A Mother for Christmas

by Christine Sterling

Luella laughed as Meg gasped. “Jack!” Meg admonished as she stood, the oatmeal falling to the floor. “You can do without breakfast. Go to your room right now.”

  Jack crossed his arms and looked defiantly at her. “No. I want my Pa!”

  “What’s going on out here?” Roscoe said, emerging from the bedroom.

  “I want my Pa. I don’t want oatmeal.”

  “Oh goodness,” Agnes said, spying Meg with milk and oatmeal all down her dress.

  Frank was too stunned to say anything.

  “Young man,” Roscoe said, “you need to respect your momma. Now apologize to her and let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

  “No!” Jack said again, kicking back from the table. “She’s not my Ma. She’ll never be my ma! I want her to leave!” He ran from the chair and into the bedroom, slamming the door.

  Meg saw a flash of anger flit across Roscoe’s face. He had very strong ideas of how children should behave. If they didn’t behave, then they should be punished.

  “Leave him be,” Meg said. “He’s tired. I’m tired. He’s just taking out his frustrations.” Meg watched Frank slip from his chair and walk over to the room he shared with his siblings and disappear behind the door. She wondered if Frank felt the same. “Cole can handle it when he gets home.” Meg took a cloth and started wiping her dress.

  “Go get changed, child, and I’ll get that to soak. In the meantime, I’ll feed the baby.”

  “I need to get the cow milked and gather the eggs. I might as well change when I get back. I don’t want to dirty another gown.”

  “You shouldn’t go out alone. Let me get dressed, and I’ll come to help you,” Roscoe said.

  Meg shook her head. “The fresh air will do me good.” She glanced over to the closed door leading to the boys’ room. “I need to be alone for a little bit.”

  With most of the goo brushed off, Meg put an apron over her dress to protect her coat, then bundled up and headed into the snow. She grabbed the bucket off the porch and headed to the chicken coop first. As she approached, she noticed blood in the snow. How odd, she thought.

  There was blood leading from the chicken coop to the woods, and more of the large dog prints in the snow. They must have got the chickens.

  Meg approached the coop and lifted the cover to the nesting boxes. The rooster and three of the hens were missing. That is what she must have heard during the night.

  She made sure that the last of the hens were alright and quickly gathered the eggs that were nestled in the straw. She would have to tell Cole and ask him to build a fence around the chicken house.

  Carrying the bucket, she tried to put the events of the morning from her mind. She knew that the boys were having a difficult time now with Cole being gone every day. There were three strangers in their house and no room to move. Meg joked that she would have to go outside to change her mind. It was only natural that there would be an explosion of tempers at some point.

  As she approached the barn, she noticed that the door was slightly open. She thought she had secured it the night before, but perhaps she didn’t tighten the latch properly. The poor animals being subjected to the cold wind!

  She pulled the door open wider to allow enough light in so she could light the lantern. As she entered the barn a metallic smell assaulted her nostrils. If she didn’t know better, she would say that was large quantities of blood.

  As she stepped further into the barn, she noticed the cow was laying on its side. It looked like it had been torn open. Meg heard the sound before she saw the animal.

  A low growl came from behind the bovine and two gold eyes reflected in the darkness. Meg turned to run, but the creature was too quick. It leaped from behind the cow and lunged at Meg. She dropped the eggs and put her arms up in front of her face to block the impending attack. Meg screamed as loud as she could as the creature sunk its jaws in her arm, tearing the flesh right from her bone. The impact pushed her to the ground.

  She saw the creature jump over her and escape from the barn, bounding through the snow and into the woods. It was the largest beast she had ever seen. It was like a large magnificent dog with black fur and golden eyes.

  Meg held her arm to her and sobbed. The blood was flowing freely into the straw floor, and she was starting to feel faint. As she laid her head on the cold straw, her last thought was I don’t want to die like this, without telling Cole I love him.

  Chapter 13

  He was happy to be home. It has been a long, cold evening alone in the trapping cabin. The wolves had stolen the meat from the snares Cole set along the trapping line.

