The Christmas Trade
Christmas
Childhood Trilogy -- Story One
by Lindabrit
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV
program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures
and have been used without permission.
No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are
copyrighted to the author.
The first rosy tendrils of dawn were snaking across the gloom as the weary,
heavily burdened boy at last drew near the humble shack that was his home. He
was sweating profusely, his shirt was soaked with it, for what he carried was
too heavy for him, but he was determined to get it home to his little family.
He didn't mind about the sweating, it was nice to feel warm when the early
morning air was so chilly.
He had no coat to protect him from the winter, not this year, he had outgrown
his old one and his mother had not been able to afford to get him a
replacement. He had a thick knitted jacket though, his aunt had made it and he
gratified her by wearing it despite the jibes he took at school from more
fortunate children. He had not taken the jacket with him last night, he hadn't
wanted to muck it up with any blood or such. He grimaced inwardly, if he had
messed up the woolen jacket his aunt would unhesitatingly have switched his
behind. He glanced up at the rapidly lightening sky, he had been out all night,
chances were pretty strong that he was going to get switched anyway!
The cabin came into view and he sighed with relief, anxious as he was to get
his trophy home, he doubted he could have carried it much further. As soon as
the sound of his boots scraping on the stony path could be heard, the door of
the cabin opened and the whole of his odd, assorted little family came out to
confront him. He stood before the three women, sheepish, apologetic but
unrepentant.
The three women each responded according to their natures.
Leah said, "Heath my darling, I've been so worried, I was afraid something
had happened to you!"
Rachael said, "I ought to tan your bare behind Heath Morgan Thomson, scaring
your Mama this way!"
Hannah said, "you done got you a deer Heath, you're a fine hunter honey, a
fine hunter!"
Hannah and Rachael moved toward the skinny eleven year old and he sighed with
relief as the dragging weight of the dead animal was hoisted from his thin
shoulders. Rachael inspected the buck, grunting approvingly.
"Well we ain't going hungry this Christmas Heath, that's for sure!"
He grinned with delight, his heart so full, he thought he would burst with joy.
He watched as Rachael and Hannah bore his prize away, exclaiming with pleasure
at his prowess with the ancient hunting rifle and the prospect of a Christmas
feast two days hence. He turned from watching his two adopted aunts and faced
the woman he adored, his endearing lop-sided smile lighting his gentle, pale
blue eyes.
"Didn't mean to scare you Mama, but I tracked him so long I just clean
forgot the time."
She came to him, wrapping her thin arms around him, kissing his spiky fair hair
and murmuring his name.
"Oh Heath, my lovely boy, my wonderful, wonderful boy, you got us a whole
deer! We're going to have us such a Christmas dinner, you brave, clever
son!"
Her tender embrace and her words of praise were ample reward for his long, cold
night's hunting and Heath was well content. His was not an easy existence, born
with the stigma of illegitimacy and looked down upon by nearly all who knew
him, he bore his sufferings with stoical courage and determined, unyielding
pride. The world could hurl any epithet it wished at him, while he had his
mother's love and his two strange old aunts were fond and proud, he could take
any insult without losing his sense of self-belief.
Two days later, he opened his eyes to find the sky clear and blue, it was going
to be a fine and bright Christmas morning. He lay warm under his blankets and
would stay there for another two minutes, then he would rise first of his house
as was his custom. He liked to fetch the water and clean out and re-light the
fire before Mama and Aunts Rachael and Hannah got up. It was his way of easing
the daily burden of the women's harsh existence. Their lives were defined by
grinding poverty and they all laboured long and hard, but he liked to help as
and where he could and he knew with child-like pride and satisfaction that he
made all the difference to them. He knew too, that the bigger he got, the more
he could help and the better he could take care of them.
When he was a man, full-grown, he was going to care for them all three, they
would live lives of simple ease and he would ensure that they wanted for
nothing. But for now, all he could do was what he already did and that was his
best. He had no horse and no good hunting gun, just an ancient old rifle that
was almost falling apart. Heath feared it would explode in his hands one day
from sheer old age. He went on regular hunting trips, usually snaring rabbits
and other small creatures and shooting the odd bird, or bringing one down with
his home-made catapult. A skill he was immensely proud of. There was a limit to
how far he could walk into the surrounding wilderness at night to hunt and he
worried sometimes about it. He stretched like a cat and plucking up his
courage, he reluctantly left his warm bed and struggled into his clothes,
shivering in the dawn chill. He thrust away his doubts and fears, today was
Christmas day and because of him and to his deep satisfaction, there would be a
good dinner today for the women he loved. He dressed and set about his
self-imposed daily chores.
Later, after they had all seated themselves around the makeshift, but
spotlessly clean kitchen table, Leah said grace and they all surveyed the feast
before them. There was a platter, piled high with thick slices of warm roasted
deer meat and there were baked potatoes, carrots, peas and corn and chunks of
corn bread too. There was even a jug full of aromatic gravy. Flanking these
dishes was a huge apple pie and Heath's stomach growled with pleasure at the
sight of the unexpected treat.
