Cold Snap

Cold Snap by L. Hutson

Vermont during 1882 had been a challenging year. Farmers had been hit hard by drought, followed by heavy rains during the growing season. Now, going into the winter, many farmers would be affected by shortages of food and income.

To top everything off, I had to deal with my ten year-old son and his mischievous behavior. He was accompanying me to my Uncle's cabin in the mountain area north of Montpelier. I was desperate to get my son out of the area following his most recent escapade with a couple of older boys from the community where we lived.

My son had been a problem at his school and was so disruptive in class that his teacher had asked me to remove him until he made some changes. During his absence from schooling, he had filled his days hanging out with these two older kids who were even more disruptive to the community. Evidently, the small gang of boys, including my son, had decided to go hunting. Finding nothing to shoot at, they had shot a mule in the field of one of the regional farmers. They had decided to conceal the murdered mule in a ditch on the farm where it fell. After covering the body, they realized the animal was not totally concealed. Its legs were sticking out; so they decided to cut them off and bury them, also. The mule was worth a hundred and twenty-five dollars and I did not have the resources to pay the farmer who would surely find his mule. I had to get my son out of the area before the Sheriff could connect him to the foolish crime.

I would take him to my Uncle's place up in the mountain area of Vermont. There was a chill in the air left over from the already freezing temperatures of the evening. It was early December and winter was fast approaching. My son was belligerent the whole trip. I didn't know what to do with him; I was desperate.

Arriving at my Uncle's cabin, I explained to him my predicament and asked for his help. He seemed still hung over from the previous evening; but I gave him a twenty dollar gold piece and was instructed to return my son when he felt it would be safe. I only hoped no one would come here looking for him. My son just yelled out something obscene as I left. The uncle shut the door, pulling my son inside.

Little did I realize what my Uncle was planning? He had partied at a remote farm house deeper into the mountains the evening before. Deciding to take my son with him, he returned to the remote farmhouse again. This family had shared with my Uncle, the practice of storing their older relatives into hibernation during the winter months. Their farm had become poor because of crop output. It seems that the top soil on their sloped farmland had simply washed down into the surrounding creeks. Now, their only crop of corn did not provide them with enough food to feed the entire family through the winter.

On the prior evening they had selected four older men and two women to go into storage. They were given some potion to knock them out; then laid out on the floor and stripped of clothing except for long underwear. Carried outside by the other family members, they were left out on the porch for the entire night. The freezing temperatures made quick work of them as their hands and faces turned white during the evening. My uncle went out to check on them at one point; but came back inside because of the cold and the shocking state of the bodies. Everyone inside was partying with the moonshine they had made from the meager corn crop; so my Uncle decided to partake. The next day while leaving, he had noticed them burying the frozen bodies in special wooden boxes; lined with beds of straw; their faces covered with cloth. The lids were nailed shut and then covered with a small layer of dirt. During the winter, these would be covered with twenty inches of snow. In the spring, they would remove them and go through a process to thaw them out.

My uncle showed up with my son to their door that next day and told them he needed for them to put my son into storage like the others had been. He handed them the twenty dollar gold piece for their efforts. Turning to leave, they told him to return May tenth to pick him back up. My son angrily yelled at my Uncle as he disappeared into the cabin.

On the tenth of May, he returned to the farmhouse and went up onto the hill where the family was busy uncovering their frozen relatives; the young boy among them. They gently took each frozen body out of the boxes and placed them into a shallow ditch lined with Hemlock branches. Pouring boiling water into the trenches, the water turned to a wine color. Slowly their natural skin tones began returning to limbs and fingers. They each were given small amounts of moonshine and their eyes slowly opened. Helping them up, they were escorted into the cabin and given a hearty meal; their first meal in over four months. Soon they were walking around; seeming in better health than ever. The older relatives began doing chores around the cabin; some of the men went out into the fields to help with spring planting. My son and my uncle left to return to Montpelier; never really talking much on their trip back.

I thanked my Uncle for hiding my son. The Sheriff had given up pursuing him over the dead mule.

On my son's return to school that next semester, he went right to the front of the class. His conduct in class was so attentive and courteous that his teacher sought me out after the class was over.

"Your son is so well mannered and his participation in the class is exemplary. How did you get him to change?" the teacher asked.

"He spent some time with my Uncle these past few months. He just seemed to snap out of the mindset he was in." I responded.

My Uncle never told me the story of the frozen people; but left it in a diary for me to find years after his passing.