by: Wendy Mills
The full moon hung suspended in the inky night sky and cast its shimmering rays down upon the winter wonderland below. A pristine snow blanketed a grassy meadow, making the beads shine like spun glass. Icicles dangled from skeletal tree limbs. It glistened like diamonds off the tops of shrubbery, and skated across the jagged edges of a mountain range carving a circular path around the meadow.
A lone figure dressed in furs and buckskins came into view. Running Buck Cross traipsed through the knee high powdery substance, collecting recently fallen limbs off the ground, and placing them in a hide bag slung across his back for a fire to warm his family through the night.
When he felt he had gathered enough wood, Buck headed back to the cave he'd discovered carved into the side of the mountain a short time earlier. He had left his wife, Cherokee, and their three children inside it, along with their horses, while he had faced the blizzard to collect wood.
As he made his way through the snow, he reflected on how drastically the weather had changed since they had set out that morning from the trading post they ran on the Kiowa reservation. It hat been cold, but there had been no snow on the ground, and the elders had not foreseen snow, let alone a blizzard. It was a rarity for the elders to be wrong in their predicting the weather, but it did happen from time to time. Fortunately for them, he and Cherokee were seasoned travelers and used to packing for all types of weather. None of their three children would suffer much from the cold, especially once he got a fire started.
He reached the cave at last and ducked through the opening. The sight that greeted him brought a smile to his lips. Cherokee sat cross legged near a ring of stones she and their sons had gathered from the floor of the cave in preparation for the wood her had collected for a fire. A tiny bundle clothed in a buckskin dress, wrapped in a fur robe, nursed contently at her mother's breast. Both of their sons, Shadow Walker and Soaring Wren, stood on either side of their mother, bows held before them, arrows notched, and aimed at him.
Although young, both of his sons were already embracing their mixed heritage of Kiowa, Cherokee, and white. His sons' faces broke out into relieved grins and lowered their bows, each putting their arrows back into their buckskin stealth they wore slung across their backs.
"You did well." Buck praised them in Kiowa, as his dark eyes took in the pallets of furs and blankets lined up along one wall of the cave, the stacked saddles and gear beside them. In a farther section of the cave their horses nibbled on grain they had carried with them or drunk water from bladder bags.
Shadow Walker and Soaring Wren's smiles grew under their father's praise. Buck moved to crouch beside the ring of stones, and began to work on building a fire. It took some doing to coax a flame to ignite from the dampened wood, but once the outer layer was breached the ones underneath caught kept burning.
Cherokee placed a contented Dancing Willow back into her cradleboard and set to work making them all something to eat. Buck helped her start coffee and gave their sons pemmican to nibble on while their supper cooked.
"Tell use about Christmas." Shadow Walker asked.
Buck and Cherokee shared a look over the fire. Both of them had fond memories of the holiday traditionally celebrated by whites, and each wanted their children to know the ways of all their people, without putting too much emphasis on one tradition more than another.
"Sit down and I'll tell you about Christmas." Buck instructed as he settled into a sitting position by the fire.
Both boys scrambled to do as they were told. When they were seated, Buck began. "Christmas is the day that the Great White Spirit's son was born. A holy man went to all the people in the land and told them about their new Chief. They brought him gifts of tobacco, pemmican, and robes. He was a great man who did much for his people and so in honor of him, white men celebrate his birthday each year."
"Do we celebrate Christmas?" Soaring Wren asked.
"We honor the traditions of ALL our people." Cherokee told them as she stirred the pot that held beans and thick pieces of salt pork.
"Will our Pony Express family like us?" Shadow Walker inquired his green flecked dark eyes serious.
Buck's heart turned over at the question. His own childhood had been filled with loneliness, because his own birth was born out of cruelty and hatred, instead of love and affection. His mother's people had tolerated him at best, shunned him when relations between the whites and Kiowa's were at their worse.
He had found his first friend and blood brother in Ike McSwain, but his life had been forever changed when he had joined the Pony Express. He had found a true family; a place where he was loved and accepted for who he was. In return he accepted, respected, and loved each member of his PX family.
"They already love you." He said hoarsely, and knew it to be true.
Shadow Walker was only an infant the last time he had visited with his PX family, but love for each one of his offspring had soaked the pages of the many letters which had been exchanged between Buck and Cherokee and their PX family members after each one of their children were born.
"Time to eat," Cherokee announced and together she and Buck worked to dish up the food she had prepared.
Later, after the meal was finished, and all three of their children were bundled asleep under the warm furs, Buck and Cherokee lay curled up together.
"Do you think it will be safe for us to continue traveling in the morning?" Cherokee asked as she shifted slightly so that her head rested comfortably on Buck's shoulder.
"We will see."
"I know how much you want to spend Christmas with your family, Buck, I'm sorry."
"Ssh…," Buck rose up on his elbows to glance down into his wife's upturned face. "I am with my family. As long as you, the children, and I are together, it is celebration enough."
"It is enough, but not everything."
Buck Started to protest, but Cherokee placed a finger against his lips. "A wife knows when her husband his lonesome, even if he is not alone. You miss them all very much."
"I do." Buck sighed. "This is the first time in a very long while that all of us are going to be together, the first time my heart family will meet our other children, and us, some of theirs."
"Them we must not miss it." Cherokee said firmly.
"I will not risk you or the children." Buck told her firmly. "If we have to stay here a day or two, then we will do so. After all it is the people I want to see, and it does not matter what day we arrive in Sweetwater."
"Sleep, my husband. Tomorrow will come early and we will do much traveling."
Buck smiled at the certainty in her voice. Once Cherokee willed something to be done, more often than not, it was.
"I love you wife."
"I love you husband."
Buck kissed Cherokee and then settled into try and sleep, but his mind was filled with Christmases past. Most of the ones he held especially dear were the ones in which Ike and Noah was alive. He missed his blood brother, but at times of triumph and tribulation, he felt Ike's spirit close to him. Finally, his thoughts settled, and sleep claimed him.