Those of you who have been on these lists for any time know that I write a story every Christmas - a "Gorin original" so to say. This will appear either next week or the week after next on KYRESEARCH so if you're on that list too, it'll be a duplicate. I hope you enjoy my story of "The Journey" The Journey An original story by Sandi Gorin for Christmas 2007. It was a cold December day in 1791. The winds howled around the little cabin in Amherst Co Virginia and the rags fastened over the few windows did little to stop the onslaught. The fire in the big fireplace in the combination living area, kitchen and bedroom tried its best to fight the cold, but could not possibly overcome. John and Susan Summers, parents of three children, huddled on their makeshift bed on the floor. Baby Jennifer in her cradle was within arm’s reach of her mother, and just far enough away from the fire to be safe. William, age 2 and Mary, aged 4 snuggled as close as they could to their parents, drawing warmth from each other yet shivering under the worn blanket and quilt. Wolves howled in the distance, surely cold and hungry themselves. The family dog Rover was even allowed inside for the night and curled up as close as allowed, hoping for his own respite from the freezing temperatures. “John?”, whispered Susan. “Yes, I’m awake, what’s wrong?” “Do we have to leave now, in winter?” “I’m afraid so Susan.” “The journey will be hard, especially now, but we must try to make it to Kentucky County somehow.” “Your sister’s death so young and leaving all those babies; Robert can’t take care of them by himself, we must go.” “I know John, I want to be there, but no one leaves on such a hard journey in the winter!” We shall surely freeze to death, and think of the children!” “Can’t he hold on to spring when some of our neighbors are going west to Fort Boonesborough?” “No darling, we will make it with God’s help.” “I’ve found a man, a good man, who said he will guide us.” “I’ll have to sell all the cows and hogs to raise enough money to pay him his wages, and we won’t be able to take much with us.” “The wagon is smaller than I wanted but was the largest I could find at this time of year.” “Oh, John, I can’t leave Mama’s bureau, and Granny’s tableware, it’s the nicest things we have!” “We will pack the wagon as tight as we can Susan, maybe we can get a few more things to fit.” With that, Susan drifted off to a restless sleep, always reaching out to touch the face of Baby Jennifer or pulling the tattered quilt over William and Mary. The days flew by as John negotiated sales of all but one of their cows, all their hogs and spared one chicken for eggs for breakfast. They would be sold the last day in Virginie. Inside the cabin, Susan packed and repacked what they would need along the way, trying to figure out how to save some of her Mama’s and Grannie’s treasures. She would run outside in the cold and tuck things in the wagon which often didn’t fit and would sadly bring them back inside. She would have to add them to the list of things to be sold on the last day or give them to other family members and friends. She tried not to think about her treasures; she had to have room for the children, the dog and provisions. The cold wind would demand every blanket and quilt she had; thankfully the neighbor wives from am far as ten miles away gave them extra food and provisions. These dear friends she would be leaving behind, how she would miss them and how worried they were for her. The day had finally arrived. The sun was bright and the snow sparkled like diamonds. The children were excited, not knowing the danger that lay before them. The last cow and chicken had been sold and the sale of their possessions had netted them an additional $25.00. Their guide had arrived and his horse was stomping impatiently in front of the cabin. John looked tired and worn, much beyond his 25 years. He would ride outside in the elements with the guide beside on the horse; Susan and the children would huddle inside when the temperatures started to drop. Far away neighbors, hearing of the emergency trip, rode up on horseback and wagon, wishing them well, knowing they would never see John and Susan again. One neighbor lady who lived the closest, walked up to Susan and slipped something in her hand; one of the silver spoons that had belonged to Grannie. She had bought the set at the sale but wanted Susan to have at least one spoon. The old minister, Rev. Williams, stopped by for a moment of prayer and then, the wagon pulled away. Susan kept looking out the back of the wagon until she could no longer see that precious cabin that John had built for them before their wedding day. The days were long, the nights were fearful. Unfamiliar rivers and mountains soon took the place of familiar farms and friendly faces. The snows began again, beautiful to look out but making the way more treacherous. Susan soon lost track of what day it was and where they were. John kept assuring her that they were getting closer all the time and telling the children that they were almost there. He was looking more gaunt by the day, the pounds seemed to be melting off him. If he wasn’t leading the wagon, he’d hand the reins to the guide and lean back in the seat and try to rest. At night Susan could hear him stirring outside when he should be sleeping; helping to keep the campfire burning and the wild animals away. Eyes showed in the timber looking at them, yellow eyes and mournful howls. When the guide said they were about