Santa's Helpers     
by
Helen Adams   
 
 
12/01


"I don’t believe this!" griped Joe Cartwright for the fifth time in as many minutes. "How could we be stranded out here in the middle of nowhere two days before Christmas? Nobody gets stuck in a ghost town in the middle of winter! Nobody! Whose idea was this trip anyway?"

"Yours," chorused his two brothers flatly. Joe subsided, sinking down onto the snow covered remains of a bench that was attached to the outer wall of what might once have been a store, and thrusting his cold hands into his pockets as he sat back to sulk. Finding the frozen seat a little too uncomfortable for the limited protection offered by jeans and long johns, he soon jumped back up and started pacing through the snow, grumbling more with every step.

"Will you knock that off?" bellowed Hoss finally, his breath forming a frosty plume as he collared his younger brother and forced him to remain in one spot. "It’s bad enough that your bright idea for a shortcut through the woods has thrown us off the trail home by lord knows how far, and that we’ll probably miss Christmas. It’s even worse that Pa don’t know where we are and is probably gonna fret himself sick worryin’ about us when we don’t show up tomorrow. And it absolutely don’t bear thinkin’ about that we don’t have enough food for a single square meal among the lot of us. I don’t want to put up with your bellyaching on top of it! Not one single word more of it, you hear me, Joseph?"

Temper flaring, Joe rose up as high as he could on his tiptoes to stare Hoss in the eye. "Look, you! It wasn’t me who insisted that all three of us take off together for Sacramento a week before Christmas. I was perfectly willing to go by myself to deliver those contracts for Pa, but noooo! You weren’t going to let him rest until he agreed to send all of us, so don’t go whining to me about the conditions!"

"Well, what did you expect us to do?" Adam finally chimed in, irritation ringing through every syllable. "Were we supposed to just hang around home and work while you spent three days having fun and Christmas shopping by yourself in Sacramento? We’ve been at the ranch a darned sight longer than you have, boy. If anybody should have gone, it was us!"

"Well then you got nothing to get upset about, Adam, cause you did go! You came with me and you went shopping with me, breathing down my neck in every single store I entered. I couldn't sneak away for even half an hour to buy the two of you anything without you dogging my heels."

Hoss suddenly looked upset for a new reason. "You mean you didn't get us nothin'?"

Expression softening a trifle, Joe patted his big brother on the arm. "I managed," he reassured him, then turned back to level another fierce glare at Adam. "No thanks to you and all your yapping about how much money I wanted to spend on Hoss and Pa. You couldn't even let me select my own gifts without butting your nose in, could you? Every suggestion I made, you had a better idea. Only trouble is, we couldn’t find any of the things you wanted to get cause they’re all too hoity-toity. Just like you!"

Joe had taken a step closer with every word of his final sentence, his voice growing progressively louder until he was shouting in Adam's face. Adam retaliated, coolly placing one gloved hand directly over his younger brother's bellowing face and shoving him backwards into the snow. The younger man landed with an undignified squeak and a solid thump in a large pile of snow, causing both of his brothers to laugh uproariously. "Cool off, Joe," Adam ordered. "We settled on a gift for Pa finally, no thanks to you. Problem is, he may never see it because of you and your shortcut. There’s no way we can find our way through all this snow tonight, especially since it'll be dark in an hour. All we can do is camp in one of these empty buildings for the night and retrace our steps tomorrow."

"Assuming we don’t freeze or starve to death first," Hoss moaned gloomily. "These rickety ol' shacks probably ain’t seen a sign of life other than rabbits and mice in twenty years or more!"

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky and one of those rabbits will still be there, just waiting for you to spit him and roast him for dinner," Joe sniped. He climbed out of his snowbank and stood glowering at Hoss, who took no notice of the sarcastic comment, but continued to bemoan the lack of food and proper shelter. Joe hated being ignored at the best of times, but now the frustration of an entire week spent in various disagreements with his brothers caught up with him and he shouted, "Will you just shut up about food, already? I'm hungry too, y'know, but you don't hear me complaining about it."

Hoss' eyes narrowed. "No, but that's just about the only thing you ain't complained about today." He gave Joe a poke in the shoulder that nearly knocked him back into the snow. With a flash of fury in his eyes, Joe charged back, left arm swinging haphazardly at his large sibling's nose. He was off balance due to his bad footing and the blow merely glanced off Hoss' cheekbone, but it was enough. Hoss swung back, but Joe saw it coming and ducked just in time, chortling to see the blow hit Adam square in the chin, sending him flying into the snow bank Joe had just vacated. Before any of the brothers had time to do more than blink, they were rolling through the snow, swearing, and shouting and pummeling each other with punches that, despite their energetic delivery, very rarely connected.

It was Adam who accidentally started the snowball fight. He dug a cold lump of it out of his collar and hurled it into Joe’s face. Joe grabbed a larger handful and flung it back at him, then they both threw snowballs at Hoss. As fast as their fighting had started, it ended as the urge to play suddenly overtook them. The three of them laughed like little boys as they ducked and hurled snowballs in every direction. Loud guffaws ringing through the still air, Hoss suddenly fell over backward into a smooth layer of snow and waved a large white handkerchief in surrender. Joe and Adam each offered their brother a helping hand up as he carefully removed himself from the snow, and their smiles turned to huge grins as they beheld the form imprinted there; which looked very much like Santa Claus with a ten gallon hat on his head.

"This is stupid, you know," Joe said breathlessly as he plopped down to sit on the edge of the board sidewalk and began brushing snow away from his hair and clothing. "Pa would kill us if he'd seen us having a brawl this close to Christmas."

"Well, you started it," Adam pointed out, also taking a seat on the boardwalk. "I was just defending myself."

Joe snorted, giving Adam a weak shove. "Sure you were, and I suppose that elbow in the breadbasket when I turned to look at Hoss was just an accident?"

Adam's shrug was a trifle guilty as he suddenly became very interested in making sure that not a single flake of snow remained on the black hat he held in his hands. Hoss spoke up loudly before either of the others could do anything to start the fighting again. "What do you say we all just take a little ride down the street and pick the best place to spend the night?"

"Sounds good to me." Joe placed a hand on Adam's shoulder and shoved down hard, levering himself to his feet with enough force to support the idea that he'd suddenly gained two hundred pounds.

Wrenching himself upright, Adam narrowed his eyes at the young man who smiled innocently at him. He too stood and began walking toward his horse, growling, "Let's go."


~*~*~*~*~

Most of the old town proved to be just as ramshackle and worthless for shelter as Hoss had predicted. The wind was picking up speed now and the snow had begun to fall heavily again, so at Adam's suggestion the Cartwrights split up, each man checking a different building to search more efficiently.

Joe glanced across the street, noting Adam disappearing into an old saloon, and wished with all his might that it was still in operation. "Sure could use a drink about now," he muttered, blowing on his chilled hands in a futile attempt to warm them. The next building on his side of the street was a small doctor's office, at least according to a faded sign on the wall, reading: 'Herman Stiles, MD'. Making a face, Joe nearly passed it by on general principle, but then decided he might as well have a look inside. Peering through the dark interior, he grinned then gave a little whoop, shouting, "Paydirt!"

“You find something, little brother?" Hoss' voice called as he left the old store he had been searching just in time to hear the exclamation.

"You betcha," he answered gleefully. "Come take a look."

Hoss walked inside, setting a large bundle down on a table, which along with a couple of broken down old wooden chairs was the only furniture in the room. There were a few cracks in the walls that let occasional blasts of cold air inside, but Hoss also started grinning when he spotted what his brother had seen tucked away in one corner of the room: an old pot-bellied stove. Clapping him on the back, Hoss poked his head back out the door and yelled, "Hey, Adam! C'mon over here, will ya? Joe's found us a good place to spend the night."

"Good job," Adam congratulated a moment later, as he too entered and set down a small bundle on the table. Seeing the curious look Joe was directing at the package, Adam untied what appeared to be a tablecloth and revealed several large, half-melted beeswax candles. "Found these over at the saloon. It had a side room with a couple of beds in it, but unfortunately the straw ticks were completely rotted out," he said regretfully. "We'll have to make due with our bedrolls, but at least we won't freeze."

