The Lost Winter Of Lyla Strauss
















"The Lost Winter Of Lyla Strauss"


In this coming of age story, set in the Yukon of the year 1850: fur trapper and orphan he raised come face to face with the transformative dimensions of their relationship, from tragedies through time’s passage. 
Escaping the world of his past, Dancy Ruelaix ventured into the solitude of wilderness. 
Wanting to evade opening his heart to another human being, he always thought he never needed anyone. But, there was one person who could not live without him. 
Her name was Lyla Strauss. 
A season of change comes in “The Lost Winter of Lyla Strauss”.


Coulton Hollister was speechless in the presence of Dancy Ruelaix, as he did not know what to say to him. 

Younger man’s reaction to him was more than enough in words not spoken, for Dancy Ruelaix lived with this reaction all of his life. 

Dancy Ruelaix was a Negro. 

As he walked further towards the fireplace with a fresh supply of wood in his arms, a somber cloud of observation wafted from the area where the injured man stood. 

Lyla was in the same cabin as these two men, but didn’t comprehend that weight of this moment. 

She was blind to what was right in front of her eyes, while this Negro was not. 

He knew that look. 

Dancy Ruelaix had seen the look in a white man’s eyes more times than he could ever forget. Being a male of height and obvious presence, Dancy Ruelaix knew the feeling of seeming as tiny as the wisp of an eyelash in the denigrating eyes of a white man. 

Without a word being said; that look of inhumanity, hatred, judgment, belittlement, and bypass settled onto the being of Dancy Ruelaix. 

Rolling the pieces of lumber and twigs into a medium sized pile next to the right side of the fireplace he waited for the stranger in his home to speak first. 

Out of the side of his left eye, Dancy saw that words were not the primary mode of communication by this injured man; for Coulton was slowly reaching for the branch next to that bed, which he was using as a crutch to assist in walking. 

Dancy’s internal radar picked up on that twitch of fear radiating from Hollister, as that quaking hand began to cradle that branch. 

Ruelaix wasn’t going to flinch or cower in his own home, for he had worked too long and too hard to establish himself on the trading post and in Callaway. 

In the end, if there was one man leaving that cabin it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the person who put his blood, sweat, tears, and tenacity to survive the bitterest of nature’s elements over those many years. 

Coulton Hollister’s mind wasn’t as clear as his eyesight in seeing this Negro before him. 

Dancy decided to clear the air and the cobwebs of the man who he and Lyla had saved, “So, what’s your name, stranger?” 

At the bottom of that ravine at Banyon Pass, it was Coulton Hollister who hadn’t a clue of who pulled him out of death’s jaws. 

Caught off guard in hearing Dancy speak to him, this man didn’t know how to react and was silent for a few moments. 

“My name is…” His back stiffened, as he remained in mental fog of coming to terms with what happened and how to ended up in this cabin, “…Coulton Hollister, sir”. 

“Well”, Dancy placed a few twigs onto the fire and added, “It’s good to see you are still among the living”. 

She spoke softly, “Death’s door is where you were when we pulled you out of that ravine”, Smiling at him. 

Coulton breathed deeply, “I felt like I was dead, Miss…” He smiled back at her. 

Young woman of 20 years old with long, brown hair and eyes to match was cloaked in a billowy white garment and conveyed a caring way to this bruised man. 

Only having slight contact with him since he’d woken up she made an introduction to this man, “I’m Lyla…Lyla Strauss, Mr. Hollister”.

Hearing her name was quite pleasurable to his ears, as he returned the courtesy of this woman’s kindness and care, “Please, after everything you have done for me, call me Coulton, Miss Lyla”. 

Lyla laughed, having never been called Miss by anyone before. “Just Lyla…I am just Lyla”. Feeling slightly out of sorts in that label he just said, she tightened a white sash around that robe to express her modesty in the moment with a man she did not know. 

Ruelaix wanted to keep Lyla out of the middle of any possible confrontation that would happen between himself and the other man as he thought of a way to get her out of the area. 

Dancy tossed a log onto the fire, as he made a suggestion, “Lyla? I think after what the man’s been through and coming out of it, he’s probably hungrier than a wolf”, He nodded to her. 

She replied with a nod to him also, “The pantry’s almost empty, but I guess there’s something I can dig up”.

Lyla went into pantry just beyond the front room of the cabin, as both men were left alone. 

Coulton watched as she was out of sight from either of them, “I…I don’t know what to say” His left hand reflexively touched that crutch, as if a piece of wood were going to balance the power equation between a fit man and a wounded one.  

“Oh”, Dancy placed fingertips of both hands slightly against his own hips as he then turned his back to toss more twigs onto that fire, “I think a man’s actions speak louder than anything”. 

Ruelaix began warming his hands in front of that fire, feeling Hollister’s eyes burning into the back of his head. He knew there was one thing that could grab Coulton’s attention back to civility, “Good thing we were collecting some traps by Banyon Pass, young man” Dancy turned around to faced him with a fearless gaze. 

Hollister may have been decades younger than Ruelaix, but the older man had one asset on his side – his health. 

Cockiness was the barren refuge of the fool. Gratitude was the burgeoning expanse of the wise.
 
Pulled back from the edge of that cliff of arrogance, Coulton rethought that original impulse of reckless violence and removed his hand from that branch.

Afraid and confused over the man standing before him and how he was taken to this cabin outside of Callaway, he wanted to know more, “There’s only one thing I need to say…” He let out a sigh and swallowed, “Thank you, Mr. Ruelaix. For saving my life” Humbling himself with earnest gratitude, Coulton Hollister smiled and placed his hand out to Dancy Ruelaix, “If it wasn’t for you and Miss – I mean Lyla, I would have met my maker”. 

Dancy walked over to him and calmly spoke, “God has a plan for all of us, Coulton”, He shook his hand slowly and touched on a subject that was so obvious on Hollister’s mind, “I know the last kind of person you thought you’d see here would be somebody like me”. 



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