half way through their trip, the unexpected happened. It had been an exceptionally raw day the day before and John had worked harder than usual to keep the wagon on the little buffalo trail. The mountains seemed to be growing higher every day, the undergrowth thicker, the winds colder, the snow and ice more unforgiving. When Susan awoke, John was not beside her and she knew he had been making rounds. After throwing a shawl and one of John’s coats around her and leaving her children sleeping, she awkwardly climbed out of the wagon, trying not to slip on the ice. She looked around but couldn’t find John. The guide was walking towards her with a shovel in his hand, not meeting her gaze. She screamed out “John!”, but there was no answer. The guide approached her slowly, every step measured, every step pained and came up to Susan. “Ma’am, if you’re looking for your husband, I’m sorry …. I’m sorry.” “What” Susan screamed! “I found your husband frozen to death this morning outside the wagon. “The fire must have gone out while I was dozing and I found him with a stick in his hand, as if to toss on the fire.” Susan began screaming for what seemed like hours. The tears froze on her face as she trembled all over. Baby Jennifer was crying, the other children were peering from inside the wagon. “What am I to do?” “What’s to become of us?” The guide tried to comfort her and brought her over by the fire. “Ma’am, there’s no turning back now; we’ve come too far.” “I’ll keep my oath, and deliver you and your young ‘ns to Fort Booneborough.” “You will be safe there and I will protect you.” And, the trip continued. Susan was lost in a world of grief and barely noticed the trip through the Cumberland Pass. All she could think about now was taking care of her baby and the children, bereft of a father to love and teach them. She thought of all the happy times they had shared in their brief marriage. While lost in thought, the guide now rode the wagon with his horse tied on behind. Day after day, night after night, the miles slowly passed by. Finally, the fort was in sight. It was a brilliantly star-lit night and the skies seemed to radiate with their brilliance. Susan woke up as the guide called out, “Ma’am, we’re here, that’s the fort ahead of us.” Susan sleepily emerged from the wagon and her two youngsters stirred also. She bundled them up and they were lifted down from the wagon. Even old Rover who had been dreaming of chasing a cat, hopped down beside them. Before they were cabins showing out from behind the stockade fence and smoke drifted skyward. The stars were twinkling making the scene before them look like something out of a magazine Susan had once seen. No wolves were howling tonight and the stillness was almost piercing. Suddenly, they could hear something from the fort, but it was not a sound of sadness or fear, but one of happiness. Susan, the guide and the children listened for a time until they could make out the sound they were hearing. It was singing, beautiful singing and the songs were one of a joyous occasion; they were Christmas carols! It was Christmas Eve! A rider approached from the fort, likely a man on guard that night watching for Indians. “Ho, who goes there?” “”We’re from Virginie, bringing in the wife of John Summers and children.” “John’s wife? “Yes sir.” “Oh my, Susan, I’m your sister’s husband whom you’ve never met.” “Welcome!” After telling Robert the story of their trip and the death of John, Robert led them to the safety of the fort. The gate swung open, and a door of one of the little cabins opened immediately. In the doorway were her sister’s children, all dressed for bed, all excited as to who their company was. They saw Susan and her children, Baby Jennifer in her arms, and ran out into the cold barefoot to hug her. The journey was over. In 1793, Susan became the bride of Mr. Rufus Good. Who was he? Well, he was the guide who led Susan and her family to Kentucky County which was now the Commonwealth of Kentucky. He had decided he liked Kentucky pretty well; the hunting was good, the ground was rich and Susan was a beautiful woman. They lived for a time in a cabin next to her brother-in-law and tended his children as well as hers until Joshua himself fell in love with one of the other ladies at the fort and she moved in with them. Susan and Rufus moved into a cabin outside the fort which Rufus built in his spare time. The Indian troubles were still going on but had calmed down and they were in close proximity to the fort for safety. As the years rolled by, Susan’s son William grew into manhood and became a State Senator and a noted lawyer. Mary grew into a beautiful young woman and became the wife of a doctor whom she helped many times as a midwife. Baby Jennifer; she became a Governor’s wife and moved to Frankfort. Rover enjoyed many more years running through the woods and sleeping by the fireplace at night. Susan lived until she was well into her 80’s, an old age for a woman in those times. She was loved by Rufus until her dying day. Oh, by the way. Rufus built a tiny cabinet for her with a glass front. Inside she placed one special thing that was buried with her – her Grannie’s silver spoon.

Rather than retype my christmas stories, I invite readers to visit my website and read, "Hughie's Dream", "The Christmas Play" and "Santa Had The Flu". Click on "Story Listings" on left of homepage.. Enjoy! http://hearlshill.freeservers.com/index.html G. Lee Hearl Authentic Appalachian Storyteller Abingdon, Va.