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Each month in our featured story post we shine a light on an older story.
THIS MONTH’S FEATURED STORY IS …

Jinx By Bakerj

Summary: A tragedy forces Joe to face his darkest fear.
Rating: PG Word count: 5016

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by Joefan1

Joe Cartwright glowered at the ominous clouds filling the sky. He had been keeping a close eye on them all morning, and about an hour or so ago they had started moving rapidly in his direction. Now they were directly overhead, threatening to drop their load. 

He had snuck out of the house early that morning intent on getting a turkey, a big turkey for Christmas dinner, and he had yet to even catch sight of one. Now, with the storm overhead, he’d be returning home empty-handed. 

“Dang it all,” he muttered, and turning the paint in the direction of the ranch house, he started for home. 

“Did you hear that, Cochise?” Joe asked several ‘dangs’ and ‘doggone its’ later. “That’s our Christmas dinner, if I’m not mistaken.” He peered out over the brush and long grass, searching for some sign of the bird. ‘It had to be out there,’ he thought. ‘He could hear it gobbling.’ He checked out the sky again and frowned. At the very most he had a couple of minutes before that storm broke.

“So close,” he griped, “so close.” He took one last look out over the field. His face slowly lit up. Something was moving over to his right. With a gentle tap of his heels, he put Cochise into an easy walk. 

Just before he reached the Tom’s haven, he reined in the gelding, dismounted, and grabbed the rifle out of its scabbard. Gun at the ready, he strode into the brush and long grass, stomping about, making as much noise as possible, trying to flush the bird.

Suddenly, flapping its wings and emitting a loud, shrill gobble, the turkey charged out of the field, straight at Cochise. The paint reared its head, kicked out at the bird, and bolted, hightailing it for home.

Joe exhaled loudly. “Pa’s gonna skin me alive,” he mumbled to himself as he watched his horse gallop off. “Slowly,” he added, as an afterthought, when a soft, wet snowflake fell on his face, followed by a second flake landing on his long lashes. Moments later, a myriad of snowflakes fell to the ground—the storm had begun.   

   He pulled his collar up around his neck, tightened his coat, and set off for the main road. ‘If he was lucky,’ he thought, ‘he’d run into someone and get a ride back to the Ponderosa. At the very least he’d be on a well-marked road, not trying to find his way through featureless forest and brush. 

The storm quickly intensified, letting loose with all its fury. Snow rained down, drifting into deep piles, and a cold, bitter wind sprung up out of the northwest. It scooped up the snow and hurled it about every which way, reducing visibility to a few feet.

Joe was cold and disgruntled. His pant legs were soaked to his knees from ploughing through the drifting snow; his shirt was wet from snippets of snow straying under his collar; the blowing snow stung his face, and the driving wind tore right through his coat. And although he had been tramping through the raging storm for what seemed like hours, he had seen no sign of the road. 

Hoping to get a better sense of where he was, Joe stopped and scanned the area. He peered through the blowing snow, straining to see as his eyes passed over snow-ladened brush and pines. ‘Wait a moment,’ he thought, and glanced back at an old pine not far from where he was standing. He plodded over to it. Reaching out, he ran his fingers along the trunk and felt the indentations. His lips curved into a tentative smile, and slowly, he traced the letters, J O S E P H C A R T W R I G H T.  Relief flooded through him—he knew where he was, and the road wasn’t that far ahead. Cold, but optimistic, he resumed his trek through the winter storm.

  “What the heck!” he shouted as he catapulted through the air, landing in a deep snowdrift. He glanced back, scrutinizing the area, but there was no sign of whatever had tripped him up. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath and then tried to stand. Pain shot through his right ankle, and he dropped back into the snow. Before long the pain subsided, and he tried again. He placed his weight on his good foot and carefully pushed himself up. Balancing on his left foot with as little weight as possible on his right, he took in the surrounding area, and smiled. The wind had died down. The snow was still falling, but it was no longer swirling about and obscuring his view. And there, closer than he had hoped, was the main road. He struggled out of the snowdrift and started hobbling towards it, each step a little quicker than the previous one, and that was his downfall. 

  ”#@@$%$!’ he yelped as his left foot shot out from under him. He tumbled into a nearby tree, banging his already injured ankle. Waves of pain swept over him. Everything went foggy, and he lost consciousness. 

