The night sky was clear, filled with a million flickering points of light. The cold wind bit at Pete’s nose and cheeks, even through the thick scarf wrapped around his face, his breath forming a momentary fog each time he exhaled. Hannah snorted and shook her head, shaking ice crystals from her snout, as if to disapprove of their stopping to look over Long Bear Lake. Pete patted the horse’s neck with his mittened hand. He started to turn from the lake, when a shooting star, a meteorite caught his eye. The bright light flared across the northern sky, almost looking like it would hit the lakes far north end. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the light of the stars again ruled the sky.

Peter Quinn, District Forest Ranger of the state conservation commission, pulled slightly on Hannah’s reins, and the sturdy mountain horse willingly headed down the old logging road toward the warm barn of home. Long Bear Lake, the largest and longest of the Bear Late Chain, stretched north for over 30 miles, ending just shy of the Canadian border. Because it was aligned perfectly with Polaris, the North Star, all the stars in the sky appear to rotate around it. The First People of these mountains call it, “The Creators Trail,” the pathway to heaven. If he hadn’t turned away, Pete would’ve witnessed an amazing sight. From the North, moving at an astonishing pace, came a sled pulled by eight large golden dogs. The sled was driven by a tall, seemingly solid man, his face shielded by a closely trimmed white beard, although on this frigid, crystal clear night, he appeared to be impervious to the cold. It was hard to make out by the light of the stars, but his coat was bright red wool, his pants blue with a golden stripe down each leg that ended in a pair of moose hide mukluks. Wisps of white hair blew out from under his large beaver fur hat, and on the center of the front of the hat was the golden shield of the insignia of the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police. A Mountie.

Natasha Quinn knew things. The oldest of Pete’s grandchildren, Natasha had moved to the mountains from the city as if to recapture the amazing journey she had taken when she was only twelve years old. Devotedly attached to her grandfather in heart and spirit, Tasha, as she was known, longed to wear the green and tan uniform and scarlet Mackinaw of the State Forest Rangers like her grandfather; to become the first ever female Ranger in the state. So far, she had made it as far as the fire tower on the summit of nearby “Old Baldy,” Bald Mountain Lookout, during the summer months and into the fall fire season. During the winter, she worked and boarded at the Tall Pine Bar and Grill in Mill Forge, waitressing and cleaning for Woody, the proprietor, and thereby able to take care of her grandfather when her grandmother was in the city with the rest of her family. The smile lit her face as the familiar figure came through the tavern door, escorted by a gust of cold wind until he shut it behind himself. Pete Quinn smiled at Natasha and hugged her. “Ugh! Grandpa you’re all cold,” she admonished. “Again.”

“Comes with the territory, sweetie. You know that. If you want to wear the uniform,” he started.

“I know, I know, Papa.” She kissed him on the cheek and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. “Turkey or roast beef tonight, Pop?”

“That depends. Is your boss going to let me pay for it this time?”

She shook her head but smiled. “It’s already paid for. You know that. With Grandma down in the city, you are my responsibility, and I love it. Tell me you put that poor horsey in the barn before you came in here.”

“Done and done. She is peacefully and happily munching her oats in the trooper’s old barn.”

The girl grinned. “Good. So now, let’s get some peacefully and happy munching into her rider.” Natasha waltzed off to the kitchen while Pete took a table by the fire. Woody came out from behind the bar and ambled over to the Ranger.

“Tell her it’s okay to sit with you, Pete. What in the world were you doing out on a night like this? We haven’t had any customers in over an hour because it’s so blanking cold out.”

Pete sighed. “It wasn’t really intentional this time. I had a report of the large tree down across Long Bear Lake Road and I knew the truck wasn’t going to get through the snow, but Hannah could. So, I rode out, cut it up and we dragged it out of the way. I won’t say the road is open, but it’ll make it easier for the town plow to get through. Saw a really cool falling star out over Long Bear. It looked like it was going to land right on the lake.” They paused as Natasha approached with a platter heaped with roast beef, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a small cup of cranberry sauce that Natasha knew was her grandfather’s favorite. She started to turn back to the kitchen, but Woody put a hand on her sleeve. “Sit. Entertain your grandpa for a while. It’s not like there’s anyone else in the dining room. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure. I ran this place when you were just a wee tyke. I think I can do it for an hour or so longer.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you drinking? And don’t tell me coffee, just because your grandpa is here. I think he knows you drink beer.”

