On Christmas Eve morning, Jack and Ennis woke earlier than usual, had some only mildly burnt toast piled with whatever they found in the fridge, and went out to tend to the two cows and goat. When they came back in, the sun had risen. They woke up their kids, or rather, Ennis woke up Francine and she took great pleasure in waking her sister and Bobby, who had neglected to ban the younger girl from his room. Once the kids were huddled around the kitchen table, blearily spooning generic brand cereal into their mouths, Jack informed them that they were going shopping. Junior gave him the kind of sanity questioning look Jack was used to getting from her father. "But, it's Christmas Eve, you don't go shopping 'gain 'til after Christmas when everythin's on sale."
Jack, quite impressed by the little girl's logic, had no response. Ennis mumbled over his third cup of coffee that morning, "We're gettin' you kids' Christmas present."
Bobby paused, spoon halfway between bowl and mouth, looking thoroughly confused. "I thought ya wasn't s'posed to be there when your presents are got."
Jack shrugged, "This's a special case."
The five of them got suited up in jackets, boots, and mittens or gloves, piled into Jack's truck, the kids riding in the back huddled under a blanket, and drove to a kennel just outside town the other direction. Hopping down from the back of the truck and realizing what their Christmas present was, the kids let out squeals of delight before running inside to pick out a puppy, their fathers following after them.
Jack and Ennis stood by the wall, Jack chatting casually with the young widow who ran the kennel, as the kids went from pen to pen, playing with and debating the merits of the various puppies in that straightforward, innocently logical manner children decide things of great importance. After a while, a kind of stalemate was reached, each child having his or her own puppy of preference.
Ennis looked between them and said, more to Jack than anyone else, "We are absolutely not getting three dogs."
Francine held up what looked like a snowball brought to life. "Daddy, this'n's soft."
Ennis hesitated, not sure how to respond. Jack, who had, by Francine's own request, started calling her Jenny a couple days ago, gently took the Great Pyrenees puppy from her and set it back in its pen with its siblings. "A white dog will not stay white, not working on a ranch." He gently ruffled the girl's hair. "Sorry, Jenny, it is cute."
Bobby, whose puppy of choice resembled a little black teddybear, gave Junior a superior grin. Junior glared, and cuddled the little ball of tricolor fluff she had taken a liking to, to her chest.
The young widow shrugged. "Both the Giant Schnauzer and Australian Shepherd are good cattle dogs."
Jenny pointed at the puppy her sister was holding. "It ain't white, and it's soft."
Jack looked at Ennis. "You said we weren't getting three."
"I did not mean we could get two." If it weren't for the kids, Ennis knew he would have cursed.
"C'mon, Ennis," Jack said, pleading on the kids' behalf as they stared, shiny-eyed, up at the two men.
Ennis found himself thinking, I am surrounded by children, one a them's the same age as me, but I am surrounded by children. He sighed.
Jenny spent the ride back smushed between her sister and Bobby, the two squirming puppies in her lap.
Back at the house, the real battle of the day began as the kids fought valiantly over what to name the pups. Leaning against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a beer, Ennis said to Jack, "They sound like fighting ally-cats."
"No," Jack took a bite of a Slim Jim, "they sound like us."
By the end of the night, the little black Schnauzer had been dubbed Coalie – which amused Jack, who had grown up with a collie dog, to no end – and the Shepherd had been given the title of Sheriff.
The next day as he lugged a couple of branches he had just pruned off the overgrown apple trees to the disorderly woodpile behind the house, Ennis was smacked in the back of the head by a snowball. He turned to see Jack standing, hands in pockets, gazing up at the crest of the mountain.
"Jack, I know that was you!"
Jack gave him a fairly convincing look of bewildered innocence. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"
Just then another, smaller snowball hit Jack in the ear and Bobby ran, shrieking with laughter around the corner of the house. Within moments, the yard was a war zone. Alliances were made and broken as the pattern of attack shifted from kids against grown-ups to Twists against del Mars to Jenny and Bobby against Junior and Jack against Ennis and finally to every man, boy, and girl for him or herself.
That evening as the five of them sat wrapped in blankets before the fire, hair spiked with damp, hands clutching mugs of hot cocoa, Bobby quite decisively declared that day the best snowball fight ever. No one was inclined to disagree.
A/N: I know y'all are out there, the stats page says so! I'd like to know what you think, drop a comment, lemme know how I'm doing.