by Natalie Dean
And music . . . as Clara thought of the beloved hymns, carols and tunes which turned the Christmas season into a modern-day choir of angels, she wondered how anyone could celebrate the holiday without recourse to music. They would be able to enjoy the Ellis musical tradition thanks to the piano which Harley had bought for Hazel. But what about the people in the mining camp? And despite Peter’s assurance that the miners knew about the birth of Jesus, Clara was not convinced that they had any connection to the Christmas story at all.
The dilemma gnawed at her as she went about her daily routine, but she could not gather all of the pieces within the frame of this most peculiar puzzle. Christmas was simply something which happened; that had been her experience. December came and the weather turned cold and the dark nights seemed to be building toward something deep and mysterious that gave light to the shadows of winter. It connected, in ways she did not understand, with Minnie’s sadness and Hazel’s unanswered questions about the young girl who looked so much like Harley Wyatt but whose parentage was unknown and not spoken of. The great expanse of Colorado seemed to hold too many mysteries in its boundaries. Music, in some form, would help to solve the mysteries, Clara thought, but she did not know how to bring this resolution to pass.
Chapter 12
Clara woke up the following morning and the answer was entirely clear. A Christmas performance, of course, for the residents of the mining camp. They would do a pantomime of the story of the birth of Jesus while someone who spoke English would read the story from the Bible. As many of the inhabitants of the camp did not speak English, they would know the story by what was taking place before them. After the pantomime, she and her sisters would sing Christmas carols and songs which would bring home the solemnity and grandeur of the holiday. Then, when that was done, they could serve refreshments of some kind . . . doubtless hot coffee for the adults and something for the children, and Christmas cakes.
It was perfect and it would make the holiday much more meaningful than whatever the miners would manage on their own.
Peter was willing, when she told him of her plan, to construct a stage. “It’s best to keep it simple,” he warned her. “There’s not room nor is there lighting for anything extravagant.”
She hadn’t thought of lighting. That was a salient point. “I’ll speak to Hazel about it for her ideas.”
“What about your other sister? Aren’t you going to include her?”
“Of course, if she is able. I told you that she is very busy now, with the sheep. They are . . .mating now, and apparently this is something which requires Minnie’s assistance, the manner of which I do not know and do not wish to know. Minnie is an alto.”
“A what?”
“An alto. Her voice. She has a good voice, but she and I don’t have the same range. Hazel will play. I wish our Mother could be here for Christmas,” Clara said. “She both sings and plays beautifully.”
“That’s a long distance to come for a visit,” Peter commented. “Are your parents elderly?”
“Not, not at all, but Mother has been . . . frail of late. I do not think she would be up to the trip. Father would, but he would never leave Mother, especially for the Christmas season. It is a very special time in our family.”
“This one will be a hard one, then, with the three of you far away.”
“Yes . . .Hazel is due for a visit soon. Perhaps today. I’ll discuss the performance with her and see what ideas she may have. What a pity we cannot move the piano to the camp so that it could be played there.”
Peter looked at his wife in disbelief. “I’m still aching in my lower back from lifting that blasted piano,” he said. “Even if Harley did give his consent, I wouldn’t be volunteering to move it. It’s where it belongs and it can stay put.”
“It’s Hazel’s piano,” Clara said. “I suppose it would be up to her whether it could be moved or not.”
Peter finished his coffee. “You sure do get some outlandish ideas,” he said as if he found this one so incredible as to be worthy of laughter.
Clara bristled at the notion that having a piano brought to the mining camp so that Hazel could play and Clara could sing for the miners at Christmas was such a preposterous idea, but when she mentioned the thought to Hazel, who called the following day, she was equally dismissive.
“Perhaps some of the other men could play, the ones who have instruments? I am sure there must be those who have guitars or banjos,” Hazel suggested.
Clara’s expression did not need words to convey her views on using guitars and banjos, played by the miners, for the performance. One of the miners had an accordion, but it was clear that Clara had no intention of inviting him to participate.
She decided that the subject of the music could be postponed for the time being. Her sisters would sing and that was all that was necessary. But there was the problem of a stage for the pantomime.
“I wish we had a stage here,” Clara said. Her darling little house would be the perfect site for it, but there wasn’t room. “The mining camp is dismal, you must admit.”
Hazel doubted that much would be needed for the scenes. “Could you not paint scenes on cloth,” Hazel suggested. “Something to show the manger, another to show Herod’s castle?”
That was just what was needed, Clara declared. Peter would build the stage so that the cloth scenery would have sufficient support, and the participants could stand in their places while their part of the story was being told. How fortunate it was that Hazel was skilled at drawing.
Painting was a different matter, but Hazel said that she was willing to try. Perhaps Minnie would be up to helping with the singing, she said.
Clara found it unfortunate that Minnie’s life was so taken up with sheep that she could not devote herself to holiday events more suitable for an Ellis. “She knows more about sheep than any woman of my acquaintance,” she said. “I suppose it is just as well that Mother and Father cannot come to visit. They would be quite horrified, I am sure, to see that Minnie is now tending to sheep.”
