Christmas With Family
By LindaBorchers
Winter arrived like a lamb leaving only a smattering of snow on the small outlying towns above Denver. Roads normally closed at the beginning of December were still open, ski resorts were cranking out man-made snow by the ton and everyone was nervous about not seeing a white Christmas.
Everyone but Vin Tanner. Nothing would ruin this Christmas: His first with his new ATF family.
In four days it would be Christmas Eve and all the guys were going to spend the night at Chris' ranch. So far he had picked up all their gifts, carefully selected for each of his friends, wrapped and hidden in the closet of the room he used when he spent the weekends at Chris'. Now he had the final, most important gift sitting on the counter before him.
He couldn't believe how things had fallen into place.
It started last month with an unexpected day off in the middle of a hectic week and he jumped at the chance to leave the chaos of the Christmas rush behind for the day. He hopped on his Harley and started riding with no destination in mind.
Three hours later he found himself in a small town that seemed lost in time with its clapboard buildings and wooden boardwalks. He nodded at the old wooden signs hanging from the porch in front of Cornerstone's General Store, Hardware Store and Bakery. It was so easy to imagine what this town looked like a hundred years ago.
Next to the bakery was a small building with 'Days Long Past Antiques' stenciled on the front door.
Curious, he parked his bike and stepped up onto the boardwalk. In the front window of the antique store he saw an old saddle on display. It would be the perfect gift for Chris if the saddle was in good condition and the price was right.
A bell rang above the door as he walked in. Hardly an inch of the rustic walls weren't covered by antique merchandise. Wooden wheel barrels with Studebaker painted on their sides and sleds hung from the ceiling. Pots and pans blackened from use sat on dusty shelves next to hurricane lamps and branding irons.
Vin breathed in the scent of antiques. He could spend hours just looking and touching the past.
He checked the saddle and fingered the dry worn leather. It was almost what he was looking for, but not quite.
"Saddle to yer likin', Son?" asked the old man standing behind the counter, his back stooped from age. He was ninety if he was a day, with wisps of fine white hair dotting his bald head. He squinted through a pair of horn rimmed glasses as he looked Vin up and down.
Vin shook his head as he carefully checked the saddle. "Need something that'll last longer than a week."
The old man studied him for a minute then motioned him to come up to the counter. Vin watched him pull a binder from beneath the counter and flipped through it until he found the page he wanted turning it around for Vin to see.
A smile teased the sharpshooter's lips as he saw several pictures of a saddle and traced the image with his finger. "It's perfect."
"I just got it on consignment yesterday. Don't usually do business that way, but he was a friend of Cecile's. Cecile owns the auto shop down the street. I'll sell it to ya fer a fair price, if'n ya wants it."
He saw the price at the bottom of the page and nodded. "I want it."
"Good. Give me, let's see, a hundred bucks fer the deposit and I'll call ya when it comes in."
Vin smiled, remembering the two hundred dollars in cash Buck gave him yesterday to pay back a loan and handed five twenties to the old man. "Before Christmas?"
The old man nodded. "Before Christmas."
Finally the call came a week before Christmas and it wasn't until this morning that he could get away. He couldn't tell Chris why he wanted time off without tipping his hand, so he had waited…and waited.
Now he was driving his battered '92 Cherokee up the narrow, winding road that led to Cornerstone in the first snowstorm of the season. With the ground so cold the snow was piling up quickly.
He couldn't stop the smile that grew on is face as he entered town. The Christmas spirit was evident in every store window and street corner decorated with green garland, red bows and tiny white flickering lights. Vin could only imagine how it would look when night fell.
A huge pine tree decorated with more lights and silver and gold globes stood at the end of the street, the snow beginning to cling to the huge branches.
This was the kind of Christmas Vin always dreamed of, but never had, never thought he was entitled. Until now.
"Started thinkin' ya weren't gonna make it in time," the old man said as Vin stepped into the warm, musty smelling store, the scent mingling with pinecones and a Douglas Fir Christmas tree. Vin felt something tug at his heart when he saw the decorated handmade ornaments, each one signed by a child with their name and age. He noticed their clothes seemed out of date and all the same. He'd spent enough time in orphanages not to recognize all the signs.
An old fashioned Santa sat on the counter, its once bright red suit faded with time. A sleigh and eight reindeer, looking as if they were ready to fly, were delicately carved from walnut. There were no price tags and Vin knew it was the old man's own treasure never to be parted with.
The aged proprietor hefted the saddle onto the counter with surprising strength.
