow on that night, only the stars that God used to light the way to the stable where his Son was being born.
Soon everyone was bundled up and staring into the fire, the quiet and the firelight adding layer upon layer to the coziness.
What a contrast between the inside and the outside! We couldn’t hear the snow falling on the roof. But we could hear the wind, and we could feel the snow insulating us beneath its frozen crystals. Every once in a while an edge of the wind would catch the chimney and wander down with a moan, as if to remind us that we weren’t altogether safe from the storm. But with Pa in the room with us, we were safe from anything. The whole day I had felt like being a child again, and the storm added all the more to that feeling of mystery and security.
As we sat there I thought of the contrast between this cozy, quiet, peaceful evening and all the bustle of the week before, when we were getting ready for Christmas. We had been hurrying about, baking and decorating and planning and making sure everything was perfect. Even though all the Christmasy things were behind us—the party at the town hall, the gifts, conversation, laughter, guests, dinner, dessert—now it seemed like all that had just been preparation for this quiet time in front of the fire. Now we were able to sit back and appreciate the fruit of our labors.
No one thought about what time it was. We just sat, mostly staring into the fire. Every once in a while a brief conversation would flicker into life, just like the flames would rise and brighten occasionally. Then, like the fire, we would settle back again into the contented silence.
The next thing I knew I had dozed off next to Christopher on the sofa, and now I roused back up when I felt him stand. He didn’t say a word, just walked over to the hearth and picked up the Bible that always lay there.
I don’t know whether Pa had said something to him or he to Pa when I’d been asleep. But no words passed between them now. Christopher just handed the Bible to Pa, and Pa took it as though he’d been expecting it the whole time.
He opened it to the Gospel of Luke and began quietly reading the familiar words.
And it came to pass in those days, 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. . . .
Pa read the whole story.
There could not have been a more perfect way to end a wonderful Christmas Day.
Chapter 33
Pa’s Decision
Pa and Christopher and Zack and Tad had started in on the new corral and barn the next day after they’d begun planning, and by the week after Christmas the work was in full swing.
Christopher and Zack spent that whole week felling thin trees from the other side of the creek for the rails, plus a few thicker ones for the posts. (The Supply Company carried what wire and staples and nails they needed.) The lumber for the barn had to be ordered from the mill, and by the time it was ready the fencing for the corral was nearly completed.
It was the third week of January in the year 1866 that Pa told us his decision. He’d been back to Sacramento for a week for the first legislative meetings of the new year. He came back all the way on Friday and got home real late.
The new barn was starting to come up by then. They’d got the foundation pretty well finished before Pa’d left on Monday, and he’d told Zack and Tad and Christopher not to go any further on it till he got back. I think he was afraid he might come home and find the barn completely done. They could have done it too, but Pa didn’t want to miss the fun of watching the walls and roof go up and seeing their dream come to life.
Those five days Pa was gone had given everybody a chance to catch up on other work that they’d been neglecting. But it was so dreary and quiet around the place without the sounds of the four of them outside!
The Saturday after Pa got back, he was out of bed at sunup and outside. Christopher rode in from town about the same time, and when he and Pa came inside a little later, he hardly noticed me. They were talking so feverishly about this and that, as they sat down at the table for coffee, that Almeda and I might as well not even have been there! My feelings weren’t really hurt, though, because of how wonderful it was to see them hitting it off.
It wasn’t long before Zack and Tad rolled out of bed and joined them for a quick breakfast before heading out to work. I think that was the longest day they had put in yet on the place. By suppertime they had all the barn walls nearly raised.
They were exhausted when they came in to supper. But you could tell how much they were enjoying the work—Pa most of all. He hadn’t had so much fun in years, and it was even better to be able to work hard alongside his own sons.
It was at supper that he told us what he’d been thinking.
“I been ponderin’ over this for a while,” he said. “It ain’t a sudden decision, though I reckon working out there today like we did made me finally realize it was what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Maybe it’s Christopher’s coming and saying he wants to work with me, too, that got me thinking more about it. I figure if he’s got what it takes to give me a year out of his life, then I oughta have what it takes to give him a good full year on the other side of the fence, instead of only a few days here and there when I have the time. Doesn’t seem like it’d quite be a fair bargain if I didn’t.”
Nobody was quite sure what Pa was getting at, but we waited and let him keep going.
“Anyway,” Pa went on, “what I’m trying to say is that the legislature’s been a mite boring for me lately. And I been wanting to spend more time with my family. The way it looks to me is that maybe now’s a good opportunity to make the kind of change I been wanting to make.”
“What kind of change, Pa?” asked Becky.
“Just hear me out, girl, and I’ll tell you.”
Pa took another drink of his coffee, then set it down and looked all around the table at each of us.
“What kind of work do I love more than anything, Almeda?” he asked.
“Anything, Drummond,” she answered, “anything that’s working with your hands—probably working the mine.”
“You got that right,” rejoined Pa. “And I ain’t had the chance to do what I like best in years.
“I tell you, Christopher,” Pa went on, looking over toward him, “you want to know what kind of a man I am, well, I’ll tell you—I’m happiest when I’m working for myself, working hard, and working with my hands. But Alkali’s getting too old for mining. Matter of fact, Alkali’s getting too dad-blamed old for just about anything! And Nick’s time’s mostly taken up with his family and them hogs and cat
tle he keeps thinking he can raise—but actually he’s doing a pretty fair job of it. And besides that, our mine played itself out years ago.
“So you see what I’m saying—there just hasn’t been much place for me to do the kind of work I like. I reckon some folks might think when a man gets to be my age, he oughta take life a little easier. But I miss it. I miss the hard work. I miss digging gold out of that hill up there. I miss the excitement of always thinking there’s gonna be some new vein just where you slammed the end of your pick into the earth. Ain’t nothing quite so exciting as mining for gold, Christopher—nothing I ever done, at least. I don’t want to take it easy, I want to work all the harder. I got too many good years left in this body of mine to let it waste away surrounded by fancy clothes and speechmaking in Sacramento.
“So what I’ve decided is this: I ain’t gonna run for reelection this year. I’m gonna call it quits to my political career—”
Before he could say any more, exclamations burst out all around the table—more of surprise than anything.
Zack, I think, might have been disappointed at first, because he was proud of Pa.
Almeda and Tad, on the other hand, couldn’t hide their immediate reactions in the opposite direction. Neither of them had ever had enough of Pa, and his being around more meant nothing but good news to them!
And Christopher didn’t quite know what to think.
Chapter 34
Pa’s Proposed Partnership
Now simmer down, all of you!” laughed Pa as everyone kept talking among themselves about what he’d just said. “Just let me finish.
“What I’m thinking is—seems like this is the perfect time to start thinking about setting in a new mine over on the other side of the mountain. Then by the summertime, when I’m through in Sacramento, the four of us men can get serious about exploring for that vein we’ve always known came out that side someplace.”
Now the exclamations from Tad and Zack were unmistakable! A whoop or two and a shout, and then they were both talking at once.
A Home for the Heart Page 17