‘Twas year before last On Christmas Eve night, Out here on the prairie, It all looked to be right. I was ridin’ with Moe, Or he was ridin’ with me. I get all confused About which it should be. Them stars up yonder Was puttin’ off a shine. “Yessir,” I says “Night’s looking real fine.” “Shut yer dern mouth,” Moe tosses my way. “You’ll jinx us fer sure With them words that ya say." “I ain’t callin’ on trouble. I just made a observation. It’s Christmas eve night, You need some jollification” It seemed near evr’ year We spent our Christmas Eves Buried deep in trouble Clean up over our sleeves. So, we’d went out to search, It only made sense, To head off our problems, Looking from water to fence. On a night of peace ‘n joy ‘n all such stuff A smart cowhand knows, Don’t all-in on a bluff. We’d mounted on up, And started castin’ about, Lookin’ for our trials Afore they sought us out. “Them cows are all huddled In the southwest pasture; Seems to me they foretell Of a coming disaster.” He turned in his saddle, His stubbled face twisted up, His dander all stirred, Like I done kicked his pup. “There ya go again,” Moe said shakin’ his head. “Just button yer lips; Quit spreadin’ your dread.” “I ain’t hopin’ for bad, If that’s what you mean. I was just state’n the obvious That both of us seen.” “Well there such a thing As too much bad news. And whenever yer around It just comes in twos.” “Luck runs both ways,” I grouched back at Moe. “You ain’t no four-leaf clover, Ner a white buffalo.” “You got your own luck, And it’s just bad as me. Ain’t no sense complainin’ ‘Bout somethin’ I see.” We rode out the fence, Countin’ all five, Looking for a break, A stretch, or a drive. The sky was all gray, Like dread hanging low. The kind of ol’ sky What might rain or might snow. We counted their heads. We counted them all. Found one a missin’, As her calf began to bawl. I looked at Moe, He nodded at me. It was that mangy one horn, None as stubborn as she. It had to be her. Well, of all the darn luck. Ain’t no tellin’ just where, She might get herself stuck. We rode on along, Checkin’ all that darn fence, Lookin’ for any old sign, Of that cow with no sense. The sky began to change. The wind began to rush, As we headed for the river, To search out the brush. We dared not be caught, Searchin’ there in a storm, Or hours it might be Afore a bedroll we’d warm. We searched them all out, Evr’ bramble, brush, n’ scrub. But we couldn’t find a sign, Of her nor her rub. Back to the north, We made our way slow; Our hats pushed on down, Faces slapped by the snow. I hollered above the wind, “I’ve found my Christmas wish. A shack with a fire, An’ hot beans in a dish." No longer were those stars As bright as could be. Truth be on told, Snow was all we could see. Moe shouted out, “We’ll do well to get home. It’s best we go on in, And let that lone cow roam.” Up ahead, there was movement. It just might be her. But the way that snow was swirlin’ It was only a blur. That shadowy figure, Well, it got closer each step. From down at my side, I heard a growl from ol’ Shep. We moved with caution, Not sure what we’d find. Them swirlin’ white flakes Had left us near blind. Then we both got a start, When we looked up ahead, And we saw this old man A drivin’ a sled. “Thought you two boys Could sure use a hand. I’m used to this stuff, For me it’s just grand." He had ol’ one horn Tied to the back of that sleigh. She was foller'n long Like he was showin’ the way. They moved right past, Headin’ straight for the herd, And we both foller'd on Neither sayin’ a word. Oh, we were mighty thankful, And we planned to say so, But he held up his hand, And said, “I’ve gotta go.” “The shack is warmed up, And there’s beans in a pot. Now you boys hurry along, While your supper’s still hot.” “And boys don’t forget What began this here season, T’was a little baby boy, Born for only one reason.” “So, when life’s storms stir, Causing you to lose your way, Just stop that old mare, And take a second to pray.” Most cowhands would consider, That old man’s words to be true. Though, I guess it might surprise, Just under a few. Livin’ on the land, A man develops some relation, With the One who’s in charge Of all this here creation. From the sky and the land, To the wind and the rain, From the calves and the cows, To the grass on the plain. Though we grumble and grouch We all know the same, When it all goes to the south, We call on His name. We watched as that sleigh Cut through the snow, Then lifted in air, And off it did go. I looked at Moe, Or Moe looked at me. We both shook our heads, Thinking, “How can it be?” Back in the shack, Beans and biscuit on each plate, We both did agree, “We’ll never convince ol’ Nate.” “It’s a story we could tell, A thousand darn times, And he’d call us both liars, Reminding of our crimes.” Spoons ‘ginst the plates, The blow of the wind, The crackle of the fire, Quiet sounds began to blend. Time passed slowly, Our thoughts all tangled, Wore out from the day, Like a bull we’d just wrangled. Flakes swirlin' out the window, Moe voiced the question we both did ponder. “You Reckon that old feller, Really likes all the snow he gets up yonder?” -- C.E. Lemieux, Jr.
