Five Golden Rings

Curtains of pastel lights, with its flood of green and blue, and a dash of pink, dance over an old log cabin that lies in the shadow of the north pole. This cabin is nestled next to a creek in a remote valley in the Brooks Range. The old prospector has worked this creek since the early nineteen hundreds after the Klondike gold rush petered out. It is Christmas Eve, the sun has been down for over a month, and it won’t be back up for another five weeks. The temperature hasn’t been above forty-below for quite a spell now, but inside, it is snug and warm, and it is noisy with three visiting grandchildren.

           “Grandfather, wake up,” cried Samantha as she shook the old man. She was the oldest and ten years of age. She had two younger brothers. Robert was eight and Ulysses was five. Grandpa called them, Sam, Robbie, and Useless.

The old codger was snoring up a storm. The warm fire and the hot meal of moose steak and potatoes made him find his favorite chair, lean back in it, and rest his eyes for a minute, which was now forty-five of them ago.

           “Grandpa, you promised us a story.” Sam shook the old man until she could see his blue eyes smile at her.

           “Aye lass, that I did.” He then leaned forward on his easy chair and stroked his long gray beard.  Three pairs of bright young eyes were gathered around him. “First I need to be tend-en this fire.” He groaned to his feet and went to a small stack of firewood. He took his time studying the spruce logs.

           “Aye, this one will do nicely.” He then gently placed it on the fire. “Here,” he handed Sam the metal fire-poker. “You nestle that log in proper while I get me some coffee.”

           “Okay, grandpa,” she beamed, proudly.

           The grandfather unpegged a large mug from the log cabin wall and blew the dust out of it. From the iron cookstove, he took the old dented coffee pot and filled the cup half full. He left room for a little sweetener. He then retrieved a bottle of good Irish whisky and topped off the cup. He sipped it and nodded, and then he slipped back in his easy chair.

           “Now where was I, lass?”

           Robbie was the first to reply. “Tell us about the fight you got into in Skagway, grandpa.”

           Sam shook her long curly hair and countered, “How about the time when you were bathing in the Yukon River and then that bear came by, and you had to run back to your cabin, naked.” She giggled.”

           The grandfather chuckled and leaned back on the old worn-out chair. He stroked his beard and his sparkling blue eyes, danced in thought; and then he looked at the youngest grandson. He was the one named after him.

           “Useless, me boy, what story would like to hear on this fine Christmas Eve?”

           The boy jumped to his excited feet and didn’t know what to say. This was the first time anyone asked his thought on…anything. “How about a Christmas story, grandpa?” and then he stroked his chin in anticipation, as did his grandfather.

           “Well lad, 'ave I ever told about the time I proposed to yer grandmother?”

           Three heads rattled left and right.

           “Good. It happened on a Christmas Eve, it did.” Old Ulysses leaned forward and took a long drink of Irish-coffee and grinned big.

Grandfather Ulysses had the very, very important job of watching over his grandchildren while his daughter and the grandmother were busy in the Fairbanks’ Hospital’s maternity ward. Mom and husband were both busy holding a hand that squeezed like a vice at each contraction. “It won’t be long now, honey,” consoled the old mother to the new mother as she gave her a comforting smile.

“Where was I lad?” Grandfather set down his toddy and leaned back and got comfortable. He had all night and never insisted on a bed-time.

           “You are in Skagway, grandfather!” Sam reminded him.

           “Aye lass. At the time I arrived, the town, she be dwindled to just a few businesses. The days of the Klondike gold rush were over, and that scallywag, Soapy Smith, he was long dead. But the Soapy Smith Saloon was alive and doing well.

           “I moseyed on in to ask directions to the gold-fields. I had no idea that they were still over a thousand miles north of here, as the raven flies.” The grandfather chuckled at his ignorance. He would travel twice that far as the prospector, prospects.

           “And there she was; the prettiest dang thing this side of heaven. She was tend-en bar and her face glowed as she smiled at her customers, and she moved with the grace of an angel. I fell in love. I never really believed in love-at-first-sight, until that very moment.” He then paused to poke at the fire.

           “Was that grandma?”

           “Aye, she was a looker.” He then propped the poker on the small table beside him. “I bellied up to the bar; cause back in those days, they had no bar stools.” He chucked in remembrance.

           “When she saw me, she smiled and then came up and wiped the spilt beer in front of me. I gave her my best smile.

