The Greatest Gift

By Bakerj

Chapter One

“Dadburnit, we haven’t seen so much as a dadburned feather!  Where’ve all those dang critters got to.”

Taking a moment to stop from scouring the terrain, Joe glanced at Hoss.  “If we don’t bag a turkey soon, one of us will be going in that stove.”

“I know who I’ll be helping Hop Sing squeeze in.”

“Thanks a lot!” 

The laughter died away, and silence fell.  The fallen pine needles under their boots deadened their footfalls as they pressed on through the trees.

“At least we can bag the first one we see.”

Sky-blue eyes turned Joe’s way, pinning him with a horrified look.  “Wait a minute, Joseph.  We ain’t taking back no puny turkey.”

“I’m just saying what with—”

“Just cause Adam’s away, that’s no reason to short-change Hop Sing.  He wants the best turkey, and that’s what we’re gonna give him.”

“And it’s got nothing to do with you wanting to chow down on one as big as a calf?”

Hoss winked.  “Nope.”

Joe’s laugh echoed through the trees to the ears of the one watching them.  Unaware of another’s presence, the two men continued with their task.

“Hey, Hoss?” 

“What?”

“D’you think Pa would let me go away for Christmas?”  

“Don’t you go getting any ideas, just ‘cause Adam got to dodge chasing down a dadblamed turkey.”

“St. Jo’s a long way to go to do that.  I guess he and that college friend will be having fun.”

“That college friend has a wife and three young ‘uns.  The only fun older brother will be having is reading bedtime stories.”  

A ripple of laughter burst from Joe, only to be shushed by Hoss.  Joe’s gaze followed his pointing finger.  At last!  There it was.  A fine cock, basking in the sunshine.  With a wave of his hand, Hoss signaled for Joe to go right while he circled left.

With the speed and agility of a cat, Joe slid around to the other side of their prey.  Hoss disappeared out of sight and Joe kept moving until he was in position to approach the bird downwind.  Picking his way forward, he crouched behind the scrub, his eyes never leaving the turkey sunning itself in front of him.  His mouth began to water at the size and plumpness of the bird, and he lined up his shotgun with eager anticipation.

Although not enough to do any damage, the blow did send Joe flying.  The time needed to collect the wits his spill scattered was enough for his attacker to grab his gun.  The metallic echo of the cocking weapon caught the breath in his throat.  When he flipped around, his mouth dropped.  The boy aiming right at his chest couldn’t be any older than twelve.   But a kid with a gun could still kill a man.  The seconds passed.  Joe didn’t so much as blink and the boy didn’t pull the trigger. 

When he opened his mouth to ask what he wanted, an imperative finger came up over the young Paiute’s lips.  The signal for silence was clear, and Joe figured this fledgling warrior knew of his brother’s presence.  More signals followed.  Joe got the message and stood to move ahead of the metal barrels leveled at his back.  He dismissed the idea of grabbing the shotgun.  That was one easy way to get blown in two by a barrel load of buckshot.  They walked off into the trees, leaving Hoss and the turkey behind, and began to climb. 

Joe jumped and turned when he heard the shot.  His hands came up to calm the startled boy whose grip had tightened around the trigger in a way that sent Joe’s heart pounding.  “It’s okay.  That’s my brother shooting at a turkey.”

When the Paiute eased back his finger, Joe knew two things.  The boy understood English, and he didn’t want to shoot him.  At least, not yet. 

At another wave of the gun, Joe turned to continue.  Where the heck was he taking him, and what did he want?  

They moved further up into the trees.  Joe glanced back to where he’d left Hoss.  His brother would be looking for him, but there wasn’t a darn thing he could do.

***

Chapter Two

Hoss grabbed his prize and hefted it up before him.  The grin on his face beamed out in the sunshine.

“Little Joe!  I got it!”  His words bounced around the trees, but when no younger brother appeared, he yelled again, “Come take a look.” 

Hoss did a turnabout that came up empty one brother.  “Where you at?”  When Joe didn’t show himself, Hoss narrowed his eyes.  “Joseph!  This ain’t funny.  You get out here right now.”

Muttering cusses under his breath at the varmint that was his little brother, Hoss tied off the turkey and slung it over his shoulder.  Hoisting his shotgun, he began to search.  “If this is a joke, I’m gonna pound you good.”

