Summary: Written in honor of Dan Blocker’s birthday. The Hoffmeisters have come to the Ponderosa for their annual December visit bringing tales of Germany’s Wienachsten and its mystical creatures. As strange things begin to happen, young Hoss Cartwright becomes convinced that St. Nick’s man-servant, a feller he calls ‘K-necked Rupert’, has come to bring judgement on them all.

Rated: G (14,550 words)

All known and public characters belong to those who created them.  All new characters belong to the author.  There is no intent to infringe on copyright and no money is being made – just friends and warm hearts hopefully!

A Switch in His Shoe

December 1855

PROLOGUE

“Joe.  Whoa.  Whoa!  Whoa!”  With the north wind blowing and a steel-gray sky spitting sleet, Adam Cartwright caught hold of the reins of his twelve-year-old brother’s Welsh and Arab pony and tugged, bringing the animal to a halt.  “And just where do you think you’re going?” he asked a defiant Little Joe.  “You know we’re having guests over tonight.  Pa’s gonna want you spit-and-shine clean for parading in front of the Hoffmeisters.”

Little Joe scowled.  “Could I just break my neck and die instead?”

Adam hid his smile.  The Hoffmeisters were originally from Hanover.  They were a lovely older couple with no children of their own.  Charles Hoffmeister and their pa were long-time friends and the pair was  always invited out around December 5^th for a celebration of the traditional Germanic Weinachsten.  It sort of kicked off the Christmas season for them all.  Each of them had endured Mrs. Hoffmeister’s loving…ministrations in turn.  He and Hoss had been the focus of them for years.

Of course now that Joe was the only ‘little’ one in the house….

“So that’s it, then?  You’re running away from home because Mrs. Hoffmeister wants to pinch your cheek?”

The boy pulled a face.  “That ain’t it!  Hoss is missing.  I’m gonna find him.”

Adam was immediately concerned.  “Hoss is missing?  Does Pa know about this?”

Joe nodded his head so hard his brown curls bounced off his furrowed forehead.  “Sure does.  But, Adam, Pa don’t seem to care!  He says middle brother will find his own way back soon enough.”

So….their father wasn’t worried.  Okay.  That eased the sudden sinking in his stomach somewhat – at least enough to look forward again to filling it up with Hop Sing’s wondrous works of culinary delight.  There was nothing quite like the Chinese man’s take on a German menu filled with strudel, schnitzel, and spaetzle.

Still holding onto the reins, he asked, “So if Pa’s not worried, why are you?”

Joe looked at his shirt.  He muttered something.

“What?”

“Because Hoss said he’d play checkers with me before dinner.”

Adam’s black brows peaked toward his well-oiled hair.  “And?”

Baby brother’s head snapped up.  His lips were drawn into a line and those mobile brows dipped in a deep ‘V’.  “And?  Well, that’s it.  Ain’t it enough?!”

He blinked.  “That’s it.  Really?  You’re riding out of the yard, in the sleet, with barely more than a summer jacket on, hell-bent for leather, and all because Hoss missed a game of checkers?”

Little Joe’s ire was up.  His nostrils flared and he breathed baby dragon fire.  “You don’t understand! It ain’t like you said you’d play me and then didn’t show up.  This is Hoss!  He never breaks his promises. Something’s got to be wrong!”

Adam didn’t miss the implied insult.  “And I do?  Break my promises, that is?”

“Heck, Adam,” Joe said with the honesty of a child, “most of the time you hardly know I’m around – unless I get under your feet.”

He winced.  There was some truth in that.

Hoss on the other hand had a special bond with Little Joe.  It was amusing to watch the two of them together.  You’d have to multiply Joe by three at least to even come close to the dimensions of Hoss’s weight and giant frame.  At seventeen his teenage brother was big as most any man in the territory.  Adam allowed a smile to lift the corners of his scowl.  Hoss would turn eighteen in just a few days, on the 10^th of this month.  He was looking forward to taking him on his first ‘official’ visit to a saloon.

Official, that was.

Adam laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Joe snarled.

His hazel eyes went to his baby brother where he sat uneasy in the saddle.  Joe was still, but he was still moving.  His fingers twitched on the reins and his boots were keeping a staccato beat against poor Cadfan’s sides.  Everything that was in the boy was bent on finding their wayward – by that, read about an hour late – brother.