“And Scotch,” Pete added with a sly grin. “And I won’t tell you how long she’s been doing that.”

“Papa!” She leaned in and hugged him. “Besides, I’m an adult now. I’ll have a draught, Woody. Thanks.” Her boss turned and started back to the bar when the door opened again, and a tall figure covered in snow and wool came in, and like Pete before him had to push the door shut against the wind. Natasha started to get up, but Woody flagged her to stay with her grandfather.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Tall Pine. If you want to shake your coat off there by the door, then you can hang it on the rack over by the fire.” He eyed the newcomer’s red wool coat. “Just make sure you don’t confuse it with the other red Mackinaw hanging there. It belongs to our local district forest ranger. That’d be him sitting there with my beautiful associate. Don’t get any ideas though. She’s also his granddaughter.”

The tall man appeared to chuckle under his layers of wool. He unwrapped his scarf, took off his scarlet coat and shook it out, then took the beaver skin hat off and shook it. He hung each of them on the opposite side of the coat rack from Pete’s and gestured to the empty chair at the Ranger’s table. “Mind if I join you, Ranger Quinn, Miss Quinn?”

Pete gestured to the empty chair. “Have we met? Do we know each other?”

“After a fashion,” the other man smiled and held out his hand. “Nicholas Meyers, late of His Majesty’s Royal Canadian Mounted Police, retired from that line of work.” The two men shook hands, and the former Mountie took the offered seat. “You must be pretty close to retirement yourself, Pete, aren’t you?”

“I keep telling him that,” Natasha interjected before he could reply. “Grandma does too, and so does my mom. He can be pretty stubborn.”

“That must be where you get it from,” Pete smiled.

Nicholas smiled at the two of them. “You two are really close, aren’t you?”

“From the very beginning,” Pete hand closed over Natasha’s. “When she was a baby, I was the only one who could get her to stop crying. Her mom and dad, my wife, all tried. All I had to do was pick her up.” Meyers nodded. “So, what brings a retired Mountie in the Mill Forge the week before Christmas?”

“Just traveling. I’ve got a big trip coming up in a few days and I wanted to give my dogs a chance to stretch their legs before we took off on that. I didn’t realize that I crossed the border until I reached the south end of that big lake out there. I assume it was you who cut up that spruce that was down along the road.”

“I’ve always been interested in mushing,” Pete confessed. “What kind of dogs do you have? Inuit?”

The Mountie shook his head. “Have you ever heard of Chinooks?”

Pete nodded slowly. “Weren’t they the dog of choice for Admiral Richard Byrd on his South Pole Expedition?”

“Good memory. Yes, and a number of other large scale Arctic trips. They’re perfectly suited for hauling heavy loads long distances. Would you happen to know where I can put them up for the night? America tends to be more mechanized than we are up north of the 49th parallel. A barn or just somewhere I can spread some hay for them would be fine.”

“If they’re okay around horses, you’re welcome to stay out at our place for the night.”

“Ahem,” Natasha coughed from her seat on the opposite side of the table. “Grandpa, I haven’t had a chance to get out there today. It’s probably pretty cold in the house. Mr. Meyers, you’re welcome to stay here. We have some nice rooms upstairs and your dogs could still stay in grandpa’s barn.”

Nicholas gave her a big smile. “That’s quite all right, Natasha. It’s okay if I call you that, isn’t it?”

“It’s okay, but I don’t recall our being introduced. How do you know our names?”

“I’m good with that sort of thing,” he replied. Woody set down a heaping platter of roast beef and potatoes that rivaled the one Natasha had brought Pete. “What do I owe you, Woody?”

Natasha waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Meyers. Woody, put it on my tab.”

