Holiday Horses
by Darren Stone
Dan Storm stood in the sawdust and shavings, trying to imagine the
horse that
would be deserving of this most beautiful chunk of tree. He had come
across the
huge maple log quite by accident one day, while following a slow-moving
cloud
across the sky.
"It’s as big as a horse," he remembered thinking; and so his
rocking-horse project had begun.
Already, you could make out the shoulders and ribs, the general shape
of the
nose, and most of the tail - although it was still a mystery just how
dramatic
the tail would finally fly. The legs were finished; they lay in a box
near the
snow shovels and dry kindling. Dan knew from the inception how the legs
must
be, and they came quickly. Strong, muscular, lean - one set
contradicting the
other in motion - yes, these were ideal racing legs. Wild, untamed
spirited
legs. Rocking-horse legs.
The maple itself had the most beautiful figuring Dan had ever seen; it
was easy
to find the animal straining to break free inside. The lines curved and
stretched and broke apart, and Dan could feel the horse’s heavy
chest now.
Still, it was hard to imagine the face. The eyes. They should be
gentle, yet
determined. And inviting. The eyes would show the horse’s
personality, and Dan
spent many nights sketching eyes. Lemon-shapes. Almonds. Angry. Joyful.
Bold.
All kinds of eyes.
The work on the torso continued as this eye deliberation went on. The
horse
would be grand. Dan had made platters and chairs before, and even
dolls’ heads,
but never anything as magnificent as a rocking-horse. He had thought
once or
twice before, about getting himself a real horse. After all, it was
just himself
and his tools up here on this big mountain. It could get a little
lonely, and a
horse…….well, a horse would be a fine way to wander the
forests, if the weather
wasn’t too bad. A distraction from the cozy home with the unused
bassinet and
the half-empty bed he slept in.
Might be a nice change from sitting in that rocking chair up on the
porch, and
watching the rain fall through the holes in his life.
But a real horse was still too many priorities away; especially for a
man with
half a wooden horse still hiding in a block of maple.
The snow was falling in fat slices as Miss Mandrake began the last
half-day of
class before the holiday break. The children would not be expected to
have an
actual lesson today. It would be as treasonous as declaring no
Christmas at
all! Christmas was erupting inside them all, and this was no time for
nouns and
verbs and subjects and predicates. Many of their mothers were here
also,
helping with the pies and punch; making as much party for themselves as
for the
children.
After every child had a plate piled high with cookies and candies and
Mrs.
Singh’s mystery sandwiches, and all the desks had been arranged
in the
traditional Holiday semi-circle, Miss Mandrake began this special
day’s lesson.
"What I Would Give," she wrote on the board.
"As you are enjoying your fruits and pies," she said, "please
consider what you would give, if you could give Anything in the world.
I will
be expecting a paragraph from each of you."
The moaning went on for a few minutes, but finally the children grew
quiet and
began to write. The munching sounds of cookies and nuts began to fade.
The red
punch crackled gently over the ice. Soon, all was silent. Even the room
mothers
fell to silence as they pondered what they might give, if they could
give
Anything.
Nobody heard the windows rattle as the December wind gusted.
Nobody heard Miss Mandrake slip her shoes off under her own desk.
And miles away, nobody heard Dan Storm’s rhythmic sanding and
filing of a
child’s rocking-horse.
"Mama says we have everything we need, and don’t take no
handouts. But I
keep thinking it would sure be nice to give Steven a horse. He’s
my little
brother, and his legs ain’t right. And Mama says he will be able
to walk when
God is good and ready for him to walk. But if he had a horse he could
ride
beside me and Cotton when we go out and play. That’s our dog. If
I could give
Anything, I would give Steven a horse."
This was the third time Miss Emily Mandrake had read Adam’s
assignment, and she
felt a familiar pain in her chest. She remembered her own sister, Eve,
and the
first time they laid eyes on Ginger, The World’s Most Beautiful
Horse. A horse
that was so loved by the two girls, Emily could still sense the slight
jealousy
their father sometimes hinted at. "I can arrange to move your bedroom
into
the barn," he had said so many times, she could even remember the way
he
held the "rrr" in "barn." Soon enough, Eve had her own
horse, Emily had Ginger for herself, and the two sisters would ride
from
sunrise through the story books, around the world, and into the night.
