text: Elsie and her new puppy, “Teddybear,” gazed at the first winter's snow falling like white cotton balls on the lighthouse. Her eyes widened, her breath slowed, the corners of her mouth turned up, and she felt a sense of wonder. Earlier, on the grey, drizzling morning, their trail guide had the horses saddled and the pack horses waiting for Elsie's family when they got to the corrals. Smells of horses, hay, salty ocean air, and Douglas Firs blended into a fragrance that Elsie found pleasing. The river lapped at the shores and fir trees studded the sand dunes. Elsie's mother, Jeannie, saw that her husband, Joseph, and the three kids looked fresh-faced and eager, despite the long journey they had made. Today their new home at a lighthouse keeper’s house awaited. Anticipation wiped fatigue away. “The weather is doing what it usually does this time of the year. You’ll get used to it,” said Andy, the trail guide. “We can’t put off the ride because it is like this most of the winter.” It was 1898 on the central Oregon coast, at the village of Mystic Beach, nestled in a curve of the river that met the Pacific Ocean a few miles to the west. A few days ago, the family crossed the wide river on a large raft made of logs strapped together, dragged by lines from the shores to pull it back and forth. Blue herons who were standing in the river shallows watched them. Egrets in tall reeds flew away like a white cloud when the raft got too close. Jeanie, Joseph, and the kids had crossed rivers before on their way from the countryside outside Austin, Texas. They may have started out a little soft, but now even the kids never blinked. Back in the ranch swimming hole they had learned how to float and paddle a little. Their skills would be no match for this mighty river if they fell into the cold water, but their travels had taught them toughness and grit. At the barn, they loaded the pack horses with their supplies and belongings. Flour, oats, coffee, sugar, tea, cornmeal, beans, and other foods were in watertight containers. When Jeanie’s family joined the other families at the lighthouse keepers’ houses, there would be a root cellar under one of the houses, with more provisions in the cool underground room. Jeanie looked at the pack horses and drew in a breath. They had left a trail of belongings along the way from central Texas, tossing heavy objects away like they were in a sinking boat in the ocean. It was hard to let go of treasures that evoked memories. But Jeanie also felt a new lightness with the sense of letting go and starting fresh. Now they made their way on horseback over the trails to the lighthouse. All the shades of greens surrounded them in the wet Douglas Fir forest. The sky was blue-gray. From the coast trails, they could glimpse views of the beacon shining through the December fog and rain as it rotated. Douglas Firs bent over against the sky when the hurricane-force winds caught their boughs. “We’re in for it now,” growled a low voice coming from Andy's thin figure on his grey horse. He was used to guiding riders and pack horses along the 15-mile trail from the village to the lighthouse. The horses knew the routine. Calm, plain looking, wiry but strong, the horses kept their honest eyes on the trail, heads low, ears relaxed but forward, stepping carefully. Their long, ragged winter coats ruffled in the wind. “Are we gonna be ok?” The voice came from Elsie, hidden beneath her bundle of coats, winter hat, and heavy scarf. She was holding the reins in one hand and holding the bulky coats closed tightly across the chest. “It’s going to be all right, Elsie,” called Joseph. Elsie clutched her coat tightly and felt relieved no one had noticed what she was hiding inside the layers against her chest. When the woman at the horse barn ran up to her, the little puppy was buried in both of her hands. Big puppy eyes peered out. The woman said, “Please, give him a home. Shepherd mix. He’ll be your best friend. His name is Teddybear.” Elsie’s hazel eyes met the round eyes of the puppy. The woman thrust the dark, shaggy puppy into Elsie’s arms and grabbed Elsie’s coat to cover it up. “Just don’t tell your parents until you get to the lighthouse,” the woman said. The warm little body cuddled up against Elsie’s chest and two sets of eyes gazed at each other. Elsie was overcome with feelings. She squeezed the puppy into the big storage pocket inside her parka, where the little dog was cuddled against her. The bulky clothes hid any bulges. Andy looked at the sky and felt twinges creep down his spine. His weathered face drooped, the narrow brown eyes scanning the clouds. He had two years of experience bringing supplies and lighthouse workers to the bluffs hundreds of feet above the sea. The sky was sending a warning now. “Hunker down and keep going," yelled Joseph when another gale roared through the forest. “Wait,” a hollar came from Elsie's small figure. She grabbed a long mane and clung to the neck of her reddish-chestnut horse. “Elsie, you need to keep up, come on slow poke,” came a young boy’s voice. “I’ll get you for this, Jack.” Elsie's voice was thin in the wailing wind. The silhouettes of the riders in their bulky clothing, the horses, and the pack horses were buffeted by the squalls. To the west tall waves with whitecaps crashed, and deep swells rolled in the dark ocean, which blended into the horizon. To the east ragged cliffs rose on steep mountains. The