A CHRISTMAS FABLE

A CHRISTMAS BABLE

The other day, Grandpa and I were down on the F Bar range near the 10-mile cedars putting out some molasses blocks for the cows when we caught a glimpse of something through the trees.

"Look, it's a deer," Grandpa said.

And it was a deer, but certainly the strangest one that either of us had ever seen in the Snowflake area. It was stronger and stockier than an ordinary deer and had a huge rack of antlers. Through its heavy coat of brown hair you could see the creature's ribs sticking out. It had to be awfully hungry.

When Grandpa wheeled the pickup around a cedar tree, we expected the deer to run away, but it stayed right where it was, just looking at us.

Well, we stopped the truck and just sat there watching the creature, mighty surprised that it didn't run off, when all of a sudden another deer walked up, almost a perfect match of the first one. They were a pretty sight.

Grandpa and I continued to sit quietly, and soon another deer came out of the trees, then another, and still another until eight of them stood in the clearing in front of the truck.

We were pretty excited, but we didn't dare get out of the truck for fear of scaring the deer away. They seemed to be watching us to see what we would do. But as we sat real still, they lost interest in us and went back to grazing.

Grandpa slid his hand down behind the seat where he had his lariat and ever so slowly brought it up beside us and made a loop in it. Then he quietly rolled down his window. We watched as the deer came closer and closer, munching the good Arizona galleta and black gramma grass. So busy were they eating, they didn't realize how close they were to the pickup.

All of a sudden, Grandpa threw his lariat, and I'll be darned if it didn't fall right over the rack of the nearest deer. Quick as a jackrabbit, Grandpa jumped out of the truck and snubbed that rope around the door. We had ourselves a deer.

Well that animal let out a squeal, and the other deer jumped and ran. There was a lot of snorting and stomping and another sound the sound of bells jingling. As soon as our deer quieted and it did after a minute it stood as nice as you please. It was then we noticed the collar around its neck... a red collar circled with tiny bells. And carved into the fine leather was a single word: "DANCER."

Grandpa began to holler, "Well, I'll be darned, we caught ourselves a reindeer. One of Santa's reindeer!"

It sure looked as though we had. It was a beautiful animal with a shiny coat and big brown eyes, but looked pretty thin. As we walked around it, we got more and more excited, and I got more and more perplexed.

I said to Grandpa, "Now, why is this reindeer here

CHRISTMAS

Children are the true connoisseurs. What's precious to them has no price, only value. - Bel Kaufman And where have the others gone and what are we going to do now?"

Grandpa scratched his head and rubbed his chin. Finally he said, "Have you noticed how its ribs are sticking out? My guess is that feed at the North Pole is scarce this year, and Santa has brought his herd down here on the F Bar where he can fatten them up before their big trip on Christmas Eve.

"Somebody's got to be looking after them," he added. "And when they come up one short, pretty soon they'll come looking for ol' Dancer here. I say we sit here and wait."

I couldn't think of a better plan, but I tell you, kids, I was more than a little worried about having one of Santa's reindeer on the end of a rope.

Grandpa got a molasses block out of the back of the pickup and put it down in front of Dancer, who began to lick it as though it had never had anything so good in its life.

Meanwhile, Grandpa and I got back into the truck and just sat there, shivering with excitement as we settled down to wait. After a while, it got awfully quiet with just an occasional crow cawing and the sound of the reindeer licking that block and softly snorting and stamping its feet every few minutes.

It was almost dark and getting colder as a full moon rose in the east, huge and silvery. I heard coy-notes barking somewhere off toward the four-mile knoll, and then I heard your grandpa snoring softly.

That's the last thing I remember until something woke me. It was the sound of jingling sleigh bells way off in the distance, gradually getting closer. I jabbed Grandpa in the ribs, and he grumbled and sighed before he opened his eyes and looked at me. "Do you hear that?" I whispered.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Do you hear those bells?"

By now anyone could hear them, even Grandpa, who usually has a hard time hearing high-pitched sounds. It was a shivery, shimmery sound. A sound that made goose bumps rise up on your arms and your heart thump in your chest and little bubbles of excitement rise up in your veins like the fizz on the top of a glass of root beer.

"What is it?" I asked, looking at Grandpa. In answer, he pointed out the window of the pickup at the figure of a man just inside the shadow on the edge of the clearing. I couldn't see very well, but there was no doubt someone was standing there takAs we stared trying to make out who it was, the figure stepped into the moonlight and stood there with his hands on his hips, his feet spread wide apart. I was surprised how much he was built like your grandpa.

The moon glinted off the white of his beard, and his red coat was almost purple in the frosty blue light of the winter sky.

FABLE

He stood in the moonlight and laughed and laughed, slapping his leg as he shook all over. And we heard him say, "Well, you got me. I should've known better than to tangle with an Arizona cowboy."

His laugh gave us a little courage, so Grandpa opened the pickup's door and got out. I slipped out right behind him and stood holding onto your grandpa's arm while I peeked out around him.

The big man took a step back and raised his hand as we approached. It meant, we knew, that we weren't to come any closer. So for a moment we just "I guess," said Grandpa, "that we have plenty of feed to help out a neighbor in short supply. Your herd is welcome here for as long as you need it."

Santa nodded, saying, "It will just be until the 24th, then we'll be on our way. What do I owe you?"

Grandpa looked real thoughtful at that, rubbed the toe of his boot in the dirt a minute, then looked up at the old gentleman.

"Well, I can't say we have need of much, but I have some grandkids scattered around the country that sure hope you will remember them each year. Their names are . . ."

And Grandpa started to name each one of you, but before he got very far, Santa hooked his thumbs into his big black belt, threw back his head again, and laughed, saying, "No need to tell me who they are, I know every child by heart. You have my promise. They'll be remembered."

With that he nodded and laughed once more. Grandpa loosened the rope from around Dancer's antler, and the bells on its collar jingled as it moved toward Santa Claus.

Then Grandpa and I turned and untied the rope from the pickup door. When we looked back, they both were gone. There was only the moonlight still shining on the grass in the red Arizona soil and the dark of the cedar trees that ringed the little clearing. We could smell their sharp Christmasy scent as if something had brushed against them.

We drove home and didn't say much. But the next morning, I noticed Grandpa loading up a little extra molasses block and heading down toward the 10-mile cedars. Stood there looking at each other across the clearing.

Then Santa said, "Well, what are your terms? I'm in the market for a grazing lease. As you can tell, I'm in need of a little pasture for this herd of mine."

Grandpa looked at Santa and then at the reindeer tied to the pickup. The critter had eaten quite a bit of the block we had put out, evidence that it had been on short provisions.

Nerita Flake grew up in Michigan but has lived in Snowflake for 35 years. William Jordan Flake, a great-grandfather of her husband, Dean, was one of the founders of the mountain town on the bigh plateau of northeastern Arizona.

Phoenix-based Liz Kenyon loves the kind of old-fashioned Christmases celebrated by her family while she was growing up in California.