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Friday, March 15, 2024

Bless Her Heart

 Good morning!

Happy March! Today I have a story that NONE of you have read. This story was just something I sat down and wrote. I had the first line in my head and then sort of knew the ending, but I wasn't sure what happened. It's not a long story. And no, I didn't ask any of my Southern friends for help with the accents, so if I didn't get them write, blame me. :)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little piece.

 

Bless Her Heart


    “Ya’ll gottta do somethin’ with him, honey. He ain’t like other boys.”
    Mrs. Thornton smiled at Mrs. Holland’s well meaning words as she looked over at Jared. She was right. Jared wasn’t like other boys his age. He was hurt, angry, afraid.
    “My husband says,” Mrs. Angelina added, her southern accent just as strong as Mrs. Holland’s, “what that boy needs is a strong hand and a good lickin’. Of course, we ain’t blamin’ ya’ll, honey.  Why bless yer heart! We know you ain’t got the strength ta do it, you bein’ such a little thing yerself, and your husband bein’ out a town. Someone’s got ta take that boy in hand though. My husband said he don’t like mixin’ in other folks business, but under the circumstances, ya’ll understand, he’d come over any time and tend to the boy. Ya’ll jest give him a call, honey.”
    Mrs. Thornton opened her mouth but was given no chance to reply.
    “Now don’t you go an’ thank me,” Mrs. Angelina went on. “It’s the least we can do after ya’ll took in that poor orphan. Why bless your heart!”
    “And,” Mrs. Holland added, “if her Robert ain’t around when ya’ll need him, honey, my Albin won’t mind bein’ called. He knows all about boys. We had two of ‘em. Big, strong, strappin’ fellows they are too. Albin may be retired, ya’ll know, but I reckon he could still handle a boy like that one, bless his heart.” Mrs. Holland nodded in Jared’s direction.
    It was all Mrs. Thornton could do to keep her face and voice calm. “Thank you both, but I won’t be calling on your husbands for such service. Now if you’ll excuse me please, I think it’s time Jared and I headed home.”
    Both ladies murmured polite good-byes, but Mrs. Thornton heard one of them say to the other as she walked away, “Bless her heart, she doesn’t know how to deal with a boy like him.”
    “I know. Bless her heart.”
    “Lord, I didn’t know I’d need so much patience just for a visit to the park.” Mrs. Thornton gave an inward sigh and walked over to where Jared was standing sullenly by the swing set staring at the ground. Gently she brushed his shoulder with her hand. “Let’s walk home along the path by the stream, shall we?”
    Without a word, the boy turned and shuffled off beside her, his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets.
    Jared hadn’t always been like this, Marissa Thornton remembered. No, her nephew used to be a happy baby and a bright toddler. Then he lost his mother, and his father turned to drink to ease his pain, instead of to the Lord. This had wrecked the happy home the boy had lived in, and he faced hunger, cold, and his father’s quick temper. As Jared’s only living relatives, the Thorntons had opened their home to the boy when his own father had ended up dead. They were determined to show him a home filled with Christ’s love.
    It wasn’t easy. Jared often lashed out in anger when he didn’t understand or felt threatened, but never once had his new family lifted a hand against him or raised a voice in anger. Noah and Mariah prayed and loved and prayed some more. No one else seemed to understand what the boy had been through. They offered well meaning advice, but Mariah knew the scars that Jared bore were not just on his body, but on his heart as well.
    Walking along the path, Mariah was silent. Her heart was angered over the women’s comments and aching for some sign of love from the boy she now called her son.
    “Jared, look!” she whispered, leaning closer to him and pointing.
    Down by the creek a mother deer stood with her fawn. Neither acted afraid or even nervous at being watched by the silent humans on the path near them. They drank from the trickling water and then picked their way back into the woods and disappeared.
    “They weren’t afraid of us,” Mariah breathed.
    Jared looked up. “You wouldn’t hurt them.” The words were a statement, casual and calm. Then Jared did something he’d never done since he had come to live with his aunt and uncle. He slipped his hand into Mariah’s.
    Tears blurred Mariah’s vision as she gave the hand a gentle squeeze.
    Neither one said a word the rest of the way home.

