Five Christmas Stories and Two Other Tales

By D.C Townsend

The author wrote these seven stories over several years for his grandchildren. Each has a happy ending with a little moral message. These stories vary from children and lost dogs to young men on their horses looking for gold. These stories will take the reader from Poletown, a Detroit neighborhood of Polish immigrants, to the Black Hills of the Dakota Territory, to a New York art gallery, and to points in between. The timelines are from the 1870s to the present. How we face the challenges that life gives us is what is most important.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662465598

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Five Christmas Stories and Two Other Tales

D.C. Townsend

Copyright © 2021 D.C. Townsend

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-6558-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-6560-4 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-6559-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Santa’s Dog

Santa Wears Wing Tips

A Stone for Christmas

A Christmas Crash

Blessed by Christmas Kisses

Beauty to a Child’s Eyes

Great-Grandfather’s Gold

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

To my six wonderful grandchildren—Lauren, Carl, Dominic, Elizabeth, Angelo, and Dakota

Santa’s Dog

It was mid-December in Prairie Town. A light snow was falling. The three Johnson children—Cathy, Greg, and Paul—were walking home from school. They heard a whimper from a bush by the sidewalk. Upon looking, they discovered a shaggy brown dog curled up, shivering. Cathy picked it up. It was a frightful mess. Its hair was matted and full of burrs, and its eyes had large sleepers hanging from them. The dog’s brown eyes, peering through its hair, were so sad and begging. Cathy then opened her coat and placed the dog close to her, trying to warm it up.

Greg then asked, What are we going to do with the dog? We cannot take him home. You know that our landlord hates animals.

Paul, We have to help him.

Cathy, He belongs to someone. We need to find his family.

After much debate, they all agreed, which was a very rare event, them being twelve, eleven, and nine. They hatched a conspiracy. They had a plan.

Cathy had the final word. We are going to get in a lot of trouble, but sometimes, you have to do what you have to do.

The Johnsons lived in an old house that had seen better days. At one time, the house had been a special home, a house the original owners had been proud of. Dad was a carpenter. He had done some repairs to try to make it safe for his family. He fixed the rotten old front stairs, replaced some of the porch floorboards, fixed the leaks in the roof, and tried to make it a home. Since the housing crunch, he could not find full-time work, so he took any honest work that he could make money from.

Mom worked hard to make a good home for her family. She scraped and painted, put plastic on the windows, and caulked and even put wadded up newspaper in cracks—anything she could do to make the house less drafty and to save on the heating costs. When she was not cooking, she was cleaning or sewing. She also worked part-time as a waitress at a truck stop off the freeway that passed north of town.

The house was still a solid structure; it just needed lots of TLC. Mom and dad tried to buy it, but the owner wanted a down payment that they just could not afford at that time. They knew that they could return the house to its previous glory. Then it would be an asset to their community instead of an eyesore. They both loved the town and their neighbors. It was where they wanted to raise their family.

The children executed the plan that they had agreed to. The boys went in first. They took off their coats and boots and placed them where they were supposed to go, not throwing the stuff on the floor the way they often did. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking, where they hoped she would be. The boys went to the kitchen and made a fuss to try to distract Mom. Meanwhile, Cathy slipped in and went directly up the stairs to her bedroom.

The children thought that their plan was working. Though, Mom noticed out of the corner of her eye that Cathy did not take off her coat and boots as she usually did. Also, it appeared as if she was hiding something under her coat. Being a mother and it being close to Christmas, she thought that sometimes, one must pretend to not notice things. Soon, the boys scurried upstairs. A slight smile crossed Mom’s face. She thought it was a Christmas present for her. It had to be a first, for usually, they waited till the last minute.

Shortly, the boys returned. One told her a story about a fight in the schoolyard while the other raided the refrigerator for a couple of pieces of lunch meat, a piece of leftover roast, and a couple of slices of bread, along with two bowls, one filled with water. The boys quickly went back upstairs with their scrounged stuff. The mother’s instincts quickly kicked in. Something was up, and it probably had nothing to do with Christmas presents.

Mom waited awhile, letting the children think that they were safe. She stealthily went up the stairs. She knew where she could safely step on the creaky old steps. Going down the hall, she saw that all the doors were open and that the rooms were unoccupied. But Cathy’s door was closed. That in itself was suspicious, for Cathy never let the boys in her room. Mom listened at the door, hearing nothing but undistinguishable whispers. Then there was a yip, followed by several hushes.

