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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Stories about Friendship & Family
- Subject: Bio/AutoBiographical
- Published: 07/10/2020
Christmas at the Ranch
Born 1954, M, from Cocoa Beach/FL, United States.jpeg)
Christmas at the Ranch
The Garbrecht’s family reunion the day after Christmas took place at Elsie Scheh’s ranch near Austin. Her daughter, Jean, lived in Dallas. Elsie’s relatives lived south of Austin in German communities of Uhland, Lockhart, and New Braunfels, where their ancestors had settled upon immigrating from Germany. The Garbrecht name disappeared when a generation of three sisters became Elsie Scheh, Lillian Weiser, and Lonie Schawe (pronounced Shaavee) when they married. Elsie’s husband, Adolph, built a grand party house on top of a hill at her ranch. It included three bedrooms, a large open kitchen, and a huge party room with a bar, two poker tables, and more beds. The ranch house comfortably accommodated 15 to 20 people at reunions.
Jean’s husband, Charles, and children, Mary, Elaine, and Gordon, drove from Dallas on a bitter cold Saturday morning for a reunion in 1966. Twelve-year-old Gordon lay in the rear of their station wagon and listened to highway tire sounds. Most of their journey took place on Interstate 35. The tire sound changed when Charles turned onto an asphalt two-lane farm road. It changed yet again with a turn onto a gravel road. They had arrived at the ranch. Their brown and white Springer Spaniel, Bevo, in a cage next to Gordon, also recognized a gravel sound and whined with anticipation. The station wagon stopped at a gate. Gordon opened the back door to let Bevo out. He unlocked the gate and opened it for the car to drive through. Then he closed it and hopped back in the car. By then, the dog had run far ahead and disappeared into the tall grass and mesquite trees. Gordon wasn’t worried about him; Bevo knew how to find the house and would be waiting there for their car. Back in the vehicle, Gordon listened to soothing sounds of tires crunching gravel. A mile later, he opened another gate at a farmhouse, and despite the frigid cold, ranch and Christmas excitement overwhelmed him. No matter what, today would be fun.
Charles drove to a small pump house. He turned on electricity to a pump and primed it with water. Drinking water now flowed to the house. Back at the house, he turned on gas heaters while Gordon gathered wood from a barn to start a fire in a brick fireplace.
Jean’s children brought food, drinks, and Christmas presents inside from the station wagon to wherever Mom directed. After unloading the car, Bevo and Gordon snuck through a grove of massive three and four-foot diameter oak trees surrounding the hilltop. He looked at his favorite part of the ranch, a ten-acre lake in a valley. He spotted a large flock of ducks spread across the water.
“Bevo, stay up here. We’ll hunt later.”
Bevo’s intelligence was eerie. He usually knew what Gordon said. He followed Gordon back to the house, knowing a hunt would follow soon.
Gordon heard gravel crunching and turned to see his grandparents stop at the gate. He ran over and opened it to let them through. He and his sisters followed the grandparent’s car to the house, hugged them with Christmas cheer. Then the children carried food and presents inside.
Gravel crunched continuously as more relatives arrived. Women gathered in the kitchen to catch up on gossip and warm numerous food dishes. The men built a fire in a barrel outside where they gathered for warmth and catch up with Charles for the first time in a year. Gordon helped John Weiser carry a Christmas tree and decorations inside, bringing glee to the children. This year’s tree had unique decorations from Melissa Weiser – many rolled-up dollar bills tied to limbs.
“Now you kids leave those dollars alone for now. You can’t have them until after the other presents are opened,” Melissa said.
While aunts and grandchildren decorated the tree, Gordon and John snuck out the back door and zipped up their jackets.
“Did you see any ducks?” John asked.
“Yes. Lots of ’em. But Dad doesn’t let me hunt without him.”
“Don’t worry, come with me. I brought my deer rifle.”
“Cool.”
He retrieved his rifle from his truck bed and loaded it in the cab. Bevo appeared, knowing guns led to hunting. John drove Gordon to the edge of the hill and stopped. Bevo followed behind, watching expectantly.
“See those ducks? I told you so.”
“Let’s take a look,” John said, his tall, lean frame moving smoothly. He rolled down his window and opened his truck door, then stepped out and laid his gun on the windowsill to hold it still. He leaned forward and looked through the scope.
Gordon jumped out of the truck and walked around it to watch John shoot.
“Probably about 50 of them,” John said.
“That’s a long shot,” Gordon said. At that distance, the ducks looked like specks of pepper bunched up on the water. “How far away do you think they are?”
“About 300 yards. That’s nothing. I shot a deer at 350 years last week.”
John’s shooting accuracy amazed people. He hunted all season long and shot more deer than anybody in the family. Gordon couldn’t imagine hitting anything at three football fields distance.
Bevo whined in anticipation of fetching ducks from the water - his passion in life.
“Sit,” Gordon told him. “Stay.”
“That’s too far for my 270, but I have a 30-06 rifle today. There’s no wind, so this shot shouldn’t be a problem.” John took off his hat and adjusted the scope. He snugged the rifle to his shoulder and steadied the barrel on the window frame. “See the one closest to shore?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s the one. You might want to plug your ears. This gun’s loud.”
John exhaled, becoming still as dirt. Gordon put his fingers in his ears. Boom shattered the silence. A big splash of water startled the flock and sent them into flight, wings franticly fluttering, bunched up tight. Bevo looked at Gordon, waiting for the fetch command.
John looked through his scope again. “Got him.”
They jumped into the truck and drove to the edge of the lake as Bevo ran behind them. Gordon left the vehicle and spotted a black object floating fifty yards out.
He told Bevo, “Sit.”