*


    “Mama.”
    The quiet voice roused Mariah Thornton from her dreams. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the tall manly form sitting beside her bed. “Jared. What are you doing here?”
    His gentle fingers rested on her wrist a moment. “How are you feeling, Mama? Dad said you weren’t well.”
    “I’m all right, son. I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I ate too many of my granddaughter’s cookies.” Her eyes held mirth. “And then I got to remembering and fell asleep.”
    Jared’s hand held her old, wrinkled one. “Remembering what?”
    “Many years ago. It must have been a few months after you came to us. We had gone to the park. Dad was out of town. We saw the deer when we walked home.”
    “I remember that day.”
    “You do?” Mariah turned surprised eyes to the man sitting near her.
    “Yes. I overheard what those ladies were telling you.”
    “Oh, Jared!”
    “And,” he went on, his thumb gently rubbing her hand, “I heard what you told them. It was the first time that I felt sure I was safe. Thank you, Mama.”
    “For what?”
    “For taking me in. For seeing behind my anger to the hurt little boy that I was, and loving me. You and Dad never gave up on me. You prayed and hoped and believed, and most of all, you showed me Christ. For that I can never thank you enough.”
    Mrs. Thornton raised a hand to her son’s face. “Oh, Jared, I thank God every day for you and for your sweet and lovely wife, and for the grandchildren who brighten my days.” She started to sit up. “Now, it’s time I got up out of this bed.”
    “Not yet, Mama,” Jared said, a smile on his lips but a firm look in his eyes as he eased her back. “Dad was talking about taking you to the hospital, but he agreed to let me look at you first. You have him worried.”
    Mrs. Thornton smiled. “Dad’s always worrying over me, son.” Her eyes began to twinkle. “Or maybe he just uses it as an excuse for you to put in practice all those things you learned in medical school. Well, you needn’t bother. I’m just fine now. Just the sight of your face and the feel of your hand slipping into mine like it did so many years ago makes me feel better.”
    Jared smiled, kissed her cheek, and said, “Nevertheless . . .”


Did you enjoy this story?
Has anyone ever given you advice you didn't want?
How did you handle it?

Friday, February 9, 2024

Roses for Minnie

 

 

Roses for Minnie


Dedication
To Angie’s niece who wanted a story for her red fish.



    Four-year-old Minnie sat in dismal heap at the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t want to play with Ronnie when he started to build a farm for their toy animals. She wasn’t interested in listening to Lacey reading stories to little Willow. She wasn’t even interested in helping Mom make muffins for supper.
    Daddy paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at the forlorn little heap. He wondered what was making his little girl so sad. “What’s the matter, Minnie Joy?”
    “Oh, Daddy, I want one too, but Uncle Dale said it might die over here.”
    Daddy sat down on the stairs and patted the step beside him. “Come tell me all about it.”
    With a sigh, Minnie got up and sat down beside Daddy. She leaned against him and thought he was the nicest Daddy ever. He listened to her troubles. Her friend Jaina said her daddy was too busy.
    “What has Uncle Dale got that you want?”
    “A fish, Daddy. A beautiful red fish that swims in the water. Uncle Dale has one and he showed it to me. But he said I couldn’t hold it. I would have been very careful.”
    Daddy gave a little cough. “Fish can’t live out of water, Minnie,” he explained. “They die if they can’t be in water. That’s how they breath. God made fish to breath in water and people and other animals to breath air.”
    A little frown puckered Minnie’s forehead. “I could hold him in the water then, couldn’t I?”
    “Probably not. They have to swim and would get scared if you held them still. They aren’t like kittens or puppies.”
    “But I would be gentle and wouldn’t let Willow or even Robbie hold him. Can’t I have a fish, Daddy? A red one like Uncle Dale’s?”
    Daddy shook his head slowly. “Fish have to be fed, and their tanks have to be cleaned out just right or they will get sick. And we don’t have any place to keep a fish that wouldn’t be in danger of getting knocked over. No, Minnie, I’m sorry but I don’t think a real fish would be good. But--” He looked down at the sad face of his little girl. “Perhaps you can still have a fish.”
    “A red one, Daddy? With two tails?”
    “Two tails?”
    “Yes! Uncle Dale’s fish has two tails.” Minnie looked up into her daddy’s face. “What kind of fish could I have? Would it have to live in water? Could I take it to show Grandma?”
    “Hang on just a minute.” Daddy pulled his phone out and send a message on it. “This kind of fish I’m think about,” he said as he rested his phone on his knee, “is the kind of fish you could take to Grandma’s, you wouldn’t have to feed it or let it live in water. You could name it and--”
    “Could I tell it stories, Daddy? Would it listen to me tell it stories?”
    “Yes, Minnie, you could tell it stories.” Daddy’s phone buzzed and Daddy picked it up, looked at the screen and then typed something on it. He stood up. “All right, Minnie Joy, do you want to wait there while I make your fish, or do you want to come watch me?”
    Minnie’s eyes grew wide. Daddy was going to make her a fish? “I want to watch!”
    She scrambled to her feet and seized her daddy’s hand. Together they went up stairs to his office.
    Daddy got out a nice, white sheet of paper. It wasn’t just one from the printer like Mommy sometimes gave Minnie and Ronnie to use. This was a from a package in Daddy’s desk. Then Daddy got out a black marker and a red one from his special set that he used for making pictures for people who wrote books.
    Minnie’s eyes grew wider.
    Daddy sat down at his desk. “Hmm. A red fish with two tails.” He looked at his phone again, and this time Minnie saw a picture of Uncle Dale’s fish.
    Was Daddy going to make a fish like that? For her?
    A few quick lines with the black marker, and then some quick but careful lines with the red and there it was! A red fish with two tails just like Uncle Dale’s! Only this one was for her! It didn’t have to live in the water! She didn’t have to feed it, and she could hold it!
    “What do you think, Minnie?” Daddy held up the picture. “Do you think that would be a good fish to have?”
    “Oh, yes, Daddy! Is he for me? For my very, very own? Can I name him?”
    “Yes, Minnie, he’s yours. And I think he needs a name.” Daddy handed Minnie the picture.
    For several seconds Minnie just gazed in wonder at the fish that was all hers. What would she name it? It had to be a good name. Her forehead wrinkled a little as she thought hard.
    Daddy put his markers away. “Did you think of a name yet?”
    Minnie nodded slowly, her eyes still on the picture. “I think his name should be Roses.”
    “Roses?” Daddy blinked. “Why that name?”
    “Because, he’s the same color of the roses you got Mommy and she loved them as much as I love my fish! Oh, thank you, Daddy!” She flung her arms around her daddy’s legs because she couldn’t reach any higher, and hugged him. “Thank you for making Roses for me. We’re going to be best of friends!”
    And they were. Roses went everywhere with Minnie for several years. She told her secrets to Roses, and sang to him. She shared him with Willow, and carefully placed him on her dresser each night at bedtime. And even though the paper grew some was dirty and torn around the edges, Minnie still loved the fish. When she grew older, she tucked him into a safe place where he wouldn’t get lost and many, many years later, she found him again, and smiled at the memory of her Daddy making a special fish just for her because he loved her.