That was it. Mom tapped on the door. Can I come in? Her question was followed by, Just a minute, Mom. Mom wanted to just burst in, but both she and Dad had agreed that they would try to teach their children respect for others by word and example. Through the door could be heard a lot of scurrying about. Mom’s patience was getting thin. She knocked again. After a brief pause, there was a, Come in.

Upon entering the room, she saw that there were three children sitting close together on the edge of the bed, looking as innocent as they could. Then there was another yip.

Mom then exclaimed, Okay. You are busted. What is going on? The expression on the three faces turned from pure innocence to despair and guilt. Walking to the end of the bed, Mom asked, What is that under the blanket? She noticed a distinct bulge that was moving. All three stood up, and Cathy pulled back the blanket to reveal one of the most pathetic sights Mom had ever seen. There lay a shaggy brown dog of about twenty pounds. Its hair was matted and full of burrs and dirt. The sight welled up emotions in Mom. All three children commenced talking at once, begging, pleading, all trying to explain.

Mom raised her hand, asking for quiet, saying, Let me look at what you have here. Mom proceeded to give the dog a quick examination while she asked Cathy to tell her the story.

Cathy told Mom how they found the dog. In conclusion, Cathy said, We had to try to help him.

Mom then asked Greg if he had anything to add. Greg only said that it was true. Then Mom asked Paul, who said, Mom, we just could not leave him. We had to help him.

Mom concluded that the dog was a boy that had had some hard times. It appeared that it had had a collar until recently, and he had some minor injuries. There were some blood clots on its fur, and its paw pads were worn almost raw. The dog let her examine him, only protesting when she touched his sore paws. Mom concluded that this was a dog that was used to people. Mom folded up the blanket that they had used to try to conceal him, telling Greg to take it down to the kitchen table.

She then told Cathy to carry the dog down to the kitchen, saying, He probably has fleas and who knows what else. I do not want to have an infestation of flees in the house. Mom then told Paul to take the bowls and also the hairbrush that they obviously used to try to clean up the dog. Mom then quickly folded Cathy’s bedspread in from the corners. Figuring it should be washed, she took it downstairs.

Mom thought how fortunate she was that they ate most of their meals in the dining room. There on her small kitchen table was a dirty dog on a blanket being cared for by her three children. It actually warmed her heart, for there were her three children cooperatively working together gently and lovingly trying to restore this poor animal. Mom called the Humane Society and the sheriff’s department, letting them know that they had a lost dog, and gave a brief description. Then Mom thought that she needed to say what was on her mind to her children.

You all know that we absolutely cannot keep this dog. We will try to find its family. All of you broke the rules. I cannot be too angry at you, for you all acted out of compassion, not disobedience. Next time, please come to me, for I, too, have compassion. When your dad gets home, let me do the explaining. Even though we cannot keep him, he needs a name, temporary name. I do not like saying the dog.

Paul immediately blurted out, Charlie.

Cathy looked at Paul, asking, Why Charlie?

Paul responded, He looks like a Charlie.

Mom looked at Greg and Cathy, only getting a shrug from both. Mom touched Charlie on his head, saying, I dub thee Charlie. They all had a good little laugh.

* * *

Dad seemed to accept Charlie with little ado. He even gave Charlie a pet. By bedtime, Charlie started to look presentable. He even went to the back door, asking to go out. Mom thought, Thank goodness he is house-trained. Greg went out with him. After doing his business, Charlie came right back in. The children made Charlie a bed in the corner of the kitchen with a rug and an old blanket. With a little more food and water, he seemed to settle right in.

* * *

First thing in the morning, Mom went to wake Cathy. Her door was open, what Mom saw prompted her to get her phone. She was in time to take a priceless picture, for there in bed was Cathy in the middle and a boy on each side with Charlie stretched out between Cathy’s legs.

Mom said, Time to get up, Cathy, and get ready for school. This woke Charlie. He jumped off the bed, heading for the steps. Mom followed Charlie knowing he probably had to go out. She thought about how quickly Charlie was recovering.

Upon reaching the kitchen, she observed Dad opening the back door. As Charlie scooted out, Dad went out, standing on the deck. Shortly, Dad and Charlie returned. Mom and Dad had morning coffee together. Dad sat across from Mom. He pulled out his phone and showed her a picture. Without saying a word, Mom showed Dad a very similar picture, they both laughed.

