Small Yellow Gloves

By Marcella Petillo

CHAPTER 1

“He’s late…”
Adam exchanged a glance with Hoss, and they both smiled without letting it show.
“Pa, he’ll get here! You don’t need to worry. He wasn’t supposed to take a long ride, and he’ll be home soon.” Adam plunged his eyes back into the book of poems he was reading.
Hoss folded the newspaper and greedily inhaled the air.
“He wouldn’t miss Hop Sing’s Christmas Eve dinner! You can count on it!”

Ben snorted irritably. “I’m not worried, but it’s getting late, and it’s started snowing again! He should have been home an hour ago!”
Adam laughed. “You are worried, we know you, Pa! You know Joe isn’t a child anymore and can take care of himself—but it’s stronger than you!”
Hoss shifted and put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Pa, you know Adam’s right too! Joe is 24 years old. He grew up just fine, you can trust him!”

The front door flew open suddenly, slamming against the entry sideboard. A blast of icy wind with a swirl of snow poured into the house…
“What the dev—!!!” Ben shouted, caught off guard, and the occupants of the room jumped at the same time at the noise and the cold!

Joe, outlined in the doorway, hesitated for a moment, then rushed into the house; a large bundle, wrapped in a blanket, was slung over one shoulder.
“Quick, I need help!” he shouted. “We have to warm him up!” as he set the bundle down on the couch in front of the fireplace and hurried to remove the blanket.
Its contents were soon revealed: a child of maybe seven or eight years old, motionless, deathly pale, with blue lips and wet clothes!
The only splash of color: a pair of yellow wool gloves, soaked with snow!

*****

One hour earlier.

The figure wrapped in a wool coat was bent low over his horse’s neck to withstand the gusts of icy wind and snow that had suddenly risen—a blizzard!

Just what we needed, snow too, now! Come on, Cooch, let’s go home; I can’t wait to warm up in front of the fireplace and then enjoy the dinner Hop Sing prepared! Can you imagine? Another Christmas together! Tonight I’ll give you a double portion of grain, my friend!”

It had already been snowing for a while, but the trail was still visible, and Joe tried to relax as much as possible in that cold as he headed home without pushing Cochise.

The horse suddenly stopped, shying to the side, snorting and neighing nervously.

Joe was almost caught off guard, but he kept control and looked around.

He had learned to trust his horse’s instincts and wondered what Cochise had sensed that he couldn’t see in the swirl of snow.

He dismounted, took a few steps, and stumbled over a mound of snow lying across the trail.

Something caught Joe’s attention, a spot of color, and he realized that what he was looking at was a pair of yellow wool gloves that were still visible against the whiteness of the snow!

Small gloves for small hands, a child’s hands!

A jolt in his heart, and Joe hurried to brush away the soft snow that almost covered him.

A child, soaked through, unconscious, clearly hypothermic, and certainly in danger of losing his life!

Joe shook him, tried to bring him around, but the child’s nearly blue lips required immediate action. He lifted him, wrapped him tightly in the blanket that was tied behind the saddle, then unbuttoned his coat, pressed the child against his chest, and closed the coat as best he could, trying to keep him warm. He urged Cochise toward home, pushing the pace as much as possible.

CHAPTER 2

Present

In the now-imminent sunset, the lights of the Ponderosa welcomed him with their warm, inviting glow.

Joe sent Cochise into the stable, promising him that he would be back soon to take care of him and feed him. He slung the child over his shoulder like a bundle and fought against the wind and snow to reach the door.

The snow-covered yard had muffled the sound of the hooves, and no one had noticed his return.

A strong gust of wind slammed the door shut, wrenching it from his hand, while snowflakes swirled around him and into the house. He stood paralyzed for an instant, then Joe burst into the house like a fury, asking for help.

He had knelt in front of the couch and was frantically undressing the child. Ben took command; the wet clothes and underwear were placed near the fireplace to dry. The little one was wrapped in a warmed blanket, massaged and rubbed, including hands and feet, to get his circulation going again.

Adam added logs to the fireplace, and the fire blazed. Then he helped Joe take the damp coat off his shoulders while he was kneeling and busy with the child.

Hoss fetched stones to heat up to keep the little one warm in bed and took care of Cochise in the stable.

Hop Sing rushed into the kitchen to heat some broth.

