by Trinity Santoro
SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY, CALIFORNIA, DECEMBER 1878
Note: This story takes place right after “White Christmas” (Tales from the Circle C Ranch)
“Mother!” ten-year-old Andi Carter screamed,
sitting bolt upright. She couldn’t move. She was buried!
Then her eyes opened. She was in her room, not
in the mountains—under her covers, not a yard of snow. It had been a dream.
Andi fell back onto her pillow, breathing hard. Downstairs, the grandfather
clock bonged twice.
Her mother, Elizabeth, opened the door and
walked in. “Andrea?” she asked softly. “Are you alright?”
Andi nodded. “It was a nightmare. A blizzard
came on, I got lost, and then I was buried alive…” She shuddered; the dream still
seemed very real to her.
Elizabeth sat down on the bed. “I’m sorry,”
she said sympathetically. “Your adventure yesterday must’ve really shaken you.”
Andi nodded. “That was the first blizzard I’ve
ever been in.”
They were silent a few moments. Andi remembered
the previous day, when she and her older brothers Justin, Chad, and Mitch had
gone into the Sierra Mountains to cut a Christmas tree and been caught in a
snowstorm. Her mother had been so worried when they’d gotten home. But why? Her
brothers had been through a few snowstorms before. Had she been worried because
Andi was there?
“Do you think you can fall back asleep?”
Elizabeth asked, breaking into Andi’s thoughts.
Andi closed her eyes for a moment, but visions
of her nightmare replayed in her mind, and her eyes popped open. “No,” she
admitted. “My dream was so scary…” Her voice trailed off.
“I understand,” Elizabeth assured. “A long
time ago, something scared me so badly I couldn’t sleep—except this wasn’t a
dream.”
Thoughts of snow and fear fled. Andi’s ears
perked up. “Tell me, Mother,” she begged.
“It happened eleven years ago, when Mitch was
nine,” Elizabeth began. “Your father told me the tale when they got back. He’d
decided it was fine for him to go along for the tree-cutting expedition, and
Mitch was ecstatic. They left after breakfast. I watched them go and wondered
if it was a good idea for Mitch to go. Later I thought I would never be as
worried as I was then…”
December 1867
“Hooray! We’re going tree-cutting,” Mitch
chanted excitedly. He sat in the wagon bed as it rattled up the hills. “Thanks
for letting me come, Father!”
James Carter laughed. “You’re welcome, Son.
You’ve earned a day off school.”
James and his sons Justin, Chad, and Mitch
were traveling into the Sierra Mountains to cut a Christmas tree. They had
packed jackets, mittens, and wool blankets so they wouldn’t get cold. Elizabeth
had given them a picnic lunch to take along, and they all brought their
snowshoes. The horses, Twilight and Diamond, shook their manes and whinnied as
they trotted up the hillside.
This will be fun, James thought. But his mind kept going back to his conversation
with Elizabeth before they’d left. Elizabeth had expressed worry that Mitch was
too young to go, but James was sure he’d be fine. James frowned. Of course Mitch
would be fine. Why was he worrying?
It wasn’t until the sun was nearly to its
zenith when they reached the snowline. Mitch squealed in delight; he’d only
been in snow once. He gawked at the beautiful snowy scenery, and James smiled
too.
“When will we get to pick the tree?” Mitch
asked later.
James looked around. So far, there were only
pine and oak trees. A few scraggly firs dotted the distance, but he knew they’d
have to travel higher to find a good, tall white fir to fit in their parlor,
and the ceiling was at least ten feet high. “A little longer,” he replied, and
reined in the horses. “Boys, put your warm clothes on. The snow is too deep to
drive anymore, so we’ll walk from here.”
“Can we eat lunch first?” asked Chad as he
buttoned his coat.
James chuckled. “I don’t see why not.”
When they were bundled up, James passed out
delicious-looking roast-beef sandwiches that made everyone’s mouth water.
“Mmmm,” Chad sighed with his mouth full.
“These are so good.”
When they had demolished the sandwiches and
pie packed for them, James pulled four pairs of snowshoes from the wagon.
