'The Christmas Ange' is based in part on a real incident that will be included at the end of the story.
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ONE
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The snow was knee-high to him, but thigh-high to the little girl who followed him.
Charles Ingalls turned and looked past the sled he was pulling at his middle child who trailed about ten feet behind. It was Laura's turn this year to pick out the Christmas tree – with some help and guidance, of course – and they'd traveled about a mile from the house lookin' for the perfect one. They'd passed more trees than he could count on the way that he thought would have done just fine, but each time he stopped and pointed one out Laura would shake her head – sending her little red-brown braids flying – and so on they trudged, him with his axe and her with her high expectations, into the wintry afternoon seeking the 'perfect' tree.
Mary had made the choice to stay home this year. She was helping Caroline with Carrie. Their littlest had just fought off a fever and was in need of extra attention and, what with Christmas bein' just a few days away, his pretty wife was havin' a hard time gettin' everything done. It had been just about all he could do to leave between the scent of freshly baked bread and the blackberry and mince meat pies covering just about every open surface in the house. His wife was cooking for the dinner that would be held at church after the Christmas service ended as well as for their own celebration. He sure looked forward to that. This year he had managed to set a little money aside and he was planning on going into Walnut Grove tomorrow and buying each of the girls a set of store-bought scarves, mittens, and hats. It was an extravagance, but just about every woman in town was sportin' them. The Olesons had brought in some goods from New York about two weeks back and the three women in his house who were old enough to notice had been sighin' over them ever since.
He hoped he had enough to get Caroline a set too.
"Pa? Pa!"
Charles halted and turned toward his child. "What do you want, Half-pint?"
"Didn't you hear me? I been yellin' and yelllin'."
Lifting a gloved hand, he used it to pull the scarf that held his hat on off of one ear. Then he cupped his fingers around it. "You know how it is with us old folks," he replied. "Must be gettin' hard of hearin'."
The next thing that happened was one of his most 'favoritest' as his middle child would say.
Laura giggled.
"You ain't that old Pa," she proclaimed. "You know, you're just kind of old."
Charles snorted. There were days when he felt old enough to give Methuselah a run for his money. Today had been one of them. He'd awakened with a slight sore throat and when he stood up first thing, he'd nearly lost his balance. He'd almost called the tree hunting expedition off, but he couldn't bear to break his little girl's heart. Most likely he had a touch of what Carrie had, but he was sure he would throw it off. He had to throw it off.
He sure as shootin' wasn't gonna be sick for Christmas!
Abruptly, the curly-haired man realized he had drifted again. He looked at his daughter and had to suck in another snort. Laura was standing in the snow with her hands on her hips starin' at him – a perfect picture of her ma.
She shook her head and let out a long sigh that ended with... "Men!"
Before she could say another word, Charles dropped the axe and lead line to the sled. In four giant steps he was at her side. Catching her under the arms, he lifted his child up, tossed her into the air, and laughed as she came down breathless into his arms.
"Oh, Pa! Do that again!" she exclaimed.
"Seems men are good for somethin', eh?" he asked with a wink.
"Oh yes! Yes! I want to be a Christmas angel!" Lookin' straight at him, she stretched out her little arms like wings. "Make me fly!"
He did – two more times – and then he placed her on the ground. "Now, where's this magical tree?" he asked.
"Right there, Pa! See? It's the one that looks like Mrs. Mulvaney when she's wearing her hoop."
Margaret Mulvaney was a customer of his who lived near Sleepy Eye. While he wouldn't go so far as to call her 'tetched' like the locals, he had to admit she was a mite eccentric. He hadn't realized she'd lost her three sons in the War Between the States until Doc Baker told him. When she came into town to the Olesons to buy notions and other things she talked about them like they were alive. Hiram told him she was what the medical community called 'distracted'. She couldn't cope with the loss and so she simply refused to admit it had happened, choosing instead to live forever in eighteen sixty-two.
Hence the hoop.
Charles picked up his axe and took his daughter's hand and together they walked over to her tree. Laura was right. It was just about perfect. The fir was a fat and sassy little tree with a ruffle of long, thick green needles all around its bottom. The trunk was straight and its branches were just far enough apart to place candles on. But there was a problem. There was another tree leanin' on it.
Both of them were about seven feet tall and of a pretty good size.
"Isn't it beautiful, Pa?" Laura asked, her voice hushed with awe.
He released her hand and circled around it. When he came back to her side, it was with a frown.
"What's wrong?" his daughter asked.