***

Hoss stopped and slumped against the pine, letting its great bulk take his weight.  His gaze lifted to the horizon and the sun sinking behind the mountains.  With it went all hope of finding Joe today.  His hours of searching had turned up nothing.  What could’ve happened that his brother would’ve vanished without so much as a trace?  He turned his head in the direction they’d left the horses.  The idea of leaving flipped his stomach, but it was the right thing to do.  As it was, he wouldn’t make it back before Pa started to worry.  But that couldn’t be helped.  He’d had to keep searching right up until the last moment.  Come first light, he’d be back with every hand in the bunkhouse to help search.  Of course, none of this logic made the decision any easier.  A fist slammed into the tree trunk, and then, shoulders drooping, he trudged away to the horses.

***

Chapter Three

Dusk blurred the distinct shapes around them by the time Joe spotted the Wikiup.  A whistle from his captor split the air, and the animal hide covering the doorway was thrown open.  A young girl of around six or seven stepped out.  Her large eyes grew rounder at the sight of Joe. 

“I guess you want me to go inside, right?”  The stern expression on the boy’s face didn’t change as he pointed in answer.  “Right.”

Ducking inside, Joe moved across and waited to let his eyes adjust.  In the middle of the hut, a fire burned, filling the space with heat and light.  Around it, laid out for bedding, were animal skins and blankets.  Lying on one pile was an old man.  The children followed, and the girl scurried back to kneel by the Indian on the floor.  Everything clicked into place.  The old man was the reason he was here. 

Still standing by the entrance holding the gun, the boy spoke for the first time.  “This is Yowangi, our grandfather.  He is sick.  You will help him.”

If this kid thought Joe was gonna let him stay in charge, he was wrong.  “What’s your name?”

Surprised by the question, the boy hesitated.  “Pawiki.”

“I’m Joe Cartwright.”  Joe glanced at the sleeping old man.  “Put down the gun, and I’ll take a look at your grandfather.”

“No!  You will take it back and run away.”

“Pawiki, I give you my word, I’ll stay.  But I won’t help you at the end of a barrel.”

Pawiki glared and clutched the gun tighter.  A low, husky voice crackled through the air.  “Do as the white man says.”

So, the old man was awake.  Waiting for Pawiki to set aside the shotgun, Joe made his way to the Indian’s side.  

“You are a Cartwright?”

“That’s right.  My pa’s Ben Cartwright.”

“I have heard of your father.  He is a friend to the Paiute.”

The old man closed his eyes as if the effort to speak those few words had drained all his strength.  Pulling off his gloves, Joe glanced at Pawiki.  “What’s wrong with him?”

“We do not know.  He does not eat.”

Joe folded the blankets and animals’ skins back from the old man’s grey face.  Every bone showed through ancient skin, creased and weathered by decades in the sun, wind, and snow.  He laid a hand on the wrinkled forehead.  No fever.  A hand with fingers bent and gnarled slapped his aside, and Yowangi’s eyes opened again.

“I am not sick.  I am dying.”

“You just need some good food and rest.  Once I get you back to the Ponderosa— “

“No.  I die on the land where I was born.  This is why I stayed when my tribe went down the mountain to the winter camp.” 

Joe frowned.  “Your people left you behind?”

“They respect my wishes.”  His dark eyes traveled to the children.  “My grandchildren do not.”

Pawiki flung out his chest.  “How could we leave you?  You took care of us.  It’s our turn to look after you.”

“I told you to go.”

“We owe you too much to—”

“You owed me obedience.  And what did you tell Numaga so they left without you?”

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Pawiki bowed his head and refused to answer.  Yowangi’s sighed, and his eyes slid shut.  His granddaughter’s hands fluttered over the old man’s chest, and the gaze she turned on Joe was drenched with worry.

“It’s all right.  He just needs to rest.”

A sniff escaped Pawiki.  He brushed a hand over his face and turned his back.  Joe recognized the gesture and understood the boy wouldn’t want anyone to see him upset.  “Look, it’s too late to make any move now.  We’ll talk about it later.”  He smiled at the little girl and asked.  “What’s your name?”

“Meli.”

“Hello, Meli.  Do you have something for your grandfather to eat?”

