The Reindeer Keeper - Barbara Briggs Ward (books to read to increase intelligence TXT) 📗

Excerpt

 

 

Excerpt from ‘The Reindeer Keeper’

Barbara Briggs Ward

 

 

  Abbey senses something special about the little man tending to the reindeer who, along with a century-old farmhouse, a barn full of animals, and fields abounding in woods and pasture, was a gift to Abbey from a stranger. Abbey and her husband, Steve, move in just before the holidays. They have been together since the ‘60’s, eloping when Steve returned from Vietnam. Now with Abbey’s cancer in remission, they’re looking forward to their boys coming home for Christmas.

 

Turns out this Christmas proves to be more magical than anticipated as Abbey realizes an understanding never thought possible through the rekindling of a belief rooted in childhood. It’s who delivers this gift on Christmas Eve that gives Abbey and Steve the strength to face their greatest challenge.

 

 

Besides the woods, the barn set far back in an open field was the other place Steve and Abbey hadn’t explored. With work and settling in, they hadn’t found the time. But that didn’t mean they weren’t curious. A clause in the old man’s will specifically dealt with the imposing structure-home to a few sheep, about eight horses, and a herd of reindeer. Details stated the barn was not to be disturbed. It was to be kept in proper repair and the animals were to be allowed to “live, graze, and flourish without interruption in a routine established long before time.” A caretaker had been appointed and he was “dutifully aware of his responsibilities-those that were obvious and those that were not.” A trust fund for carrying out such terms was in the hands of a lawyer.

 

Abbey hadn’t thought about what all that meant. She assumed the old man’s reclusive lifestyle had a lot to do with it. He’d obviously bonded with the animals and probably thought of them as his family. When one dies it’s natural to have everything in place for those left behind. Abbey had seen that over and over at her father’s funeral home. Now with an oversized tree needing to be felled and brought inside, it was time to meet the caretaker.

 

It was still snowing a smidgen as Abbey headed out to the barn. The walk was invigorating. She hadn’t realized how far it was from the house. Now up close, she got a better sense of the barn’s massive size. The Green Mountains and quaint homesteads with picket fences far off in the distance provided the perfect backdrop. Peering inside, she didn’t see the man she’d only noticed from afar. Abbey knew he was around somewhere. His truck was parked in the same spot it was every morning.

 

“Hello? Hello? It’s the lady from the farmhouse. Hello?”

 

Once inside, Abbey slid the door shut and looked around. She wished Steve was with her. He would have loved the wood and architecture. Haylofts were brimming. A movement of sorts guided Abbey to another door. This one was slightly ajar. Peeking through the crack, Abbey was delighted by sheep scurrying after a cat that seemed to have the upper hand.

 

“They do this every morning. It’s a game they play before they’re fed. I was hoping you’d stop in.”

 

“I’m Abbey.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You know?”

 

“I read the will.”

 

“I still don’t understand why my father and I were chosen.”

 

“In due time.”

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

“I’ve been caring for the animals for as far back as I can remember. Would you like me to show you around?”

 

“Yes. I’d enjoy that.”

 

“My name is Thomas. Excuse the mess. It’s a busy place this time of year.”

 

Whatever it was about this man, Abbey couldn’t put her finger on it. She couldn’t understand much of what he said. He was shorter than he looked when driving in and out. He had to be up there-older than Steve who was two years older than Abbey. His little, beady eyes gave him a serious look as he worked about the animals. He seemed to have a way with them.

 

 The cat followed Thomas as he led Abbey into a granary where sacks upon sacks were stored. Bins were loaded.

 

“You must go through a lot of hay over the winter?”

 

“Yes, Miss Abbey. Oats, too.”

 

Opening another door, Thomas waited for Abbey to go first. She counted at least six of the eight horses in stalls.

 

“The others are outside,” he explained, guiding Abbey past a beautiful pinto and through yet another door which led them out behind the barn, hidden from view of the farmhouse and passersby.

 

“Breathtaking,” remarked Abbey. “I’ve kept my eye out for them. How many?”

 

“This herd. About twenty.”

 

“There are more?”

 

“Most certainly. There has to be.”

 

The only reindeer Abbey had ever seen were from a distance. It was mid-August. They’d taken the boys to a family attraction in the mountains. Because of the humidity, the few reindeer present were hiding under any shade they could find.

 

 

“They’ve just been fed, Miss Abbey. They might get a little frisky.” Thomas walked over to a smaller one standing off from the rest.

