Western Star (17 page)

The girls were singing at the tops of their voices by the time they returned to the Bar None. It was an easy song for them to sing, inspired by the bells on the sled’s harness. The horses seemed to prance to the music, such as it was.

Back at the lodge, the girls stepped into the warmth of a Christmas Eve celebration. The Devines, the Katzes, and the Finnegans were already gathered there. John and Walter had taken the horses and told the girls to go on in and get warm.

“You’re not going to believe what happened!” Stevie said excitedly as she rubbed her hands together by the fire.

“Tell me you saved another herd of horses!” Mrs. Katz joked.

“No, just three,” Carole said. “And they really needed saving, too.”

“It was twins!” Lisa said.

“What
are
you talking about?” Phyllis asked as she handed out hot mugs of cocoa.

“Oh, Mom, it was something,” Kate said. Everybody listened in rapt attention as the girls told the story and tried to describe the beauty of the knobby-kneed newborns. “In the end, the fillies were so tiny that they almost seemed to have to stand on tiptoe to get some milk,” Kate finished.

“But they did it,” Carole said.

“And we watched,” Lisa added.

“And it definitely made this the best Starlight Ride ever!” Stevie said.

“Speaking of the Starlight Ride, didn’t you girls say that part of the tradition is singing carols together while you have cocoa?” Mrs. Finnegan asked.

“By the town Christmas tree,” Lisa said.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a
town
Christmas tree,” Frank said, pointing to the huge spruce in the main room of the lodge, “but it’s the biggest one around. Want to give it a try?”

“Definitely,” Carole said. She could see that the Finnegans had brought their guitars.

The Finnegans led everybody else in a few familiar carols, like “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing,” and “Oh, Come All Ye Faithful.”

Lisa loved to sing, and it was fun with such truly good musicians. Whatever her feelings about country-and-western music, she had to admit that the Finnegans knew what they were doing. It was a treat for everybody there. In years past, Lisa’s favorite Christmas carol had always been “What Child Is This?” This year, however, the one that moved her the most was “Away in a Manger.” Somehow the night’s experience of helping in the foals’ births and watching them take their first sustenance gave Lisa a new view on what the stable might have been like on that winter night so many years ago. When they sang “The stars in the skies looked down from above,” Lisa looked at her friends. She knew they were all thinking the same thing. They were seeing the same stars she’d seen.

When the last strains of the song were finished, Phyllis announced that dinner was ready.

The Bar None guests followed their noses to the dinner table. They were greeted by a dinner that made Lisa gasp with pleasure and the Katzes grin with joy.

“It’s pot roast!” Lisa said. “You remembered that that’s what we always have! It’s my Christmas Eve tradition!”

“That’s not a pot roast. That’s a brisket,” said Ellen Katz. “It’s a Hanukkah tradition!”

“It’s both,” said Phyllis. “It’s two traditions in one, plus I’ve made what some people call potato pancakes and others call latkes, depending on whether it’s a Christmas or Hanukkah tradition, I guess!”

“Whatever it’s called, it smells wonderful!” Stevie said. “Can we start helping ourselves?”

“Please do,” said Phyllis.

The guests passed the platters around, and for a moment there were few sounds except that of silverware clinking on plates. Then came the “mmms” and other happy noises.

“What’s the significance of pot roast—er, brisket—and potato pancakes on Hanukkah?” Christine asked Ellen.

“It has to do with oil,” Ellen explained. “The holiday celebrates the miracle of oil, recalling when there was only enough oil to burn in lamps for one night, but the short supply lasted eight nights. We light the candles in the menorah to remember that, but we also eat foods high in fat, like brisket, or cooked in fat, like latkes. Some say we do that to remember the oil in the lamps and I suppose that’s true, but it’s also a really good excuse to eat something our doctors might tell us isn’t the best for us. Who can argue with religious tradition?”

Everybody laughed. Stevie reached for the latkes.

“Seconds already?” Carole asked.

“I have to have seconds,” Stevie explained.

“Why?” asked Lisa.

“Because they come before thirds,” Stevie reasoned, making everybody laugh.

After dinner came plum pudding—a Devine family tradition—and then it was time for the next part of the Hanukkah celebration: the lighting of the menorah.

The Katzes had brought their own menorah, one that had been in Fred Katz’s family for generations. They asked the girls to put the candles in the holder and then asked Carole, who was the youngest person there, to light the shammes—the tall candle in the center—and to use it to light all of the other eight, each representing one of the eight nights of Hanukkah, while Fred and Ellen recited the traditional prayers in Hebrew.

When they were done, Carole told everyone more about the Kwanzaa candles she and her father always lit together.

The Finnegans sang a song called “Light One Candle.”

Ellen spoke when the music was done. “I think this pair of newlyweds has just found a new Hanukkah tradition for our new life together. Thank you all for helping us celebrate.”

“Our pleasure,” Stevie said. “And besides, now you get a chance to help us do some celebrating. I saw a pretty tree over there. It’s got a few strands of popcorn and cranberries on it, but I think it needs some other stuff,
like lights, decorations, more garlands, and tons of tinsel. Will you help us?”

“I’ll hold the ladder while you decorate the top!” Ellen offered.

It didn’t take long before the bare spruce was totally covered with decorations. Some people might have thought that perhaps there were a few too many, but nobody at the ranch that night would have agreed. To those who helped and those who watched, it looked beautiful.

“Perfect!” Stevie declared, climbing down from the ladder.

The Finnegans, who had been singing “Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly” while the others had climbed to perilous heights, put away their guitars and applauded the decorators. Stevie took a bow.

“The only thing that’s missing is presents,” said Carole. She’d meant it to be funny and her friends laughed, but it reminded them that they were away from their families and, no matter how much fun they were having, that was a little sad.