Jumping up, Meli went to the fire, and the pot set on a flat rock next to it.  Grabbing a bowl, she spooned some of the contents into it before returning to Joe.  The watery stew seemed to consist of a few roots and chunks of rabbit.  “Thanks.”  Joe touched the old man’s shoulder.  “If I help you sit up, can you eat?”

Yowangi mustered his strength to open his eyes.  The tiredness in those depths told their own story.  This man was done and ready to let go.  But still, Joe tried, “You need to eat to get your strength back.”

“Joe Cartwright, I have seen seventy-eight winters.  I have no interest in seeing another.”

Setting the spoon back in the bowl, Joe glanced at the children.  Meli wrapped her hands around her grandfather’s wrist.  “You will make him better?”  The hope and expectation in those big, brown eyes wrenched his heart.  What will they do when he doesn’t perform the expected miracle?  “You two, get some food.”

Moving to the fire, he joined the children in the meal.  Warm but not much else, Joe ate the stew and found out the tribe had left over a week earlier.

“You’ve been alone since then?”

Pawiki threw back his shoulders.  “I hunt.  Rabbits.”

“And I find roots and berries.”

Joe lifted his bowl, “And you cook.”  Meli returned Joe’s smile with one filled with pride.

“When Grandfather gets better, we’ll rejoin the tribe.”

Joe contemplated the young man before him and decided he deserved honesty.  “Your grandfather told the truth.  He’s dying.”

“No.” The harshness of the whispered word betrayed the boy’s despair.  “You will take him to the white doctor.  He will make him better.”

“Your grandfather doesn’t want to leave.”

“Then, we stay, and you go.”

Pawiki crossed his arms.  His face set.  Meli followed suit, staring back in defiance.  Joe sighed.  “I’ll talk to him again.”

Stirring at the gentle fingers laid on his arm, Yowangi asked, “My grandchildren?” 

“They’re fine.  But they want me to take you to a doctor.”

“Will you look after them and take them back to the tribe?”

“I’ll do that.  But we can’t leave you here.”

The sigh that rose from the old man sounded like the last breeze of autumn.  “It has been hard.  I could not die and leave them alone, but you are here now.”  Yowangi’s voice faded, and Joe leaned in even closer to hear his words.  “You give your word to take care of them?”

“I give you my word.  But they won’t leave you.”

“Then, it is time I left them.”

The old Indian’s hand quivered as it lifted to crook a finger.  The children scurried to his side, and Joe moved away to give them room. 

Sitting cross-legged by the fire, Joe watched the conversation.  He guessed the topic when both children looked his way, then shook their heads.  Long, slow nods soon followed, but when the old man took the hand of each of his grandchildren and brought them together over his chest, Joe lowered his head to study the fire.  The sob brought it back up.  Meli’s little body shook with grief, but Pawiki remained quiet and still.  Their grandfather was dead.

***

Chapter Four

Hoss rode up to the house the unhappiest he’d ever been.  He’d left his brother, maybe injured or worse, and now he had to face Pa.  As his heavy footsteps crossed the threshold, his father appeared with a smile on his face, which added another weight to the heaviness in his heart.

“Here you are.  I had Hop Sing hold supper for you.  Where’s Joe?”

“He ain’t here.  I lost him.”

Pa’s chuckle was typical.  He thought they were playing another prank.  But that changed the moment he got a good look at Hoss’ face.  “What d’you mean, lost him?”

“Just what I said.  One minute he was there, and then he wasn’t.  Pa.  I searched for hours.”

The disbelief in those dark eyes before his father moved around him to look out the door was hard enough, but the way Pa’s back stiffened when he saw those two riderless horses pursed Hoss’ lips tight.

“What happened?”

“I dunno.  We were tracking this here turkey, and we split up.  He just disappeared.  I thought it best to come home and return tomorrow with men to search.”

His father turned and met his eyes.  They didn’t hold blame or anger, only understanding of what it cost him to ride off that mountain without Little Joe beside him.  Whatever his feelings about his youngest, Pa set those aside to make him feel better.  A hand came up to squeeze his forearm.  “You did the right thing.”

“About time you get home!  Supper almost all dry up.”  Hoss and Ben turned toward Hop Sing in time to see his face light up at the bird still hanging on Hoss’ back.  “You get turkey!  That good one, and … where Little Joe?”

