It was a busy pre-Christmas week at the fort even though we were stuck out in the wilderness surrounded by fields that lay fallow where beyond that the forests, full of a huge variety of trees, was found a gorgeous tree perfect for a Christmas celebration.
This was a new item added to a long list of traditions brought in by the assortment of people who immigrated from European countries, all of us seeking the freedom this country, still young in the mid –nineteenth century, offered in settling their far northwest.
For the last three days we were under siege by an angry tribe of natives although we had made peace with the tribes who lived in the region, enjoying and sharing what we had to offer including our stories from the old country about the Christmas season.
I was hoping and praying they would come to our rescue since we became personal friends with mostly everyone in the tribes as they were invited to come and go freely in our homes.
Our abundant harvest reassured us of holding out for a long time but our ammunition was quite another matter without a general store around the corner to replenish our supply.
All of a sudden the arrows and bullets noticeably lessened, so I gazed over the wall of the fort to see a vast number of blue uniforms atop thundering horses rising out of the horizon full of the sunshine lighting up the land at the river, knowing instantly that we were saved to live and share our Christmas Day with many guests of soldiers and natives at our tables.