What T Didn't Know - Part 1

Good morning, FFFs,

I hope you all had a good Christmas. I did. It was quiet, which was just fine. Everything has been so crazy and busy this month that this week has seemed extra nice since it was quiet and relaxed. I've finally been able to get in some Christmas reading! Yay! Of course I still have more unread Christmas books on my kindle, but I'm afraid some of them will have to wait until next year. But I do plan to keep working on them at least until Monday.  Now that Christmas is over, I'm ready to get things cleaned up, organized, and ready for the new year. Do you like to organize things at the start of a new year?

I hope you enjoyed the few extra times I posted this month. I was going to post more, but as you may have noticed, that didn't happen. Oh well. And I didn't write much this month either! I wrote 333 words on the 3rd and that's the last time I've written. But oh, I'm eager to get back to it!

Today's story is the first part of an 8 part New Year's story. Yes, I do know that New Year's will be long gone by the time we finish this, but what else could I do? I had thought of just publishing it, but I don't have a cover designed, I don't have a synopsis, and I'd have nothing to post on my blog. :) So I hope you enjoy it.

What T Didn’t Know

Part 1

    Tommy lifted a heavy hand and pushed at the thing on his head. At least he thought he lifted his hand, but the thing, whatever it was, didn’t move. He tried to muffle a soft groan, not wanting Diego to come running.

    “He’s coming around a bit,” a strange woman’s voice said softly.

    “Yes,” a man agreed.

    Tommy didn’t recognize either voice and wondered who they were talking about. He wanted to ask, but his head ached, and his mouth and throat were dry. With another feeble effort, he again attempted to push the thing off his head. This time he felt his hand on his face, but another hand took hold of his arm and gently lowered it down again.

    “Just let that bandage on your head alone, sonny,” the deep, quiet voice of the man said.

    Fingers rested lightly on Tommy’s wrist, and he forced his eyes to open a crack. The light shot blinding pain through his head, and he gave a sudden moan.

    “There now, just take things easy, son. Don’t try to move just yet. Nurse Wilson, shut those blinds a bit more, if you please.”

    A nurse. That was queer, Tommy thought. What was a nurse doing in his little shack? And why was his bed so soft? Where was Diego? His senses started returning as he lay still. There were different smells than usual. And things were quiet. Nothing was ever this quiet, even in the middle of the night. He wanted to find out what was going on, but he couldn’t ask.

    “Try opening your eyes again, son, and see if the pain is better.”

    Tommy obeyed and found it didn’t hurt quite as much. No, he was certainly not at home in his own little shack tucked between the McGuires and the Schlinders. But it wasn’t a hospital either. He’d been in one of those before. Slowly his eyes traveled around the dim room with its clean walls, its framed pictures, and–he squinted at something across the room–yes, it was a mirror. It wasn’t cracked, and it wasn’t small. He thought Sassy would like to see it. Pulling his gaze away from it at last, Tommy saw a woman in white standing near one side of his bed. That must be the nurse, he decided, though he was still puzzled over why a nurse should be in his room, which wasn’t really his room at all. It was too much effort to think, and he almost let his eyes close again when a slight movement drew his gaze to the other side of his bed. There they fastened on the face of a man. A man with a dark mustache and dark hair. It was a face Tommy had never seen before.

    “Feeling a little better now, are you, lad?” The man asked. He smiled and added, “Want a drink?”

    In spite of the ache in his head, Tommy managed a faint nod. He was terribly thirsty. He made a move as if to push himself up, but hands rested on his shoulders and held him firmly in bed.

    “Don’t try to move. Nurse Wilson is quite capable of bringing the drink to you.” There was a hint of amusement in the man’s voice.

    Tommy didn’t know what the joke was, but he opened his lips and eagerly swallowed the cool water that slipped between his teeth from the spoon the nurse held. It tasted better than any lemonade or even the soda water Dickie Braun had given him last summer. He opened his mouth again and swallowed a second spoonful. A few more swallows followed.

    “That’s enough for now,” the man said. “You can have more later.”

    Tommy looked at the man’s face again. Even in the dim light it looked kind. Perhaps he would ask him where he was.

    “Can you tell us your name, sonny?”

    Of course he could. That was an awfully silly question to ask. But Tommy didn’t tell his name. Instead his eyes closed and he slept.

