The Night the Mules Saved
Christmas
Not many years
have passed since Santa did come, High o’er the plains of Saskatchewan
Crossed from
Alberta and into the States- when a Nor’easter caught him in a whirl of
snowflakes.
The air
pressure dropped and the sleigh it did plunge- crashed midst the wilds of the
Shining Mountains.
The reindeer
spiraled and gallantry strove, lifting the sleigh from the wreckage they dove
Down to the
valley from the storm to find shelter, but poor Santa was left with the gifts
helter-skelter.
He rose on
shaky legs peering about, and in the white darkness confronted the snout
Of a tawny fat
mule fit to be tied by this red fluffy elf man stroking his hide.
The creature
bellowed and whistled and clattered ‘till cussing, the boss came to see what
was the matter.
Quickly
deducing the sad situation, he kindly invited Clause in for a ration
Of cowboy
coffee and cornbread off the stove. “I’d lend you ma’ truck, but the
transmissions’ froze…”
He pondered,
“seems the fastest way to get you below is to take my saddle horse n’ mules.”
and so
They gathered
the presents and packed ‘em up good while the mules in tandem quietly stood.
Content to
cooperate on this special night, they wheezed and warbled and crooned their
delight.
The mule
skinner grinned as he saddled old Ted, “my canaries, now, they’ll make up fer
yer sled.”
“When ya catch
up to yer outfit, just let the stock go. They’ll find there way back- then
again, maybe no.”
The Old-timer
winked and slapped the lead rump, and Santa was off with a lurch and a bump.
Careful,
steady, surefooted their descent. Cross the Bob Marshall, down the Swan Range
they went.
St. Nick he
held tightly the lantern and saddle, and gave Ted his head and his trust for
the battle.
Sure enough, by
the lights of Big Fork they found the sleigh with the reindeer nosing the
ground
For the last of
the birdseed they’d knocked from the feeders on the manicured lawns of the
condos. Now readers,
If you believe
this, you’re in good company along with the Mayor who called up to see
Who in
tarnation these mules belonged to, who’d torn up the town, and who they should
sue.
But the
Old-timer laughed as this story he related, “The Mules save Christmas- they
should be Celebrated!”
by Molly E Wilson, Christmas 2013