  “Wake up! You’ll freeze if you don’t get up.”  

The loud, demanding voice slowly broke into Joe’s consciousness, and his eyes opened. 

“All right, you don’t have to yell,” he said and looked around to see who owned the grating voice. But the only thing in sight was a deer, the weirdest-looking deer he had ever seen. A good-sized buck, it had huge antlers, wide, divided hooves and long, thick hair all over its body. Heck, there was even hair on its hooves and on its nose.

“Strangest-looking deer I’ve ever seen,” Joe mumbled to himself, inspecting the creature from top to bottom and from left to right. 

“Not a deer, boy, a reindeer.”

Joe gaped at the small man, wearing a strange-looking hat, who had suddenly appeared on the back of the deer.

“Where did you come from and what are you doing sitting on the back of a deer?” Joe stammered, partly from the cold, partly from surprise.

“It’s a reindeer, not a deer, and we’re from the North Pole. Blitzen, here, spotted you while we were flying overhead. Now hop on behind me.”

Joe eyed the odd-looking little man and the even odder deer. ‘They couldn’t possibly be real,’ he mused. ‘He had to be dreaming.’ 

“Well?” the little man challenged.

‘Why not?’ he reflected. ‘It’s only a dream.’

“Okay,” he said, pushed himself up, and hobbled over to the reindeer.  

“Hurt your ankle, did you, boy? You do get yourself into trouble, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.” Joe admitted, as the little man helped him onto the reindeer’s back. “But how do you know?

“Santa knows everything, and so do his helpers.”

Joe rolled his eyes and said, “My name’s Joseph. What should I call you?”

“Inuksuk, and this is Blitzen,” he answered. “You all set?”

Joe nodded. 

Inuksuk shouted, “On Blitzen,” and the reindeer shot off the ground, straight into the air.

  “Wow,” Joe exclaimed, “this dream is getting better all the time.”

“And it’s going to get even better,” the little man assured him as Blitzen touched down in front of a tiny, white house. “Welcome to the North Pole.”

Joe regarded him incredulously. “North Pole? But we just left the Ponderosa a few moments ago.”

“Christmas magic.” 

Rolling his eyes, Joe lifted his right leg over the reindeer’s withers and jumped off.

“Dang,” he muttered as pain shot through his ankle.

“Forgot about our ankle, didn’t we?” Inuksuk observed and helped him into the little house. 

Joe stepped through the doorway and stopped.  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. ‘This is impossible,’ he thought. ‘Something can’t be bigger on the inside than on the outside.’ Dumbfounded, he limped over to the nearest chair and sunk into the soft leather upholstery, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The house was no bigger than a line shack on the outside. But it was enormous on the inside. Impossible! 

“You just sit there and rest while I let the boss know you’re here,” Inuksuk said, interrupting Joe’s thoughts. “We don’t want you getting lost now, do we?”

Joe gazed around the room, and his eyes immediately fell on a large red book sitting on top of a massive desk. He could read the title from where he was sitting, NAUGHTY AND NICE. Quietly, he pulled himself out of the chair and hobbled over to the book. He gazed over at the door, listening intently. Nothing. He waited another few seconds and then opened the book. He started with the present, 1859, and worked backwards to the year he was born, 1842. 

‘That’s strange,’ he thought, frowning. His name was at the top of the naughty list almost every year. Well, that wasn’t really unexpected, but finding it also listed at the bottom of the nice list was. ‘How could his name be on both lists for the same year?’ he wondered.

“Young man, did Inuksuk not tell you to remain in that chair?!”

Startled, Joe shot around and landed on his injured ankle. He grabbed the desk for support and breathed in deeply. 

“Yes, sir,” he answered. looking up into the face of an ageless man with twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard. 

“Then please sit down. That ankle needs rest.”

“Who are you?”

“Nicholas, or if you prefer, Santa,” the white-haired man said, taking Joe’s arm and helping him back to the chair. 

Joe looked up into the startling blue eyes. “Santa?” he quipped. “I’m seventeen, sir, not seven.”

“Believe or don’t believe, young man,” the old man stated and turned towards the door. “Ah, Inuksuk, bring the bowl over here.” 