    “Well, he can tell us his name later,” the man said softly, rising from the chair where he had been seated. “Poor little chap. But I must be off again. Keep an eye on him for me, Nellie.”

    “Of course. But I feel that I should be going to the hospital to help too, Daniel.”

    “Not now. You’d wear yourself out. We have enough help, thank God. You stay here and take care of our young patient. I’ll be home again as soon as I can. Call the hospital if you need me.”

*

    When Tommy again awoke, he lay still, his eyes still closed. Everything was hushed and quiet. No traffic could be heard, which Tommy thought was very odd. Something pressed against his left arm and it ached. “Diego,” Tommy murmured without opening his eyes. But when there was no answering whine or pad of feet, Tommy called a bit louder, “Diego!”

    “Shhh, there lad. Everything’s going to be all right.”

    This time Tommy did open his eyes. A faint light came through the drawn curtains. Memories of his last time awake came to him and he frowned.

    “Does something hurt, sonny?”

    That voice. Tommy turned his head slightly and saw the kind face of the man beside him. He felt fingers on his wrist and tried to move his left arm, but a cry of pain escaped before he could stop it.

    “Here, just keep that arm still. I know it hurts. You broke it pretty badly.”

    “Broke it?” Tommy echoed in a daze.

    The man smiled. “Yes, sir. You broke it in three places, fractured a rib, and got a nasty cut on your head. But you’ll mend. Will you tell me what your name is?”

    “Tommy.”

    “Tommy what?”

    “Just Tommy.”

    “Well, Just Tommy, I’m Dr. Hall. Where do you live? Do you have any folks we can notify of your injuries?”

How was your Christmas?

Have you had a busy or relaxing week?

What do you think of this new story?

The Price - Part 5

Good morning!

I can't believe it's the Friday before Christmas! How is that even possible? Shouldn't we have at least another week before we get this far in the month? Has your month flown or has it just been me?

We had our Christmas program on Sunday night and both plays (The Candy Cane Story and "The Price") went really well! "The Price" was great fun because none of the parents had gotten to see it yet. (We'd made sure everyone was out of the room when we practiced.) There were a lot of comments about how well everyone did, and how much people liked it. Yes, some of the kids were extremely nervous, but unless you really knew, you would never guess it. Everyone really got into their parts and said their lines like they were the characters. It was such fun seeing this story "come to life" as it were.

Monday night was when we were supposed to go caroling, but due to ice and snow, we postponed it. We're doing it tonight. :) And because we changed dates, some other families can either come, or hope to be able to come. Yay!

Tuesday was another cold day never getting above freezing. It was nice to stay inside and put things away, read, work on different things, and not have to go anywhere.

Wednesday was sunny and warmer. Most of the snow is melted. I read some, got different things worked on, and had a music practice with the other violinists and the pianist at church. I'm really trying to slow down and enjoy these days.

Thursday was more of the same things.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this final part of this Christmas story. I'd love to know what you think of it. :)

The Price

Part 5

    The Sunday before Christmas found the small church in Buffalo Wallow well filled with folks from both the town and the surrounding area. In the back near the door stood Mr. King, his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

    Behind the pulpit Reverend Clark spoke about Christmas and gifts.

    “For what will it profit a man if he gain the whole world but lose his soul? My friends, each man has a price–the price of his soul. The price that must be paid for his sin. It is a high price indeed. So high that no man can pay it. Only Jesus Christ can pay that price, and He did.

    "Christmas is about Jesus Christ, not about what earthly things we can get. Let us accept God’s greatest gift–eternal life!”

    When the sermon was over, Mrs. Stirling made her way to Mr. King. “Mr. King, I’m glad you are here,” she said, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a stack of bills and a bag of gold. “It will save me a trip across town. Here’s the payment for the rest of the mortgage.”

    “What?” Mr. King took a step backward. “But . . . But I don’t want the money,” he sputtered. “I want the house!”

    “Take it,” growled Travis. “You don’t own the mortgage on that house anymore.”

    Mr. King looked around. There were too many witnesses for him not to accept the money. Taking it roughly, he pushed through the men and rushed from the church.

*

    The next day passed. And the next. Until at last it was Christmas Eve.