Joe, after wrapping the little one in the blanket and massaging him, sat on the edge of the hearth with the child in his arms to warm him better, while he continued to rub his back and extremities without uncovering him.

Only his thick black hair was visible.

An almost unreal silence fell, then the questions began.

“Joseph?” Ben’s voice was low. “What happened? Who is he? Where did you find him?”

Joe did not answer, lost in his thoughts, and continued to massage the child’s back.

“Joe?” Adam called him again. The young man snapped out of it and saw his family looking at him, waiting silently.

“Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought. I don’t know what his name is, nor who he is. I found him passed out in the snow. He’ll have to tell us. I hadn’t seen him—Cochise sensed him and stopped on the trail.

I have no idea where he came from, or where he was going, but he must have spent a long time out there in the cold, without proper clothes, because he was almost dead!”

A small movement under the blanket and a sneeze interrupted the questions, and Joe uncovered the child’s face as he was coming around.

He smiled gently while stroking his hair.

“Hey, hi! Don’t be afraid. I’m Joe, and these are my father and my brothers; you’re in our home, you’re at the Ponderosa, our ranch. I found you passed out in the snow and brought you home. Do you want to tell us what your name is?”

“Tom,” was whispered timidly by the child as he looked around the large room decorated for the holidays, then his eyes widened at the sight of the huge, decorated, sparkling Christmas tree near the stairs.

Hop Sing came over with a cup of boiling broth.

Ben smiled as well. “Hello, Tom, I’m Ben Cartwright, and these are Adam and Hoss.

And he is Hop Sing, our cook.

Drink some broth while it’s nice and hot, so it will warm you up.”

Ben took the cup of broth from the cook’s hands and offered it to Tom, who grasped it and began to drink its contents in small sips. His hands trembled a little from the cold he had absorbed, and Joe helped him hold the bowl.

Little by little, his complexion improved, to the great relief of the Cartwrights.

“How old are you, Tom?” Joe looked at him as he adjusted the blanket around him better.

Between one sip and another, he replied, “Almost eight, I’m not a child!” straightening his back and sitting up straight on Joe’s knees.

Joe smiled, amused, looking at his father, and recognized himself in Tom’s answer, which reminded him of himself at that age.

Naturally, he moved Tom from his knees to the edge of the hearth.

“Of course you aren’t! Do you want to tell us what you were doing out there in this weather?”

Tom hesitated, closed in on himself, lowered his eyes and his head, and the Cartwrights looked at one another, puzzled.

The awkwardness was broken by Hop Sing, who announced Christmas Eve dinner and added a place at the table for Tom, next to Joe.

Hop Sing also took care of Tom’s nakedness while waiting for his clothes to dry.

He took him into the kitchen, away from eyes that might embarrass him, and dressed him in a nightshirt from when Joe had been a little boy. How and why he had kept it was unknown, but it proved providential.

It was still a bit big for Tom, but he rolled up the sleeves and draped the blanket around him to keep him warmer.

Thus arrayed, Tom took his place at the Cartwrights’ laden table, bowed his head for Ben’s prayer, and smiled for the first time when Joe set a plate full of delicious food in front of him.

CHAPTER 3

That evening, the telling of the Nativity was especially heartfelt. Ben’s deep voice read the Gospel passages that announced the birth of the Savior, and having a child present and listening made everything more moving.

The abundant food and the warmth of the fireplace soon made little Tom drowsy, sitting on the couch between Joe and Hoss.

Adam, who was facing him, pointed it out to his brothers in a low voice, and Joe picked him up to carry him to bed in the guest room on the ground floor.

Hoss had warmed the large bed with heated stones wrapped in towels. A fire had been lit in the room’s fireplace and bathed the whole space in a warm glow.

The little one was laid in the center of the soft mattress and covered with a warm quilt.

His breathing became slow and regular as exhaustion took over, and Tom fell into a deep sleep.

Christmas morning held a surprise for Ben and his two older sons.

The door to Joe’s room was open, and the room was empty, with the bed unmade.

Now, it was well known that the young man had never been a morning person, and the thought that Joe had gotten up so much earlier than they had surprised them!

But in the great room on the ground floor, there was no sign of him.

Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and put a finger to his lips, calling for silence, then opened the door to the guest room a crack and motioned for the Cartwrights to look inside.

