Ralph Helfer by Modoc: The True Story of the Greatest Elephant That Ever Lived

against the cold gray sky. Carrying the same morbidity, all things looked the same. Water stopped running, lakes and streams turned to ice.
    For some perhaps, winter brings joy and cheer—a time to play, to ski the mountain slopes, to sled, to skate, and to throw snowballs. For those who care for livestock, who worry about lasting the winter, as Josef did, to see if they still had jobs in the spring, who strove to provide enough heat and food for their families and the animals just to stay alive, these were times of depression. Times of survival.
    The Gunterstein barn had always been used for the circus’s winter quarters. Josef, good soul that he was, offered it, and Herr Gobel, greedy man that he was, accepted. He never offered Josef an extra pittance for allowing the animals and some equipment to stay there. Gobel supplied the animals with food, but even that came scarce.
    Traditionally some performers set up sleeping arrangements within the barn and helped to care for the livestock. Bram felt it was really to shelter those who didn’t have a place of their own during the winter months. In truth, it did more. There was an undercurrentof fear running through all of them, fear of the loss of the circus. It was more than their jobs, it was their lives. The circus kept the “family” together.
    The roustabouts securely tied down everything at the circus grounds so the blustery driving wind and rain wouldn’t carry it away. A few were left there to guard the heavy equipment. Gray, dismal skies never altered the pale look of everything. The hay bales in the barn were slowly being depleted, being used for both feed and bedding. As the season took its course, the domestic stock—cows, horses, pigs, goats, and the barnyard birds—had taken a liking to the exotic animals, especially Modoc, and on particularly cold nights they would huddle up to her for the warmth her large body could offer.
    “That old man, Herr Gobel, hasn’t even been by to see us this winter,” Katrina observed. Josef was gripping his stomach as his ulcers again declared their painful existence. This was not lost on his wife. “It’s because he knows you’ll take care of everything for him,” she continued. “You’ve spoiled him rotten, you know.”
    Josef hadn’t eaten a full meal in the last week. His skin had no color to it, and the gaunt look in his face bespoke the worry in his heart.
    Weeks turned into months, and as the snow piled deeper against the old barn, the road leading to the farm became completely impassable. Anyone entering had to brave a small path that paralleled the road. It zigzagged through the bleak grove of sycamores and over the small bridge that straddled the slopes where the runoff of melted snow from the mountain poured down in the summertime.
    Over the past year Bram had tried to see Gertie as often as possible, but the constant storms and bad weather conditions kept them apart. Even schools had been closed, and telephone lines had been down for some time. All Bram could think of were the wonderful moments they’d spent together, especially at Cryer Lake. These tender thoughts were always in his mind and helped carry him through some of the cold winter nights.
    Late on a Friday evening, when the storm clouds had disappeared for the first time in many weeks, a bright cold sky asserted itself. A third-quarter moon lit up the countryside. One light burned in the farmhouse that sat still and alone in the snow-covered valley. Smoke drifted up from the chimney as Katrina finished making a kettle of potato-corn soup and six or seven dozen raisin-nut cookies. The cookies had been Bram’s favorites since boyhood. She smiled at the thought. He was, of course, still a boy, but he had gotten so big and was handling so many chores that sometimes she saw more of the man in him than the boy.
     
    “Maybe it is the weather,” Himmel suggested.
    A small group gathered around the fire that Josef had built in the early weeks of