James made sure everyone had their warm
clothes on before he tossed the horses’ reins around a branch and they headed
out. At first, the snow was only a foot high, but as they trudged higher up the
mountain, the snow became deeper. James, Justin, and Chad easily broke their path,
but Mitch was falling behind.
“Hold on, guys,” James called. “I think we
need some snowshoes.” He handed them out and helped Mitch lash the large,
awkward-looking shoes to his boots—Mitch hadn’t used them in two years. “You’ll
get used to it,” James assured.
Mitch hesitantly took a step, then another. He
knew how to use them, but he was out of practice; he tripped and fell into the
snow. James patiently helped him out and they continued.
Every now and then Mitch took a nosedive into
a snowbank, but he slowly adapted to the awkward shoes. James stayed back with
him while Chad and Justin hurried ahead.
“Come on,” James encouraged. “Our ‘Tree
Meadow’ isn’t that far. You can help pick out the tree.”
Mitch brightened at the promise and hurried
up. “Father, do you think there’ll be a snowstorm?”
James laughed. “No, Mitch. I don’t think so.”
Mitch seemed disappointed.
When they tromped into a clearing a few
minutes later, they found Justin and Chad examining different kinds of trees.
James smiled at Mitch. “Alright, go find one.”
As Mitch hurried off—as fast as he could with
snowshoes—James glanced around the meadow. Pines and firs stood proudly
throughout the clearing, but most had deer damage, were too small, or too big.
Twenty minutes later, Mitch sighed in
discouragement. “We’ll never find a good tree,” he grumbled. His older brothers
quickly assured him that it usually took far longer to find one. Mitch sighed
and continued searching. Occasionally, he thought he’d found a nice tree, but
it ended up flawed somehow. The group fanned out in search of the perfect tree.
James studied them again, and his gaze fell on
a beautiful Douglas fir. He circled it and scanned every inch of the young
tree. It was proud, about ten feet tall, and handsome. “Guys, come here! I
think I found it.”
His sons trudged over, and when they saw the
tree, Chad’s eyebrows shot up. He handed the ax and saw to James. “It’s great,”
he remarked. Mitch looked disappointed that he hadn’t found it.
James knelt and scraped the snow from the
tree’s base in preparation to chop it down, and at first, the children watched.
But when Mitch scooped up some snow and flung it at Chad, an all-out snowball
fight began. Justin and Mitch teamed up and built a snow fort while Chad
assailed them with hard-packed snowballs.
Chuckling, James shook his head. He picked up
the ax and swung it hard.
As he worked, his mind wandered. Interesting, he
mused. Douglas firs are usually at a higher elevation than this.
Elizabeth loves Douglas firs, though. She’ll love this tree! This will look
good in the parlor…
Five minutes later, James sighed and exchanged
the ax in hand for the saw. It must be near one o’clock, he
thought, glancing up.
His heart sank in horror. No! Not
here! God, help us!
Andi gasped. “Was it a blizzard?” she asked
anxiously.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. In all the years of
tree-cutting done in the mountains, that was the biggest snowstorm they’d ever
had. It scared your father to death.”
“What happened?” Andi begged.
“A snowstorm!” Justin gasped when he, too, saw
the dark clouds. “Father, what do we do?”
James had only been in a blizzard once, but he
knew they needed shelter. “Quick! Back to the wagon!”
Mitch’s eyes widened. “I knew we’d
have a storm!”
“We need to get to shelter, now!” James left
the tree, scooped up Mitch, and broke into a run, followed by Chad and Justin.
“What about the tree?” Mitch exclaimed.
Panting, James ignored him. Chad and Justin
sprinted past him. James dodged a tree and caught sight of Chad and Justin
hurrying off. Heavenly Father, help us get through this storm. Bring us
all back safely.
The cold air seeped through James’ jacket and
made his teeth chatter. His breath froze in the air, leaving a cloud of vapor.
He shivered.
A few falling snowflakes landed on his face
and melted, but soon walls of descending snow obscured his vision. Just as he
started to wonder where Chad and Justin were, he heard a cry.
“Father! Over here!”
By now, the light was fading fast. James
hurriedly followed Justin’s faint voice through the trees. His oldest son and
Chad were crouched by the wagon, which shielded them from some of the stinging
snow driven by high-speed winds.
