Emanuel's First Christmas

(I wrote this very short story a couple of years ago as an exercise in writing outside my own genre, and the fun I had with it was a big part of what prompted me to write The Messenger Bag. It's a Christmas story, but a depressing one.)

A cowboy who sold his cattle and shot his horse is nothing more than a pedestrian, wearing the wrong kind of shoes for hiking, and looking for the nearest town with a horse trader. And that horse trader better be honest or Manny was going to plug him between the eyes. Three days of hoofing it in boots meant for riding has a tendency to bleed the sweet right out of a gentleman. And there wasn’t all that much sweet left in Manny to bleed.

He was grieving what was sure to be the loss of a fine saddle, Mexican made, with some fine tooling and silver, and broken in just the right amount. He’d tried to carry it with him. Strapped everything he had onto it and dragged it like a sled behind him with a couple of branches underneath to keep it from sanding down to nothing. But the branches kept wearing out on the rocky soil, so he knew he had to ditch the saddle and hope to come back and find it later. He tied branches on it to disguise it, but figured it was just a matter of time before some bright-eyed fellow would come along and say, how come there’s a bunch of branches on the ground there, looking like someone picked posies and stuck them in a vase?

Manny sat close as he could get to the little fire he’d made under a rocky outcropping and sipped hot coffee. He was mighty tender about the loss of his horse. She was a nice little mare, that Essie, not too big, but a great cow horse. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Bossed the cattle around like they didn’t outweigh and outnumber her. Did anything he told her to. But the second night after he’d brought the herd to the buyers up north of Placerville she’d stepped on a damn rattler in the dusk, taken off running, and broken her leg in a ditch she didn’t see. He had to shoot her. Had to look at those huge brown eyes gone wild with pain and fear and pull the trigger. Nothing else he could do. Just shoot her and start walking.

He pulled his hat low over his face as a blast of icy wind howled and reduced his campfire to a pile of smoldering sticks. Daring to leave his niche in the wall of the cliff, he went in search of rocks he could bank around the fire, being mindful of the sheer drop he knew lay in the hollow darkness somewhere in front of him.

He regretted taking this job. It was too late in the year to be traveling through this pass. But he wasn’t like the big cattle companies in Stockton -- he had to take work when he got it. Besides, when Doc Wilson wants ten head moved, and when you owe Doc Wilson a terrible amount of money, you move his cattle.

He got the fire going again behind its rock screen, but still the wind whipped through his clothes leaving him as cold as he ever felt in his life. As cold as when he fell into the river full of snowmelt, only there was no getting out for warm clothes and a cabin. He was stuck there until morning.

Within the orange glow of the fire he wandered a little further, hunting for more rocks to pile around the niche to protect him from the wind. There weren’t many more to find without getting too far from the safety of the light. Hunkering down the best he could with everything he had piled around him, he waited for dawn, which he estimated was a long time off with night falling so early this time of year.

Why did he have to be such a stubborn man, always working alone? This is what got him into this fix. If he’d been working with partners they’d be home by now. But no, he always had to do things his way. Always had to turn down anything that would commit him to what someone else wanted.

Gust after gust slammed the icy cliff face, carrying away all warmth and all light. All except for a small campfire, a speck of warmth painting one tiny bundled man, shaking violently.

Manny was trying to stay alert by doing math. He’d delivered the cattle on December 19^th. Then he spent the night. Which meant he left for home on December 20^th. He rode Essie on the 20^th and the 21^st, and that night was when she got bit and broke her leg and he shot her. Then he walked on the 22^nd, the 23^rd, and that meant today was the 24^th. I’ll be damned. December 24^th. Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve people were supposed to be in their warm houses with their families eating fine foods, and maybe lighting a Christmas tree. Giving each other presents. Taking care of each other.

They weren’t supposed to be all alone in the dark and the cold. They weren’t supposed to be wondering if they were going to survive until morning. They weren’t supposed to be sure that nobody would even notice they were missing for a long time, and that there was no chance someone would come looking for them.

Those people in the warm Christmas houses, they were willing to bend a little. They knew they didn’t always have to do everything their own way. They wouldn’t die alone.

Manny watched as the wind tried to rip away the tiny flame of his fire and suck it into the void. And he tried to think of Christmas carols he could sing.

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm. All is bright.” The song was torn out of his mouth. He was being erased by the darkness and the cold. He had wanted to be alone, but now that he was getting his wish he didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want it!

Dying on Christmas would be mighty ironic for a man named Emanuel. His mother had named him that because it meant “God with us.” Manny hadn’t ever cared one way or the other whether God was with us.

But never before had Manny seen the horror of being all alone in the darkness and cold of a universe without anybody else but himself. Had never seen the importance of a source of light and warmth bigger than what he could provide for himself.

There was no longer any feeling in his feet, his hands, or his ears. He shook so hard it cramped his muscles. Then the shaking stopped and he rested for a moment. It was like heaven. But again he shook. He figured when he stopped shaking and didn’t start again that would be it for him.

That was when he prayed the first real prayer of his life.

©B. Gorshe 2014

How Oregonians Handle Snow

1      1.  Newscasters begin predicting snow days in advance, however they rarely say “snow,” instead calling it “the white stuff.” Lower ranked reporters, stationed along highway overpasses, come up with new ways to announce that nothing is happening, while attempting to remember why they majored in journalism. Since local weather forecasters have cried wolf one time too many few believe there will be any snow anyway.

        2. Those who do succumb to the media-fueled frenzy crowd local supermarkets to load up on food they fear will not be available again for a long time. Only a few prepare by putting chains in the trunks of their cars.

        3. When it does begin to snow school district administrators carefully monitor road conditions and wait until roads are at their worst to release all children from school.

        4. Panicked parents leave their jobs and hurry home as quickly as possible. People without young children see parents leaving and the herd mentality kicks in. Everyone flees all places of employment at the exact same time.

       5.  Having nearly every single person in the metropolitan area getting behind the wheel at the same moment causes gridlock. Many drivers put their cars and SUV’s in ditches. Most of these vehicles are four-wheel drive or were being driven by people who grew up in warm climates, like Southeast Asia.  

       6. Transplants who grew up in places where there’s real snow go about their business and wait until the crazies get off the road. Despite their winter driving experience most Oregonians do not listen to them.

7      7. Upon arriving home the Oregonian becomes a whirlwind of activity, attempting to make cocoa, put on a ski sweater and slippers, light a fire in the fireplace, make a tiny snowman, and Facebook everyone about it all at the same time, while being pleased with having once again come through the weather event unscathed. 

And thus the pattern will repeat next year.

Photo KOIN-TV