nodded her head. Chad turned to their guest.
“Please, come in and warm yourself.”
Gabriel set his large satchel and hat on the table and walked to the fire. He removed his gloves. “It feels good,” he said, holding out his hands for warmth. After a moment, he shed his coat as well. “I want to thank you both for your kindness tonight. I pray the Lord will bless you for it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chad responded. “Anyone would do no less for a Christian brother caught in a storm.”
“I would like to think so,” Gabriel answered.
“Can we offer you some boiled oats, sir?” Helen asked. “Or some water?”
“Thank you kindly, but I’ve food in my satchel. May I offer to share some with you though?”
Helen’s eyes bulged. She wondered what kind of food he had.
Gabriel opened the flap. He pulled out a sack. “Coffee, ma’am.” Chad and Helen both smiled. They’d not had coffee in months. He pulled out a second bag. “Beef jerky,” he told them. “There are some biscuits in here somewhere, too, but I’m afraid they’re frozen right now.”
“I can put them near the fire for you. I’ll start water for the coffee, too,” Helen offered. This man was heaven sent for certain. The children would all get a good meal in the morning. What a wonderful Christmas gift from above. God had heard her prayer!
“I’d be most obliged, ma’am.”
“We only have the two beds, Mister Davidson, but we can make you a nice pallet on the floor by the fire,” Chad told their guest.
“If it’s all the same to you, I can just put my coat on the floor in front of it. It’ll make a decent bed for me. I’ll be warm as a bear,” he said with a smile.
Chad and Helen both grinned. The bear fur coat surely must be warm. Helen thought of her own meager wool shawl.
“Mama, Papa?” a tiny voice called out.
Chad walked over to the bed. Little eight-year-old Naomi wiped her eyes. She looked about the room and stared at the stranger.
“Don’t fret, Naomi,” her father called out. “We’ve a guest tonight. Mister Davidson. He was caught in the storm and God led him here so we could give him shelter in our warm house.”
The little girl gave Gabriel a tiny smile. Then she looked at her mother. “I’m hungry, Mama.”
Helen bit her lip. She looked at the biscuits now sitting in a frying pan warming over embers. There were a dozen.
“Mister Davidson has brought us some jerked beef and some biscuits. How does that sound?” Chad asked.
Naomi nodded and crawled out of bed. Gabriel noticed the tattered state of her gown. It looked a size too small. His heart tugged inside his chest. This girl was close in age to his own granddaughter. “How old are you, young one?” he asked.
“Eight, sir.”
“I have a granddaughter who is nine. Her name is Betsy. I have two grandsons, too. They are fourteen and six,” he told her.
“I have two little brothers,” Naomi responded. “Michael is five, Johnathan is three.”
Gabriel smiled at her. “Those are very good names.”
Naomi looked hungrily at the biscuits, then at their guest. “Those sure do look good. We haven’t had biscuits in so long. We’ll have to eat ‘em plain though. We don’t have no jam or honey to put on them.”
Gabriel’s brows furrowed. He looked at the parents. Chad’s face was grim. Helen turned hers in shame. Gabriel began to wonder if God’s real reason for sending him here was not to save him from the storm, but to save this poor family from starvation. Psalm seventy-two came to his mind, verse twelve and thirteen, “For he shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor also, and him that hath no helper. He shall spare the poor and needy, and shall save the souls of the needy.”
“Well, you know what? I like my biscuits plain just fine. But tomorrow, when there’s light and it’s safe to go out to the barn, I’ll see if I have any jam or honey out there for you.”
Naomi’s face lit up.
“Whatcha doin’?” another little voice called from the bed. Michael and Johnathan were both sitting up.
“Want a biscuit?” Naomi asked them with a smile.
Both boys crawled out of bed. Their father introduced their guest again.
“Hello, boys,” Gabriel said to them.
Little Johnathan clung to his mother’s skirt as she prepared the coffee. “Are you Santa Claus?” Michael wondered out loud.
The adults chuckled. “No, son, but I know I look like him,” Gabriel answered, stroking his short gray beard. “And I do have a sleigh full of goods. But no, I’m not Santa Claus. I was sent by God.”
The boys’ eyes widened in awe. “Can I see the sleigh?” Michael asked.
“Yes, in the morning,” their guest answered.
Both boys grinned with excitement.
“But first young men, we must say grace, because I think the biscuits are ready,” Chad broke in. They all lowered their heads. “Blessed Lord, we thank you for leading Mister Davidson to our home. We thank you that we could shelter him and we thank you for his kindness in sharing his food. We ask for your blessings on this meal, Amen.”
“Amen,” the group echoed.
The beef jerky was passed out to everyone. Helen served water to the children, black coffee to the adults. The newly warmed biscuits were placed on the table for all to enjoy.
“We can have two each,” Naomi announced, proud of her math skills.
“We sure can,” Gabriel encouraged. “How did you get to be so smart?”
Naomi beamed. “Mama and Papa teach me when they have time.”
Gabriel looked to the parents, then back at Naomi. “You must be very pleased to have such a smart mama and papa.” The little girl nodded. “Tell me, do you ever go to school?”
Naomi shook her head. “No school to go to.”
“No school to go to, sir,” her father corrected.
“Sir,” she added.
“Our nearest neighbor is ten miles away by Hoyt along the Bijou Creek,” Chad explained. “The nearest school is even farther.”
“Well then, I see your problem. Coming from a busy city, it’s hard for me to imagine being so isolated,” their guest commented.
“Where is it you’re from?” Helen asked, her first biscuit already gone.
“Denver, Misses Jenkins. I own a store there.”
“My, what brings you out so far in winter?” she inquired.
Gabriel grimaced. “It’s a long story, but I guess we have all night.”
Chad rose to put more wood on the fire while their guest began his story.
“ ‘Bout ten days ago I received a letter from my grandson, Luke. He’s the fourteen-year-old. The letter was dated December first. He asked me to come for a visit this Christmastime. He told me how cold and hungry they all were and that his mother, who’s my daughter, was too ashamed to write to me for help. You see, she married without my consent to an unbeliever. She’s been vexed ever since with his drinking, swearing and occasional gambling. He can’t seem to settle in one spot and stay there long enough to make ends meet. The children have suffered so, it breaks a grandfather’s heart. I’ve done what I could over the years, when I knew where they were.