There’s no other way to say it. On Christmas morning, 1929, something extraordinary happened in Hayford, Idaho. That particular morning the sign at the city limits read “Population 54 2,” which did not include the Rodriguez baby.

Like much of the United States, Hayford had fallen on tough times. Fred Hayes and Hank Ford, longtime partners in Hayford Copper Company had closed the mine in the aftermath of the stock market crash, but only after a heated argument that was never resolved. This was followed by a public shouting match between their wives, Tammy and Mimi, at the grocery store. From that moment the two families pretended the other didn’t exist.

The worst moments were at church. The various branches of the Hayes and Ford families made up about half of the congregation of the little brick Presbyterian Church on Main Street. As the silence between the families deepened and spread, the Hayes clan took up Sunday morning residence on the lectern side of the sanctuary. That left the Fords in front of the preacher on the pulpit side. And though the middle aisle measured only six feet across, it might as well have been the Jordan River.

The funny thing was, the Hayes and the Fords were both good people. They were generous, regularly welcomed people into their large homes, served faithfully on various committees and generally sang on key in worship.

It was from church that they all came to know Joe Rodriguez, his wife Alicia and their three young children. They had slipped into the back of church one Sunday morning, and kept coming back, though they felt free to sit wherever they pleased from week to week.

The Rodriguez’ had moved to Hayford the day the mine shut down. It was a very bad timing. In the best of times, Joe had built houses. In these worst of times, he picked up any odd work he could, including shoveling manure in the spacious Hayes barns or turning over the rich black earth in the large Ford gardens. In all times, Joe and Alicia barely scraped by. They lived in a small house at the edge of Hayford, a neat enough place but not nearly big enough for a family.

On the afternoon of December 24th, Joe was staring at a poster tacked up outside the general store. He read slowly, pausing to take in all of the exclamation points:

“Circus coming! Christmas extravaganza! Two days only!
Exotic animals, Highwire acts! Starts December 26th!”

The circus would be in the city just a couple of hours from Hayford. Joe sighed, wishing he could take his kids but knowing a circus was the last thing they could afford right now, especially with another baby due in just a month. As he walked away, the first flake of snow appeared out of the graying sky and melted on his well-worn jacket.

“Hey, Joe!” It was Pastor Jacobsen crossing the street, fishing pole in hand.

Joe smirked. “Anything biting down there?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. Pastor couldn’t catch a fish at a hatchery.

“Nothing,” the pastor answered. “Flat out nothing. How’s Alicia?”

“Not great,” Joe admitted. “She’s not due for over a month, but she’s been having some pains already.”

“That’s hard, Joe. We’re sure praying. Keep us posted, will you?”

“Oh, sure,” Joe said, trying hard not to let on just how worried he was. Desperately wanting to change the subject, Joe looked up and squinted his eyes. “Looks like snow, doesn’t it?”

It sure did. By the time Joe had walked home, his old boots were leaving footprints in a thin blanket of white.

In Joe’s dreams that night, somebody was pounding on his door. Since it was a dream, he knew he didn’t have to answer it. But the knocking persisted until Alicia elbowed Joe in the back. He bolted upright. It wasn’t a dream, someone was knocking at the front door. “Good Lord,” he thought, “it’s 3 A.M.!”

Throwing a shirt on, Joe’s bare feet hit the cold floor. The fire had died out hours before. Walking quietly to the small front window, Joe peered outside. He looked for a long, long time. Three figures stood shivering at the front porch, one lantern spreading a weak light over a scene no dream could approach.

A good foot and a half of snow had made the whole world a postcard picture, and it was still coming down. The man holding the lantern near the porch had what appeared to be a bright red bulbous nose, and his shockingly orange hair stuck out in every direction like a porcupine feeling defensive. Next to him was a woman with a painted white face, a bright lime green suit, and feet large enough for two. Beside her was a third figure who was bald as an egg. He wore a tuxedo and top hat. Even with the hat, he couldn’t have been more than four feet tall.

Swallowing hard and still not confident of his sanity, Joe opened the door just a crack.

“Mister, don’t shoot or anything,” said the squeaky voice of Red Nose. “I know this looks real funny.”

Joe couldn’t help but smile at the understatement.

“We hate waking you up, but we’re from the circus that’s coming to these parts,” the squeak continued.

Joe, remembering the advertisement at the store, relaxed a bit.

“Our train derailed hours ago,” Red Nose continued, “and we were getting so cold we set out on foot. But I reckon we got ourselves turned around somehow. We’ve been walking for hours. Can you help us out?”

Big Foot nodded her head vigorously, and Shorty’s eyes were filled with tears. “Sure,” said Joe. “C’mon in, I’ll put some coffee on.”

The three strangers padded in gratefully, leaving their dripping shoes at the door.

Joe started to stoke the fire, and was explaining that the three kids were all asleep when Alicia gave a loud moan from the bedroom. Joe ran in to check on her, hoping it was a bad dream. It wasn’t. When he came back to the living room, worry lines creased his face.