    In Widow Stirling’s home the fire in the stove was bright, and the scent of pine, chocolate, and sugar cookies filled the air. There was laughter as the family decorated their small tree and drank cups of cocoa.

    “God did answer our prayers, Mama,” Jenny said.

    “Yes, Jenny, He did. But we must keep praying for Mr. King.”

    “Why?” Sam wanted to know.

    Mrs. Stirling knelt down before the boy. “Because he needs the forgiveness of Jesus Christ, and I’m afraid he doesn’t want it.”

*

    Across town Jeffery King paced his floor again. He had not left his home once since he had returned after the Sunday service. He’d hardly eaten or slept. At first he was furious that all his plans had failed, and then something the minister had said began echoing in his mind.

    “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul? – The price of his soul is high. – No man can pay it.”

    Stopping his pacing, Mr. King stood thoughtfully. “No man can pay it. Which is more important? The world or my soul?”

    Finally he gave up the struggle and knelt in his living room.

*

    Christmas Day arrived, and with happy greetings, the town folk, farmers, and ranchers gathered in the small church once again to celebrate the birthday of the One who had come to give them eternal life.

    The sermon was nearly over when the door opened. Every head turned and eyes widened as Mr. King, with head down and eyes on the floor, walked hesitantly down the aisle to the front of the church. He murmured a few words to the minister. “Reverend Clark, may I say something?”

    “Certainly.” Reverend Clark stepped to the side of his pulpit and waited.

    Mr. King’s hand trembled slightly as he held his hat and turned to face the congregation. “I’m not quite sure how to begin,” he started slowly, “but folks, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mrs. Stirling, for the worry I put you and your children through. And Mr. Pickett, Travis, Mr. Hill, and Mr. Butler, I’m sorry for pressuring you to give up what you’ve worked so hard for. Reverend Clark is right.” He glanced over at the minister. “It doesn’t profit anyone if he gains the whole world but loses his soul. I know. I spent the last few days and nights wrestling with myself and with my greed. But last night I gave up the fight. I prayed and confessed my sins and asked Jesus Christ to forgive me.” A smile crossed Mr. King’s face. “And He did! Now I want to ask, will you forgive me too?”

    A chorus of “Yes! Amen!” sounded around the church.

    “Folks,” Reverend Clark said, “this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Let’s all stand and sing, Joy to the World, because I sure feel joyful this Christmas day!”

    And so the western town of Buffalo Wallow celebrated a Christmas they never forgot. Jeffrey Reginald King had learned that while every man might have his price when it comes to worldly goods, no man could ever pay the price for his sins. No man could ever save his own soul. The price for our sins was paid by Jesus Christ when He died on the cross. Have you accepted the sacrifice He made for your sins?

Have you accepted the Greatest Gift?

 How has your week been?

Have you ever been caroling?

 Click on the image to find out other Christmas blog posts!

The Candy Cane Story

This is the play I wrote for the younger children at church. You are welcome to use it with your siblings, cousins, nieces & nephews, or friends. Enjoy!

Setting: 1800s. Children in the back– girls with large bows and Christmasy dresses, boys with suspenders, bow-ties, or messenger boy caps, Younger ones holding hands with older ones.

Candy Shop: Mr. Candy Maker standing behind counter wearing white apron making candy canes. Counter is made from table with a large whiteboard in front with ‘jars of candy” colored and attached. (You can find free coloring pages of candy jars online.) Several real jars sit on table with candy in them. 

Child:
It’s almost Christmas!

All Children:
Yay!

Child:
I can’t wait!

Child:
Let’s go to the candy shop.

Child:
I have a penny.

Child:
Me too.

Child:
I have two pennies.

Child:
Then come on, let’s go!

(Children hurry to the candy shop.) Arrive at shop.
(Child opens door and all crowd in and hurry to look at all the candy on display.)

Children:
Hi, Mr. Candy Maker.

CM:
Hello, children. Are you ready for Christmas?

Children:
Yes, sir!

Child:
Hey, what are you making?

CM:
This is a candy cane. [holds up a candy cane.]

Child:
What’s it taste like?

Child:
Why’d you make it?

Child:
Why is it that shape?

CM:
Would you like to hear about it?

Children:
Yes!

CM:
Then why don’t you all have a seat and I’ll tell it to you. [Children sit down and listen.]