  He followed the footprints until he found the pack eating a moose carcass. He was able to identify and kill the alpha wolf. It was a large silver wolf with black tips at the end of its fur. The wolf went down with one shot from Cole’s long rifle.

  Once Cole killed the alpha, the rest of the wolves panicked. Without leadership, they didn’t know how to behave like a pack.

  He watched the wolves fighting each other and Cole managed to kill off three more before they scattered into the snowy forest. It was so late when he cleaned the furs that he spent the night at one of the little cabins, instead of taking a chance at walking home in the dark.

  The entire night he thought of how much he missed Meg. How even though it had only been a month, he never wanted to wake up without her in his arms again.

  When the sun started creeping on the horizon, he packed the furs on his back and quickly headed back towards home. He had even managed to snare three rabbits, that were hanging from his pack. He knew how much Meg enjoyed the tender meat.

  He was consumed by thoughts of his wife while he was away. He realized he was starting to fall in love with her and he planned on telling her as soon as he got back to the house.

  She was a wonderful mother to his three children. He realized she didn’t have all the natural instincts of having her own children, but the children just loved her. Her cooking was improving under Agnes’s tutoring and she was sewing new clothes for the children.

  The children were happy, well-fed, and loved. They had all the attention they would ever want from the four adults in the house. His family was complete.

  Cole smiled as he entered the clearing. Suddenly an ear-piercing scream tore through the air. Meg! The scream came from the barn.

  He raced as quickly as he could in his snowshoes to the barn. As he rounded the corner, he saw the flash of black fur jump over a bush and disappear into the woods.

  It was a rogue wolf.

  Cole looked at the entrance to the barn and saw Meg slumped on the floor. He shrugged off his pack, throwing it to the side and knelt next to her.

  “Meg!” he cried, lifting her and shaking her gently. She didn’t respond. Cole then noticed the blood on her clothing. He lifted her arm to see the bite. The wolf bit all the way through her coat and clothes and managed to tear a chunk of flesh from her arm.

  He quickly checked the rest of her to see if there were any more wounds. There was so much blood he couldn’t tell.

  He held her close to his chest and cried to the sky. Fear coursed through him at the thought of losing Meg just as he got to know her. She was now a part of him. She held a piece of his heart and she didn’t even know it.

  “Cole!” he heard shouts coming from the house. Roscoe was hopping through the snow, followed by the boys. “We heard the screams.”

  Agnes stood on the porch holding Luella. She held her fingers to her mouth as she looked on the scene.

  “Oh help us, Lord,” Roscoe said, spying Meg in Cole’s arms. “What happened?”

  “I saw a wolf head into the woods. I just got home. What was she doing outside alone?”

  “It’s my fault, Pa!” Jack cried.

  “Your fault? I don’t understand.”

  “Never you mind, Jack,” Roscoe said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was,” Frank chimed in. “Jack said that she wasn’t our Ma an
d he wanted her to go away.”

  “It took a moment for Cole to process the words. “Is this true?” he asked his youngest son.

  Jack cried and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t want her to die.”

  “Let’s get her inside, Cole,” Roscoe said. “You take her head; I’ll get her legs.”

  “Just grab my pack. Boys, we will talk later.” Cole slid his arms under her legs and lifted her easily as he rose to his feet. Her head rolled back, and her arm fell to the side. “Frank put her arm back over her belly,” he directed. Frank hesitated for just a moment. “Now!” Cole yelled.

  Frank quickly lifted Meg’s arm and draped it across her belly. Cole then tucked her against his chest and hoped the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding.

  As he approached the door, Agnes quickly opened the door. “What do you want me to do?”

  “It was a wolf bite. A pretty severe one. I’m going to need alcohol, some linens and get a knife in the fire.”

  “A knife?”

  “I need to cauterize the wound. Get the blade to where it looks red.”

  He walked across the room and kicked open the door to the room where Roscoe and Agnes were sleeping. “I’m going to need this bed.”