The End


What would you name a fish?
Have you ever had a pet fish?

Friday, January 12, 2024

The Argument

 

 

Argument


    “Why is it always you?” Annie glared at her cousin.
    “Why not me? Would you rather have it be some nefarious person who wants to steal your gold and silver, eat all your cookies, and run away with your mink coat?”
    Annie rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a mink coat. I don’t have any gold and silver in this apartment, and there won’t be any cookies for him to eat because you’ll eat them all.”
    Harrison grinned and picked up another cookie. “That’s because Beth can’t make cookies like you. Don’t you want to teach her how?”
    “I tried.”
    “But not for days and days.”
    “Harrison,” Annie put a hand on her hip and looked at her cousin as though he was some little boy caught in mischief. “I spent a week with Beth. I tried to teach her to cook, to bake cookies, to do more than eat cereal, cook frozen pizzas in the microwave, and eat ice cream out of the carton. It didn’t do any good.”
    “Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.” He reached for another cookie. “Or maybe she wasn’t desperate enough.”
    “Or maybe she just doesn’t want to learn. Really, Harrison. If you want good cooking, maybe you should learn to do it yourself, or find somewhere else to live.”
    “But Beth’s my sister.”
    “I know. And you’re my cousin. And so is Beth. But I don’t have the money or patience to keep feeding you, Harrison! This is the third time this week you’ve appeared at my door, come in and started eating my food.”
    Harrison reached into his pocket pulled out some money and slapped it down on the counter. “I’ll hire you.”
    “Do do what?” Annie’s voice dripped with suspicion.
    “Cook for us.”
    “Cook for you?”
    “Yes. Come on, Annie. It’s not like that part time job you have makes you a lot of money or takes up all your time. And if you are making food for yourself anyway, why not make a little extra for us?”
    “A little extra? Do you know how much you eat? And what will Beth say to that idea?”
    Harrison shrugged. “She won’t care if she doesn't have to cook.”
    “I’m not washing your dishes.”
    “We can do that. Beth may not like it, but she can at least wash them. That doesn’t require any concentration, and she can dream of the next picture she is going to paint.”
    Annie shook her head. “Really, Harrison, isn’t she ever going to do something that earns some money? She’s been dabbling in painting for close to two years now. Has she ever sold anything?”
    “Only to me and a few friends.” He shrugged. “She likes to paint, and I don’t mind. I make enough for both of us.”
    “Yeah, but what happens to her if you lose your job?”
    “I’ll get another one.”
    “What if you die?” Annie had been longing to say some plain truths to this happy-go-lucky cousin of hers for months, and she suddenly felt like now was the time.
    “I have a life insurance policy.”
    Annie rolled her eyes. It was clearly going to take more work to open his eyes. She leaned on the other side of the island and looked him square in the eye. “And what if you get married and your wife doesn’t like a fee loader living with you?”
    “She’s not a free-loader!”
    “Oh?” Annie’s eyebrows rose. “Just what does she do? She doesn’t cook. She doesn’t clean the house. I know because I’ve been there and done it for you. She doesn’t wash the dishes. Does she do the laundry? Take care of the garden? Manage the bills and finances?” With each question she watched her cousin shake his head just a little. “Then what does she do? Tell me.”
    He shrugged. “She’s . . . she’s a companion.”
    “Ha!” Annie pushed back from the island and straightened. “Elizabeth Hand is no more a companion than I am a. . . . a . . . bank president! Does she read to you?”
    “No. I sometimes read to her.”
    “Uh huh. Does she converse at breakfast? Dinner?”
    Harrison looked puzzled. “We just eat. Why should we talk?”
    “Harrison, listen to me.”
    “I am listening, Annie, but I don’t understand what you want me to listen to.”
    “Just be quiet and listen!”
    Harrison folded his arms on the counter and focused his whole attention on Annie.
    “You just admitted that Beth does nothing to help with anything about the house, doesn’t do anything a companion would do, and doesn’t make any money to contribute to the expenses of the house. No,” she put in quickly, lifting her hand as her cousin was about to speak. “I’m not done. If you were to get married, she would either have to live with you, and your wife would have to put up with someone who didn’t do one bit of work around the house but only made more work. Or, what if someone wanted to marry Beth?”
    “That would be great!”
    “Would it?” Annie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She couldn’t cook for her husband, clean his house, do his laundry, take care of the bills, mow the yard. or even be very companionable. How long do you think that marriage would last?”
    “Well--”
    “Do you think that you are helping her, Harrison? Helping her be a godly woman? A woman who looks well to the ways of her household? A woman who could love her husband, love her children, and be a keeper at home? And if she did get married, and her husband was an incredibly unselfish man who was willing to do all the work at home and his own work, and if they had children, do you think Beth would be able to take care of them? Has she ever babysat? Held a baby? And what about feeding them, cleaning up after them, doing their laundry, keeping the house clean so someone doesn’t call Child Protective Services on them? Could she do it?”
    “Oh, she could.”
    “Would she even know how?”
    “I was going to pay you to teach her.”
    “No you weren’t. You were going to pay me to cook for you. Yes, you were going to insist that she wash the dishes, though I have a feeling that you’d do them because she would be busy painting again, but that’s not the same as her learning.”
    “But she’s my sister, and I’m supposed to love her.”
    “Is it loving to let her remain a selfish, spoiled, self-seeking, ignorant person?”
    “That’s not very nice, Annie.”
    “Truth isn’t always nice, Harrison. I’ve watched and prayed that you would wake up and see what is going on and how Beth has manipulated you into letting her do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and however she wants, but you just wouldn’t open your eyes. I will cook for you on one condition.”
    “What’s that?”
    “That you start acting like an older brother who cares more about his little sister’s spiritual well being than you do about making life a bed of thornless roses for her.”
    “Ouch.”
    Annie didn’t reply but stood and watched him.
    For several minutes, Harrison sat and stared at the counter. His fingers pushed a few cookie crumbs around, and he frowned, sighed, frowned again, and finally looked up. “You’re right. I hate to admit it, but you are. And I’ll agree to it because I realize that you are right. Thank you for saying something.”
    “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I had to be so harsh.”
    “It was necessary.” He stood up. “I’m hard headed.”
    “You sure are.”