CM:
This is a special Christmas candy, and it tells the story of Christmas.

Children:
How?

CM: [holds the candy cane so it looks like a J] What does this look like?

Children:
A J.

CM:
You’re right. It does look like a J, and whose birthday do we celebrate at Christmas time?

Children:
Jesus!

CM:
That’s right. Jesus is the Son of God. He came down to earth as a little baby. He wasn’t born in a palace or to rich people, was he?
[Children shake their heads]
No. Jesus came down from heaven where everything was perfect, to be born to poor parents. He even had to sleep in a manger. But who visited Him?

Children:
Shepherds!

CM: [turns cane so it looks like a shepherd’s staff]
Yes, that’s right. The Bible tells us that there were shepherds abiding in the fields watching their sheep that night, but when they heard from the angels that their Savior, Jesus, was born in Bethlehem, they left their sheep and went to find him. Did you know that the Bible also calls Jesus the Good Shepherd who gives His life for his sheep? This candy reminds us also that Jesus will take care of those who ask Him to forgive their sins, just like a shepherd takes care of his sheep.”

Child:
But why are there red stripes on the candy?

CM:
Do you know why Jesus was born? He was born so that He could die for the sins of the world. He died for your sins and for my sins. The thin red stripes on the candy represent the stripes Jesus bore for us. And the thick red stripe is for the blood He shed on the cross. In the Bible it says that by His stripes we are healed. That is talking about Jesus. And it means we can be forgiven of our sins if we ask Him to forgive us. Then we will be made clean and white just like this white candy.
The white also reminds us of purity. That’s a fancy word that means Jesus was perfect. He never did anything wrong.
So, we have a J for–

Children:
Jesus!

CM:
A shepherd’s staff to remind us of the shepherds at Christmas and that Jesus is our Good Shepherd. And what color means that Jesus was perfect?

Children:
White!

CM:
And the red stripes are for the blood He shed for who?

Children:
For us.

Child:
Is that the whole story?

CM: [shakes his head]
No, there’s a little more. This candy is hard. What do hard things make you think of?

Children:
Rocks.

CM:
That’s exactly right. So this candy cane reminds us that Jesus is our Rock, just like the Bible says in Psalm 31:3 where it calls God our Rock and Fortress. Do those things make you think of a safe place?
[Children nod]
But there is one more thing about this special Christmas candy that reminds me of Christmas.

Children:
What?

CM: [with a smile]
The flavor. Who else visited Jesus when He was young, besides the shepherds?

Children:
Wisemen.

CM:
You’re right. Does anyone remember what they brought? They brought gold and precious spices. That’s why I flavored this candy with peppermint. [holds up candy cane] And that is the story of– the Candy Cane.

Child:
That’s a good story, Mr. Candy Maker.

Child:
And it does tell the story of Christmas.

Children:
Thank you!

CM:
You’re welcome, children. Now, who would like one of my new candies? [hands out a candy cane to each child]
(Children stand and move to edge of stage to sing Candy Cane song.)

The Candy Cane Song 

words by Rebekah A. Morris

(sung to alternate tune for “O Little Town of Bethlehem”) 

The candy cane it tells a tale
Of Jesus Christ, God’s Son.
It is a story never old
Of love for everyone.
The cane is like a shepherd’s staff
The white for purity
The red is for the stripes He bore
And blood He shed for me. 

The hardness of the candy tells
Of Christ the Solid Rock
The spicy flavor makes me think
Of gifts the wisemen brought.
Now when you see a candy cane
Remember what we say
That Jesus Christ who came to save
Was born on Christmas Day. 

The Price - Part 4

If you haven't already read the first parts, you can read them here.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

The Price

Part 4

    Across town Widow Stirling sat in her rocking chair, her Bible in her lap, and looked about the room. Now and then she wiped away a tear. Her husband had built their home when they had first come west. It was the only home Jenny and Sam knew. Must they give it up? Where would they go? How would they survive the winter without a roof over their head? They couldn’t afford to go to the hotel. At last she rose, laid aside her Bible, and knelt beside her chair to pray.

    “Heavenly Father, I don’t know what to do. I don’t have money to pay the mortgage right now, and I don’t have money to rent a room somewhere. Please help us. Help me trust You this Christmas time. And please soften Mr. King’s heart. . . .”