"These'll come in real handy," Hoss approved. He pointed to his own bundle. "I found a room in back of the store with a whole heap of dry goods and a few canned goods sittin' in it. Found a couple bags of feed that don't seem too bad either. I left those over at the stable across the way and brought back a few extra blankets, couple cans of beans, and some peaches for us."

"And what is that for?" Adam asked, frowning at the final item Hoss pulled out from his blanket-wrapped bundle. "Is that a gold pan?"

"Yup," he agreed cheerfully. "For cookin' the beans in. Thought it might be useful if we found something to heat 'em on." Hoss set the flat widely rounded pan atop the cold stove in demonstration.

Grunting his understanding, Adam disappeared back outside, returning a moment later three sets of bedrolls and saddlebags in his hands. "Give me a hand with the saddles, will you?" Joe followed him outside and together they brought in all three. Adam picked up a few of the blankets off Hoss' stack and said, "I'm going to put the horses up in that stable. There's straw over there, a little old but it'll do. You think you can get the stove started and supper cooking without me?"

"I think we can figure it out," Joe replied blandly. Adam walked outside with a brisk nod, never even noticing the sour expression being aimed at his back. "Think you can get a fire started without me?" Joe repeated sarcastically. Grumbling under his breath, he began rooting through the saddlebags while Hoss set to breaking up one of the chairs. When he reached Adam's bag, Joe grinned wickedly and pulled out a newspaper he knew his brother had bought in Sacramento, and had been saving to finish later on. "Look Hoss, I found us some tinder to start the fire with."

Hoss checked to make sure the little stove was properly ventilated then accepted the paper with a grunt of thanks, pulling a match out of his vest pocket. He added several sticks from the broken chair, and soon the stove was radiating enough heat to make the tiny room almost comfortable.

Put back into a happier frame of mind by his small act of revenge, Joe whistled as he chopped the last of their bacon into small slices and added it to the beans and water Hoss was carefully measuring into the gold-pan.

"Supper should be ready in no time at all," Hoss commented after a short while, stirring the mixture slowly and giving it an experimental sniff. He looked around to see Joe carefully laying out all three bedrolls and the extra blankets in close proximity to the stove and grinned at him. "Lookin' better around here all the time. Downright cozy in fact."

"Got the horses settled," Adam said, coming back inside and immediately moving to the stove to warm his hands. "That storm is getting worse. I think we may be in for a longer stay than we first anticipated."

"But we can't be!" Joe said in dismay. "What about Christmas?"

Adam shrugged, but could not hide his own regret. "Earlier I thought there might be an outside chance we'd make it back to the main road tomorrow and maybe get home early tomorrow night. Now?" He let the word hang in the air then dropped it with a sigh as he picked up one of the rapidly warming blankets off the floor and wrapped it around his body. "I just wish we had some way to send word to Pa."

Depression filled the room as Hoss finished cooking the simple meal and divided it into more or less equal portions. Each man settled onto his own bedroll with his back against a wall and ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of forks against tin plates and the rattle and howl of the wind outside.

They sat staring at one another for a long time after the last scrap of bacon and beans had been ingested and the plates set aside. Adam got up to light a couple of candles, then hunkered back down into the warmth of his blankets again.

"Don't see why you two had to listen to me when I suggested that stupid short-cut," Joe grunted suddenly. "You haven't listened to a thing I said all week. Why'd you have to choose today?"

"Oh, so now it's our fault we're here?" Adam countered, glowering at his brother across the room. "If you weren't sure that trail through the woods was the right one, why did you suggest it in the first place?"

"I made a mistake, okay?" Joe snapped. "I thought it would lead to Mills' Crossing. If it had, then we'd have been able to take the cutoff to the road that leads into our southern border. If I'd been right it would have cut a good six hours off the journey."

"Yeah, IF. That's a mighty big 'if', Joe. How many times," Adam began but Hoss cut him off.

"It ain't his fault, Adam. Soon as he said it, I thought he was right about where we were headed. Besides, I didn't see you objecting to the notion of cutting a few hours off the trip. And I'm as much to blame as Joe is! I wasn't thinking of nothin' beyond surprising Pa by beating him home for supper."

"We'll surprise him all right," Adam muttered. "Surprise, Pa! Your sons didn't make it home for the holiday cause they listened to their lame-brained little brother and wound up getting lost and freezing their asses off in the middle of a deserted shantytown instead! Merry Christmas."

Face flushing, Joe jumped up from his corner and grabbed his bedroll and blanket. "Fine, it's all my fault! Is that what you wanted to hear? I think I'll just head across the street and spend the night with the horses. It's cold, but at least they'll be glad to have me around!"

Hoss scrambled up and grabbed his little brother before he could make it to the door. "Joe, dadburnit, just hold on a minute! There ain't no sense in that. It don't matter why we ended up here, OR whose fault it was." He shot a fierce glare at Adam as he said this. "It only matters that we stick together and try to see each other through. Pa wouldn't want it no other way and neither do I. Besides, it's almost Christmas, and this ain't no way to act. Now, tell each other you're sorry."

Bodily hauling Joe back to the warmth of the stove, Hoss looked from one brother to the other, his blue eyes flashing as he silently dared either of them to disobey. After a moment, Adam gave Joe a look that suggested he was swallowing something very large and bitter and held out his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, and I don't want you to go anywhere."

Joe eyed the hand suspiciously for a moment, then smiled and shook it. "Guess all our tempers are a little frayed tonight. I shouldn't have flown off the handle that way." He paused and added, "Besides, I didn't really want to spend the night with Cochise anyway. He snores."

All three of the brothers laughed, allowing the tension to dissipate.

Replacing his bedroll by the stove again, Joe wrapped his blanket back around his body and sat down, scrunching tightly into the corner. Deciding to lighten the mood, he asked, "So, what'd you guys get me for Christmas?"

Hoss laughed. "We ain't gonna tell you that! Christmas ain't until day after tomorrow."

He grinned. "So? If we don't make it home, I won't get to open them on time anyway. If you tell me, I can at least daydream about it."

Chuckling, Adam said, "Joe, that has got to be the lamest reason you've ever given for trying to sneak an early peek at your gifts, and you've had some pips!"

"Can't blame a fella for trying," he said coyly. Nonchalantly polishing his fingernails against his blanketed chest, Joe pretended to examine them closely. "Of course, if you're not going to tell me, then I guess that means you'll just have to wait, too. Those presents are just going to have to sit there in my saddlebags, unopened, waiting until after we get home. Whenever that is."

Joe had hit a nerve and the grin on his face showed that he was fully aware of it. If there was one thing that drove Adam Cartwright crazy, it was an unopened package. Despite his teasing of his younger brothers about their impatience, it was usually he who could not resist a quick shake of his gifts before the day arrived. Adam's eyes flicked involuntarily toward the table where Joe's saddlebags sat, the buckle catching the light of the candle next to it, almost as though it, too, was teasing him with the knowledge of what was contained inside.

"This is blackmail," he growled.

Eyes sparkling, Joe nodded. "I know."

"Bribery," Hoss said absently as he held his large hands out toward the fire and chaffed them briskly together. 

Brow knitting in confusion, Adam cocked his head in his brother's direction.  "Pardon?"

Hoss looked up, blinking owlishly in the dim candlelight.  "It ain't blackmail, older brother.  It's bribery.  Blackmail is when you force another fella do what you want him to do 'cause you got some kinda secret information about him.  Bribery is makin' him do what you say cause you got somethin' he wants."

It was Adam's turn to blink.  "Oh.  Yes, of course, you're right."

The high whimper from the corner made both of them glance over at Joe.  He was quivering where he sat, lips trembling and eyes nearly watering with suppressed mirth.  At the sight of Adam's scowling face, he lost his battle to keep the laughter in, hooting and howling until he fell over sideways with the force of his giggles.  "Oh!" he gasped, trying to get enough breath to speak. 

Hoss was chuckling too, unable to help himself.  "What's so funny, Little Joe?"

Joe levered himself up and scooted toward his large sibling, draping an affectionate arm around his shoulders.  "Hoss, as of right now, I don't care what you got me for Christmas, cause seeing you give a grammar lesson to the Professor here was worth more than all the silver on the Comstock."  With the last word screeched rather than spoken, he was off again, holding his aching sides as he dissolved into a fresh gale of laughter.

