It was a Lovely Christmas
Big Timber, Mont.

She vowed she would not cry this Christmas,
but it was hard to be strong,
For the freighter in that winter of ’81
was late ” what had gone wrong?
Their place was the depot for all the ranchers from 80 miles around,
They expected their goods
on Christmas day;
how she hated to let them down.
When a rough old cowhand
who stayed with them
(Old Eb was all of his name),
Said, “Things’ll turn out,
don’t worry, Ma’am,”
she raged, then felt ashamed.
Eb swore a lot and seemed so cross,
she never knew just why,
But he was polite; John trusted him,
so she kept her thoughts inside.
The day before Christmas,
she made 10 pies
with venison, apples and raisins,
Plus one extra for husband, John,
who grinned and sang her praises.
The cookstove consumed
great stacks of wood
as she roasted, boiled and baked
Antelope steaks, big pieces of venison,
snow geese, and cake.
Things were ready for all the guests,
but there were no presents or tree,
Or gifts they’d chosen
from the wishing books,
dreaming how Christmas would be.
Then a stomping of horses
she heard without “
“The freighter! He’s here!” she cried,
“He’s here!”
She ran to open the door.
And laughing, brought him inside.
She could have kissed
the grizzled driver,
and maybe he thought she might,
For he back-tracked out
of her warm bright kitchen
as if he’d taken fright.
The freighter and John
unpacked the goods,
marking each neighbor’s belongings;
She envied Daisy’s
packet of needles,
and gazed at them with longing.
But later, one came back to her “
in a handmade Christmas card;
In greetings for women,
Daisy threaded a needle;
for men, a pencil starred.
There were bright shiny cups
for the children,
and popcorn still on the cob;
She and John
rubbed off the kernels,
and John said
he’d make them pop.
She made red coloring
and dipped the corn
for the children
to thread on strings;
Old Eb and the freighter
brought in boughs
laden with cones like wings.
Half a day’s travel
the freighter had lost
to gather those boughs
and that tree;
And everyone helped
hang garlands of corn,
it was pretty as a tree can be.
Then shyly, Old Eb
brought in some rum
and said that he’d be glad
If she would make toddies
for all the folks,
for this was all he had.
She passed cups ’round,
steaming hot,
and John raised his and declared,
“Merry Christmas!” but Eb,
he stomped his foot,
then glowered, grumped
and glared.
“That ain’t’ no way to do it,”
he said,
(he added a lot of swearing),
“Bow your heads,
and I’ll say what’s fittin’.”
(She knew that she was staring).
“Dear Lord,” said Eb,
“here we all be,
we’re just a bunch of critters
Out here in the hills,
but we got us some meat
and fixin’s for Christmas dinners.”
“And we’re gonna remember
tomorrer about
the manger and the Babe “
Now then, folks, drink ‘er down.”
Eb tossed off his with a wave.
She sipped her toddy,
then said she ought
to find her mouth-harp player
For music during
the Christmas carols;
in her room, she said a prayer.
And had that crying spell after all
for misjudging Eb in her mind;
And because she was happy, too,
and so grateful the freight had arrived in time.
John came in and hugged her tight
and held her a moment or two,
Then went to greet
a sleigh-load of guests,
and ” she ” got busy, too.
It was a lovely Christmas.
USDA to mail additional pre-filled applications to producers impacted by 2020, 2021 disasters
WASHINGTON — The U.S. Department of Agriculture today, Aug. 18, announced another installment (phase) in assistance to commodity and specialty crop producers impacted by natural disaster events in 2020 and 2021. More than 18,000 producers…
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