Christmas Treasures (excerpt)

8   An Unexpected Visitor

 

 

     Suddenly, Bapa laughed as a big black nose, followed by a golden haired head covered with snow, bounded through the wide limbs toward him.

     “Goldie!” Bapa winced in pain as the big dog climbed onto his tender chest; Z. Tyler relaxed, tucked the weapon safely into its leather sheath and, this time, secured it in his saddle bags.

     Water droplets flew as Goldie gave himself a good shake and Bapa and Z. Tyler protected themselves from the shower as best they could; they laughed at the big dog, happy to see him.

     Petting the animal and drying him with a length of cloth, the boy said, “I wonder how he got loose. And, how did he find us, so far from home?”

     “He either slipped out of the house or escaped from his kennel after Nanny put him away. I’ll bet that they don’t even know he’s gone.” Bapa patted Goldie’s head. “When you call tomorrow, tell them that our visitor arrived safe and sound and we’re glad to have his company.”

     Z. Tyler eyed his grandfather. “You look pretty tired and it’s been a long day, Bapa. Get some sleep. I’ll tend the fire and keep an eye on you and check the horses during the night.”

     He handed Bapa a couple of aspirin he took from the first aid kit which he had removed earlier from his saddle bags when he had retrieved the towel used to dry Goldie.

“Take these. Should make you feel some better. A good night’s sleep and you’ll be chipper, again, in the morning.”

     “Yeah,” Bapa agreed. He smiled and said, “You sure do make a good nurse.” They both laughed at the thought. Then, he added, “Uh, Nurse Tyler, if it isn’t too much to ask, could I get another cup of that delicious soup you make?” Again, they enjoyed the humor.

     After Bapa ate the hot soup, he closed his eyes and slept soundly; Goldie kept his head on his master’s stomach, as if the big dog was not about to let him get away, again.

     The boy slept sporadically through the night, keeping an eye on Bapa, checking on the horses several times and tending the campfire. When he went out before dawn to check on their mounts, the snow had stopped; about eight inches of new fluff had fallen. The countryside was a winter wonderland, even in the dark. The night was still and cold and fresh, tingling on exposed skin like winter’s coolness after emerging from a hot shower in a cold room. Refreshing!

     Remembering Bapa’s education on forecasting wind direction on the pending day, he looked straight up into the black abyss. Stars in the southern quadrant of his vision twinkled and danced much more animatedly than did their bright cousins in any other direction. He made a mental note of the phenomena and would check its accuracy in the coming daylight. With that, he shook his head and smiled, thinking of the old man he loved so dearly. “That, Bapa!” He mused.

     Bapa awoke before dawn hinted at the birth of a new day but lay quiet so as not to disturb the soundly sleeping, Z. Tyler. His soft, cadenced breathing attested to the boy’s peaceful, deep slumber; the old man knew he needed this respite, and had earned the privilege; his exploits the previous day were Herculean in effort and akin to the skills of pioneers like Boone and Crockett.

He would praise the boy for his frontier savvy, but after Christmas, in front of the family. He knew an opportunity would present itself and he could extol the young man’s virtues without embarrassing him; the boy was adept at many things, but extremely humble and Bapa loved and respected him too much too carelessly tread on that strong, and, unusual, positive characteristic.

     Bapa was ever-proud of the boy, loved and treated him like a son, in fact, he thought of him in that profound and loving manner. He respected Z. Tyler; here, in a world nearly devoid of any man in a leadership role, was, indeed, a real, live, man’s man.

     When the sky brightened with a newborn sunrise, their little enclave glowed; it would be another two hours or so before the sunshine reached down into their hideaway. But the crisp, clean, clear air, scrubbed pure by the passing storm, brought indirect light to the shelter’s interior. Filtered day allowed ambient light to grace the tidy camp giving it a “home-y” feel.

     Z. Tyler stirred, stretched and suddenly bolted straight upright. Blinking his eyes rapidly, he quickly ascertained where he was and the events which had brought him there.

     Eyeing Bapa and seeing the clear blue orbs watching him, he said, “Good morning. You look like you feel pretty good?” The salutation came out as a question. He added, “How’d you sleep?”

     Bapa stretched, carefully, answering the question at the same time. “I slept pretty good.” He flexed his right arm slowly and showed no sign of discomfort. “I woke up twice in the night, not from pain, just to shift my position a little to relieve some kinks and cramps here and there. The first time you were asleep; later, you must have been out checking on the horses.” He smiled, patting Goldie on the head. “This old dog spent the whole night, right here.”

     “Yeah, I went out a couple of times to make sure the animals were okay; they were just fine. We got about seven or eight inches of new snow; it’s clear now and crisp, but not much below twenty. It’s just beautiful out there.” He paused, weighing what he wanted to say next without being too obvious. Finally, “The wind will be out of the south, tomorrow.” He smiled.