*

    The next day brought a knock on Mr. King’s door.

    “Mr. King,” Rancher Pickett began without any preliminaries, “Travis an’ I’ve been talkin’ over your offer. We figured we ought to sell you the horse. You still want her?”

    “Of course I do!” Mr. King pulled out his money and the sale was made.

    Travis handed the reins of the horse to Mr. King’s hired hand and said, “Take good care of her, Mr. King.” Together the rancher and his hand strode off without a backward glance.

    Mr. King rubbed his hands together gleefully after his hired hand had led the horse away to his new stable.

    Another knock came. It was Farmer Hill.

    “Well, Mr. King, I’ve been doin’ some deep thinkin’,” Mr. Hill began slowly. “An’ I reckon I’ll sell Gertrude to you for seventy dollars. You’re right. I won’t get a better price than that.”

    Eagerly Mr. King counted out his money, and Mr. Hill put it in his pocket.

    Stooping, he patted his pig and said, “Be good now, Gertrude.” Then with a slight sigh, Farmer Hill turned and walked away as Mr. King’s man carried the pig off to the barn.

    When the door shut, Mr. King almost danced a jig in his excitement. His dreams were coming true! He had found their price! Another knock on the door made him reach for his bag of gold before he flung the door wide open.

    “You want the watch?” It was Mr. Butler.

    “Yes!”

    “You got the gold?”

    “Right here.”

    Mr. King handed over his gold, and Mr. Butler, after weighing it in his hand, pulled out his watch and passed it into the greedy hands of Mr. King. Then, with a nod, he turned and walked away.

    This time Mr. King could contain his excitement no longer.

    “Merry Christmas to me!” he shouted, scarcely waiting to shut his front door. “I’ll get Mrs. Stirling’s house in six days and then . . . I’ll have it all.” He smoothed his jacket and straightened his tie before the mirror. “Jeffery Reginald King, you’ll be on top of the world.”

*

    Across town some time later, a knock came on Mrs. Stirling’s door, causing Mrs. Stirling to exchange worried looks with Jenny before answering.

    Pulling the door open, Mrs. Stirling placed a hand over her heart. “Oh!” she gasped. “You startled us. Won’t you come in, gentlemen?”

    Mr. Hill, Mr. Pickett, Travis, and Mr. Butler crowded inside the small but cozy room, taking off their hats as they did so.

    “Ma’am,” Rancher Pickett began, pulling out some money and holding it out to the widow, “we heard you were havin’ some difficulty with your mortgage holder, and we want to help you out.”

    “You helped us many times, ma’am,” Farmer Hill said, offering a stack of bills too.

    “Yep,” and Mr. Butler held out a bag of gold.

    Travis too offered some money. “So take it.”

    With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Stirling accepted the offered gifts. “Dear neighbors, your generosity overwhelms me. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. The Lord has used you to answer our prayers.”

*

    The Sunday before Christmas found the small church in Buffalo Wallow well filled with folks from both the town and the surrounding area. In the back near the door stood Mr. King, his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

Amahl and the Night Visitors

This is such a delightful story. Have you ever watched this story?

The Price - Part 3

Good morning, FFFs,

How has your week been? Mine was crazy on Saturday and Sunday. Then Monday and Tuesday weren't bad. Wednesday was pretty good, and now we're into five days of crazy!

Yesterday was busy trying to get different things done. And I didn't get everything done that I was needing to do, or planning to do.

This morning my seven nieces and nephews are coming over to make cookies, and I'm sure we'll read stories and such. Then I need to practice the violin and make sure I have everything needed for tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be our final big play practice. We'll be missing one stage hand and one cast member, but they just couldn't make it. After practice my sister, a friend, and I have to decorate the gym for the fellowship meal after the program. The thing is, the tables and chairs were supposed to be set up for us, and I don't think they got done.

And on Sunday, we have all sorts of practice in the morning, and the program in the evening! We will have only been through the play 3 times with everyone! Pray it goes well!

Monday will be spent putting things away and getting ready for caroling to our widows and widower in the evening. It's always a lot of fun and a blessing to us and those we carol to.

Tuesday . . . Maybe I'll just read. ;)

But here is your next part of the story. I hope you are enjoying it.

The Price

Part 3

    “Well, I’m foreclosing. You either pay off the rest of the money before Christmas or out you go.”