“Frank, would it be okay if I called my dad?” Carole asked.

“You don’t have to, Carole,” Phyllis said, coming out of the kitchen. “He’s on the phone. He just called a minute ago. You two must have some kind of ESP!”

It turned out that it wasn’t just Carole’s father who
was on the phone. It was the Lakes and the Atwoods, too. Since Carole and Lisa weren’t in Willow Creek with their families for the evening, the families had all gotten together at the Lakes’ and were having a big, boisterous party.

The girls took turns talking to everybody. Stevie even talked to her brothers. She almost told them that she missed them. She said she did have presents for them and they could open them on Saturday when she got home, and if they hadn’t gotten a present for her, well, the fact that Christmas would be two days late just gave them two more days to shop for her.

“You’re shameless!” Lisa said to Stevie when the phone call was finished.

“You have to let them know what’s right,” Stevie said. “It’s a sister’s job.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t post your dress and sweater sizes on the bulletin board,” Carole said.

“No, of course not,” said Stevie. “I put those up in their bathroom, along with a list of the CDs I want.”

Once again Lisa found herself wondering about the advantages and disadvantages of being part of a large family.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an announcement from Phyllis Devine, telling everybody they were to go to their bunkhouses and find a sock to hang up by the fireplace.

“
Clean
socks,” Phyllis called after The Saddle Club.

A few minutes later each guest hung one sock on a nail on the mantelpiece, identified by a name tag so that Santa wouldn’t get mixed up.

“Now, the next Devine family tradition is Christmas morning in pj’s and bathrobes. Nobody has to get dressed up. Breakfast at nine. And before we go off to bed, I hope the Finnegans will sing us one more carol.”

Phyllis began turning out the lights in the lodge until the room was lit only by the lights on the Christmas tree and the flickering candles on the Katzes’ menorah.

Gary picked up his guitar and began strumming softly.

“ ‘Silent night,’ ” he began. Everybody joined in.

When the last note was sung, the guests turned to go to their rooms. The girls filed out the front door and walked through the cold night under the star-filled sky to their cabin. At last they slept.

“L
AST ONE TO
the lodge is a rotten egg!” Stevie declared at eight-thirty the next morning. “I’ve got to see what’s in my stocking!”

It didn’t take long for the girls to get ready. They brushed their teeth, donned bathrobes, and pulled boots on over their socks.

“Merry Christmas!” They were greeted at the door by pajama-clad revelers. The house was filled with the welcoming smells of breakfast, and the mantelpiece seemed to buckle under the weight of twelve overstuffed socks.

“Take me to my goodies!” Stevie declared. Everybody agreed it was time to see what Santa had brought.

Each sock had an apple or an orange in it, some candies, a candy cane, and a little something special.
Stevie got a Slinky; Carole got a little picture puzzle of a horse; Lisa got a game in which she was supposed to get all the silver balls into the center of a maze. Santa had brought Christine a pellet that, when put into water, was supposed to make a magical crystal world. Nothing was very fancy, but everything was fun and given with love and care.

Carole gave all the Devines a hug to thank them for making it one of the best Christmases ever. They hugged her back.

“You’re a good part of what’s making it so special for all of us—you and your dude friends over there!” Frank said.

Then Phyllis announced that breakfast was ready.

“You remembered!” Stevie said when she saw that the menu included more than Phyllis’s traditional stollen. In the center of the table was a tray of eggs Benedict. Carole thought she saw a tear in the corner of Stevie’s eye, but Stevie swiped at her face fast, so Carol wasn’t sure. In any case, if it was a tear, it was one of joy, because Stevie attacked the breakfast with the same eagerness she always seemed to have for food. Of course, she began by scraping the hollandaise off the eggs.

“Just the way I like it,” she said, grinning broadly.

When breakfast was over the guests returned to the main room and sat by the warm fire, enjoying one another’s company.

Christine spoke. “Well, since this seems to be a time of mixed traditions, I think perhaps I should share, too. And since my grandfather has died and my mother isn’t here, it falls to me to tell our family tale. My grandfather and my mother always began the story by saying they don’t know if it’s true. They only know that this is what our family has passed down.”

Many years ago, before the first man was in this land, before the first animals walked in the meadows, before the first tree grew, before the first cloud touched the sky, there was a hawk. He flew the skies. He soared as high as the mountains. He dipped as low as the meadows. He never ate or drank and he never knew hunger, thirst, or pain. He knew only joy and curiosity.

One day, he became curious about the land beyond the mountains, and he flew to explore it. He found many wonders. He found other creatures of the land, the sea, the skies. He found trees and grass and flowers. But he longed for his own land. He flew home. It was as he had left it, and he was glad.

But as he soared over his own land, he dropped something from his talon. It was a seed that had become stuck in his claw when he was in the other land. The seed fell to the earth. It grew a root. It grew a tree. It grew grass. Flowers sprang up nearby. In the grass grew creatures and people of the land. In the tree grew birds of the air. In a stream fish flourished.

And all around the land, people grew strong and healthy
,
feeding on the seeds and the animals of the land, drinking the water of the stream.

The hawk watched from above, and when he saw the wonders that had come to his land, he flew down to look. He saw a small creature and he took it for food. He saw the water of the stream and he drank it.

The people saw the hawk eating and drinking as he had never done before and they knew that the hawk had changed the land and the land had changed the hawk. And they saw that now the hawk needed the land. They would have to care for it evermore.

There was a moment of quiet when the story was done.

Ellen Katz was the first to speak. “Thank you, Christine,” she said. “I think Fred and I may add
that
to our Hanukkah traditions as well!”