“My wife Alicia is almost eight months pregnant,” he explained to the three shivering circus clowns. “She’s having some pains. We’re praying she’s not going into labor. Town’s two miles in, and the only Doc is five miles on the other side.” The three heads nodded sympathetically.

“And,” Joe thought to himself, “that snow will be two feet deep in another hour.”

By the time Alicia’s next yell came, Red Nose, Big Foot and Shorty were settled in front of a roaring fire with fresh coffee and some bread and butter Joe had drummed up. This time Joe came out of the bedroom and blurted out “I’m worried.” His voice had a tremor in it. The circus performers looked anxiously at each other.

“Hey, who’s getting up early to do chores?!” Joe’s voice was suddenly playful and chipper. The clowns followed his eyes to the other doorway, where the three kids had tumbled in, wide awake and asking about their mom. When they spotted Red Nose, Big Foot and Shorty in front of the fire…well, “surprised” doesn’t do justice to their faces.

Joe introduced everyone, and calmly explained to the kids that their mom wasn’t doing so well. Then he went back to the bedroom.

When he emerged twenty minutes later, his face looked even grimmer, though he brightened a bit when he saw the three kids lined up in rapt attention in front of Red Nose, who was teaching them to juggle with three old apples from the basket on the counter.

“Okay, gang, we need everybody’s help now. I don’t know everything about having babies, but I think your mom is going to give birth tonight, and she is going to need some help.” Joe’s six listeners hung on every word. He eyed the three clowns.

“I’ll need one of you three, uh, grown-ups, to ride into town on Old Smoky. I’ll saddle her up for you. Which one of you was the navigator that got you lost tonight?”

Red Nose solemnly raised his hand.

“Okay,” Joe said. “So we know it can’t be you. You stay put. And I might need Big Foot to help with Alicia. Shorty, that leaves you. Old Smoky is pretty small, and I think you’ll fit her. Can you ride?”

Shorty’s eyes were wide with fear, but he knew how to ride.

“Good,” Joe said. “Follow the treeline for two miles, and you’ll end up in town. Turn right at the store, and there’s two big houses up on the hill near each other. One’s the Hayes’, and the other belongs to the Fords. Either one will do. Tell them what we’re up against and see if they can come. Fast. Then on your way back, wake up the preacher in the house next to the church. We’ll need all the help we can get. Kids, you take Red Nose and Big Foot to get a big load of firewood in here. I’m going to bring your mom out to the couch near the fire.”

It seemed like hours, but after Alicia was settled in the living room, there was the jingling of bells outside and Joe heard the Hayes’ big horse team breathing hard from their run with the sleigh. Fred and Tammy burst through the front door, loaded down with baskets, blankets and a lantern. “That was quite a messenger you sent,” Fred teased.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” Joe breathed, knowing that Tammy had helped other births in Hayford over the years. At that point, things seemed to go into high speed. Alicia’s contractions became more frequent, and Tammy mopped her brow. Hank was heating water and making some food in the kitchen, Big Foot stood wide-eyed nearby, while Red Nose tried to divert the kids by telling a few of the thousands of jokes he had memorized. That’s when the front door flew open again, and Hank and Mimi Ford hustled in.

Their eyes locked on the Hayes. The room went into slow motion, then froze all together. Joe groaned inwardly and thought “No, Shorty, no, I said one family or the other. Not both!” No one said a word for what only seemed like three days. Then Mimi walked over to the couch, knelt down on the floor and said softly, “Tell me how I can help, Tammy.”

Fred looked at Hank, then at the pale face of Joe. “Fellahs, looks like the best thing we can do here is pray!” The three of them grasped hands around the table and began softly praying in turn. Either their prayers were quickly heard or not needed, because they had barely started when Big Foot yelled “It’s coming!” The next sound in the air was the healthy yelp of a little boy sampling oxygen for the first time.

And after that, who knows? The fire roared, the kettle whistled and long overdue hugs, sobs and laughter filled the little room so full it was hard to tell exactly who they came from.

And that’s just how Pastor Jacobsen found them all. Three young children, one overwhelmed husband, four former enemies and three circus clowns all kneeling around mother and child in a very small house that somehow seemed to have doubled in size. The Pastor drank it in slowly, then slipped out the door.

Joe caught up to him before he made it off the porch. They stood looking out at the fresh snow. Just a few flakes were still coming down.

“I have a lot of questions about tonight, Pastor.”

“Me too,” he answered. “Lots of questions and few answers.” After a long silence he spoke again, not quite trusting his quivery voice. “It’s not the first time a baby’s arrival shook things up, you know. So why don’t we just be thankful and leave it at that?”

There’s no other way to say it. On Christmas morning in 1929, something extraordinary happened in Hayford, Idaho. And the next week the sign read

“Population 54 3,” which included the Rodriguez baby.