Scar eased out of bed the next morning, being very careful not to wake Liz. She could sleep late because it was Saturday. The house seemed extra cold, so Scar picked up his clothes along with his moccasins and vest and slipped out, closing the door behind. After dressing, he kindled the fire and put water on for coffee. As he walked around waiting for the coffee, he noticed his feet weren’t as painful as yesterday. After drinking a cup, he put on his coat and hat and headed for the barn to feed the stock. When he opened the back door, snow was coming down at a fast rate. If it continued, they’d have several inches on the ground by nightfall. In the barn, both the horse and Maude were in their stalls waiting to be fed.
Scar had returned to the kitchen when Liz walked in. “Good morning, Liz,” he said. “Hope you slept well.”
“I did sleep well, but I overslept,” she said. “It’s time to feed the stock.”
“I’ve already done the feeding,” he said with a smile.
Liz looked at him in amazement. “Were your feet up to it?”
“I did fine. They’re not hurting at all today.” He lied a little.
The weekend was fairly quiet. Liz graded papers and worked on other school projects while Scar stayed with his Blackstone book. Sunday morning started with a delicious breakfast before heading for church. As they headed out, they saw Rebecca coming their way, so they waited for her. She sat beside Liz during the service. When it was over, Liz introduced her to several people who were standing around talking.
Scar and Liz were walking home with Rebecca after church when Rebecca asked if they knew when Jake might be visiting them again. Scar said he was sure he’d be coming later on in the week.
On the way home, Liz asked, “Why did you say Jake would be visiting later this week? He very seldom comes to Flat Peaks.” Scar smiled. “Times have changed, Liz. He has a reason to come now.”
Scar hadn’t mentioned it to Liz, but he had plans to go see his old friend, Eli, as soon as she left for school Monday morning. It was a struggle, but he managed to get his boots on before slipping into his sheepskin coat and putting on his hat. He raised his collar against the cold breeze when he stepped outside on his way to get Maude.
“What brings you out?” Eli asked when Scar came through the livery’s door, leading Maude.
“I’ve taken all of the confinement I can stand, Eli. It’s time I’m out and about.”
The old friend reached for the coffee pot set on top of the potbelly stove and then filled Scar’s cup. He pointed to a chair not far from the stove. Scar removed his coat and sat down. They sat in silence for a couple minutes.
“I can tell you have something on your mind. What’s bothering you?”
Scar squirmed a little and then took a drink before answering. “Eli, I’m nineteen years old, and I’m married to a wonderful woman, but I have no idea what I’m going to do to make a living. I have no plans.”
“What about the job you have now? The marshal’s position the governor created.”
“It doesn’t amount to much, Eli. It’s only temporary at best. It’s likely to be eliminated at any time. To be honest, I don’t like the work. I don’t like to be away from Liz and my friends as much as it requires. She hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure Liz wants me to work at something different.”
“How about working for the Double D? The way its herd is expanding, Herb will need more hands. And besides, you’re the reason he has the ranch in the first place. You provided part of the money from the money your pa left you, and the Indians have stayed away because of you.”
“You’re right in a way, Eli, but I don’t figure it like that. What I did was only a small payback for all they’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for Mr. and Mrs. Douglas.” There was a pause. “On top of that, Liz would have to give up her teaching job. It’s too far to drive back and forth from the ranch. I couldn’t do that to her.”
“It seems to me she’d have to give up her teaching job if you took on another job…that is unless you find work here in Flat Peaks.” Scar frowned and shook his head. Eli continued, “If I were you, Scar, I’d have a long talk with Liz about the matter. Her thoughts might surprise you. Most likely things won’t change for a year or two, but you and Liz need to have plans for the future and be ready to act upon them when the opportunity arises.”
“Thanks, Eli. That’s good advice. I’ll talk with Liz about it. She’s very smart and open-minded about things like this.”
Eli rose to fill their cups. “What do you want to do, Scar? What’s your dream?”
Scar looked to the floor after a long pause, giving Eli’s question his full attention. When he looked up and their eyes met, he said, “I’d like to be my own boss, Eli. I’d like for Liz and me to make our own decisions that guide our future. I know we’re young, but I believe we can handle it.”
“I have no doubt about it,” Eli said. “What do you want to be boss of?”
Without hesitation he responded, his eyes bright. “I’d like to be a rancher. I’d like to own a ranch…a horse ranch.” But then the brightness left his eyes as he continued, “I know it’s not possible, Eli. It takes too much money. I’ll have to be satisfied doing something else.”
“You have a bad attitude, Scar. Never give up on your dreams. They’ll become a reality if you work hard, make plans, and chase after them.” Scar nodded. He remembered his pa telling him the same thing. The words were a little different, but their meaning was the same.
»»•««
Christmas was only a week away, and winter had set in. Due to the area’s high altitude of nearly five thousand feet, most days were below freezing with gloomy, low-hanging gray clouds. Snow showers occurred almost daily, adding to the accumulation on the ground.
With school out for Christmas vacation, Liz stayed busy preparing for the holiday. She decorated their house with simple handmade figurines and hung popcorn strings and other small Christmas ornaments on the pine tree her husband had cut.
This was the couple’s first celebration in their own home, and Liz wanted to make an impression. One evening Rebecca helped Liz bake cookies and make candy. Many nights Liz worked into the late evening sewing and knitting items for presents. Scar was given the task of making something for Little Eagle and running errands for his wife. He also delivered bags of cookies and candy to their town friends, who in turn had gifts for them.