Joe gaped at the bubbling concoction as Inuksuk carried it over and set it on the floor.“What’s in that?” he demanded.

“Herbs. They will make your ankle feel better,” Nicholas assured him, gently removing his boot and placing his foot in the water.

“Doggone it!” Joe protested, yanking his foot out of the water. “that feels like someone’s sticking needles in my foot,”

“The tingling will go away in a few minutes, and the herbs will draw out the soreness,” Nicholas assured him, gently placing his foot back in the water and holding it there. 

“Look, my ankle is fine. I don’t need any…”Joe began to argue, but then the herbs started to work their magic, and he sat back and relaxed.

“Sir?”

Nicholas looked up at him. 

“Not that I was snooping, but I happened to get a look at your book and”

“And you were wondering why your name was at the top of the naughty list and also at the bottom of the nice list.”

“Well, yes.”

“You’re on the naughty list, young man, because not only are you always in trouble,” Nicholas admonished, pointing his finger at Joe, “but you drag your friends into it with you. And that poor brother of yours, I will not even begin to try to describe the trouble you get him into. But,” he continued with a warm smile on his face. “You have such a loving heart and innate kindness about you that I could never leave you off the nice list. Hence your name appears on both lists.”

Joe gave the big man a smug look.

“You know, Hoss doesn’t really mind when I drag him into my schemes.”

  “Yes, I do know, but that doesn’t excuse your dragging him into them. Now just sit back and relax. It’s Christmas Eve, and we have a big night ahead of us.”

“Christmas Eve,” Joe repeated, and numerous joy-filled memories floated through his mind as his eyes slowly drifted shut. 

“Time we were on our way,” Inuksuk advised, popping into the room. 

“Everything ready?”

“Yes, Boss.”

Nicholas nodded, tapped the side of his nose, and relocated himself, Inuksuk, and Joe into a large red sleigh. He picked up the reins and shouted, “Now, Dasher!…”

“We’re here,” Inuksuk announced, unnecessarily, as they landed on the roof of the Cartwright home. “I’ll take the boy.”

Nicholas nodded and then materialized in the great room. Seconds later, Inuksuk appeared beside him. 

“Everything taken care of upstairs?” he asked.

The little man nodded. 

Nicholas smiled and turned towards the big clock, staring intently at its hands. Slowly, they started moving backwards, one hour, two hours… twenty-four hours. “Done,” he said, and he and Inuksuk instantly disappeared and reappeared in the sleigh.

“Did you take care of the other?”

“Sure did, Boss.”

Nicholas picked up the reins, gave the command, and the red sleigh and eight reindeer took flight.

“That has got to be the strangest dream I’ve ever had,” Joe mumbled to himself as he sprinted down the stairs to breakfast. 

“What’s that about a dream?” Hoss asked, filling his plate with eggs and ham.

“Nothing,” Joe said, making light of the dream. He wasn’t about to let anyone know about that particular dream, ever. “You ready to track down our Christmas dinner, Big Brother?”

“Sorry, boys,” Ben interrupted. “But there won’t be any turkey hunt today. There’s a winter storm brewing, and it looks to be a bad one.”

“A storm?” Joe mumbled, heading for the door to have a look for himself. 

“The clouds are hovering in the northwest,” he informed his father and brother as he returned to the table. “We can go out, get a turkey, and be back long before it hits.”

“Absolutely not!” Ben declared. “That storm could start moving at any time, and then where would you be?

An answer crossed Joe’s mind, but wisely he left it there. 

“Pa’s right, Joe.” 

“Good, then it’s settled.” Ben declared.

But it wasn’t settled as far as Joe was concerned. He was, after all, seventeen and knew everything. And he knew he could get a turkey and be back before the storm hit. He just had to find a way of slipping out unseen.

Forty minutes later, gun in hand, he slipped out the kitchen door and headed towards the barn. Halfway there he froze. ‘It couldn’t be,’ he thought and crept around to

the back of the barn. He stopped and stared in disbelief.

Then, grinning, he raised his rifle, took aim, and fired. 

“Our turkey dinner,” he remarked to himself. picking up the bird. “Merry Christmas to me and a—“

“And a ho, ho, ho.” Joe flung around at the sound of the words. 

“Inuksuk?” he stammered as his eyes lit on the little man, standing at the edge of the barn.

