Disclaimer: I own nothing, my writing is for amusement and sanity.
Here's my Take Three! Or is it Four? I've messed with my other story "Reindeer to the Rescue", from edits to deletes and redo tries...I'm not satisfied with it, and can't make myself fix it at this point so let's try this!
Read and Review please!
Chapter Nine
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December 24th, 1871
Alaskan Territory, Juneau district
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Christopher McIntyre yawned in utter exhaustion as he walked along the picket lines, double checking the knots on a couple of the draft horses tied up just outside of the barracks. The Alaskan territory north of the lower Forty-Eight States was pitch black, covered in snow, and while a great mining location for the camps popping up all over as scouts went around under orders…
It was freaking cold!
McIntyre had no desire to be this far north, not when his little girl was supposed to be starting to walk, and his wife would be tending her garden in a couple months, when spring reached North Carolina. And yet, he was all the way across the world…or at least at times it felt like he was, especially when this was the only option for employment. Nobody wanted a no-name carpenter, with a heritage from the Scottish highlands, to do much of anything and earn money for his family.
The contract to work as a laborer in the Alaskan territory was enough funds in advance and at the completion of the term…that his daughter would be able to go to school, and just maybe his wife would be able to send for her sisters in Glasgow.
A blowing nose shoved its way into McIntyre's face, breaking up his weary thoughts with a curious nuzzle at his worn coat. The sudden flash of hot air was a boon in the chilly night, icy gusts that blew wet snow over everything in a cold, drenching rush.
"Easy there boy…settle now, I know it's cold out, but you've got a thick winter coat while mine is soaked through. Go back to sleep," Double checking the lead lines, McIntyre turned away from the horses dozing during the "night" time, as sunrise wouldn't appear anytime soon, the foremen kept a loose grasp on time for their workers.
Walking back towards his post, McIntyre sighed heavily, rubbing at his tired eyes to try and stave off the exhaustion.
Once he looked up, hefting his lantern to see the snow packed trail, he almost screamed in surprise.
The deer…or elk…or somethings…while shorter than the huge moose a couple men brought in last week, had racks wider than a man was tall. Harnessed in bright red strappings to a dark brown and gold sleigh of the finest quality, almost like a painting it was so magnificent.
The idealist in him, wanted to shout in surprise; the craftsman stared in absolute wonder at the delicate details, almost as if possessed he stepped forward to run a hand down the back of the wooden sleigh in awe.
"If only I could make something like this…"
One of the deer snorted, shaking its great head with a low grunt of complaint. Shifting in their confinements, the entire team was antsy and looked ready to bolt at any second, with or without their currently missing driver.
"Who do you belong to?" McIntyre wondered out loud, leaning over the edge of the sleigh to glance over the contents. Plush fabric coated a padded bench, a basket of food almost completely empty stowed beneath. Looking over the hand carved details decorating the sleigh's interior, McIntyre didn't even realize he was climbing aboard until he had to grab the back of the bench to stay balanced as he looked down into the cargo hold.
Another stretch of luxurious fabric met his cold fingers, this one tied off with a gold cord braided delicately and shimmered in the dim lantern light. The sack was notably empty and fell back to the wooden floor with a soft whump of air. Alongside it was a dark red coat, lined with fur and heavy with it's expensive quality. It would not do for the foreign team's master to return and find a stranger rifling through their belongings, and McIntyre quickly decided he needed to leave and find his foreman.
Crackling in the trees drew McIntyre's attention, the distant sounds of animals in the woods sending further chills down his spine, "Hello?! Anyone there?!"
The snarl of something in the mood to hunt made the harnessed deer team stamp in panic, snorting and pawing at the snow as McIntyre glanced around in his own fear.
"No…oh Lord help me…" Snapping his gaze to the team, the least he could do was ensure the magnificent creatures would live, if wolves were moving in on the camp it was safer to just let the deer bolt at this point. No telling how they would react to guns.
McIntyre jumped from the sleigh, scrambling at the ground for the loose reins and untangling the leads from the hind deer's legs, straightening the buckles with practiced ease even if not on a draft horse, "C'mon now beauties, get out of here!"
Tossing its head, the lead deer bellowed out in frustration, shaking irritably in its harness but not taking a single step to pull against the harness. McIntyre flinched at the howl echoing around the camp, hearing others begin to wake and investigate the approaching hunters.
Snatching at the reins, McIntyre fastened them to the sleigh's front rails to keep them from trailing, leaning over to shake the whip fastened to the front, "Your master better not beat me for this, C'mon boys! Hyah!"
Now, Christopher Nicholas McIntyre, aged four and twenty years, had handled cart horses, draft steeds, oxen, mules, donkeys, and even a heavier dog or two…in the likes of harnesses and pulling something, anything along their way.