"Half-pint, it looks like lightning struck that tree next to it some time back. The trunk's split, that's why about a third of it is leanin' on your tree. " He paused, thinking how to phrase it. "I ain't sure it's smart to try to part them."
"But Pa, it's perfect! All of our ornaments are gonna look so good on it!" Charles winced as he watched tears moisten his child' eyes. "It ain't too tall. When you hold Carrie up, she'll be able to put on the star. And the tips are like fingers, Pa. They're just waitin' to hold candles!"
Charles eyed the trees again and let out a sigh. "Half-pint, I don't know..."
"But I do, Pa! It's the perfect one! You promised I could pick the tree out, Pa. This is the one I want." She paused and then let loose with both barrels. "You ain't gonna go back on your promise, are you, Pa?"
He eyed his girl and then the trees again and then took another slow turn around them. The part of the wounded tree that was leanin' on the one Laura had her heart set on was fairly thin. Their branches had become entwined, but if he hacked a few of them away, he thought Laura could rest that bit of the trunk on her shoulder and hold it while he worked her 'perfect' tree free.
Hopefully.
"Pa?"
Charles stifled another sigh. "Okay, Half-pint, but you're gonna have to help me."
"Anything, Pa!" She held her hand out. "You want me to cut it down?"
"Nope. We men have to be good for somethin', remember?" He chuckled. "What I'm gonna need you to do is to take hold of that broken part and brace it while I work your tree free. Think you can do that?"
Laura beamed. "I can do anything, Pa, if it means I get my tree!"
Charles gave her a smile and then headed for the sled – the one that held everythin' he needed for roping and herding a tree home. This year he'd brought one along to place the tree on after he cut it down. The year before he'd nearly thrown his back out haulin' Mary's special tree home by hand.
Maybe he was gettin' old!
Pulling the sled along with him, Charles returned to his child and the tangled trees.
"What do you want me to do, Pa?" Laura asked, her eagerness making her voice notch up a note or two.
"Come here," he said and then, after removing a few of the branches, directed her to stand under the splintered portion of the tree trunk. "Take hold of that and see if you think you can hold it."
Laura did as he said, balancing the portion of trunk on her shoulder and wrapping her hands around it. "Sure can, Pa!"
The curly-haired man nodded even as he eyed the wounded tree with trepidation. Lightning had struck it at some point – probably during the late summer rains – shaving off about a third of the trunk, which was the part Laura was holding. The needles on the branches extending from it were green, indicating it was still living and, therefore, shouldn't crumble from rot.
"What're you waitin' for, Pa?" Laura asked. "My tree wants to go home with us!"
"Just calculatin'," Charles replied as he struck the axe head into the frozen ground so he could tug on his gloves. "I gotta work it free before I can cut it down."
"Okay, I'll just keep holdin' it then."
"You do that," he said with a nod as he ducked under the splintered trunk and slipped between his child and the tree she had to have. After sizing it up, he decided on the best place to take hold. Placing one hand to either side, Charles lifted up and hauled back, intending to work it free. As he did, there was an ominous 'crack!'
And then the tree groaned.
"Laura, let go!" he shouted as the portion of the tree he held shifted forward. "Move away!"
He could see her, staring at him through a storm of falling leaves and bracken. Laura heard him, but surprise and fear rooted her to the spot.
"Pa...?"
"Laura, now!" he ordered even as a second groan made him turn and look. It was then he realized he had made a mistake. The tree wasn't wounded. It was dead.
Because the rest of it was coming down.
Laura still hadn't moved.
At that moment, Charles realized there was only one choice. Releasing the portion of the trunk he held, he caught hold of his child and threw her as hard as he could.
Just before the tree hit him.
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Laura didn't know what had happened.
One second she'd been standing, holding onto the tree trunk, and the next she found herself face down in the snow. She laid there for a moment, tryin' to figure it out, and then she remembered the tree groaning and a 'crack!' like a ruler on the back of a ornery student's fingers. That was right! She'd been holding up the part of that old tree that was layin' on the one she wanted. Pa'd stepped in and was tryin' to free her tree.
Pa!
The little girl sat up. She shook the snow off her face and then turned to look at the trees. The perfect one she'd wanted was ruined. It was all bent over and smashed to one side 'cause of the other tree layin' on top of it. Laura's eyes went to funny lookin' shadow on the snow. It took her a second to recognize it as Pa's axe.
But where was Pa?
Laura rose to her feet and called out, "Pa?"
The wind answered her and a hawk wheelin' over head, but nothing and no one else.
