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By Oxgirl

~~~

Chapter 1

“Pa?”

“I think he’s coming to.”

“Pa? No … don’t!  Please …”

“It’s okay, take it easy.”

He was lying sprawled on his back in the snow, a light dusting starting to settle on his prone body.  He was struggling to open his eyes and was tossing his head from side to side in obvious distress.  Blinking, he managed to squint up and see us crouched over him, and he raised his gloved hand to the nasty cut on his forehead.  As his senses and memory started to return, he gasped and tried to sit up rapidly.  Too rapidly.  His eyelids fluttered and he would have slumped back down onto his back had Hoss not caught him in time.

“Can you hear me?  My name’s Joe.  This is my brother, Hoss, and we’re here to help you.”

He looked about 14 and terrified.  He was skinny and dirty, and dressed in shabby clothing far too big for him.  His long, blond, straggly hair was unwashed and it looked as if he hadn’t eaten properly in a good while.

“What happened, son?” asked Hoss gently.  He has a way of soothing youngsters and, as he helped the boy to sit up, his reassuring manner seemed to be working on him.

“My … my horse stumbled, I think he slipped on some ice, and I fell and hit my head,” he mumbled, looking back and forth between the two of us, panic still evident in his eyes.

“Yeah, we found your pony, he hadn’t gone far and we just followed his tracks in the snow ‘til we found you.  What’s your name, son?”

“Josh.  I guess I blacked out.”

“Where’re your folks, Josh?  What are you doing out here on your own?” I asked, as Hoss pressed his kerchief to the boy’s head wound.

Hesitating, he shifted his gaze uneasily away from me, and stared down at the ground.  We waited for him to answer but, after a few moments of silence, it was obvious he wasn’t going to so, exchanging glances, we silently agreed not to push him.

Hoss stood up, brushing the snow from his pants.  “Well, look, Josh, we all can’t stay out here any longer.  It’s going to start snowing again real soon and we need to get out of this cold,” and reaching up to Chubb, he pulled down his blanket to wrap around the boy’s shoulders.  As he helped him to stand and walk over to his scrawny pony and mount up, I stood up and looked around. 

We’d been travelling back from Placerville and were only about an hour from the house.  With Adam having recently left the Ponderosa to pursue his own goals, we’d both felt bad that we weren’t with Pa where we belonged.  We’d been delayed with our business in Placerville and should have returned three days ago and, with this being Christmas Eve, we were eager to get back so we could all be together for the celebration.  The last thing we wanted was for Pa to be alone at Christmastime.  So we’d been hurrying along with our heads down trying to keep the wind-driven snow out of our eyes when we’d come across the lone horse.  We hadn’t noticed any signs of homesteaders or travellers, but I guess it was possible that we might have missed them.  Still, I was puzzled as to where the boy had come from.  And where he had been going. 

With Josh now hunched over in his saddle and starting to shiver violently, I pulled Hoss away a little so I could speak to him without the kid hearing us.

“Why don’t you take him back to the house, I think I’ll have a look around, see if I can find his folks,” I said.

“Well, alright.  But, don’t be too long, Joe.  Like I said, the weather is turning real bad real soon, you don’t wanna get caught out in this for too long.  Mind you get back before it starts to get dark, y’hear.”

Nodding, I gave his shoulder a quick pat and then let Hoss mount up and watched as he walked Chubb slowly towards home, leading the boy’s pony behind him.  At least the kid would be able to warm up, and I was sure Hop Sing would fuss over him and get some good hot food into him.

With the snow covering the ground, it was easy for me to find the route that the boy had taken.  Snow was very useful for that, if not much else.  With the black hoof prints standing out in the white carpet, I could see that he’d been coming down from the north quarter so I mounted up and started to follow his tracks.  Hoss had been right about the weather, though, the temperature had dropped further and, even though it was only three in the afternoon, the sky was already turning dark and threatening.   Pulling up the collar of my fur-lined coat, I urged Cooch onwards.

~~~

“Boy not eat good for long time!  He finish two plates already!” announced Hop Sing excitedly as he reached the bottom of the stairs on his way to the kitchen with the empty dishes.

“Sure looked like he needed them, too,” I said to Pa.

“Where do you think the boy came from, Hoss?”

“I dunno, Pa.  I couldn’t get anything out of him on the ride back, he seemed to be in some kind of shock.  Could be his folks are hunkered down someplace to wait out the snow maybe?”

“Could be,” agreed Pa, taking another thoughtful sip of his coffee.  “Why wouldn’t he be with them though?  Surely his folks wouldn’t have sent him off looking for game on his own like that?  Especially in an area that they don’t know and in this weather?”

“He seemed pretty scared when he saw us, something sure happened.  Maybe I’ll go up and try and talk to him.”

“No, let him rest, Hoss.  Joe will probably be home soon, maybe he’ll have found something.  And we can always find out more from the boy in the morning.”

~~~

Chapter 2

It had started to snow again and the hoof prints were slowly disappearing, but looking ahead and squinting I could make out where they were leading.  Up ahead, I could see a couple of horses and a covered wagon tied up outside one of our old line shacks.  Obviously, this is where Josh had come from, but I had no idea why or where he’d been heading.

Tying Cooch up next to the other horses, I made my way to the door and knocked, calling out as I approached so as not to spook whoever was inside.  Hearing no response, I knocked again, louder this time, and eased the door open cautiously.  It was dark and cold inside, no fire or lamps had been lit. 

“Hello?” I called out, lighting a match from my pocket as I entered. 

I couldn’t see much at first, but as I came more into the room, holding the match ahead of me, I could make out a shadow in one of the corners.  At first I thought it was a pile of old rags, but as I got nearer I could see that it was a woman.  She was sitting with her knees bent up to her chest and was hunkered forward, her head on her knees, so I couldn’t see her face, and she looked to be hurting.  Her hair was the same colour and in the same bedraggled condition as the boy’s.  His mother, I guessed.  Her clothing was equally as ragged too. 

“Ma’am?  Are you okay?” I asked quietly as I approached, not wanting to frighten her. 

She raised her head up suddenly and stared at me in alarm.  Her eyes were enormous and full of fear, and her face was covered in cuts and bruises.  Gasping at the sight of her blackened eye and the blood oozing from her cheek, I hurried over and knelt down next to her and placed my hand on her arm.  She tried to scuttle away from me in terror but had backed herself into the corner and had nowhere left to go.  She had the same terrified look on her face that I had seen on Josh’s earlier.  Something bad had happened here.

~~~

“Josh!  Josh!  It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re safe!”  I held onto his shoulders and was trying to hold him down on the bed but he was bucking and thrashing and trying to get away from me. 

“Pa!  Pa, don’t do it!  DON’T!” he was screaming now in terror.

“Josh!  It’s me, Hoss, remember?  Your Pa ain’t here, it’s just me, and you’re safe.”  He opened his eyes suddenly and seemed to see me for the first time before collapsing into loud sobs.

“Is he okay, Hoss?” I heard Pa ask from the doorway?

“He must’ve fallen asleep.  He was having a dream, I think”.

I eased him down so he was lying back and handed him a clean kerchief to wipe his face.  When he had calmed slightly, I sat down on the bed next to him. 

“Tell me, Josh.  Tell me what happened.”

