Letters For Santa

by Joefan1

Joe stood staring at the mess he had made in his brother’s room. The drawers were all pulled open, and their contents spilled this way and that. Ink was slowly spreading across the desk and was dripping onto the floor. He had just begun to try and clean it up when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Quickly, he scampered into his bedroom and hid under the bed. 

“Joe,” Adam roared, “I’m gonna skin you alive.”

“What’s going on up there?” Ben bellowed.

‘That’s Pa,’ Joe thought and cringed. He was really in trouble now. 

“Your baby boy has made a shambles out of my room; that’s what’s going on.”

Joe cowered under the bed, trying to make himself as small as possible. He listened intently to his father’s footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. He held his breath when they stopped at his brother’s room and then started to whimper when they continued on into his bedroom.

“Joseph,” Ben called, peering under the bed at his five-year-old. “Come out from under there.”

Joe slowly crawled out from under his bed and looked at his father with two bright eyes. 

“Were you in your brother’s room?”

“Who else could it have been, Pa?” Adam growled as he entered his little brother’s room. 

“Joseph, answer my question.”  

Joe nodded. 

“What were you doing in his room? You know you’re not allowed in your brother’s room without his permission.”

“Looking for Christmas presents,” he whispered, head bowed.  

Adam glowered at his little brother. “Well, there won’t be any for you this Christmas. Once Santa finds out what you’ve done, you’ll be at the top of his naughty list for sure. And I’m going to write him a letter to make sure he knows exactly how bad you’ve been.”

“Adam!” Ben rebuked his eldest son as Joe earnestly begged, “No, Adam, please don’t tell Santa.”

Joe was desperate. He had been on his very best behaviour over the last few days—he had done all his chores without being told and had worked extra hard at staying out of trouble. But nothing had worked. That very morning Adam had ridden into Virginia City and taken the letter with him to mail to Santa. Joe knew he had taken the letter because he had snuck into his brother’s room and searched for it—the letter wasn’t there. Devastated, he sat down on the stoop and cried. 

“What’s wrong, Munchkin?” Hoss asked, coming out of the barn. 

“Adam writed a letter to Santa and told him I was a bad boy. Now Santa’s gonna put me on his naughty list, and I won’t get any presents.” Joe explained between sobs.

Hoss sat down beside his baby brother. “Why don’t you write a letter to Santa yourself and tell him how sorry you are for being naughty and how hard you’re trying to be good?” he suggested. “I’m sure if you do that, Santa will put you back on his nice list.”

Joe’s face lit up. “Can you help me write it?” he asked his big brother and best friend.

“As soon as I have some time, little brother.” 

Joe had been waiting patiently, or almost patiently, for two whole days. And today was the day. Today, Hoss was going to help him write his letter to Santa.

“Pa, is it almost time for Hoss to come home from school?” Joe asked for the third time that afternoon.

“He shouldn’t be long now, Joseph. Do you and Hoss have something special planned?”

Joe nodded his head. “Hoss is gonna help me write a letter to Santa, so I can get off the naughty list. I’m gonna tell him I’m sorry for being bad, and I’m trying real hard to be good.” 

“That’s a good idea, son. If you tell him how good you’ve been this last week, I’m sure he’ll put you on his nice list.” Ben ruffled his youngest son’s hair and went back to his books. 

“Can I wait for Hoss outside?” Joe turned his most pleading look on his father.

“Stay close to the house, and if you get cold, come back inside.” Ben instructed as he bundled his son up.

“Kay Pa,” Joe said and bolted out the door. 

He sat on the stoop, waiting, for about three minutes. Then, bored, he went into the barn to visit his pony. He told Star about the letter he was going to send Santa and how he was going to get back on Santa’s nice list. 

“What are you doing in here, short shanks?” Hoss asked as he led his horse into the barn.

“I was telling Star about my letter to Santa. The one you’re gonna help me write so I can get off the naughty list.”

Hoss smiled down at his baby brother. “First I have to bed down Ginger, then I’ll help you with the letter. You go inside and ask Pa for a pencil and some paper.”