But she had no horse now. "Where would I keep it? Besides, it’s
hard
enough just taking care of myself. What man wants an old schoolteacher
who
smells like a horse?" And she dismissed the whole idea as if she had
just
been offered a job as The Snake Woman in the carnival. This was
Adam’s wish not
hers. "And I mustn’t forget to pick up rock salt on the way home."
Dan raced home to his woodshop and stared the great, blind, wooden
horse in the
face. He held a small chisel in one hand, the horse’s mighty jaw
in the other.
Within an hour, the deed was done. The miracle of sight. The soul of
this beast
was finally released, and Dan fell to his knees, weeping. He wept
because the
birth of this maple animal brought him joy.
And he wept in pain. For in his haste to rush home to the wood with no
eyes, he
had overlooked one detail. Who’s eyes had actually inspired this
frenzy?
"Where was…who…?" He clenched his fists and hit his
temples, but
still nothing seemed clear. The back of Buddy’s General Store was
generally a
little dark, but he had seen those eyes. She had simple features. Those
eyes.
Was it a blue dress? Those eyes. She had smiled at him. Yes! She had
smiled!
And she was asking Buddy’s son for salt.
Christmas was three days away now, and Dan had agreed to show the
rocking-horse
in Buddy’s front window. On the seat a sign was placed, "Display
Only, Not
For Sale," but it would draw the attention of passers-by, and perhaps
Dan
would get an order or two for next Christmas, or even a birthday. True,
there
were no great maple logs just lying around, but there was plenty of oak
and ash
and other nice wood. "Just tell the folks to leave their names, and
so-forth, and I’ll be in touch with ‘em."
When Emily Mandrake passed by and saw Ginger in the window, her heart
stopped.
"But I’ve just got to have it," she insisted.
"Well, like I said ma’am," Buddy shook his head. "I seen
ol’
Dan’s face just a-leavin’ it here, and I don’t think
he’s got no idea at all
‘bout givin’ her up." As Buddy looked up from the
rocking-horse there was
something familiar about Emily’s gentle, determined look, but he
couldn’t place
it, and just said, "I’ll tell him if I see him."
I’ll tell him myself, if you’ll just write the name of his
establishment
here," and Emily handed Buddy the back of a ruled notebook.
"Miss Mandrake, I been tryin’ to tell you - there ain’t no
establishment.
It’s just Dan Storm and a house full of wood and tools. He sorta
takes to the
woods around his place, and don’t spend a lotta time around town.
But he’s a
kind man, and I don’t think there’s no harm in me
givin’ ya’ his directions.
"Bundle up good now, and if I were you, I’d take along a lemon
pie or
somethin’."
The eighty yards or so from the main road to Dan’s front door
were only accessible
on foot. Emily was glad she had waited until the next afternoon to
visit the
woodworker. It hadn’t snowed all night, and the sun was out
today. "My
what a lovely place to live," she mumbled to herself. "Just Dan Storm
and a house full of wood, huh?" she continued. "Well, Mr. Storm, I
hope you turn out to be amiable to guests," and she began to wonder if
and
how a hermit woodworker would entertain any lady friends.
"Bit of a walk, isn’t it?"
She looked towards the home, still a good thirty yards off, but the
voice was
coming from a clump of young trees on her left.
"Yes, and it…," and her voice trailed as she recognized the
stranger
wearing the same purple flannel he had been wearing in Buddy’s
tool aisle a
week or so ago. The strange man she almost had the nerve to introduce
herself
to. The lunatic who had looked her way, stared at her face, then
dropped his
rubber mallets and sandpapers and whatevers, running out of the store
as if he
alone had heard the cry of "Fire!"
She looked him in the eyes, still searching for a clue to his
disposition.
Now it was Dan whose heart stopped.
Those eyes.