What did you think?
Have you ever wanted to tell someone some plain, hard truths?
Do you enjoy conversations in books?

Sunday, December 24, 2023

To All People - Part 3

 Happy Christmas Eve!

    Here's the final part of the Christmas play story. I hope you enjoy it. The final line was from the one who played Tiny. He just said it on our last practice and we loved it so much we told him to say it for the performance. He did and the laughter from the audience was great!


To All People - Part 3

            Before the sun was fully up on Christmas Morning, Tiny came into town with a beautiful Christmas tree. Mrs. Crawford and Kate brought strands of popped corn, and Mr. Kockenbrock arrived with a star he had fashioned out of wood. Deputy Moreland and his wife appeared bringing some cookies to hang on the tree. And then, one by one, the other town-folk arrived.

            Sheriff Kassen opened his Bible and began to read. “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.” He handed the Bible to Mrs. Stokes.

            “And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.” As she read, Mrs. Nelson handed Baby to Kate, and with Charlie standing with a stick in his hand as Joseph, they presented a lovely picture of that first Christmas. “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.” She handed the Bible to Mrs. Crawford.

            “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.” With a smile at Tiny, she handed the Bible to him.

            “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.” Wiping away a tear, the rough looking mountain man passed the Book to Mrs. Moreland.

            “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.”

            Deputy Moreland took the Bible and finished the story. “And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.” Gently he closed the Book.

            For a moment no one moved. Then Tiny said slowly, “I thank ya folks fer lettin’ me be a part a this here Christmas service. I ain’t celebrated Christmas with other folks for nigh on to twenty years, an’ its done my heart right good ta do it this year.”

            “We’re glad you came and joined us,” Mrs. Crawford said.

            Mrs. Nelson took back her baby, and Kate rejoined her mother.

            Sheriff Kassen held out his hand to the man who had been a stranger. “Many of us had doubts about you, but our Lord offered His salvation to everyone, and we are not above our Lord. You are welcome to join us any Christmas.”

            Mr. Kockenbrock nodded. “Merry Christmas, everyone! Mrs. Fisher, will you have those flapjacks soon?”

            With a smile, Mrs. Fisher nodded. “How about right now and everyone is invited.”

            There were many smiles and Christmas greetings as the town folk began to make their way toward the boarding house taking time to stop and greet the mountain man who was no longer someone to be afraid of.

            As Tiny shook hands with Mr. Kockenbrock, he tipped his head and asked, “What’s a flapjack?”

 

And there you are.

Did you enjoy it?

Maybe I'll share a few other short stories soon.

Once I wrote and shared at KDWC.

Saturday, December 23, 2023

To All People - Part 2

 Hello again!