“Kay Hoss.” Joe beamed and ran into the house, shouting, “Pa, I need a pencil and some paper.” 

“I take it Hoss is home.”

“Yes, he’s gonna come in and help me with my letter when he finishes putting Ginger in her stall.” Joe grinned at his father. “Can I sit at your desk to write my letter? It’s a very important letter.”

Ben nodded and placed a pencil and a sheet of paper on the desk. He pulled back the chair and lifted his son onto the seat. Joe sat up perfectly straight, folded his little hands on the desk, and waited. Then the door opened.  Excitement surged through him. “He’s coming,” Joe shouted, jumping up and down on the chair. 

“Joseph,” Ben scolded, “what have I said about jumping on the furniture?”

The five-year-old immediately sat down. 

“Can I still tell Santa that I’ve been a good boy?” he asked, looking anxiously at his father.

“Yes,” Ben whispered, hugging his son.

“Now, I’d better leave you two to get on with writing that important letter,” Ben said, and smiling went in search of a cup of coffee. 

Hoss turned to his excited little brother. “Okay, Joe, tell me what you want to say to Santa.” 

“Dear Santa,” Joe began. “I’m sorry for being bad and for messing up Adam’s room. Please forgive me. I’ve been a really good boy all week. Joe thought for a moment and then added, “My pa said I could tell you that even though I was jumping on his chair. I love you. Little Joe.”

“That’s a real nice letter. It’s gonna get you back on the nice list for sure.” Hoss folded the paper and placed it in an envelope. “We’ll leave it here on Pa’s desk so he can mail it for you.”

“Thanks, Hoss,” Joe said and hugged his big brother.

It was two days before Christmas. Ben and Adam were out taking care of some last-minute errands; Hop Sing was busy making cakes and cookies for Christmas; Hoss was in the barn doing his chores; and Little Joe was bored. 

Slipping into his coat, he marched out to the barn.

“Hoss,” he called, “can I have some paper and a pencil to draw some Christmas pictures?”

“There’s some paper in the middle drawer of Pa’s desk. I’m sure it’ll be okay if you take some, but don’t touch anything else.”

‘Thank you, Hoss.”

A few minutes later, Joe painstakingly pulled open the big drawer and removed three sheets of paper. He was closing the drawer when he noticed the edge of an envelope under his father’s books. Carefully, he pulled it out. It was his letter to Santa. 

“Pa forgot to mail my letter,” he cried as, letter in hand, he rushed out to the barn. 

“Hoss, Hoss,” he shouted.

“What’s wrong, short shanks, and what are you doing outside without a coat?”

“Pa forgot to send my sorry letter to Santa. Can you send it for me?” he pleaded.

Hoss looked down into the tear-filled eyes of his little brother and felt miserable. “Sorry, Joe, I just don’t have the time to go into Virginia City. And besides, it looks like we’re in for a storm.” He picked up his little brother, who was now crying in earnest, and carried him into the house, setting him down in front of the fireplace. 

“I’m sure Santa knows what a good boy you’ve been this week, and he’s gonna bring you lots of presents. You just wait and see,” he assured his little brother. “Now, I have to finish my chores, and I want you to stay here in front of the fire, where it’s nice and warm.” 

Joe sat by the fire sniffling. He just had to get his letter to Santa. And if Hoss couldn’t take it, he decided, then he’d have to do it himself.

Quietly he tiptoed out to the barn, opened the door a crack, and peered inside. Hoss was still there doing his chores. Knowing that his big brother would never let him go into Virginia City, Joe silently closed the door. For several minutes, he stood quietly, thinking about his problem. Finally he decided that if he couldn’t get in the barn to get his pony, then he’d just have to walk. And. mind made up, he set off to deliver his letter to Santa.

“Now, where did he get to?” Hoss mumbled later that afternoon, when, chores finished, he entered the house.

“Hop Sing, have you seen Little Joe?” 

“Little boy go outside play.”