“‘What you have, cowboy?’ she asked me. Well, then I inflated my chest and said, ‘beer, pretty lady.’ And she said, ‘would you like anything to go with it?’ She was referring to a shot glass of whiskey. I couldn’t help myself. “Why yes, mam, I would like your hand in marriage.’”

           “Oh grandfather,” Sam shook her pretty little head. “That was not very romantic.”

           “Just how old are you, child?”

           “Almost eleven, grandpa.”

           “Ain’t you a bit young ta be thinking about romance?” The grandfather then looked at the boys. “What do you lads think?”

           “That was cool grandpa,” replied Robbie, and his brother nodded with a grin.

           Sam rolled her blue eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Well, what did grandma say, exactly?”

The grandfather sighed. “She done turned me down.”

           “And exactly what were her words?” Her hands were still on her hips and a smug smile on her lips.

           “If you must know,” the grandfather lowered his head and mumbled, she said, ‘Not in a million years.’ I thought it a bit harsh. But she did give me a shot of good whisky to go with my beer.”

           Little Useless gasped and then teared up. “You never got to marry grandma? Does she know?”

           “There, there, lad,” the grandfather then put the small boy on his lap. “At times like these, a small shot of whisky seems to help. Would ya like a one?”

           “Grandpa,” shouted Robbie.

           “Grandpa,” screamed Sam. “You can’t give my brother whisky!”

           Even Useless’s eyes widened as he vigorously shook his head no.

           “I guess you’re right. Your mom would skin me and then your grandma would cook me and feed me to the crows.”

           Useless laughed.

           The grandfather continued his story. “The next day, it was Christmas and a prospector came into town with a pouch full of nuggets. He found gold in a small creek near the small village of Juneau. I got the fever bad and scampered north, along with half the town of Skagway.

           “I staked a claim on a steep hillside that had a small stream of cold water run-en down it. I must have shoveled a hundred tons of dirt in my sluice that summer. The nuggets were scarce but I did get a couple, sizable pouches of fine gold before winter froze everything, and shut me down.”

           “Were you rich, grandpa?” Robbie asked.

           “Sam had other concerns. “Did you go back to Skagway and propose properly?”

           The grandfather sat Useless between his siblings and added another log to the fire. “Patience, lass.”

           He then sat back down. “The trip back to town was slow and cold, and wouldn’t you know it, I arrived back at the Soapy Smith Saloon’s door on Christmas Eve, again. I had the gold in the pockets of my mackinaw and a confident smile on my face.

           “I slipped through the door and was instantly blinded. The town had gotten electricity and it seemed that most of it flowed into the saloon. I squinted and focused on the bar, but there was another woman behind it. She was pretty, but not my true love. My heart dropped to my knees. I was too late.”

           “Oh no, grandpa, oh no,” cried the boys.

           Sam scoffed, “Liar.”

           The grandfather chuckled. “You’re start-en ta remind me of your grandma.”

           He went on. “Suddenly I heard a lark in song. It was the most beautiful noise that I have ever heard. And there she was, even prettier than before; and she was on stage singing.”

           The old man paused his story, the anticipation always made it better. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, and then even it paused.

           The grandchildren were about to burst.

           He continued, “When she finished her song, I laid every last nugget that I worked all year long on, at her feet. She stooped down and looked me in the eye, and recognized me. She gave me a big smile and said, ‘Never in a thousand years!’”

           “Oh no, grandfather,” said three small voices.

           “But my heart flooded in my chest. She had made it 999,000 fewer years. I knew she loved me. Ha!”

           “Then what happened?”

           “I went to see her with an arm-load of gifts on Christmas morning, but she was gone. She left on a boat. Some say she went back to her family in Oregon and others said Nome. Seems gold was sprouting up on the beach there. But, I did find her a year later where I least expected it.”

           “Where did you find her?” Sam sounded impatient.

           The grandfather climbed to his feet. “We need more firewood to last through the night.

           You two, put on your parkas; and Useless, I need you to guard the cabin while we are gone. He handed the boy a 22 rifle, it was unloaded, but it gave the boy a very important job and pride.

           Even though the sun would not be up for five more weeks, the moon still came up and went down, every day. This Christmas eve it was full, and in this white frozen world, it lit up the Brooks Range, far and wide. One could see for miles. As they made their way to the woodpile, not a creature was stirring, and the only sound was the crunching snow under their feet. And then a lone wolf howled at the moon as if saying, Merry Christmas. With arms full of split-spruce, they hurried back to the warmth of the cabin, and the rest of the story.

“Where did you find grandma, grandpa?”

