The Reunion

It was mid-December. Christmas season! The winter air was bitter and the new fallen snow was crisp under the young mans feet as he walked along the forest trail. The trail took the young man to the edge of a snowy field where several cows were standing under a large oak tree. They paid little attention to the stranger who sat himself down on a nearby boulder.

He dropped his pack and laid his rifle next to him. It felt good to get the weight off.

Across the field stood a small, well kept cabin, a large barn and a corral which held two horses. One of them nickered as it looked in his direction. “Good ol’ Sal, I figured you’d be dead and gone by now,” he thought.

It was late morning. The day was turning sunny after an early morning snow. A light wisp of smoke wound its way out of the cabin’s chimney. Next to the barn a man could be seen chopping wood. The man had been lost in his own thoughts as he worked. The sound of the nickering horse put him on alert.

~~~

The young man’s name was Russell. The ranch he was watching was his home. The man was his father, Thomas. Russell had left four years earlier at the age of sixteen. His father had wanted him to stick around and help out with running the ranch.

Russell wasn't interested. He wanted to see what lay beyond the bull shit and barbed wire. His father had a hired man to help out. Russell knew things would be just fine without him. So against his fathers wishes, he left.

His mother took it hard. Even though he didn’t show it, his father took it harder.

Russell headed East toward the Carolina’s with no real plan in mind. This was an adventure. As far as he was concerned adventures unfolded on their own. They didn't require plans. He kept copious notes of his wanderings as he felt compelled to document all things new and unusual he experienced along his journey.

Russell's talent for writing eventually landed him a newspaper job in a small but growing town. The paper paid a decent wage as he continued to hone his talent.

Russell loved the newspaper business. Writing was indeed his life's calling. Even so, after years of being away, home was beginning to tug at his heart. It was persistent and each day it grew a little stronger. He knew some day the tug would win out and he would have to leave. The question was when?

He took his leave from the paper in the early part of December.

He boarded a train to a town near the ranch and then walked the last ten miles. Those miles were easier than the final two hundred yards he still needed to go. As he sat on his rock wondering if he would be welcomed back, the sound of wood being chopped came to a stop. He was now the one being watched.

~~~

Thomas paid heed to the horses uneasiness and incessant nickering. He scouted the landscape in the direction of their gaze where he caught the image of a man sitting on the far side of the field. He walked into the house.

“Stay inside until I get back,” he ordered his wife, Rebecca.

“What’s going on?” She inquired.

“Someone’s up along the treeline watching the house. I’m going to find out what the hell he wants. Stay put.”

Thomas grabbed his rifle and headed for the door. He strutted across the field as Rebecca kept her eye on the situation from the kitchen window.

As Thomas drew close, the man stood up. Rebecca saw Thomas step up close to the man. She was surprised to see him set his rifle to the ground as the two men embraced.

Her son, Russell had been heavy on her mind lately. She didn’t need to guess. She knew exactly who it was.

A blast of cold air met her as she opened the door but she paid it no mind. She hitched up her dress and ran through the snow out toward the two men. Russell saw her heading his direction. He stepped back from his father and opened his arms to meet her. Tears of joy rolled down Rebecca's cheeks as she met his embrace with a force that almost caused him to lose his footing.

Thomas stood aside and savored the moment. He felt a growing lump in his throat and the bite of cold tears on his face. He hadn't seen his wife this happy in several years. He composed himself and suggested they head for the house and the warmth of the fire.

It was mid-December. Christmas had come early.

© Copyright 2024 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.

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