“My P-pa,” he hiccupped through his tears, “I … I killed him!” and then, covering his face with the kerchief, he threw himself over onto his front to sob into the pillow.

~~~

Chapter 3

“It’s okay, ma’am.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I’m here to help.” 

I wasn’t sure if she could understand me or even hear me, she was just staring at me with her enormous eyes, but at least she wasn’t trying to get away from me anymore and seemed content to let me crouch down in front of her. 

“What happened, ma’am?  Who did this to you?”

I was about to reach out to her and help her to stand and move over to the cot, when I noticed the look on her face.  She was focussed on something behind me and, if possible, her eyes had widened even more.  Her mouth dropped open and she looked as if she was about to scream.  In the split second that it took me to realize that somebody was behind me, I had just enough time to turn my head slightly before feeling the impact explode on the side of my head. 

It sent me sprawling sideways to land heavily on my left shoulder and dazed me momentarily so that I didn’t move quickly enough to avoid the next blow.  This one landed on my temple and I found myself on my back stunned and unable to move, but I could feel someone open my coat and remove my gun from my holster.  The woman had started to scream and now the figure turned on her. 

“Shut up, woman!” screamed a loud, deep voice, and she immediately covered her mouth with both hands to try and quell her cries.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus my eyes on the man who had entered the shack.  My vision was blurred, but he was big, that was clear, almost as big as Hoss.  I couldn’t make out the details yet, but what I could see was the blood dripping down his face.

Raising my shoulders, I tried to shuffle backwards so that I could sit up and lean my pounding head against the wall behind me, but before I’d made it all the way he’d barrelled down on me and shoved me back down.  Then, grabbing a handful of my coat, he dragged me up to within six inches of his face so that I couldn’t avoid his rancid breath. 

“What are you doing with my woman, boy?” he growled, spraying my face with spittle.

He cocked his head towards the woman and grinned toothlessly before turning back to me. 

“Suppose you had it all planned, the three of you, did you?  Thought you could get rid of ol’ Tom, did you now?”

Shoving me back down on the floor he stood over me holding what I could now see was an axe handle in one hand and my gun in the other.  He pointed the gun towards the woman, who I assumed to be his wife, and she shrank away in fear.  I felt a fierce loathing for this brute of a man, who had reduced her so completely to this whimpering wreck.

“Where’s the boy?” he demanded of her, but she seemed too afraid to answer and just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

With the gun now pointed away from me, I figured this was my only chance.  He was a heck of a lot bigger than me, but I had to try.  So, without thinking it through too much, I launched myself at him, planning to throw him off balance and try to wrestle the gun away from him.  He was too strong, though and, with my legs starting to give way beneath me, he easily shoved me aside, ramming the end of the axe handle into my belly for good measure.  I fell back gasping for air and writhing on the ground in agony, all the fight knocked out of me.  I wouldn’t give up, though, I’d wait for my chance and I’d make this monster pay.  But for now I could do nothing to stop him and concentrated on trying to get breath back into my body.

“Woman!  Bring some rags over here”, he demanded, turning my gun back on me now.  Quickly she scurried away to do his bidding, and returned a few minutes later with some grimy sheets.

“Tear them up and tie his hands, and make it tight”, he growled.  She had some trouble tearing the material, but did manage to get it done, but when it came to tying my hands she was shaking so much that she couldn’t manage the knots.

Losing patience with her, he shoved her roughly aside.  “Get out the way,” he yelled at her furiously, “You’re useless, can’t do nothing right,” and, snatching the rags from her, he thrust the gun into her trembling hands. 

“Here, take this and point it at him while I get the job done right.” 

Reluctantly, she held the weapon out in front of her, pointing it towards me shakily while her husband bent down to start tying my hands.

He was starting to enjoy himself, I could see that.  Grinning suddenly, he bellowed at her to hold the gun steady, then sneered at her with contempt. 

“You, woman, are gonna pay for this.  First off, you’re gonna watch your boyfriend here die.  Then, when that boy comes crawling back, you’re gonna watch that cur get what’s coming to him too!”

As he chuckled to himself, the woman let out a long, high-pitched whine.  She sounded like a wounded animal caught in a trap and I closed my eyes for a moment so that I wouldn’t have to see her pain. 

Then a shot rang out!

~~~

I gently turned the boy back over to face me and held onto his shoulders so he couldn’t turn away again. 

“Go on, Josh.  Tell it.”

He took a few ragged breaths, before looking up at me and meeting my eyes.

“He was hurting my Ma”, he whispered miserably, so low that I had to lean forward to catch his words. 

“He’s always hurting her.  He’d hurt me too if she didn’t protect me and take my beatings for me.”  He dropped his head as if in shame.

“I wanted him to stop.  I thought he’d killed her!  She was so still and … and I just wanted him to stop.”  He blinked up at me as if begging me to understand.

“Go on, Josh, what happened then?” I urged gently. 

“I … I picked up his old gun.  I shouted at him to stop, but he just turned and laughed at me.  He started to get up to come after me and I … I was scared.  I pulled the trigger!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he was obviously reliving the moment in his mind and he let out a low whine of fear and pain.

“He fell down, blood was all over his head, I think he’s dead.  I think they’re both dead”, and then, as he collapsed into heart-wrenching sobs, I pulled him to me.

~~~

My heart felt like it had leapt into my throat and my eyes snapped open as I jolted violently at the sound of the gun exploding. 

She was standing over her husband, still holding the gun with both hands straight out in front of her.  I could see that her husband was dead, lying on his back with his eyes still open, a look of utter disbelief frozen on his face, a bullet hole in his forehead.  The shock was mirrored on her face too, neither would have imagined that she’d ever find the courage to defy him.  But, he’d threatened her son and so she’d protected him.  And she’d protected me.

Slowly, I worked to release my hands from the unfinished knots and, levering my aching body up, made my way over to her, this brave woman.  She still hadn’t moved but, as I eased the gun from her limp hands, she wilted and slid down onto her knees, letting out a guttural yell that sent a shiver down my spine.

I knelt down next to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. 

“I don’t even know your name?” I said softly.

She looked me in the eye then for the first time, and the hint of a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

“Esther,” she whispered, “My name’s Esther.”

I smiled back at her.

“It’s good to meet you, Esther.”

~~~

Chapter 4

Finally, we were nearly home.  I was driving Esther’s wagon and Cooch was hitched up and following along behind.  After covering her husband’s body with an old blanket, I’d set about making coffee for us both.  I’d added a shot of whiskey from a bottle I’d found into both cups, figuring we could both use some.  We’d each then cleaned our cuts as best we could and, as soon as we both felt able, we set off for the Ponderosa. 

As I drove, Esther told me how the family had been travelling from place to place for the last three years, how her husband had lost job after job, and how every new plan he made had come to nothing.  He’d gotten meaner and meaner as time went on and had started taking out his frustrations on her and the boy, blaming them for all his failures.  Things had got so bad that she hadn’t been sure how much more she could’ve taken.  She was sure that one day he would kill her and her son.

I’d told her that Josh was safe with my family now and she’d collapsed into sobs of relief.  After she’d woken from her last beating, she’d found her husband unconscious with a head wound and Josh gone, she didn’t know where.  When Tom had come round, he’d gone out looking for the boy and that was when I’d turned up.

“Well, it’s all going to be alright now, Esther.  It’s over and you’re safe.”

Pulling her blanket tightly around herself, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes and wept.

~~~

As we pulled into the yard, I could see Hoss and Pa were getting ready to mount up, and Hop Sing was standing at the door with his arm around Josh.

“MA!”

Josh bolted towards his mother, and I barely had time to bring the wagon to a halt before she’d thrown herself down to the ground and ran to meet him.  They collided into each other, throwing their arms around each other, holding on so tightly that they looked to be one.

Hoss and Pa had run over to me and were helping me down, Pa looking anxiously at the cut on my face and no doubt seeing that I was hurting. 

“Are you okay, son, what happened?” he asked, holding onto my shoulders firmly. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, Pa,” I managed before being marched into the house and lowered down onto the sofa.  Hop Sing ushered Esther and Josh inside, their arms still wrapped around each other, and then retreated to the kitchen.  He was in his element with so many people to fuss over.

I looked over at the reunited mother and son with a satisfied smile. 

“Pa, Hoss, I want you to meet Esther.  She saved my life.”

Pa, who had been leaning over me, all the better to examine me, turned to look at Esther and then stood, smiling widely.  Walking briskly over to her, he took both her hands in his and squeezed them gently.  His eyes glistening, I could hear his voice hitch as he spoke.

“Esther.  Thank you for my son.” 

~~~

After good, long sleeps for all of us, Christmas morning arrived and with it came a sense of peace.  One of the hands had been sent to Virginia City the previous evening to inform Roy of the body to be found in the line shack.  We’d all need to go to town to give our statements about what happened, but that was for later.  Today was about new friendships and gratitude, and celebration.  We’d eat like kings and queens, and we’d toast each other with fine wines and we’d sit in front of the roaring fire and we’d talk and get to know each other. 

And when it was all over and Christmas was done, Esther and Josh would look forward to starting new lives.  She wanted to go back to Montana where she’d grown up.  Her sister still lived there and she wanted to go home. 

And we would help them and we would never forget them.

The End

Finding Hope: A Story of Love and Loss

by jfclover

Chapter 1

My son, Joseph, holds the family record for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It’s not an honor that either of my other boys would like to share, but Joe has found himself in scrapes the rest of us might not withstand.  It may sound harsh, especially so near the holiday season, but rather than consider reading bible verses or decorating the house for the usual festivities, our minds have been on getting Little Joe released from Roy Coffee’s jail.

Although we’re obliged to take the charges seriously, I know my son, and I know he would never commit cold-blooded murder.  The sheriff knows it, too, but it’s his job to hold my youngest boy until we can prove his innocence. 

The whole miserable story began two months ago when Adam hired a man named Owen Benson.  His credentials were on the up and up, and the man did his job well.  There were no complaints, but we didn’t know the whole story.  Mr. Benson had a past, and the Ponderosa was nothing more than a hideout for a man who’d committed hideous crimes. 

