3
On Christmas Eve the whole family helped to decorate the Christmas tree. They pinned their socks and stockings to the branches and each in turn played surreptitious Santa Claus. Such rare luxuries as oranges and English walnuts were stuffed into bags of red netting, and these in turn were shoved into the foot of each stocking. A very few inexpensive but thoughtful gifts were wrapped in tissue paper and tied with silver ribbons. Stud had the worst of it, trying to tie pretty bow knots with his large, blunt fingers.
They gathered about the organ and sang Christmas carols while Sarah played. Beginning with such semi-frivolous songs as "Jingle Bells" and "Deck the Halls with Wreaths of Holly," they progressed to the more moving hymns such as "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," and "Silent Night, Holy Night." Sarah's sweet soprano, Stud's deep bass, Early Ann's husky alto, and Peter's clear baritone joined to praise the Mother and Child who one thousand nine hundred and thirteen years before had occupied a manger in Bethlehem.
On that same Christmas Eve, Joe Whalen and Kate Barton who had been respectively pumping and playing the Methodist pipe organ since their late teens decided to elope to Janesville. Kate had finally induced Joe to take the temperance pledge, but he felt that a quart of rye was imperative to celebrate his coming nuptials.
Temperance Crandall lit the candle in her front window. She could hear the children singing at the church, but she did not cross the street to attend the cantata. After a while she blew out the candle, stoked the fire, went up the cold, dark stairs to her bed.
On a Pullman sleeper roaring toward New York, Mike O'Casey awoke from a fretful sleep, pulled up the blind, and found he was in Cleveland. Christmas carollers were making an ungodly racket on the station platform. He made obscene remarks about the whole idea of Christmas as well as the fool notion of attempting to run a trailer factory in Brailsford Junction. His friend O'Hallohan, the New York banker, would have to sign his note for fifty thousand dollars, or he would tell Tammany what he knew about O'Hallohan.
To the tune of the "Junkman Rag" Maxine Larabee was dancing the night away in Madison, Wisconsin, with a Beta from the University of Wisconsin who would presently know the last word on legumes, rotation of crops, and soil analysis. She was very sleepy the next morning when her wealthy grandmother came into her bedroom crying "Merry Christmas."
From the windows where he sat brooding Joe Valentine could see the Brailsford home ablaze with Christmas. A plan began to take form in his slow mind. If Stud Brailsford thought that he could buy him with a few groceries he was badly mistaken. Joe never forgot. He hadn't forgotten that nigger who had knifed him in Rockford, Illinois. Some black woman was probably still hunting for that shine.
And Stud Brailsford—when the others were in bed—went out with his lantern to take a last look at the barns. The ponies drowsed in their box stalls, the big bull's eyes glowed in the lantern light. Stud stopped to pet the stallion and the twin Percheron colts. One of those twins would some day make a great sire.
He noticed that the stars were very large and bright above his barn that night.
BOOK FOUR