Hoss' answering blast of humor filled the whole room and soon Adam's attempts to hold a dignified and slightly insulted expression on his face failed.  He, too, began to laugh.  "Guess I had that coming."

Struggling to his knees and still snickering, Joe wiped his face with the backs of his hands.  "Glad to hear you say that, Adam, cause you just earned yourself an early gift."  He paused to look at Adam, one hand already inside his saddlebag. "Assuming that you want it, that is.  It can wait if you don't."

Visibly struggling with the temptation, Adam hedged.  "Is whatever it is my only present?  If it is, I'd just as soon wait until Christmas morning."

Joe's grin got wider.  "Now you sound like me.  I'm the one who always counts the gifts under the tree to see who got the most!  No, it's not your only present.  I've got two more waiting back at the Ponderosa for you."  He looked back at Hoss.  "You too, big brother.  Got one gift here and two more back home."

Hoss and Adam exchanged a look, each waiting to see if the other would give in to the temptation first.  "Well, it ain't like Santa is gonna leave coal in our stockings for it," Hoss said slowly.  "I guess it wouldn't hurt nothin' to get one gift now."

Smiling eagerly, Adam held out his hand to Joe and said, "Give."

Joe pulled something out just enough for the other two men to catch a brief wink of glass, then maddeningly shoved it back out of sight.  "Do I get an early present too?"

Eyes twinkling, Adam reached behind him and pulled out a gaily-wrapped present. "Well, look what I found!"

"When did you grab that?" Hoss asked in amazement.  "You didn't have nothing in your hands when you sat down."

"So you thought," he replied mysteriously.  He held silent for a moment, enjoying the silent puzzled communication passing back and forth between his brothers, then laughed. "I snuck it out of my pack when you two weren't looking."

He tossed the package to Joe, who hefted it in his hand and frowned slightly.  "It feels like a book."

"Well, don't sound so disappointed," Adam chided.  "Trust me, you'll like it."

"Well, all right," he said, and turned to dig through his bag again.  Pulling out a large square package wrapped in gold foil, he passed it over to Hoss, then revealed that the glint of shining glass had been part of a ribbon-bedecked bottle of brandy.  This, he passed to Adam.  "Merry Christmas, a little early."

Adam's mouth dropped open a bit as he read the label.  It was a very fine, and very expensive bottle of vintage brandy.  "I, but," he stammered, then said,  "This is Pa's, isn't it?  We agreed that it was too much money for you to be spending when you picked it out for him."

Laughing in delight at the reaction, Joe explained.  "I didn't agree.  I just put it down when you were looking my way, then picked it up again and paid for it when you stopped to examine that display of decanters.  And it was always your gift; I just said I was thinking of buying it for Pa to throw you off the scent."

"You little devil," he said, but there was no heat in the comment.  "Thank you, Joe."

"Hey, look what I got!" Hoss demanded in surprise.  "It's a cake, only somebody already cut it up into little bite size pieces."

Again Adam shook his head at Joe's deviousness.  "You must have picked these back up when I turned the other way, too, huh?" 

Joe nodded, grinning smugly.  "Those are called petite fours, Hoss.  I found them at that little French bakery down the street from our hotel.  Adam tried to talk me out of buying them 'cause they cost an arm and a leg, but I wanted you to have them.  The lady in the bakery gave me one to sample."  He rolled his eyes back in his head and rubbed his stomach, groaning in demonstration of how heavenly the treat had tasted.

"Thanks, Joe," Hoss said happily.  "Hey, what'd you get?"

Tearing off the wrapping, Joe found that his gift was indeed a book, but his eyes lit up when he saw the cover.  "Oh, wow!"  He held it up for them to see.  'New Orleans: A history.  Illustrated' was stamped on the cover in gold leaf.  "This is great, Adam."

"Told you so," he replied with a laugh.  "Why don't you read us some of it?  I was going to read the rest of my newspaper this evening, but I can't seem to find it."

Joe blushed as his brother raised a knowing eyebrow in his direction.  "Oh, uh, I thought you'd finished it," he fibbed.  Seeing Adam's eyes narrow, Joe dove back into his corner and hurriedly opened the book, skimming quickly through the title credits as he found the first chapter.  Clearing his throat loudly, he began to read in a lively, and he hoped distracting, voice all about the beautiful city of New Orleans.

Chuckling softly, Adam rose and rummaged in the saddlebags, looking for something to pour a sample of his brandy into.  He eyed his coffee cup dubiously, then shrugged.  Not perfect, but like everything else the brothers were sharing this cold December night, it would do.  Pouring out a generous dose of brandy into the cup, Adam took a sip, letting the liquor roll over his tongue.  It was exquisite.  If Joe had nothing else, he certainly had fine taste in alcohol.  Holding the cup out to Hoss, who was happily munching his third petite four, he smiled and said, "Trade you."

With a grin, Hoss passed over a couple of the tiny cakes and accepted the drink, smacking his lips in appreciation.  "Mighty fine.  Here, Joe."

Joe stopped reading and looked up, eyes brightening as he beheld the cup and two more of Hoss' treats on offer.  Accepting both, he nodded his thanks. 

When the cup was empty and the candles began to gutter, Adam put the former up on the table with the bottle of brandy beside it and snuffed out the latter, following the example his younger brothers had already set and climbing into his bedroll.  Scrunched near the small stove, all three young men lay awake for awhile, listening to the fierce howling and rattling of the wind outside.  Though they did not know it, their thoughts were all the same.  Each of them thought of their father, all alone but for Hop Sing, and hoped that by some miracle they would be able to make it home to spend Christmas with the man they loved most in all the world.  With dreams of loving holidays past filling their minds, the Cartwright brothers drifted off to sleep.


~*~*~*~*~


Surveying the tall, handsomely decorated Christmas tree dominating the main room of his home, Ben Cartwright narrowed his eyes critically, tipping his head to one side for a new perspective.  Something did not look right.  He had just finished placing the last of his packages for the boys underneath the ample boughs, spreading them to provide the appearance of holiday bounty, but there was still something wrong.

"Hop Sing!" he called.  "Could you come in here, please?"

The small Chinese man appeared at once from the kitchen, a plate of cookies in one hand and a coffeepot in the other.  "You no be so impatient," he scolded.  "Hop Sing have snack all ready."

Ben had forgotten that Hop Sing had been fixing him an afternoon snack.  He smiled and gestured his friend to his side, taking the plate from his hand and setting it down upon the coffee table.  "I wasn't calling you because of that.  I wanted you to take a look at the tree.  Something seems wrong about it, and I can't put my finger on the problem."

Setting down the coffee, Hop Sing crossed his arms over his chest and took a long serious study of the pine. Muttering, he slowly catalogued his findings.  "Star on top, candle, popcorn string, berries, bows, gift from father."  He stopped, grunting triumphantly as he spied the problem.  "Little boy ornaments missing."

"Of course!" Ben slapped his forehead disgustedly, wondering how he could have missed such an important part of the traditional Cartwright Christmas tree.  "I'll go and get them now and put them up before the boys get home this afternoon.  Thank you, Hop Sing.  If I'd forgotten those, I'm sure I'd be the one with nothing on Christmas morning but a lump of coal in my stocking!"

Hop Sing chuckled and waved Ben to his chair to enjoy the snack, indicating that he would go up and get the box.

Every year since they had first been able to fashion crude paper stars, and on through years of lumpy clay birds, candle-wax animals, and carved nativity scenes, Ben's sons had made him an ornament to hang on the tree.  They claimed to this day that the ornaments were in fact for Santa Claus, but it was always said with an affectionate wink and grin, alluding to the fact that they knew precisely who had played that beloved role throughout the years.  It was an unwritten but well-understood rule that the ornaments must be entirely hand-made, never store-bought, and must always be jointly crafted and presented.  For this, Ben had jokingly named them Santa's Helpers.  It never failed to light a warm glow in his heart to know that whatever arguments or differences his sons were having, they always dropped them to do this small thing for him.  He hoped that would never change.