Heath eyed the banquet with a puzzled frown. He had expected the deer and the
carrots and peas were from Hannah's vegetable garden. The potatoes were a
mystery though, she had suffered a disaster with her potato crop this year and
she had not grown corn either. He looked a question at his mother and she gave
him her sweetest smile. "Your aunts have been doing a little Christmas
trading Honey, eat up now and we'll tell you all about it later."
Nothing loth, Heath set to with a will, making a hearty meal and relishing
every succulent mouthful. He watched his womenfolk with a proprietorial air,
ensuring that they too dined well and when they were all as full as they could
hold, they moved and sat before the bright fire. He had chopped ample wood for
a roaring fire and they all sat in blissful content, almost silent except for
old Hannah's soft crooning of a few Christmas carols as they digested their
sumptuous repast.
Later, as Rachael and Hannah dozed either side of the fireplace like a pair of
sleeping book-ends, Leah told Heath all about the Christmas trades the two other
women had done.
"Rachael skinned and trimmed and dressed the buck and she's made sure we
have plenty of meat for now then she set about trading the rest. She got corn
on the cob and corn bread from Mr Martin over yonder and he gave her a winter
coat that belonged to his younger boy, it should fit you fine Heath." She
smiled understandingly, "Rachael knitted that jacket to keep the life in
you and you wore it like the good boy you are, but she knew how it shamed you
in school, so she got the coat for you."
Heath had stood and shrugged himself into the warm coat that Leah handed him.
It fit well enough and wasn't too badly worn, it would give rise to no fresh
insults or jeers at school and he glanced toward the sleeping Rachael. God
bless her, she was a formidable woman at times but her heart was as big as a
harvest moon.
Leah nodded approvingly, "the coat looks just fine Honey. Hannah has been
trading too, she swapped a haunch of deer meat and some of her vegetables for a
new pair of boots for you from the shoemaker Mr Swann. Try them on Darling,
won't you?
Heart swelling with joy, Heath pulled off his worn old boots and put on the new
ones, they fit real well and he felt his feet begin to warm up, for there were
no damp holes in these boots. He grinned at his mother, "boy howdy, I must
be the luckiest boy in the world this day!"
Leah's gentle eyes were glowing with love and happiness and she shook her head
gleefully. "Son, you don't know the half of it yet!"
Heath came and sat at her feet, "tell me," he begged.
Leah stroked his fair head, "well I walked all the way over to Rock Ferry
yesterday, I took some meat to old Mrs Willows, she's had it tough since Mr
Willows passed away and I wanted to be sure she had food for Christmas day. She
was real grateful and she felt bad about not being able to pay for it. I told
her not to worry and I said I'd see she got a little of whatever you managed to
hunt for us in future."
Heath beat down a stab of dismay. Another woman relying on him!
Leah read his thoughts and shook her head, "it's all right Sweetheart,
life is going to be a little easier for you from now on! Come and see what Mrs
Willows has given you."
Wonderingly, Heath followed his mother outside and round to the little lean-to
at the side of their cabin. Outside the lean-to, hitched to the rail was a
horse. Not a fancy animal or an expensive one, but a strong and reasonably
young horse, dun in colour and judging by his sensitively twitching ears, a
friendly sort. He was saddled and bridled and wonder of wonders, there was a
serviceable hunting rifle in the leather scabbard buckled to the saddle. Heath
stood stunned and motionless, just staring at the horse and the gun before
turning to his mother awed and speechless.
Leah slipped her cold hand into his, "Mr Willows bought the horse not long
before he died, Mrs Willows says he's aged about eight, so there's plenty of
work left in him yet. The gun was her husband's too, she says you can have them
both, if you'll give her some meat when you have any luck hunting."
With an effort, Heath found his voice and raised glowing eyes to his mother's
face. "With a decent gun and this horse, I'll be lucky every time I hunt
and you can tell old Mrs Willows she doesn't need to fret about a thing! What's
more you've walked all the way to Rock Ferry for the last time, from now on
you'll be riding, I'll take you."
Leah laughed at his enthusiasm, "isn't carrying two of us kind of rough on
the horse?"
Heath shook his head, "nope, he's a strong one. What's his name
Mama?"
"He's called Buck," smiled Leah.
Heath extended a hand to the stocky horse, "hey there Buck, you and me are
going to be friends Boy!"
Buck whinnied gently and thrust a velvet nose into Heath's caressing hands. A
minute later Heath was in the saddle and trying the powerful animal's paces
around the cabin and back. He sat and looked down at his smiling mother, his
own heart was filled with joy but it warmed him to see her so happy too. Hannah
and Rachael came out to join them and Heath grinned at his little family. He
contemplated the years ahead, with Buck, he could range far further afield in
his hunting and the new rifle would be more than adequate, allied to his deadly
accuracy to keep hunger from the door of his beloved mother and adopted aunts
and from old Mrs Willows door too.
Tomorrow, thought Heath, he would ride over to Rock Ferry and thank Mrs Willows
for parting with the two most valuable things she owned, her husband's horse
and gun. He would assure her that she could rely on him, just as his own dear
family did. With a heart suddenly bursting with confidence and hope for the
future, Heath threw back his head and yelled, "merry Christmas everybody
everywhere!"