I know Christmas was four days ago but it’s still the season, so here’s one more Christmas story.

The Welcome: A Christmas Story

Father had insisted they push through the early snows, but the flux was unrelenting, now both Mom and Dad were gone and Ian was alone to shepherd his sisters to safety.

The trail, forged by the Mormons when they first arrived was obvious, even in the snow, but it was hard walking. He’d left Ann, the oldest and his younger sisters; Emily and Carrie, the youngest, together, huddled around a fire.  Neither Ann, nor Carrie, could travel as sick as they were. Emily wasn’t sick and was both strong and stubborn; she’d keep her sisters safe. He was hoping the trail passed a house or farm; any where he could get some help. He tried not to move too fast, he didn’t want to sweat, that would only make him colder. The snow continued to fall but thankfully, there was no wind.

He pushed on all day, hardly pausing to eat the cold biscuit he’d put in his pocket before he left the girls. Descending a long way, he hoped to find a place soon; the day was already drawing to a close.

It must be close to Christmas, he thought as his weary legs punched through the knee deep snow. Back in New York, we’d be putting up a tree, making gifts for each other. His chest constricted, he didn’t want to think about mom and dad right now.

He came to an end of the ponderosa pines, and realized he was on a road. He looked around for house lights, dusk had already come. Which way? He looked to his right and left, a panic beginning. He went right, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake; the girls were up on the mountain all alone in the cold.  It was easier walking now so he hurried, the cold seeping through his sweaty shirt. About a mile up the road, he saw it, a small glow coming from the window of a cabin ahead.

It seemed to take forever, getting to the cabin door. Breathless, he could smell bacon and hear the voices of a family at supper as he knocked. He heard a chair scrape back as the voices inside went still.

The door opened, a flood of warmth washing over him. A big man, full beard and wool pants held up with suspenders stood in the doorway. “Sir, I’m Ian Washington, we’re up on the Mormon trail. My mom and dad are dead and my sisters are sick. Can you help us?”

The man paused only a moment, “Come in boy, we’ll see what we can do.”

The End

429 Words

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