***

Chapter Five

The noise woke him.  Throwing back his blankets, Joe sat up.  Shadows from the flickering fire danced over the children.  He’d left them holding silent vigil over their grandfather, although Meli had dozed off leaning against her brother.  The skins of the Wikiup moved in and out like blacksmiths’ bellows, and Joe didn’t need to pull back the section of the door flap to know what he would see.  But his stomach still plummeted to his boots.  Sweeping down the mountain and whiting out everything, a blizzard raged. 

He secured the flap and considered the children.  Nothing about this was good.  Earlier, he’d seen the sack from which Meli replenished the pot with roots.  Too empty for his liking, and the dwindling pile of wood for the fire did nothing to lighten his mood.  Maybe they’d get lucky.  Maybe the storm would only last a few hours, and they’d make it home tomorrow.  He sucked in his bottom lip.  A whole heck of a lot rode on maybes.

***

Hoss didn’t hear his bedroom door open or the footsteps that crossed the room.  It wasn’t until his father’s hand rested on his back that he knew he was there.  Turning his head from staring at the maelstrom outside his window, he clenched his fist, his voice low and harsh as he forced out the words, “I never should’ve left him.”

His father’s fingers came up to grip his shoulder.  “You weren’t to know.”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Pray.”

***

Chapter Six

The harsh sound of the blizzard became the background melody to their captivity.  Pawiki kept Meli entertained with stories and a game with carved sticks.  One of them held the sticks out of the other’s sight, and they had to guess their positions. 

The children’s occupation left Joe brooding on his thoughts, which turned to his brother.  Had Hoss gone home?  If he hadn’t and camped out.  No.  Hoss was too smart to make such a dumb mistake.

Opening his eyes on the second day to hear the storm still raging, the knot in Joe’s stomach tightened a little more.  His suggestion to use less firewood and put fewer roots in the stew met with a penetrating look from Pawiki.  The boy got the message but said nothing to frighten Meli.  Instead, he picked up their game again and kept her entertained. 

Left to himself, Joe poked the meager fire and imagined he was standing in front of the fireplace at home with those roaring flames warming his bones.  Today was Saturday.  Two weeks ago, they’d held their Christmas party. 

The room lit by the fire and candles, heady with the scent of the Christmas tree and pine boughs, welcomed their guests as warmly as they did.  After the first carol, he’d given Hoss a wink, and they’d moved in on Pa to tease him about Miss Abbey.  Joe swore Pa turned pink at their suggestion she’d set her cap for him.  Adam’s absence meant there were more young ladies to dance with.  Not that he complained.  Closing his eyes, he could still hear Mary-Belle’s laugh.  The way it had trickled down his ear to his toes like warm honey still made him tingle. 

The party was a long way from sitting in a Wikiup, freezing his butt off.  But he couldn’t blame the reason.  Getting Hop Sings Christmas Turkey was a sacred duty.  He hoped Hoss had the sense to take the bird home.  What a shame if that beauty got left in the snow, thanks to his predicament.  Besides, the thought of what might have happened to those kids if Pawiki hadn’t found him raised the hair on the back of his neck.  It might take longer than he thought, but he’d get them back to their tribe.

Staring at the waning fire and half-empty pot wasn’t Joe’s idea of fun.  Figuring Pawiki and Meli might be bored of the stick games, he gathered stones and drew a grid onto the dirt floor.  Maybe they’d enjoy learning his favorite game of checkers?  Turning the smooth stones in his fingers, he laid out the pieces.  He’d had given his new bandana for these to be the wooden pieces at home, and Hoss sitting opposite him now, ready for another thrashing.

***

Hoss set down the checker piece he’d been turning between his fingers and got up.  He just couldn’t seem to stay still.  His big boots trudged another line across the room, which was one too many for his father.

“I wish you’d sit down and stop wearing a hole in the floor.”

Hoss grunted.  “Sorry.”  Settling into the big, blue chair, he crossed his legs and leaned his chin on one hand, but still, his gaze drifted to the windows and the white blizzard beyond.

He’d gone over everything that happened a hundred times, questioning every detail.  Where else could he have looked?  What had he missed that would’ve led him to Little Joe?

“Your brother can take care of himself.”

Looking up, he found Pa’s steady gaze upon him.  Of course, he understood and was worrying no less himself.  “Sure, I know.”

“Do you?  You and I taught him everything there was to teach.  He knows what to do.”