    “But, Mr. King,” Widow Stirling protested, “we have been faithful in payments, and it’s winter. Couldn’t you give us a little more time?”

    “Time?” roared Mr. King. “What do you think I am, a clock? No! You pay by Christmas or out you go!” He turned, jerked open the door, and marched out into the cold winter evening muttering, “I’ll at least give myself one Christmas present.”

    As soon as the door was shut behind their visitor, Jenny rushed over to her mother, her eyes wide and her face frightened. “Mama, what are we going to do? Can he really throw us out?”

    “I don’t know, Jenny.” Mrs. Stirling put an arm around each of her children, for Sam pressed close though he said nothing. “But I know what we are going to do. We are going to pray. The Lord has said in His Word that He will be a Father to the fatherless and a Judge of widows.”

    Together, as dusk turned to darkness, the family knelt in their small home to pray for wisdom, and to ask that Mr. King would have a change of heart.

*

    The following morning Jenny walked slowly down the street to buy few groceries. Her eyes were on the muddy street and her heart was heavy. She had tried and tried to think of a way to earn the money needed but was no closer to a solution than last night.

    “Morning, Miss Jenny,” Rancher Pickett and his foreman said, touching their hats as they approached.

    Jenny looked up with a start. “Oh, good morning.”

    “How is your mother doing?” Travis asked.

    “All right. I suppose.” Jenny sighed.

    “Is somethin’ wrong?” inquired Rancher Pickett.

    Jenny nodded. “Mr. King came to see us yesterday and said we have to pay the rest of the mortgage before Christmas or he will kick us out!”

    “What?” Travis exclaimed.

    Pickett looked indignant. “He can’t do that!”

    Jenny wiped a tear off her cheek. “Yes, he can. Mama already checked.”

    “We’ll have to think of something. Don’t worry. Come on, Travis.” With that, Rancher Pickett and Travis strode down the street, leaving Jenny looking after them with a puzzled face.

    The rancher hurried off with his foreman to find Mr. Butler. Then together they went out to see Farmer Hill. The wind was blowing and snow was threatening to fall, but none of the men noticed.

    “I tell you it ain’t right,” Rancher Pickett fumed after explaining their errand.

    “It sure ain’t!” agreed Farmer Hill. “Why, Widow Stirling’s ‘bout the nicest woman around these here parts. When my wife was sick, it was Mrs. Stirling who nursed her back to health.”

    “And she sure can bake a tasty pie!” Travis exclaimed, patting his stomach. He gave a sigh over the remembrance of certain mouth-watering pies he had eaten.

    “She took care of my young’uns that time me an’ the missus had to be out of town,” put in Mr. Butler.

    “It’s not that Mr. King don’t have money,” Rancher Pickett said. “He tried to buy my new horse.”

    Travis nodded quickly. “Sure did.”

    “He wanted my pig!”

    “And my new watch. You’re right, Pickett.” Mr. Butler’s indignation over the injustice being done brought him out of his quietness. “We have to do somethin’.”

    The talk continued long into the afternoon as the four men tried to think of a way to help Mrs. Stirling and her children. Snowflakes drifted down but melted unnoticed. At last, as the sun, peeking through the clouds, was starting to set behind the western mountains, the men shook hands and went their separate ways.

*

     Snow fell silently until it had dusted everything in sight with a fine layer of cold, white flakes. But no one was around to watch, for everyone was at home, snug and secure. Slumber descended on the western town and the surrounding ranches and farms. That is, it came to most homes. But in two houses that night there wasn’t much sleep.

    Jeffery King paced the floor of his fine house and fumed over his inability to get the things he wanted. He was frustrated. “Just four things!” he muttered, “and I can only get one.” He knew everyone has their price. He would just have to push the men harder and offer to pay more. “I will get what I want,” he murmured to his silent rooms. “And I will get them soon!”

What do you think the men will do?

How has your week been?

Have you gotten any Christmas cookies made yet?

The Price - Part 2

Happy 9th of December! Enjoy your next part of this story.

The Price

Part 2

    Mr. King rubbed his hands together, noticing for the first time that it was cold. “That’s going to take a lot of money, men.”

    “Yep.” Pickett nodded.

    And Travis echoed, “Yep.”

    “Got that much?”

