From the Relief Society Magazine, December 1966 –

Across the River

By Dorothy Clapp Robinson

Macy was drawing a reindeer on the blackboard. She stopped abruptly. “Are – are you sure?”

“How come you didn’t know? Didn’t you know that my father and Owen Collin were pulled from the river last evening more dead than alive?”

Bruce, a fourteen-year-old pupil, became more excited with each word. “You think anyone else is stupid enough to try crossing when my father can’t do it?”

Macy Bowman was teacher for the one-room school in District #214. Bruce Fraser had been kept in to finish his work. Instead, he was chewing his pencil and wrecking her plans. She dropped to a chair by her desk. She glanced to the windows where, after a brief pause, rain was playing paddle-ball against the panes.

“What about the men who went for the tree, how will they get back?”

“Didn’t go. It is thirty miles to the hills – and no one around here does things ahead of time. It can’t be helped. Rain’s still falling; Gila’s still raising …”

“Rising,” Macy corrected.

“… and,” Bruce ignored the interruption, “if the rain stopped now we couldn’t cross the river for a spell.”

“But the tree? I ordered candles and decorations for it, and they are certainly waiting at the post office.”

“Oh, getting the tree isn’t going to count much one way or the other.”

And that, Macy thought, was the very reason she must have a beautiful Christmas tree. Beauty was a thing apart from the lives of these children. Some of them could not remember ever having had a Christmas tree. She must give them an evening for memories of something beautiful.

A mere three miles separated her from the fulfillment of her plans. Three miles and an ugly river. Both the post office and store were east across the river. Everything was across the river, except this small community of scorched houses. There were no lawns, no shade trees, no public buildings, except this room which also served as a church. The people lived by the whims of the river.

Macy returned to the conversation about the river. “Can’t anything be done to make sure there will be a crossing?”

“Why, my father has been trying for years to get a dam built at the gooseneck where there is a natural reservoir.”

“How could that help? We would still have to cross.”

“It won’t stop all flooding, but it would hold most of the water for the crops. Should have gone Saturday. It was raining then, but the river could be crossed,” Bruce explained.

“Yes, but who would have known rain would be coming down in sheets on Monday?”

“Anyone who lives here could have guessed it.”

The rain was still slewing fast and hard when Macy left the schoolroom. She bent her head against the force of it. Her thoughts darted crazily about. There must be some way of getting a tree and her packages from the post office. Besides candles and decorations, she had ordered a small present for each pupil.

She spoke to Lucia Egbert, her landlady’s daughter, about it.

“What Jud can’t do, no one can do. Better put your party off until the river is down.”

“How long will that be?” Macy asked.

“Who knows? Something will come up, and the children will forget all about it. Just have the program you have planned.”

“I don’t want them to forget about it. I promised them a tree, and I must get one for them.”

If faith could move mountains, Macy thought, why could it not provide her with a tree, or means of getting one?

All night the rain continued to fall, sometimes in house-shaking gusts, then thinned to a drizzle. Morning struggled hard to announce its arrival. Macy splashed through water and mud to reach the schoolhouse. The paths had been washed away.

The room smelled damp and musty. She built a small fire in the seldom-used stove. The fire would help to kill the musty odor and dry the pupils’ caps and coats.

During the noon recess, Macy heard the older pupils discussing the flood in comparison with the other floods they remembered. “This is a lot worse than the one the year Mama died,” Bruce remembered, “and she died because they couldn’t get her to a doctor before it was too late.”

When dismissal time came, Macy knew she had to make a decision. If the residents did not know of a way, certainly she could not think of one.

“I’m sorry,” she began, hurrying lest she lose control of her emotions, “we cannot have our party as planned. You all know why.”

“You promised.” Little Angie Oliver laid her head on her desk and started to sob.

“You promised,” the phrase became a chorus. “What’s the matter with you kids?” Bob Richen tried to be heard. “You expect her to fly across the river? She is not magic.”

Then, clear and most emphatic above the other voices, came the voice of Bruce Fraser. “ thought you were different. You talk big about doing things, but you are like all the others. When the going gets touch you quit.” He snatched his coat and went out, slamming the door behind him.

Awed by such insolence, the pupils sat rigid. They avoided Macy’s eyes. The damp air that came through the opened door made her shiver. Some of the children rose to leave.

“Wait.”

The pupils resumed their seats. Macy looked to the windows. The view was anything but encouraging. Yet …

“Bruce was right,” she began slowly, “I have been teaching you that circumstances can be conquered …”

“But you didn’t know about the Gila,” Helva Justensen spoke in her defense. “We know. Why, I’ve never seen an electric light.”