~*~*~*~*~


Hoss shifted then frowned, trying to force his eyes open as he fuzzily wondered why his bed felt so hard, and why his front felt warm, hot almost, while his back felt like a large block of ice.  After a few seconds of concentrated effort he managed to get his left eyelid to cooperate with him and lift.  The sight of the still mostly dark office brought the previous day's events back in a rush, and a look down at his chest gave him the rest of his answer.  Sometime during the night Little Joe had apparently gotten cold, for he had edged out of his corner and squeezed his body in between the stove and Hoss' body.  He now lay snuggled up in a gently snoring ball, seemingly happy with his arrangement to judge by the smile on his sleeping face.  Shaking his head, Hoss chuckled at his brother's ingenuity.

"Sometimes I think the kid's a lot smarter than we give him credit for," Adam said, by way of announcing his own newly awakened state.  He smiled at Hoss across the short distance between one side of the squat stove and the other.  "I'll bet he's a lot warmer than I am right now."

Carefully pulling his arm free to prop his head on it, Hoss grinned.  "Yeah, ain't he cute, though?"

Snorting softly at the comment, Adam unrolled from his blankets and stood, stretching and groaning as he worked out the kinks from sleeping on a cold hard floor all night.  He added the last few pieces of the broken chair to the stove and yawned.  "You got any coffee?  I'm fresh out and I sure could use a cup."

"I got some," Joe mumbled, alerting his brothers that he, too, had awakened, though he had not moved as yet.  "'s' in the bag."

Hoss rose from the floor as well, now that he was no longer worried about disturbing his sleeping brother and began at once to search the saddlebags for coffee and any stray food items that might have been missed the day before.  Joe shivered and grumbled at finding nothing but cold air at his back suddenly, and it was that which finally got him stirring. 

"Nothin'," Hoss declared in disgust.  "Guess it's canned peaches and coffee for breakfast." 

"Doesn't sound so bad," Joe yawned, rubbing his eyes blearily as he finally followed his brothers' example and rose from his place by the stove.

"Maybe not for you," Hoss pouted.  "You don't eat more'n a baby hummingbird on a good day.  I'm gonna waste away before we find our way back to the Ponderosa and Hop Sing's good cooking."

Shaking his head but not yet awake enough to get involved in a rehashing of the complaints he'd been listening to for hours the day before, Joe muttered.  "I'm gonna go check the horses."

"There's a working water pump outside the stable," Adam informed him.  "Refill these while you're out there, will you?"

Joe turned in time to catch the two canteens that came flying at him, and he took his leave, grumbling all the way out the door about people who thought they had a right to boss other people the live long day, just because they were older.

"Don't forget smarter!" Adam yelled after him, grinning to see the rude gesture his youngest brother gave him in answer.  Taking a long look outside, Adam's smile widened.  Turning back to Hoss, he asked, "How did you sleep?"

With a shrug, Hoss said, "Not bad, I guess.  Kept havin' dreams all night."

"What about?"

"Pa, mostly," he confessed, a sad look entering his eyes.  "I was dreamin' about when we was kids and Pa would act so proud of those little foil stars we'd make him for the Christmas tree, just like they were the best thing he'd ever seen in his life."

Adam smiled fondly at the memory.  "He always had a way of making us feel good about what we gave him, no matter how poor or crudely made."

"Adam, how could we have forgot?"

"Forgot?" he asked, puzzled.  "Forgot what?"

"We been so busy travelin' and shopping and," Hoss paused, his cheeks taking on a vivid crimson blush of shame. "And fightin' with each other, that we forgot to make the Santa ornament for him."

Dismay filled Adam's dark hazel eyes.  "We did."  He began to pace, then stopped himself, making an effort to be practical as he said, "Well, it's not like we didn't get Pa anything else, and it's really just a child's tradition anyway, right?  Right?"

The look on Hoss' face answered the logical plea more flatly than any words could have. 

"Wrong," Adam sighed, nodding heavily in agreement.

"Hey, guys, look!"  Joe burst back inside a few minutes later; unaware of the gloomy atmosphere the small room had taken on his absence.  Tossing the now-full canteens on the table with a dull thunk, he proudly held up a blocky six by eight-inch piece of wood.  "I found it in the barn.  Don't know what it was doing in there, but it's perfect!"

"What on earth are you babbling about?" Adam demanded sharply.  "Perfect for what?"

"Santa's Helpers," he said in surprise.  "You guys didn't already find something better, did you?"

Exchanging a questioning look, each wondering how Joe could have known what they had been discussing, Hoss and Adam began to smile.  "I'll get started on that coffee while you two figure out what we want to make this year," Hoss offered, spirits suddenly taking a glad turn again.  "Make it something good.  We ain't got much time."

"He's right," Adam agreed, taking the small block from Joe's outstretched hand and eyeing it, already picturing in his mind what kinds of things could be crafted from it.  "We're getting out of here in a few hours."

"We are?" Joe asked in surprise. 

"Didn't you pay any attention while you were out there?" Adam asked, punching him playfully in the arm, his mood also much improved.  "The storm shifted during the night.  The worst of it must've passed us by, cause I don't see anything out there that our horses can't handle.  We're going home for Christmas, brothers!"

Adam's announcement was met with a moment of shocked silence, then a yodel and holler of such ear-splitting volume that he playfully staggered back a few paces, pretending to be knocked off-balance by the force of his brothers' enthusiasm.  He was quickly sent lurching forward again by a bone-jarring slap on the back from Hoss.

"Aw, right!" the big man shouted. "Let's get breakfast out of the way then we can get started.  Is this a beautiful Christmas Eve morning, or what?"

Grinning at each other over their brother's renewed cheer, and the fact that even the special ornament and the prospect of Christmas day at home had not distracted him from the need to fill his stomach, Adam and Joe moved at once to break out the coffeepot and canned peaches. 

A short time later, they sat in a circle next to the stove, studying the block of wood intently. 

"How 'bout a little Christmas tree?  Have we done that already?" Hoss asked hopefully.

"Five years ago.  We trimmed out a pine cone and covered it in green wagon paint," Joe said, shaking his head.

Hoss set his jaw back on his fist and sighed.  "Oh, yeah. Hop Sing yelled at me for gettin' paint on his new carpet."

"Maybe a snowman?" Joe suggested doubtfully.

"Flour paste dough.  You were about seven, I think.  We each made one of the layers and you put so much paste in the head that it came out top-heavy and kept falling over," Adam reminded him.  Seeing Joe's crestfallen expression, he smiled and added, "Pa loved it.  Kept saying it must be the proudest snowman in the world cause it had such a big head."

Little Joe laughed.  "That's right, he did!  I didn't get the joke, but I was glad he didn't think it was as stupid-looking as you guys did."

Adam chuckled. "Well, you have to admit, it's one of our more unique creations."

"That's for sure!  I don’t even know why he kept that one.  It's kind of embarrassing to look at now," Joe complained.

"He's got all of them," Hoss said.  "Every single one, right from the first."

Joe grunted.  "Guess it's a father thing.  You think we'll all squirrel away funny stuff like that when we have kids?"

Smiling at the slightly disgusted tone the young man had, Adam told him, "I imagine we will.  There's a lot of sentimental value in those ornaments.  I'll bet every time Pa looks at them he remembers those years, and those little boys who put so much time and effort into making them.  Even now that we're all grown, I know he understands how we feel about him whenever he looks at them."

Hoss agreed.  "It goes both ways, too.  Whenever I see that little ol' nest with the bird in it, I always remember how proud I felt when Pa first saw it, and how I could feel the love between us when he sat me on his knee and asked me to show him all the details."

"I didn't know you remembered that," Adam said in surprise.  "You couldn't have been more than five."

"It's a real special memory," Hoss explained shyly.

"I know it is, buddy."

Joe looked back and forth between them, waiting for someone to elaborate.  When neither did, he finally asked.  "What's so special about it?  I mean, was it the first one or something?"

Adam picked up the block of wood and turned it slowly in his hands, his expression vacant and slightly wistful.  It was obvious that for a few seconds, he was not in the small chilly room in an empty nameless town with his two brothers, but somewhere else; somewhere long ago and far away.  Finally, he looked at his youngest brother again.  "No, it wasn't the first."

"It was my first, I think," Hoss volunteered, seeing Joe's jaw set in irritation when it became clear that Adam did not intend to expand on his quiet statement.  "Leastways, it's the first I remember."