     “Chinook!” The old man exclaimed. “Indian word for ‘Snow Eater’, a warm southern wind blows in after a big storm and quickly melts the snowfall.” Now, it was Bapa’s turn to pause, wanting to pat the boy on his back for paying attention to yesterday’s weather forecasting lesson while seeming to be somewhat subtle about the compliment. “Twinkling stars in the southern quadrant last night?” He winked at his grandson as if to say, “Atta boy!”

     Z. Tyler replied deftly, as if the feat was no big deal, more like second nature. “Actually, it was early this morning, about four a.m.” He smiled and Bapa returned the affable grin.

     Bapa tried his arm again, seeming to brace himself for expected pain which did not manifest.

     “Shoulder seems to work well; no tenderness, like yesterday. Still, I better baby it a little. What say we have some hot tea and a bit of breakfast with another can of that great soup you cook so good. Maybe, a piece of bread, too. Then, you can go out on the hill and try that fancy cell phone you are so proud of.” He teased the boy about all the gadgets available to the younger generation. The old man often quipped that he didn’t even know how to turn on a computer, much less “Text” on an i-phone, whatever the heck that meant.

     “I’ll rustle up some vittles, Bapa. But, I bet that, secretly, you’re glad I have this newfangled invention.” He smiled, admitting, “I’m sure happy to have it, too.” They both laughed, each at the peculiarities of the other, but, mostly, at themselves.

     By seven, they had satiated their gnawing hunger and three cups of hot tea had slaked their thirst and warmed their bellies, sufficiently. Bapa was feeling much better, looked spry and even suggested that they finish the delivery to Ole Sam on the horses. Z. Tyler was having none of that nonsense; Bapa looked okay, but the accident had been an ordeal, even if the old man was reluctant to admit it. The boy had witnessed a “thrilling” circus performance of his grandfather summersault through mid-air, feet over head, and it had not been a comforting sight.

     “You’re lucky you weren’t hurt any worse than you were,” he reminded. “That horse could just as easily have landed ‘on’ top of you as ‘off’ of you.”

     He laughed, knowing Bapa was already formulating a lecture about “worry” and “fear” and “borrowing trouble” that just never happened.

     Beating the old man to the punch, he joked, “That would’ve been a fine mess, Magic on top of you and---you…dead! Those animals are heavy! Then, I guess you’d have expected me to remove that nag, dig a deep grave through frozen tundra in the blizzard and properly bury you.”

     He gave Bapa a contrived, stern look.

     “Well!” Bapa replied, tongue-in-cheek, “sorry to disappoint and ruin all your fun.” Then, laughing as he tried to get the words out, “And, don’t forget to add a real nice headstone, too.”

     They had another good laugh at the good-natured bantering, when suddenly, Z. Tyler sobered.

     “You know, Bapa. We shouldn’t joke about it. That was pretty scary stuff.”

     He looked down, so as to avoid his grandfather’s eyes, deep in reflective thought.

     “I prayed, Bapa. As hard as I knew how.” Then, he met the old man’s gaze and confessed, “I just kept thinking: What am I going to tell Nanny?”

     They sat in silence for a moment then, each realizing how lucky they, both, had been.

     Finally, Bapa broke the reflective reverie. He always knew just the right thing to say.

     “Well! Son. All’s well that ends well!” He winked and Z. Tyler, and tentatively, smiled.

     “Now,” he continued, “I think you should hike up the hill, try that fancy phone and let Nanny and the others know what happened. Be sure to tell her that I’m alright. When your dad and Alex get there, have them bring the snowmobiles and sled in the stock trailer up to the trail road where it bends toward Ole Sam’s place. Graig knows the spot, just north of Miles Crossing. The gate should be open; Jess Ogalvy will have moved his cattle down to the winter pasture by now. It’s about eight miles by road from our house. Just tell him we’re over on Tall Pine beach.”

     He paused in his narrative, laughing. Then, “Be sure to remind him that Tall Pine is gone; he won’t be able to use it as a landmark, anymore.  Since the snow was only several inches, they ought to be able to get within a half mile or so of where we are. We didn’t hit those deep drifts until we crested the rise up yonder. They ought to be able to get fairly close.”

     Then, as an afterthought, “Tell them Goldie showed up last night to keep us company.” He patted the retriever’s golden head and added, “Take him with you, Son, he loves a good roll in the snow first thing in the morning.”

     The young man laid several logs on the fire, placed a few more near-by, in case his grandfather should need them before his return. Satisfied with his preparation, he readied himself for the trek up the hill where he hoped to summon help; Bapa was in no shape to ride.