Giving up, Adam released the reins.  “It’s about three o’clock now.  You be sure you’re back by five-thirty.”  As Joe nodded, he added, “And then, by supper, it had better be the quickest and best polish job you’ve ever done – dress boots included!”

At first Joe continued to scowl.  Then he looked puzzled, as if stunned that he’d given in.  Finally, he grinned that grin that killed them all.

“Yes siree, Bob, older brother.  I’ll be back faster than a bee-stung stallion!”  With that, Joe slapped the reins, kneed his horse, and he and Cadfan were off with a whoop!

Adam ran a hand across his eyes.  Unfortunately, that was exactly how Joe liked to ride.  Just like a bee-stung stallion.

Sleet or no sleet.

He could only hope that one day Hoss’ steady, sure, predictable temperament would rub off on their little brother enough to give them some hope that Joe might actually make it to eighteen.  God had put Eric ‘Hoss’ Cartwright in the right place, at the right time – right between him and Little Joe.  The big guy was the glue that held the three of them together.

Turning and looking at the house, Adam sighed when he saw the door open and his father step out.  Pa wouldn’t be happy that he’d let Joe go.  He couldn’t put it into words himself why it felt right, but it just did.   Joe and Hoss were connected in a way neither one of them truly understood, and if Joe thought there was somethin wrong, well then, there very well might be.

Of course, sending a twelve year old out to deal with whatever it was begged the question of his sanity.

“Where are your brothers, Adam?” his father asked as he came to a halt beside him.

Might as well admit it.  “Joe went to find Hoss.  I told him to be back by five-thirty.”

His father gave him that look.  The ‘you’re-old-enough-to-make-your-own-choices-but-why-can’t-they-be-better-ones?’ look.

“I see.”  The older man said.

Pa always said that.  ‘I see’.

It meant he didn’t.

“Those boys had best be back by the time Lena and Charles arrive or they will rue it,” the older man said, obviously not pleased.  “The Hoffmeisters are among my dearest friends.  I expect you boys to respect that, as well as my wish to entertain them.”

“There’s no disrespect meant, Pa.”  Somehow, he didn’t think at this point that mentioning Little Joe’s aversion to pinched cheeks was wise – or worth it.  “Hoss is late for a checker game and Joe’s worried.  They should be back shortly.”

He got that other look.  The ‘I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it’ one.

“Very well.  Supper is at seven.  See that you are all there.”

As his father reentered the house, Adam turned and looked the way Joe had gone.  He was going to give him and Hoss an hour-and-a-half and then, if they weren’t back, he was going after them.

Trust was one thing.

Stupidity was another.

ONE

Hoss Cartwright was concentratin’.  He was concentratin’ hard.  The giant-size teenager was on his hands and knees on the sleet-strewn ground staring into a cozy rabbit burrow, arguing with a mama rabbit about taking back the baby bunny he’d found wanderin’ around in the cold.  The tiny little thing was nestled in his hand and he was showing’ it to her, tellin’ her she needed to take it back because it was too much of a young’un to be out on its own.

She was looking at him with those big black eyes of hers, her nose twitching.

Sad to say, she weren’t convinced.

“Listen here, little mama,” the seventeen-year-old said, speaking quiet like he was in church.  “I found this here sweet baby of yours wanderin’ out in the cold.  I ain’t sure why he strayed.”  Hoss chuckled.  “Maybe he’s like my little brother and he just don’t know any better.  Anyhow, this here boy needs his mama and I ain’t gonna take no for an answer.  You hear me?”

The mama bunny cocked its head.  One ear dipped.

He wondered if that was a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

Hoss looked at the furry creature cupped in his giant hand.  He could feel its little heart thumpin’ to beat the band.  It was pressed against his upturned fingers like it was afraid of him.  With one finger he touched its tiny brown head and stroked it, tryin’ to calm it, just like he did to Little Joe’s curly head when his baby brother woke up in the middle of the night with one of his nightmares.

“Come on now,” he whispered.  “Ain’t no reason to be afraid of me.  It’s just old Hoss.  I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to you.  I promise.”

The baby rabbit’s eyes were even bigger than his mama’s.  They blinked several times and then, to Hoss’s delight, the bunny’s tiny nose nuzzled his hand.

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” he breathed.

“What are you doing, young man?” a gruff voice asked from out of nowhere.