What he had not ever handled, was a team of frightened reindeer that had lost their master and were being chased by wolves. The heavy snow had frozen part of the reins to his wet gloves, the snag just enough for his weight to shift and suddenly yank him into the rushing sleigh.
At a speed he was unable to fight against, McIntyre found himself tossed against the bottom of the bench, bouncing around as the runners beneath the sleigh caught and dragged over the uneven ground. Snorting in their confusion, the team only picked up speed as they bolted, uncontrolled with their reins fastened in the drive position.
Shouting in pain, it took McIntyre a long while to right himself, finally managing to avoid getting knocked around after the ride suddenly smoothed out. The team had put on another burst of speed, the harnesses yanking against the sleigh fastenings before lurching harshly.
Once upright, braced on the plush bench, McIntyre nearly lost his stomach at finding himself high above the trees. Soaring into the clouds above, the deer charged in powerful unity to keep the sleigh and its unwilling passenger airborne and streaking across the stars.
"Oh no…what have I done?"
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The hours had passed in shocking cold, harsh winds buffeting McIntyre to the point he finally conceded and scrambled at the trappings in the back of the sleigh for protection. No matter how he had strained, the team would not alter their course, fighting his every attempt at managing the reins even when in a fit of anger he'd even cracked the whip high over their tall antlers to get their obedience.
Thick and warm, even being out in the cold for so long, the heavy coat was a boon in the frigid air as McIntyre slipped it on. It felt right, like it was tailored to him with perfection, unlike the issued uniforms from camp. Almost as if his own wife had made such a garment, though she would likely never have the chance to do so.
His heart sank, McIntyre wished he could chalk all of this up to a cold night's dream. Even if it was Christmas and the festivities in camp had involved strong drinks. But as the team carried him further and further away, the pain in his frostbitten feet slowly beginning to numb only proved to further the distant thought that he wasn't going to live…and his family would suffer for it.
Clouds faded into rich, star filled skies, awash with vibrant colors. It was then, the exhausted man realized he was being taken North, towards the land of pure ice and stormy seas that so few dared to attempt to explore. Moon lit ice shone beneath the sleigh, gleaming with sparkling snow as the team suddenly spun away from their direct course to circle lower at last.
The ground raced up in a dizzying spin, and if he'd had the air or energy to draw breath, McIntyre would have screamed. Rushing ever closer to the unforgiving ice, the team refused to listen to his sharp yanks and the reins to turn their path. Snorting in irritation at the unfamiliar hands and panicked commands, none of the strange deer dared detour.
Before the man's very eyes, the ground fell away, ice falling as if into a pit to reveal an opening for the deer to race through and avoid a fatal collision with the harsh ground.
Finally able to inhale enough air, McIntyre did shout in surprise at the sudden influx of light, as if lit from within the hollow ice…cave?... Was as bright as if the sun was shining.
Blinking at the change, McIntyre couldn't stop himself from darting his gaze around to anything and everything, in such shock at finding himself descending to a wondrous town that he didn't even feel the reins slipping from his fingers.
He did however, notice when at the sudden release of obnoxious pressure, the team bolted once again. Only at this burst of speed, the sleigh did not shoot into the heavens like before, but closer to the ground. High-pitched screams echoed around the sleigh from the sides and from below as the team drew closer to the buildings, weaving in and out of a few of the taller edifices. Unable to see the owners of such cries, McIntyre could only brace himself for the inevitable crash as the uncontrolled team raced through the town. Racing closer and closer to a towering building, the open threshold was in no feasible way big enough for the chaotic animals to safely navigate, McIntyre knew he was nearing the end. Clinging to the thick coat, he just wanted it all to be over, if he was to die, then let it be quick…
"Whoa!"
At the sharp command, and violent jarring of the sleigh, the team snorted and slid to a stop.
McIntyre fell off the bench.
Groaning, he tried to stand, his frozen limbs refusing to cooperate even when multiple hands suddenly appeared to help him. At first, he accepted the help, stumbling weakly from the stopped sleigh and blessedly relieved the madness was over.
Realizing the hands may be reaching up his arms, but there were no bodies tall enough to truly hold him up, he panicked as he finally looked around.
A startled shout slid from his throat, falling back against the sleigh, McIntyre didn't coherently understand just what he was hallucinating in his delirium.
"Santa!" "Santa are you okay?" "Let us help!" "Santa?"
"No…no-no-no…" Gasping for air, McIntyre tried to stand, tried to move away, but once within the dark building the strange deer had carried him to, the warmth was attacking his numb legs and the pain shot up his spine.
A deeper voice paused the higher pitched cries that tugged on his arms, and McIntyre turned towards the source.
Dark curls flashed over pale skin, before a sea of emerald green swam into his blurring vision.
Coughing harshly, strong arms caught McIntyre as he collapsed.
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