I’d always said a person’s past was their own business, but I was wrong.  I don’t blame my eldest for hiring the man.  There’s no way to know about a cowboy who’s looking for work until it’s too late, although this time, the whole affair involved my young son.  When Joseph found a mysterious stranger lying dead on a western parcel of our land, it wasn’t long before we knew who the culprit was, and when Owen Benson was found dead in an alley just west of the Bucket of Blood, Joseph was the man Roy found standing over the body.

The mysterious stranger wasn’t really a stranger at all.  Her name was Millie Abbott, and she had just begun working at the Bucket of Blood not more than a couple of months ago.  In fact, she and Owen Benson came to Virginia City the same week, Benson on horseback, and Miss Abbott had boarded an eastbound stage, and that’s what brought Joseph into the mix.  Coincidence?  We didn’t know at the time, but my son soon became tied to both parties. 

The guilt I felt was illogical, but there all the same.  I’d sent my most curious son into town that morning to pick up supplies, and when the eastbound stage pulled to a stop in front of the depot, Joe appointed himself the town greeter.  It wasn’t the first time he’d welcomed a new arrival, but no one had ever gotten him into this much trouble before.

According to Miss Abbott, she didn’t know that Benson had chosen the outskirts of Virginia City to find work.  “If I’d known, I never would’ve settled here.”  That’s what she told my son over a bottle of whiskey at a popular saloon, and he had no reason to doubt her, but there was more to the story.  There always is, and since Joe was infatuated with the young lady, he collected bits and pieces of her life over time.  She and Owen Benson had been married.  As soon as she turned sixteen, her father handed her over to the man he’d hired on as foreman, and they were married by the town’s only preacher.

“Papa thought Owen was a good man.  Papa was wrong, but it was too late.  Owen had done his best to convince my father that he was a gentleman and would always treat me with the respect I deserved.  By the end of the first week, my husband beat me so hard, I couldn’t get out of bed for days.  I left him three months ago.  I ran away but look at me now.  He’s here.  He found me, and he works for your father.”

“There’s no need for worry.  You’re safe with me.” 

Like his feelings, my son also wears an air of confidence on his sleeve.  Don’t get me wrong.  I wouldn’t have him any other way, but Joseph jumps when he ought to hang back.  He makes promises he can’t always keep, and there are often consequences that are too extreme for him to handle.

When Roy understood the entire story, he’d let Joseph go, but we needed more than my word or Joe’s.  We needed proof that my son was innocent to finalize this whole ugly mess.

Chapter 2

I was in no mood for the holidays.  My youngest was behind bars, but my two eldest boys thought otherwise, and a day didn’t go by without them hounding me about traditions we’d adapted over the years.  As much as I didn’t want to celebrate the occasion, Adam and Hoss left after breakfast to find the perfect tree.

“What if the sheriff released Little Joe, and there weren’t no tree for him to come home to?”

I could never argue with my middle boy’s reasoning, and I nodded.  “Do what you think is best, Hoss.”

“We are, Pa.  Don’t worry none about that boy.  He didn’t do nothing wrong, and Roy ain’t going to keep him a minute longer than needs be.”

“You two go on.  I’m heading to town.”

“Tell the kid we’re thinking about him.”

As much as my eldest and youngest fought, there was a kinship between those two that couldn’t be broken.  “I will, Son.  You and Hoss be careful.  A storm could hit anytime.”  

We hadn’t had much snow so far, and the roads were dry, which made travel bearable—cold—but bearable.  Trapsing back and forth to Virginia City had become routine.  I needed to see my boy, and I needed to know if he was any closer to being released.  Because of the frigid temperature, I stabled Buck at the livery next to Cochise and walked up to the jail.  The boardwalks were nearly empty.  People were staying home, staying close to a roaring fireplace, or hovering next to the kitchen stove.

When a gust of wind followed me through the jailhouse door, Roy glanced up from his paperwork and gave me a crusty look.  “Sorry, Old Friend.  It followed me in.”

“Coffee’s on the stove, Ben.”

“Thanks.  I could use a cup.”

“Muscle’s in my top drawer.”

“I could use that too.”  I filled my cup and sat down in front of Roy’s desk.  After I took a sip, he pulled out his bottle and topped off each of our cups.  “How’s the boy this morning?”

“I tried to feed him some breakfast, but he said he weren’t hungry.  I suppose that happens when you got a murder charge hanging over you.”

“Oh, Roy.  You know darn well that Joe didn’t kill that man.  He told you why he was in the alley.  The boy felt sick.  Nothing more.”

“I need some proof, Ben.”

“Then get some.”

“I’ve talked to half the people in town, and no one saw a thing, and since Little Joe found Miss Millie on the Ponderosa, there was bad blood between him and Benson.  Seems to me I saw Little Joe walking the lady down the boardwalk a time or two, which leads me to believe they was more friendly than … well, you know what I mean.  And if Benson killed that woman and left her on your place, am I supposed to think Little Joe wouldn’t want some kind of revenge?”

“Someone killed Benson, Roy, and if you’d do your job properly, you’d realize it wasn’t Joe.”  I stood and set my cup on Roy’s desk.  I was so damn frustrated that I took out my anger on a longtime friend.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.” 

“I know you didn’t.”

“I’ll go see Joe now.”

“Leave that gun on my desk.”

Good old letter-of-the-law Coffee.  I laid my gun down and followed him back to the cells.  Covered with two wool blankets, Joe lay flat on his back with his hands tucked behind his head.  The cells were cold.  Roy’s stove didn’t send heat that far back, and even though Joe said he liked the cooler weather, he didn’t have much meat on his bones, and I imagine he had trouble staying warm.  He turned his head when he saw me, but he didn’t sit up. 

“Good morning, Son.”

“Morning, Pa.”

I pulled a chair up toward the cot.  My son’s voice was weak, void of emotion.  Not the Little Joe I was used to hearing.  “You feel okay?”

“I’m fine.”

We hadn’t talked much about Miss Abbot, and I wondered how involved Joe and the new barmaid had become.  Did I dare ask?  If he told me to mind my own business, I’d have my answer, so I plowed ahead.  “Tell me about Miss Abbot.”

Joe looked perplexed by my question.  “Why?  She’s dead.”

“I know that, Son.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

Joe tossed the blankets to the side of the cot and sat up.  “Will talking about her get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, but every piece of information is worthwhile, don’t you think?”

Joe dropped his head.  “I don’t know.”

“She was a pretty girl, wasn’t she?”

“Beautiful.”

Triggering a response was like pulling teeth.  “Smart?”

“Very.”

Ok.  I got it.  Joe didn’t want to talk about Miss Abbot.  I clapped my hands against my thighs and stood.  “Guess I’ll be getting on back.”

My son’s head shot up.  “No!” 

Joe hated nothing more than being left alone, but after glancing upward, I noticed that his green eyes glistened with tears.  I had my answer.  He and the woman had been close, more involved than I realized.  Maybe even intimate.  “She wasn’t just smart or beautiful, Pa.  She cared about people.  She cared about things most women take for granted.”

“She sounds like a decent person.”

Joe nodded.  The wall was coming down, and he was beginning to open up.  “She told me the whole story … about her and Benson.  Her father gave her to him.  Maybe he didn’t know what a bastard that man was, but it should’ve been her decision, not his.”

“I agree.”

“That sonofabitch hit her, Pa.  He sat in a wooden rocker and drank bottle after bottle.   And then he’d beat her.  He treated her like trash, and after months of considering her nothing more than a common whore, she got away from him.  She took back her maiden name and boarded the first stage heading east.”

Hearing the tremor in Joe’s voice broke my heart.  I wanted to say the right thing, but I had no words that could take away the pain.  How deeply had he fallen for the girl?   After hearing the tone of his voice, I realized she wasn’t just a casual acquaintance.  It was much more, and I’d been oblivious to it all.  He never mentioned her, and he never brought her home to meet the family.  It was an affair that he kept to himself.  He wasn’t ready to share her with the rest of the world.

“Tell me about her, Son.”  My heart broke again when Joe’s eyes welled up a second time. 

“I asked her to become my wife, but she said that could never happen.  ‘He’d kill us both.’  I thought she was overreacting, and I told her nothing like that could ever happen … not if I was around to protect her, but I wasn’t around, was I?  I let the love of my life be killed by a brute of a man.  Her death is my fault.”

I rested my hand on Joe’s knee.  “Oh, Son.  You’re wrong.  You couldn’t have known.”

“She did, Pa.  She knew what would happen, and I pushed it aside.  She’s dead because I didn’t believe her.”