Hoss smiled.  He and Pa had taken Joe out more times than he could remember, and how that kid had listened.  “Little Joe was sure a good learner and whip-smart, too.”

“And he’s grown into a resourceful young man.  We must trust to that.”

***

Chapter Seven

“I can gather wood, maybe catch rabbit.”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes out there.”  His words were firm, even harsh, but he needed to banish the idea from Pawiki’s mind.  Joe understood his need to do something.  Their situation had gone from bad to worse.  The last of the stew ran out last night and the firewood that morning.  But going outside was suicide.  The snow piled deep beneath the storm that refused to stop, and a man couldn’t see the hand in front of his face. 

Gathering every blanket and fur in the Wikiup, even those covering Jowangi, he’d wrapped them around the children.  It was twenty below outside, and the night would be even colder.  But waiting out the blizzard was their only option. 

Pawiki glanced at his sleeping sister.  “We can’t just sit here.”

“Yes, we can.  It won’t last much longer.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“That doesn’t make it less true.”

The boy clenched his jaw and hunkered down further into his furs.  Recognizing that fire of frustration in his eyes brought a smile to Joe’s face. 

“You laugh at me!”

“You remind me of someone, is all.”

Joe ducked his head and fought back the grin when he saw how Pawiki’s anger vied with his curiosity.  Curiosity won.  “Who?”

“Me.  I tussled like this with my pa a few times.  Thinking, I knew best.”  The young Indian’s face asked the question, and he answered.  “Sometimes, I did.”

Pawiki grunted in satisfaction and nodded.  After a beat, he added, “But you not right all time?”

“Nope.”

“Like me, now?” 

Joe smiled at the acknowledgment.  “Pa was a smart man.”

“Like my grandfather.”

“Tell me about him.”

Pawiki sat up.  The admiration in his words shone through the boy, lighting him up while he drew a vivid picture of his grandfather.  The feeble man Joe had met faded, replaced by a strong warrior who had courage and resilience, much like the young man before him.  Crossing his arms, Joe huddled into his winter coat.  “Y’know, he refused to die until he knew you and Meli would be safe.  Only when I’d promised to get you back to your tribe did he allow himself to go.  He was a great man.”

The warm glow in Pawiki’s eyes acknowledged the compliment.  Joe smiled at the pride this boy had for his grandfather.  A warmth filled his chest.  It was the same with him and Pa. 

Neither of the children complained of hunger or cold.  Cuddled together for warmth, Joe watched them sleep.  Stuck for four days already, he’d known storms last a week or longer.  Doubt, colder than the temperature, crept into his belly.  The promise he’d made weighed on him.  Yowangi had died believing his grandchildren would be safe.  He couldn’t let the old man or these kids down.  No matter what, he’d keep that promise. 

***

Chapter Eight

This time, the silence woke him, and it took a moment for his cold, numbed brain to register what was different.  Jumping up, he yanked back the door flap to push his way through the banked snow.  Down the valley, everything lay encased in white.  Above it, the sky soared clear and blue.  His breath quickened with relief, and a smile bloomed.  But turning to face the mountains behind, the smile faded.  The leaden sky hung low with gathering clouds.  Joe glanced back at the Wikiup.  Could he risk moving the kids?  Could he not? 

He might be able to scare up some game to see them through.  But the depth of the snow made the odds of that lower than making it home.  He bit his lip, and through his hesitation, Hoss’ voice reached out of the past, ‘Remember, Little Joe, indecision can kill you just as easily as a poor one.  Take the time to think, but then make your mind up quick.’

Closing his eyes, Joe released a long breath in a cloud of warm air.  The image of a roasted turkey, its juices oozing from moist flesh, danced before him.  He’d be darned if he spent Christmas starved and freezing!

Shaking Pawiki awake, he instructed, “There’s a break in the storm.  We gotta go.”  Grabbing a rabbit skin, he began to wrap it around one of Meli’s moccasins.  When Pawiki didn’t move, he repeated.  “C’mon, get ready.”

The boy pointed at his grandfather.  “We must bury him.”

“We haven’t got time for that.  I promise we’ll come back and take care of it.”

“I won’t leave him like this.”

