Just a Bunch of Shepherds - Part 2

 Happy Monday!

I decided not to make you all wait until Friday to read the next part of this little story. Enjoy!

 

 Just a Bunch of Shepherds

Part 2

 

    The house was dark and quiet when Old Sawyer entered. No sweet scent of fresh cookies or comforting smell of savory stew greeted him. It wasn’t how he was used to spending Christmas Eve.
    He lit the lamp, stirred up the fire in the stove and then looked into the cold, dark front room.
    “I’ll do it, Bessie,” he said with a glance at the picture hanging on the wall.
    Taking the lamp, he went in search of candles. He found them carefully wrapped in the bottom drawer of his wife’s worn writing cabinet. With tender hands, Old Sawyer settled each candle in its holder and these were then placed in the windows and the candles lighted. Their soft glow brought a smile to the old man’s face as he turned and set about the task of making his supper.
    As he worked, his thoughts drifted from one Christmas memory to another. The home had been so full of love and laughter as the children had grown up. There had been tears, but not many and they had always been softened by the knowledge that all things worked together for good.
    Old Sawyer ate his solitary supper in silence. Only the steady ticking of the clock on the mantel piece of the front room broke the quiet of the winter evening.
    “It sure would be nice if’n I had someone ta talk to come evenin’s. ‘Specially Christmas Eve. Somehow,” he murmured, “it jest don’t seem right to have this warm house an’ not be sharin’ it nohow. Even a dog would be somethin’.”
    He rose and washed his dishes and then, carrying the lamp, he moved into the front room. “I reckon the Good Lord didn’t have anyone who needed me.”
    After building a blazing fire in the fireplace, he settled into his favorite rocking chair and picked up his well worn Bible.
    “Now it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree . . . And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped in him swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. Now there were in the same country shepherds–”
    A slight noise distracted Old Sawyer and he looked up. “Did I shut the barn door? I’m sure I did.”
    Everything was hushed and still and the old rancher was about to return to his reading when another noise again came to his sharp ears.
    “Somethin’s out there.” Setting aside his worn Bible, he rose and shuffled into the dark kitchen. Peering out the window, he thought he caught a glimmer of light in the barn. “Now who would be prowlin’ ‘round my barn at a time like this?”
    It took but a few moments for his to pull on his coat, shove his feet into his boots and grab his rifle. Putting his hat on his head, he quietly opened the door and slipped outside, thankful he’d oiled the hinges in the fall when they started to squeak. He held no lantern to light his way but the moon shown and bright stars twinkled in the heavens.
    All was calm.
    The barn door was shut but not latched when Old Sawyer reached it. For a moment he hesitated, listening. He caught the sound of a low moan. Something wasn’t right.
    Keeping his rifle ready in one hand, he used the other and opened the door. “Who’s in here an’ what’re ya doin’?”
    A slight gasp and then a deep sigh broke the momentary silence. “Please, sir,” a man’s voice said, “we don’t mean you any harm, but we saw your candles in the windows and well–”
    A new voice, younger but still male broke in, “They looked so friendly like an’ the night was so cold, and our brother got hurt–”
    Old Sawyer’s hand found a lantern that always hung near the door but had seldom been used. Leaning his rifle against the wall beside him, he struck a light. Three faces, younger than he’d expected to see, looked up at him from the corner of the barn. One face was pale and the old man’s eyes noticed the stained bandage on his leg. “Who are ya?”
    “The Tyler boys, sir.” It was the older one who spoke. “We–well, we own the Ewe-T ranch.”
    “Yer the sheep ranchers, huh?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Old Sawyer’s brows knitted as the brother he guessed to be the youngest cringed. “What’re ya doin’ out this way on Christmas Eve? Have a run in with some cattle ranchers?”
    “Yes, sir. Or no, sir. That is–” The older one seemed to be having trouble speaking.
    With an effort, the injured brother raised himself up on one elbow. “We didn’t start anythin’. The others just come on us sudden an’ were shootin’ an’ we managed to get away, but they set fire to our house. We . . . were . . .” Clearly exhausted, the man fell back into his brother’s arms. his eyes closed.
    “We were goin’ to the sheriff,” the younger one added, looking worried. “But Mark can’t make it, an’ Titus ain’t sure the sheriff’ll help us, an’ the other men might be chasin’ us.”
    “Huh.” Old Sawyer grunted. “Maybe I don’t like sheep, an’ maybe I don’t hanker ta harbor any sheep-men in my barn for anyone that’s chasin’ ya ta find an’ upset my animals.”
    Titus spoke up. “I’m sorry, sir, for causin’ you trouble. We’ll be on our way.”
    “You’ll be on yer way up ta the house. It’s Christmas Eve an’ I’ve got room in my house. An’ I reckon if it were shepherds the news of the Savior’s birth was first told to, than I can give other such men shelter in my house. Now help yer brother there, an’ let’s get out a the barn.”

I'd love to know what you think of the story so far.