    Here's the next part of the Christmas story I wrote for the church play. Enjoy!


To All People - Part 2

That evening the town-folk gathered around the sheriff with questions about the man.

            Lifting his hands, Sheriff Kassen quieted everyone. “Hold it! Just listen a minute. I wasn’t able to find out anything about that man. He didn’t leave tracks enough to follow. That could mean he’s just a mountain man who knows how to move without being followed, or–” He let his sentence hang unfinished in the air.

            Some of the women moved closer together.

            “Since most of our men are off getting supplies for the town, I think it would be best if we joined forces during the nights so that none of you ladies are alone without protection in case of . . . well, just in case. Mrs. Nelson, you stay with Deputy Moreland and his wife. Mrs. Fisher, do you have room in your boarding house for myself, Mrs. Stokes and Charlie, Mrs. Crawford and Miss Kate?”

            “Of course!”

            “Sheriff,” Mrs. Crawford protested. “I really think we are letting our imaginations run away with us. The man might just be looking to spend Christmas with someone, and–”

            “Or” Sheriff Kassen interrupted, “he might be the leader of a gang of outlaws I’ve heard about who come into town on Christmas Day and rob it.”

            Many of the ladies gasped.

            “Wherever did you hear that?” Mrs. Crawford asked.

            “Newspaper. Back east. Now as I was saying–”

            “Well, Sheriff,” Kockenbrock remarked, “tomorrow ain’t Christmas.”

            With a thoughtful frown, the sheriff stroked his mustache. “True,” he admitted at last. “If any of you ladies wish to remain in your own homes tonight, you may do so, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

            As Mrs. Crawford and her daughter walked away to their own home, Kate asked, “Mama, are you sure it’s safe to stay home alone?”

            “We won’t be alone, Kate,” Mrs. Crawford said, putting an arm around her daughter. “Remember, our Heavenly Father has promised to never leave us nor forsake us. Besides, I don’t think that man would have said he had come down for Christmas if he was an outlaw, do you?”

 

*

 

            The sun rose in a clear sky, offering hope and joy for Christmas Eve day, but Sheriff Kassen didn’t notice. He stood on the street with one hand on his six-shooter and a stern look on his face.

            “Mornin’, Sheriff!” Deputy Moreland greeted him as he strolled up. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

            The sheriff grunted what might have been “good morning” or might have been something else.

            Deputy Moreland went on. “All was quiet last night like Mrs. Crawford thought. How’d you sleep?”

            “I didn’t,” Sheriff Kassen growled. “I found the man’s campsite and kept watch.”

            “What did you find out?

            A cheery whistle sounded before the sheriff could reply, and Mr. Kockenbrock strolled by, pausing to remark, “Mrs. Fisher said she’d make flapjacks tomorrow! Nothing like flapjacks on Christmas morning.” Giving a sigh that changed to a whistle, the man wandered off.

            Deputy Moreland turned back to the sheriff, “And you found out what?”

            Sheriff Kassen opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted again. This time by Mrs. Crawford and Kate.

            “Good morning, Sheriff, Deputy Moreland. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

            “It sure is,” Deputy Moreland said, nodding with a smile.

            “Oh, Deputy Moreland, do you know if your wife still wants that sugar? And Sheriff, do you think we could ask Mr. Kockenbrock about getting a Christmas tree this year, or were you or Deputy Moreland planning on getting one?”

            “Mrs. Crawford, please!” Sheriff Kassen exclaimed. “We have a situation on our hands. Now is not the time to be thinking about things like Christmas trees!”

            “What situation is that, Sheriff? Tomorrow is Christmas, you remember.”

            “Of course I do, but that man is still around!”

            Kate turned to her mother. “Mama, do you think he’d like some cookies too?”

            “I’m sure he would, Kate.” Mrs. Crawford turned to the sheriff. “Do you know where he stayed? Perhaps Kate and I could–”

            “Ma’am, this is a highly sensitive situation. It would be best if you left all things regarding this stranger in the hands of the law.”

            Mrs. Crawford smiled sweetly. “I’m not trying to do your job for you, Sheriff, but just remember that the angels did announce good tidings of great joy to all people. Come along, Kate, I see Mrs. Stokes. Perhaps she has come for those buttons.”

            With a nod to the sheriff and his deputy, Mrs. Crawford and her daughter hurried away to the store.

            Deputy Moreland turned once more to the sheriff. “DID you find anything out?”

            “Nothing much. He kept his fire going all night.”

            “It was cold out last night.”

            The sheriff grunted.

            Just then the mountain man appeared in the streets.

            “We could be in for trouble,” Sheriff Kassen muttered to his deputy. “Keep your eyes open.”

            “Yes, sir.” Then, with a sigh, Deputy Moreland pushed back his hat and scratched his head.

 

*

 

            “I tell you,” Mrs. Stokes exclaimed, “I hardly slept a wink last night!”

            “Me either,” Mrs. Fisher agreed.

            The little general store had once again become the meeting place for the women of Western, and there they gathered to compare thoughts and voice their opinions of the stranger who had arrived.

