Punch

This wasn't the story I intended to write, but someone posted a sentence over at the one of the groups and this little tale sprung almost fully formed! A rare foray into first person for me!

I’m good at reading signs. I can read them on faces as well as on the ground, it's why I play a fair game of poker.  It's how I can tell if the guy I'm facin' across the table is gonna do somethin' stupid cos he losing. It sure comes in handy when I'm tryin' not to draw.  Heyes might have me beat at his best, but sometimes he gets so tied up in being four steps ahead of everyone else that he forgets to mind his back or his front for that matter, so that's where I come in.  Drawin' quick weren't so much of a problem when we was outlaws- lot less easy to explain away now we're tryin' for amnesty. Even Heyes gotta think a bit harder to account for why Thaddeus Jones- who's got more than a passin' resemblance to an outlaw named Kid Curry is as fast as he is.  

We was in Gunnison tryin' to keep our heads down. I was still recoverin' from a touch of the grippe and we was both tryin' not to think too hard about all that gold we'd got stole from us.

Heyes was playin at a low stakes table and I was at the bar watching him, not in the mood to do much 'cept drink the rot gut that they was passing off as whiskey. I glanced at the man next to Heyes and saw that look on his face- the look a man gets when he's flat busted and about to do somethin' him and everyone else is gonna regret. Heyes was lookin' at his cards and hadn't seen it yet. I saw the moment the idiot made his choice. Not a gun I figured, a fist. I wasn't quite close enough to get there before he stood, tipping the table upwards as he did so.

Heyes moved quickly away but still got caught by his flying fist.  With a snarl he started to dive on Heyes but everyone from that table and many from the surrounding games all decided to join in. Half of them were trying to stop the fightin', but the other half were more than happy to fling their own fists. Heyes managed to duck round the upturned table. I stepped over two men on the floor trying to beat each other one senseless and yanked Heyes the rest of the way out of danger.

We sat against the far wall and watched the chaos from a safe distance. Heyes was stroking the left side of his face and wincing. I squinted at him through the smoke and could already see a bruise forming round his eye. He was smiling and I wondered for a minute till I saw the fist full of notes he was clasping in his right hand. “Don't seem right losing my winnings just because someone can't accept they're a lousy poker player. It sure seemed a cryin' shame to let the rest of it get trampled.”

I laughed,  you could always count on Heyes to make the best of somethin. He looked at my hand. “Kid you're bleeding.”

“I guess when I yanked ya out. I musta got caught on somethin'.” I moved my hand to see it better and shrugged. “Don't look too deep.”

Heyes with another quick glance nodded in agreement. “Yeah ain't no risk of bleeding to death.” He stood then with a wicked chuckle as I did the same.  “A coupla bruises and a cut ain't a high price to pay for more than doubling our money.” I laughed at the expression of glee on his face before looking back out towards the centre of the room where the collection of fights were still going on and showed signs of doing some damage to the furniture.

I  saw  the bartender lean over and say somethin' to one of the girls who nodded and ran to the door. I knew it wouldn't be long before the law arrived. “I think it best we ain't here when the sheriff arrives. “ Heyes stuffing the money in his pocket agreed and we made a quick exit onto the quiet street.

“That is so beautiful!”

“Yes, Mrs. Mueller, it really is.” Clementine Hale took a few steps back to admire the decorated Douglas Fir that filled one corner of her small parlor.

“It reminds me so much of when I was a girl, in Bremen.” 

Clementine reached over and took the older woman’s hand. “You must miss Germany very much.”

“I do, especially at Christmas. Every house had a decorated tree like this one.”

“And now, Denver is starting to look more and more like Bremen. I declare, I never saw so many people putting decorated evergreens in their homes. Christmas trees are everywhere.”

“Well, not quite everywhere, Miss Hale. But yes, it does remind me of Bremen.” Her eyes were damp, but she smiled. “And now, young American women like you are keeping my tradition alive.”

“And we will do, for a long time, so don’t you cry!” Clementine said, pointing one finger at her friend. “Besides, you’ve got Heinz to carry on your tradition.”

The young man looked up from where he knelt at the base of the tree. He turned a big screw tightly, then stood up. “I’ve got the tree nice and stable in the base, Miss Hale. You won’t have any problem with it. A Colorado blizzard could blow through this house, and it wouldn’t fall over.”

“Thank you, Heinz. I never could have put that tree up without your help.”

“It’s our pleasure, And please, would you call me Henry? It sounds more American.” 

Mrs. Mueller glared at her son. “And what is wrong with the sound of a German name? You are German!”

“That’s the old country, Mama. We’re Americans now.”

“And I, for one, am glad you’re both here, German or American. After all, my father’s new wife is German, too. Her family’s from Milwaukee.”

“She’ll feel right at home here, Miss Hale,” Heinz told her. “It looks just like our house, with the tree and the evergreens on the mantle.” He looked around the room, appraisingly. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Oh, yes! We forgot the mistletoe. Heinz,” Mrs. Mueller said, pointing, “Put it above the doorway here.” She turned to Clem, who had a doubtful look on her face. “But you must have it! They are newlyweds.”

