Christmas Blue 2024

   “I ain’t too worried,” commented Sheriff Paine, “He’s been over every inch

of this land since he was tall enough to see over the weeds.” I listened carefully,

Blue standing by my side, looking doubtfully into the swirling snow just beginning

to blanket the surrounding, flattened land that stretched away into the bleak

landscape. A cattle fence faded into the distance, disappearing under the weather

and coming darkness.

    I nodded toward the lean-to that was attached to the old cabin, pointing to

J.D’s still saddled horse that had come back riderless. “Well Sheriff, I’m sure he

didn’t just send his horse back because he decided to enjoy a pleasant stroll

home, not in this weather,” I said, stooping a bit to rub Blue’s big blocky head. I

could feel his nervousness and if there’s something I’ve learned about Blue over

the past few years, is that it is never smart to not pay attention to my big dog’s

moods. If he’s nervous, then we should all be nervous.

    “Aw hell, son. This land has been in J.D.’s family for more than three

generations. Ain’t nobody knows this land like J.D.” The sheriff spat cold spittle

over the fence and glanced at a couple of neighbor vehicles that had pulled into

the space by the cabin. “Besides, he ain’t been gone long enough to get some big

search party together. Won’t be no flying or nothin’ neither in this kind of mess,”

said the grizzled, unshaven sheriff, looking up into the gloomy, gray soup of a sky.

   The old sheriff turned to me and put a bear sized paw of a hand on my shoulder,

saying, “His horse probably got spooked or something and ran off leaving the old

fool walking back by himself. He can’t get lost, the whole property is fenced and

there isn’t more than twenty or thirty head of cattle here. Not like there’s gonna’

be a stampede or nothin’.”

    “Maybe he’s got a broken leg or something,” I ventured, looking squarely

at the sheriff. Don’t you think we should ride down there and take a look?”

    “Look, son, you go ahead and do that if you want, but J.D.’s been thrown by

plenty of horses. He knows how to handle himself if that happens. He ain’t some,”

here the sheriff paused to look at me, “city slicker that don’t know a horse

blanket from a hot dog bun.” A low, quiet growl came from beside me and I

looked down to see Blue staring steadily at the sheriff. The sheriff looked down at

Blue and I saw the man’s eyes widen a bit as he took an involuntary step

backward.

    “Besides,” said the sheriff carefully eyeing Blue, “it’s Christmas Eve. None of

these old boys want to stay out in this cold waitin’ on one of their absent minded

neighbors that don’t even live here anymore to come strollin’ home.”

    “Sheriff, I can’t believe that you’re not more concerned about a missing

resident whose horse came home without him,” I said a little angrily. “From what

I understand, you’ve been friends all of your life. Why aren’t you worried about

this?”

     “Look, mister…Willy. He’s only been gone for a few hours. No call for help

from him, no instance of foul play, and he’s on his own damn land. Now it’s

Christmas Eve and I got reports of shoplifting at the mall, a drunk Santa crashing a

dinner party at the Chinese restaurant and two grandchildren waiting for Santa to

take a bite out of some burnt cookies they left out. Now, I’ll grant that the

weather is getting pretty bad and all but if he had to crawl on his belly he could

still be back here before too long. I really have to go but give me a call when he

gets back.”

    With that, the sheriff tipped his Stetson and waved the neighbors back into

their cars and left.

                                                           ***

    Blue and I walked to the shed where I had put J.D.’s horse in a stall while I

tried to reason with the crusty old sheriff. It didn’t seem like there was any love

lost between him and J.D. but I wasn’t surprised. J.D. had once told me some wild

story about the sheriff’s sister and himself but now I thought maybe the story had

some credence to it. “Guess we better see what kind of mess the old coot has

gotten himself into,” I said to Blue, who snorted and shook his head as if he were

not surprised that we were off to sort our old friend out again.

    Blue watched patiently while I tried to remember what J.D. had taught me

about how to saddle a horse properly. I swear my dog grinned as my horse and I

danced around in the little shed, one of us sure of what we were doing and one of

us not at all. I’m a city boy and not ashamed to admit that I barely know which

way the saddle goes, but J.D. had been trying to introduce me to the ways of a

Texas cowboy. It was not going well, just ask my horse. I guess I got too close to

the horse’s face because he butted my head, knocking my hat in the dirt,

breathing his hay flavored breath at me in warning. Blue gave a little growl and

the horse stopped two stepping and stood quietly while I tried to clumsily cinch

and bridle and adjust stirrups and strained to remember what else I knew that I

was not doing properly.