In the large bed, two figures were sleeping on their sides. Tom was in Joe’s arms, resting with his back against his chest, his head on his shoulder, his hands clasped around Joe’s arm, as if to hold him there, to keep him from going away.

Ben smiled at the sight, then stepped closer to the bed and laid a hand on Joe’s hair as he called him softly.

Green eyes opened beneath the tousled curls; Joe yawned, still sleepy, then slowly shifted so he could get up without waking Tom.

He left the room without making a sound, shivered with his bare feet on the cold floor, and saw the family standing there in silence, clearly curious.

“Sorry, it’s cold—give me time to get dressed, and I’ll explain…” and as he said it, he was already heading up the stairs toward his room.

When he was almost at the top, he stopped and turned with a smile. “Oh, by the way… Merry Christmas, Pa! Adam, Hoss!”

And he disappeared around the corner.

It didn’t take long for him to reappear, washed, dressed, and ready to talk.

They all settled near the fireplace, warm, with mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, waiting for Christmas breakfast.

Little Tom was asleep in his room, and Joe hoped he would sleep a while longer so he could bring the family up to date on what had happened.

“I went down to the kitchen last night—I was thirsty—and I opened the door to check on Tom. He doesn’t know us, he’s still little, he’s been through so much; I thought that if he woke up suddenly, he might be scared.

I heard him crying. He was sobbing under the covers so no one would hear him.

All alone in that big room, in a house he doesn’t know, among people he doesn’t know… my heart just broke!”

Ben smiled, knowing Joe’s sensitivity and his ability to empathize with others’ pain, encouraged him to go on, and he continued…

“He lost his mother when he was five…” Joe’s voice cracked as he lowered his head. Hoss’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “…his father died a month ago. A good man, a hard worker—he raised farm animals—but an epidemic wiped everything out in a few weeks. He didn’t have the strength to start over.

He sold the farm and decided to come here, where he knew he had an uncle, the younger brother of his father.

Tom had never even heard of him before.

They had lost touch over the years, but he contacted him with a letter, telling him of his wish to come and settle in the area.

With a bit of luck, he would have built another farm… he didn’t have time.

He had heart trouble, and a heart attack took him in the night.

Fred, Tom’s father, had already sent the proceeds from the sale of the farm to the Virginia City Bank and had also arranged the trip.

When Tom realized they were going to send him to an orphanage while they looked for any relatives or family, he ran away and climbed aboard the stagecoach to Virginia City! He hadn’t reckoned with the weather, though! He didn’t know he’d find such cold and snow. He knew the location of his father’s uncle’s ranch—they had studied the map of the area carefully when they planned the trip.

When he finally arrived in Virginia City, he didn’t want people in town to realize he was traveling alone on Christmas Eve!

He rented a pony from the stable with a plausible excuse and headed toward the ranch, but when it started snowing heavily, he lost his bearings and got lost, no longer recognizing the road.

To make matters worse, the pony got spooked by something and threw him, then ran off with his baggage. It surely went back to the warmth of the stable! Tomorrow we can recover his things; Tom, instead, found himself wandering aimlessly through the snow until he passed out, and Cochise found him!”

Adam whistled through his teeth, impressed by the stubborn determination and courage shown by an eight-year-old boy.

“He told me everything like a river in flood while I was holding him in my arms—crying and sobbing, releasing the pain and fear he’d been through—then he curled up close to me and fell asleep all at once.

He was exhausted. I didn’t have the heart to leave him alone, and I slept with him.”

Ben smiled at his son. “You did the right thing, Joe—he really needed comfort. But you haven’t told us who this uncle he was going to is.”

Joe smiled with pure joy. “Jeff Donovan! Our neighbor!”

CHAPTER 4

Hoss and Adam jumped to their feet at the same time. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get him!”

Ben stopped them. “Wait, not so fast! First, we wake Tom and have breakfast. Right after that, with some excuse, you’ll go to Jeff’s to inform him of his nephew’s death and of Tom’s arrival. After all, we don’t know how he’ll react to suddenly finding himself responsible for a child of almost eight years old—we need to give him time to digest the news.

Jeff and his wife, Laura, lost a child a few years ago and have no other children. What a blessing it would be if they welcomed Tom! What an immense Christmas gift for everyone!

Let’s say that, if all goes well, you’ll invite them here for Christmas lunch and they and Tom can get to know one another.”