“Greetings from the North Pole, my boy,” the little man said, then winked and vanished. 

Joe stood, bird in hand, staring at the empty spot. “He can’t be real,” he thought out loud. “It was just a dream. It had to have been a dream.”

“What had to be a dream, Little Brother?” Hoss asked as he hustled towards Joe. “Wow,” he continued, not giving his brother a chance to answer, ”that’s the biggest turkey I’ve ever seen. How did you know it was back here?”

“Heard it gobbling.” 

“Pa, Adam, look at that turkey Joe shot. Have you ever seen one that big?” Hoss asked, turning towards his father and older brother. “Looks like we’ll be having turkey this Christmas after all,” 

Joe glanced at his father and waited. He knew his father knew he had been sneaking out to hunt down a turkey. And he knew what was coming next. 

“No, I haven’t,” Ben replied. “Good shooting, Joseph.” 

“Th-Thanks, Pa,” he replied, bewildered.

Ben put his arm around his youngest son, smiled, and whispered, “Merry Christmas,” in his ear. 

Joe smiled back and put his arm around the greatest father ever.

THE END

by

Beppina

An explosion of angry Chinese exploded from the Ponderosa kitchen. It was soon followed by the sound of something hard hitting something soft. A yelp came next along with a hasty retreat from Hop Sing’s domain.

“You stay out of kitchen, Little Joe. Go away.” The angry little cook pursued the youngest Cartwright son.

Three heads popped up from their seats surrounding the bright, blazing log fire. Ben watched his cook chastise his son from the comfort of his blue velvet armchair. A smile of wry humour at the threatening wooden spoon. It made a change from the meat cleaver Hop Sing would brandish at Hoss when he ventured too close.

“I take it you’re in the way then?” Adam commented from his place opposite his father. A book of Shakespeare’s sonnets laid open on his lap.

“Caught again, Joseph?” Hoss added his remark with a grin, knowing he was normally at the receiving end of Hop Sing’s ire.

“Little Joe in the kitchen, again.” Hop Sing complained, “You send him out to do some work. Keep out of the kitchen or no dinner tonight.”

“Of course, Hop Sing. What do you suggest I do with him, seeing how we’ve got a foot of snow out there?”

“Go get a turkey for Christmas dinner. Only three days left, maybe the beef isn’t enough. Send number three son to get a turkey.”

“In this weather?” A high-pitched squeak escaped from Joe’s mouth, “You want me to go out in this weather, for a turkey?”

“You do want Christmas dinner, Joseph?” Ben questioned, with a tilt of his head.

“I saw some over by the lake a week or so back,” Hoss offered, “not too far from the first line shack.”

“Take some corn lure, I’m sure they’ll be hungry in this cold,” Adam added his dime’s worth of information.

Grimacing at the thought of the bitter cold, Joe shivered, pulled a face and grabbed his gun belt and jacket from the dresser. The look from his father was sufficient to make him grab his winter coat and scarf.

“If I’m not back by nightfall, someone please come looking for me?” These were his final words as he ventured out into the elements.

“D’you reckon he’ll find one, Pa?” Hoss asked, though he was reluctant to leave the warmth of the hearth, “I could go with him, I suppose.”

“He’ll be fine. You know how he gets this time of year, worse than a ten-year-old searching for the presents,” Adam muttered turning another page of his book.

The snowfall was quite light with only a slight breeze, visibility was good, and the ground was firm underfoot, so Cochise had no problem covering the four miles to the pine stand Hoss had spoken of. He hoped the turkey would still be hiding among the trees or better still, easy to see on the nearby pasture. Joe wasn’t too cold. As much as he didn’t like the thick wool coat his father insisted he wore, he had to admit it did keep him warm on days such as this.

He breathed deep, the crisp clean air filled his lungs with the soft scents of pine that still hung in the breeze. After days of being cooped up in the house, he was grateful to be out in the fresh air.

Cochise ambled onwards, his pace easy and unhurried. Like his owner, he was happy for the extra exercise after time in the barn or corral. Joe checked the snow for signs of the birds. Not a single print, scat, or feather spoilt the pristine covering. Onwards they rode. Now they were in the area Hoss had indicated. Pines created a barrier to one side, a meadow leading to the lake the other. Dark shadows played where the trees met the meadow and rocks. It was the perfect hiding place for the elusive Christmas lunch.