“Listen to me, Joe.  Miss Abbot is dead, and Benson is to blame, not you.  I wish I could take away the pain you feel, but I can’t.  Only time, Son.  But there’s more.  We know who killed Miss Abbot, but who killed Owen Benson?  That’s the worry right now.”

“Does it matter?”

“Does it matter?  You’re joking, right?”

“I don’t care anymore, Pa.  Go home and celebrate the holidays.  I won’t be there this year or ever.  A jury will find me guilty, and if I’m not hanged, I’ll spend the rest of my days in the penitentiary.  End of story.”

My son had no middle ground.  He was up one day and down the next.  I wanted to reassure him, but what could I say?  What words could I use to brighten his day, to pull him out of all the gloom and doom that lay heavy on his heart?  When a gust of cold wind blew through the cell window, I’d had enough, and I used my outside voice to get Roy’s attention.

“Roy!  Roy Coffee!”

The sheriff rushed in.  “What in the blazes ….”

“You can’t leave Joseph in this cell.  He’ll die of pneumonia.”

“I agree that it’s a bit chilly, but I don’t have any other—”

“A bit chilly?  It’s freezing, Roy.  Let me take the boy home.  I won’t let him out of my sight.”

“You know I can’t do that, Ben.”

I stood my ground, but letter-of-the-law Coffee was being obtuse.  “Okay.  How about I take Joe to the hotel for the night?”  Cracks began to form in the surly old sheriff’s resolve.  Maybe he had a gentler side all along.

“All right, but you have him back in his cell before breakfast … and don’t let on to the entire town that—”

“My lips are sealed.”

Chapter 3

Joe had no more to say, and before I could suggest that I have a tray of food brought up to the room, he crawled under the heavy blankets and fell asleep.  The International House was a touch more accommodating than Roy’s jailhouse, and Joe took advantage.  I sat back and watched my boy sleep.  He was so young, so vulnerable when it came to hardcase women.  It wasn’t the first time he tried to help someone in need, but he’d fallen hard this time, and trouble followed close behind.  My son was too young to die for something he didn’t do, and any Christmas activities seemed a waste of time. 

Though I woke before dawn, Joseph slept as if nothing were amiss.  He’d buried all his worries, and with a gentle snore, he wasn’t ready to wake.  I slipped down to the kitchen and ordered two specials to be brought up at eight o’clock.  That would give Joe plenty of time to clean up and be ready to eat.

When I returned to our room, I found my son sitting on the edge of the bed.  Still dressed in his street clothes, I realized he had nothing else to wear.  He’d slept in that same shirt and pair of trousers for a while already, and had I been thinking straight, I would’ve brought something from home.  I’d slip down to the mercantile and buy Joseph a change of clothes after I took him back to the sheriff’s jail.  God forbid we didn’t show up soon enough for Roy’s liking.

An early morning storm shot sleet against the hotel window.  Just staring at the weather outside made me shiver, and when a young bellhop rolled a cart to our door with two hot meals, I welcomed him and handed him a generous tip. 

“Here you go, Son.”  Joe took the plate and thanked me.  I poured two cups from the hot pot of coffee, handed one to Joe, and sat down to eat my breakfast.  “Not bad.”

“Bet it’s better than prison food.”

“Yes, Son.  I’m sure it is.”  Joe’s head shot up.  He wasn’t expecting my answer, but I’d grown weary of his sad-sack attitude and dreary remarks.  “I don’t imagine the penitentiary is very concerned with the prisoner’s taste buds.”   I tucked into my bacon and eggs and didn’t look up.  He could sit on the edge of that bed until we were ready to go and wonder what I was thinking.  After finishing my meal and drinking a second cup of coffee, I stood from my chair.  “Time to go.  Roy will be waiting.”

Joe had no words for me, and I began to grow as jaded as my son.  It wasn’t like Joe to keep so much to himself.  He’d been distant and downright disagreeable, and I was losing patience with him.  Enough was enough.

Roy met us at the jailhouse door.  I assumed he’d give us enough time to eat before I returned Joe to his cell, but he seemed awful anxious to drag us inside and out of the sleet and strong gusts of wind.  Joe didn’t find the sheriff’s antics amusing, and since his mood was sketchy to begin with, Roy’s behavior didn’t sit well. 

After pulling his arm out of the sheriff’s grasp, Joe marched back toward the cells and plopped down on the cot he’d used before I hauled him out to the hotel.  A man in the adjoining cell had a wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trying to offset the frigid air that blew through the cell window, but Joe didn’t seem to notice.  He was content to lie on the flea-bitten mattress until someone threw him inside a prison wagon and hauled him off to the penitentiary.  Nothing else mattered.  He’d resigned himself to a fate worse than death.

“I ain’t done with you yet, Little Joe Cartwright.  Get back in here.”

Roy’s remark puzzled me, but I think Joe was more baffled than I was, and when I leaned back in my chair and looked toward the cells, he’d rolled his legs over the edge of the cot and was sauntering back into Roy’s office. 

“What now, Sheriff?”

Roy reached inside his top desk drawer and pulled out Joe’s gun and holster.  “You’re free to go.”

“I’m what?”

“Free.  Free to go.”

“Why?  Why now?”

Roy pointed to the man wrapped in a blanket.  “He’s the guilty party.  He’s the fella who shot and killed Owen Benson.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand, Son?  You can thank them brothers of yours.  They jumped in and did my job for me.”

I stood next to Joe and slid my hand across his shoulder.  “What’s this all about, Roy?”

“Them two sons of yours came to town and did a bit of detective work.  Adam sat inside the Silver Dollar, and Hoss took the Bucket of Blood, and each, in their own way, got people talking, and by the time they was done, that biggest brother of yours had the answers they came for.”

“You mean the guy confessed to Hoss?”

“That’s pretty much what happened.  He’d had too much to drink and rambled on about a sister named Isobel and how he followed the dirty scoundrel who took advantage of her all the way to Virginia City.  When Hoss stepped closer and egged the man on, he was quite proud of his gallantry, and without thinking, he let the entire story slip.  His name is Ackerman, Hank Ackerman, and he’ll be taking your place in the courtroom.”

“You’re saying I’m free to go.”

Roy handed Joe his holster.  “Take this boy home, Ben.  Merry Christmas.”

Chapter 4

“It’s cold, Pa.  Go on inside, and I’ll stable the horses.”

“Thank you, Son.”

Since we hadn’t bothered to bring Joe’s horse home, we both had mounts at the livery to ride.  The flurry of snow had ended, and the sun was peeking through an overcast sky.  While Roy and Joe filled out the necessary paperwork, I gathered the horses from the stable and headed back down to the jail.  I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt for a long time.  Our lives were looking up, and I realized how right my sons had been.  Finding the perfect tree for Joe’s homecoming had been a fine idea after all.

Though I thought Joe would be overjoyed at the prospect of being out of Roy’s jail before Christmas, he didn’t say a word on the ride home.  Escaping a trial and whatever came after didn’t seem to brighten his mood.  If my elder sons had done the job they promised and put up the festive decorations, I hoped it would have some effect on Joseph.

When I walked through the front door, I was taken aback by the size of the tree and all the holiday trimmings the boys used to decorate the entire room.  How on earth did they have time to play detective, too?  If you put heart and soul into a project, it’s amazing what can be accomplished, and my older boys had gone above and beyond the call of duty.

“Hey, Pa.”  Hoss bounded down the stairs like a boy of ten rather than twenty-four.  “Ain’t Little Joe with you?”

I smiled at my middle boy.  “He’s stabling the horses.”

“What do you think?”

“I … I’m speechless, Son.”

“Me and Adam thought you’d be surprised.”

“I am at that.  Where’s your brother now?”

“Thought he was out in the barn.  Didn’t you see him?”

I turned to find Adam and Joe walking through the front door together.  “Come in and get warm, Boys.”  When Joseph headed for the stairway, I stopped him.  “What do you think, Son?  Your brothers did quite a job, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.  Looks great, but I’m tired, Pa.  Think I’ll lie down for a while.”

Hoss moved to the side of the stairs to let Joe by, and when his young brother was out of sight, he questioned the odd behavior.  “What’s up with him?”

“I need a cup of coffee.”

My elder sons followed me to the dining room table, and I hollered into the kitchen.  “Is there any hot coffee, Hop Sing?”

“You sit.  I bring.”

Out came a plate of sugar cookies and steaming hot coffee.  “Thanks.”

“Where Little Joe?”

“He went up to his room.”

“I take something to eat.”

“That will be fine.”

After pouring us each a cup, I addressed my sons and told them what I knew about Joe and Miss Abbott.  Whether it was my place to mention the woman and their relationship was something I hoped Joe would understand, but tomorrow was Christmas, and I wanted Joseph to welcome the celebration as we did every year.  I didn’t want this year to be any different, but putting the past behind him wouldn’t be easy.

