Silent Hero

Ho Ho Ho

         Fifteen Santa’s leave the mission house at eight every morning.  Each one hefting a tripod and collection pot, they also sported signs on their backs saying ‘Help The Mission House, Helping The Needy!’

         They traveled all over the town to their assigned locations.  Old Ed Cassidy had the corner of Wittier and Fifth Street, in front of Harry’s Barber Shop and Marshals Jewelry Emporium.  Ed traveled by bus and arrived at a quarter to ten, sets up the tripod and hangs the bucket.  Every day the two barbers come out and put a dollar each in, but nothing from the jewelry store.   

         Twenty years ago, Ed would have filled the costume easily, now he needs padding.  He’s been down on his luck for a while; the mission is his last chance before living on the street, it offers room and board.  In return he cooks, cleans, serves and works seasonal jobs for spending money.  Ed is getting five dollars a day to dress up and collect for the cause.

         Five days till Christmas, the cold winter winds penetrate and chill to the bone.  Mark, one of the barbers, comes out every so often and brings Ed a coffee.  The day moves along slowly, today there are quite a number of donations, more than normal.

         He rings his bell and chants, “Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!”  Speaking with the passers by, listening to the requests from the passing children, sometimes hearing their sad stories. He truly believed that his presence was making a difference in someone’s life.

         On this day, it is brutally cold and very windy.  Ed steps into the barbershop to warm up when a black SUV with darkened windows pulls up, the door swings open and out runs a man in a Santa Suit.  He sprints across the sidewalk into the Jewelry Store, Ed stares in disbelief when he hears a number of gunshots.  He steps out of the storefront and waits, looking into the open door of the SUV, the driver is looking over his shoulder, directly at ED. 

         The front door of the Jewelry store slams open and out comes the other Santa, basketball size pouch in one hand and gun in the other.  Ed threw himself in front of his feet; the thief fell over him, his gun and bag of loot splaying out all over the sidewalk.  Ed lays there, eyes shut tight, waiting for the shot, expecting to be killed.  The burglar alarm was ringing loudly; the SUV sped off, running footsteps all around.  Someone was yelling that. “That Damn Santa Did It!”

         “Police!  Remain where you are, don’t move!”  Ed opened his eyes and looked around to find two police officers pointing their weapons at him and the other man.  The owner of the Marshals was holding his arm, blood running out all over the ground.  “One of those Santa’s did it.  Maybe both,” He pointed at Ed.  “He’s been out here checking us out for a week now!”

         After slapping cuffs on both of them, they lifted Ed and the man to their feet.  They removed the beards, headgear and searched them.  They found Ed’s ID and permit to collect money in his pocket.  Two police cruisers pulled up along with a Van.  Ed was beginning to worry about getting caught up in the investigation. 

         “He’s alright, just called the mission and they confirmed his ID.”  Removing Ed’s cuffs, he looked at the mess of Jewelry on the ground, then up at the other man.  He was a young white man, maybe Spanish, bald with tattoos all over his neck and head.

         The young man looked at Ed with arrogance and anger. “What chui look’n at old man. You fucked up my act, I kin git chui Mutha Fu..”  They pushed him into the back of a cruiser and drove off.

         Mr. Marshal called Ed over to apologize, “Sorry sir, I didn’t see what you had done.”  He shook Ed’s hand.  “I am very sorry to have accused you, throwing yourself in front of him not only saved my inventory, you saved all my employees jobs also.”   

         “Excuse me?”  Ed was puzzled about saving the jobs.

         “It’s been a very bad season for shopping.  Loosing that inventory would have broken me for this month and forced me into bankruptcy.”  Still holding and shaking Ed’s hand, he added.  “You saved everything.”

         As the police finished their business, each one dropped money into Ed’s pot.  Witnesses and store employees also came out and made donations.

         It was turning dark, everyone was leaving; Ed carried his tripod and full pot back to a local diner, ordered pie and coffee.  He noticed something white in the opening of the pot.  Fishing it out he discovered a check and hand written note.  The check was for one thousand dollars; the note read.

         ‘Don’t cash before January 15th, it’ll bounce.  Thank you very much, you have a Very Merry Christmas Santa and have a great New Year.  Harold Marshal.  Marshals Jewelers.’

         When he got back to his room he tucked the note into the case with his Bronze Star and two Purple Hearts, on January sixteenth he presented one thousand dollars to the mission.

Word Count =  867