Hazel disagreed that their parents would be horrified, but she wished that there was some way for Mother and Father to come West for Christmas. Clara agreed, of course, but as there was no way for this to occur, she could not perceive any purpose in wishing for what could not be.
“It would be so good for Minnie, though,” Clara said to Peter that night as they ate dinner. “I think she misses Mother and Father a great deal.”
She told him that Hazel was going to paint scenes on cloth so that the mining camp children could act out their roles without needing to speak.
“You’d be advised to go to the camp,” Peter said, “and let the folks know. I’ll come with you.”
“It’s rather soon for that,” Clara said. “Most of them don’t speak English and they won’t know what I’m talking about.”
“If they don’t know now, Clara,” Peter said gently, “how the heck do you expect them to know what you’re talking about when it’s time for this thing to take off? Best to let them know soon. I’ll go with you; I don’t want you traipsing through the mining camp on your own. Not that you wouldn’t bring in a good amount of money.”
“What do you mean?”
Peter told her that the number of women in Colorado was so small—which she already knew—and the number of miners with wives or women the same, that some of the miners had been known to pay in silver or gold just for the privilege of looking at a woman.
“It sounds vulgar!” Clara declared, aghast at such a practice. “I cannot believe that you would even speak of me in such a context.”
Peter just smiled. “Now that you’ve given up wearing that dratted corset,” he commented, “your figure looks even better than it did before.”
Clara would have preferred it had Peter not mentioned that she had dispensed with wearing her corset. It was a subject of some distress to her, but once she went without it, she had found the comfort infinitely preferable. In the morning, her corset remained ha
nging on the screen which separated her garments from view because each day, she vowed to wear it. Yet each morning, there was a perfectly good reason for her to postpone wearing it until the following morning. Her only fear was that Peter, in one of the impish spirits of mischief to which he was prone, would mention this in front of her sisters.
Her fears nearly came to fruition, but not through any folly of Peter’s doing. The next time that Hazel came to call, she brought the cloth painted scenes with her so that Clara could view them. It was a rather blustery day and Hazel suggested that they ought to go inside and view them from the bedroom, where there was room to look at them from all angles.
Clara, her skin taking on a somewhat rosy hue, immediately rebuffed this idea. “Downstairs will serve just as well,” she said quickly. “Let’s go inside. I’ll put on water for tea and we can plan more.”
Hazel was full of very pragmatic ideas for the performance at the mining camp but Clara considered them rather dull. How many children were at the camp? Had the families been told—in the languages they spoke—that this event was taking place? Had any of the children been asked to participate? Many of her questions echoed those that Peter had brought up but it was irksome, Clara thought, to be expected to consider such mundane details when the really important matters, such as which composers’ works ought to be featured, were not yet resolved.
She mentioned that since Peter was carving wooden toys for the children; he would likely have a better idea of how many children were in the camp. Hazel said that she was sure that Harley would be willing to provide toys for the children as well so that they could be sure to have a merry Christmas in a manner that a child would appreciate.
Clara was appreciative of Harley’s generosity, but when Hazel told her that Harley was willing to send money to Mother and Father to pay for their passage on the train if they would come to Colorado for Christmas, Clara looked as if she didn’t dare hope for this.
“Oh, Hazel, if they would come, it would make this Christmas the best ever!”
Hazel had told Clara that it was a surprise for Minnie, whose melancholic frame of mind had not eased. Gavin had been so concerned about his wife’s sad moods that he had brought the matter up to Clara for her thoughts.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said that Christmas is a very special time in our family and we have so many traditions that it is possible that Minnie is feeling homesick. I didn’t ask him, but I wonder if Minnie might be in the family way?”
Hazel had wondered the same thing. Both sisters agreed that Minnie was not suffering from the same despondency which had afflicted their mother’s nerves so that she had been obliged to go to a sanitorium in the country where she could be treated in a soothing environment. That was not Minnie’s problem at all, they concurred. If she was homesick for a Christmas holiday that meant so much to all of them, who could blame her.
Hazel cautioned her sister again. “Not a word to Minnie.” It was possible that Mother and Father would not be able to come and the disappointment would be ruinous for Minnie, worse than if she had never even known there was a possibility of them coming.
Clara replied that she rarely saw Minnie anymore, except on Sundays at church, now that she and Gavin were so consumed with the business of raising sheep. Hazel, who knew her husband’s opinion of those who chose to raise sheep over cattle, did not wish to dive into the topic. But then Clara brought up the matter of their husbands and what Mother would think of the men.
“Peter is always amiable and appreciative,” Clara said. “I think he and Father will get along very well. I don’t know if Mother will take to him right away . . . he does require some getting used to.”
Hazel disagreed that Mother would find Peter difficult to appreciate. “If he’s a good husband to you, and you feel that he is, then Mother will be sufficiently pleased.”