“What do we do?” Justin had to yell to be
heard.
James set Mitch down. “We need to build a
shelter of some kind,” he hollered back.
Chad glanced around nervously. “How about
under the wagon?” he suggested. “We could make walls of snow around it to block
the wind.”
“Great idea!” James exclaimed. “Mitch, I want
you to take cover in the wagon. Cover up with the blankets.”
“Yessir!” Mitch, sensing the urgency,
scrambled into the wagon and out of sight. James, Chad, and Justin began
gathering and packing snow. In the hurry to get to the wagon and build the
shelter, James couldn’t tell whether five minutes or thirty had passed.
He pressed the last bit of snow against the
wagon and, feeling frozen as an icicle, yanked the blankets out of the wagon.
“Mitch!”
Mitch stood and jumped from the wagon. With
teeth chattering and skin shivering, it was apparent the little boy was cold.
James dropped to the ground and stuffed the
blankets one by one under the wagon, where Chad spread them out.
When that was done, James straightened and
whirled. “Mitch! Get under—Mitch?”
The place where Mitch had stood a minute ago
was empty. James glanced wildly about. “Mitch!” he cried. “Chad, Justin!
Where’s your brother?”
Chad and Justin crawled from the shelter and
stood up. “Mitch!” Chad yelled. “Where are you?”
Panic raced through James. No,
no! I’ve lost Mitch in a snowstorm! God, please help me find him!
Within moments, James, Chad, and Justin were
searching around the wagon for Mitch, calling out frequently. However, they
were cold and could barely see through the waves of falling snow, and they
found no trace of him.
“Where is he?” James cried. Although he
searched for footprints, the snow and wind erased every mark made in the snow.
It was hopeless. The trio searched for half an
hour, but James knew they’d freeze to death if they didn’t take shelter
soon. But what about Mitch? he wondered as they sorrowfully
crawled under the wagon.
James plugged the hole with more snow, leaned
against the wall, and wept. I’ve lost my little boy! God, why? Oh,
please make this storm leave so we can look for him.
“They waited for hours under the wagon,”
Elizabeth continued. “Your father spent the whole time praying for Mitch’s
safety—and their own. He couldn’t sleep. Neither could I—I could see the dark
clouds on the mountains; we had a rain and windstorm here. I had no idea where
they were.”
Andi’s eyes were rivetted on her mother. “What
happened next?” she blurted.
Elizabeth smiled and resumed her story…
For a long time, the three crouched under the
wagon. James poured out his heart to God, pleading with Him to return his boy
safely. When the howling of the wind finally slowed, James woke Chad and
Justin. He crawled to the hole he’d blocked and scraped the snow away.
“C’mon, guys! We have to find Mitch.” James
wiggled out from under the wagon. He stood up and gasped, dazzled by the
beauty. White snow, which was everywhere, sparkled in the early morning
sunlight. We were under there for almost a day? James
wondered. His growling stomach confirmed how long he’d been without food.
Chad and Justin groggily squirmed out of the hole.
“Did we find Mitch?” Chad mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“No, but hopefully we will soon,” James
replied. “Come on—we’ve got to find him.” James knew that there was very little
chance Mitch had survived the storm, and even if he had, they might not find him
in time.
But they had to try.
James had no idea where Mitch had gone and why
he’d left. He sent Chad and Justin out in different directions and set out
himself. “Remember, whistle if you find him!” James called. Alright,
God. Please help me find my boy.
Despite his hunger and fatigue, James hurried
through the snow. “Mitch!” he yelled. “Mitch, where are you?”
There was no reply.
Regardless of his unsuccess, James continued
searching. He rummaged around in snowbanks but was unrewarded. Mitch was gone.
As James trudged through the snow, he suddenly
realized that, despite the blizzard, he recognized where they were—the meadow
where they’d found the tree. He scanned the clearing for any signs of life, but
the snow was perfectly smooth. James crunched his way through the snow,
searching desperately for Mitch.
Just then, the snow beside where he’d stepped
moved. “Mitch?” James asked uneasily.
