A Rocky Mountain Christmas

PROLOGUE

Lambert Field, St. Louis, Missouri—

December 20, 1961

Rebecca Daniels Robison awaited her flight in the comfort of the Admiral’s Lounge. A huge Christmas tree sparkled with blinking lights and shining ornaments and Christmas music played softly over the lounge speakers. Rebecca was reading the newspaper when she was approached by a very attractive young woman.

“Ambassador Robison? My name is Margaret Chambers, and I’m a reporter for the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. I wonder if you would consent to an interview?”

“Why would you want to interview me, dear? I’m no longer an ambassador.”

“No, but you are still active on the international scene, and a recent poll put you as the country’s most admired woman.”

“Nonsense, my dear. Eleanor Roosevelt is the most admired woman.”

Margaret laughed. “You came in second, and Mrs. Roosevelt doesn’t count. She’s been the most admired woman for the last thirteen years.”

“And rightly so,” Rebecca said. “She has certainly been most gracious to me, over the years.”

A voice came over the intercom. “Attention passengers, all flights are on temporary hold until the runways can be cleared of snow.”

“I was about to say there wouldn’t be time for an interview,” Rebecca said. “But it appears that my flight has been delayed, so I would be happy to talk to you. I suppose you want to hear about my time as ambassador to Greece.”

“No, ma’am,” Margaret said. “I’m doing a story for our special Christmas edition. I understand you once had a most harrowing Christmas experience when you were a child.”

“Harrowing? Yes, I suppose it was, though that’s not exactly the word I would use. But it was also the most uplifting experience of my life.”

“Could you share that story with our readers?”

“How much do you know about that incident?”

“Hardly anything. Just that you’ve been very reluctant to discuss it in all these years and that you’ve turned down every request for it. Your father was a U.S. Senator then . . .”

“A state senator in Colorado,” Rebecca corrected.

“Yes, thank you. According to what little information exists, you and your family were on a train going from Pueblo to Red Cliff, Colorado, during a blizzard.”

“That’s correct. But that is only part of the story. If I told you everything, I’m afraid you would have a very difficult time believing it. Which is why I have never told the story before.”

Margaret held her little narrow reporter’s pad on her knee and raised her pencil, poised to take notes. “Why don’t you try me? I would love to hear the entire stor y.”

“Margaret, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, since my plane is delayed, Margaret, I will tell you the whole story of that Christmas so long ago. I’m almost eighty years old and don’t much care if people think I’m a crazy old lady or not. I guess now is as good a time as any to finally tell it. “

“Thank you, Ambassador Robison.”

“Let’s sit down, Margaret. And please, no questions until I am done.”