Guides in the Snow

It was just a couple days before Christmas, 1860. Dr. John O’Brien, a country doctor practicing in rural Missouri, had just sat down to supper with his wife, Elizabeth. The meal Elizabeth had made was perfect fare for a cold, blustery winter’s night—hot fried chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and bread fresh out of the oven. But Dr. O’Brien could only pick at his food.

The young doctor was famous in the area for his intuition, a sense that went far beyond duty to his patients. And that intuition was niggling at him now, telling him to visit one of his patients. Mrs. Kilpatrick had heart trouble, and if she was in distress, care couldn’t wait until morning.

O’Brien set his fork down and explained to Elizabeth that he had to go see his patient. Elizabeth nodded her understanding, but cast a worried glance at the snow spitting against the window.

O’Brien dressed warmly for the ride, but even so, the blizzard’s winds swirled fiercely around him, cold fingers seeking a way into his heavy overcoat and under his thick woolen scarf. He made his way to the stable and hitched his sturdy horse to the buggy.

The howling winds and driving snow hit him full force when he turned out of his lane and onto the road. O’Brien gripped the reins with his fur-lined gloves and urged the horse forward, praying that the beast could keep his footing on the slippery road.

The familiar landmarks were buried under drifts of snow. O’Brien peered through the swirling flakes, trying to see the turn he had to take to get to the zigzag path to the Kilpatrick’s house. His sense of duty to his patient throbbed, but the storm raged fiercely around him. If he took the wrong road, he’d be wandering the countryside for hours in the cold and dark. Should he just give up and head for home?

Just then, he heard a noise under the howl of the wind. It sounded like the barking of a dog—a big dog. No, not just one; there were two of them.

Then, in the shallow pool of yellow light cast by his buggy lantern, O’Brien saw them. They were two big black dogs, God only knew what breed, one on each side of his horse. The horse snorted and stamped, but didn’t bolt from the huge beasts.

The dogs barked again, and bounded off through the snow, their shaggy black bodies easy to see as they moved through the white drifts. They must belong to some family around here, O’Brien thought as he touched the horse into a fast walk. He didn’t remember the Kilpatricks having big dogs like these, but maybe they were working animals, not allowed indoors.

The dogs kept up their barking, looking back over their shoulders, almost as if they were making sure O’Brien was following them. The doctor decided to trust his intuition once again … and he followed the big black dogs.

The dogs waited patiently for the buggy to catch up, leading the horse down the winding road to the Kilpatricks’ home. O’Brien doubted he would have found the turnoff without the dogs’ help. Finally, a light glimmered in the distance, and the doctor allowed himself a sigh of relief. Moments later, he saw a candle in the window of the Kilpatrick’s house. He pulled up, parked his buggy in the shed with a pat for his faithful horse, and went up and knocked on the door.

Mr. Kilpatrick opened the door. “Dr. O’Brien! What on earth!”

The doctor shrugged out of his snow-crusted overcoat. “I had a feeling, that’s all. How is Mrs. Kilpatrick?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. That intuition of yours, it’s sure a blessing. We owe you thanks for coming out on such a vicious night.”

The doctor warmed his hands briefly at the fire, then went in to see his patient. As her husband had said, Mrs. Kilpatrick was doing poorly. Her breathing was labored, and her color wasn’t good. O’Brien reached for her wrist and felt for her pulse.

“Thank god you’re here, Doctor,” the woman mumbled. “I had the strangest dream about you. Dreamed you were driving in a storm, with two great black beasts at your side…”

Her voice trailed off as O’Brien stared at her. Numbly he noted her low, thready pulse. He turned to his bag and rummaged through it, looking for the packet of heart medicine. He mixed it in water and eased his patient up to drink it. Soon, her breathing eased, her pulse grew steady, and she drifted into sleep.

It was then that O’Brien realized that he hadn’t heard the dogs bark in some time.

As he gratefully accepted a late meal from Mr. Kilpatrick, O’Brien asked him about his dogs. The man shrugged. He didn’t own dogs like that, nor did anyone in the area.

The doctor spent the night watching over his patient. The next morning, Christmas Eve, she was well out of danger. As O’Brien drove home, he kept a sharp watch for the big black dogs. He even whistled and shouted for them a few times, but they had vanished with the blizzard’s winds.

He never saw the dogs again.