  “Of course,” Agnes said, flipping the quilt off the bed so Cole could lay Meg down.

  “I’ll need a pair of scissors too. I’m going to have to cut off the sleeve.”

  Agnes disappeared and reappeared with a bowl of hot water and linens. Frank was right behind her carrying the scissors.

  Cole grabbed the scissors and started cutting the fabric away from the wound. The skin was jagged and torn, and fleshy bits adhered to the fabric. Cole winced as the wound started flowing again.

  “I need to get her coat off. Roscoe, can you lift her up?”

  Roscoe sat Meg up in bed, while Cole quickly undid the buttons. He pushed the coat over her shoulders and carefully drew her arms through the sleeves. Roscoe laid Meg back down on the coat.

  Using the scissors, Cole cut the sleeve just above the elbow. He tossed the fabric aside.

  “Is she bleeding anywhere else?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Is she going to die?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know, son. I’m going to do whatever I can do to save her.”

  “Don’t die, Ma,” Jack said walking over to the bed.

  “Jack, why don’t you come with me,” Agnes said. “You too, Frank.” She shooed the boys out to the kitchen.

  Cole could see where the wolf’s fangs tore into the flesh. There were parts of the bone exposed. When he touched the flesh, a fountain of blood arced in the air. Cole used his thumb to put pressure on the bleed.

  “Let’s get some snow on this to stop the bleeding and then I’ll cauterize the wound.” Roscoe quickly dashed from the room.

  Cole looked at his wife. She looked so pale. Her lips were turning blue. “Stay with me, Meg, honey. Christmas is coming. The boys want their Ma for Christmas. I want you for Christmas.”

  Roscoe returned. Cole moved his hand from the wound and the blood started to flow again, spilling on the sheet below. Cole quickly took the bowl of snow and started packing it into the wound. The snow turned pink, but the flow started to slow down.

  “I need that knife,” Cole yelled to the kitchen. “And alcohol.”

  “Where is the alcohol bottle?” Agnes asked, popping her head in the door.

  “In the cellar. Top shelf. Just grab any bottle.”

  Agnes came into the room, holding a bottle and a knife in her apron. Cole snatched the bottle from her and removed the cork with his teeth. He poured the alcohol over the melted snow. Meg twitched.

  Handing the bottle to Roscoe, he took the knife from Agnes. “Hold her down, Roscoe. You may want to leave,” he warned Agnes. Cole didn’t give her a chance to respond before applying the hot blade of the knife to Meg’s skin.

  Meg tried to jump from the bed, a scream, unlike anything Cole had ever heard escaping from her. The sound tore through his heart. She passed out and fell back to the bed. Cole removed the knife and examined the wound.

  “How did you know to do that?”

  “I was taught by one of the tribes around here. Their warrior had been bitten by a wolf. It was how they sealed the wound to prevent infection.”

  “Meg is a warrior.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Cole picked up a linen piece and wrapped the burn. “I’ll need to get her undressed and in bed. That way I can see if she was injured anywhere else.”

  “Do you want me to get Agnes?”

  “No,” Cole replied hoarsely. “I’ll do it myself.” The tears were starting to fall from his eyes now. He felt Roscoe’s hand on his shoulder.

  “What are you going to do now, son?”

  “I’ll get her settled and then I’m going to go find that wolf.”

  December 24, Christmas Eve

  It was Christmas Eve and Cole sent the boys to listen to Agnes read the bible. He could hear her voice carry through the small cabin. The children had been moved to the sitting room, and Cole pushed the boys’ two beds together to make one larger bed for Agnes and Roscoe.

  Meg still lay in the middle of the bed. Her hair was flowing around her head like a halo. The sheets were still caked with blood. Agnes wanted to wash them, but Cole refused to let her in the room.

  After making sure she didn’t have any other wounds, Cole left to track the wolf that attacked his wife and cow. It took half a day, but Cole managed to find and kill the beast. The fur was sitting in the barn with the rest of the hides he would take to Oskar Grant in the spring. Cole estimated that he had approximately fifty dollars’ worth of furs right now.