Dad then said, The children seem to be arguing and fighting a lot lately. Maybe the dog is a gift, at least a little reprieve. Maybe we can work something out with the landlord. The last time I went to pay the rent, I noticed that his porch steps and railing needed repair. Maybe he will soften his stand on a dog if I can fix them up for the cost of materials.

Mom did not reply but went and got the coffeepot. On her return, she put her arms around Dad’s shoulders, giving him a kiss on his cheek. They both agreed not to say a word to the children, avoiding disappointment.

Dad was off to work, and the children were off to school. Mom and Charlie had the house to themselves. It was Mom’s day off, so that meant cleaning day. In the middle of mopping the kitchen floor, there was a knock on the door. It was two deputy sheriff officers. Mom knew them both, for they often stopped for lunch at the truck stop. They asked if they could see the dog the kids had found. Mom invited them in.

Charlie was right there, eager to greet them. Deputy Tom, who was a K9 officer, asked if this was the dog. Mom said yes. The deputy then knelt down, petted Charlie, then proceeded to run a scanner over Charlie’s back. Tom checked his scanner, comparing the code with some papers he had. He announced that this was the dog that they were looking for.

The deputies asked a lot of questions about a collar, where he was found, and commented that he looked well-groomed. Mom answered the questions—that no collar was found and that the children found him but that she did not know exactly where. Then she showed the deputy the pictures she had taken on her phone of the children cleaning him up, the before and after.

The deputies asked if she could text them the pictures. Also, they asked if they could come back after school to have the children show them where they had found the dog. Of course, she agreed. Mom then asked them why there was so much fuss over a lost dog. They told her that there was more involved than a lost dog but that they could not tell her very much.

They assured mom that the dog came from a good family and would be well taken care of and would be returned to his owners. They also assured her that the dog had all his shots and was well taken care of and was regularly seen by a vet. Deputy Tom informed her that he would have to take the dog with him. He pulled a collar and leash from his back pocket and called, Here, Charlie. Mom asked Tom why he had called him Charlie. Officer Tom looked again at his papers, replying, Answers to the name Charlie.

Mom said, That is what my children call him.

Deputy Tom looked at Charlie, saying, Well, he looks like a Charlie.

* * *

When the children came home from school, Mom explained that the sheriff was returning Charlie to his home and that she was assured that it was a good, loving home. When she told them that his real name was Charlie, Paul said, I told you he was Charlie.

Deputy Tom returned and had the children take him to where they found Charlie. Mom went along. The children bombarded Tom with questions. Deputy Tom was polite. Mom finally had to tell the children to cool it. Mom did note that Tom seemed to treat it like a crime scene, looking and walking around. Finally, he said that there was not much here, especially with the fresh snow.

Mom knew that the children’s hearts were broken, but they seemed to find some relief in Charlie going back to a good home. When they arrived at home, Deputy Tom told them that Charlie was picked up that afternoon and was on his way home. He also assured the children that Charlie had a very good home.

* * *

It was Christmas morning, and the children were already downstairs.

Paul yelled, Mom, Dad, Santa has come. Please get up.

They heard Cathy tell Paul, Be patient. They will be down soon.

It was one of their rules that they could look but not touch until all were present. Mom and dad finally agreed with a nod, got up, put on their robes and slippers, descending the stairs. Mom and Dad agreed to forego their wake-up coffee, plopping down on the couch next to each other. Dad raised his index finger, then said, Go. It was a rush to the tree.

It was a good Christmas. Santa had been generous. Nobody got all that they wanted, though all got something to be happy with. Dad got a fine set of wood chisels. He had mentioned that the ones he had were cheap and that several were broken. Mom got a new set of good-quality Teflon-coated frying pans. The children all seemed pleased with their gifts as well.

After the main event was over, Mom got up, returning with two cups of coffee. Dad took his cup, walking to the front door to look out the window. It was just breaking daylight. He set his coffee cup on a small table, cupping his hands against the window, peering between them. He announced, I think we have company.

Mom got up, turning on the porch light. Mom and the three children were now peering out the bay window. All were straining to see through the light snow falling. Finally, Cathy broke the silence. It’s a red pickup truck and gray SUV, and both have big red bows on top. I do not see anyone in them.

After a brief moment, all the Johnsons, in their pajamas and slippers, were standing