"Busy week," Vin said, running his hand across the seat of the saddle feeling the soft leather and tracing the simple tooling down the fenders. There was no doubt that the saddle had been used, and used hard. But it had also been well cared for. A thin deep, gouge was its only imperfection and Vin recognized the groove of a bullet. He was touching a piece of history.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw the initials burnt in the fender; C.L.
"It's perfect." Vin traced his fingers over the letters. "Perfect."
The old man looked up at Vin, arching one eyebrow. "Ya believe in fate, boy? I mean, do ya believe things is supposed to happen a certain way?"
"Maybe." Vin believed more than maybe. Too many things happened when he lived with the People not to believe there were things that mere man was never meant to understand.
"Ya work this job long enough ya see the way of things. Like you fer instance. Ya just happen to walk into my store the same day I put the picture in my binder."
Vin continued to study the saddle.
"When I knew you were interested I did some lookin' – made sure it was authentic. Lookie here." The old man lifted the fender and showed him the saddle maker's name. "Fred Muller, he made some of the finest saddles in his day. I called the owner and told him I had a buyer. Told 'im ya weren't just a collector, that the saddle would be put ta good use. That made 'im happy. "
Vin's smile faded as he studied the saddle and knew he could never afford it. "I know the price you quoted me, but this saddle is worth twice that. You can't sell it to me for what you're asking. I'd be stealing it from you."
The old man straightened his crooked back and stood as tall as he could. "I get lot's a folks comin' ta buy somethin' expensive so theys can say it's old. Makes 'em feel important somehow. I don't pay no mind to 'em. The past don't mean nothing to 'em. But you…I saw the look on yer face when ya seen this saddle. I knew whoever you was planin' on givin' it to is gonna appreciate it. But whoever gets it ain't gonna feel half as good as yer gonna feel when ya gives it to 'im."
Vin's throat tightened up. How did he know how good this was going to feel when he gave it to Chris?
"'sides, ya already put a deposit on it when ya was in here last month. Ta me that means ya gave yer word ya was gonna buy it. Cain't say ya couldn't a blowed me over with a feather when I called ya to tell ya the saddle was in and I finds out I was calling the ATF. Then ta find out yer a agent. Well, I knew right there and then that ya would never go back on yer word. "
Vin wasn't sure what to say. He had put the deposit on the saddle and it was the perfect gift for Chris.
"Ya best get on yer way." The old man nodded his head toward the window looking out onto the street. Snowflakes were beginning to fall harder.
"Weatherman predicted light snow until tomorrow night," Vin said, eyeing the snow and hoping he could at least get close to home before it got too heavy.
The old man snorted. "I trust my joints more'n I trust them weathermen. It's gonna give us a good wallop, and a lot sooner than tomorrow night. Ya best be on yer way."
Vin wrote out a check and reached his hand over the counter and shook the old knurled hand. "Thank you. I'm not sure what else to say."
"Words ain't important, it's what's here." He patted Vin's chest. "Merry Christmas, Son."
"Merry Christmas." Vin grinned.
In the two hours Vin spent in the antique shop, the streets had accumulated an inch more of new fallen snow. It looked like there would be no worries about a white Christmas after all.
With Chris' saddle slung over his shoulder, he opened the driver's door to pull the latch for the temperamental back hatch when he heard someone shout, "Look out!"
It took only a split second for Vin to spot the black Ford 450 barreling down on him with an elderly woman holding the steering wheel in a death grip. He knew he couldn't move out of the way in time with his jeep parked nose first to the boardwalk and the driver's door open blocking him from jumping to safety. A panel truck parked to his left cut off any hope of escape.
The truck continued to speed up and Vin knew the confused woman had her foot on the gas instead of the brake.
His only chance was to dive into the Cherokee and hope the jeep would give him some protection from the runaway truck. Loath to lose the precious saddle, he threw it into the front passenger seat, and dove in after it, sprawling across the two front seats glad he had removed the center console.
He felt the impact of the truck slamming into the jeep's rear end. The screeching sound of metal tearing and glass shattering filled his world as the truck crumbled the smaller Cherokee like an accordion.
The air rushed out of his lungs as the back half of the roof buckled behind him. His legs whipped around the saddle and under the dash and he felt a horrible crushing pain as the dashboard and steering wheel collapsed on him, pinning his legs.
The last thought he had as darkness claimed him was how disappointed he was that he wouldn't see Chris' face when he gave him his new saddle.