           The grandfather stroked his bushy beard and took a deep breath. “I followed the herd of prospectors north to Nome. We all set up our sluices right on the beach. We shoveled sand in then and then poured buckets of water on the riffles to wash off the light sand and to catch the heavy gold. All-day long the tide chased us up and down the beach. It was little pay for large effort. When fall came I bought seven good dogs and a sled, and then I headed for the frozen Yukon River. I was above the Arctic Circle and winter there comes fast and furious. I was headed to Fairbanks and to the newly discovered gold, just north of there.

           “You had seven dogs! Cool.” Useless was excited. “What were their Names?”

           “Quiet, Useless!” Sam was impatient. “And then what happened?”

           “Well, ole Mother Nature was about to play a trick on me. When I reached the Yukon, a blizzard with strong cold winds and thick snow joined me. I gave the lead dog his head and we blindly mushed up the river. The dog could feel the river under us and all I could feel was cold.”

           The grandfather shivered and threw another log on the fire. “I knew I had to stop and build a fire or find a roadhouse. In these parts, roadhouses are very scarce and I waited too long. My fingers were stiff and almost frozen. So, on we mushed. And so did the storm.”

           The grandfather paused again and his audience waited in baited anticipation for his next word. “Do you kids want a candy cane?”

           “No,” they shouted as one.

           “Shall I continue?”

           “Yessss,” they loudly yesed.

           “I hunkered down on my sled and shivered like I was crapping…jellybeans.”

           The boy’s giggled and Sam just rolled her eyes.

           “After that I became a might foggy. The dogs somehow found the little town of St. Mary’s on the Yukon. The Christian church had a crude hospital there, and there was a post office, and a large meeting hall. In the back of the meeting hall, they served spirits and cards. The rest of the town consisted of a slew of Eskimos shacks and their countless, noisy dogs.

           “My dogs stopped in front of the medical building and began wailing. A couple of nuns, with parkas over their long black dresses found me and drug me inside and that was the last thing I remembered. It took a month to nurse me back to health. I done lost a couple a toes, but I were none the worst for the wear.”

           “So, where was grandma?” questioned Sam.

           Grandpa scoffed at his impatient granddaughter. “She was one of the nuns.”

           “What!”

           “Just kid-en. Patience child. Now where was I?”

           “In the hospital.”

           “That was the year Christmas Eve happened to be on a Sunday, and as a good guest, I accompanied my two nurse-nuns to mass. We had grown close over the last month and I was able to buy a couple bottles of good Irish spirits that I would share with them between dinner and evening vespers. As I followed them into the church, I could hear the choir as it sang Silent Night. And what to my wondering ears should I hear? It was my true love’s angelic voice. Louder than a church mouse, I scurried up to the choir loft. When she saw me, she gasped. She had no place to run and then she recognized me. She exhaled a heavy sigh as I walked up and knelt down in front of her.”

           “Did she say yes, this time?”

           “Sadly no.”

           “Oh grandpa, what did you do?”

           “I cried.”

           “Really?” said the two boys. “Naw, I was kidding. Men don’t cry. But… she did tell me she was going to Fairbanks in the spring and would be there until Christmas.

“So, what happened in Fairbanks?” asked Sam. “Were you romantic?”

           “Quite so, young lady and, I was nauseously nice. I even shined my mukluks. I had a gold ring that I had made from nuggets that I had panned myself. It was a humdinger.”

           “So she finally agreed, right?”

           The grandfather put a frown on his face and shook his head. “It was Christmas Eve and everything was perfect, but when I showed her the ring she said. no. ‘No, I don’t want your ring. I wouldn’t take five golden rings from you. What I want is a snug home somewhere safe. I want children. I want a husband that will come home every night. That is all I want.’

           “Well, says I, I can do that.

           “‘Well,’ says she, ‘then, will you marry me, and stay with me?’

           “I said, ‘yes, and for a million years.’”

           The grandfather’s story was interrupted by a squalling sound from a tube radio. “Hello out there. This is bush radio. This is your link to outside news, and to the current events of today.

           ‘Today’s top story, on this Christmas Eve, is that there was another important child born here in the Fairbanks’ hospital. I am here to inform Samantha, and Robert, and Ulysses, that you now have a …”

           The clever Northern Lights with its magnetic winds blew the signal quiet. Things were about to happen, things both evil and good, things…

Ah, but that is another story for the grandfather to tell around his warm fire in the family’s snug little cabin. It is the one with curtains of pastel lights, with its flood of green and blue, and a dash of pink, that dance over it.

Stay tuned.