From the Improvement Era, December 1935 –

Christmas Knight

By Sylvia Ruth Grant

Bob’s interest in the new school teacher had first been aroused by the unprecedented spectacle of Denny brushing his shaggy locks of his own free will.

Mother Lloyd, sitting at the breakfast table, had said from force of habit without glancing up, “Now, Sonny, don’t forget your hair,” and all the time Denny had been so engrossed in his labors that he hadn’t even heard her.

Bob, gazing in both amazement and amusement, had asked in mock severity, “Denfield, are you sure that you are quite well today?”

Denny always made it a point not to answer when addressed by his scorned given name so he went on serenely brushing his hair.

“Oh, I know – the lad has fallen at last for Rosie Mitchell’s black curls,” Bob went on.

“I guess not,” began Denny, “that snub-nosed, freckled faced –” he paused for lack of adjectives and breath.

“By the way,” said Bob with sudden inspiration, “Dick Crane was telling me that you kids had sure drawn a homely teacher this year.”

“She is not!” exploded Denny, holding the brush weapon-like in the air. “She’s a peach and as pretty as anything.”

“All right, all right,” soothed Bob. “I was just repeating what Dick said. So that explains the phenomenon,” he mused.

“Explains what?” demanded Denny.

“:Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

“Well, you’d better be. You hadn’t better be practicing any of your fancy grammar on me just because you’ve been away to college.” Denny carefully adjusted his helmet and came to give his mother a hasty kiss on the cheek.

Bob had a sudden inspiration, “I’m driving into town today, kid,” he said with elaborate unconcern. “I’ll come for you after school.”

“Okay,” called Denny as he snatched up his books and ran out of the door.

Bob timed his arrival so that he reached the schoolhouse just as the last child was leaving. As Denny climbed into the car he said, “You sit here a minute, son. I have a message for the teacher. Here’s some candy you can do away with,” and he handed over the bag of sweets he had had the forethought to provide.

Bob walked quickly toward the little one-room schoolhouse in order that he might not lose entirely, before he reached the door, the courage that he felt beginning to slip away. Once inside he looked up to the teacher’s desk and was sure even at that distance that he had never before seen eyes so deeply blue, so graced with long, black lashes and so delightfully friendly.

She smiled and stood up as Bob walked toward her and he remembered in a sudden panic that he had forgotten to ask Denny her name or to provide an excuse for his coming there.

He clutched at the first idea that came in his head and began, “I am Bill Rossiter and I came to see how my three children are getting along.”

She shook hands with him and indicating a chair near the desk invited him to sit down. Resuming her own seat she said, “The children are doing nicely, Mr. Rossiter. I was wondering why Jane was out today.”

“Oh, Jane – well, you see, she had a slight cold.”

“That’s too bad. And have you decided to have Tommy’s tonsils out?”

Bob coughed in slight embarrassment.”Well, not until spring. We thought it could wait until then.”

The girl’s eyes twinkled as she said, “All this is very enlightening in view of the fact that there are only two Rossiter children, and their names are Ellen and Fred.”

Bob glanced at her for one panicky second to see how she was going to take it and then broke into a broad grin as he saw the smile that lurked in her face.

“To tell the belated truth,” he began sheepishly, “I am Bob Lloyd, the older brother of the lad called Denny, but I thought that I had better lead up to the fact gradually and with tact.”

“Indeed,” she responded indignantly, “I’m very fond of Denny. I think he’s a splendid boy.”

“His mother will be very glad to know that someone besides herself holds that opinion.” Bob very casually reached over and picked up a book from the desk. he looked at the flyleaf and then continued, “But you will like all of us Lloyds when you get to know us, Miss Dennis.”

“Your second error,” she laughed. “That book belongs to a friend. My name is Eileen Moore and what makes you think I am going to know the Lloyds better?”

“I do. Don’t you think a grand way to start would be for you and me to go over to Lincoln to the dance next Saturday night?”

She hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Well, we might try it and see.”

“Fine!” Bob’s enthusiasm was cut short by the appearance of Denny in the doorway.

“Were you planning on driving home tonight?” he asked dryly, “or would I make time by walking?”

“Coming right now,” answered Bob, thankful that the candy hadn’t given out three minutes earlier. “May we drive you home, Miss Moore?”

“Thank you – I live at Peabody’s, just across the street.”

“Oh – goodbye then until Saturday night.”

“What about Saturday night?” asked Denny suspiciously when they were seated in the car and headed for home.

“Nothing special,” answered Bob carelessly. “I just thought it would be nice to help Miss Moore get acquainted around here so she wouldn’t be so lonesome and I asked her to go to a dance Saturday night.”

“Swell,” said Denny. “We’ll all go.”

“Oh, no. Just Eileen and I.”

“I see.” Denny was highly resentful. “What you mean is that you think it would be nice for her to get better acquainted with you – and where do you get that ‘Eileen’ stuff?”