After breakfast and Christmas wishes, the Cartwrights exchanged their gifts under the big tree, but each of them had found a way to provide something for Tom as well, rummaging among the things they already owned.

A pocketknife, a small leather satchel embroidered with beads—obtained through a trade with an elderly Paiute—a colorful neckerchief, some candies, and a warm wool scarf.

Tom was impressed and enthusiastic.

The day was cold but clear. The sun made the snow that had fallen the night before sparkle, and Joe asked Tom if he would like to visit the surroundings of the Ponderosa. When the child refused to ride double with him, Joe saddled a horse suitable for the little one, and they rode off together, thus leaving Adam and Hoss free to go visit Jeff and Laura to inform them of Tom’s arrival and of what had happened.

Joe’s heart beat fast with hope for the little friend saved from certain death. He had grown attached to the child, who in some ways reminded him of what he himself had been at the same age.

Stubborn, determined, brave—and on horseback, a real surprise: a natural, just like him!

Tom rode with the ease of an experienced rider, naturally matching the pony’s movements, joyfully enjoying the ride and the magnificent snow-covered landscapes opening before his eyes.

His pocketknife in the satchel tied at his waist, the neckerchief under the scarf wrapped snugly to protect him from the cold, his mouth chewing candies… after all, he was an eight-year-old child!

A moment of serenity after the hardships endured, the dangers faced, and the pain of loss. Tom smiled as he rode beside Joe, with bright eyes and cheeks flushed by the cold, clear air of that Christmas morning.

All too soon, it was time to return home for the holiday lunch, and the two riders headed at a gallop toward the Ponderosa, urging their horses into that final run.

In the yard stood a buggy, and Joe’s heart leapt in his chest!

Had the Donovans come?

Did that mean Tom would find a family willing to take him in and love him?

Had peace come after the pain?

Eager to see with his own eyes, Joe went into the house, followed by Tom… only to discover that the guest was Doctor Martin!

Disappointed, he looked toward his father, who was smiling as he introduced Tom to the doctor friend.

The physician’s clinical eye had already taken in the child’s smile, his flushed cheeks, his build, his bright, intelligent eyes as he told about the ride he had taken with Joe, and he gave Ben a broad nod of approval.

But there was no sign of Adam and Hoss—much less of the Donovans—and Joe sighed with tension.

Then the sound of hooves came from outside, and shortly afterward, the heavy front door opened as Adam and Hoss entered, laughing loudly and leading the way for a man of imposing stature and a lovely woman, small and slight, with a gentle face.

Ben went to meet them. “Jeff, Laura, what a pleasure to see you! Welcome to the Ponderosa, and Merry Christmas! I’m glad you came!”

Then he turned toward Joe, who had placed his hands protectively on Tom’s shoulders.

“Joe, bring Tom here!” And then, addressing the child directly, “Tom, I’d like you to meet Jeff Donovan and his wife, Laura. Here is your father’s uncle! You traveled a long way to meet him!”

The child trembled as Joe’s hands tightened on his small shoulders. He remained silent, unable to utter a single word, and his eyes grew shiny with unshed tears.

It was Jeff who approached the boy, bent down to his height, resting one knee on the floor as he studied him closely, then smiled. “You’re the spitting image of your father! It’s like seeing him again when he was just a little older than you. I was young then, too, but I remember him well! I’m so sorry for your loss!”

He opened his arms to welcome Tom, who found himself pressed against Jeff’s chest, sobbing.

Laura also stepped closer to her husband and the child. She stroked his hair, wiped the tears wetting his cheeks, and looked at him with a tender smile.

“Tom, my dear, don’t cry—don’t cry anymore! You’re home now. We’re happy you came all this way to meet us! You’ll be a son to us, and we’ll be your family! I can’t imagine a more beautiful Christmas gift!” And Laura, too, was overcome with emotion, holding her husband and Tom in her arms. Tom’s gaze sought out Joe’s; he smiled at him through his tears, his heart shining in his eyes, in a silent thank-you for the peace he had found again.

Then Ben’s hand slid gently along Joe’s arm. A long look was exchanged only between the. A warm, enveloping sense of belonging. A silence full of meaning, sealed by a smile between father and son.

In the midst of the general emotion, Hop Sing’s voice rose.

“To the table, Christmas lunch is served! Merry Christmas to everyone!”

The End.