Hoss started and looked up.  He hadn’t heard a sound, but then again, with the wind blowin’ it was kind of hard to hear.  There was a real tall man wearing a dark-brown hooded cloak standing not three feet away from him.  He was holding a birch walking stick in one hand and carrying a loaded sack in the other.

The giant-sized teenager smiled since he didn’t see any reason not to.  “Howdy, Mister.  I didn’t hear you.”

“I move quietly,” the stranger answered.

“You sure do.”  Hoss’ attention returned to the itty-bitty rabbit in his hand.  “I found this here bunny out by the road.  Figured he’d wandered away from his mama since he was so young.”  He grinned.  “Took me a while, but I found her.  Now I just gotta convince her and him to make up.”

“You think she does not want him?”

“Oh, heck no,” Hoss replied. “I’m sure she does.  And I know he wants her.  But you know, young’uns ain’t always the smartest things.  Might be he thinks he’s big enough he can make it on his own.”

There was a sound, like a rumble of thunder.  Hoss thought it might have been the man laughin’.

“It sounds like you have experience.”

The teenager nodded.  “Well, I got me a baby brother.  Ain’t as young as this one, but he’s been plowin’ his own row since he was born.”  He fingered the bunny’s fine fur again, thinking of Little Joe’s curly brown hair.  “Older brother gets mighty mad at him. Me,” he paused, “well, I think he’s mighty funny.”

“Funny?”

“Just like this here little one, Little Joe thinks he knows it all, ‘cept he’s barely twelve.  Just turned that way at the end of October.  Trouble is, Joe’s mama – my mama died ‘bout seven years back.”  Hoss looked wistfully at the mama bunny who was still watching him warily.  “Joe don’t have no mama to go back to.  This little one does.”

The man limped as he moved closer.  Curiously, Hoss heard the tinkling of small bells as he did.  “Why is one small creature so important to you?” the stranger asked.

Hoss shrugged.  “Pa tells me my mama had a way with animals.  That she…  Well, she spoke to them.  Guess I got it too.”

“And you can’t stand to see them suffer?”

The gentle giant nodded.  “Yes, sir.  Not beast or man.”

“Do you pray for them?”

Hoss blinked.  That was kind of an odd question when you were talkin’ about a bunny. He thought a moment.

“Well, not outright, but I guess in a way, I do.”  Hoss touched the tiny creature in his hand again.  “God made them like He made me.  Cares about them too, just like he cares about me.  So, yeah, I ask Him to help if one’s got a need.”

The man nodded and then turned toward the road.

“Someone is coming.”

He hadn’t heard anything.  “You must have got ears on you like a bat, mister.”

The stranger chuckled.  “You might say that.”

Hoss glanced at the cloaked man before returning his attention to the baby bunny’s mama.  “Now, you listen to me, old gal.  You just take this young’un back.  He’s right sorry for runnin’ away.”  He looked again at the tiny creature in his hand.  “Ain’t you?”

If anyone had asked him, he would have denied it.  But he saw the bunny nod its head.

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” the teenager breathed as he placed the little creature back in the burrow and watched it snuggle up against its mother.  “Did you see that, Mister.  Mister?”

The stranger was gone.

Hoss rose to his feet and crossed to where the man had been standing.  Then he dropped to his knees.  Reaching out, the teenager searched the wet earth for signs of the stranger’s passing – a footprint, the mark of the tip of that there birch cane he carried.

There was nothing.

As he crouched there, staring at the undisturbed ground, Hoss heard a noise.  Looking up he saw a man on a horse headed his way.  Well, truth to tell, it weren’t no horse, and sure as shootin’ the one ridin’ on the pony’s back weren’t no man.  At least not yet.

It was Little Joe on Cadfan.

Baby brother reined the horse in lickety-split and, faster than you could say Jack Robinson, vaulted from its back.  Lookin’ just about as wild as the night, Joe rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

Hoss grinned as he stood.  “Well, sure I am.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

Little Joe’s look of concern shifted toward anger.  “You mean you ain’t twisted an ankle or got shot or nothin’?”

He shrugged.  “Not that I know of.”

Like that little bunny, baby brother had a mind and he made it up right quick – usually before he had the facts.  You never knew what you’d get with Joe, just that it would be an adventure.

“What are you doing out here then?” he demanded.

Hoss glanced at the burrow.  Mama and baby were snuggled up against each other and doin’ fine.  “Well, you see, I found this little feller -”

His brother looked around.  “What ‘little feller’?”