 

“Come over and meet the runt.”

 

“They’re antlers are amazing,” she noted.

 

“They have to be,” was his reply.

 

Staying by the little reindeer, Abbey soon found herself surrounded by the entire herd. They weren’t shoving. They seemed content.

 

“Reindeer can size a person up pretty quick. Looks like they sense your gentle spirit.”

 

Lingering awhile longer, Thomas explained. “I must excuse myself. I have to get back to work. There’s much to do these last few days.”

 

That reminded Abbey to ask Thomas if he’d give Steve a hand with the tree.

 

“I saw the red ribbon in the woods. I’ll come a little earlier in the morning. Have your husband meet me here.”

 

Thomas took Abbey back to where she came in.

 

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” said Abbey. “I know you’re busy. I have a long list today, too.”

 

“Stop in anytime.” Thomas went back inside. He mumbled something about a list, but she didn’t catch it.

 

Abbey felt like a child trudging through the snow. Her footsteps from earlier had disappeared. The thought of finding the boys’ ice skates and shoveling off the pond reminded Abbey how Sammy used to love skating on the creek behind her grandfather’s place. Steve thought their youngest had the stuff to go pro but Sammy just wanted to have fun. Curiosity defined him even as a child. Such a rigorous structure would have been Eric’s thing. Too bad he never took to sports. If Steve had his way, both boys would have played on some sort of team straight through high school as he had done.

 

Past Christmases flashed through Abbey’s mind as a cluster of chirping birds disappeared into a cedar hedge. From big wheels to BB guns, Christmas seemed to mark the boys’ path to maturity. The farther along they went, the more the wonder faded.

 

“Can’t go back. It’s what happens,” Abbey told herself. She picked up speed as the thought of a cup of coffee pushed her through the mounting drifts.

 

 

 

 

Abbey couldn’t believe how fast the time was flying. The next day became a blur of baking, wrapping gifts, and running to the store more than once. By the time Steve returned, he could tell she had reached her limit.

 

“Let’s go into town for dinner,” he suggested.

 

She didn’t think she was that hungry until he mentioned their favorite restaurant-the sort of place where one could dress leisurely and still enjoy a fine entrée with a glass of wine. Before leaving, they decided to get the tree lights out and test them. Opening the box, Abbey found the boys’ Christmas stockings lying on top.

 

“I can still see you sitting by the window, knitting late into the evening-in a hurry to have the stockings ready for Santa. Why is it, Abbey, that when your kids are young, you think they will be young forever?”

 

“I think it’s because you’re so busy you don’t notice the clock ticking. We were raising the boys and growing the lumberyard at the same time. I still wonder if I should have been home more.”

 

“We did our best. There is not a book written that can tell you how to raise a child.”

 

“True. Many of the so-called experts have no children themselves.” Abbey remembered what she wanted to ask.

 

“What time is Thomas coming in the morning?”

 

“Seven. But something tells me it could be earlier. He was waiting for me today; told me he’d been at the barn before six.”

 

Shaking his head, Steve continued. “I thought I might lose him in a snow pile, but he forged right through. We had the tree up the back steps and on the side porch in stride. He’s sort of an odd character. He left in a hurry, saying he had duties that needed tending.”

 

“There is something curious about him.”

 

“You were right about that barn. It is amazing, not your ordinary barn.”

 

“It’s definitely one of a kind.” Abbey put the stockings on the back of a chair while they moved some furniture to make way for the tree. “Think we’ll have enough lights, honey?” she asked.

 

“I’ll string the tree in the morning. If we need more strands, I can bring them back with me. Don’t worry. The tree will be decorated by the time they get here. We still have a day to get things ready.”

 

“I hope Sam’s flight is on time. I haven’t heard the forecast for the 23rd.”

 

“I checked earlier. Clear through the twenty-eighth.”

 

“Eric said if they can get in and out of LaGuardia without a hitch, they should be home around dinnertime.”

 

Abbey was glad the boys would be arriving before Christmas Eve. That day would be hectic enough. After rearranging furniture and testing lights, the two went to dinner. They sat and talked until after ten.

 

 

 

Barbara Briggs Ward grew up in the country surrounded by relatives and a backdrop of fields, pastures, a creek, old barn, and an abandoned chicken coop turned into a clubhouse which all played a part in stimulating Barbara’s imagination and planting the seed to become a writer. That seed has never gone away.

 

To learn more please visit: barbarabriggsward.com

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Publication Date: 10-15-2013

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