Bob, who had been mulling the name over in his mind and thinking how very lovely it was, had spoken it aloud unconsciously and had no answer.

Denny lapsed into a black silence, brooding on the inequalities of life that made one brother, utterly undeserving, twelve years older and therefore eligible to take the beautiful teacher to a dance, while he, Denny, could only adore her in school among twenty other pupils.

Evidently Bob found the dance an excellent place in which to further acquaintance because he persuaded Miss Moore to go again the following week. he also seemed to find hiking a splendid aid and later on he took the pretty teacher skating and bob-sleighing.

He grew to have an air of pleasant benevolence in his dealings with Denny which the latter very much resented. Denny looked for some signs im Miss Moore of what he termed “mooning” but decided that she had too much sense to fall in love with a guy like Bob.

As the Christmas season approached Mr. Lloyd found it necessary to send Bob out to Marquard on a business trip. The city was thirty miles away through a snow-filled canyon and the trip could be made at this time of the year with sleigh and horses only.

Ordinarily Bob dreaded the trip in winter. It took a full day’s travel each way and was likely to be very cold and monotonous. This time, however, he was glad to go. It would give him a chance to buy Eileen a Christmas present. The few country stores offered nothing half fine enough to suit his fancy and the mail order catalogue was so well known in the community that almost anyone could identify an article purchased from its pages. No, it would really be worth the trip to be able to go through a regular store, or a dozen stores if necessary, to find just the right gift for the lady of his heart.

When he told Eileen of the proposed trip, she suggested enthusiastically that he buy the presents for the school Christmas party. Bob received the suggestion with far less enthusiasm. The idea of roaming the stores for trumpets, dolls, and whatnots for twenty-odd school children did not appeal to his sense of the fitness of things in the least but if she had suggested that he personally roll and decorate snowballs for her charges he would have set gallantly to work.

Bob set out on a cold clear morning just three days before Christmas. This would give him one full day in Marquard for his business and shopping and he would be back home again on Christmas Eve in plenty of time for the school party.

Bob had never seen the snow-covered mountains so dazzlingly beautiful before – the dark pines so majestic in their drapings of white or the winter sky so blue, but then he had never before driven through the canyon when he was in love. In fact, he had previously considered it merely thirty miles of road to be covered as quickly as possible.

He reached the city in good time, arranged for the care of his horses, and had his supper. Afterwards he went “window shopping.” The entire city was like fairyland with its brightly colored lights and tinsel trimmed windows. The displays were alluring and he tramped up and down for a couple of hours trying to decide which gift would be most suitable for the loveliest girl in the world.

At last he saw it in the window of a jewelry store, a necklace of gold, antique in design, and set with sapphires as blue and sparkling as her eyes. He turned back to his hotel satisfied. The first thing in the morning the necklace would be in his possession.

Bob was tingling with excitement as he entered the store. He couldn’t remember having felt exactly like this even when he was a small boy bursting with joyous anticipation for Santa’s visit. The clerk held the necklace against a piece of black velvet. It was rich and glowing but would be even more so around Eileen’s white throat. It was expertly wrapped in a gay holiday box and was soon safe in Bob’s inner pocket.

In comparison with this momentous purchase, his father’s business seemed very trifling but Bob disposed of it with seemingly good grace and then turned to the task of buying presents for the school children. Eileen had furnished him with a list – so many books, a couple of pocket knives, bead necklaces, and dolls. He hoped that everything he bought wouldn’t be in poor taste and was quite sure that it would be.

The weather observer cheerfully predicted “a real Christmas snowstorm” for the next day so Bob arose early in order to make a good start. A heavy snowstorm seen through a window from before an open grate was very delightful. Struggling through one in the canyon was an entirely different matter.

By noon he had reached “Martin’s place” about two-thirds of the distance home. Martin was a man in his fifties who lived all alone. He had never been married and declared that he never wanted to be. For company he had two dogs and a radio which he maintained could be shut off at will and that was more than you could say of a wife. He was surprisingly well read and Bob had always enjoyed spending an hour or so with him when he was passing through the canyon.

He decided to stop now to rest and feed his horses and get a bite of hot lunch for himself. The wind had been blowing flurries of snow in his face rather lavishly and he was chilled through.

Martin was genuinely glad to see him. He enjoyed occasional company but said that he needed too much elbow room to live in town, even in a town where the houses were likely to be half a mile apart.

The horses were cared for first and then Bob was invited to a steaming hot dinner. he enjoyed it as only a person can who is chilled and hungry. He would have liked to linger for a while by the warm fire but the growing storm outside made him apprehensive. In less than an hour he arose and began drawing on his wraps.

Martin looked up in surprise. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Your horses are all right.”

“Sure, I know it,” replied Bob, “but I must get going.”

Martin drew his feet from the oven door where they had been comfortably toasting. “You don’t mean to say you’re going to drive on home tonight?”

“Sure I am. I’ve got to. It’s Christmas Eve and I have all the presents for the school party.”

