a Sweetwater Saga short story
There is a reference to another KC and Grumps story regarding Leprechauns…
It isn't necessary to have read that story but it is highly recommended. <BG>
Copyrighted 2015
Peering through the sitting room window, KC Branson stood with her hands and nose pressed against the cold glass. Outside, her mothers and brother, bundled in warm blankets, were seated on the buckboard's wide bench as Boy, their robust work horse, plodded through mud puddles in the yard. Sniffling, KC watched her family pass through the ranch yard's gate heading for town. Due to the cold, wintry weather and having been suffering with a runny nose the past few days, KC had been left behind to stay in the warm house with her grandfather.
Sitting near the fireplace in the corner of the room, Stanley Branson watched his unhappy granddaughter as he sipped hot coffee from a cup. “Sounds like ya nose mite need sum wipin',” he observed.
“I's okay,” KC replied, her eyes glued on the buckboard as it was slowly pulled up the hillock behind the gate. She continued her vigil until her family disappeared over the crest of the hill then she turned around. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she gazed forlornly at her grandfather. “They's gone,” she said sadly.
Setting his coffee cup on the small table beside his chair, Stanley shifted to remove a piece of cloth from his back pocket. “Git on over here, young ‘un,” he said shaking out the kerchief's folds.
Slowly, KC trudged across the room to stand dejectedly in front of her grandfather.
Bending forward, Stanley gently slipped his large hands around the child's waist and lifted her off the floor. Once KC was settled in his lap, he handed her his kerchief.
KC blew into the cloth several times then tried to hand the kerchief back.
“I think it best ya keep hold a' that,” Stanley told her as he retrieved his cup. “Ya most likely goin' ta need it ag'in.”
“Thanks,” KC muttered clutching the kerchief in her hand and leaning back against her grandfather's chest. “Grumps, tell me a story.”
“Don't know any,” Stanley huffed.
“Grumps, everybody knows stories.”
“Well, I don't.”
Disappointed, KC looked across the room and out through the frosty windows. “It's snowing,” she stated squirming into a more comfortable position.
“Ain't ya glad ya got ta stay home now?”
KC watched the gently floating flakes grow larger and more numerous. “Grumps, where's snow come from?” she asked curiously.
“Elves,” Stanley said without thinking.
Sitting upright, KC twisted around to face her grandfather with a puzzled look. “Elves? What's elves?”
Realizing his frivolous response was about to cause him big trouble, Stanley could have bit his tongue. To gain time to think, he slowly drank the cooled coffee remaining in his cup. Offering up a silent wish that he would have enough imagination to finish what he had just started, he quickly organized his thoughts. “Ain't ya never heard of elves?” he asked in mock surprise.
KC shook her head. “Nope. Is they like lipeecons?”
Stanley had to think for a minute. “Oh, ya mean the leprechauns.”
KC nodded.
“Nope. Elves are different than leprechauns… they're littler. Why they's no bigger than Charley,” he said of KC's younger brother. “And they got pointy ears. And they wear tiny little green pants with pointy shoes and a pointy hat… and bright red coats.”
“Are you sure, Grumps?” KC asked reaching up to feel her own ears.
“'Course I'm sure.”
“Humpft,” KC grunted skeptically. “Where they live?”
“Um… way yonder up north.”
“Where's that?”
Stanley frowned. “Ya jus' full ‘a questions, ain't ya?”
“Yep.”
Resigned to the knowledge that his attempt to save face would not go uninterrupted by the inquisitive child, Stanley pressed on. “North is… ya know tha' mountain ‘cross the valley ya is always lookin' at… the one tha' always got snow on it?”
KC visualized the peak in question then nodded. “Yep.”
“Well, north is at the tippy top of tha' there mountain.”
“Is that where the elves live?”
“It surely is. Ya can't see ‘em from here but they's at the very top of tha' mountain.”
“Have you seen ‘em?”
“Well… not with my own eyes. But I knows they're there.”
“How?”
“Cuz a long time ago, someone told me they saw ‘em,” Stanley snapped. “Now do ya want ta hear about them elves and how they make it snow, or not?”
“I do,” KC told her grandfather cuddling against him then wiping her nose.
“Well, them elves work a lot. And they work outside.”
“What they do?”
Sighing, Stanley paused to ponder what anyone could do at the top of a snow-covered mountain. “They collect pine cones,” he finally declared, proud he had thought of a logical answer.
“What for?”
“'Cuz pine cones have nuts inside ‘em and tha's what elves eat.”
“Like squirrels?” KC asked remembering a time she watched one of the furry animals gathering the cones scattered around the ranch yard.
“Yep… jus' like squirrels. And since they live way up in the mountains,” Stanley quickly continued trying to ignore the doubtful expression on KC's face, “it snows a lot and them elves git covered in snow. And when the snow gits so heavy they can't move, they all line up on the edge of tha' mountain and they shake and shake and shake until all the snow gits knocked off their coats.” The words tumbled out of Stanley's mouth as he rushed to end his unplanned story.
“They do?”
“Yep. And ya know what happens ta all tha' snow?”
KC shook her head.
“Why it falls down and down and down until it reaches us.”
KC jumped out of her grandfather's lap and ran to the window. “Is that elf snow?” she asked pointing outside.
“It sure is.”
KC peered through the glass for several minutes before spinning about to run across the room to her grandfather. “Know what, Grumps?” she asked climbing into his lap.
“What?” Stanley asked warily.
Yawning, KC snuggled into her grandfather's strong arms. “You tell good stories,” she said sleepily, her eyes closing.
Believing his granddaughter had not taken his story seriously, Stanley started to relax reckoning she would soon forgot all about the elves.
KC's eyes popped open. “You take me to see the elves… okay?” she said excitedly then snuggled back down and closed her eyes. “We'll take Charley, too.”
Stanley reached behind him for the quilt folded over the back of the chair. “Sure, young ‘un,” he whispered tucking the quilt around his sleepy granddaughter. “Someday, we'll go see ‘em.” As KC drifted off into sleep, Stanley gazed out the windows at the falling snow. After several minutes, he started to chuckle. “Dangummit, I do believe I need ta stop tellin' this young ‘un stories,” he murmured with a grin.
May your days be filled with elves shaking snow down on you and yours.
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