Ticket to Curlew (7 page)

SCHOOL ENDED ON
the tenth of December. It would open again in early April if the roads were passable. In the winter the weather was too chancey to risk sending children several miles over the bald prairie. They might get caught in a blizzard, lose their way and never get home.

Chalkey told them about a teacher over in Saskatchewan who sent the children home one day when snow began to fall. “But she wasn't really worried,” he went on. “She was from back east and she figured western folks were exaggerating about blizzards. She stayed to mark some papers. By the time she decided to go home, she couldn't see six inches in front of her. She ended up spending five days all alone in the schoolhouse, and she had to burn the books to keep warm. I guess she was the one who learned a lesson.”

The pupils planned to rush through their lessons during the last week of school so they could spend the afternoons preparing for the Christmas concert. It would be held Friday evening, and every one of them would take part in the program.

On Monday morning, just as Miss Barnett finished taking attendance, there was a great stamping in the cloakroom. In came Mr. Holderman, the agent in charge of the railroad station. He stood just inside the doorway bringing the cold breath of the snowy prairie morning with him. Sam thought he had never smelled such fresh air.

“I hope you'll excuse me, ma'am,” Mr. Holderman said. “I've brought you all a little something to help you celebrate Christmas, compliments of the Canadian Pacific Railway.” Then he reached back through the door and brought in a little pine tree.

All the children stared. Sam breathed deeply. That was the fresh smell. A pine tree.

It was no wonder the children were staring, he thought. There were no trees at all in Curlew and on the prairies there were only scrub willow trees, drooping toward the pond or wash that allowed them to live. But this tree stood straight, and its stiff branches were thick with dark green needles. It filled the school room with its wild forest scent.

Like the children Miss Barnett was silent for a moment. Then she said, “This will make Christmas very special. The CPR couldn't have done anything nicer for our school.”

“They give a Christmas tree to every school along the line,” said Mr. Holderman. “It seems that the forests in Canada are just not distributed evenly, so the CPR has to help out.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holderman,” said Miss Barnett. “Sam, you take the tree.”

Sam took hold of the rough trunk. The tree was almost as tall as he was and its branches were straight and even. Sam thought he could never get enough of looking at it. He had seen trees before he came to the prairies — many different kinds. But to see one after all these months gave him a stab of pure joy.

Especially a Christmas tree. The smell took him right back to Christmas on the Iowa farm. Sometimes the Ferriers couldn't get a tree, but Mama always made sure they at least had some evergreen boughs for decoration so that the house would smell like Christmas.

Miss Barnett came and stood beside Sam. “Some of you children have never seen a tree, I think.” Several heads nodded. “Well, just as in eastern Alberta we have an abundance of fertile open land, in many parts of Canada there is an abundance of trees. Ten and twenty times the size of this one and thousands of them. Thousands and thousands.”

It was hard to look at one small pine tree and think of thousands of thousands of big ones. Miss Barnett rolled down the map and showed the pupils the extent of the forests of the Dominion of Canada, but the children just wanted to look at their tree. Finally Miss Barnett gave up.

“We'll stand our tree in a bucket so that we can keep it watered, and we'll all make decorations for it. I've been saving some silver paper for a special occasion, and this is certainly that.”

At the end of the day the tree stood right beside Miss Barnett's desk covered with shining snowflakes and stars. At the top was an angel with a lace skirt and feathery wings made of cut paper and a face painted by Miss Barnett herself.

“Tomorrow I'll bring cranberries to string,” said Sarah Martin. She lived in town right behind Pratt's store. “Our tree will be the most beautiful in Alberta.”

“Just remember that the tree won't put on the Christmas concert,” said Miss Barnett. “You must start practicing your pieces tomorrow. But cranberries will be lovely, Sarah.”

Sam still hadn't decided what to do in the concert. He thought of offering to be in charge of chairs and coats, but he knew Miss Barnett would not think that was enough. Every pupil was expected to present a piece. Matt was memorizing a poem about Santa Claus. Josie and three of the other girls had made up a play about a little girl who worked at the inn where Jesus was born in the stable. Josie was going to sing “Sweet and Low,” a lullaby Pa used to sing when they were babies.