The teenager nodded to the spot on the ground where the rabbits were nestled.  “This here little rabbit had crawled away from his mama and I – ”

“Little rabbit?”  His brother’s voice was pitched high.  “You’re still out here because of a rabbit?”

“Sure am.  He was lost and – ”

Joe was scowling.  “Hoss.  We eat rabbits.  You only saved him for somebody’s supper.”

That was a puzzle or a ‘conundrum’ as Adam would say.  “Well, Little Joe, now, I couldn’t just let him freeze to death.”

Joe was lookin’ at the sky, squinting into the drizzle. “It’s you and me are gonna freeze to death, middle brother, if we don’t head home.”

The sleet was falling harder now.  In fact, it was stingin’ his exposed skin.  He looked at Little Joe.  The boy didn’t have the sense God had given him.  He weren’t wearin’ a winter coat.

Hoss nodded as he moved toward him.  “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right, you big ox!” Joe snapped.

“Now what you got such a ‘mad’ on for, Joe?” he asked as he headed for his horse.

Little Joe fell silent.  A few seconds later he said, “I was wrong.”

With his hand on the saddle horn, Hoss turned to look at his brother.  “Wrong about what?”

“Nothin’,” Joe said, looking at his boot as he scuffed it on the ground.

Hoss dropped the reins and walked over to tower above his little brother.  “Little Joe, now don’t you clam up on me. You tell me honest-like what’s botherin’ you.”

Baby brother sniffed.  He didn’t look up.  “I told Adam you never break your promises.”

Hoss frowned.  “What promise did I….”  Then he had it. “Little Joe, I’m sorry.  I promised to play checkers with you before supper, didn’t I?”

Joe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.  It’s just a stupid game.”

He put his hands on his brother’s shoulders.  “You look at me, you hear?”  Hoss waited until Little Joe did as he told him.  “Ain’t nothin’ more important than my promises to you.  You hear me?  I done got so wrapped up in that little feller’s survivin’ that I plumb forgot.  Can you forgive me?”

Little Joe sniffed again.  He was holdin’ back tears, right enough.  Dang it, if his little brother didn’t cry quicker than a woman changed her mind!

“Sure.  I’ll forgive you.”  The boy looked up, that ‘ornery’ comin’ back into his eyes.  With a nod he indicated the rabbit burrow.  “It’s that ‘little feller’ over there I’m gonna pop in the nose!”

Hoss snorted.  “You let me know when you find it.  His nose ain’t no bigger than a fly on the hind end of a mule.”  The teenager reached out and tweaked his brother’s nose  “Kind of like that little one you got there planted on your face.”

Joe knocked his hand away.  “Now, don’t you go insultin’ my nose,” the twelve-year-old said, his tone somewhere between joshin’ and fumin’.  “Pa’s says I got my mama’s nose.”

For a moment Hoss was transported back to another December 5th, when Joe’s mama was still alive.  She and Pa had come in late from a holiday party in town that they’d attended with the Hoffmeisters.  Marie looked pretty as a pudding pie in her crimson dress, with her golden hair piled up on top of her head, set with combs sparkling with jewels.  Pa liked to dress her up fancy and show how much he loved her, so there were even more jewels hangin’ around her neck and twinklin’ in her ears.  He’d been only nine and he’d thought Mama looked just like that tinsel-covered Christmas tree he’d seen in a fancy store window a year or two before when Pa took them to San Francisco for a holiday.

When Mama saw the three of them waitin’ up on her, a smile lit her face that put that tinsel to shame.

‘What is this, mes petits?’

He always laughed at that.  Mama calling him ‘petite’.

Adam had been reading a book to Little Joe in order to get him to go to sleep, only it weren’t workin’.  He’d spent most of his time fightin’ with baby brother over who got to turn the pages.  ‘Course first thing Joe did when he heard his mama’s voice was slip off of Adam’s lap and run straight for her.  As their father entered with the Hoffmeisters close behind him, Marie bent and lifted Little Joe into her arms.  She drew him close and whispered in his ear – loud enough for all of them to hear, of course.

‘Do you know what tonight is, mon chou?’

Little Joe’s golden curls near bounced off his head as he shook it.

“Tonight it the night Père Fouettard comes to visit.  Will he find, my little cabbage, that you have been the bon boy?”

