It's 1939, and the world is at the precipice of war. But life for one young man in rural America couldn't be better. Jonathon Blackwell is the eldest son of the most powerful family in town and heir to Blackwell Iron and Mining. Unlike many who s...
The sound of jingling bells mixed with Douglas's laughter in the frigid air, and Jonathon jogged faster, pulling the sled Douglas was riding in alongside Farmer Lindstrom's draft horse.
"I think he thinks you look like a horse!" Helen said, hurrying to keep close to the sled. "Does Daddy look funny?" she asked Douglas.
Jonathon exaggerated his steps to match the horse's gait, throwing up snow, and Douglas laughed even louder. He didn't care if old Mr. Lindstrom and James were watching. It was worth it so he could hear his son's belly laughs.
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He was glad he'd taken the day off work. Ever since he could remember, the family had paid the Lindstrom's to cut and deliver a Christmas tree to the house. But this year, Helen had suggested Douglas might enjoy going along so he could watch the big draft horse pull the tree home. It had turned out to be a lot more fun than Jonathon expected.
Mr. Lindstrom stopped the horse near the front steps of the house. James helped him untie the tree while Helen released the strap holding Douglas in his sled.
"Horse!" he said as she lifted him out.
"Do you want to pet the horse again?" she asked, but he was already reaching in its direction as she placed him on her hip.
"Pe' horse!" he demanded.
She brought him close to the horse's neck and pulled off his mittens. "He's soft, isn't he?" she asked while Douglas stroked the horse's dark fur.
"Sof'," Doulas repeated.
"Do you remember his name?"
Jonathon could see Douglas thinking as he patted the horse, and then he looked at his mother. "'Mokey."
"That's right, it's Smokey!" She smiled at Jonathon with pride. "I can't believe he remembered."
"He's always been a bright boy," Jonathon said, putting his hand on Douglas's head.
James and Mr. Lindstrom pulled the large fir tree upright, and Douglas turned to watch. "Twee!" he said, pointing for his mother to look while the two men shook the branches to knock snow off.
"They're getting it ready to take in the house," Helen said. "Do you remember what kind of tree it is?"
"Kiss-miss twee," Douglas said.
"Yes, a Christmas tree. What will we put under it?"
"Pwesents."
"Presents for who?"
Douglas grinned as he pointed at himself. "Me!"
"And who else?"
"Mommy."
"And..." Helen prompted.
"Daddy!"
"That's right, presents for mommy and daddy and Douglas."