“In that case, I suppose so. I certainly won’t need it.”

“Oh no, dear girl, you must not say that! You never know. Look at your father. He is in the autumn of his life, yet he found love. You are still young.”

“Alright then. Go ahead, Heinz. I mean, Henry.” The two women watched while he stood on a chair and hammered a nail into the door frame, then hung the mistletoe.

“Thank you both so much. The house has never looked so good.”

“Yes, I think it is ready for company. Your father and his bride will love it.”

“I think so. I hope so. It’s just. . . “ the Muellers looked at her expectantly as she struggled to find the right words. “I haven’t seen or heard from him for so long. It was a shock to find out he’d remarried.”

“But your mother is gone many years, isn’t that true?” Clementine nodded. “It is sad to be old and lonely. Now he has love. That is a good thing. And he has a good daughter, who makes a beautiful welcome for him.”

“Mrs. Mueller, you always say the nicest things.”

“If you can understand her accent, that is,” Heinz added.

“I understand it is time to go home. You have baking to do, yes?”

“I do. I want everything ready when they arrive, although I don’t know exactly when they’re coming. It’s already the 23rd. I expected a telegram from him by now.”

“We pass the telegraph office on the way home. If your telegram is there, Heinz can bring it to you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.”

“It’s no problem, Miss Hale,” Heinz said. “I’m going to walk Mama home, and then run a few more errands for her. I’ll be out anyway.”

“In that case, yes, that would be wonderful.”

Heinz took his coat and his mother’s from the rack, then held her coat while she put it on. “Then I wish you and your family a very happy Christmas,” Mrs. Mueller said.

“I think it will be. At first, I thought it would be a very quiet Christmas, just me by myself here, and I was fine with that. But now, I’m getting excited.”

“No quiet Christmas for you!” Mrs. Mueller told her. “If I thought you’d be alone at Christmas, I’d send Heinz to bring you to our house. Christmas is for family, and if family is not close, then for good friends. And you are a good friend to us.”

“Thank you again. I’ll see you next week and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I hope so!” Cold air blew in as the Muellers left, and Clementine closed the door tightly and cleaned against it. The house looked and smelled wonderful. Boughs of evergreen strewn across the fireplace mantel and around doorways filled the rooms with their fragrant aroma. With the decorating done, she could concentrate on her baking.

She went into the small kitchen and put on her muslin apron. Before long, she had soft dough ready to be put in ceramic bowls to rise. As soon as she covered the bowls with tea towels and placed them on the warm stove, she put a teapot on to boil. It was just starting to whistle when she heard a loud knock at the door. Oven mitt in hand, she put the teapot on a trivet and went to answer the door. 

“Miss Hale, I got your telegram for you!”

“Henry, thank you!” She put the telegram in her apron pocket. “You look cold! Would you like a cup of tea to warm you up?”

“No thank you. Mama’s got dinner waiting at home. I better hurry.”

“I’d hurry, too, if I was eating her food. Be careful going home!”

“I will!” Clementine watched him sprint down the street. He had enough energy for ten people. For herself, she was ready to relax. She prepared her cup of tea, stirred honey into it, and sat down in the parlor opposite the Christmas tree.

The tea tasted delicious. The scent of the evergreen, now mixed with that of the rising bread, lulled her into a light sleep. When she awoke, the tea was cold. She jumped out of the chair and almost ran into the kitchen. The bread looked good. Sighing with relief, she punched down both loaves before setting them out to rise a second time, then put the teapot on again. The stove had cooled down. She took logs from the basket and got the dying fire restarted. It would be a few minutes before the water got hot. She suddenly remembered the telegram in her pocket and took it out. The words made her gasp.

SORRY – NOT COMING – GOING TO MILWAUKEE TO SEE ANNA’S BOYS – HAVE A GOOD CHRISTMAS – LOVE DADDY.

Blindly, she reached for a chair and fell onto it. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She read the telegram again. The words were still the same. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, letting the telegram fall, unheeded, to the floor. It looked like she would have a very quiet Christmas after all.

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Clementine woke up on Christmas Eve morning with a headache. The bedroom was cold. She pulled the quilts over her head, but that didn’t relieve the dull throbbing. Drinking some of the special brandy punch she’d prepared for her guests had seemed like a good idea last night. It didn’t seem like such a good idea now.

She threw off the quilts and stumbled into her slippers. Henry had put in a good supply of wood, so she was able to get fires started in her kitchen and in her Franklin stove. Soon, both were pumping out welcome heat. She washed and dressed, then made herself a simple breakfast of coffee and biscuits. 