That was Mama’s name for  a man known as Knecht Ruprecht by the Hoffmeisters.  Pa said he was kind of a man-servant for Saint Nicklaus. This K-necked feller traveled with old St. Nick and came to visit on December 5^th, rewarding good children with candy and nuts and leaving ashes or a switch in the shoes of bad ones.

Hoss shook his sandy head and let out a sigh.  Even though he was old enough at the time to know what Mama was talkin’ about was made-up, there was nothing like the fun he’d had watching Little Joe wake up on the 6^th.  Baby brother would go flyin’ down the stairs to the front door and shriek with delight when he found  his dress boots filled with candy.

Hoss snorted.

‘Course Marie always thought Little Joe was a good boy.

Looking at his brother now, steam near blowin’ out of his ears, Hoss knew for sure this year Little Joe was gonna get ashes.

“You got somethin’ else to say about my nose?” Joe demanded.

The teenager thought a moment.  He held back the grin.  “Yeah.  It’s just about as cute as Mama’s…and so are you.”

His twelve-year-old brother sputtered, not knowing whether to be insulted or pleased.  “Yeah, well, so are you!” he shot back, not knowing what else to say.

Hoss grinned.  “That’s mighty kind of you, Little Joe.  And its a right good day to be kind.  You remember what tonight is?”

“Another boring evening with the Hoffmeisters, listening to them and Pa talk about old times?”

He laid a hand on the shoulder of his brother’s sleet-encrusted jacket.  “Yeah, but it’s also the night that K-necked feller comes, remember?”

Little Joe frowned, looking mighty puzzled.  Then his brown brows popped up and his eyes lit with surprise.  “You mean to tell me you still believe that old superstitious stuff?”  Joe eyed him up and down.  “Ain’t you a sight too big to believe in faeries, middle brother?  ‘Sides, even if they were real, those little critters would take one look at you and go runnin’ for fear you’d step on them and squash them!.”

It was part and parcel of their relationship.

He had to go for him.

‘Course Joe was quicker.  The scrawny little cuss ducked under his arm as he reached for him and high-tailed it for his horse.

“Last one home gets the switch in his shoe!” baby brother shouted as he vaulted onto Cadfan and took off at a break-neck pace across the frozen ground.

Hoss stood beside Chubb for a moment, lookin’ after him and thinkin’ about that day when Mama came flying into the yard just like that and ended up dyin’.  As the teenager lingered, tears dripping from his eyes like water off of sunlit ice, he sensed motion behind him.  Wonderin’ if it was that dang little ornery bunny again, he returned to where he had been.  Squintin’ into the sleet and squattin’ on his haunches, Hoss checked the burrow and was surprised to find it lined with feathers and some kind of downy fuzz that Mama and her six young’uns – his little feller included – were nestling right contentedly into.  He scratched his head as he looked at it.  It hadn’t been there before.  If that mama bunny had worked this particular magic, she sure was faster than a comet.  Looking around, the teenager checked the hard ground for footprints.  At first he saw nothing but his own.  Then, he found what looked like child’s tracks leading up to the burrow.

But not goin’ away.

Puzzled, Hoss stood there thinkin’ until a shiver that would have brought the snow down from a mountain tops shook him, remindin’ him that it was dang cold, he was without a winter coat, and his crazy little brother might just be lyin’ on the road somewhere hurt after fallin’ of his horse.

Dismissing the tracks with a snort, Hoss mounted his own horse and rode toward home.

Seconds after his departure a whirlwind of sleet appeared and several small figures stepped out of it.  They were cloaked and hooded; their heavy garments homespun; thick and warm and dusted with snow even though none had fallen yet in this land.  One wore brown, another the green of the needles of the tall pines that surrounded them, and the last a pale shimmering blue-gray like the sky at twilight.  They were odd little figures, both young and old at one and the same time; bent, bowed, but energetic.  They moved, not in a straight line but in a kind of dance, circling about each other while humming and singing snatches of ancient tunes.  The one in the brown cloak crossed to the burrow and knelt.  Reaching inside, she picked up the mama bunny.  The wild animal did not start.  It knew no fear.  It simply let the hooded figure cuddle it against its chest and caress its fur.  Finally, Brown Cloak kissed the rabbit between the ears and returned her to her babies.

Standing, she looked at her companions.  “Was that all?  Short and tall?”