When Pawiki moved, Joe grabbed his arm.  “Your grandfather told you to do as I say, right?  You gonna ignore his wishes again?”  Their eyes locked.  Joe held fast.  Respect would win the day.  It always had for Joe when he’d disagreed with Pa, and this obstinate boy had that same respect for his grandfather. 

Pawiki dropped his gaze, and the tension left his body.  “I will obey.”

Squinting against the sunshine, Joe pulled his wool collar up around his neck and tightened his scarf.  The view that stretched before him was humbling in its vastness.  He knew these mountains as well as any man, but Pawiki had brought him off the Ponderosa into Paiute country, and familiar landmarks lay buried under feet of snow.  He needed help.  “Can you take us back to where you found me?”

Without hesitation, the boy pointed in the direction they needed to go.  Hefting Joe’s shotgun, he moved off.  Joe had told him to leave it behind, but the boy had clung to the gun as if his life depended on keeping it and refused to budge.  Sighing at the kid’s pigheadedness, he’d let it go. 

Down they walked, weaving around the massive pines and granite rocks that pushed up to the sky.  Joe chuckled at their little caravan.  The kids swaddled in furs, walking one in front of the other, stepping in the footsteps he left in the pristine snow.  But his good humor didn’t last. 

With the snow up to his knees, every step required the same energy as twenty would’ve without it.  When they hit pockets where Joe sunk to his thighs, he had to pull and lift the children through.  The cold froze his flesh, turning it numb.  All the while, the temperature dropped, an ominous warning of the coming storm. 

Joe glanced behind him and frowned.  Bringing up the rear, little Meli looked dead on her feet.  Stopping to rest was time they couldn’t afford.  Dropping onto one knee, he smiled at the wilting child.  “Time for a ride.”

The little girl pulled herself upright, fought back her weariness, and looked Joe in the eyes.  “I can walk.”

“I know, but you’ll do better for a rest.”

Hesitating, she looked to her brother.  When he gave her a nod, she climbed on Joe’s back.  Setting off, Pawiki shouldered that darn shotgun and marched in his wake.  Joe shook his head.  How amazing were these kids?    

Ahead of the storm, the wind hurtled down the mountain, eager to batter them double.  Not content with this assault, it turned and swept across the fallen snow, scraping the icy powder up into its cruel grasp to fling it back in gusts of icicles.  Joe could do nothing to stop the tiny shards from biting and stinging his frozen flesh.  He blinked, trying to clear the flakes that clung to his eyelashes, blurring his vision.  The sweat running down his face froze before it reached the scarf that now tied his hat to his head.  Every breath of frigid air hurt, and the air wheezed through his lungs as they fought to work.  He could no longer feel his legs, and only by sheer force of will did he keep his limbs moving.  When Meli slipped, Joe grunted and shifted the numbed fingers that clung to her, moving her to a better position.  When he dropped to his knee for the tenth time, Pawiki came to his side.

“Let me take her.”  Without the breath to answer, Joe shook his head.  “I can do it.  I am strong.  You carry gun!  I carry Meli.”

The intense young man before him wasn’t taking no for an answer.  Joe lowered his head.  Fatigue, like the cold, had crept into every nook and cranny of his being.  If they were to keep going, this was the only way.  Nodding, he unbent his fingers and released his hold.

***

Chapter Nine

Taking the sleigh was the smart option, but the realization of what they might be bringing back struck Hoss with a force that shook the hands tightening the leather harness.  He crushed the knowledge down.  Thoughts like that don’t do anyone any good, nohow, and the big man wasn’t going to allow anything to deter his concentration.

Outside the barn, Pa shouted orders.  Ever since the storm broke, he’d been unstoppable.  His father wouldn’t return without his youngest.  That suited Hoss fine.

***

“Why do we keep going this way?”  The wind that roared around them in swirls of snow dust made Pawiki’s shouted words hard to hear.  “We must go straight.”

Behind them, the weather pressed in, relentless in its pursuit.  Time was running out.  “We’d never make it.  Our only chance is to get to where you found me.  That’s where my family will be.”  The scowl didn’t leave Pawiki’s face.  Of course, he doubted him.  But, for Joe, there was no doubt, only certainty.  “Trust me.”

Nodding, the boy continued to follow in his steps.  Joe shifted the weight on his back, pulling Meli closer.  They’d taken turns carrying her, but seeing how the young brave leaned on the shotgun for support the last time he’d asked, Joe’d refused to hand her back.  