“Watch this,” he told John. He put his arm next to Bevo’s head and moved his hand toward the duck. At the same time, he said, “Fetch.”
Bevo lunged through the air, hitting the water with a splash. He swam in the direction Gordon had pointed. At thirty yards out, Bevo turned and looked for guidance. Gordon waved his arm toward the bird. Bevo followed the bearing and soon found the duck. He grabbed it and swam back to shore with his prize.
When Bevo climbed out of the water, Gordon said, “Come.” Bevo proudly brought the shredded bird and sat in front of Gordon, who reached down and took it from Bevo’s gentle mouth.
“Not much of this left,” Gordon noted.
“Not going to be eating that one.” John chuckled.
“You’re a great shot. Wow, three hundred yards.”
“Learned that in the Army. It’s almost time to eat. Let’s go back.”
They drove back to the house where John threw the duck remains into the fire barrel.
"You're just supposed to shoot them in the head," Charles said, bring laughter from the other.
"Let's see you hit one at 300 yards," John replied, ending the conversation.
By now, all the relatives had arrived. Men pulled rocking chairs around the fireplace and fed logs to the blaze. They drank Christmas cider, caught up on family news, and told stories of the old days.
Lonies’ sons Robert, an electrician, and Michael, a painter, each had several children. Melissa’s husband, John, worked in a printing shop, and his father, Trudo, built houses.
Robert Schawe started in on his navy stories.
“Did I ever tell ya I was in the big war? I joined the navy and rode a destroyer all over the Pacific. You wouldn’t believe the storms we went through. One time a hurricane caught us in the Sea of Japan. The waves were so big I thought the ship was going down. Every sailor on that ship was dying sick but me. I never once got sick. And then they took us to Hiroshima when the war ended. I went to where the atomic bomb went off. Damn, that city was wiped out as far as I could see. That was one awful sight. Nothing left but sticks and bricks. We sure bombed the hell out of those Japs.”
Adolph asked, “John, you get any deer this year?”
“What kind of darn fool question’s that? Did I get any deer? Of course, I shot deer. The question is how many. I killed a six-pointer on opening day down south at my lease. I went back there yesterday and shot an eight pointer. They were big South Texas deer, at least 200 pounds. You know those little Hill Country deer run around my house west of Austin. I shot a doe from my back porch last week just to have fresh meat in the refrigerator. I got one more deer tag, so I’ll get another one next week before the season’s over.”
“Since when did the end of a season keep you from shooting a deer?” Michael asked, bring a chuckle from the men.
“Aw, you know it doesn’t. I was just talking about using my last tag.” More laughter.
“Hey, Charles,” said Michael. “You do any hunting?”
“Oh yeah. No deer hunting, but we shot lots of doves right here Labor Day weekend. Then I went out west and killed a bunch of quail on Thanksgiving. Saw a bunch of turkeys, but they were hens. Didn’t see any gobblers. I’ll go one more time next week looking for a gobbler.”
The storytelling continued, but the eight children eight to twelve years old wanted nothing to do with adults. They went outside and played around the barrel fire and in the barn. Kenneth brought out his 22-rifle, and the kids headed to the dump behind the house - a big hole in the ground full of bottles and cans that made perfect targets. Gordon put Bevo in his cage to stay away from the shooting. They passed the rifle from boy to boy to practice their shooting skills, cheering when bottles shattered, and cans went flying and spinning through the air.
After a while, they tired of shooting and turned to more mischievous fun. At this age, the boys had discovered fireworks, and the country boys had brought an abundant supply. They started by throwing single firecrackers into the barrel. Then moved to strings of many in the barrel. Soon it sounded like war as firecrackers flew around the yard. Then bottle rocket and roman candle battles started, with Gordon receiving most of the fire because he was the smallest boy and the country cousins ganged up on him. The girls hid in the barn while the boys clashed in earnest. Gordon became a casualty when a firecracker went off in his hand and burned his ear. In defeat, he went inside for cold water to put on his hand while the boys laughed.
In the kitchen, delicious food smells permeated the air as women prepared a holiday feast of food from their German heritage. Turkey stuffed with sausage, red cabbage, potato dumplings, and gingerbread were delicacies for the England children who only ate such delicious German foods once a year at these reunions. Lonie’s specialties were bread and butter pickles and homemade bread. An overabundance of German potato salad was snacked on all day long.
Once dinner was ready, everybody gathered in the kitchen, and Adolph said grace. A buffet line formed, and hungry relatives filled their plates with holiday food. Adults ate at a big table in the kitchen, while children went to a small table in the party room to get away from boring grownup talk. The boys talked about hunting and fishing while girls chattered about becoming cheerleaders someday. After dinner came the best part, dessert. Mountains of apple pie with a thick crust, pecan pie, baklava, and pastries finished off the meal.
When all had eaten to their heart’s content, the family gathered around the Christmas tree. John retrieved a Santa Claus costume and entered the room with a big Ho, Ho, Ho. Children crowded around him as he handed out candy to them. Each piece had a number taped to it. Once all the numbers were handed out, the kids searched under the tree for their numbered gift. Most presents were arts and craft items with beads and glue and paint.
“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for,” announced Melissa. “Kids, come and get money from the dollar tree.”
Children swarmed the tree, pulling dollar bills and stuffing them into pockets. It just took thirty seconds to strip the tree clean of money.
Christmas present paper added to the fireplace created huge flames that warmed the house. Children quieted as they dove into craft challenges, while women cleaned in the kitchen. The men migrated to the round poker table where the country boys tried to win back Dallas money from Charles that they lost last year. The Garbrecht family reveled in the Christmas spirit through the evening. When the poker game wound down, cars were packed, and goodbyes exchanged with promises of another reunion next year.
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