To All People - Part 2

 Hello again!

    Here's the next part of the Christmas story I wrote for the church play. Enjoy!

To All People - Part 2

That evening the town-folk gathered around the sheriff with questions about the man.

            Lifting his hands, Sheriff Kassen quieted everyone. “Hold it! Just listen a minute. I wasn’t able to find out anything about that man. He didn’t leave tracks enough to follow. That could mean he’s just a mountain man who knows how to move without being followed, or–” He let his sentence hang unfinished in the air.

            Some of the women moved closer together.

            “Since most of our men are off getting supplies for the town, I think it would be best if we joined forces during the nights so that none of you ladies are alone without protection in case of . . . well, just in case. Mrs. Nelson, you stay with Deputy Moreland and his wife. Mrs. Fisher, do you have room in your boarding house for myself, Mrs. Stokes and Charlie, Mrs. Crawford and Miss Kate?”

            “Of course!”

            “Sheriff,” Mrs. Crawford protested. “I really think we are letting our imaginations run away with us. The man might just be looking to spend Christmas with someone, and–”

            “Or” Sheriff Kassen interrupted, “he might be the leader of a gang of outlaws I’ve heard about who come into town on Christmas Day and rob it.”

            Many of the ladies gasped.

            “Wherever did you hear that?” Mrs. Crawford asked.

            “Newspaper. Back east. Now as I was saying–”

            “Well, Sheriff,” Kockenbrock remarked, “tomorrow ain’t Christmas.”

            With a thoughtful frown, the sheriff stroked his mustache. “True,” he admitted at last. “If any of you ladies wish to remain in your own homes tonight, you may do so, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

            As Mrs. Crawford and her daughter walked away to their own home, Kate asked, “Mama, are you sure it’s safe to stay home alone?”

            “We won’t be alone, Kate,” Mrs. Crawford said, putting an arm around her daughter. “Remember, our Heavenly Father has promised to never leave us nor forsake us. Besides, I don’t think that man would have said he had come down for Christmas if he was an outlaw, do you?”

 

*

 

            The sun rose in a clear sky, offering hope and joy for Christmas Eve day, but Sheriff Kassen didn’t notice. He stood on the street with one hand on his six-shooter and a stern look on his face.

            “Mornin’, Sheriff!” Deputy Moreland greeted him as he strolled up. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

            The sheriff grunted what might have been “good morning” or might have been something else.

            Deputy Moreland went on. “All was quiet last night like Mrs. Crawford thought. How’d you sleep?”

            “I didn’t,” Sheriff Kassen growled. “I found the man’s campsite and kept watch.”

            “What did you find out?

            A cheery whistle sounded before the sheriff could reply, and Mr. Kockenbrock strolled by, pausing to remark, “Mrs. Fisher said she’d make flapjacks tomorrow! Nothing like flapjacks on Christmas morning.” Giving a sigh that changed to a whistle, the man wandered off.

            Deputy Moreland turned back to the sheriff, “And you found out what?”

            Sheriff Kassen opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted again. This time by Mrs. Crawford and Kate.

            “Good morning, Sheriff, Deputy Moreland. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

            “It sure is,” Deputy Moreland said, nodding with a smile.

            “Oh, Deputy Moreland, do you know if your wife still wants that sugar? And Sheriff, do you think we could ask Mr. Kockenbrock about getting a Christmas tree this year, or were you or Deputy Moreland planning on getting one?”

            “Mrs. Crawford, please!” Sheriff Kassen exclaimed. “We have a situation on our hands. Now is not the time to be thinking about things like Christmas trees!”

            “What situation is that, Sheriff? Tomorrow is Christmas, you remember.”

            “Of course I do, but that man is still around!”

            Kate turned to her mother. “Mama, do you think he’d like some cookies too?”

            “I’m sure he would, Kate.” Mrs. Crawford turned to the sheriff. “Do you know where he stayed? Perhaps Kate and I could–”

            “Ma’am, this is a highly sensitive situation. It would be best if you left all things regarding this stranger in the hands of the law.”

            Mrs. Crawford smiled sweetly. “I’m not trying to do your job for you, Sheriff, but just remember that the angels did announce good tidings of great joy to all people. Come along, Kate, I see Mrs. Stokes. Perhaps she has come for those buttons.”

            With a nod to the sheriff and his deputy, Mrs. Crawford and her daughter hurried away to the store.

            Deputy Moreland turned once more to the sheriff. “DID you find anything out?”

            “Nothing much. He kept his fire going all night.”

            “It was cold out last night.”

            The sheriff grunted.

            Just then the mountain man appeared in the streets.

            “We could be in for trouble,” Sheriff Kassen muttered to his deputy. “Keep your eyes open.”

            “Yes, sir.” Then, with a sigh, Deputy Moreland pushed back his hat and scratched his head.