    Finally, I felt as ready as I was ever going to be and pulled J.D.’s still saddled

horse away from the grain bucket, snugged down my hat, pulled up my coat collar

and started off slowly following the fence line into the cold, darkening night. Blue

trotted confidently beside us, seemingly unworried about the weather, or the

incompetence of his main human and the two giant animals that I was supposedly

in charge of. Blue doesn’t worry about things. It’s a gift of dogs I guess and I admit

that I take more comfort from his calm manner than he probably does from me. I

suppose that he’s satisfied with my cooking and the provisions I ensure for his

comfort and lifestyle. I take care of him and he takes care of me. Simple as that.

     “Snowin’ harder, now, big boy,” I muttered to Blue as I followed the fence

line, trying hard to not ride into it. “And gettin’ dark, too,” I said, noticing the

snow starting to gather in a little line along Blue’s back. I sighed coldly into my

coat collar as we rode along, a little apprehension growing in my stomach as I

remembered the breakfast conversation that morning with J.D.

    “You done good,” grinned J.D., bits of biscuit flecking his scraggly beard.

    “Soon, you’ll be ready for the pony ride up at the Santy Claus Village on Pike’s

Peak,” he cackled. I could only scowl at him for laughing at my sorry attempts to

saddle the gentle horse he was trying to teach me about riding on. My butt was

heartily complaining about being thumped and then dumped and for all of my

reasoning I couldn’t come to grips with why anyone would want to climb on the

back of a thousand pound animal. I wondered why I had let J.D. talk me into

coming on this supposedly “quick” trip to the Texas panhandle in mid-winter.

    “Look, Willy, I just have to check on the land, look over the fences real quick

and make sure the guy leasing the land is doin’ okay and we’ll be on our way

home. Might as well see if we can get you on a horse for a little bit, you might like

it. Quick trip, down and back. We’ll stay overnight in the old line cabin. Won’t

need much, just a little food for breakfast. I’ll ride out in the morning and then we

can leave. Be back here in Colorado for a late dinner.” It had sounded reasonable

enough back in Colorado Springs sitting around my kitchen table when he had

asked Blue and I to come along for company.

    We had arrived late afternoon the previous day, bringing a little cooler with

breakfast stuff into the small cabin. Of course, I had brought Blue’s food and

treats, his travel bowls and a favorite rug he likes to sleep on when we take these

trips in J.D.’s specially outfitted van, which is a whole other story.

    The cold was biting and I began to worry about Blue’s feet and wondered if

I shouldn’t take him back and leave him in the cabin. Blue glanced up at me and

snorted as if he knew what I was thinking. Of course, he would be having none of

that, not when one of his people was in trouble. Blue doesn’t have to speak but

his thoughts on certain subjects are as clear to me as if he had.

                                                             ***

    “Ain’t gonna’ need no phone,” J.D. had said that morning and tossed his cell

on the table beside his van keys and wallet. “Who am I gonna call? Besides, I’ll be

back in a jiffy. Just hang out with Blue and keep the stove goin’. Plenty of wood by

the door. Looks like some weather movin’ in. Good thing we got plenty of coffee,”

he grinned as he buttoned up his heavy coat and pulled on his old battered

cowboy hat.

    “What if something happens? You might need to call me or something,” I

said.

    “This is my family’s land, my land. It’s fine. Just need to do a quick check on

the fences and make sure everything is good before I give Ol’ Mac another years

lease for his cattle. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail and I’ll be back. Nothin’ to worry

about. We’ll be on our way back home in a jiffy.”

    Nothing to worry about, huh? Just stumble around in the Texas panhandle

in the middle of a freak snowstorm on a horse that I can’t’ ride and find my crazy

friend who may or may not be hurt or frozen to death. Nothin’ to worry about at

all. All I could do was sigh into the cold wind. I couldn’t count the number of times

that Blue and I have had to pull J.D. and his butt out of the frying pan. But, he did

keep things interesting.

    We seemed to be slowing down, the horses walking along in their own

rhythm, head down against the wind, my backside numb, frozen and unfeeling.

I’m quite sure my horse probably knew a lot more about where it was going and

what it should be doing than I did, so I sat quietly and concentrated on not falling

out of the saddle, which is not as easy as it may sound. The wind picked up and

the air seemed hard, almost flinty as I tried to keep my nose tucked into my old

scarf. If J.D. was on foot it was cold enough to freeze his boots right to the

ground. And of course, it was getting dark, and that made it seem even colder. If

we didn’t find him soon, we might not find him until spring.

    I looked down at Blue, who seemed unbothered by the weather, as if he

were just out for an evening walk. I worried anyway because he had to be feeling

the cold as much as I was. I couldn’t keep going much farther and risk him

becoming injured. I wished that I hadn’t listened to the old neighbor who had

warned J.D. about something that had taken down a couple of animals recently.