Clara thought that her parents would be even more pleased if Peter had struck silver by the time they arrived, if they were coming, but she couldn’t expect Hazel to understand this. Hazel was married to a rich rancher; how could she possibly understand that it was such a trial to have to wait for fortune to strike so that the Silver Belle Mine could bring them wealth beyond imagining? Then she would be able to send money for Mother and Father as well.
But, as she could not do that, she would be better employed sending them a letter, a very persuasive letter, adding her pleas to those of Hazel so that their parents would realize how much they were missed and how much their presence would add to this first Christmas in Colorado.
Chapter 13
The demands incumbent upon Clara as the driving force behind the Christmas performance for the mining camp had required that she give up her reluctance to drive the wagon if she hoped to meet with Hazel more often. Peter had grinned and suggested that she might want to give Angel a try if she was uneasy with the wagon, but Clara had not found this comment amusing.
“That camel is vile,” she replied as he hitched the wagon to the horse for her after they finished their breakfast. “I cannot think what possessed you to own one.”
“Let me know when you want to go to the camp, so folks know what you’re planning. It’s getting closer to December. You don’t want to be waiting too long.”
“The performance is going to be for Twelfth Night, so that we can include the Wise Men,” Clara said, “and that will be in January anyway.”
“Clara,” Peter said, his expression that of affection and exasperation, “you’ll have to talk to them sooner or later. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Then why do you say you want to come with me?”
“Because I don’t want some lovestruck miner trying to make advances to my wife,” he answered, enfolding her in his arms and running his hands along her back, freed from the encapsulation of the corset. “And I don’t want you taking the rifle and shooting some poor son of a gun because you think he might try.”
“I hope that, if my parents do come,” she said severely, “you will not speak of me with such a lack of respect.”
Peter burst into laughter. “Sweetheart, I reckon your folks will be able to tell that I love you more than any Bostonian ever could. They didn’t have hopes for you and that Bodkin fellow, did they?”
“Father detested him. Mother said he was a boor.”
“You see? If your parents come, we’re going to get along first rate. Do they know that you kissed him?”
“I told you, he kissed me, and no, they do not.”
“Something else to hold over you,” he said as he lifted her into the wagon.
“I’ve put out bread for your lunch,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you for dinner.”
“Bread suits me fine,” he told her. “You don’t have to be working all the time, you know.”
Clara, in a movement that even surprised her, curved her hand around his cheek. “You’re much better as a husband than that Everett Bodkin could ever have been. Peter, if my parents do come . . . you will get a proper shave, won’t you?”
Peter laughed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he said. “You know that.”
She did know that, Clara reflected as she slapped the reins against the horse’s backside and it moved forward. It was a novelty to be handling the reins but the horse was docile and she made her way to the Wyatt ranch without any problems.
The sisters wasted no time in going to the parlor to begin practicing the songs that would be sung during the performance, even though Hazel was of the opinion that they ought to include songs that would be familiar to the miners rather than just ones by famed European composers. They were in disagreement on the subject when Harley came into the parlor and handed Hazel a letter. From Boston.
Hastily, Hazel ripped open the envelope and began to read while Clara tried to peer over her shoulder so that she would know if Mother and Father were coming.
Hazel read aloud from parts of the letter, taking an interminable time in Clara’s view to reach an
answer on whether or not the Ellises were coming to Colorado for Christmas.
Finally, “They are coming!” Hazel cried out in joy.
Harley told Hazel to let him know what rooms she wanted her parents to stay in, and what furniture would be needed, and he would set several of the hands to the work.
To Clara, Harley said, “Hazel and I will be pleased to buy toys for the children in the mining camp. How many are girls and how many are boys? So we know what to buy,” he said when Clara looked at him blankly.
“I’ve no idea,” she said. “Peter and I will be going to the camp soon. I shall be able to answer you then.”
“Best make it soon,” he said. “The general store will run out of toys if we wait too long.”
But Clara’s thoughts were not on the mining camp but on the news from Hazel’s letter. After Harley left the parlor, Clara said to Hazel,
“We must work especially hard now, so that Mother and Father will be proud of us and of our singing. Surely Mother will join us,” she said confidently.
“Let’s not put too much on Mother,” Hazel advised. “Remember that she has been fragile of late and the traveling will be wearying.”
“Nonsense! If Harley is paying for the tickets, he will see to it that Mother and Father travel in luxury. The journey will not be wearying for them at all. They shall be so excited to come here and only think how Minnie will react when she sees them. She must come to the train station; Gavin will have to concoct some excuse to lure her there.”
“He will be glad at the news,” Hazel nodded. “I spoke to Minnie not so long ago, after not seeing her in church for two weeks. She says she is well and does not understand why she is so disconsolate. I asked her if it is perhaps because she is missing home. She did not deny that, with Christmas coming, she thinks more of Boston than she thinks she should, but she doesn’t want Gavin to know her thoughts. She fears that he would feel it is his fault that she is feeling this way.”