Macy waited for silence.

“I’m going to stay by my promise. We will have a tree. You are dismissed.”

The pupils went quietly to the door, but once outside, they whooped with glee. When the last sound had died away, Macy dropped to her chair. Her desperation was too deep for tears. She must find some way of performing a miracle. Jud Fraser had said the community would prosper when the men learned to pull together and use the means that nature had provided. What was she overlooking?

Morning came, and Mrs. Egbert reported the Watkins family had moved to higher ground. That blotted out every chink of light Macy had seen yesterday. Bruce was waiting on the schoolhouse steps.

“I came to apologize, he told her, then, “where are you going to get a tree?”

“There must be a way – there just must be.”

A gleam lighted the boy’s eyes. “If I get a tree, can you get the other things”

A click of warning startled Macy. “Bruce, don’t you try crossing the river.”

“No, Ma’am. I told you it can’t be done.”

“Then where will you get a Christmas tree?”

“I – I have an idea. Do you say yes?”

“Yes, if your father approves.”

Instantly, the boy was on hi way, running and splashing mud all over the legs of his overalls. He had his idea for getting the tree. Now she must have one for getting the “other things.” And suddenly there it was. If she used Bruce to produce a tree why not use – the parents? Have the men make presents for the boys, the women for the girls. This was Tuesday, and the Christmas party was to be Friday evening. Not much time, but it must be done. She went directly to the home of the president of the school board.

Oh, no. No. No. The time was much too short and some of the men were not handy with their hands. Macy would not argue.

“Unless a man wants his son to be the only one not receiving a present he had better get busy. Help each other. Have them at the schoolhouse tomorrow forenoon. Belts, tool chests, bows and arrows, anything.”

The women were more easily persuaded. They were accustomed to meeting such demands.

“Our resources are at rock bottom,” Mrs. Hunter told her, “but we will find something.” She looked critically at Macy. “Since you have none of your own, suppose you provide a present for little Angie Oliver and the two Watkins girls.” She laughed outright at the surprised look on Macy’s face. “Angie’s mother is ill, and the Watkins family has just had to move to higher ground, so they are disorganized. Mrs. Watkins can’t sew anyway. Who is going to furnish the Santa Claus suit?”

“Surely, someone has one.” Macy hadn’t thought that far.

“No, Susie Fraser used to have one, but it was old and Jud burned it after she died. There has been no occasion to use one since ten. But Mandy Collin has just dyed some flour sacks for quilt linings. You might get her to use them for a Santa suit instead.”

With dragging feet, Macy walked the mile and a half to the Collin home, but she found that Mandy was adamant.

“I need them for my quilts. I sell my quilts to the miners. I am not interested in any Christmas parties, anyway. I have no children, you know.

Macy answered thoughtfully. “Santa Claus will leave a lovely memory with the children.”

But Macy had to admit defeat. The way back to Mrs. Hunter’s was endless. She was cold, tired, and her head throbbed.

“Don’t give up,” Mrs. Hunter told her. “I will talk to Mandy, but she doesn’t often give in.”

At her boarding house, Lucia Egbert met her at the door. “Come in, for pity’s sake. You look like a thoroughly drowned angel. Where in the world have you been in this downpour?”

“Hunting the Christmas spirit, and you are to supply a generous portion of it.”

“The only way I can create the Christmas spirit is to have it first myself, and the only way to give me the Christmas spirit is to give me Jud Fraser – as a present.” In spite of the lightness of her words they held undertones of despair.

“Well,” she went on, as Macy stared at her, why do you think I am hanging around here when I could be teaching in a place where a river doesn’t call the turns? It may be if you pull this party off successfully, the men will realize they can do other things together, like agreeing with Jud and the engineers who have planned the dam.”

“I wish I had the power,” Macy answered, “but right now the district needs your help. Get some older girls to help you and make cookies and candy.”

Just like that! Where do we get the sugar? I doubt if there are five pounds in the entire town.”

“Use honey or molasses.

Macy hurried to her room. She was not going to listen to logic. The entire party would fall through if she did. Her head was whirling, and she wanted nothing so much as to lie down and forget Christmas and everything connected with it, but she must be sure of presents for little Angie and the Watkins girls.