The snow moved again, and suddenly a small
creature lunged out of it.
James’ heart sank in disappointment. It was a
baby rabbit, not Mitch. It sat back on its haunches, studying him. Then it
leapt back into the snow.
Curious, James peered in after it. What he saw
made him gasp. “Mitch!”
Mitch lay curled up under layers of snow,
looking frozen. James broke a bigger hole and pulled out Mitch. Hopeful, he
felt for a pulse. There was none.
God, no! James
cradled Mitch, his heart broken. Maybe he’s still alive, he
thought, but he knew it was a vain hope. He needed to get Mitch home, now.
Mitch lay still on his bed, eyes closed,
unmoving. Several blankets were piled nearby. John Weaver, the town’s new
doctor, was rubbing Mitch’s bare chest, trying to warm him.
“What do you think, Doctor?” Elizabeth
asked anxiously. “Will he be okay?”
Dr. Weaver sighed. “He was exposed to severe
weather conditions. He has a condition called hypothermia, which means he’s
frozen. If he’s warmed up too quickly, his body will be stressed out, but if he
isn’t warmed quick enough, he could die. He also has mild frostbite on his
face, but other than that, he did a good job of covering exposed skin.”
James frowned. “But I couldn’t feel a pulse.
Is he still alive?”
“It’s possible,” Dr. Weaver replied. “Extreme
cold makes a person’s heart beat so slowly they seem dead. But I’ve revived
several people some thought lifeless.”
James gazed at his motionless son. “God, help
him,” he whispered. “Please.” He glanced down, where a little baby bunny
snuggled in his arms. They’d found it in Mitch’s pocket, and James was still
deciding what to do with it.
The doctor kept rubbing. “Elizabeth, James…
Hypothermia can affect peoples’ brains—especially if they were exposed to as
severe weather as Mitch was. If he does wake up, he could have brain problems.”
He frowned. “Where did you say you found him?”
When James explained how he’d found him
huddled under the snow, Dr. Weaver nodded. “Severe weather like that affects
your brain. People with hypothermia forget where they are and how cold it is,
and they do strange things.”
“Is there hope?” Elizabeth asked.
Dr. Weaver nodded. “But, if he doesn’t wake up
within the next hour, I don’t think he’ll make it.”
James’ heart sank. God, please save
him.
Half an hour later, Mitch’s eyes fluttered
open and he sat up. Elizabeth gasped in delight and hugged him tightly. “Oh,
Mitch! We were worried you wouldn’t make it.”
Mitch blinked. “You… found me,” he whispered.
“Mother, where’s Snowball?”
Elizabeth glanced at Dr. Weaver. “Snowball?”
“My bunny.” Mitch glanced around, saw the baby
rabbit in James’ arms, and a smile spread across his face. James handed it to
him, and Mitch hugged it. “Snowball and I found our snow fort and took shelter
in there. I remember being really cold, but then I felt warmer and went to
sleep.”
James raised his eyebrows. “I wondered where
that little guy went. Snowball helped me find you.”
Mitch patted Snowball affectionately, then
exhaled and looked around. “Father, I’m sorry for leaving. I saw Snowball and
tried to catch him so we could protect him from the storm, but he ran off. When
I finally caught him, I realized how far away I’d gotten. I tried to come back
but ended up by my snow fort. It was really cold, so I burrowed into there.”
James hugged him. “I forgive you, Son. I’m
just glad you’re alive. Even though you wandered off because of Snowball, I
found you because of him.”
Mitch grinned. “There’s just one thing to
ask,” he remarked. “Can I keep Snowball?”
“Wow,” Andi breathed. Her father, who’d died
years ago, had cared so much about his children. “I wondered why Chad, Mitch,
and Justin knew what to do in the snowstorm yesterday. That story sounds
similar to what happened yesterday.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Now you know why I was so
worried when you didn’t get back from your trip until yesterday.”
Andi nodded thoughtfully. “Also, I do vaguely
remember Mitch having a bunny when I was little.”
“Snowball lived to a ripe age of seven,” Elizabeth remarked. “Mitch loved that bunny. ‘Snowball,’ he always said, ‘saved my life.’ And I believe that’s true.”
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