            “I don’t think my husband was worried,” Mrs. Moreland said, “I could hear him snoring in the front room. Of course he wakes right up if so much as the cat enters the room, but still–” She shook her head.

            Mrs. Nelson said nothing but shifted her baby and patted his back.

            Mrs. Stokes spoke again. “I think something should be done. The man is obviously not to be trusted, and I’m sure I won’t have a moment’s rest until he is gone.”

            “Now really,” Mrs. Crawford began.

            “I agree,” Mrs. Moreland said, “we don’t want an outlaw lurking around our town during Christmas.”

            “Perhaps we can get Sheriff Kassen to–” Mrs. Fisher broke off as the stranger appeared in the street before the store.

            He paused, hesitated, and then walked to the door, opened it and stepped inside. As though parted by an invisible force, the ladies moved to either side of the store and almost held their breath.

            “Good morning,” Mrs. Crawford greeted the man with a smile. “Merry Christmas Eve. What can I get for you today?”

            “Cinnamon sticks.”

            “Of course. How many would you like?”

            “Jest two. Ain’t had none fer nigh on seven years.”

            Mrs. Crawford pulled out the spicy rolls of cinnamon bark. “What brings you to our little town?”

            “Christmas.” The man paid for his cinnamon.

            “How nice.”

            The man nodded then coughed a little and shifted.

            “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mrs. Crawford inquired.

            “I reckon maybe. Do ya folks have yer Christmas readin’ this evenin’ or in the mornin’?”

            “Oh, we have it on Christmas morning. I do hope you plan to be there.” There was no mistaking the earnestness of Mrs. Crawford’s voice.

            “I reckon I will.” Then, without another word, the man turned and left the shop.

            Hardly had he gone when Sheriff Kassen rushed in. “Are you ladies all right? Did he try to steal anything, Mrs. Crawford?”

            “What? Of course not!”

            Mrs. Stokes hurried over. “Sheriff, you must do something and get rid of that man! I’m sure he’s an outlaw!”

            “We heard he killed a few men up in Canada,” Mrs. Fisher put in, “and escaped to these mountains.”

            “And,” Mrs. Moreland added, “he’s the leader of a band of outlaws who have robbed stagecoaches and banks.”

            “Please, Sheriff,” Mrs. Nelson begged, “he frightens me!”

            “I suppose I could tell him he wasn’t welcome here any longer,” Sheriff Kassen began. “But that might make him angry enough to do more than rob us tomorrow.”

            “Sheriff Kassen!” Mrs. Crawford marched around the counter her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you! What proof do any of you have that the man who was just in here is a murderer, thief, outlaw, or has plans to rob us on Christmas morning?”     

            Silence answered her.

            “None of you have any sort of proof. It’s all just wild imaginations, speculations, and prejudice. Why, he as much as said he was planning on coming to the Christmas service in the morning. And didn’t God send His angels to proclaim the good news and the great joy to ALL men when Jesus was born? Didn’t that mean everyone? And didn’t the angels also proclaim peace on earth and good will toward men?”

            “But,” Mrs. Nelson said, “he doesn’t talk like we do.”

            “And he looks dirty,” Mrs. Moreland put in.

            “And he’s so tall,” Mrs. Fisher added.

            “And he has a bad reputation,” Mrs. Stokes reminded them.

            “Does John 3:16 say that God loves those who have good reputations?” Mrs. Crawford shook her head, and her voice grew gentler. “I know he’s different, but don’t you think the shepherds were dirty, and maybe talked differently, or looked differently? Did that stop the good news of our Savior’s birth from being shared with them?” She looked around the store, but no one would meet her eyes. “Kate, mind the store for me a few minutes please.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Mrs. Crawford,” Sheriff Kassen asked, “where are you going?”

            “To ask Mr. Tiny if he would bring us a Christmas tree to decorate for tomorrow. If I can find him.”

            “He’s right over there, ma’am,” Deputy Moreland pointed from the open door.

            With only a nod to him, Mrs. Crawford hurried away.

            Sheriff Kassen stepped from the shop and frowned at his deputy. “I thought I ordered you to keep an eye on that man.”

            “I have been. He hasn’t gone very far.” He pointed to the tall man Mrs. Crawford was now talking to before the next shop.

            With a sigh, the sheriff shook his head. “Do I trust the rumors, Moreland, or try to believe the best of him?”

            “Let’s believe the best, sir,” Deputy Moreland suggested. “Since we can’t prove the rumors are anything except stories.”

 

 The final part will be posted tomorrow.

Are you ready for Christmas?

I can't seem to realize it's coming so soon!

Friday, December 22, 2023

To All People - Part 1

 Good morning!

    I thought you all might enjoy reading the story that I turned into this year's Christmas play for church.


To All People

 

            The sun was just coming up and kissing the peaks of the western mountains with a soft halo of light. The cold morning air spoke of winter, and the faint breeze stirred a scent of pine and whispered of Christmas. Far up on the rocky mountain where towering trees and large rocks guarded a sheer drop into the valley below, a man appeared. He was silent and rugged like the mountains he lived in, and his face was kept warm by a shaggy beard while a hat was pulled down low over his head.