She took a step and tried again. "Pa?"
Nothing.
The snow was still falling and the breeze that struck her was bitter. It chafed her cheeks and brought tears to her eyes. That's why she was crying. Not because she was afraid something had happened to her pa – and all on account of her and that stupid tree – but because of the wind.
Another step. "Pa?"
"...Half-pint..."
Relief made her giddy. Laura closed her eyes and counted to five to steady herself. Then she opened them and called out again, asking this time, "Pa? Are you okay?" When he didn't reply, the little girl swallowed hard over her fear and moved forward, closer to the mangled trees. It was then she saw him – well, a part of him. Pa's boots were showin'.
The tree the lightning had struck was layin' on top of them.
"Pa!"
All of her fear melted like snow in sunshine when she saw those boots. Dashing forward, Laura reached her pa's side in seconds. The tree'd hit him hard enough he was just about buried in the snow. The splintered portion of the trunk was layin' on top of his legs. It was only as she reached him that she realized one of his boots was turned sideways at a funny angle.
All she could figure was that it must have come off when the tree hit him.
Sizing up the tree and the mess it had made comin' down, Laura tried to figure out how to get around it. Finally, she spotted an open space where she could wind her way through and get to him. Snow fell from the tree's broken branches as she did, coating her shoulders and working its way down into her coat, but she didn't care. Laura kept going until she reached her pa. Kneeling by him, she took his hand in hers.
"Oh, Pa!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you try to cut down that stupid old tree! Are you okay?"
Her father was pale and he was breathing hard. His skin was shining, like he as sweatin'. Still, he managed a smile.
""It's not your...fault, Half-pint. I thought I could...do it." Pa cast a glance along the busted tree and then at his legs. "And it ain't the tree that's...stupid, it's...me."
Laura's gaze followed his. She winced at what she saw. Pa's boot hadn't come off. It was his leg that was turned all funny.
"Pa...is something...wrong with your leg?"
He sucked in air as he tried to shift and sit up, and then gave up and lay back in the snow. "I'm afraid so. I think it's broken."
"Oh, Pa..."
Pa closed his eyes for a second, like he was gatherin' up strength, then he looked at her and asked, "Can you..do somethin' for me, Half-pint?"
She nodded. "Anything, Pa."
"I need you to see if you can get the tree off my legs."
She looked at the splintered trunk, still half-stuck to the other part of the tree, and at the branches comin' out of it. "Won't that hurt?" she asked, her voice hushed with fear.
"It might," he replied with a little wince, "but no more than it hurts now with it layin' on them."
Laura's eyes teared up. "Pa, I'm so – "
Her father's grip on her fingers tightened. "Laura, whether or not you got any blame in this, it doesn't matter now. What matters now is gettin' that tree off so you and I can get home." Pa's gaze went to the sky. "The snow's comin' down heavier and it's gonna be dark soon."
She lifted her face up too. He was right. The light was fading.
"You can do it," he said.
Laura planted her teeth in her lip, thought a moment, and then nodded her head. "Sure I can, Pa. I'll get that old tree off of you and get you home where I can take care of you."
Again, he forced a smile. "Good girl. Now, you move in and take hold of that trunk and then tell me when you're goin' to lift it. All right?"
She nodded again and then moved to his left side. The portion of the tree wasn't really all that big. It was hard with all the little branches, but she managed to get her arms almost all the way around it.
"I'm ready," she told him as she gripped it tightly. "If I lift it up, do you think you can pull your legs out from under it?"
Pa had pulled himself up and was braced on his elbows and hands. He looked practically as white as the snow.
Pa nodded once.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Ready...and rarin' to go," he replied with a wink.
Laura drew a breath. She knew what he was doing. Pa was tryin' to be strong for her, but his voice gave him away.
It was shaking.
"On a count of three," she said as she gripped the downed tree tighter. "One. Two. Three!"
On 'three' she pulled up. It took all the strength she had, but Laura managed to lift the trunk a couple of inches. She saw her pa shift and heard him grunt, and then – slowly – his legs slipped out from underneath.
Right before it got too heavy and she had to let go.
As the tree fell to the snow-covered forest floor, Laura jumped over it and ran to her pa's side. He'd dragged himself back about three feet, so his boots were free. He was breathin' hard and starin' at the place where he'd been layin' before. She thought there was somethin' funny in that stare and so she looked too. It was getting dark, so it took her a second or two to see it. When she did, Laura's heart sank right down to her toes.
Pa was bleeding.