Skirting around the rocks, Joe dismounted and grabbed his snowshoes. Cumbersome as they were for walking in they did stop him from sinking further into the white blanket covering the ground. His were the only prints visible. With caution, he moved closer to the tree line eye scanning for movement or tracks. Patience was not part of Joe Cartwright’s character, but he knew he would have to bide his time if he was to catch an unsuspecting bird.

He moved closer to the tree line, there under the pines a whole mess of prints covered the snow.

“Yes!” he exhaled a cloud of steamy breath, “Turkey for Christmas dinner.” It took only moments to rig some snares under the low branches and among the undergrowth. A handful of chicken feed sprinkled around would suffice as a lure. All he needed to do now was wait.

The line shack was located on the other side of the trees. It wouldn’t take long to ride there. He could stay warm, have something to eat, then come back and check his snares. With his plan in place, Joe trudged back to Cochise who stood waiting in the lee of the trees.

Once mounted, Joe turned his horse towards the small wooden building. It was located hidden behind a thick hedge in a stripped clearing. Unless you knew of it you wouldn’t guess it was there. Cochise walked onwards. The silence was deafening. Just the scrunch, scrunch as he placed one hoof after the other into the crisp yielding snow. The birds were silent, not a peep or chirrup. Not a flutter of wings amongst the laden branches. To Joe, it was like being the only man on earth until… A cry, the sound of sobbing. A plaintive wail broke the tranquillity.

“Hey.” Joe called out, “Where are you?” He twisted in the saddle, straining to look for another human being. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you. I can help you.”

“I’m here.” A childlike voice piped up and a small, bedraggled, dark-haired boy appeared from behind a clump of spikey bushes.

“What the?” Joe jumped to the child’s side, “What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?”

Without waiting for a reply, Joe pulled the boy into his arms, wrapped his coat around him, and held him close. He could feel the chilled shivering as the child leaned into his warmth.

“I, I, I was trying to find something to eat and some dry wood for a fire.” He explained between sobs and shivers. “My mama is in our wagon with my sister.”

“Where’s your Pa?”

“Um, we don’t know. He left us three days ago to get help. Our wagon lost a wheel an’ then the horse died, an’ Pa went off.”

“Where’s your wagon? We need to get you and your Ma somewhere warm.”

“I can show you.”

Putting the boy on Cochise, Joe climbed behind him. He wrapped him securely with one arm then turned his mount in the direction the boy pointed.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Jedadiah Miller, sir.”

“Well, Jedadiah, I’m Joe Cartwright. You can call me Joe, OK?”

“Yes, sir, I mean Joe. My ma calls me Jed for short.”

Ten minutes later Joe spotted the damaged wagon. As Jed had told him, one wheel was missing. The wagon was stood on a slight angle. Someone, probably her husband, had placed boxes under the hub to keep it from tipping over. It looked in poor repair and certainly unsuitable for a Nevada winter.

“Ma, ma,” Jed shouted as they approached the battered vehicle. “I’ve got some help, Ma.”

The dirty canvas flap moved to one side. A shawl-covered head and a tired, drawn face peered out into the cold air.

“Jed? That you son?”

The boy jumped from Joe’s arms and ran to his mother.

“Joe’s going to help us, he said he would.”

“Mrs. Miller.” Joe introduced himself as he walked to the open flap, “I found Jed up by the lake. He said you’ve no food. I can help you.”

“My husband was getting help. He hasn’t come back yet. I’ve got to wait for him.”

“I  know, Jed told me everything. I’ll get you to somewhere warm and some food then we’ll see what we can do.”

Another sound interrupted Joe’s words, that of a small and young baby. The woman turned away to comfort the child.

“That’s Amelia, my sister,” Jed whispered, “she’s a month old now.”

“Mrs Miller, grab a few things for you and the baby. Jed, you help your ma, just a couple of bags for now and we’ll go somewhere safe.”

It didn’t take long to get their few necessary belongings together. With Mrs Miller on Cochise and Jed sat behind her, Joe led them through the snow to the line shack. It was slow going on foot, but they made their way step by step.

It took moments to get a fire burning in the pot belly stove ready to prepare some food and not too much longer to get a decent blaze in the stone hearth. The small space soon warmed up taking the chill from their clothing and bones.