            For a minute he stood, his gaze sweeping the still dark valley that the sun hadn’t yet awakened, and seeming to take in every detail of the little town below him. Then he glanced up at the sky, and without a sound, he disappeared behind the rocks and trees.

 

            As the sun climbed higher, chasing away the last few stars and tinging the sky with pink and orange, gold and purple, the town of Western awoke. Who could sleep when Christmas Eve was the next day?

            The blacksmith, whistling as he strode across the street, lifted a hand in greeting to Sheriff Kassen and nodded to Mrs. Crawford and her daughter.

            “Good morning, Sheriff,” Mrs. Crawford said with a smile.

            “Mornin’, ma’am, Miss Kate. I reckon it will be a fine day today.”

            “It sure is looking that way with the beautiful sunrise. A perfect morning for almost Christmas.”

            Deputy Moreland, his rifle cradled in one arm and his wife’s hand resting on his other arm, joined them. “Morning, Sheriff. Ladies.” Deputy Moreland nodded his head.

            “Mrs. Crawford,” Mrs. Moreland said, “do you have some sugar still? I thought I’d bake some cookies since it’s almost Christmas.”

            Mrs. Crawford nodded. “I do. Kate and I were unpacking the last boxes yesterday. Would you like to get some now?”

            “Yes, I would.”

            As the ladies turned toward the general store, Mrs. Nelson with her baby in her arms, and Mrs. Stokes came down the street.

            “Oh, Mrs. Crawford!” Mrs. Stokes called, hurrying forward.

            Stopping, Mrs. Crawford, Kate, and Mrs. Moreland waited.

            “Good morning, Sheriff, Deputy Moreland,” Mrs. Stokes said quickly. “Mrs. Crawford, I need some buttons. Charlie has lost two off his shirt just this week. Boys are so hard on their clothes. I was hoping you would have something so that he could have a whole shirt for Christmas.”

            Mrs. Crawford looked thoughtful. “Well . . .”

            “Oh, Mama,” Kate broke in, “remember that bag of buttons I discovered under the counter last week? I’m sure there will be something in there.”

            “I had forgotten that. Mrs. Stokes, I’m sure we have some.” And Mrs. Crawford looked relieved. “Mrs. Nelson, how is Baby doing?”

            “He is fine.” Mrs. Nelson pulled back the blanket a little as the ladies gathered to look. “I just wish Husband was home.”

            “I know,” Mrs. Crawford said gently. “It is hard to celebrate Christmas with the men folk being gone. But they will be back with more supplies in only a few more weeks, I’m quite sure.”

            Still talking, the ladies wandered down the street toward the general store leaving Sheriff Kassen and his deputy together.

            “Well, Sheriff,” Deputy Moreland said, “I suppose it will be another slow day for us.”

            “I reckon.”

            The quiet of the morning was interrupted by an excited shout, and Charlie rushed up. “Sheriff! Sheriff!”

            “Charlie!” Mrs. Stokes exclaimed, as the ladies turned and quickly rejoined the two representatives of the law. “What is going on? What is wrong?”

            “Did you see a bear?” Mrs. Moreland asked with a smile.

            Charlie shook his head and gasped out, “A . . . giant! . . . From the . . . mountain!”

            “A giant?” Deputy Moreland echoed with raised eyebrows and a skeptical look.

            “Take a breath, Charlie,” Sheriff Kassen ordered. “Now, what exactly did you see?”

            Drawing a deep breath, Charlie let it out with a flood of words. “I saw the man of the mountain! He’s a giant, and he’s coming here!”

            “Are you making this up, Charlie?” Sheriff Kassen demanded sternly.

            “No, sir!”

            Before anyone else could say a word, Mrs. Fisher rushed up. “Sheriff, you’ll have to do something! I saw him, and he is a giant! I thought he was a bear at first, but he’s a man. At least I think he is. And he’s coming here!”

            “The mountain man?” Sheriff Kassen asked, reaching for his six-gun while his deputy shifted his rifle to his hands.

            Mrs. Fisher nodded, clinging to Mrs. Moreland.

            “Ladies, if you would clear the streets, we’ll handle things. Charlie, go along too.”

            “Come along to the store,” Mrs. Crawford offered and led the way.

            When the ladies had disappeared, Deputy Moreland turned to the sheriff, “Should we get Kockenbrock to join us?”

            “What for?”

            “Well–”

            There was no time for Deputy Moreland to finish his thought, for just then a large person clad in the garb of a man used to living alone in the mountains, and with a bushy beard and shaggy hair, appeared. He stopped short when he saw Sheriff Kassen and his deputy, but he didn’t speak.

            There was a long silence as the three men seemed to size each other up.

            A cheerful whistle broke the silence and Mr. Kockenbrock strolled casually up. “Need some water. Forgot to get some this morning.” He looked over at the stranger. “Mornin’. Have you tried Mrs. Fisher’s flapjacks?” Without waiting for an answer, the absentminded blacksmith continued on.