He battled for every inch of progress, and the trek seemed endless.  There was no conscious thought now.  The effort of putting one foot in front of the other consumed him.  Not content with stalking them down the mountain, the wind continued its furious attacks, whipping up the snow in blinding flurries.  Reeling from the torment of this terrifying preview of the storm that followed hard on their heels, Joe’s certainty failed him.  Had he made a mistake, failed Yowangi, and condemned his grandchildren to death?  Utter despair began to close in when blurry shadows formed into the stark outline of a familiar landmark.  His heart leaped.  He recognized this territory.  They were three miles, maybe less, from where he and Hoss had been hunting.  Hope burned through his veins.  With renewed vigor, he plowed on. 

The wind eased when they broke the tree line, letting the swirling snow dust drop and separate long enough for Joe to see them emerge like stars on a foggy San Francisco night.  The sight of that big hat tied on with a scarf cracked a smile across his numb face.  Beside Hoss stood Pa.  They must’ve been searching for hours to have come this far.  He turned to Pawiki, his happiness making the words ring.  “What did I tell you.”

His family stood no more than fifty feet away.  The end of their ordeal was in sight.  Waving, he could taste his excitement as he yelled.  But the wind had one more vicious trick to play.  Snatching away his words, it smothered them with its howls.

***

Hoss crinkled his eyes and weighed up the storm bearing down on them with increasing speed.  The wind roared through the towering pines, about as ferocious as he’d ever heard it, and visibility shrank with every passing minute.  Joe could be ten feet from them, and they’d never know it.  He didn’t like to admit it, but they’d run out of time.  Putting a hand on Pa’s arm, Hoss yelled, “This ain’t no good.”

The same hollow desperation that pressed on his chest filled his father’s eyes, but Pa was no fool.  Staying longer would condemn them all.  Still, neither could leave before taking one last look. 

***

The squalls rose and closed in, stealing his family from him.  But not before he’d seen them turning away.  They couldn’t leave.  Not now.  Not after they’d tried so hard.  Through his slackened grip, Meli slid to the ground.  His arms hung at his side.  The hands within his gloves trembling.  He couldn’t catch his breath or think. 

The tugs on his sleeve forced his head around.  Pawiki held out the shotgun.  What did the boy want?  Thrusting the gun against his chest, Pawiki cried out, “Joe!”

His brain turned at last and got the message.  Frozen fingers grabbed the gun and snapped it to his shoulder.  He couldn’t see a damn thing, but that didn’t matter.  Drawing on everything Hoss had taught him about wind trajectory, stance, and follow-through, he took a breath, aimed, pulled the trigger, and held his position.  Finally, he lowered the gun. 

That was it, their last chance.  If he’d blown that, it was all over.  His heart thudded against his chest wall as he squinted through the swirls of snowdrift.  Blotchy shadows came together into two familiar forms.  Pa’s arm came up to point right at them.  The relief drained the last of his endurance.  Dropping to his knees, he pulled Meli close.  Pawiki followed, and the three sat huddled together in a puddle of exhaustion and joy.

Joe put out a hand, giving his father something to grasp, and got pulled upright into a hug.  Released, Pa peered into his face.  “You all right?”

He got in a nod before Hoss snagged and crushed him tight against his large frame.  “Don’t you go scaring me like that, y’hear?”

Smiling, Joe saved his breath for what he needed to say, “We hav’ta get these kids off this damn mountain.”

“We all need to get off this mountain.”  His father helped Pawiki up and pointed at Meli.  “Hoss.”

Watching Hoss sweep the little girl into his strong arms, Joe drew in a deep breath and sent up a prayer of thanks before following back to the horses and the other men.

***

Chapter Ten

The front door closed, and Hoss waited for Joe to appear.  The look on his face told him he’d had no luck.

It took four days for the worst storm Hoss could remember to blow itself out, and as soon as it did, Pawiki insisted that he and Meli move from the guest room to the barn.  Hoss had understood why, but Pa wanted them to stay in the house.  Joe fought their corner and won.   But today was Christmas, something Pa set a lot of store by.  He wanted those children present and correct at his table.

“Well, where are they?”

“They won’t come.  I said I’d take them out a plate.”