“You’ll find some tins in that cupboard, beans and stuff. There’s snow that you can melt for water. I’ve got to go check my snares.” Joe pointed at a floor-mounted cupboard, “There should be flour for some biscuits.”

“Thank you, Mr Cartwright, I’ll get some food ready for us all. Thank you for helping us.”

“I won’t be long. There might be some meat if we’re lucky.”

The short ride back to his snares was uneventful. His mind worked on how to deal with the Millers and what might have happened to the husband. It then moved on to getting a message to his father. That was an easy enough problem to solve. Now to check the snares.

“Well, look at that!” Joe slid from Cochise and walked across to the snares. Two plump, well-feathered turkeys hung from the snares. Four equally plump rabbits lay dead on the ground. “Fresh meat for dinner.” Joe squatted in the snow and soon had the rabbits skinned and gutted. He left the bloody offal in the snow ready for any passing wolf to make a meal of.

By the time Joe returned to the shack, darkness was drawing in. It would take far too long to get home with him walking, Mrs Miller and Jed on Cochise. He had previously decided on a course of action, now it was time to put it into action. Rootling in his saddlebag Joe found his stock pad and pencil. It took a minute to write a note to his father and slip it into his bag.

“Home, Cooch. Go on home, boy.” Joe slapped the horse’s rump and sent him on his way. Now it all rested on Cooch getting home, Pa reading the note and then them all coming out to find him.

The evening passed in comfortable companionship. Two fat rabbits with beans, biscuits and some dried vegetables made a good meal for them all. Joe learnt Mrs Miller’s name was Harriet, and her husband’s was Matthew. They had travelled west for over a year and had hoped to get to California before the baby had arrived. Amelia had other ideas and had held them up. They’d taken a wrong turn in the previous week’s snowstorm and somehow had strayed onto and got lost on the Ponderosa. Matthew had gone off to find help days before. She thought he’d gone in an easterly direction but couldn’t be sure. They were so disorientated; it could have been south. She had no idea if he had backtracked their wheel ruts or gone in the opposite direction. Joe said nothing at this information, if Matthew had turned to the right he would have reached the ranch house.

Darkness fell. The full Cold Moon rose cold and bright. Shadows fell beneath the trees sheltering the small animals out foraging for food. The snow glistened in the moonlight, like a thousand diamonds scattered across the land. The occupants of the shack settled in for the night. Harriet and the baby shared the cot nearest the stove. Young Jed the other cot near the fire. Joe unfurled his bedroll and stretched out on the floor by the fire. It didn’t take long for all to fall asleep in the warmth of the cabin. Before dropping off Joe sent a silent prayer of thanks to his father for insisting that the line shacks be kept fully stocked with food and wood. Without this shelter for the night, things could have proved difficult.

“Sounds like Joe’s back.” Hoss stood and stretched his big frame, “I wonder if he got a bird for Hop Sing?”

“I’m sure Hop Sing will have something to say if he hasn’t,” Adam added with a smirk.

“Let him get in and we’ll soon find out,” Ben put in. “Hoss, go and see if he needs any help, please.”

Hoss opened the front door, and a gust of cold air blasted in.

“Shut that door!” Adam grumbled at the sudden draught.

“Pa, it’s Cochise, not Joe.”

“What?” Ben rushed to his son’s side, “Where is he?”

“There’s a note. Here, Pa, you read it.”

“Get one of the men to put Cochise up then come inside.”

“Pa, I’m at the line shack with some visitors. A woman, a baby, and a young boy. We’re all ok. Bring the sledge. Tell Hop Sing two turkeys. Joe.”

“What’s he done now?” Adam muttered, “He can’t do anything the easy way, can he?”

“We’ll find out tomorrow morning, won’t we?” Ben shot back, “Now I suggest we get to bed to make an early start in the morning. Goodnight, boys.”

In unison came the “Goodnight, Pa.” As Adam and Hoss made their way up the stairs to their rooms.

Morning found Ben out in the yard before the sun had risen above the pines. It was still bitter cold though no further snow had fallen overnight. His breath clouded around his head as he fixed the traces to the red-painted sledge. One by one the two big Percheron horses were backed into place. Steam rose from their still-warm bodies as Ben buckled the leather lines.