"What was my first?  The farthest back I can remember is that snowman."

Hoss' nose wrinkled in concentration, eyes squinting as though trying to see through the clouds of nearly twenty Christmases past.  "Was it the angels, Adam?  Was that Joe's first time helpin'?"

"No, that was the year after.  His first was the tin star we cut out of scraps left over from that traveling tin-smith who came through," Adam remembered.

Hoss nodded.  "That's right.  I forgot all about him.  Nice ol' fella.  He used to carry peppermint sticks in his wagon for any family he came across that had kids.  He was real nice about giving us those scraps to mess with, too."

"As a matter of fact," Adam added.  "The nest wasn't your first either, Hoss."

By this time, Little Joe was getting impatient with all the hints and wanted the whole story.  "Stop beating around the bush, will you?  What was the very first, and why did it become a tradition in the first place?"

"How about we make a Santa Claus out of this," Adam suggested, dodging the question.  "In all the years we've been making Santa ornaments, I don't think we've ever actually done one of him."

Grabbing the block of wood, Joe tossed it over to Hoss along with his pocketknife. "Fine. Good idea.  Hoss, why don't you start whittling while Adam tells us the story?"

Adam frowned but Hoss laughed.  "Go ahead and tell it.  I don't quite remember how this got started either, though I do know it had something to do with my ma.  Ain't that right?"

"Oh, all right," Adam gave in grumpily, seeing himself outnumbered two to one.  Settling back more comfortably between the wall and stove, Adam's expression became a little melancholy as he began to speak, as it always did on the rare occasions when he shared memories of Inger Cartwright.  "The winter after Pa and Inger were married, the three of us spent a while holed up in a little town not much livelier than this one.  Pa had wanted to get as far west as we could before true winter set in, but Inger was pregnant and that town was about as far out as Pa was willing to risk.  Christmas was coming, and even though I saw Inger knitting things and Pa doing a lot of extra whittling and such, I never made the connection.  At the time, I didn't realize that anyone but Santa Claus brought my gifts, because no matter how poor Pa and I had been, there was always something waiting for me on Christmas morning, whether it was store-bought mittens or little carved wooden animals."

Hoss and Joe grinned at each other over the thought of Adam ever having been small and innocent enough to believe in Santa Claus, but neither one dared voice their amusement, knowing the story would stop abruptly if their brother felt he was being laughed at.

"Pa was always drilling into me that I should be appreciative of nice things that were done for me, and that I should always say thanks for anything I was given, so I asked Inger if she could help me make a present for Santa," Adam continued.  "She showed me how to cut snowflakes out of folded white paper and paste colored yarn on the ends so they could be tied to the wagon where Santa would be sure to find them."

"Pa still has those," Joe interrupted, too surprised to keep quiet as he recalled the fragile, yellowed paper snowflakes that his father always hung with such extra-special care high on the top branches of their Christmas tree.  They were always placed well away from the candles where they would not be disturbed or ruined by an accidental touch.

Adam nodded.  "We didn't have a tree to put them on back then, of course.  Even if we'd had a house to put it in, nobody had heard or thought of such a thing in those days, but I gave Pa those snowflakes on Christmas Eve, to give to Santa for me.  I still remember him acting as impressed by them as if they'd been made of diamond and hung by gold threads.  He put them out for me and sure enough, they were gone the next morning, replaced by a little pile of presents for me.  I didn't know he'd kept them until years later."

"That was the only Christmas Adam and my ma ever spent together," Hoss supplied for his younger brother when Adam again fell silent.  "For a couple years after she died, I guess Pa didn't have much enthusiasm for things like that."

"Was he like the way he was when Ma died?" Joe asked sympathetically.  "I don't remember a whole lot about that time, but I sure do remember how bad I felt when I couldn't get Pa to pay attention to me any more."

"He took her death hard," Adam agreed softly.  "We both did, but Pa had a baby and a six-year-old child to look after, and I think it helped him to stay busy.  I'll never forget how empty Christmas seemed that year, though.  I had already begun to suspect that Santa Claus wasn't real, but I didn't want to believe it.  I tried to make another thank-you gift for him, but without Inger I couldn't do it right.  I remember Pa coming inside our cabin one evening to find me crying.  When I told him what the trouble was, he said I didn't have to do anything, that the thought was enough.  I can't even properly describe it, Joe, but I knew at that moment that there was no Santa Claus, and that without Inger there was no Christmas."

Ducking his head a bit, Joe surreptitiously dashed away a hint of moisture from his lashes.  Looking at Adam's face, he thought that he knew just how their father must have looked at that sorrowful long-ago moment.  "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories when I asked you, Adam," he apologized gently.  "You don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to."

Looking up, Adam caught the flash of guilt in his brother's eyes and smiled, shaking his head to dispel the somber mood he had fallen into.  "No, it's right that you should know.  Things did get better as time went by.  The first couple of years after we lost Inger, Pa spent most of his time working, especially after we founded our homestead and started building the Ponderosa.  He always found a little time to spend with us, though, even if it was only saying 'good morning' over a quick breakfast, or telling us a bedtime story at night.  He still thought about Inger an awful lot, I know, but having Hoss around helped. He was such a cute, happy little fella that it was hard not be cheerful around him."

"Aw, shucks," Hoss mumbled, reddening a bit as Joe reached over to pinch one of his brother's still-chubby cheeks.  Hoss slapped the hand away with a scowl.  "Dadburnit, now, cut that out!  Just get on with the story, big brother, afore I pound this one into the ground."

Joe laughed, but subsided quickly to show his agreement that Adam should go on. 

"One year; I think you were about four, Hoss; I started telling you the story about Inger and the snowflakes.  That's when I found out that Pa still had them.  He got them out of his trunk and hung them up on the wall for us to see."

"I'll bet you were surprised," Joe suggested with a grin.

"Shocked is more like it.  Not sure why, really.  I knew by then that Pa had actually been the one playing Santa all those years, but somehow it had never occurred to me that he had been the one to take those snowflakes." Adam shrugged, smiling at the mixed up logic of childhood.  "I do know how proud I felt when I saw him string them up over the fireplace, and saw how carefully they had been preserved."

"Pa don't do that with just everything," Hoss reminded them.  "He's got lots of little doodads from when we was young, but he ain't a packrat.  It's only the really special stuff he keeps."

Clearing his throat to dispel the traitorous lump forming there, Adam hastily continued with his story.  "Naturally, the minute Hoss heard about what his ma and I had done, he wanted to make something for Santa too.  So, I managed to find some brown packing paper and showed him how to draw and cut out…"

"Wait!  Don't tell me," Joe interrupted, sitting up straight and putting up a hand.  Already beginning to laugh in anticipation, he guessed, "It was the gingerbread men, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Adam agreed with a big grin.

Joe chortled, rocking in place and slapping his thighs in triumph.  "I knew it!  Hoss' first Christmas ornament and it looked like something to eat!"

Even Hoss had to laugh at the appropriateness of it.  "Guess I always did have a notion of what was important in life."

"At least you didn't eat the paper," Joe laughed, ducking as Hoss leveled a mock swing at his head.  "So, did Pa approve?"

"He sure did.  Went through the whole rigmarole of hanging those gingerbread men out for Santa to find and exchange the gifts for, just as he'd done for me."  Adam shook his head fondly.  "That was a great Christmas, and the next years' was even better, though I didn't think so at the time.  That was the year after Pa married your mother."

"Uh, oh," Joe anticipated. "You've told me about how you didn't want to share Pa and Hoss with her.  I'll bet you weren't too thrilled to have to share Christmas either."

"No, I wasn't," he admitted.  "I still hadn't got used to the idea of having a stepmother again, and I certainly didn't want her taking over the one time of year when Pa took a little extra time off to spend with us.  Hoss, though, had other ideas.  He couldn't wait to tell her about the Santa ornaments and how his mother had helped me make the first one, or to ask Marie to help us make another.  I was set to walk out on the project right then and there and just leave them to it." 

"Yeah, but Marie outfoxed him," Hoss cut in, eyes dancing.  "She chose that moment to tell us that we had a little surprise coming to us early in the summer."

It took a moment, but then Joe caught on.  "You mean me?"

