Merry Christmas

The presents were done, the scattered wrapping was picked up and my family had disappeared into their corners to go over their loot.

New books were being cracked, games were being explored and clothes were getting tried on.

I was jittery from too much coffee, too much breakfast and too much conversation. I looked out the front window and watched Mort and Okie burling through the fresh snowdrifts piled high in their pen.

My father,silent in his stocking feet, appeared next to me and stood with his arms folded, looking at our horses.

“They’re wound up,” he said.

“They need to be ridden,” I told him.

“The snow’s pretty deep,” he answered.

“Let’s go ride across Carlson’s pasture. You know he kept the cows in. The snow will be incredible!” I shot a quick look at him, trying to read his mood.

The dairy across the street from us sported the flattest stretch of land around. I had envisioned a race across those fields more than once, but Dairyman Carlson was not open to horses riling up his milk cows.

When I turned around my father was gone.

I sighed and pushed my forehead against the cold glass of the picture window. It had been a nice thought anyway.

“Are we riding or not?”I heard my father bellow up the stairs.

I hustled to the basement and started shoving my feet into my boots.

“Where should we go?” I asked as I shrugged into my coat.

“Didn’t you want to go to Carlson’s?"

“Well yeah, I guess we need to go ask him.”

“I already called him, he thinks we’re a little nuts, but he said go ahead,” Dad told me.

Our boots knifed through the knee deep powder.

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as we walked down to the horses. This was going to be so cool.

I saddled Okie and checked his feet for snow pack. The bottoms of his hooves were clean and bare. He nudged me with his nose and pulled at the back of my jacket.I pushed his face away as I stood up. His nostrils were lined with frozen crystals, his forelock and the long hair under his jaw hung in Rastafarian icicles.He swung his head around again for a rub and I scratched his forehead. His goofy, half white clown face made him hard to resist.

Mort headed off in a trot as my Dad swung into the saddle. He was already snorting and snapping his tail in anticipation, eager to get the show on the road.

Okie stood quiet and waited for me to get my feet in the stirrups. He walked off a few steps and then broke into his easy, swinging trot. We caught up before Dad got to the main road.

Our good dog Jud came trotting behind us, snorting and grinning as he grabbed up big mouthfuls of snow.

We crossed the road and I sat back and waited while Dad opened the barb wire gate. Mort handled it with ease, a wire fence was something Okie still had to master.

We stood next to each other and looked across the wide expanse of the pasture. Not a single track marred the 40 acre field. The breeze made me wish for a hat. I squinted against the sparkling snow.

Mort growled and shook his head, slinging foam from his bit as he worked himself up.

“Are you ready?” Dad asked me, he had a wicked glint in his eye as he settled a little deeper into the stirrups.

Mort felt a race in the offing, he geared up another notch and crow hopped in place.

Okie stood looking around, his face bright and expectant. He didn’t have a clue about what was coming.

“Eat my dust,” I said and whooped as I dug my heels into Okie’s sides.

Okie bucked in surprise but when I hollered again he smoothed out and took off after Mort.

The horses shot across the field, leaping against the force of the snow. It rose up in waves above our heads as we tore through the drifts.

We reached the edge of the pasture and made a big loop along the back fence. The horses necks were becoming wet with sweat and we slowed them for a few strides. Jud had been following behind in the horses tracks. He was covered in the snow kicked up by their heels. He jumped to the side to get out of our way and sunk to his eyeballs. He jumped and rolled, goofy with excitement.

Okie rooted against his hackamore asking for more rein. I felt the rough horse hair reins running through my stiff, red fingers and let him go.

I leaned forward and felt him surge, his strength and confidence building with every jump.
My dad and Mort pulled up alongside and we zig-zagged back across the field, sending sheets of snow into the bright blue sky.


Merry Christmas, Janet