“Well, I’m thinking the presents will have to wait until some other eve. It’s drifting right now and you’ll never in the world get your team through this road today.”

“Then I’ll have to leave my team and borrow some snowshoes. They’re depending on me and I can’t disappoint them.” Bob was impatient with the old man. What was ten miles over the snow compared to disappointing those youngsters? What was ten miles compared to not being able to give to a girl a necklace with sapphires that matched her eyes?

“I’ve a good notion not to let you have any snowshoes,” said Martin in a final effort.

“All right then – I’ll go without,” responded Bob cheerfully.

Martin brought in the snowshoes as Bob put the toys into a flour sack and adjusted it to his back.

“Well, you’ve got St. Nick’s bag all right,” the old man said, “but you could use the sleigh that flies through the air to a lot better advantage.

“I could at that,” agreed Bob.

“I kinda wish you could carry a gun,” suggested Martin thoughtfully, “but I guess you can’t.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly. But I’ll be all right. Wild animals are usually just as much afraid of a man as he is of them.”

“Yes – usually. I’ll tell you what though,” said Martin. “You take this hunting knife. It won’t be in your way and you’ll feel kind of safer to have it along.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m ready,” said Bob, pulling on his heavy gloves. “I’ll be back in a few days for the team. Thanks a lot – and merry Christmas!”

Martin glanced apprehensively at the drifting snow as Bob went out of the door but called cheerfully, “Goodbye, Sir Galahad, and good luck.”

The first hour Bob made rather good time. He was rested and warm and tingling with the spirit of adventure. He knew that he had gone more than a mile and figured that if he could keep up the pace nearly this well he would reach home by dark. The Christmas party would begin at seven and he must reach home by that time if it was at all possible.

In the next mile the going was harder. The snow kept blowing in his face, wetting it and making him thoroughly uncomfortable. The bag on his back grew heavier. He began to think that perhaps he had been a fool to risk his life to bring some kids a few toys. Risk his life! that was silly. There was no need to grow dramatic over it just because Martin had suggested a gun. Of course there were always coyotes about but they had never been known to attack a man, and wolves were not numerous through here.

He began to get chilled and thought enviously of Martin’s cozy, warm room. Never mind – there was warmth at the end of his trip too, only another five miles away now. Five miles wasn’t so far and he would be out of the canyon for the last two of them.

He struggled on over great drifts of snow. The road was completely obliterated by now, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that he must go on and on. How much easier to stop – the snow looked soft and warm, but it wasn’t. it was cold and cruel. It drove at your eyes so that you couldn’t see. It caught at your feet and tried to draw you deeper into its treacherous softness. It sent the cold into your hands so that they became numb and you were swinging arms that tapered off somewhere midway down. It attempted to hide grey forms that slunk along through the pines on the side of the mountain.

Dusk was falling. If he could only get out of the canyon before dark. He must do it. he summoned every ounce of energy left and stumbled blindly on.

He was almost exhausted when he reached the mouth of the canyon. Another two miles to go and it was long since dark. He couldn’t possibly make it. Bert Tanner’s farm was a quarter of a mile away. he would stop there – if he could get that far – and let them take his pack on to the party.

He was almost to their gate when he heard their sleighbells. They were driving out. What if they missed him! They must not. He couldn’t stand that after all he had been through.

He shouted. It was too feeble. No one could hear that and they would never see him in the falling snow. He reached the road just a minute before they swung into it and waited there. The horses stopped before Mr. Tanner realized why. He jumped out and removing Bob’s snowshoes and bag of toys, pulled the half frozen lad into the sleigh.

When they reached the school they helped Bob into the Peabody house across the street where Eileen boarded. He urged them to leave him alone, that he would be all right as soon as he warmed up a little – just to tell Miss Moore that the toys had come.

He was pacing the room trying to drive some of the ache out of his limbs when Eileen hurried in followed by Santa Claus. Bob indicated the toys and she thrust the bag into Santa’s hands.

“Here,” she said, “give these out. Just use your judgment as to whom they go – and the candy and nuts are in the rear closet. I’ll be back after a while.”

After Santa had left she tried to cover both Bob’s cold hands with her small warm ones.

“Why – why did you do it?” she asked tremulously. “You might never have come through.”

“And would it have mattered?” asked Bob with a catch in his own voice.

“Yes – very much,” she admitted, lifting the blue eyes to his for a moment and then hastily looking down again.

Half an hour later Denny left the party and came over to Peabody’s to see what had become of the teacher. She had promised to dance a Virginia Reel with him. He stopped at the window and looked in. Then his mouth opened and he stared in amazement.

There was the teacher and Bob – the big stiff – sitting on a couch and Bob had his arms around the teacher. She had a new gold chain around her neck and was looking all misty and starry-eyed.

He stared at them for a few minutes and then turned slowly back to the schoolhouse. He guessed he would go and dance with Rosie Mitchell after all.