“You don’t have a tab, Natasha Quinn. You cook the food. But I agree with you. I’d rather give it to somebody than have it go to waste since we’re probably not going to have any more customers tonight.” He turned back to the Mountie. “On the house, courtesy of Natasha here.”

“Thank you, Woody, and you, Natasha.” He dug into the roast beef and after a couple of bites, looked over at Pete. “As I was saying, I’m just traveling a bit. It’s looking like we may get some weather here. How much snow of you already had?”

“Well, if you’re into winter sports like skiing or those new snowmobile things, it’s a good winter. If you’re in the lumber business, not so much. It’s too deep to do much skidding.”

“Indeed. In just the amount of time it took me to get in from that lake, it clouded up and, as you saw when I came through the door, was snowing pretty good.” Pete nodded, rose and walked over to the window. “You’re right,” he responded. “This really moved in quickly. Finish up, Constable, and we’ll get you and your team out to our place.” Natasha started to say something, but her grandfather shot her a glance. She continued regardless.

“I’m just going to point out that you and your animals are both already here. You can either stay here in the rooms upstairs, or the state police barracks. It’s really just an old house with a barn anyhow, and Hannah is already in the barn.” Pete frowned, looking out at the heavily falling snow. “Maybe you’re right, sweetheart. Are you going to stay in your room here?”

“As long as you’re not going to try and get to the house. Honestly, Papa, we have rooms here.” Pete looked at the constable, who gave a shrug in return. “I’m good with whatever you decide, Ranger, but either way I need to get my dogs in one barn or another.” He came to stand by Pete. “This does not look like it’s going to end anytime soon.”

Pete looked around the room. “I think we’ll stay in the barracks. The troopers are probably down in Monroe, or already home. While I prefer the time when we had resident troopers, there is a radio there and, if the lines don’t come down, reliable phone service; not a party line.”

Natasha smiled and wrapped her arm around her grandfather’s. “Good. Grandma would be upset with me if I let you go any farther than down the street in this.” Pete kissed her forehead. “Put your coat on so you can help us move the dogs into the barn behind the barracks.”

Pete awoke to the jangling of the phone and the simultaneous pounding on the door, which was not uncommon for a forest ranger, until he remembered where he was. He rolled off the cot, ran down the stairs, grabbed the phone and uttered, “Hold on,” and reached the front door. He opened it to admit a bedraggled and snow-covered individual and turned back picking up the handset the telephone. “State Police. This is District Forest Ranger Quinn. Can I help you?”

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“Pete! I’m not sure what you’re doing there but, thank God you are,” a desperate sounding voice came through the scratchy phone line. “This is Sergeant Cerenza, Chik. We’ve received a phone report from Capital City that there is a train either derailed or buried in the snow somewhere northwest of Mill Forge, as near as we can tell, it’s in the Paragon area. There are about twenty passengers and crew on board, including a really sick little girl. They set out from Foreston just before the storm hit. Evidently the train’s fireman was able to hike out to Little Moose Station and get a phone line to Foreston, and they were able to call through to the capital. The kid needs a nurse, at least. Is your wife there?”

Constable Meyers tapped Pete on the shoulder and indicated the man standing by the door. “He’s from the train,” the Mountie whispered.

“Hold on, Chik. We may have your fireman here, and no, Erin’s in Springfield with her folks. Tasha and I were going to join them later,” he looked out the window at the snow that was already piled midway up its glass frame. “The line isn’t real good. Can you hold?”

“I’ll try not to lose you,” the trooper replied.

“You’re off the train?” He asked the newcomer.

“I am. I had some skis in the baggage car for my kid, but I got to break them in first. I got to Little Moose and the stationmaster said there was no point going back, because it was worse behind me, which I knew. I just kept coming until I reached here, because I figured the troopers might help. We had just started up a steep hill when the pilot truck, the front wheels of the engine, rode up over the snow and off the tracks. We derailed.”

“How deep was the snow?”

The fireman shook his head. “I stayed on the tracks, but off the grade it is probably four foot or more.” He nodded toward the window. “And it’s still coming down.”