horses splashed over the flooded trail. “Let’s turn back, please Father, Mother,” came another young boy’s voice. “We can’t Edward. The lighthouse keepers need us. Especially now.” Joseph's deep voice was almost drowned out by a new gust of wind with rain. He knew maintaining the oil and the wicks was critical during the stormy winter so the beacon could warn the ships of the rough coastline. His mind held a sense of wonder at the thought of the beacon. "392 prism...Fresnel lens...80,000 candle power...the brightest beacon on the Oregon coast." Joseph couldn't wait to take care of it, see it, polish it. Known as the “graveyard of the Pacific,” the Oregon coast in 1898 now had a string of lighthouses at intervals. “Jeanie, you lead and I’ll be in the rear to keep watch.” Joseph’s voice continued. The trail dipped and ahead they saw sand dunes leading to a wide beach. It was low tide. “Hurry, we need to get around that point on the cliffs before the high tide rolls in or it will catch us,” yelled Joseph. Jeanie felt the sting of the raindrops like pins on her face. Years ago, outside Austin Texas, she fell in love with an adventurous, brave man, who caught her imagination with his stories of what a life with him might hold. She turned and looked back at her husband, bringing up the rear of the group. He lifted a hand and moved it. That was the thing about Joseph. She was no longer alone. He always seemed to sense her and respond. Someone who saw her, heard her, knew her feelings. In the rain and cold Joseph felt a warmth inside when he and Jeanie shared glances. He knew true love really did exist. Whatever life sent his way, he would battle through it for the love of his life and the children. They were his dreams come true. Jeanie’s bones felt chilled now, despite the layers of clothing, and her adrenaline surged as she watched the trail, rocking slightly in the saddle, moving her right hand to neck rein the horse around a turn in the path. Between the horse’s ears, she saw the ocean framed. Her skin prickled with fear and her heart jumped with excitement. “No more endless days of boredom ,” she thought. “ We might have to fight to survive, but we’ll be happy. Every day we will be thrilled to be alive.” Jeanie pictured the life they left behind on the isolated ranch in central Texas. She saw herself following the manual labor routines each day. Joseph’s parents meant well, but living on the ranch with their constant supervision and criticism was a crushing experience. “We’ll still have hard, physical work,” she thought. “ But to live on the ocean will be worth it.” She knew giving up the inheritance so Joseph’s brothers could have it all, and moving to begin a new life of their own, was the only way to be happy. Joseph needed freedom for his spirit to soar and she did too. Jeannie saw the kids were swaying along on their horses behind her. Growing up on a ranch meant they rode as well as they walked. Jack and Edward were at home on horseback. Elsie's favorite pretend game was galloping around rearing and neighing, pawing the air, tossing her head, and throwing her hair like a mane in the wind. Every day Elsie invented new horse names and stories to act out. Neighbors in Texas lived far away, and Elsie was used to entertaining herself. Elsie felt the puppy move and she said to it, “Not too far now, little baby. I’ll take care of you, love.” She and the puppy rocked together moving easily with the horse's back at each step. The motion was lulling and the puppy had slept most of the way. Her brothers had each other for playing and sharing activities. Elsie's parents were overwhelmed with the duties of survival. She often felt lonely. But now, cuddling her little puppy inside the parka next to her chest, she knew she had a best friend. At the rear Joseph led the pack train carrying their supplies and belongings. Once he thought he saw a Black Bear disappearing into the trees. Another time a coyote gazed at them from a hill and trotted calmly away. The volcanic rock of the cliffs stretched skyward on one side of the group and the rolling hills of sand on the dunes was on the other side. The dense fir trees of the rainforest became more scattered along the trail. Rain created waterfalls splashing down the cliffs. Openings in the reddish volcanic rock led to caves the width of several horses and taller than a person on horseback. Boulders and smaller rocks were scattered next to the cliffs. “Watch out for mud and rock slides,” called Joseph. “Okay,” came voices through the wind. Reaching the trail’s entrance to the beach, the group looked quietly at the darkening skies. Raindrops and wind hit their solemn, determined faces. But their eyes were shining while they pictured themselves at their new home. It was only a few more miles. The last trek along the trail to the lighthouse keepers’ houses led along the beach at low tide. They had to round several prominent volcanic rock outcrops that reached into the ocean. By land the only route would have been many miles inland, going around plunging ravines hundreds of feet deep, and climbing steep mountain trails that were impassible during winter’s torrents of rain. Andy looked at the waves as the whitecaps rose taller than a house now, spewing their spindrift high into the sky. The swells must be over 20 ft. If any ships were out there in this he felt sorry for them. His face grew serious as he contemplated