“No.  There are three,” Green Cloak answered.

“Three?” Gray Cloak queried as she shook her head.  “That number brings bad memories.”

“But good ones too,” Green Cloak reminded her companion.  “Who knew?  Good can come and often does from something so sad.  So bad.”

All three nodded.

“What did the rabbit say?” Gray Cloak asked.  “Is the master away?”

Brown cloak nodded solemnly.  “Even today.”

Gray Cloak tilted her head.  A wisp of gossamer-fine white hair escaped her hood to billow in the December wind.  “What then are we to do?”  She  turned to the sprite in green.  “Did Knecht Ruprecht tell you?”

Green Cloak gestured and they drew together, joining hands and touching noses cold as ice and red as roses.

“Before tomorrow’s clock strikes nine. we gathered here must divine the nature of each son within.  Whether they do good or sin.  Whether they be kind or mean.  If they live a life unseen.  If they be of temper fast, or of a dark nature cast.”  She paused and her voice fell, taking on the sound of wind moaning through rocks.  “Who within will rewarded be, and who be punished of the three.”

Gray Cloak nodded.  “I will take the one who rides fast as a whirlwind, wild as the tide.”

“I will take the one unseen, for mysteries I find most keen.”

Green Cloak nodded to her brown companion.  “That I see will leave for me fair rabbit’s friend.  In the end, I would have chosen he, gentle as the lamb, tall as the tree.”

Their hands links together and crossed one over the other, the three nodded.  Then, with laughter like bells they broke on the wind, dissipating as the morning dew, knowing what each must do.

Weinachsten had come to the Ponderosa.

TWO

Hoss was in his bedroom squinting in his mirror, trying to comb the unruly reddish-blond fuzz he called hair into some sort of shape his Pa would recognize as proper.  It was about as difficult as corralling one of them wild horses they caught from time to time.  He reared back and looked at it, turning his head from side to side, and pronounced it done even though it kind of looked like waves on a choppy sea.  Catching the thin black tie around his collar with one finger, he tugged it, hoping the knot Adam tied would slip just a bit.  Looking proper was one thing.  Starving was another.

At this point he doubted Hop Sing’s strudel would make it past his Adam’s apple!

Hoss looked at his tall, big-boned frame.  He was all dressed up in his Sunday suit and thought he cut a pretty good-lookin’ figure.  Pa’d taken him to the city last year and got it for him on his birthday.  Mr. Roberts, the tailor in town who altered Pa’s clothes, had worked on it twice since then letting the trousers out around the waist and movin’ both the jacket and pants cuffs down.  The last time the tailor said he’s done run out of extra cloth and Pa either needed to buy him a new suit or cut off his hands and feet.

Little brother’d been with them and it’d taken a full ten minutes for him to stop laughin’.

Hoss turned toward the door.  Speakin’ of laughin’, there was some kind of hyena sound comin’ from down the hall.  Still pulling at the lynch knot older brother had made of the black ribbon around his neck, the teenager opened his door and peered into the corridor.  Yep, someone was laughin’ and it didn’t take no Pinkerton detective to figure out who it was.

He’d know that girly giggle anywhere.

With a glance at the staircase – at the bottom of which he knew their father was sitting with the Hoffmeisters, impatiently waiting for them to make an appearance – Hoss headed for his brother Adam’s room.

Luckily, he got there in time to prevent a murder.

“Why, you little scamp!”Hose heard Adam snarl as he walked into the room.

Older brother’s hands  were out and he was headed for Little Joe who was lyin’ in a heap on the floor, his face beet red, his body shakin’; laughin’ like a lunatic.  Apparently Joe had no idea he was in mortal danger ‘cause he wasn’t doin’ nothin’ to get away.

He s’posed he’d better intervene.

Two steps put him between them.  Holding up his hands, he said, “Now, Adam, calm down.”

“Calm down?  Calm down!  Did you see this?  Did you?  Do-you-see-this?”

Older brother was pointin’ at his hair.  Now Adam was right proud of his hair – nearly proud of it as Little Joe was of his.  Adam always made sure those thick black locks he had was well oiled with pomade and formed into a kind of wave that rolled back over his head.  Hoss’ gaze went to that hair, which had a kind of whitish grainy look, and….

A snigger escaped him.

“Don’t!” Adam warned.  “Just don’t!”