“Hoss, Adam, come on. We’re wasting time.” Ben shouted to the house.

Hop Sing ran out from the kitchen, “You take these. Hot coffee for you all. Sandwiches for a quick snack. Hop Sing make good breakfast when you get home with Little Joe.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing. We’ll look forward to that, I’m sure. Adam. Hoss, come on, now!” Ben’s anxiety coloured his sharp words as he shouted for his sons. Joe’s message had calmed him to some extent, but now he wanted his youngest son home and of any danger.

The grey Percherons were steady sure-footed animals that made easy work of the snow and sludgy track. They made good time and were soon at the line shack ready for their rescue mission.

Later that morning, the sledge with Ben driving pulled up outside the house. Hop Sing waited by the door to take the woman and baby into the house. A good hot meal was ready in the oven to feed them all. Once Harriet, Amelia, and Jed were settled in Joe called them down for breakfast to tell their story. Hoss sat with Jed to one side, since their rescue the boy had taken a shine to the largest of the Cartwright sons. He watched in awe as Hoss made short work of his breakfast before being invited to help do the yard chores. A glance at his mother got the approval he sought, so once wrapped in an old coat of Joe’s he ventured out into the cold.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr Cartwright.” Harriet Miller turned to Ben, “I dread to think what could have happened had Joe not found us.”

“You can thank Hop Sing for wanting an extra turkey, otherwise I doubt Joe would have been over by the lake. Anyway, thanks aren’t necessary, we couldn’t leave you there, could we? I think it would be best if you stayed here with us for the holiday, we’ve plenty of room. Then we’ll get you back to Virginia City and start a search for your husband.”

“That is truly kind of you. I can help Hop Sing if he will permit me, I need to help to pay back your kindness.”

“Good, that’s settled. Now let’s see if we can rustle up some presents for the children.”

The brothers had found a suitable tree a few days earlier. Traditionally, they never dressed it until Christmas Eve and hoped it would last the twelve days until Epiphany without shedding too many needles. Now with the extra guests it was decided to bring it in from the cold and let them help in the Christmas preparations.

By lunchtime of the twenty-third, the whole living space had become a winter wonderland. Pine boughs adorned the stone shelf above the hearth. Popcorn ribbons wound their way down the stairs intertwined with sprigs of pine. Vibrant crimson and green ribbon bows had been pinned to the dresser ends, while more brightly coloured ribbons cascaded from the chandeliers above the dining table and settee. The best dinner service had been washed and ready for use, the glasses polished until they shone. Ben had retrieved his favourite wines from the cellar and found another bottle of his best French brandy. Some champagne remained hidden by the back door, chilled and ready for the Christmas toast.

The final labour was that of dressing the tree. The three sons and one little boy worked together to complete this task. Suggestions were made and small changes implemented amidst laughter and teasing. Brightly coloured baubles and bangles, delicate glass ornaments and little wooden carved toys were festooned on every branch. Small candles had been attached to numerous branch tips.

“Something’s missing,” Joe announced as he stood back to admire their work, “Any idea what, Jed?

Adam and Hoss stood to one side, both their faces poker straight. Jed moved around the sides and front of the tree. He shook his head, then frowned. Nothing he could see was wrong, nothing was missing. With a swift wink and nod of his head, Hoss motioned for the boy to look to the treetop, a certain treasure waited to be placed on the topmost point.

“The Angel,” Jed shouted gleefully, “we haven’t put the Angel on the top.”

“Come on then,” Adam hoisted the boy onto his shoulders and held him firm as Jed stretched across and placed the small Angel doll in place. The family, Hop Sing, Harriet Miller, Jedadiah, and the baby, were gathered around the tree.

“Well,” Ben spoke, “now we are ready for Christmas. If we’ve all been good maybe Santa Claus will bring us some nice gifts. If we haven’t then it will be a piece of coal for certain.” His eyes flashed across to his youngest son, a slight upturn of his smile showed he wasn’t too serious.

