shoulders. “I do hope he’ll be warm enough out there in that trailer.”
“Henry knows how to take care of himself. He’ll be fine.” Crouching in front of the hearth, Shane opened the cast-iron door of the fireplace insert. It was as Muriel had said. The wood chunks were skillfully laid with newspaper and kindling underneath. After making sure the damper was open, all he had to do was light a match. Within minutes a crackling blaze was warming the room.
Shane made himself comfortable on the couch. Hunter wandered in with his phone and settled in a corner.
“Now this is cozy!” Kylie sipped the last of her lukewarm cocoa. “The old days must’ve been like this. Candles for light, a fireplace to keep warm . . .”
“And no TV to watch.” Amy’s voice reflected her sour mood.
“When I first came here as a little girl, we didn’t have anything like TV, or even a radio,” Muriel said. “The first summer, we lived in a tent while my father built the oldest part of this house, with the kitchen and bedroom, and a sleeping loft for me and my brother. Even after it was done, we didn’t have electricity till the power company strung a line out here. That first winter we kept warm with the old iron stove my mother used for cooking. It had a tank on one side—a ‘water jacket,’ they called it. It heated water for dishes and our Saturday-night bath. I was about your age, Hunter, before we finally got an indoor bathroom.”
That got Hunter’s attention. “You mean you had to go outside to—”
“That’s right. We had an outhouse—‘privy’ was the polite word for it—behind where the machine shed is now. On cold winter nights, it could seem like a very long walk. Sometimes when we went out there, we could hear coyotes howling. I remember how they used to scare me.”
“Were you pioneers?” Amy asked.
“Pioneers?” Muriel chuckled. “I’m not quite as old as that. But it was after a time called the Great Depression when a lot of people were out of work. It was a common thing to be poor. My father got this piece of farmland from a man who had to move away. He traded our old truck for it. We were lucky to have land, but we were poor, too.”
“I bet you at least had a Christmas tree,” Amy said. “Everybody should have a Christmas tree, even if they’re poor.”
Kylie sighed. “I hear you, Amy. Believe me, I haven’t given up.”
“We didn’t have money for a tree,” Muriel said. “But there was usually a party with a tree and Christmas carols at the church. If we were lucky, we got a few pieces of candy and an orange. But we didn’t get many presents. I remember one year the present I got was a pair of warm socks my mother had knitted. I do believe I still have those socks somewhere. They have a few holes now, but they kept my feet warm for a long time.” There was a catch in her voice. “We didn’t have much in those days, but we knew what we had was precious.”
Muriel’s hands kept busy as she talked. In the faint light, Shane could see a gray wool sock taking shape beneath her knitting needles.
“When my mother died, I was just fourteen and had to do the cooking and take care of the house,” she said. “I managed to finish high school but couldn’t go to college. When my brother—that would be your grandfather, Kylie—was seventeen, he took a job as a cowboy on one of the big ranches so we’d have a little money coming in. Even then there was never quite enough.”
“Are you telling us kids that we don’t have it so bad?” Amy stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “Not even if our dad died in the war and we had to leave our nice house in California and come to this cold, awful place where there’s nothing to do? Last Christmas was bad. This Christmas is going to be worse! This is the worst time in my life!”
“That’s enough, young lady!” Kylie was on her feet. “We’re lucky to be here. You should be grateful to have a roof over your head and
“Henry knows how to take care of himself. He’ll be fine.” Crouching in front of the hearth, Shane opened the cast-iron door of the fireplace insert. It was as Muriel had said. The wood chunks were skillfully laid with newspaper and kindling underneath. After making sure the damper was open, all he had to do was light a match. Within minutes a crackling blaze was warming the room.
Shane made himself comfortable on the couch. Hunter wandered in with his phone and settled in a corner.
“Now this is cozy!” Kylie sipped the last of her lukewarm cocoa. “The old days must’ve been like this. Candles for light, a fireplace to keep warm . . .”
“And no TV to watch.” Amy’s voice reflected her sour mood.
“When I first came here as a little girl, we didn’t have anything like TV, or even a radio,” Muriel said. “The first summer, we lived in a tent while my father built the oldest part of this house, with the kitchen and bedroom, and a sleeping loft for me and my brother. Even after it was done, we didn’t have electricity till the power company strung a line out here. That first winter we kept warm with the old iron stove my mother used for cooking. It had a tank on one side—a ‘water jacket,’ they called it. It heated water for dishes and our Saturday-night bath. I was about your age, Hunter, before we finally got an indoor bathroom.”
That got Hunter’s attention. “You mean you had to go outside to—”
“That’s right. We had an outhouse—‘privy’ was the polite word for it—behind where the machine shed is now. On cold winter nights, it could seem like a very long walk. Sometimes when we went out there, we could hear coyotes howling. I remember how they used to scare me.”
“Were you pioneers?” Amy asked.
“Pioneers?” Muriel chuckled. “I’m not quite as old as that. But it was after a time called the Great Depression when a lot of people were out of work. It was a common thing to be poor. My father got this piece of farmland from a man who had to move away. He traded our old truck for it. We were lucky to have land, but we were poor, too.”
“I bet you at least had a Christmas tree,” Amy said. “Everybody should have a Christmas tree, even if they’re poor.”
Kylie sighed. “I hear you, Amy. Believe me, I haven’t given up.”
“We didn’t have money for a tree,” Muriel said. “But there was usually a party with a tree and Christmas carols at the church. If we were lucky, we got a few pieces of candy and an orange. But we didn’t get many presents. I remember one year the present I got was a pair of warm socks my mother had knitted. I do believe I still have those socks somewhere. They have a few holes now, but they kept my feet warm for a long time.” There was a catch in her voice. “We didn’t have much in those days, but we knew what we had was precious.”
Muriel’s hands kept busy as she talked. In the faint light, Shane could see a gray wool sock taking shape beneath her knitting needles.
“When my mother died, I was just fourteen and had to do the cooking and take care of the house,” she said. “I managed to finish high school but couldn’t go to college. When my brother—that would be your grandfather, Kylie—was seventeen, he took a job as a cowboy on one of the big ranches so we’d have a little money coming in. Even then there was never quite enough.”
“Are you telling us kids that we don’t have it so bad?” Amy stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “Not even if our dad died in the war and we had to leave our nice house in California and come to this cold, awful place where there’s nothing to do? Last Christmas was bad. This Christmas is going to be worse! This is the worst time in my life!”
“That’s enough, young lady!” Kylie was on her feet. “We’re lucky to be here. You should be grateful to have a roof over your head and
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