To choose for Angie was easy. Angie had never had a new pencil. Where she got the stubs that cramped her little fingers, Macy did not know. Luckily, Macy had two new ones. She tied a blue ribbon around one for Angie. She went through her possessions, but found nothing appropriate for the two little girls. In despair, she took a ribbon sash that belonged to her formal and cut two lengths from it. she tied them in hair bows, labeled them, and laid them on her dresser. Then, weary beyond words, she prepared to go to bed.

Macy went to sleep almost immediately, but an hour later she awakened, and the events of the day, the problems she faced, though reduced by the promises she had exacted, raced over and over through her mind. Many times as the night lingered on, she dropped to her knees, and her tears and prayers mingled.

Toward morning Macy fell into a troubled sleep. She dreamed the water was lapping at the schoolhouse steps, and she was trying to sweep it back with a broom. Out in the current, Bruce was swimming toward her. In one hand he clutched a small fir tree; then, just as she was about to reach her outstretched hands, an undertow of the stream caught and swept him and the tree away.

Macy awakened suddenly, hearing herself calling his name. Could the dream mean he had failed to find a tree? She could hear the wind and the rain beating about the house. She tried to get up, but she was too weak.

Later, Mrs. Egbert came in with a steaming cup of ginger tea. “If you drink enough of this and stay covered, we might break your fever so you can go to the Christmas program.” Then she added, “If there is one.”

“I must get up and help.”

“Lucia is handling the children, and if anyone can get work out of the men, Jud Fraser can – that is why he isn’t liked, He is too much of a pusher – but don’t take that for a promise. Just resign yourself to the fact that you have done everything you can.”

Friday morning, Macy awakened to see the sun shining. she was so excited she sprang out of bed and rushed to the window, but her legs were made of rubber. When Mrs. Egbert brought her breakfast she was in bed, but sitting up.

“How are things going? What have the …?”

“All we can do now is wait and see. It is a beautiful day, and that should mean something. Jud is coming in his buggy to take us to the party.”

The day was endless, but the fact that she was powerless to change anything, gave Macy a great respect and understanding for the people of the community. When defeat met them on every hand, it was inevitable that they should become apathetic.

When Jud came for her and Mrs. Egbert, he said Lucia had everything in hand, and in the schoolroom there was standing room only.

For the first time in weeks the sky was clear. From a patch of deep blue, the evening star shone with soft brilliance, dimming the light of stars clustered behind it. There was a silence, too, a hush of nature that was broken only by the muffled roar of the river. Macy was overwhelmed with a tingling spirit of worship. Christmas was in the air, here, as well as across the river.

A lighted lantern had been hung on each side of the schoolroom door, and a lighted lantern hung in each window. The soft light laid a hint of mystery over the room.

As soon as Macy and Mrs. Egbert had taken their seats, Lucia gave a signal, and all the parents and all the children united in singing, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” There were so many strong voices, and they sang with such unfeigned devotion, a listener would think they hadn’t a care in the world. After the prayers, the curtains which had been strung across the front of the room parted, and Macy gasped with relief. There were exclamations of surprise and delight from all parts of the room; a boy whistled, and two little girls danced up and down. Even the grownups were moved by the enchanting sight.

“Where did Bruce get the tree?” Macy whispered.

“Mesquite.” Mrs. Egbert’s eyes twinkled.

It couldn’t be – it just could not be. No mesquite ever grew in the shape of an evergreen. She looked about for Bruce His back was turned, but Bob smiled at her. His grin gave her a clue, and she looked more closely at the tree. It was tied, she decided, in the shape of a cone, but she could not see a rope. She could not see a leaf of mesquite. Every limb, every twig, every strand of rope was covered with rich clusters of mistletoe. The white – how could she have overlooked the impact of the white berries, but then she had never seen such clusters of them.

No candles, no tinsel, nothing in the packages in the post office across the river could add one iota of beauty to the tree. What work they had put into the making! Boys, with an imagination that produced that tree, would never be stopped by a mere river. Macy knew she would never again see a Christmas tree half so beautiful

Not to detract from the beauty of the tree presents, brought by the parents, were exhibited on desks at each side of the tree. Macy had prayed for the power t create this glorious experience, but the parents and the children had outdone her wildest dreams. When Santa came in, flaunting his red suit, Mandy Collin turned and looked at her with a flushed smile. She saw little Angie reach for her pencil and hug it close against her face.

The song “Silent Night and the fervent prayer of thanks lifted each person into full fellowship with the words of Jesus when he said, “Love one another, as I have loved you.” It was reflected on the face of each child and each adult. A miracle had been brought to pass; and Bruce would receive his thanks later.