There wasn’t much to do that day. All the preparations for her guests were complete, and now, no one was coming. She put the dishes in the sink and went into the parlor. She sat down on the sofa and looked at the decorations and sighed. It seemed such a shame that nobody would see this except her. And the Muellers, of course, but that was all. It just wasn’t fair that all this effort was wasted. It wasn’t fair for her father to visit his new wife’s sons instead of his own daughter.  

She shook herself mentally. Getting all emotional, like one of those silly women who cried at the drop of a hat, would never do. Better to think about something else. She reached into the sewing basket that was next to her chair and took out her latest knitting project. It was a sweater with all sorts of complicated stitches and color designs, and it required careful attention to do it correctly. 

The only sound in the house was the click-click-click of the knitting needles. Even the normal street sounds were muffled. Curious, she stood up to look out the window. Thick downy snowflakes were falling. The ground was already covered. Denver would have a white Christmas. Suddenly, she realized she was cold. How much time had passed? She put the sweater down in the chair and went to build up the fires again. 

She had just shut the stove door closed when she heard a knock at the door. Maybe Daddy was coming after all! She sprinted to the door and yanked it open.

“Oh, my stars! What are you two doing here?”

“What’s Christmas without our favorite girl?” Hannibal Heyes grabbed her by the waist and, holding her with her feet off the ground, kissed her hard.

“Hey! Save some of that for me!” Holding Clementine in his arms, Heyes passed her over to Curry, who swung around with her in a circle.

“Put me down right now! You’re making me dizzy!” 

‘Good old Clem! Ordering us around like usual. Aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Well, sure, but I can hardly believe you two are really here! Where did you come from?”

“We’ve been all over,” Heyes said. “Moving around like usual, job to job. You know how it is.”

“I most certainly do not! And I probably don’t want to know. But why are you here?”

“Clem! Heyes already told you. We came to spend Christmas with you. We thought you might be alone, and Christmas is no time to be alone.”

“There’s plenty of time to talk later,” Heyes said. “Right now, we got a cab waiting out front. We got to bring everything in before we get buried in this storm.”

“Everything? What’s everything? Why do you need everything?”

“We’re staying with you, Clem. We knew you had the extra bedroom, so why not? The more the merrier, right?”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no words came out. Both men grinned at her confusion.

“Never thought we’d see you at a loss for words, Clem. You just stand there and think about what you want to say while we unload.”

“Alright. What choice do I have?”

“None.” Curry leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “We’re going to make sure you have a good Christmas, whether you like it or not.”

She stood back and watched as they brought in several boxes, along with their luggage. 

“Just how long are you planning to stay? Till Easter?”

The men were stamping their feet on the threshold, trying to shake off the snow.

“We might have enough food to last till then, even with Kid’s appetite.”

“Nice. Heyes, why don’t you put our luggage in the bedroom – nobody’s there, right, Clem? Don’t give me that look. Just show me where to unpack all this food.” Clementine pointed to the small kitchen. Curry picked up a large box and put it on her small table. She gasped when he took off the lid.

“Oh my . . . “ 

“I know,” he said. “We got coffee, sugar, flour, eggs, butter – in case you want to bake for us. Got us a Virginia ham, canned goods, everything we could think of.”

“And what’s that?” She pointed at the box. He only grinned.

“You didn’t think we’d come her without liquid refreshment, did you, Clem? You’re not running a temperance house, are you?”

“Not with that haul, I’m not.”

“Glad to hear it!” Heyes said. “That bedroom looks real comfortable, Clem, almost like you were expecting us.” He paused, considering. “Were you expecting someone?”

“Yes, I was, but they’re not coming.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t matter. Now you got us! And I bet your other guests wouldn’t have brought all this.” He waved his arm to indicate all the goods that Curry was unloading.

“Definitely not all that whiskey.”

“Then you got lucky!” Curry held up one bottle. “This is a special one. Some kind of German spiced wine. It’s like a punch, but you got to drink it warm.”

“Well! Why don’t we heat it up and try it? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“That’s my girl!” Heyes told her. “We can have a drink in your parlor and look at that tree you got all decorated while Kid unpacks the presents.”

“Presents!” Her voice rose so high, she almost shrieked. “You brought me presents?”

“Clem! ‘Course we did! It’s Christmas!!”

“Can I open them now?” Curry folded her into a hug.

“You can open your presents anytime you like. They’re yours. It’s not like your father’s here, telling you that you got to wait till Christmas Day. You can do what you like.”

“No. He’s definitely not here. I think I’ll wait till tomorrow morning.” She smiled up at him. “And then, I’ll make us the best Christmas breakfast you ever had.”

“I think we can go along with that, Clem. Can’t we, Kid?”

“I sure can. For now, though, how about we get some of that German punch and sit in the parlor for a while, just catch up? And then we can decide exactly how we’re going to celebrate. Because we are definitely going to celebrate this holiday in style, the three of us together.” 

“Yes, we will,” Clementine said. “Because old friends are family. Maybe even better.”

“Better when you got friends like us, Clem. You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss each man on the cheek. “I like it fine. Now let’s get this celebration started!”