“Are you sure?” Hoss questioned. He had just come in and hadn’t seen any sign of Joe outside. 

“Put on coat and go out door.” Hop Sing insisted. 

Hoss frowned and headed back outside. A few steps from the barn, his gaze fell upon a set of tiny boot prints. He breathed a sigh of relief and started out after his little brother. He followed him for several moments and then stopped. ‘The little blighter is heading for the road,’ he thought. ‘Where the heck could he be going?’

Then he remembered the letter. 

He raced back to the barn and was leading Ginger out when his father and elder brother rode up.

“Where are you going?” Ben barked. “Supper should be just about ready to go on the table.”

“Joe’s gone off. I think he’s headed for Virginia City. He found… He’ll freeze, Pa.” Hoss moaned. 

“We’ll find him. He can’t have gone that far,” Ben assured his middle son.

Joe had been trudging along for nearly two hours, and he was cold and tired. It had started snowing an hour or so ago, making it difficult to walk, and he had tripped and fallen several times. His knee hurt, and his face stung where he had scratched it. The only thing that kept him going was the letter in his small hand. He just had to get it to Santa. 

When he fell again, landing in a deep pile of snow, tears streamed down his face. He tried to climb out but was just too exhausted to do anything other than sit there. 

“I have to get up,” he told himself, “but I think I’ll just have a little rest first.”  A few moments later he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“Wake up, mon petit Joseph,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Joe’s eyes slowly opened. “Momma,” he murmured, looking up at the young woman who had her arms wrapped around him. “Have you come to get me? Am I going home with you?”

“No, mon cher, You must stay with your papa, who needs you and loves you very much. But I will be right here beside you until he comes. He is not far away. If you listen carefully, you can hear him.”

Joe listened intently, and a few moments later exclaimed, “I can hear him, mamma, I can hear him calling me.”

“Oui,” she whispered in his ear. “He is very close, mon ange. You must make a lot of noise to help him find you, and remember, I love you always.” She kissed him on the forehead and vanished.

“Joseph,” Ben bellowed again.

“Little Joe,” Hoss shouted. 

“Pa, I’m here.” Little Joe cried out, trying to climb out of the deep pile of snow. “I’m here!”

“Keep calling, Joseph,” Ben shouted back. Moments later he lifted his little boy out of the snow and wrapped him in a warm blanket.

“Mamma came to visit me, Pa. She told me to make lots of noise so you could find me.” Joe excitedly told his father as they headed back to the Ponderosa. 

“Pa,” Joe suddenly sat up straight against his father. “We’re going the wrong way. We have to go to Virginia City and mail my letter to Santa.”

“You can put the letter in your stocking. Santa will find it there when he comes to deliver the presents.”

“But he won’t have any presents for me. I’m on his naughty list.” 

“Santa always keeps presents for the naughty children in his sleigh in case he made a mistake.” Hoss chimed in.

“You sure, Hoss?”

“Yes.”

Joe smiled. He leaned back against his father’s chest, and his eyes slowly drifted shut. 

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. Joe had diligently placed his letter into his stocking and was now sitting, drinking hot cocoa, and listening to his father read the Christmas story. At least he was trying to listen to the story, but the warmth of the fireplace and the sound of his father’s soothing voice were taking their toll, and his eyes slowly drifted shut. They remained closed until early, very early, the next morning. 

“It’s Christmas,” he shouted, and jumping out of bed, he rushed down the stairs, into the great room, and over to the fireplace. He glanced up at the mantle. “Santa came, Santa came,” he shouted, jumping up and down with joy. His stocking was chock full, and best of all, there was a letter from Santa. 

Dear Little Joe,

I have been watching you very closely and am very proud of how good you have been this past week. I know you have been trying very hard to stay out of trouble and are sorry for all the times you were naughty.

You are a very good little boy, and I love you very much. 

Have a happy Christmas.

Love,

Santa

Adam also got a note from Santa in his stocking. It said, “Santa doesn’t like snitches.” 

THE END