"Yup.  She said that my ma had established a tradition.  She taught Adam to make them things, so that he could teach them to me, and now it'd be up to me to teach my new baby brother or sister, and so on.  Said Santa Claus would like it better that way, and even though I really wanted her help, I just couldn't see disappointing him."  Hoss shook his head in admiration.  "She sure was a smart one."

"That she was," Adam agreed. 

"I found that nest on the ground one day when Adam and me was out playing," Hoss went on.  "It was all broken-up and empty, but Adam right away saw the potential in making Pa's ornament out of it.  He forgot all about not wanting to help me, and since Marie had already decided to stay out of it, he didn't have no reason not to."

"Well, it wasn't quite that simple," Adam confessed.  "I knew we could fix it up into something special, but my main thought was of making it better than anything she could have possibly come up with."

Surprising both his brothers, Joe laughed at the confession.  "And here everyone says I'm the one with the bad temper!  Boy, Adam, you really know how to carry a grudge, don't you?"

Grateful for the lack of animosity, Adam laughed.  "Guess so.  A few sticks, strings and mud patches fixed the nest as good as new, and the addition of a few berries and some yarn I swiped from Marie's basket had it looking really special.  A few feathers from the wild ducks and geese Pa shot helped us make a bird to fit inside it."  He shook his head, his rueful expression directed at the boy he had once been.  "Pa was so pleased when we gave it to him.  I saw him hugging Hoss and admiring that silly nest, then saw him looking up at those crummy old paper snowflakes on the wall with tears in his eyes.  He felt as much pride over them that day as he had when they were new.  I could see it."

"Now that sounds like Pa," Joe said in satisfaction.

Adam nodded.  "I think it occurred to me for the first time that day that maybe Marie hadn't taken away any of the love that I thought belonged to just Hoss and me, but that maybe she had helped Pa find the ability to show it again.  You know, he wasn't nearly as open with his affections back then as he was when you were growing up."

"I know," Joe replied, looking a little sad as he tried to imagine Pa as anything less than open and loving with his children.  "He's told me that himself.  He still feels bad about it, I think."

"Could be," Adam agreed.  "All I know for sure is how ashamed of myself I was for what I'd been thinking."

"Could Ma see it?" Joe asked curiously.  "Did she understand?"

"I think so," he replied.  "She touched me, just a real light brush like she was dusting something off my shoulder, but it made me turn to look at her and I saw it in her eyes.  All she said was 'thank you', but I remember feeling like I'd suddenly had a boulder lifted off my shoulders."

Hoss held up the wood block, which now had been pared down so that it had the definite beginnings of human shape about it and handed it and the knife to Adam to take his turn.  "Your ma loved those ornaments every bit as much as Pa did, and we never let another Christmas go by that we didn't make one. By the time we lost her, you were old enough to be helpin' and wanting to make sure that Santa got his present.  Pa didn't let you down either.  We made those salt dough angels with the lopsided wings, and he made just as big a fuss over them as ever."

"Yeah," Joe agreed affectionately.  "I looked forward to doing this project every year.  Even after I got too old for Santa Claus I loved making these just for the look on Pa's face."

"Speaking of which," Adam said briskly.  "We'd better get a move on and get this ornament finished.  If we're not on the road in an hour or two, the only look Pa's gonna have on his face this Christmas is worry."

Joe grinned and gestured at the figure Adam had still not touched with the knife.  "Get to carving then, brother.  We can't let Santa be late for his appointment."


~*~*~*~*~

"Beautiful." Hoss' assessment of the miniature wooden Santa Claus he held in the palm of his hand was met with pleased smiles from both of his brothers. "Best we've ever done. Joe, you did a great job with the face and beard. He almost looks alive."

The words puffed Joe up like a peacock, but he was quick to share the praise. "I couldn't have done it if you guys hadn't put such detail into the body and everything. The folds Adam put in his robe and the fur trimming on the sleeves almost look soft enough to be real. And look at that sack of presents! You make me wish I was small enough to root around inside and see what else it in there, Hoss."

"Bet you'd find a few goodies in there with your name on them, too," Adam told him with a grin. He pointed to a tiny little bear Hoss had carved to look like he was poking his head out of Santa's bag for a peek at his surroundings. "Doesn't this look familiar?"

Taking a closer look, Joe laughed. "Hey, you're right! It looks just like that toy bear I had as a kid. It's even got a little tie around its neck."

Grinning, Hoss swung a beefy arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Thought you might like that, and I know Pa will recognize it. He must've tucked that thing up into bed with you about a thousand times when you were growing up."

"It's a nice touch," Adam observed, then turned a twinkling eye upon Joe. "And is it my imagination or does Santa's face look an awful lot like somebody we know?"

A trace of color appeared in Joe's cheeks and he shrugged a bit sheepishly. "Well, all those stories about Pa playing Santa when we were kids. I just thought it'd be a good idea is all."

"It is a good idea, Joe," Hoss reassured him. "Don't let him get your goat, cause if I'm seeing things right then ol' Saint Nick has got himself a pipe in his free hand that looks just like the one Pa always smokes in the evenings."

"Coincidence," Adam protested. "I was just following the poem. You know, 'The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath'."

Hoss and Joe looked at each other, both noting that it was Adam who now looked a trifle uncomfortable. "Uh, huh. Sure you were," Hoss agreed, laughing. "Let's pack him away someplace safe and get a move on, huh? Time's a wasting!"


~*~*~*~*~

"I don't like the look of those clouds," Ben muttered, craning his neck to better view the formations outside his study window. "There's a bad storm coming."

"Mr. Cartwright, you say something?"

Shaking himself from his worried reverie, Ben smiled at the weathered face and questioning expression of the ranch hand who stood by his desk, the last of the men waiting to receive his Christmas bonus. Handing over a well-laden envelope, he said, "Sorry, Dave. I was just saying that it looks like it's getting ready to start storming again pretty soon. You men had best hurry if you want to beat it to Virginia City."

"Right. Thanks for the bonus, boss!" Dave tucked the envelope in his pocket and turned to go, then stopped and looked back. "Don't you worry none, Mr. Cartwright. Your boys will be home any minute. Even if Adam and Joe are thinking of staying out and enjoying the weather a while, you know Hoss won't let them miss Hop Sing's Christmas Eve dinner."

A bit chagrined that he could have been read so easily, Ben returned the hand's easy smile with one of his own. "I'm sure you're right. You have a Merry Christmas, Dave."

"Same to you!" the man called as he hurried out the door to join the rest of the men trying to reach the various celebrations awaiting them in town.

Ben sighed as he listened to the muffled sounds of the horses and men departing the front yard. How he wished for the sound of three particular horses and men approaching! He had half-expected his sons to make it back from their trip to Sacramento by breakfast-time, but hours had passed since then. Lunch had come and gone and he could already smell the delicious scents of Hop Sing's traditional Christmas Eve duck dinner roasting in the kitchen. Smiling suddenly as he realized that he was clocking the progress of time by the number of meals his three healthy-appetited sons were missing, Ben picked up his pen. "Might as well make sure the books are caught up," he muttered. "If I don't do something to distract myself from waiting for the boys, I'm going to start talking to myself!"


~*~*~*~*~

"Are you sure this was a good idea?"  Little Joe blew out a long puff of frosted breath as he sank down onto one knee in the deep snow.  The reins he had been holding dropped from his slack grip and his horse shied a bit in response to the sudden freedom, though he showed no inclination to leave Joe's side.  "I'm starting to think we should have stayed where we were.  At least it was warmer there!"

"Quit your moaning," Adam ordered shortly, draping one arm tiredly over the saddle of his own mount as he too gave up trying to lead the animal through the deep drifts for a while.  "At least we're making progress."

"I'm not moaning, I'm just saying," Joe retorted grumpily. 

Adam rolled his eyes.  "Call it whatever you like, just do it quietly, will you?  I'm tired of listening to you."

"Well, it's mutual," Joe snapped.  "You insisted on being in the lead, but I don't think you even know where we're going.  That's why you keep giving Hoss and me those clever observations like, 'Hey, there's a patch of pine trees over there.  We must be getting closer.'  If that's progress, I'll take the ghost-town!"

"I thought you were in a hurry to get home in time for Christmas," Adam reminded him, jaws tensing at his brother's rather unflattering imitation of his leadership skills. 