    “Most likely a wildcat or somethin’, could’ve been a prairie wolf, I guess,” the old

guy had said. That’s all we needed to top off this fun party. A damned wildcat! A

wolf! Some Christmas.

    My fingers were numb even inside my gloves and I was just getting ready to

stop the horses and pull Blue up with me when I heard a high pitched, shrill

scream. It was a horrible sound, like an animal caught in a trap. Blue took off into

the swirling mist, me shouting for him to wait as I tried to get my horse to move

faster than his slow walk. I’m sure there’s a way to do that, but damned if I could

remember how. The horse never changed its pace and I thought I might have to

jump off and run ahead.

    I heard the scream again accompanied this time by Blue’s barking. Aw crap,

what was going on, now! My heart began to beat faster as I started worrying

about my dog and my friend. Maybe a grizzly bear or a mountain lion was after

them and I didn’t even have anything to defend myself with but a couple of Blue’s

Slim Jims in my pocket. The damn horse refused to go any faster and I had one

foot out of the stirrups when I heard J.D. yelling my name. It sounded like he was

far away, but straight ahead. I yelled for him to hold on and turned my attention

to urging the damn horse to go faster than the dry grass munching, grazing amble

he had settled into. I noticed that his ears did perk up when we heard the screams

in the distance. After fumbling with the reins and kicking at his flanks, the horse

did pick up his pace a little, but as we advanced further into the blinding frozen

mist he began to act nervous, tossing his head and snorting. Then I heard that

scream again, this time accompanied by fierce barking. Blue! I’d know his bark

anywhere and he didn’t sound like he was playing. I started yelling, calling Blue’s

name, my lips frozen and not functioning properly, my heart icy and cold with

worried anxiety. If anything happened to Blue… It was the cold, I’m sure, that was

making my eyes water, but for some reason there were tears on my cheeks. My

heart was beating so fast that I was having trouble catching my breath. I yelled for

Blue again, then J.D. and I kept yelling as I spurred the horse deeper into the mist.

J.D. called to me again, this time closer and Blue had stopped barking. I slowed

the horse to a snorting, nervous walk and tried to peer into the snow.

    “Willy!” I turned as J.D. and Blue came out of the freezing mist and hobbled

toward the fence line. J.D.’s hat was on crooked, his bandana tied around his face,

a pronounced limp evident as he slowed to grab onto my horse’s bridle. Blue

walked calmly beside him as if he had just gone to fetch the morning newspaper

from the driveway. Relief flooded over me at the sight of them both as I slipped to

the ground to hug my dog and nod at my lost friend.

    “Was standin’ on the damn iced up fence when I slipped off and slammed

into my horse. Sent her flyin’ off, home I guess. Busted my bad ankle again.

Started whistlin’ for the horse in case she hadn’t gone back to the cabin, when

that dang wildcat showed up. He figured out that I was hurt and thought he might

just have himself a nice winter snack. Started flinging rocks and yelling at him but I

think I just made him madder. Then Ol’ Blue showed up, comin’ out of the mist

like a four-legged angel. I was mighty glad to see him, too. He started runnin’ at

that cat, confusing him. Blue would hide in the mist and then attack the cat from

a different angle. Guess he just gave up after a bit of that. Probably figured there

were easier ways to get a meal somewhere else. Thanks for comin’ after me, guys.

That could have gotten ugly. And, it’s getting’ a bit chilly out here,” said J.D., his

lips numb making his words a little slurry.

    I helped him up on the other horse and put Blue up to ride with him, pulling

an extra blanket that I’d brought to wrap them both in. We headed back in the

frigid cold, with darkness fully descending upon us as even the horses seemed

ready to get back to our nearby shelter.

                                                         ***

    “Guess we’ll have to spend another night here, Willy. My ankle is swollen

and I’m plumb beat. Sorry,” apologized J.D. as he stretched his legs out while

slumping in one of the crude kitchen chairs. “We’ll get us a good early start in the

mornin’, maybe stop at that café by the highway for a big cattleman’s breakfast.

Think we’ll all be ready for something like that before that long ride home.”

    “Sounds good,” I said as I pushed more wood into the little wood stove. I

filled an old enamel coffee pot with water and set it on top and pulled my own

chair close to the heat. “I don’t really like driving at night any more anyways.”

    “Yeah, that cold really takes it out of you. Don’t think I’d be able to keep my

eyes open for very long tonight,” said my friend, pushing his boots out of the way

to stretch his stockinged feet closer to the stove. The little stove was almost

glowing, a cheery warmth that filled the small cabin with comfort and heat. The

water started to bubble as I got up to find our meager stash of coffee.

    “Don’t guess there’s nothin’ left to eat is there?” asked J.D. as he pulled his

blanket closer around his shoulders.