            The interruption seemed to rouse the sheriff, for he demanded, “What’s your name? And what brings you to our town?”

            “Tiny. Christmas.” The stranger’s words were rather quiet.

            “You came here for Christmas?” Sheriff Kassen questioned.

            The man gave a slight nod but said nothing.

            “Humph,” the sheriff grunted as he stared at the giant of a man. “Where are you from?”

            “Up yonder,” and the man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

            “You come alone?”

            “Yep.”

            Sheriff Kassen took a few steps closer and stared up into the man’s face. “Well now, you listen to me. I want no trouble from you, ya hear me? You come into my town, you got to behave yerself. Understand?”

            The man gave a short nod and then walked past the lawmen and continued down the road, pausing now and then to peer at a sign above a building or gaze into a shop window.

            Sheriff Kassen frowned after him. “I don’t like this, Moreland. I don’t like this one bit.”

            “Do you know anything about him, Sheriff?”

            “No. But I aim to find out what he’s up to.”

            “He said he came down for Christmas.”

            The sheriff grunted. “A likely story. Keep an eye on him, Deputy.”

            “Sure thing. But where are you going, Sheriff?”

            After a quick glance around, the sheriff said, “I reckon I’ll jest take a look from where he came from. Don’t want to be surprised if’n he’s got friends.” With a firm slap on his holstered gun, Sheriff Kassen hurried off in the direction the mountain man had come from.

            Alone, Deputy Moreland shook his head. “I wonder what’s going to happen.” With a sigh, he cradled his rifle again and set off after the strange man from the mountains.

 

*

 

            Inside the general store, the ladies were gathered near the window hoping, yet dreading, to catch a glimpse of the stranger Charlie and Mrs. Fisher had seen.

            “I’ve heard of the man in the mountains before,” Mrs. Moreland remarked. “Some say he’s got a gold mine up there, but he doesn’t mine it and shoots anyone who comes near.”

            “If that were the case,” Mrs. Crawford replied calmly, “why would he leave it and come down to town?”

            “I heard,” Mrs. Fisher said, “that he came down from Canada to escape the law up there.”

            “Is he an outlaw?” asked Mrs. Nelson, backing away from the window and holding her baby closer.

            “If he is wanted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, he must be!” And Mrs. Stokes shook her head. “I wonder if he’s a member of that band of outlaws who were terrorizing the West a number of years ago. I don’t think they ever caught them all.”

            Mrs. Fisher turned from the window to look at her friend. “Were they from Canada?”

            “I don’t know, but they might have been. There are hundreds of miles between the two countries, and they can’t all be watched at once.”

            Mrs. Crawford tried to protest. “Ladies, we don’t know anything about the man.”

            “I overheard my husband and the sheriff talking one night,” Mrs. Moreland said, ignoring Mrs. Crawford. “They were talking about some outlaw leader who must be nearly seven feet tall, and he always goes into a town alone first before the rest of his gang come in and rob it.”

            Mrs. Nelson and Kate gasped.

            “I . . . I . . .” Kate stamKated, “I don’t think I like that man.”

            “And I heard–” Mrs. Fisher began.

            “Ladies!” Mrs. Crawford exclaimed more loudly this time. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we–” She got no farther.

            Mrs. Stokes’s exclamation sent everyone crowding around the windows. “There he is!”

            Even Mrs. Crawford, though she was not suspicious, was curious about the man who had so suddenly appeared in their midst.

            Sure enough, the mountain man came slowly down the street, gazing at the buildings, and now and then stepping up on the boardwalk before returning to the street again. He didn’t seem to notice the faces of the women peering out the store windows at him. Now and then he would nod and look up at the sky.

            “Oh, there’s your husband, Mrs. Moreland,” Mrs. Fisher said.

            “Maybe he can tell us who the man is,” Mrs. Stokes hinted. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

            Mrs. Moreland, after making sure the mountain man wouldn’t notice, opened the door and beckoned her husband over. “Who is he?” she asked.

            With a shrug, Deputy Moreland shook his head. “Says his name is Tiny and he’s from the mountains. Says he’s come for Christmas.” The deputy looked at the ladies. “I think you’ll be safe if you go home today. Sheriff Kassen is doing some checking. I had better be going. I need to keep my eye on our friend.” With that he hurried away.

            The ladies looked at each other.

            “I don’t think I’ll feel safe at home with just Baby,” Mrs. Nelson said.

            “Come along with me for the day,” Mrs. Stokes offered. “Charlie can shoot straight.” She looked around. “I’ll have to find him though. Maybe he went to visit Mr. Kockenbrock.”

            Mrs. Fisher turned to Mrs. Moreland as Mrs. Stokes walked away with Mrs. Nelson. “May I come home with you? The boardinghouse is all fine and good at night when Mr. Kockenbrock is there because even if he is a bit absentminded at times, he’s big and strong. But in the daytime . . .”

            “Of course.”

            After the ladies left the store, Kate turned to her mother. “Mama, they didn’t purchase their sugar or buttons!”


Next part coming tomorrow..

Did you enjoy the first part of it?