Removing his hat, Joe wiped perspiration off his brow.  Picking up a small handful of loose snow he pitched it half-heartedly in his brother's direction. "I am.  In fact, I wish I were already at home.  I just wasn't figuring on walking in circles all day instead of going there."

"We ain't going in circles, Joe," Hoss told him, coming up even with his brothers and joining the conversation.  "We retraced our steps back to the main road again, didn't we?"

"Sure," Joe agreed.  His eyes narrowed as he shot a scowl up at Adam.  "After you did a little arguing with our fearless leader."

Hoss planted a firm hand on Adam's chest when he began to advance on Joe, effectively holding him in place.  Glancing upward as though praying for strength, he patiently continued, "And I'm tellin' you both that it ain't more than a couple more miles to the main turnoff toward home. Once we hit Ponderosa land, it's just a little ways up to the south slope.  The snow should be packed solid enough out that way so that we can ride again."

"But I'm cold!"  This time there was no denying the whine in Joe's tone.  "And that's going to take hours!"

"Well, what do you expect us to do about it?" Adam yelled, his patience reaching its end.  "Is it my fault the drifts are a lot deeper here than when we started, or that the ground is too uneven to ride without risking a broken leg on one of the horses?  We're just as cold as you are, Joe."

"And hungry too," Hoss added helpfully.

"And hungry," the older man agreed with a sigh, "That's not going to change until we reach home, and for now the only way to get there is to walk, so you might as well get on your feet and start moving!"

Struggling back up, Joe tensed, his hands clenching.  "I wasn't expecting you to do anything, Adam.  I wasn't even expecting you to answer me!  I'm just tired of slogging around in snow that's halfway up to my ass, and I'm tired of not knowing where I'm going, and I'm tired of not being able to feel my hands and feet, okay?" 

"Well, if you didn't expect me to answer, then why did you start talking to me?" Adam demanded.

"I don't know," Joe hollered, flapping his hands out to either side in frustration.  "You were there!"

That statement, completely emotion-driven and lacking in logic, was so very Joe-like that Adam burst out laughing. For a moment, Joe's eyes sparked and snapped in resentment that his brother should find his words so amusing, then his irritated expression faded into a sheepish smile, and he held out a hand, which Adam willingly shook.   

Hoss chuckled. "If you're really that bad off, little brother, maybe you should get up on ol' Chubb for a while. He's used to toting me around, so I reckon he'd hardly notice you.  I can lead both our horses for a ways."

"Or maybe you'd rather have a piggy-back ride, like when you were small and you'd get too tired to keep up with us," Adam suggested slyly.

Joe's face flushed scarlet.  "Guess I was acting kind of childish," he muttered.  "Sorry, fellas."

"Aw, shucks, that's okay." Hoss tapped his little brother on the chest, grinning broadly.  "I wouldn't hardly know what to make of it if we ever took a trip anywhere and you didn't find nothin' to complain about."

"Ha ha," he replied sarcastically.  "Look who's talking?  I don't think you stopped moaning the whole way back from Sacramento."

Adam groaned.  "Oh, please, let's not start that again.  Can't we just get moving?  I'd like to make it home before New Year's if you two don't mind."

"Sure, Adam," Hoss agreed amiably.  With a wink at Joe he added, "Course it sure would make the journey easier if we had something to warm up our insides a trifle."

"Yeah," Joe chimed in.  "I didn't get more than a taste of that brandy last night, and it sure would go a long way toward melting the ice from our insides."

"I thought that was supposed to be my Christmas gift," Adam reminded them. "Why should I share it with you?"

"Because it's better to give than receive," Joe answered promptly. "Especially at Christmas."

Adam pretended to mull it over, but succumbed with a laugh when he saw the two pathetic faces his wheedling siblings conjured up to soften his heart.  Rummaging in his saddlebag, he produced the brandy and took a drink before passing it to the others to do the same.


~*~*~*~*~


"Hey, look!"  Joe pointed excitedly toward a wooden pole with a hand-carved sign on it reading: 'Ponderosa'.  "We made it!"

Hoss whooped and shouted, "Didn't I tell you we were comin' up on our southern border?  Soon as the ground became solid enough to support the horses again, I knew we were gettin' close.  Another hour and we'll be sittin' down to supper in our own home and wishing Pa a merry Christmas."

Adam grinned and tipped his hat brim in his brother's direction.  Hoss had taken over completely as navigator once darkness had fallen, and his acute natural sense of direction had come through as usual.  No one had even considered the idea of finding a place to camp for the night, even when the snow had begun falling again and the darkness of night deepened.  The urge to reach home had seemed to grow stronger along with the storm blowing around them. "Knew you could do it!" he shouted back.  "It's a little late for supper, though.  Think Hop Sing left us anything?"

Tipping his head back and closing his eyes, Hoss inhaled deeply.  "There's roast duck and all the fixin's waiting for us right now.  We better hurry, though, before he changes his mind and throws it out!"

Adam and Joe both laughed.  Neither one had ever believed Hoss when he claimed he could smell Hop Sing's cooking from miles away, but for once it almost seemed as if they could smell it too.  Digging their heels in, they urged the tired horses to pick up the pace, playfully racing their large brother toward the prize.


~*~*~*~*~

The main room was dark but for the warm glow of flames dancing in the huge stone fireplace, the dim light barely sufficient to illuminate the figure sitting slumped in the large red chair next to the hearth.  Ben Cartwright sighed deeply, shifting slightly in his chair to relieve a kink in his back gained from long hours spent in the same position.  Christmas Eve had come and gone but for a few final minutes, and his sons had not made it home. 

The snow had started coming down again just as Ben had given in to his housekeeper's repeated orders and sat down to his lonely supper.  He had not made much of an inroad in the meal Hop Sing had worked so hard to prepare, but for once the cook had not complained.  He, too, was concerned over the lateness of the boys and had not bothered to hide it, repeatedly peering out the windows to note the progress of the storm.  Despite his worry, Hop Sing had staunchly assured his employer that Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe would make it home that night, and had carefully stored all of the food in warming pans on the stove, to keep until they did.  They would need a good hot meal when they arrived, he insisted.

Ben had taken up his vigil shortly after supper, having first gone to the barn to do the evening chores.  Settling into his chair, he had pulled out a favorite book, but found it unsatisfying.  As first minutes, then hours, had ticked slowly by, Ben had resigned himself to the fact that his sons had probably been forced to make camp by the still heavily falling snow.  Hop Sing had finally gone to bed, declaring very uncharacteristically that he would wait until morning to dispose of the remains of supper.

Telling himself a dozen times that he should follow the cook's example and go to bed, Ben had remained where he was.  As he had sat there in the semi-darkness, the Christmas tree had caught his eye, and he had found himself studying the ornaments on it.  They seemed strangely illuminated, undoubtedly some odd trick of the light, and he could see each one clearly.  How impossible it seemed that he could have almost forgotten to put those lovingly made decorations up!  Ben's eyes traveled slowly over the boughs, stopping to admire each ornament as he came to it.  There was the fragile string of yellowed snowflakes near the top that Adam had made so long ago, Hoss' birds' nest, the snowman with the oversized head that Little Joe had been so ashamed to show him because his brothers had made fun of it.  Further down the tree, Ben could see a little angel with uneven wings, a tiny wooden reindeer that Hoss had painstakingly carved with his first pocket-knife, a simple tin star, a snow-covered replica of the Ponderosa ranch house designed with the unmistakable detail and skill of an adult Adam.  Near the middle was one of Ben's very favorites, a beautiful miniature nativity scene.  The animals that Hoss had made were so realistic that one could almost hear their bleats and whinnies, the kneeling humans again showed Adam's lifelike touch, and the loving faces of the three kings, the shepherds, and the holy family were etched into place with the rarely displayed artistic accuracy that belonged only to Joseph.  There were so many, the product of nearly thirty Christmases, and the memories invoked by each kept Ben company throughout the long night.