the breakers crashing on the beach. Each set of waves crept closer across the tidepools. It was later in the day than he thought. The large group had moved slowly and they were behind schedule. Arrival had to be timed to hit the beach at the lowest tide so they could ride around the outcroppings on the sand. When the tide flowed in it covered the sandy path and the ocean currents burst with explosions against the rocks. Anyone caught in the currents would be drawn under and swept away like a figure picked up by a tornado. “This doesn’t look good,” Andy said. Joseph had ridden up next to him. “See the beach at that corner?” Andy pointed. “How do we get through that?” Joseph said, wondering if there was a path leading over the rugged volcanic rocks. Ripples of ocean water were already surging closer to the rocks, covering the beach. The currents made the waves hiss as they snaked up the beach, closer and closer. “We’ve missed the low tide. We took too long getting here,” said Andy. “What now?” asked Joseph. “We wait. Overnight. Camping until the tide goes out.” Andy’s face in the rain and wind looked grim. “I know some caves nearby. We’ll stay there,” he said. “Follow me.” The dark sky let loose with raindrops that pelted them like bullets that stung even through the heavy clothing. The chilly day became colder. The wind howled and nearly pushed them off their horses. “Go this way,” Andy yelled. Their horses picked their way carefully over a rocky terrain. They saw three caves and one had a large, wide mouth. “We’ll camp in there,” said Andy. He rode into the cave and they followed. Inside the air was still while the wind and rain roared outside. The group dismounted and tied the horses to a line strung across the cave that was tied to boulders on the sides. Late afternoon was bringing their appetites to the forefront. Andy set two rocks several feet apart and set another flat rock across them like a table. He brought some dried moss from his waterproof pouch and set it under the rock slab. Spinning two dry sticks from his pouch together he got a small bit of smoke to appear on the moss. He blew softly and it grew until they had flames. Everyone gathered around the fire as it grew. The light cast shadows on them as they held their hands out to the warmth. “Here, use this,” said Joseph. He unpacked dried salmon jerky, beans, water in containers, and a pot. He started a stew on top of the flat rock slab. Elsie and her brothers squatted near the fire. The warmth began to reach their cold faces. Inside her coat, she felt the puppy squirm. She knew he would need to get out for a while. “I’ll be back,” she said, walking further into the cave. “Be careful, honey,” said Jeanie. “Don’t go far.” “I won’t," Elsie’s voice came from the shadows. She opened her coat and took the puppy out when she was beyond the sight of the group at the campfire. Teddybear's little head fit just right under her chin and he leaned against her. She pressed him against her cheek and gave him a little kiss. His tiny tongue slid across her face and she smiled. “I know, Teddybear, you need to stretch those legs,” she said. She set him on the ground and he scampered around by her feet. Around a bend, she felt a draft and saw light streaming down into the cave from above. A drumming sound reached her ears. The rain had turned to hail. It was coming into the cave from an opening in the ceiling. Elsie walked closer, looking up through the cave’s opening at the sky. Now white flakes began appearing. The first snow of the year. She picked up Teddybear and climbed over rocks to get a better look. Barking sounds like dogs came to her along with the wails of the wind. " Sea lions, " she thought. With Teddybear tucked into the parka’s storage pocket, she popped her head through the opening. Below about a hundred feet away sea lions sat sheltered in a cove on the rocks. Ocean spray flew into the air farther out. Snowflakes like cotton balls fell from the sky, piling up on the rocky shore. Across the late afternoon seas, a beam of light like a star swung across the opening of the cave while Elsie watched. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opening into a circle shape. “There it is. The lighthouse.” The whiteness of the snowflakes and the light of the beacon shining through them across the waves made Elsie draw in a deep breath. It was another world. Her new life. Through the falling white stood a tall white cylinder with a red roof, high on a bluff, with a brilliant beacon light rotating. Strong flashes lit up the ocean and shore as the light bathed the areas each time it went around. The sea lions were diving into the water now, disappearing into the swirling waves, heading for deeper shelter. Elsie took Teddybear out of the storage pocket and hugged him close. “You’re gonna be ok, little baby. And I am too,” she said. The long journey seemed to fall away like a forgotten other life, and the ten-year-old little girl felt her heart fill with excitement. She held Teddybear up to her face and gave him a kiss on his squishy nose. The snowflakes sparkled like stars, and the lighthouse beacon swung around and shined on Elsie and Teddybear. Elsie cradled the little puppy in her arms. "Look Teddybear," said Elsie. The puppy gazed up into the eyes of the ten-year-old little girl. "There's your new home. You're going to be a happy little puppy and we will love each other sooooooo much."