  But it wouldn’t mean anything if Meg wasn’t there to share it with him. He hadn’t left her side since returning with the rogue wolf.

  He only left the room to visit the outhouse or take care of the animals. Roscoe helped him dispose of the cow. They were without milk, but Cole knew he could go to the neighbors and purchase one of their milking cows. Right now, however, his priority was Meg.

  She had stirred once or twice, but that was it. Cole worried when she had a fever, but Agnes said it was just her body fighting any infection. Cole spooned willow bark tea in her mouth.

  Tomorrow was Christmas Day and Cole was concerned that Meg wouldn’t be awake. Jack was beside himself, coming into the room and patting Meg’s hair and whispering in her ear.

  The door creaked open, shining the light from the kitchen on Meg’s face.

  “Cole,” Agnes whispered. “You shouldn’t be sitting in the dark.”

  “I didn’t want to light the lamp.”

  Agnes came in with a candle and placed it on the table next to the bed. “Why don’t you come to eat dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’ve barely eaten in days.”

  “I’ll eat when she wakes up.”

  “You’ve not shaved. What would Meg think? You aren’t taking care of yourself.”

  “I want to make sure she is healing.”

  Agnes sighed. “I’m going to give the boys a bath and then read the Christmas story to them after dinner. Will you come out while they hang their socks?”

  Cole ran his hand down his face. His beard was longer and scraggly. “I’ll be out,” he promised softly.

  Agnes left and closed the door behind her. He could hear her talking lowly to the children. Cole had tried everything he knew for Meg to wake up. He wanted to yell, scream, throw something.

  Instead, he fell off the chair onto his knees by the bed. He picked up Meg’s hand. It was cool to the touch. Pressing her hand against his forehead, he surrendered to prayer.

  The following morning Cole went out to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He felt better after he prayed, but Meg still didn’t stir. Everyone else was still asleep.

  Cole looked at the decorated bush in the corner of the room. There was so little space in the cabi
n and somehow Meg managed to find room for a Christmas tree. It was decorated with paper rings and popcorn strings.

  Cole noticed several packages under the tree. He put his cup down and walked over to look at them. He picked one up and then another and read the tags on the presents. To Ma. For Ma. For Pa. For Jack. For Frank. For Luella. To Meg. To Cole.

  Tears burned behind his eyes. He thought he had done all his crying when Frieda died, but this just tore him apart. Turning, he noticed three socks nailed to the mantle. They were bulging with goodies.

  Guilt overcame him. He hadn’t even thought about Christmas. Or his children. All his thoughts were on Meg.

  “Cole?” he heard a voice softly call.

  It was so faint, he thought he imagined it.

  “Cole?” it called again. The voice was hoarse and scratchy.

  Meg!

  Cole raced to the bedroom. Meg was still laying on the bed, but her eyes were opened. The beautiful green eyes flecked with gold were staring at him.

  “Cole,” she whispered once more.

  Cole ran and fell by the side of the bed. “Meg! Oh my, Meg. You are awake. How are you feeling?” He kissed her forehead and brushed her hair from her eyes. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “What happened?”

  “You were bitten by a wolf. I had to cauterize the wound. But you are better now. It is healing.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Nearly ten days.”

  Meg lifted her hand to her head. “Did I miss Christmas?”

  “No, love,” Cole said. “Today is Christmas. A day for miracles.”

  “May I have some water?’

  “Of course.” Cole ran to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the bucket by the door. He took it back to the bedroom. Meg was trying to sit up in bed. Cole put the glass down and assisted her.

  Meg took several sips of water. She then looked around the room and at the bloody sheets. “Is this your bed?” Cole nodded. “If all it took was being bitten to get here, I would have done that the first day. The least you can do is wash the sheets.”

  Cole looked at her for a moment, and then threw his head back and laughed. He leaned over and embraced Meg, pulling her close to him.