    “Nope. Not yet.” Pickett didn’t sound worried or concerned and he kept his eyes on his horse.

    “I’d like to help you out,” Mr. King said, as though he was only a concerned neighbor. “I’ll buy that horse from you for one hundred dollars. Then you will–”

    Travis didn’t let him finish. “You what?”

    The horse stepped sideways at the suddenly raised voice.

    “I said I’ll buy your horse–”

    This time it was Rancher Pickett who interrupted. “No way!”

    “But–”

    “I suggest you turn around and start walkin’.” Mr. Pickett rested his hand on his six-shooter by his side, and nodded toward the road. His meaning was clear.

    In exact imitation of his boss, Travis put his hand on his own six-shooter. “Start walkin’.

    Mr. King stormed off the ranch. This day was not going the way he had planned. He didn’t notice the sunshine, or the clouds in the north that might bring snow before the week was over. The cold seemed colder, but his rapid strides kept him warm as he strode back toward town. He was disgusted at the petty sentimental feelings some people had for their animals.

    Once back in town with his temper cooled off somewhat, Mr. King spied the third thing on his Christmas list, and he went right to work to acquire it.

    There, sitting on a bench near the General Store sat Mr. Butler reading a newspaper while the silver chain of his new watch hung from his pocket. Mr. King could almost feel the weight of the silver watch in his own pocket right then.

    “Good afternoon, Mr. Butler,” Mr. King began. “Are you enjoying this fine day?”

    Mr. Butler lowered his paper and stared at the well dressed man before him. “Yep.”

    “Are your wife and children doing well?”

    “Yep.” Mr. Butler raised his paper to resume his reading.

    “Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it.” Mr. King glanced around but saw no one nearby though a few people were down the street. “Mr. Butler, I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

    Mr. Butler, never much with words, lowered his paper and waited in silence.

    “You see, my watch quit working and I can’t do without one. I need another before Christmas. I’d like to buy yours.”

    “Nope.” Mr. Butler lifted his paper.

    “I’ll pay you cash.” Mr. King pulled out the stack of bills he hadn’t been able to get Mr. Hill to take.

    “Nope.”

    “Then I’ll pay you in gold.” And he pulled out a bag and bounced it a little in his hand. “Real gold.”

    “Nope.”

    “Oh, I know you have a price! What do you want for it?”

    Silence.

    Mr. King tried again and again. He raised his price. He begged. He even threatened, but Mr. Butler continued to read his paper as though Mr. King didn’t exist.

    Finally the wealthy man had to accept defeat–for the time being anyway–and he stomped away toward the edge of town. His day had gone from bad to worse and his mood was sour.

    Mrs. Stirling was knitting and rocking in her favorite chair while her children made paper chains on the floor to decorate the tree they would get in a few days. The fire in the stove cast a warm, comforting glow, and the coffee pot sent forth an aroma as it warmed on top of the stove.

    Into the midst of the quiet afternoon came a loud knock. Startled, for visitors seldom came to the Stirling home that late unless there was trouble, Mrs. Stirling laid aside her knitting and rose to answer it.

    “Mr. King!” she exclaimed upon seeing that man standing before her door. “Won’t you come in out of the cold?”

    There was a scowl on Mr. King’s face as he stepped inside.

    “Would you like some coffee?”

    “No!” His voice was almost a shout, and young Sam hid behind his sister in fright. “I hold the mortgage of this house.” Mr. King glared

    Mrs. Stirling nodded, her hands clasped together.

    “Well, I’m foreclosing. You either pay off the rest of the money before Christmas or out you go.”

Let me know what you think of this so far.

The Price - Part 1

Good morning, FFFs!

I hope your brain isn't as scrambled and overwhelmed as mine is! It takes more brain power than I thought to write and direct two plays, collect scenery, get things set up, figure out practice dates and times, adjust costumes when things won't work, plus play two violin songs, sing in the choir, direct the children's bell group, write other stories, create blog posts, and everything else. Ugh! My brain was jumping from one thing to the next thing, to the next, and I was tired! Yesterday I decided to take a break. I didn't write. I didn't work on blog posts. I didn't format the Christmas story for our Christmas cards. Instead I relaxed and read. In fact, I read quite a bit of the afternoon and evening. It was refreshing! Now I feel like I can do something else today.