“—that’s the story, Boys.”

Adam set his empty cup on the table.  “I figured he was seeing someone, but I had no idea it was that serious.”

“He should’ve told us about her.”

“Well, she’s gone, and all we can do now is help him through this.”

“What do you want us to do, Pa?”

I sipped my own cup of coffee.  “I wish I knew.”

Chapter 5

I worried about Little Joe all afternoon, and by the time supper rolled around, I was doubtful I’d be able to coax him downstairs to join the family.  Adam had gone upstairs a while ago.  Said he had a thought and wanted to try it out on the kid.  When they both walked down the stairs together, I stood from my chair and smiled.  I didn’t know what had changed, but Joe was ready to join the living.

“Supper on table.  Come eat now.”

I followed my boys, and we all took our usual places.  Joe had sat on my right since day one, and perhaps it was an omen of what was to come.   I loved the boy more than he knew, and I was thrilled to see him sitting with the family.  Whatever Adam had said to him had a significant effect, and since my mind was blank, I’m glad my eldest had found the right words to say.

After bowing our heads, I offered up a blessing.  I thanked the Almighty for sending my boy back to me and for keeping our family whole.  Without one of my sons, we would be out of kilter, out of sync, and always wondering what might have been.  We’d been teetering on the brink for the last several days, but it was over and done with now.  Giving thanks was the least I could do.

Later that evening, Adam confided in me that he’d gotten Joe to open up a bit more about Millie Abbott.  I asked him to elaborate.

“Tell me a happy story, Joe.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You and Millie.  Is there a special day or place you will always remember?”

Joe’s eyes shot to the ceiling.  He could barely hold it together, but then he started talking.  “She loved to ride.  I’d rent a horse from the livery, and we’d ride down to the lake or over to Grogan’s Meadow.  On the back of a horse, she was fearless.  Her laughter was contagious, and her ….” 

Though my young brother’s voice faltered and nothing more would be told, he’d at least said something worthwhile, and I could respond.  “That’s a nice memory to have, and I bet there are more.”

“Yeah.  I guess.”

“I’m serious, Joe.  The bad times will fade, but keep the good times close to your heart.  You owe her that.”

When Joe looked my way, he smiled.  “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Son. You found the words that I couldn’t.”

Chapter 6

When we sat down for supper on Christmas Eve, it was just the four of us.  Nothing fancy.  No friends dropping by or the gaiety of music.  It was a relaxed atmosphere that we all needed this year.  Hop Sing had done himself proud, but the hit of the night was when Hoss handed Joe a gift that he would always treasure.

“Open it, Little Brother.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

Joe tugged at the wrapping until he held a hand-carved heart that had been rubbed to a shine with beeswax.   As he smoothed his fingers over the glossy surface, tears welled, and he drew his lips into a straight line.  “Thanks, Brother.”

“I didn’t know your little lady, but I know she meant a lot to you.  This is all I could—”

“It’s perfect, Hoss.  Perfect.”

I was proud of my boys.  Each, in their own special way, had felt the pain of my youngest and had worked hard to see him through.  Time heals, and now that Joe was home and all that nasty business was behind us, we could make it through Christmas and be ready for the new year.  My prayers had been answered.  I was a very lucky man.

