A Prairie Rose

Chapter 25

When nobody seemed to heed my warning, my alarm grew. Again, I stated, something was wrong. The fire was going, and there was a large shadow moving about inside. I saw Hattie become aware of the situation, then Grace, and finally all of the commotion brought forth a response.

Mr. Hansen glanced back once again, smiling inscrutably at us as the wagon slowed to a stop. The horses whinneyed and knickered. "Just a bit of a Christmas surprise. Come on now, girls. Don't forget anything in the wagon."

I walked behind the rest of the family slowly, perhaps a bit too nervous about what was waiting in the house- clearly it had been planned by Mr. Hansen, but I had never really had a Christmas surprise before. I had no idea of what to expect. Cautiously, I reached for my bonnet, pushing it off of my head. It held around my throat by the soft, ribbon strings. But I did not want it on my head for this. If there truly was some threat, my bonnet kept me from being able to see anything on either side of me- I could only see straight forward. That wouldn't be the best for trying to escape.

He knocked on our own front door instead of just opening it, and a man stepped out- I recognized him as the one who had stabled the family's horses before Mr. Hansen had built our very own stalls on the property. He shook hands with the man, now, and I watched as Mr. Hansen slipped several bills into the other man's hand and thanked him for coming out on Christmas.

The man smiled and nodded and told us he sure hoped we enjoyed our holiday before mounting a horse I had somehow missed and heading back off towards his own homestead.

"Come on, then," Mr. Hansen said, opening the door for us. "We'll have real Christmas this year."

I let everyone else step in before me- but when I did, the first thing I saw was the tree. It was only a small one- perhaps four or five feet tall- but more than I had ever had before. Below it were gifts wrapped with brown paper, tied up with red ribbon and twine. There were pies and breads set out on the table, and the tree was decorated with candles and a few ornaments and ribbons and candy canes.

Hattie and Grace rushed towards the tree, but I stood in the doorway, frozen.

"Come on, then, Rose," Mr. Hansen prompted gently, a hand on my shoulder. He led me to the tree, where Grace and Hattie were already emptying their stockings. "We start here- the real gifts come after."

I had never been given a Christmas stocking before. I stared at it for a few moments- it was knitted, and a pretty white and gray color- I recognized it as leftover material from Mrs. Hansen's spools. Grace and Hattie's stockings were both a matching light pink, and had clearly been made before mine- they likely reused theirs each year.

And now I had my very own to use again and again, too. It may not have matched Grace and Hattie's, but I loved it all the same.

Slowly, I opened the top of my stocking. Sticking just out the top was a little paper windmill- clearly homemade. Hattie had one, as well, though she had been quick to lay it to the side and continue searching through her stocking. I stared at mine, and spun it, and blew on it before finally setting it aside and looking back in the stocking.

Below that, I had a set of jacks along with a little ball, a dozen or so marbles in a little sack, and a wooden spinning top- I knew Mr. Hansen had carved it himself, because it had my very own name scratched into the top. Then I found a pencil- which Mrs. Hansen said I would need for school- and then nuts and hardcandy and a little orange. I had never had an orange before, and I ate every bit of it before reaching for my new toys.

Mrs. Hansen took the peel away from me, though. Though I told her I did not want to waste any of it, she insisted that the peel was not for eating. She would make some Christmas candied peels, she said. She promised I would love the smell that filled the home as the peels boiled over the fire.