And that's the reason you haven't gotten many blog posts on here this month. Hopefully that will change before long. I know you'll at least get more of this story. This is the story the Christmas play is written from. Actually I wrote the story (without as much setting and stuff) then turned it into the play and changed some things, and then edited the story with some of the changes I'd made for the play, and with more detail.

I hope you enjoy it! :) Oh, and don't forget to head over to my Read Another Page blog to see what book I'm sharing there.

The Price

Part 1

    In the small western town of Buffalo Wallow, there lived a widow and her two children. Widow Stirling was well known around town and liked by almost everyone. She and her children lived in a modest home on a prime spot of land near the edge of town. That home was filled with laughter and smiles. Everyone who came was always welcomed.

    On the other end of town lived Jeffery Reginald King, the town’s most wealthy man. Unlike Widow Stirling, Mr. King wasn’t well liked, for he fancied that wealth was more important than character, and that money would purchase anything. His house was almost out of place in the small town, for it was grand and tall.

    One day in the middle of December, Jeffery King paced his fine home and frowned. He didn’t notice his rich furniture, his costly paintings, his expensive curtains, nor feel the warmth of his fire.

    “There are just four things I want for Christmas,” he said to himself, his dark mustache twitching. “Just four things, and I’m bound and determined to get ‘em too.” Stopping short he gave a decided nod. “And I might as well get ‘em now, ‘cause everyone has his price.” With that he snatched up his hat and left his lovely home.

    Not too far outside of town lived a farmer who raised pigs. To this farm Mr. King went with firm steps and one purpose in mind. After knocking on the farmhouse door and being told by Mrs. Hill that her husband was “round back,” he picked his way through the muddy yard wondering just how far “‘round back” was. At last he found the farmer looking at his prize-winning pig.

    “Mr. Hill,” began Mr. King without so much as a good morning, “I want to buy that pig. How much will you take?”

    Slowly Mr. Hill turned around, looking slightly surprised to see his visitor. “You talkin’ to me, King?” His voice was a low drawl.

    “Of course I am,” snapped Mr. King. “There is no one else to talk to.”

    “You might have been talkin’ to Gertrude,” and Mr. Hill stooped to pat his prize pig who was nosing his boots.

    Mr. King grunted. “I wasn’t. I want to buy that thing.” He pulled a stack of money out of his pocket. “How much?”

    Folding his arms, Mr. Hill shook his head. “I’m not selling Gertrude. Why she’s a prize pig! I’ve won a blue ribbon in every fair I took her too.”

    “Fifty dollars.”

    “Nope.”

    “Sixty.”

    “Huh uh.”

    “Seventy. And you won’t get a better price anywhere!”

    But Mr. Hill shook his head. “I ain’t sellin’ her. Have a merry Christmas, Mr. King.” Without another word Mr. Hill returned to his pig and left his visitor to find his own way off his property.

    A frown darkened Jeffery King’s face as he marched away forgetting to look for the cleanest, firmest steps. He would get that pig, just see if he didn’t! He was sure that everyone had his price.

    It was a long walk to the Pickett ranch, but Mr. King was so determined to succeed in one of his quests that he didn’t notice. Nor did he pay any attention to the cold winter day.

    Mr. Pickett and his foreman, Travis, were out in the corral with their new horse, a fine looking animal, when Mr. King arrived. Travis was mounted and slowly riding the horse around in the corral. Having learned something from his last experience, the wealthy man tried a different approach.

    “That’s a mighty fine looking animal you have there, Pickett, Travis.” He nodded politely to both men.

    Rancher Pickett leaned on the fence. “She shore is. Ain’t another horse in a hundred miles that can stick with her. Why she’s goin’ to be the best purchase I ever made for this ranch.”

    Travis drew rein and added, “Just picture it, King; in a dozen years these hills,” he motioned to the rolling hills of the Pickett ranch, “will be full of magnificent horses just like this one!” Smiling, he patted the neck of the horse.

    Mr. King rubbed his hands together, noticing for the first time that it was cold. “That’s going to take a lot of money, men.”

Has your brain ever felt scrambled?

Have you read many Christmas stories yet?

Do you want the next part of this story on Monday or Tuesday?

Christmas at the Mall?

I know I've shared this other Decembers, but I still love it.

Happy early December!