    “Got four old biscuits left over from breakfast,” I said, staring at the

remnants on the little wooden table. J.D. nodded up at one of the little wooden

shelves above the cabins only window and said, “Might take a look up there and

see if Ol’ Mac left anything behind. I know he spends some time here when he’s

working his little herd. Could be a can of something or other there.”

    I finished prepping the coffee and turned to the recessed shelf, reaching up

to explore the contents. There was a can of nails, an old pair of gloves with holes

in most of the fingers and a pair of rusted wire clippers. “Oh yeah,” I grunted, as I

pulled down a can. “Got a can of beans, here,” I grinned.

    “Well, that’s something,” added J.D. turning to look at my find with

interest. “Anything else?” he asked, shifting his feet to keep his socks from

catching on fire. Our little stove was really putting out some heat.

    “Yeah, but I need…,” I stopped to pull my chair over to stand on. Reaching

into the darkened corner shelf I finally grabbed a can and pulled it into the light.

    “Spam? A can of Spam?” I said in wonder.

    “Wow,” said J.D. pushing his old hat back, wiping his face with his faded

bandana. “Ain’t had none of that since Viet Nam.”

    “Well, by the looks of this can, it might be that old. I’m not sure this is

edible,” I said, doubtfully.

    “Are you kidding? Spam? Man, that stuff lasts forever. If the can ain’t

rusted through we can eat it.”

    “Not sure I want to,” I muttered. ”Maybe we can trade it to Blue for some

of his Jerky treats.”

    J.D. laughed aloud, “I think he’s smarter than that. It’ll be fine. Just chop it

up and toss it in the pan with the beans. Hell, throw them old biscuits in there

too. It’ll be better than lettin’ our stomachs try to chew on our backbones.”

    It was not pretty to look at, the mush I made in our cast iron skillet, but

surprisingly, it smelled good enough to start Blue drooling as he stared at me

pushing the odd looking ghoulash around. J.D. got up and hobbled to the crudely

built wooden table to give our breakfast plates a quick wipe before I spooned our

“hash” onto them. I can only say that I have never, (and hope to never again) had

a Christmas Eve dinner like that.

    “Ain’t so bad,” mumbled J.D. after his first bite. Blue seemed to like it too,

after I scrapped half of my plate into his travel bowl.

    “Don’t suppose we should leave any of this as a snack for Santa,” I

muttered facetiously. “I’m fairly certain he’s not going to take a bite out of this

stuff.”

    “Not unless he wants to have a fartin' contest with Rudolf while he’s flying

across the cold night sky,” laughed J.D. “Can’t have those Christmas presents

under the tree smelling funny,” said J.D. as he continued to cackle while pouring

coffee into our mugs.

    After I scoured out the skillet and let Blue out to do some dog business, we

wrapped ourselves in blankets and scooted our chairs close to the little

woodstove. Blue snorted and circled until he had his travel rug positioned just the

way he wanted and dropped heavily into a heap, sighing loudly, his people safe,

his duties done for the day. J.D. poured a bit of Texas whiskey in our coffee and I

pushed a couple more pieces of wood into the little stove, hoping it would last

until morning.

    “I know it ain’t the Christmas Eve that everyone else is having, but at least

we’re out of the storm,” said J.D. squirming in his chair, trying to make himself

comfortable.

    “I’m not complaining,” I answered, grimacing at the strength of the cowboy

coffee. “Guess there’s a lot of folks out there with a lot less that’d probably be

happy with a hot meal and a warm stove to go to bed with.”

    J.D. nodded and lifted his cup, “Merry Christmas, Willy.”

    “Merry Christmas, J.D.” I said, tapping cups with him. Blue snorted in his

sleep, his feet moving in rhythm to some dream that had already come upon him.

We watched the wood crackle and burn through the cracks in the stove, enjoying

the quiet and the warmth. Outside, the wind blew noisily, snow falling quietly to

blanket the little cabin and the connecting horse shed. We finished our coffee and

I stoked the little stove one last time as we settled back in our chairs and blankets.

    Eventually J.D. joined Blue in a snoring contest but even their noise couldn’t take

away from the contentment that I was feeling. I can remember many Christmas

Eves surrounded by piles of gifts that I didn’t want or need and eating holiday

dinners with relatives that I didn’t like and that didn’t like me. It was hard to

remember to be grateful sometimes back then, but tonight, after our mushy

Spam and day old biscuits, a well stoked fire and my dog and friend safely home, I

was nothing but grateful. It always seems to be the blessings of small things that

bring real meaning to our lives. Maybe it’s the whiskey or the lateness of the

evening that makes me think I know what I’m talking about. May be a

conversation for another time. Tonight, I wish only a Merry Christmas to all and to

all a good night.

                                 Blessings of the season to us all