Two days before Christmas, Scar and Liz went to the Double D. They found the ranch house decorated beautifully. Candy and cookie dishes were scattered about on tables in every room, and in one corner of the sitting room stood a decorated tree nearly touching the ten-foot ceiling. Large presents were lying underneath, and smaller ones were stuffed onto tree branches. Everyone was in a joyous mood and hustled about humming tunes. Morning Sun kept coffee and hot chocolate warming over the fire, with platters of cookies nearby. Her holiday meals were exceptional, with a wide array of food. Two or three kinds of pie were always available following the main course, which caused people’s belts to be loosened. Folks joked with her and made a big to-do over her meals, believing she was enjoying the celebration as much as they were. However, Mrs. Douglas knew otherwise, and when they were alone, she asked, “What is it, Morning Sun? You’re putting on a good front, but I can tell you’re unhappy. Is something wrong? Has someone said something that’s upset you?”
Morning Sun turned toward Mrs. Douglas with tears in her eyes. “I am not mad at anyone. I am treated very well…I like the ranch very much.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
The young Indian woman stood looking out the kitchen window for a full minute before she answered. “The soldiers killed my husband last Christmastime. Little Eagle and Little Turtle almost died. We had no food—no shelter—no buffalo robes. Christmas is not a good time for me. God does not like Morning Sun.”
Mrs. Douglas gathered Morning Sun in her arms and held her tightly for several minutes. When the women separated, both had tearstained cheeks. It made no difference. One was red, and one was white. Both had broken hearts.
Morning Sun went to the sink to wash dishes, and Mrs. Douglas poured coffee and sat down at the table remembering the situation as if it was yesterday. Christmas was approaching, and Thomas had gone to the food storage cave behind the waterfall to fetch a hindquarter of beef. When he entered the cave, a young emaciated Indian mother and two children were huddled behind the food shelving looking at him with large glassy eyes. Somehow, he was able to calm them and brought them to the ranch house where, over time, they became a part of us. Mrs. Douglas smiled as she continued to reminisce. Within four months I taught Morning Sun to speak English and some of the white man’s ways, and likewise, the young Indian woman taught me some of her tongue and ways.
She was in deep thought when Morning Sun came to the table and sat across from her. Minutes passed. Then Morning Sun reached for Mrs. Douglas’ hand. Words were slow in coming, but finally, the young woman’s black, penetrating eyes stared into Mrs. Douglas’. “Why does God not love Morning Sun?”
Alice Douglas had never been put in this position before. Every aspect of her belief and faith was being tested. Am I ready to give my testimony? Can I give Morning Sun an answer that’ll change her mind to believing God loves her more than she can imagine?
“Morning Sun,” the older woman began. “If you and Little Turtle were walking on a rocky cliff and she fell and broke her leg, would it be your fault? Should Little Turtle blame you for breaking her leg?”
“It is not my fault her leg is broken.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t your fault. What would you do? Would you leave her alone on the cliff because of her broken leg? Would you stop loving her?”
“I would not leave. I would fix the leg. I would take care of her. I love her.”
“That’s the way it is with God. He didn’t cause your husband to be killed. He didn’t cause you to be abandoned and nearly starve. But because it happened, He took care of you and your children because He loves you. He brought you to a safe place where you would meet folks who love you.”
“That is a good answer,” the young woman said with a slight smile. “Do you think God loves Morning Sun?”
“I know He does. He loves you more than you love Little Turtle.”
“That is a lot of love,” the young mother said.
Minutes had passed when Mrs. Douglas started to stand, but Morning Sun put her hand on the older woman’s arm and said, “Do not get up.” Mrs. Douglas obliged, and again they sat without words.
The cups were nearly empty when the young woman spoke. “Little Eagle, Little Turtle do not have a father…need a father.” Time lingered before she continued, “I do not have a husband…I need a husband.” Mrs. Douglas nodded as she reached across the table for the grieving woman’s hand. She knew what was going through the young woman’s mind.
“Do you want to go back to your people, Morning Sun?”
The young woman paused, looking into the unknown. “Someday I will live with my people…and find a husband,” she said. Then shaking her head, she smiled and said, “Not for many moons.”
Supper was over and the dishes were cleaned as folks found chairs in the sitting room for the passing out of presents. Jake and Morning Sun sat on the floor. Liz, Little Turtle, and Little Eagle were ready to hand out the presents when Little Eagle hurried to his mother and whispered something in her ear. The whole clan looked her way with questioning eyes. “He said…why do we not say happy birthday like was said to Mr. Douglas on his birthday?” Mr. Douglas stood and motioned for Little Turtle to stand beside him. “What a wonderful idea, Little Eagle. Why don’t we make it a household tradition? Let’s say Happy Birthday Jesus, before handing out the presents?” Everyone nodded their agreement. “It’s settled then. On my count of three, let’s all shout it out.” He started counting in a loud voice, “One…two…three. Happy birthday, Jesus.”
After the presents were handed out, the unwrapping began. They were simple gifts of little commercial value, but to the receivers, the gifts were priceless. All had been handcrafted by the people they loved. Liz gave Little Turtle a rawhide necklace with a small deer antler point hanging from it. “That’s like yours,” Little Turtle said to Liz as she reached down Liz’s blouse to pull hers out.
“Yes, it’s exactly like mine. Bart gave me my necklace on our very first Christmas at the ranch, and I very seldom take it off.” Liz looked at Scar and smiled.
“I have a necklace too,” Little Eagle called out as he held up a rawhide strip with a rabbit’s foot on it. “Scarred Warrior gave it to me.” The young boy always referred to Scar as Scarred Warrior.
“Jake told me you caught a rabbit in your trap, Little Eagle. That’s its foot. Always wear your necklace with pride,” Scar said.
“You have one. Did you kill all animals on necklace?” the boy asked.
“I didn’t kill any of them,” Scar answered. “The necklace was given to me. I’ll tell you the story someday.”