“I don't see why anyone in Bethlehem would sing about the wind of the western sea,” said Sam to Josie as they rode to school the next morning.

“Pa sings about it,” said Josie, “and he has never seen the western sea, either. It just happens to be my favorite song. Anyway, you don't even know what you're going to do for the concert.”

But the Christmas tree had given Sam an idea. There was a story in one of their books at home called “The Fir Tree.” It was by Hans Christian Andersen.

On Tuesday Sam brought the book to school. He showed the story to Miss Barnett.

“Could I read this at the concert?” he asked.

“That's a fine idea, Sam. But you'll have to shorten it.”

Sam didn't mind. He didn't like the end, anyway, because the tree got thrown on a trash heap and regretted ever being a Christmas tree. Sam doubted that trees had regrets, but he liked the part of the story where the tree was in the woods wanting to be a Christmas tree. That didn't sound too likely, either, but he thought folks would like it, especially with a tree right there to look at.

It was really Mr. Corbett who gave Sam the feeling he could read to a whole school full of people. He still talked about how well Sam had read the story from the paper. Sometimes now he asked that Sam take a turn reading the newspaper on a Saturday. Sam almost looked forward to those times, but when he thought about four tall men waiting for him to read because they couldn't, he felt strange.

“Why can't they read, Pa?” he asked one Saturday after the Corbetts had filed out of their kitchen. “They're smart, I know that.”

“They're smart enough,” said Pa. “But folks who don't learn to read when they're young usually don't think of doing it later. I expect the Corbetts have spent their lives working all the time. They just never had a chance to go to school.”

Like Gregor, thought Sam. Gregor would get a chance to learn English someday, he guessed. But maybe by then it would be too late for reading to come easily to him.

On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday Sam read “The Fir Tree” over and over to himself. Pa listened to him read it aloud each evening after supper. “Loud and clear, son,” he said. “You want every listener to hear every golden word.”

On Friday morning before school began, Sam spoke to Miss Barnett about a new idea he had.

“I have a friend who doesn't know English,” he explained. “He can't come to school because his family can't spare him from the farm, but I thought that in the winter when there isn't so much to do I could teach him to say some words and read them. But I need a book.”

“Is it the Chomyk boy?” asked Miss Barnett. “It would be wonderful if he could learn English. I know Mr. and Mrs. Chomyk want the best for their children, but there's no one who can talk to them about school. They really are alone in a new country. I think you have a very good idea, and I have just the book to start you off.” She went to her desk, took out a big book and handed it to Sam. It was full of pictures of animals and plants and houses and people. Every picture had a word beside it.

“This is perfect,” said Sam. “Thank you, Miss Barnett. I'll bring it back in April.”

On Friday afternoon Miss Barnett dismissed the children early so that they would have time to get home and have supper before returning to the school for the concert. Sam carried his book home so he could take a last look at the story after supper, but he barely had time to open it.

He and Matt both had to put on clean white shirts and neckties. Josie was very pleased with her red dress with lace ruffles down the front. Her only complaint was that she had to look at herself in sections in Mama's small mirror.

When they were all dressed, Mama lined them up to check their faces and give their hair a final brush. Then they all piled into the wagon.

It wasn't until they were halfway to the school that Sam realized the book was at home lying on the table.

“We have to go back, Pa. We have to,” he said desperately.

“You know there isn't time for that,” Pa said firmly.

Mama turned around to look at Sam. “You know that story so well you hardly have to look at the book when you read it to us,” she said in an encouraging voice. “You can just say it in your own words.”

“I've heard it so often I could take your place,” said Josie.

Sam felt sick. Pa was right. They couldn't go back and it was his own fault anyway. He held on to a faint hope that Miss Barnett would let him off. “I can't read the story when I don't have the book,” he would explain. But it was a very faint hope.