“Okay, hold on.” Pete put the receiver back to his ear. “Chik, you still there? Did you catch any of that?”

“Yeah, most of it. Look, they’re trying to get that rotary plow out of the railyard in Springfield, but even if they get it running, it’s going to be hours to it even reaches here in Monroe, and even longer to get to Mill Forge and onto Paragon Wilderness. It’ll be late tomorrow, and even that is if the snow lets up.”

“I can help,” the Mountie offered. “My team can get through this. They’ve been through worse. Let us help, Peter.” Pete looked at Nicholas and held up a finger then returned to the phone.

“Chik, I may have some help here. Staying with me in the barracks because of the weather is a Canadian Mountie, a retired constable with a dogsled and team. He says they can handle this.”

“You have a what?” the scratchy voice came across the phone. “How did the Mountie end up in our barracks in Mill Forge? You know, never mind. If he thinks it’ll work, it’ll be faster than anything we can get out of here or Foreston.”

“You got it. We’ll keep you posted as we can. Wish us luck,” Pete added.

“Everyone here will be praying for you.” The trooper rang off.

He turned to the fireman. “It’s,” he looked at his watch, “7:45. What time did you leave the train?”

“Probably around 11 o’clock.”

“What is the status of the little girl who’s ill, and the rest of the passengers?”

“Probably pretty hungry at this point, but they should be warm. We had close to a full load of coal in the tender, and the stoves in the cars can burn either coal or wood. The boss and the conductor were going to move everybody into one car. Food? We only have snack stuff, but that girl was in a bad way. She has a terrible fever.” There was a stomping on the porch of the barracks, and the door opened to reveal Natasha and Woody carrying breakfast. “There’s plenty for everybody, Pete, Nick. I sent the trainman here after he stopped at the Tall Pine looking for help,” Woody explained. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Let’s eat real quick and see if we can round up some of the guys from the fire company who can ski and have the equipment. We’ll need to take food for the train, and what medication we can muster for the girl.”

“Eve,” the constable said quietly. “Her name is Eve.” Pete shot him a look but didn’t comment.

“A couple of my girlfriends are really good on skis, Pop. They’d like to compete in the Olympics someday. We have our own gear; let us help.” Natasha gave her grandfather a look that said that it wasn’t really a request. “Go and get your friends and their gear. They’ll need backpacks and extra clothes.”

Natasha nodded. “We’re good. We’ve been ski camping up near Pocatona Lake a couple times last year and already once this. What time should we be back here?”

“As quickly as possible definitely by 9 o’clock,” her grandfather told her.

“I need to go back. It’s my train,” the fireman asserted. Pete shook his head. “You’ve done enough. On the map you skied something like 40 to 50 miles. In the Olympics that a ski marathon, and the trail wasn’t even groomed.” The trainman looked like he was going to protest, until the constable spoke up. “He can ride with me. He can switch off with Natasha in the basket. I know she knows how to run a team, so I want her with me. You and your volunteers will rope up behind us. I presume you know the area well?”

“I do. We run fire patrols along the tracks every spring and fall.” He went behind the counter and pulled out a drawer, appearing with a pair of topographic maps. “You said you were just started up a steep hill when it derailed?” The fireman nodded. “I’m betting it’s right here.” Pete pointed to a spot on the map. “Let’s finish breakfast and get moving.”

It was closer to 10 o’clock when the party actually set out; five volunteers and Pete holding onto rope loops behind the sledge bearing Rick, the fireman from the train, Natasha, who had helped the constable harness his dog team with the big golden Chinooks, and Constable Meyers himself. “We’re going to be moving fast, despite the load. It’s important that you keep your balance and communicate any issues with the skier in front of you. Take care of any personal needs now, because we’ll be making as few stops as possible until we reach Little Moose Station. And at the top of the hill leading down to the train itself we’ll stow the rope. On the map it looks like it will be safest that you ski down in front of the dogsled. Hold on tight and flow with the terrain. Let us pray together before we depart.” They all joined hands and the constable led them, “Precious Lord Jesus, accompany us in this journey that we are about to undertake. Be our guide and our protector; watch over us; preserve us from all accidents and dangers to soul and body; support us in our fatigue and aid us to sanctify it by offering all we do to God. Amen.” Each of the skiers took their loop, with Pete directly behind the dogsled, Natasha’s two friends behind him, a volunteer firefighter next, and the postal carrier, who was probably the most experienced skier in the group since he used the wooden boards to deliver the mail in the winter. Natasha joined the constable at the rear of the sled and Rick was wrapped in blankets and surrounded with food in the basket. And the snow kept falling.