 

*

 

            “I tell you,” Mrs. Stokes exclaimed, “I hardly slept a wink last night!”

            “Me either,” Mrs. Fisher agreed.

            The little general store had once again become the meeting place for the women of Western, and there they gathered to compare thoughts and voice their opinions of the stranger who had arrived.

            “I don’t think my husband was worried,” Mrs. Moreland said, “I could hear him snoring in the front room. Of course he wakes right up if so much as the cat enters the room, but still–” She shook her head.

            Mrs. Nelson said nothing but shifted her baby and patted his back.

            Mrs. Stokes spoke again. “I think something should be done. The man is obviously not to be trusted, and I’m sure I won’t have a moment’s rest until he is gone.”

            “Now really,” Mrs. Crawford began.

            “I agree,” Mrs. Moreland said, “we don’t want an outlaw lurking around our town during Christmas.”

            “Perhaps we can get Sheriff Kassen to–” Mrs. Fisher broke off as the stranger appeared in the street before the store.

            He paused, hesitated, and then walked to the door, opened it and stepped inside. As though parted by an invisible force, the ladies moved to either side of the store and almost held their breath.

            “Good morning,” Mrs. Crawford greeted the man with a smile. “Merry Christmas Eve. What can I get for you today?”

            “Cinnamon sticks.”

            “Of course. How many would you like?”

            “Jest two. Ain’t had none fer nigh on seven years.”

            Mrs. Crawford pulled out the spicy rolls of cinnamon bark. “What brings you to our little town?”

            “Christmas.” The man paid for his cinnamon.

            “How nice.”

            The man nodded then coughed a little and shifted.

            “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mrs. Crawford inquired.

            “I reckon maybe. Do ya folks have yer Christmas readin’ this evenin’ or in the mornin’?”

            “Oh, we have it on Christmas morning. I do hope you plan to be there.” There was no mistaking the earnestness of Mrs. Crawford’s voice.

            “I reckon I will.” Then, without another word, the man turned and left the shop.

            Hardly had he gone when Sheriff Kassen rushed in. “Are you ladies all right? Did he try to steal anything, Mrs. Crawford?”

            “What? Of course not!”

            Mrs. Stokes hurried over. “Sheriff, you must do something and get rid of that man! I’m sure he’s an outlaw!”

            “We heard he killed a few men up in Canada,” Mrs. Fisher put in, “and escaped to these mountains.”

            “And,” Mrs. Moreland added, “he’s the leader of a band of outlaws who have robbed stagecoaches and banks.”

            “Please, Sheriff,” Mrs. Nelson begged, “he frightens me!”

            “I suppose I could tell him he wasn’t welcome here any longer,” Sheriff Kassen began. “But that might make him angry enough to do more than rob us tomorrow.”

            “Sheriff Kassen!” Mrs. Crawford marched around the counter her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you! What proof do any of you have that the man who was just in here is a murderer, thief, outlaw, or has plans to rob us on Christmas morning?”     

            Silence answered her.

            “None of you have any sort of proof. It’s all just wild imaginations, speculations, and prejudice. Why, he as much as said he was planning on coming to the Christmas service in the morning. And didn’t God send His angels to proclaim the good news and the great joy to ALL men when Jesus was born? Didn’t that mean everyone? And didn’t the angels also proclaim peace on earth and good will toward men?”

            “But,” Mrs. Nelson said, “he doesn’t talk like we do.”

            “And he looks dirty,” Mrs. Moreland put in.

            “And he’s so tall,” Mrs. Fisher added.

            “And he has a bad reputation,” Mrs. Stokes reminded them.

            “Does John 3:16 say that God loves those who have good reputations?” Mrs. Crawford shook her head, and her voice grew gentler. “I know he’s different, but don’t you think the shepherds were dirty, and maybe talked differently, or looked differently? Did that stop the good news of our Savior’s birth from being shared with them?” She looked around the store, but no one would meet her eyes. “Kate, mind the store for me a few minutes please.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Mrs. Crawford,” Sheriff Kassen asked, “where are you going?”

            “To ask Mr. Tiny if he would bring us a Christmas tree to decorate for tomorrow. If I can find him.”

            “He’s right over there, ma’am,” Deputy Moreland pointed from the open door.

            With only a nod to him, Mrs. Crawford hurried away.

            Sheriff Kassen stepped from the shop and frowned at his deputy. “I thought I ordered you to keep an eye on that man.”

            “I have been. He hasn’t gone very far.” He pointed to the tall man Mrs. Crawford was now talking to before the next shop.

            With a sigh, the sheriff shook his head. “Do I trust the rumors, Moreland, or try to believe the best of him?”

            “Let’s believe the best, sir,” Deputy Moreland suggested. “Since we can’t prove the rumors are anything except stories.”

 

 The final part will be posted tomorrow.

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