When they got to the school the whole family waited while Pa and Sam put up the horses in the newly built shed. The children all wanted to see Mama and Pa's faces when they saw the Christmas tree. They had agreed to save it for a surprise.

As they came into the cloakroom, it seemed to Sam that they must be earlier than he thought because there was no sound of chattering from the schoolroom. Yet they had to hunt to find hooks for their coats.

Maybe we're late, he thought. Maybe Miss Barnett is waiting just for us.

The family gathered at the door and Pa opened it quietly as if he, too, thought they might be late. But it was not the program that was hushing the crowded room. It was the Christmas tree.

The tree had been beautiful when the children went home at the end of the school day. Now it was magical. On each branch was a burning candle. The light shone and glittered on the silver snowflakes and stars. The chains of cranberries glowed like rubies. And the little tree stood straight and proud, bringing the wonder of creation into the bare schoolroom.

Mama and Pa found places on the benches around the room. Matt, Josie and Sam squeezed in behind the desks with the other children. Still more people came in.

When at last all were seated, Miss Barnett walked to the front of the room and said, “Welcome to the Curlew School Christmas concert. Since we are so lucky as to have a real Christmas tree and since the candles will not last for the entire program, I think we should start with a story about a Christmas tree. Sam Ferrier will begin with a reading of ‘The Fir Tree' by Hans Christian Andersen.”

Sam's legs wouldn't move. His face felt stiff with fear. Josie was right next to him. She leaned closer and whispered, “I dare you to do it, Sam. I dare you.” He turned to look at her and she smiled. He noticed that her smile, unlike her words, was a lot like Mama's. He stood up.

Standing by the tree gave him some courage. Surely people would be looking at the tree, not at him.

He cleared his throat. “I decided to tell you the story in my own words. I hope you like it.” The dimly lit room seemed to be full of faces, all staring at him. He paused and the silence got longer and longer. Then Josie's face caught his eye. She frowned at him and her lips silently shaped the words, Go on!

Sam took a deep breath and began. “There was once a pretty little fir tree that grew in a forest.” Then in his mind, he could see that little tree growing among taller ones, and the story unfolded easily. He hardly saw the faces in front of him now. When he got to the part where the tree was a Christmas tree, he made it happier than the story in the book did. He thought that a tree like the one next to him would be happy to be shining with candles and silver stars, if it had feelings.

“And the children and the tree were happy together that Christmas day,” he ended. It seemed that the ending had come very quickly. Suddenly his knees began to shake.

Miss Barnett stood up. “Thank you, Sam,” she said. “I've never liked that story so much. Now let us all sing ‘Deck the Halls.'”

Sam sat in a daze through the rest of the program. He was surprised at what he had done. He heard Josie sing her song in a sweet voice. With a big gray shawl covering her red dress, she really managed to look like a humble maidservant. Matt made everyone laugh, which made him very happy.

They all agreed that the Christmas concert was a great success. At the end Mr. Pratt distributed little bags of nuts and beautiful hard candies in wavy ribbon shapes.

Miss Barnett came up to Sam and said, “It was a good idea to tell the story, Sam. What made you think of it?”

Pa answered for him. “It's necessity that often leads to the greatest deeds, wouldn't you say, Miss Barnett?”

Miss Barnett smiled at Sam. “It does if the person is truly prepared and you certainly were. Merry Christmas to all of you.”

On the way home in the wagon Pa said, “That was a fine way to end your first term at Curlew School. Now we'll just hole up for the winter. We're pretty lucky. We have plenty of food, and the house is tight. We just have to think of ways to keep busy.”

“I have something I want to do,” said Sam. “I want to teach Gregor English. I guess he can ride over sometimes or I can go over to his place. Prince will be needing exercise.”

“That's a good idea, son,” said Pa. “Rabbit and Lady will be needing exercise, too.”

Sam wondered why Pa would expect him to take Rabbit or Lady. They were the work horses, not often used for riding. They pulled a wagon or a plow well, but for riding they were stodgy.