When they reached Little Moose Station several hours later, the entire party crowded around the large cast-iron woodstove in the station’s main room. The constable pulled a pocket watch out of his red coat and shook his head. “What’s the matter?” Pete asked.

Nicholas shook his head again. “We’re running out of time. Peter, I need you to lead the skiers with the supplies in unroped. Rick, I’m sorry but you need to stay here at the train station. We have to travel light and fast. We’ll take the bag with the medication and the food that was already on the sledge.”

“What about me?” Natasha questioned.

“You, young lady, are coming with me.” The young woman’s eyes went wide. “If you’re warmed up sufficiently, let us go.”

Outside the station, Pete hugged his granddaughter. “You be careful. Your mother and grandmother would never forgive me if anything happens to you, but somehow, I trust Constable Meyers.”

“I know, Pop. We’ll be fine. My friend Sonja and the mailman Mr. Sherwood are excellent skiers. They can help you if you need it. We’ll see you at the train.” She glanced skyward. “If it’s any consolation, the snow seems to finally be stopping.” Tasha kissed his cheek, stepped on the back rail, and with a “Hike!” command, the dogsled shot into the darkness.

If they had been moving fast before, this next stage of the journey was even faster. Natasha kept peering into the darkness, thinking she was seeing something she knew could not be possible. She looked over at the constable. “Why me?”

“Pardon?” He looked back at her.

“I mean, why did you want me to accompany you on this part of the trip?”

Constable Meyer lowered his scarf so the young woman could see his lips and smiled. “I think you know the answer to that. Something happened in your life that prepared you for this night.”

She looked at him curiously and then her eyes lit up. “I know you,” she said with a smile that was visible even through her scarf. “When I was twelve.”

Nicholas grinned. “When you were twelve. When we get to the train, there is something in the basket for you. Actually, there are two of them; one is for Eve.”

Natasha thought for a few seconds. “The cloak.” The constable smiled slightly, pulled his scarf back up over his nose and looked straight ahead. A short time later, they crested the big hill that her grandfather had shown on the map, and at its base they could make out a largely snow-covered shape that could only be the train. Smoke rose lazily from the stack on the engine, and more vigorously from a chimney rising out of one of the passenger cars. A few minutes later they pulled up alongside the train, where one of the doors had been shoveled out to allow access.

“Whoa!” the constable commanded, and instantly the Chinooks obeyed. Natasha started to climb off the stanchions, but Nicholas stopped her. “Only step where they shoveled. Climb over the handlebar and grab the bag with the medicine and those two packages under it.” She did as directed, but before she could jump from the sled to the step into the train he stopped her again. “Just so you know, Natasha Joy, the day after tomorrow is Eve’s birthday. She’ll turn twelve. Our job is to make sure that she makes it.” Natasha nodded solemnly and hopped onto the step. Nicholas reached over and took two of the food packs and followed her onto the train.

The woodstove was doing an admirable job keeping the car warm. At the end closest to the stove, two women sat with the girl who appeared to be sleeping, but even in sleep her face was flushed with fever. “Oh, oh, thank God. Are you from the rescue team?”

“The rest of the team are on skis, and they will be here shortly. We are on a dogsled. The snow is finally stopping; however, it is in many places five and six feet deep. It will probably be Christmas Day before they can get all of you out of here. I’m here to take Eve to the hospital in Springfield. We have some medicine to help control her fever some, but we need to hurry. Time truly is of the essence here.”

“How long has she been unconscious?” Natasha, who, as a Forest Fire Tower Observer, had some first-aid training, asked.