Hoss recognized Pa’s reaction, That slow nod and tone of displeasure.  “I see.  So, they won’t come in.  And you’re going to take them out of a plate.  Is that right?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

When Joe glanced at him, Hoss caught that age-old plea for support and rose to the challenge.  “You can’t really blame ‘em, Pa.”

“Is that so.”  Silenced by his father’s gaze, Hoss sucked in his cheeks and threw Joe a look that conveyed the thought, ‘I tried.’

Pa’s napkin came down with a thud, and his brother winced.  Heading to the door, Joe danced in front, trying to slow their father’s progress.

“Pa.  Don’t be mad.”

“Joseph.  I am not mad.  But today is Christmas, and I want all my guests under my roof to share this meal.”

The die was cast.  Hoss sighed, grabbed his coat, and followed.  Across the yard of melting snow, they trudged.  When the barn door swung open, Pawiki and Meli’s heads popped from around the stall, which they’d made their temporary home. 

“Children, I wish to speak with you.”  Head high, Pawiki walked to meet their father, Little Meli trailing in his shadow.  “Today is a very special day.  It’s Christmas day.  Today, we remember a great gift given to us by our Lord, and I want you two to share this day and our meal.”

Those big brown eyes of Meli’s got turned on her brother, and Hoss caught the excitement in them, but Pawiki shook his head.  “Joe saved us from the storm.  You gave us food and shelter.  We are grateful.  But we cannot take more.  Joe told us this day was for the giving of gifts.  We have no gift.”

When Joe opened his mouth to speak, Hoss snapped a hand around his arm and gave him the ‘leave it to Pa’ look.  He knew what he was doing. 

“Young man, you’re very much mistaken.  Joe told us it was you who insisted on bringing the shotgun.  That you refused to set it down, even though it was a great burden.  How you carried it all the way down that mountain, and it was your idea that he used it.  If you hadn’t, Joe could never have got our attention, and we all know what that would’ve meant.” In his usual way, Pa bent so he could look Pawiki right in the eye, then reached out and dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Thanks to your courage and strength, you gave us the greatest gift of all.  No one is more welcome at that table than you and Meli.”

The pride that crossed the boy’s face made Hoss smile, but it spread into a grin seeing his brother’s, whose gaze rested on their father.  “C’mon, let’s get inside before Hop Sing changes his mind and feeds all that good grub to the hogs.”

As they left, Hoss wasn’t surprised when his brother moved next to Pa.  He couldn’t hear Joe’s words, but the expression on his father’s face said it all.  There was a lot of pride flowing ‘round the barn that day.

During their absence, bowls, and dishes that showed off Hop Sing’s culinary skills now covered the table.  Joe helped Meli into her seat, and they all grinned as the little girls’ eyes widened at the feast. 

“Hop Sing has outdone himself.”

Hoss nodded back at Pa.  He was right.  The food looked prime.  Rubbing his palms together, the big man took a long sniff, drinking in the aromas of spiced cabbage, buttered carrots, and freshly baked bread.  “I don’t know what gift you were talking about, Pa, but I sure got mine right here.”

The laughter around the table was interrupted by the appearance of Hop Sing with the crowning glory of the meal.  Resplendent on their cook’s favorite platter, its crisp, brown skin glowing in the light, resided the turkey Hoss had brought home that fateful day. 

“And I got my gift, too.  Very good turkey!”

***

Epilogue

Pa and Hoss came out to meet him as he rode into the yard.  With a wave, he greeted them and dismounted.

“How’d it go, Son?”

“Great.  We found Pawiki’s tribe exactly where he said it would be.  Chief Numaga was sorry to hear of Yowangi’s passing.   But he was grateful for us burying him and bringing the children home.  Although Pawiki might not be sitting down for a while judging by the chief’s reaction when he found out about the lies he’d told.”

“Well, it’s good they’re back with their people, and although he’s no doubt in for a tough time, I don’t think spanking is the Paiute way.”

“What?  I wish I’d known that when I was a kid.  I might’ve run away and joined a tribe.  Saved me from a lot of paddling.”

Hoss’ arm wound around his neck, dragging him into his barrel chest.  “Little Brother, for you, I think they would’ve made an exception.”

Joe rolled his eyes at his brother’s guffaws and Pa’s laughter before joining in.

Pa slapped him on the back.  “C’mon.  We’ll help you put these horses up.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

** The End **

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