The clock by the door struck midnight, startling Ben.  It was Christmas day.  Slowly, he rose from his chair, finally ready to call it a night and get a few hours sleep.  Just as his foot hit the first step, however, he paused.  Brow wrinkling, he strained his ears to listen for the sound he had thought he heard.  Singing; yes, he definitely could hear singing!  Abandoning all thought of going up to bed, Ben hurried to open the front door, the music growing clearer with every step.  Throwing open the door, a joyful smile spread across his face.  Three bedraggled, snow-covered figures stood on the front porch singing 'Silent Night' as loudly as they could. 

As the last note died away, Ben's sons grinned at him.  "We knew you'd still be up," Adam told him as he led his brothers inside.  "Merry Christmas, Pa."

"Howdy, Pa," Hoss said, grinning brightly as he set his hat on the side table and began removing his coat. "Betcha didn't think we'd make it, did you?  Merry Christmas."

"I'd about given up," Ben admitted, smiling as he helped the big man out of his ice-stiffened coat and muffler.  "I was just heading up to bed when I heard you three caroling on the front step."

"That was my idea," Joe told him brightly.  Unlike his brothers, who had removed their outer trappings before giving their father a handshake or slap on the back, Joe stepped forward and threw his arms around the older man in a hearty hug, snow and all.  "Good to see you, Pa.  Merry Christmas!"

Laughing heartily, Ben returned the cold embrace.  "Merry Christmas to the three of you as well.  And it is, by the way.  The clock just struck midnight."

"We were trying to make it before that," Joe apologized.  "We wanted to get home in time for you to read the story from the bible, like you do every year on Christmas Eve, but there was so much snow that it was slow going all the way.  Then of course, we had to take care of the horses, and."

"Don't apologize," Ben cut the explanation off with a wave of his hand.  "I'm just glad you're home.  We can read the story on Christmas Day this year instead, how would that be?"

"Just fine, Pa," Adam told him with a smile.  He draped an arm around his father's shoulders and looked over at Hoss.  "We do have something to give you that can't wait, though."

Hoss nodded and picked up his coat again, rummaging in the pocket.  "Yes sir, we run into ol' Santa out on the road and offered to give him this, but he said it would look better on our tree."  Blue eyes sparkling as he expanded on the traditional joke, Hoss held out the wooden figurine to his father.  "Hope you like it, sir. We had to make it in kind of a hurry this time."

Touched that they had remembered, even with everything else they'd had to occupy their minds, Ben accepted the gift.  "Help me light the lamps, so I can get a good look at this."

All three young men leapt to obey and within seconds the room was bright as day.  Ben moved to his desk and perched on the edge to examine his small Santa Claus, turning it slowly so that he might take in every detail.  "This is magnificent," he declared. "Look at the detail."  Tracing a fingertip over the bear peeking out of Santa's pack, he winked at Hoss then smiled at Little Joe.  Brushing the fur-lined robe lightly, he raised a brow at Adam, who nodded back, then grinned when his father picked his pipe up from the corner of the desk and compared it to the one in Santa's hand. 

"Told you so," Hoss muttered, nudging his younger brother, who stifled a laugh behind his gloved hand.

Ben peered closely into Santa's face, frowned slightly as he observed the heavy eyebrows, broad forehead and wide, slightly flattened nose.  He looked over at his youngest son, whose expression was somewhere between amusement and trepidation.  "So, you found me out at last, did you?"

Caught off-guard by the deadpan comment, and the fact that his father had so easily recognized himself in the tiny carving, Joe burst out laughing.

"Let's find this a special place," Ben said, moving to the Christmas tree and studying the branches critically.  Finding an empty spot large enough to accommodate the newest addition, he nodded in satisfaction.  "Perfect.  Now we just need to find something to hang it by.

"Here you go, Mr. Cartwright." Hop Sing appeared from the kitchen suddenly, startling everyone.  In his hand was a short length of strong white thread.  Taking the ornament from Ben's hand he quickly tied it securely around the small figure, then tied it to the branch his employer had chosen.  "Very pretty," he approved.

"Merry Christmas, Hop Sing," the boys chorused. 

He bowed and smiled in response, then immediately began to scold.  "Boys all cold and wet.  Little Joe take off jacket.  Family sit by fireplace, get warm while Hop Sing put food on table."

Hoss positively beamed with joy at his friend's final words.  "Hot diggity, Hop Sing.  You meant to say there's still something left from supper?"

Acting highly affronted that anyone should have even entertained the idea that he would let them go hungry, Hop Sing let off a long vociferous string of Chinese that echoed back to the Cartwrights long after he had reached the kitchen.  Ben grinned at Hoss' chagrined face and told them.  "He put everything away in the warming oven for you.  I don't know how, but he was sure you'd find your way home tonight."

"We almost didn't," Joe told him, gleefully recounting the tale of finding shelter in the ghost town and the adventure they'd had getting home through the snowstorm, with plenty of asides and contradictions from his brothers.  Now that they were safe and comfortable, and getting warm again, it all seemed very amusing to him.  Jumping up, he walked over to the sideboard and retrieved the book on New Orleans from his saddlebag.  "Look what Adam gave me, Pa.  Isn't it something?"

"Very nice," Ben agreed.  "Very generous of your brother to give you an early Christmas present, too, I must say."

"Well, actually, Pa, Joe gave us early Christmas presents first," Hoss told him, wanting to be fair and give praise where it was due.  "He gave me a purty little box of miniature cakes and Adam got a bottle of brandy.  We had some of it on the way home."

Adam had followed Joe to the saddlebags and pulled out his gift bottle.  He handed it to his father to inspect; wanting to show what a fine and generous choice his brother had made for his gift.

Ben's brows twitched a bit as he noted how far down the level of liquid in the bottle was, but he said nothing.  It was clear that his sons were not inebriated, so he squelched the urge to sound off on the dangers of drinking while wandering through the dark of night in a storm.  Now was not the time for a lecture.  They had made it home safely and that was all he cared about.

"Come now, eat," Hop Sing ordered. 

There was a virtual stampede as the three hungry travelers stumbled over each other in their haste to reach the dining room table.  "Wow, Hop Sing, this is some spread!" Joe told him, staring in awe at the roast duck, hot rice, boiled potatoes, gravy, soft rolls and other assorted goodies the cook had placed on the table. 

"You're the best," Hoss told him happily, already shoveling mounds of food onto his plate. 

Reaching out to stop his large brother from digging in, Adam returned his indignant look with a patient one of his own. 

Ben took his usual place at the head of the table and folded his hands in front of him.  His sons all bowed their heads as he began to speak.  "Lord, we thank you for the bounty of our table and the company of our loved ones.  Thank you for allowing us to be together, safe and healthy on this blessed Christmas Day.  Amen."

"Amen," the rest echoed quietly. 

The family ate heartily for the next half-hour, even Ben finding that he had regained his appetite despite the strangeness of eating at that late hour.  He was filled in on the rest of the boys' trip, shaking his head over the description of their disagreements and laughing heartily over the snowball fight.  Finally, everyone was full and stood up from the table with groans of satisfaction.  By unspoken agreement, everyone helped Hop Sing clean up the remains of their midnight feast, then settled back down in the living room.  They talked for a while of Christmases past, and then Adam handed Ben the old family bible.  With a smile, he began to read aloud to his sons the story of the very first Christmas night, as he had done every year of their lives. 

Warm, fed, and happy, with the gentle sound of their father's deep voice washing over them, Adam, Hoss and Joe were all soon fighting to keep their eyes open and their yawns covered up.  As he finished reading, Ben closed the bible and smiled.  "Goodnight, sons."

Joe rose from the sofa and bent over to hug his father again, surprising him greatly by kissing his cheek as he had done as a small boy.  "I love you, Pa.  Merry Christmas."

Hoss smiled in approval and planted a quick kiss on top of his father's silver head.  "Me too, Pa.  Good night."

The urge to follow his brothers' example was strong, but Adam could not quite bring himself to do it.  Instead, he held out a hand and did not immediately release his father when he clasped it to shake.  "We had to make it home tonight, Pa," he said quietly.  "It just wouldn't be Christmas if we hadn't."

"I know what you mean, son," Ben told him quietly.  They smiled at each other, the words unspoken but clearly understood just the same.

Ben doused the last of the lights again as he watched his eldest disappear at the top of the stairs.  He took one last look at the newest inhabitant of the tree and smiled.  Santa had brought him exactly what he wanted for Christmas this year. 


The End



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