Christmas Eve arrived with a fresh snowfall and a strong gusty wind. Most of the day was spent in the warmth of the house, with only the necessary yard jobs being done. Joe had disappeared into the loft space to find the toys still stored from childhood. Possibly something would be suitable for Jed. Hoss was busy whitling something small by the fireside. Adam was putting a small book together. Ben sat and read or chatted with Harriet when she was chased from the kitchen. By late afternoon it was a cosy family scene, all sat around the blazing hearth. The baby slept peacefully. Hoss and Joe taught Jed the rudiments of checkers. Adam and Harriet discussed the latest Dickens novel and Ben just watched and enjoyed the ambience.

“Mr Cartwright, what time is Mr Roy arriving?” Hop Sing poked his head around from the kitchen.

“He said for six o’clock, Hop Sing. In time for dinner.”

“I’ll get the table set.” Harriet stood, “Hop Sing, any particular dishes I need to put out tonight?”

“No, just the normal plates. Thank you, Missy Harriet.”

With the table set ready to eat, Harriet withdrew to her room. Amelia was washed, changed and fed, then settled to sleep in the deep padded draw that served as a crib. The fire in the hearth kept the chill from the room without making it too warm. Harriet washed and wore a pretty green and gold patterned dress before she redid her hair. She then checked on her sleeping child. Happy the child was safe and warm and leaving the door open she returned to the company below.

The Cartwrights had all washed and were in clean clothes. Hoss had supervised Jed and reminded him to wash behind his ears before putting on his fresh pants and shirt.

The room seemed to have become warmer, more festive, and more welcoming if that were possible after they regrouped by the fire. Ben had poured them all a glass of the ruby-hued sherry. Even Jed was allowed a tiny sip in a small glass as they toasted the festively decorated tree and each other.

The soft plop of hooves was heard from outside, followed by footsteps on the deck. A loud rapping on the front door announced the arrival of Sheriff Roy Coffee. Hop Sing flung wide the door and ushered the family friend into the room. Behind the sheriff hovered another man.

“Come in, come in. Too cold with door open.” He had urged, anxious to shut the cold air and snow from the room.

“Ben, boys, good to see you all. It’s looking very festive in here.” Roy greeted as Ben gripped his hand in welcome, “ I’ve brought someone with me. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Come on in, Roy. Who have you got here then?”

“Matthew Miller, Ben. He says his family are lost somewhere on the Ponderosa, he…”

“Matthew, Matthew, is it you? You’re alive. Oh my heavens, you’re alive!” Harriet ran from the fireside to the men in the doorway.

“Hattie, Hattie,” The young man pulled her tightly to him, “ I got lost, I was so worried I was too late.”

Ben ushered the couple around to the fire. Jed burst into tears as he set eyes on his father and reached out to him. Harriet was wrapped in one arm, the boy in the other. “Amelia?”

“Asleep, upstairs. Oh, Matthew.” Now Harriet was also in tears of joy along with her husband and son.

With a quick nod, Ben, his boys and Roy moved to the dining room, giving the reunited family a little privacy.

“What happened?” Ben questioned Roy.

“He got picked up on the Virginia City road some days back. He was pretty badly off but insisted he had to find his family. I told him we would look for them from here, so I bought him with me. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, Roy. Joe found Harriet and the children a couple of bays back. We were bringing them into town after Christmas then get a search party out for her husband.”

“I‘ve got to be honest. I didn’t hold out much hope for them. He said they weren’t prepared for the cold.”

“Yeah, Joe said their wagon wasn’t too good. We managed to salvage some of their things. The rest is still on the wagon. Fortunately, Hop Sing wanted a turkey, so Joe went hunting for one. He just happened on the boy.”

“Reckon Hop Sing had second sight then. Another turkey and a rescue rolled together.”

Matthew and Roy both warmed themselves by the hearth and waited for the little cook to call them through to eat. An extra place was soon set, and they all took their places. Ben said grace and added a little thank you for the safe return of Matthew Miller to his family. Dinner was a happy occasion. Harriet couldn’t keep from looking at her husband, and Matthew constantly gazed at his wife and son. Ben, his sons and Roy carried the conversation. Tomorrow would be another day of celebration. More friends would be joining the family, Paul Martin, and Widow Hawkins to name but two.

Before Joe climbed the stairs to bed, Ben pulled him into a warm hug. “Now aren’t you pleased you got sent out to catch another turkey or two?”

“Guess I am, Pa. It’s made for a special Christmas for us all.”

“Good night, son, sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Pa.”

                                                            The End.