~ From our house to yours.  Merry Christmas 1860 ~

Christmas Challenge ~ Just Joe ~ 2025

The Christmas Gift

By Bakerj

~~~

Chapter One

When Pa’s command bit through the room, the only thing that surprised me was that he hadn’t told me to sit down sooner.  But with my gut feeling like a dozen squirrels had set up home and were dancing a jig, it was a tough ask.  “How long’s he been up there, now?”

“About five minutes longer than the last time you asked.  Can’t you at least try to show some patience?”

I glared at Adam.  He didn’t find that girl half-frozen in the snow.  I did, and she was my responsibility, not his.

“Yeah.  Quit your fussin’ around.”

My shoulders rolled back as I shifted my glare to Hoss.  Of course, he would back Older Brother up.  The sound of the bedroom door opening pushed an argument out of my mind.   I was hanging onto the newel at the bottom of the stairs by the time Doc Martin appeared. 

“How is she, Paul?” Pa asked before I got the chance.

“Fine.  Remarkably well considering.”

“Is she awake?” I said.

“She is.  In fact, Hop Sing can take up some of that soup he has warming.”

“Let me take it, Doc?”

He looked at Pa.  I met my father’s eyes, and he smiled.  “I guess that’ll be all right.  Paul, you’ll stay for lunch?”

“Thank you, Ben, but no.  I need to get back.”

“Not before having coffee.”

Paul, setting his bag down on the low table, was all the answer Pa needed. 

Right on cue, Hop Sing trotted in from the kitchen.  “Mister Doctor want soup now?”

Pa answered, “Yes, thank you.  Little Joe will take it up.  And could we have coffee and maybe some cookies?”

Adam, Hoss, and I flinched at the scowl that descended on our cook’s face.  “Coffee, fine, but no sugar for cookies!”

After Hop Sing stomped away, Paul gave Pa a questioning look.  He sighed.  “We had trouble with the supplies.”

Hoss slumped further into his seat.  “Yeah.  Christmas tomorrow and Hop Sing’s only gotta few spoonfuls of sugar.  No cookies, gingerbread, nuthin.”

“Christmas is more than sugary treats, Hoss.”

“Aww, Pa, I know that, but it’s something I look forward to all year, and now thanks to Little Brother we ain’t—”

“Now wait a doggone minute!”

“Enough!  I have told you three a million times to stop this bick—”  Pa broke off as the cough rumbled up through his chest and consumed him.

Paul moved to his side, “Fetch some water, somebody.”

Rushing back with the glass, I handed it to the doc.  Thankfully, Pa had stopped coughing.  He tried to wave the water away, but Paul wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“I told you, Ben, that was a serious bout of pneumonia, and you’re not fully recovered.  You need to take it easy, and …”  Paul’s gaze seared the three of us, “what you don’t need is to be agitated.”

The glance I shot at Hoss was filled with the same guilt I saw on his face.  But the hard light in Adam’s stare let me know how he felt. 

“Thank you, Paul.  I feel much better.”

The image of Pa lying in bed for days fighting to catch his breath, hollow-cheeked and sunken-eyed, still brought me out in a sweat.  A relapse was a constant threat.  I sat on the hearth, grateful for the warmth that eased the sudden chill that ran through me. 

Paul picked up the blanket that Pa had earlier laid aside and tucked it back around his knees, then moved to the sofa.  “The weather give you trouble?”

I almost groaned out loud.  That was the least of it.  The early blizzard took everyone by surprise.  Pa was forced to cancel the Christmas party, and every chore got delayed.  As soon as the storm cleared, the job of taking the winter fodder out to the herd was on.  I’d made the second run.  Leaning forward, I reached for an apple, just as I had reached for the brake lever …

I applied the brake to check the speed down the hill as I’d done a million times before, but the lurch that rocked the buckboard almost pitched me into the dirt.  As the wagon picked up speed, the team panicked. Hauling on the reins, the leather bit into my hands.  We hit the upcoming bend at a run.  The team turned.  The buckboard didn’t.

The world went sideways as two wheels dropped off the road.  I jumped.  Like a breaching whale, the buckboard’s other wheels rose, showing me its belly.  A crack split the air as the tongue snapped clean in two, freeing the team.  The wagon dropped, crashing down to the valley below.

The horses trembled and tossed their heads, pawing their feet at the trailing leather.  Picking myself up, I limped to the edge.  Wood and fodder lay spread over half the hillside.

Pa didn’t care about the loss; he was only happy I hadn’t been badly hurt, but to my brothers, I’d messed up.  Like I was five and didn’t know how to drive a team.  I got mad, and they got angrier.  But Hoss would’ve gotten over it if it hadn’t been for the sugar. 

The accident cost us a day, leaving us late for the supply run.  Bad enough they made me ride passenger on the buckboard while Hoss drove, but when Mr. Lehtonen looked up from our list, my stomach dropped like a rock.   When he broke the bad news that he’d sold the last of the sugar the day before, no prize for guessing who got the blame.

Hop Sing returned with the coffee tray, muttering under his breath.  Setting it on the low table, he threw me a black look and pointed to the bowl.  “Soup for little Missy.”

“Thanks.”

“Huh!” was his reply. 

Collecting the bowl, spoon, and napkin, I headed for the stairs. 

“Little Joe, she wasn’t up to talking to me.  But she may once she’s got something warm inside her.  See what you can find out.”

I smiled at Doc Martin.  “Yessir.”

***

Chapter Two

My knock was answered, and I opened the door.  There she lay on the bed, under that thick quilt.  It was like looking again at the form covered in snow …

I’d gone out at daybreak.  The air cut through my lungs, clearing out the tightness that had clung to me for days.  With nowhere special to go, Cooch and I drifted, taking in the morning.

The white pristine powder kicked up under Cooch’s hooves as I moved through the stand of pines.  We thinned them a few years earlier.  They were looking fine, growing wide and tall.  We broke through the tree line, and that’s when I spotted the shape in the snow.  Not an animal.  My heart sank thinking I’d found some kid, but then it tightened even more when I saw the skirts. 

Facing death was never easy, but I dropped onto one knee and turned her over.  One finger stuck between my teeth, I yanked off my glove and swept back the long blond hair that had escaped her fur hat.  Touching her face gave me an even bigger shock.  Warmth met my fingertips.  She was alive!

Off came my coat and scarf.  Wrapping her tight, I maneuvered her onto Cochise.  Swinging up behind, we turned for home.

I’d dragged my freezing, exhausted butt after Hoss, who carried the young woman upstairs, only to have Pa and Hop Sing firmly close the bedroom door in our faces.  Turning to head back down, Hoss looked me over.

“You look half froze to death.  You’d better go get changed afore you catch pneumonia.”

It was the nicest thing he’d said to me in days.  I smiled and disappeared into my room.  Halfway through pulling a fresh shirt over my numbed flesh, Hop Sing busted in to steal one of my nightshirts.

“Little Missy need something to wear until Hop Sing can dry her clothes.”  From the door, he stopped and looked back.  “No fire in room yet.  You get downstairs and warm up!”

I done just that, but at last, I’d get to meet that girl in the snow.  Crossing the room, I smiled down at the face peeking out from under the covers.

“Hi, I’m Joe.  I brought you some soup.”

She blinked.  I’d never seen eyes like hers before. Flecks of gold danced within their green depths, mesmerizing in their intensity.  I froze.

“Are you the one who found me?”

Snapping out of my trance, I mumbled, “That’s right.” 

When she’d got into position, I laid out the napkin and handed over the bowl and spoon.  Then I drew up a chair and made myself comfortable.  I couldn’t help but stare at those eyes gleaming at me from under her long lashes. 

In between mouthfuls of soup, she said, “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You don’t hav’ta thank me.  What were you doing out there?”

She dropped her gaze and bit her bottom lip.  “I foolishly leaned out at the wrong moment and fell.  Down I went into the snow.”

“And no one noticed?”  Idiot!  Why ask that question?  Her family would’ve turned back if they had.  “Where do you live?  We’ll send a wire to your family.  Let them know you’re safe.”

“They won’t receive it.  They’re taking care of business.  But as soon as that’s finished, they’ll find me.”

“How?  If they don’t know where to look?”

“They’ll know.”

I looked at that confident smile and dropped further back into my chair.  What was she talking about? 

“Look—I’m sorry, but I haven’t even asked your name.”

“Lahja.  Lahja Joulu”

“Lahja?”  That explained her accent anyway.  “That’s a pretty name.  But Lahja, your folks can’t find you if they don’t know where you are.”

“I think they can.  I wouldn’t rule it out, anyway.” 

I didn’t know what to say.  Finished with her soup, Lahja handed me back the bowl.  “That was delicious.  Thank you.”

“I’ll tell Hop Sing.”

“Hop Sing?”

“Our cook.”

“Yes, please tell Hop Sing.”

I grinned back at her.  Why?  I had no idea.  “You rest now.  I’ll bring lunch up later.”

“I feel much better.  I can get up.”  Looking around the room, she frowned.  “Where are my clothes?”

“Hop Sing’s drying them off.”

Her gaze fixed on me. “And who removed them?”

“Not me.  So, I didn’t see you na— without your clothes.  Not that I haven’t seen—  What I mean is, Pa did it.  But it’s all right, he’s a widower — he’s old.  I mean — he’s older, is all.”  Her soft giggle made me blush.  Could I make a bigger fool of myself?  I stumbled out of my seat and headed for the door.  “I’ll see if your clothes are dry.” 

***

Chapter Three

Taking the plate of ham Pa handed her, Lahja smiled.  “It’s so wonderful to meet people as kind and welcoming as you all have been.  Saint Nicholas would be proud.”

“Saint Nicholas?” Adam questioned.  “A jolly old elf flying around in a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer?  It’s a nice Christmas tale for children, but not much else.”

I glared at Adam’s rudeness, but Lahja’s gentle laughter quashed my anger.  “Maybe, but that tale is thanks to a real man.”

“Real?” I asked.

“Yes.  Saint Nicholas was a bishop who lived a long, long time ago, when the Romans ruled.”

“Ain’t that something?” Hoss said.  “But what’s a Roman fella got to do with our Saint Nick?”

“The Saint Nick in your children’s stories gives gifts because that is what the real Saint Nicholas did.  He gave gifts in secret.  Once, he secretly gave bags of gold to a poor father so his three daughters could marry instead of being forced into prostitution.”

I grinned when Hoss turned pink and said, “He sounds like a fine fella.”

“It is his spirit of love, kindness, and generosity that lives in a father and mother who work late into the night making gifts for their children, or a community that comes together to help those in need.”  Lahja turned to Pa.  Her smile lit up the room.  “Or the family that takes in a stranger.”

