The Rifle

by Rian B. Anderson

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It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling
like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough
money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted so bad that year for
Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just
figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So
after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of
the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still
feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood
to read scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up
and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done
all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy
wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there
was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's
cold out tonight."

I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle
for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no
earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I
couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a
night like
this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when
he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and
got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened
the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the
house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it
was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I
could tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to
haul
a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly
climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't
happy.

When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped
in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put
on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me."

The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to
do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to
do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.

When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed
and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer
hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and
splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked,
"what are you doing?"

You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow
Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year
or so before and left her with three children,
the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said,
"why?"

"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging
around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood,
Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the
woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him.

We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses
would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then
we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of
bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and
wait.
When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder
and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little
sack?" I asked.

"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks
wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I
got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas
without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence.
I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by
worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of
what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw
into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and
flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so
why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of
this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been
our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded
the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and
shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice
said, "Who is it?"

"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a
bit?"

Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket
wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and
were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly
gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally
lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the
sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack
that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes
out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the
children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her
carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears
filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at
Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said, then he turned
to me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let's get
that fire up to size and heat this place up."

I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the
wood. I had a big lump in my throat and, much as I hate to admit it,
there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three
kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with
tears running down her cheeks and so much gratitude in her heart that
she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy filled my soul
that I'd never known before. I had given at Christmas many times before,
but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were
literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The
kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and
Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her
face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she
said. "I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children and I have
been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the
tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact
terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it
was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked
the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his
way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought
on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I
was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes
to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the
Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood
up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a
hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they
missed their pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs.
wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner
tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a
man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals.
We'll be
by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones
around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was
the youngest. My two older brothers and two older sisters were all
married and had moved away.

Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I
don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He
will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and
I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me
and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been
tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that
rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who
owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square.
Your ma and me were real
excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started
into town this morning to do
just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the
woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I
had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for
those children. I hope you understand."