“Ooof! Luther dropped the horse’s foot and shoved him away. “How am I supposed to check yer shoe if ya keep leanin’ on me, you dumb beast?”
The horse snorted and shook his mane.
“He ain’t dumb; are ya boy?” Unbob patted the big gelding’s ears. “Why, if you was any smarter, I bet you’d talk! I wonder what you’d say.”
Luther laughed. “Why don’t you stop by the livery tonight and listen to him?”
Unbob looked confused. “Whaddya mean? Horses can’t talk.”
“Sure they can, Unbob. Tonight’s Christmas Eve. All the beasts talk at midnight on Christmas Eve. Didn’t you know that?”
Unbob frowned at the big man. “Yer foolin’.”
Luther grinned. “No, I mean it; they really do.”
“Have you ever heard them?”
Luther laughed. “Well, not exactly. I usually go out drinkin’ with my buddies on Christmas Eve. By midnight, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a lamp post talk.”
Luther led the big bay into a stall and pitched in some hay for him. “Well, there’s a tall one with my name on it across the street. See ya round, Unbob.”
Unbob watched Luther cross the street and join a group of fellows outside the Ambrosia Club. Unbob shook his head. What if he was telling the truth? He couldn’t remember Luther ever lying to him. Hmmm, this might take a bit of detective work.
That night at about ten P.M., Unbob opened the livery door and peered inside. The horses were all standing quietly in their stalls, just like they did every night. Unbob closed the door behind him and headed for the straw stack in the corner. It was warmer in the livery than it was outside, but not by much, and he meant to burrow down in the straw and keep warm while he kept watch. If Luther was right, it wouldn’t be long until he heard the animals talk!
Unbob had left his lantern burning brightly, and for the first hour or so, he never took his eyes off the stalls. If something was going to happen tonight, he was going to see and hear it for himself. But as the night wore on, he began to get bored. He wished Luther was there to keep him company. Unbob didn’t have a timepiece, but he thought it must be very late. Even the noise from the saloon had quieted. Unbob wasn’t used to staying up so late, and his eyelids were getting very heavy, but he was determined not to close them even for a moment. If he missed it, it would be another whole year before he would have a chance to see if what Luther said was true.
Unbob wondered if it would be The Hell Bitch who talked first, or maybe Blackjack would start things off. Of course, it could be one of the stage horses – maybe the big gelding from this afternoon. Unbob figured he would just have to wait and see. He sighed and nestled deeper into the straw, grateful for the cozy warmth it provided.
A nickering came from one of the stalls, and the floorboards creaked when one of Mr. Bertram’s draft horses shifted its weight. Just the usual horse sounds. No human speech. Not yet anyway.
Then, softly, Unbob heard a voice say, “It’s time.”
“Has it come again then?” another voice asked.
Unbob could scarcely contain his excitement. He craned his neck to see who was speaking.
“Yes, it’s Christmas Eve,” the first voice answered. “It’s the holiest night of all the year.”
“But are we free to speak?” asked another. “There’s a human here.”
“It’s only Unbob. I don’t mind if he hears us.” Unbob watched Mosby’s chestnut toss his dark head and wondered if the voice could possibly be coming from him.
“Yes, it’s all right. Unbob believes,” the first voice said.
“Yes, yes, Unbob believes,” several more chimed in.
Unbob rubbed his eyes. He could scarcely believe it. The horses were talking!
“What’s a holy night?” came a voice from the far end of stalls. And Unbob recognized Jasper. He had been born in the spring, so this would be his first Christmas.
“It is the night when the Savior of mankind was born,” answered Blackjack.
“But what does that have to do with us?” asked the colt.
Now a voice came from the Hell Bitch’s stall. “The Savior was born in a stable, Jasper. His first bed was sweet smelling hay, just like you are eating right now.”
“Really?” asked the colt.
“Yes. And there were animals there all around him.”
“Even horses? Like us?” the colt asked eagerly.
“Yes, just like us,” the Hell Bitch answered him. “And they were honored to share the stable with him. They bowed before Him and paid Him homage.”
“What’s homage?’ asked Jasper.
“Worship,” answered Blackjack.
“Worship?” Jasper asked.
“Hush, young one, you ask too many questions,” the draft horse said, “Be still and listen, and you will learn. It is time.”
And as an incredulous Unbob watched, every horse in the stable bowed low, and from far off came sweet singing. The light grew brighter and brighter, until he had to cover his face with his hands. Then the singing stopped, and a clear voice rang out, “Peace on Earth. Good will to men. Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. ”
And then all was still.
##
“Wake up, Unbob. What are you doin’ here?”
Unbob sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Did you hear it, Call? Did you see it?”
“See what, Unbob? I see you. You’re covered in straw. Why’d you sleep in the livery? Somethin’ wrong at your place?”
“No, no. There was light, and singing, and voices. And, oh, they talked! They really talked! Luther said they would, and they did! Did you hear em, Call?”
“Now, hold on, Unbob. Are you hearin’ things? Maybe Luther was playin’ a trick on you.”
“No, it weren’t Luther. It weren’t nobody. The horses, all of ‘em, they talked, I swear! I heard it with my own ears!”
Call assumed a patient look. “Horses don’ talk, Unbob. You were dreamin’ is all.”
“No, it was real.” Unbob pointed at the stalls. “He talked, and she did, and so did he,” he finished, pointing at Jasper. “Don’t be tellin’ me they didn’t.”
“Now, settle down, Unbob.”
“Ya jist gotta believe me, Call!”
Call sighed. “All right, so they talked. What’d they say?”
“They said it was time.”
“Time for what, Unbob?”
“Time for Christmas. Time to remember the Babe who was born in the stable.”
“That all?”
Unbob’s eyes were wide with wonder. “There was another voice. It said, peace on earth. Good will to men. For behold, I bring you good tidings.” Unbob smiled as he looked at Call. “I think that one was an angel.”
Call put his arm around the simple man’s shoulders. “Come on, Unbob, I’ll buy you some breakfast.”
“Do you believe in angels, Call?” Unbob asked as he allowed himself to be led toward the Dove.
Call’s expression softened. “Mebbe.”
Unbob grinned. “Merry Christmas, Call.”
“Merry Christmas, Unbob.”
The End
12/05