“I’m just glad Little Joe was there to help.

Adam smirked across at me.  “It isn’t often Joe’s in the right place, but for once he was.”

“Yeah!  Good job, Little Brother.”

Was that praise? Could these two be warming up at last?

Lahja laid her napkin down.  “If you will excuse me.  I think I will go rest.”

“Of course, my dear.  You’ve had quite a day.”

Her bedroom door closed before Adam said, “I wonder what she was really doing out there?” 

“What does that mean?”

“C’mon, Little Joe, her story about falling out of the wagon seems pretty unlikely, don’t you think?”

“No!  I don’t think.”  I looked around the table at the snickering faces and rolled my eyes.  “All right, all right.  But that’s not what I meant.”

Pa chuckled.  “We know.  But I think that young lady could be a runaway, and we need to get her back safe and sound to her family.”

“I know, Pa.  I’ll talk to her again.”

“Good enough.”

***

Chapter Four

When Lahja returned, Pa drew her over to the sofa.  Hoss had taken himself off somewhere, and Adam had long since retreated into a book.  Keen to put off the conversation I’d promised to have, I challenged Lahja to a game of checkers.  Her enthusiasm was a relief, and I hurried to set out the pieces.

When the clock chimed the hour again, Pa looked up from his paper and cleared his throat.  “Look at the time.  I’d better get those figures done.”

“There’s no rush, and are you sure you’re up to it, Pa?”

“I’d rather get them done.  A man can’t keep putting things off, Joseph.  You should know that.”

If that wasn’t a big enough hint, his hard stare was.  Having an audience didn’t thrill me, so I invited Lahja outside for some air.  Running into the drying room, I retrieved her cape and gloves.  My hand ran over the soft green wool and the fur that lined the heavy garment.  She’d picked the right outfit for the weather.  Trying to be a gentleman, I draped it around Lahja’s shoulders, then fetched my coat.  

Freezing air chilled my skin.  Abandoning my idea of a stroll, I steered Lahja to the barn. Thanks to the winter sun already beginning to drop, gloom darkened the interior.  I lit the lamp.  Coal oil mingled with the smell of horses, hay, and leather.  The warm light pushed back the shadows, giving a cozy glow.

I introduced Lahja to the Buck, Chubb, and Sport. She duly admired them, but it was Cooch that caught her eye.  All the ladies loved a pinto.

Trying to keep things casual, I leaned one elbow over the stall and watched as Cooch nuzzled her palm before I dived in.  “Where do your folks hail from, Lahja?”

Her gloved hand continued to stroke Cooch’s muzzle.  Then she looked at me.  I blinked.  My breath quickened.  Needing to stay focused, I tightened one hand over the other.

Lahja smiled.  “Finland.”

“I meant here, now.  Where do they live?  In Storey County?”

“No, they live a long way off.”

My gut tightened.  Getting answers from this girl was like trying to rope a maverick steer.  I tried again, but every answer was as evasive as the last.  Pushing away from the stall, I spun around, throwing out my hands.  “Why won’t you tell me?  What’s the big secret?”

“It isn’t a secret.  It’s just… ”

“What?”

“Hard to explain.”

“Look, Lahja, if you’ve run away from home—”

“Joe, please.  Don’t ask me any more questions.”

The look in her eyes dropped my arms to my side.  She didn’t want to lie to me.  I let it go.  “What am I going to do with you?”

Lahja moved around Cochise, and her smile returned.  “You could kiss me.  I’ve been hoping you would all day.”

Her eyes beckoned.   It was a distraction, but a good one.  So what if she’d run away from home?  Her folks were likely strict and never let her have any fun.  All right, we could give her a little of that before she goes back.  Besides, when those pink lips formed a welcoming bow, what was a fella to do? 

Cochise was the only witness to that stolen moment and a kiss like no other.  In all the years to come, I never could describe it.

***

Chapter Five

When we returned to the house, Pa joined me as I hung up Lahja’s cape and my coat.  In a heavy undertone, he hissed, “What did you find out?”

“Not much.”

His penetrating gaze hooked mine.  “What were you doing out there for all that time?”

“Nothing!”  I glanced toward Lahja, who was talking to Adam, then turned my attention back to Pa.  “All she told me was that her family is here for work.  But you’re right, I think she’s a runaway.”

“Joseph, we need to find out who they are.”

“I know.  I’m not gonna give up.”

“Maybe try asking—”

Hoss bursting through the door ended our conversation.  I never did get to hear what Pa wanted me to ask.

Shutting the door, Hoss pulled off his hat.  I raised my eyebrows and asked, “Where’ve you been?”

“You’ll find out, Little Brother.  I’ve got something to say, and you’re gonna want to hear it.”

The look in Hoss’s eyes got my attention.  This was important. 

Stripping off his coat, he delved into one pocket, pulled something out, and headed for the settee.  He got everyone’s attention, and my eyes didn’t leave his face as I sat down on the fire hearth.

“Something Joe said has been niggling at me.”

Adam rolled his eyes.  “Look, if you’re trying to excuse—?”

“No, I ain’t!  And you need to listen.  Joe said he felt the buckboard lurch just before he lost control.  Like I said, that’s been scratching away at me, and this morning I couldn’t ignore it any longer.  I figured I wouldn’t rest easy until I took a look.”  Opening his hand, he laid some pieces of iron onto the desk.  “I found this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Adam frowned.  “It’s the brake shoe.”

“Yeah.  See how it split right down the middle?”

Pa picked a piece up and turned it in his hands.  “That can happen if there’s a fault in the casting.  A tiny air bubble is all it takes.  Under pressure, the whole thing can suddenly shatter.”

“It ain’t no wonder you couldn’t hold that wagon.”

Adam raised an eyebrow.  “Looks like we owe you an apology.”

I turned a shard of that cold iron over with my fingers.  Hoss had taken that long ride back to the valley and searched for who knew how long to find this.  My smile beamed at him, “Thanks.”

Dragging me into a bear hug, I yelped when his large palm ruffled my hair.  “Anytime, Little Brother.” 

“Hey!”  Squirming out from underneath, I flattened my curls back down and joined in the laughter.

The call from outside took the four of us to the door.  A buckboard was drawn up in the yard. In the dusky light, I could make out Mr. Lehtonen, the owner of the mercantile.

“Hello, Ben.”

“Karl!  What brings you out this late?”

“I have something for you.”  Pulling back the tarp, Mr. Lehtonen revealed a fifty-pound burlap sack.  My mouth dropped when I saw the letters printed on it.  “Sugar!”

“I was tidying my stock room this morning and found this buried under the flour sacks.  I put it to one side for your next supply run, but I kept thinking how much you needed it, so I thought I would bring it out.”

“Hot diggity! That’s great,” Hoss pounched on the sack and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Laughing, Pa took the man’s hand.  “You’ve no idea how happy this is going to make Hop Sing.”

“Pleased to help. Now, I must go.  If I’m late for supper, Matilda will be fit to be tied.”

Wishing him Merry Christmas, everyone went inside, but as the buckboard moved away, an idea sent me running after him.  

“Mr. Lehtonen, I found a young lady in the snow this morning, and we’re trying to track down her folks.  Have you seen any strangers?  Her name’s Joulu?”

“Joulu?”

“Yes.  Lahja Joulu.”

Mr. Lehtonen raised his eyebrows.  “That’s one name I would remember, especially this time of year.  Sorry, Little Joe, but I’ve not met anyone with that name or seen any strangers.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”  Something made me hold on to the wagon and ask, “Mr. Lehtonen, why’s it a name you’d remember this time of year?”

“Joulu is Finnish for Christmas, and Lahja means ‘present’ or ‘gift’.  So, in English, we’d pronounce Lahja Joulu as, Christmas gift.”  Mr. Lehtonen shook up his team.  “Merry Christmas to you, Joe.”

I walked back into my house to the sounds of laughter and a warmth that came from more than the fire.  Hop Sing stood in the middle of the room with a smile bigger than the one when he got the new stove, while Hoss counted on his fingers a list of all the sweet Christmas things he wanted him to make.  Pa and Lahja laughed at their nonsense, and even Adam looked happy.  I took a breath and soaked it in.

***

Chapter Six

I’d never enjoyed Christmas Eve supper as much as this one.  We clinked glasses filled with Pa’s best wine.  Hop Sing produced a dessert fit for a king, and we talked and joked in a spirit of good fellowship that would’ve made even Saint Nick proud.

Collapsing on the sofa, my gaze drifted to our Christmas tree.  It was mighty sorry-looking standing there, bare as the day we cut it down.  Pa had hoped the trip to find the tree would’ve healed our rift, but it was a miracle we’d managed to get through the chore without laying each other out.  Ever since we brought it back, there it had stood — ignored — time to fix that. 

I slapped my hands together and leapt up.  “How about we get this tree decorated?”

Lahja clapped her hands.  “Oh, I’d love to.”

“Well, we can’t disappoint our guest now, can we?”  Adam laid aside his book and headed up the stairs.  At the landing, he stopped and looked back at Hoss and me.  “You coming?”

I grinned at Hoss, and we galloped after him.

Standing back, I put my hands on my hips and studied our work.  “Looks good to me.”

“You sure, Little Joe?  That star ain’t crooked?”

“Nope.  It’s just right.”

Adam held out the taper.  “Do the honors, Pa?”

Pa smiled and, one by one, lit the candles.  Next to me, Lahja let out a sigh.  “Ah … it is so beautiful.”

“You know, young lady, we usually sing a carol after dressing the tree.”

With Pa’s bad chest, for him to sing was out of the question.  I glanced at Adam and Hoss, then said, “Let us sing one for you.”

If they could, Lahja’s eyes sparkled even more.  Clasping her hands together, she begged, “Please, Mr. Cartwright, I would love to hear it.”

Pa settled back in his chair.  The smile on his face filled my chest fit to bust. 

Before I had the chance to suggest it, Adam said, “Good King Wenceslas?”  How he picked the same carol I’d thought of, I’ll never know.

We sang our hearts out.  Pa smiled and waved his hands in rhythm.  When we reached the chorus about the good King heading out, Lahja’s hands fluttered up to brush tears away.  But her smile was pure joy.

We finished to applause.  Fresh tears glistened in her eyes when Lahja said, “Thank you, all.  You’ve made this such a special day for me.”  Turning to Pa, she put out a hand.  When he took it, she squeezed his fingers.  “Especially you, Mr. Cartwright.  You who keep the spirit of Christmas alive all through the year and have passed that special gift onto your sons.”

“Thank you, my dear.  But what would make me happy is to see you back safely with your family.  Whatever happened, I’m sure they must be worried about you.”