“She goes in and out,” the mother replied. “When she is awake, she says she has seen angels and her late grandmother. She’s delirious with fever.”

“My mother and grandmother are both nurses and they taught me some things. Let’s see if she can swallow this medicine and then we’ll get her wrapped up to travel.”

The mother shook her head. “That’s why we’re on the train, Miss. Neither of us has anything warm enough to travel in the open to Springfield.”

Natasha smiled. “I think we can help with that.” She opened the top package she carried and unfolded a dark green cloak with white trim. “I promise, from experience, this will keep her warm all the way there and she can keep it afterwards. They say it was made by elves.”

“Thank you, but my,” the woman started, indicating her threadbare overcoat. Natasha opened the second package and unfurled a second, identical garment. “This is why I said, ‘my experience.’ This was mine when I was your daughter’s age, and it will keep you warm as well. Let’s get the two of you bundled up and out on the sled.”

Nicholas had finished distributing the food to the other passengers and assured them that more would be coming in addition to blankets and more warm clothing. They situated the mother and daughter in the sled and pulled the cover over them. “That was very generous of you, Natasha. If I can’t get it back…”

“If you can’t get it back, it was meant to be hers. Freely given, freely received. Be fast, be safe, and take care of,” she paused with a smile. “Christmas Eve. Go with God, Saint Nicholas. When you see my grandpa, tell them I’ll be waiting here for him, and don’t forget my skis so I can get out of here.”

Natasha smiled again as the eight dogs pulling the sled gained the top of the hill and vanished from her sight. She climbed the steps back into the train car to wait for her grandfather and the skiers.

“Miss?” A hand shook her shoulder. Natasha had dozed off while waiting. “Miss? I think you need to see this,” the conductor smiled at her and pointed to the window. Natasha roused herself and looked out onto the snowscape when movement on the hill above caught her eye. six skiers came over the hill and made beautiful S-turns down to the waiting train. She opened the door, and grinned down at her grandfather, and two best friends. “What kept you? We’ve been waiting.”

It was still dark when they left the train behind, and Nicholas could see that the mother had finally relaxed and fallen asleep, her child wrapped in her arms in the green cloak said to be made by elves. “Hey up!” he commanded the team. With a burst of speed, they shot into the air. Looking forward, now instead of the golden coats of the Chinooks, he saw eight pairs of antlers as reindeer pulled the sleigh into the sky and headed toward the hospital in Springfield. Looking down, he saw a pair of blue eyes looking up in wonder from the folds of the covers. “Santa Claus?” the girl asked. Nicholas smiled. “Close your eyes, little one. We’ll be there soon.”

“I think I figured you out, Constable,” Pete told him as the two men in their red wool coats stood at the south end of Long Bear Lake. “Thank you for what you did. The rotary plow reached the train yesterday afternoon and had everyone safely out in time for today, Christmas Eve. Latest word from the hospital is that Eve Christopher will be just fine. She’ll be in there for a few days but today is her twelfth birthday and somebody gave her a beautiful green cloak.”

“Speaking of beautiful, where’s your granddaughter? I hoped to wish her Merry Christmas before I left.”

“I’m right here,” Tasha said as she skied up in her grandfather’s tracks. “That was quite a ride the other night. Little Eve is telling everyone that she saw Santa Claus. Of course, her mom chalks it all up to the fever. I agree with Papa. We have you figured out.”

“You probably do, but don’t tell anybody.” He hugged the young woman and shook hands with her grandfather. “Until we meet again, Ranger,” he grinned at Natasha, “and Ranger-to-be. You are going have a great adventure of your own, Natasha Quinn. Godspeed.”

“Téigh le Dia, Nicholas Meyers, or should I say, Nicholas of Myra. You have a busy night ahead of you. Merry Christmas.”

They watched as the dog team headed out on the lake gaining speed, spraying the soft fresh snow behind them. The constable looked back at the couple on the shore and saluted, and Pete returned the salute. Then with an audible crack, the sled rose into the air and disappeared like a meteorite going the wrong way into the sky.”