A flicker of regret crossed Lahja’s eyes.  “It was never my intention that you should worry.”  Then she froze before twisting around to the front door.  When she looked back, her eyes glittered with excitement.  “You needn’t worry anymore.  They’re here!” 

My mouth dropped when Lahja jumped up, grabbed her cape, and flung open the door.  Then she stopped.  Turning back her smile was dazzling.  “Thank you all so much.”

In a wave of green, she was gone. 

“Joe ….” Pa began.

“I know.”  Shaking off my shock, I dashed after her.

Stopping dead on the porch, I looked around.  Snowflakes the size of marbles drifted down.  The moonlight lit the yard as bright as day, but there was no sign of Lahja or any footsteps in the fresh snowfall.  I took off across the yard toward the lane. 

“Lahja!  Wait!  Lahja!”

My breath came in clouds.  The landscape around me lay still and empty.  Snowflakes settled on my hair and shirt.  I shivered.  Then, through the crisp, winter air, I saw it.

I told everyone that I’d seen Lahja leave.  But I never breathed a word about the rest.

Long silver runners flashed under a sleigh whose wood shone like burnished gold.  Leaning out the back, Lahja waved goodbye.  For a moment, I thought she’d topple, but this time, others on the back seat reached to pull her down onto the dark leather.  Eight sturdy reindeer ran ahead.  From their red leather harness, a line of silver sleigh bells jingled.  The reins slapped, and through the night air a deep voice cried, “Peace and goodwill to all!”

The End

Lost and Found

by

Beppina

Joe Cartwright squinted hard and tugged his hat lower over his eyes as the snow fell like lace curtains across the Ponderosa. It was Christmas Eve, and the trail home wound through pines dusted white like icing sugar. The world was so still that even Cochise’s hoofbeats sounded muted, swallowed by the thickening drifts. Not a bird stirred. Not a coyote called. The air was icy and sharp, but Joe’s spirits were warm. A roaring fire, his family, and Hop Sing’s Christmas Eve feast waited for him at the ranch.

The Ponderosa, that stretched for miles in every direction, was now wrapped in a soft winter blanket. Towering pines lined the trail, their branches bending beneath the weight of fresh snow as if guiding him home.

Joe inhaled deeply. The air tasted of pine and promises—promises of laughter, music, and Pa fussing over last-minute preparations. He pictured Hoss humming carols while tending to the livestock, Adam reading by the fire or tuning his guitar for later, and Hop Sing bustling between kitchen and dining room, defending his dishes from any “sneaky tasters” named Hoss.

The thought quickened Joe’s pace.

He was cresting a gentle rise when something dark caught his eye—a lone shape half-buried at the base of a pine. Joe reined in Cochise and slid from the saddle. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he crouched and brushed the powder aside.

A glove.
Small. Dainty. Leather, stitched with delicate blue flowers.

Joe frowned. This wasn’t the kind of thing a ranch hand dropped. And out here? In this weather? He scanned the woods. No other tracks visible—only his own. The snow had buried any sign of earlier movement. He slipped the glove into his pocket and mounted up again, unsettled.

People didn’t just lose gloves on a night like this.

The sky darkened, and clouds hung thick and low. Joe’s thoughts drifted unbidden to stories he’d heard—travellers lost in storms, wagons stuck in sudden drifts, Christmas miracles and near-misses. A shiver crept through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

As the snowfall deepened, he spotted something—a faint line of footprints weaving through the otherwise blank whiteness. Joe swung down again and studied them. Small. Light. Uneven, as though whoever made them had stumbled or staggered.

A child?
More likely a woman.

A jolt of urgency hit him. Someone was out there, in the deepening snow. Out there, alone and freezing.

He followed the tracks, trudged through the snowdrifts. Dusk had settled around him, turning the silent world into shades of blue and silver. Trees loomed like dark sentinels as he crossed a clearing—and then he saw her.

A figure lay huddled, collapsed beneath the lower branches of a fir. It was a young woman, obvious from her clothing. She was dressed in what looked like a dark coloured dress and wrapped only in a thin red shawl. The one visible hand was blue with cold, the other hidden; her lips trembled as she tried to speak. Relief shone in her wide grey eyes as tears welled up and threatened to fall.

Joe dropped to one knee beside her and brushed the snow from her shawl.
“You wouldn’t happen to be missing a glove, would you?”

He held it out. She let out a soft, shaky laugh and pulled it on.

“I thought I’d never see it again… or anyone else.” Her voice was weak. “My wagon got stuck in a drift. I’ve been walking for hours.”

Joe felt a surge of sympathy—and said a silent thank you to his Pa for insisting he wear that heavy blue coat he’d complained about. He wrapped it around her shoulders and helped her to her feet.

“Come on, let’s get you home and into the warm,” Holding her close, Joe led her through the powdery snow to Cochise.

Once she was settled in the saddle, Joe climbed up behind her and turned toward the shelter of home.

As they rode, he introduced himself, “I’m Joe. Joe Cartwright.”

“I’m Clara,” she whispered. “Clara Finch. I was supposed to meet my uncle in Virginia City. The wagon got stuck, then something spooked my horse when I tried to unharness her. She bolted, and I… I got lost.”

“Pleased to meet you, Clara. You’re way off course for Virginia City. This is the Ponderosa. We’re not too far from the house now.”

Joe’s voice reassured her as the lights of the ranch flickered through the trees like homing beacons.

Ben Cartwright opened the door at Joe’s shout; a frown creased his features as he saw Joe and the half-frozen girl. Hoss grabbed a blanket, while Adam made room by the fire. Within moments, Clara was wrapped in warmth and handed a steaming cup of coffee by Hop Sing, who fussed over her as a treasured guest.

As she thawed, Clara told her story—her long journey west to Carson City and of her hopes of a new start with her uncle, Curtis Finch, in Virginia City. She told how the storm had swept in with frightful speed, how she had missed the turn for Virginia City and ended up on foot in the drifting snow. The Cartwrights listened without interruption and marvelled at the good fortune of Joe finding her.

Outside, night had fallen. The dark sky was invisible as the snow continued to fall and erased the traces of Joe’s ride home.

Ben insisted that Clara stay the night. “It’s not fit for man nor beast out there,” he said. “And, besides, we’ve plenty of room.”

Clara accepted without hesitation.

Dinner was a veritable feast: roasted beef, golden roast sweet potatoes, cellar vegetables, fresh-baked bread, and a fragrant pudding whose spicy aroma filled the house. Joe watched as  Clara enjoyed her meal. At last, she had relaxed. She was safe now, drawn into the warmth of a family Christmas she hadn’t expected.

Later, the family and their guest gathered in front of the blazing fire. Each nursed a glass of Ben’s best brandy, ready for his telling of the Christmas story. The tall, green tree was decorated with small glass baubles that reflected the flickering candles. Little keepsakes the boys had created during their childhood, along with pinecones and strands of popcorn draped between the boughs, 

Ben read from his old family Bible, his voice steady and rich with meaning. The words of peace and goodwill wrapped around the room like another layer of warmth.

After Ben’s reading, Adam sat in the red velvet chair, his guitar tuned and balanced on his knee.

“Shall we sing a few carols?” he suggested, with a reassuring smile in Clara’s direction as he strummed the first notes of Silent Night. It wasn’t long before the room was filled with music and singing. Adam’s baritone countered Hoss’s booming bass. Joe’s tenor harmonised with his father’s deeper tone. Clara soon overcame her shyness, and her lighter voice joined with the men’s. In the warm heart of the Cartwright family, Clara’s fear vanished like the smoke curling up the chimney.

Clara’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Tears of happiness.

On the mantel, the little, blue-stitched glove now hung among the decorations. It had been Hoss’s idea, and Clara had blushed at his suggestion. After being teased by Joe and Adam, she laughed and agreed, and the little glove had pride of place where all could see it.

That night in his room, Joe gazed out into the darkness. The snow had stopped, the yard was pristine and pure, not a footprint marred the surface. He reflected on how things could have gone differently. A lost, almost hidden glove. A strange, unexpected shape in the snow. The decision to look back twice. And the Ponderosa, always a sanctuary, had become a beacon to someone lost in the storm.

 Joe’s thoughts turned to Clara Finch. She appeared to be a pleasant young woman; she was a couple of years older than he, though not as old as Hoss. She wasn’t what Joe would have called beautiful, but she had an attractive way about her. Brother Hoss was enamoured with her. Maybe it could lead to something special for him. With that thought swirling around his head, Joe snuggled under his thick eiderdown and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning dawned with a bright, cerulean sky. Fingers of golden sunlight found their way through the trees, creating jewel-like glitters in the snow. It was icy cold, the air clear and fresh. Bundled up against the cold, Joe and Hoss set out to retrieve Clara’s wagon. It took a couple of hours, but they found it battered, but salvageable, and her frightened horse not far away. By noon, all had safely returned to the house.

Hoss announced it would take a day or two to get the wagon fixed up and make it ready for the journey to Virginia City. Ben invited Clara to stay at the Ponderosa as their guest until then. Hoss suggested that, after Christmas, he would escort her back to town and deliver her to her uncle, thus ensuring she didn’t have any more mishaps along the way. Much to Hoss’s chagrin, and to Joe’s amusement, Ben decided Joe would ride along with them. Two were better and safer than one with the current weather conditions.

After a wonderful few days in the bosom of the Cartwright family, Clara bid her farewell to Ben and Adam. Hop Sing made a picnic basket of goodies for her to take to her new home. He, too, had taken the young woman to his heart.

Clara thanked them again and again. She promised she would visit once she was settled with her uncle. Before she left, she smiled at them all.

“You are my Christmas angels,” she kissed Ben, then Adam, “I’ll always remember this Christmas.”

And the glove remained on the mantelpiece. A small reminder that the best Christmas gifts often arrive unexpectedly. Clara had found friendship and safety. The Cartwrights gained a new friend and the memory of a special, unexpected Christmas, and maybe, just maybe, romance was on the horizon for Hoss.

                                                            The End.

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.