Joe was still snortin’ and sniffin’  “Adam, I swear,” little brother gasped out.  “I swear it wasn’t me!”

Hoss was sniffin’ too.  He was sniffin’ Adam’s hair.  Finally he reached out and touched it with a finger and then put the finger in his mouth.

With a puzzled look the teenager asked, “How come you’re usin’ Hop Sing’s lard to slick back your hair?”

His older brother drew himself up to his full dignity.  “I am not using lard to slick back my hair.”  His hazel eyes shot to Little Joe who was gettin’ up off the floor.  “Someone switched lard for my pomade!”

“Honest Adam, I didn’t do it,” baby brother said as he climbed to his feet.  Little Joe looked at Adam, made a face like he’d eaten a sour pickle, and then burst out laughing again.  “But I sure wish I had!”

Adam’s eyes took on the look of a bated bull in the ring.  “I am going to kill you!”

“Boys!  Might I assume you are going to come down to supper before spring arrives!”

All three of the stopped.  All three of them winced.

Ben Cartwright had spoken.

As Adam crossed to the door, he glared at Little Joe.  “We ran into a…into a little hitch, Pa,” he said, opening it several inches and poking his head into the corridor.  “It’ll take about ten minutes to sort it out.”

“It will take five!” came the expected response.

Which, of course, was why Adam had asked for ten.

On his way back to his dresser their older brother halted right in front of him.  By this time, Little Joe was behind him.  Now, Adam was what you’d call ‘sneaky’.  Faster than Moody’s goose he reached around him, coming up just short of catching Little Joe by the arm.  In lieu of that, Adam jabbed a finger at their little brother.

“This is not settled.  You are going to pay!”

“Better wash your hair, Adam,” baby brother sniped, “or Mrs. Hoffmeister might cook your head!”

“I’ll cook your goose, you ornery little – ”

If there was one thing Little Joe was, it was fast.  Hoss watched him avoid Adam’s fingers as he reached around again, duck and roll through both their legs, and come up running on the other side of big brother.  As Joe reached the doorway he turned around, raised his hands to the height of his ears, stuck his thumbs in and waggled his fingers.

When Joe turned back, he ran into their father.

Ben Cartwright was a mountain of tranquil – waitin’ to blow.  “I thought I would come and see what was keeping you boys,” he said calmly

It was Adam who answered; his lips curled like Cupid’s bow and his dimples popping like an arrow shot out of it.  “Just a little mix-up, Pa.”

“A little mix- up?  Oh, I see….”  Their father’s near-black eyes narrowed.  “Adam, what happened to your hair?”

Older brother shrugged.  “Er, that’s the little mix-up.”

Pa sized the situation up and pivoted to look at baby brother.

“Joseph?” he demanded.

Little Joe was shakin’ his curly head.  “It wasn’t me, Pa.  I swear!”  Joe crossed his heart with the fingers of his left hand and held up his right to show that none of them were crossed. “I don’t know how Adam ended up with lard in his pomade can. Honest!”

The snicker that followed Joe’s denial didn’t do much to help him convince Pa.

The older man wasn’t buying it.  “Son, if there’s anything worse than pulling a mean prank, it’s lying about doing so.”

“But I ain’t lying, Pa!” Little Joe protested.

“Aren’t, Joseph.  We were not born in a barn, were we?”

Joe looked puzzled.  “Well, I know I wasn’t, Pa, but I don’t know about you.”

He and Adam exchanged glances.  Adam whispered close to his ear.  “I don’t need to kill him.  Pa will.”

Their father was advancing on Little Joe.  Hoss felt sorry for the kid.  All the laughter had gone out of Joe’s face and his eyes were tearin’.  He felt sure the poor little thing was tellin’ the truth, but Pa saw it another way.

“Joseph, the fact that we have guests waiting downstairs is going to delay – delay, you hear, not dismiss – your punishment.  Perhaps the fact that you will have to spend what should have been a joyous evening thinking about exactly what that punishment will be, will teach you a lesson you won’t soon –”

“Oh, Benjamin!  How can you be such a Spassverderber on Weinachsten?” a chipper voice interrupted.

They all turned to find Mrs. Hoffmeister’s small plump form filling the frame of the open door.  Hoss couldn’t help but snicker at her calling their Pa a ‘party-pooper’.  The pretty little lady who told them to call her ‘Lena’ was a lot like that there Saint Nicholas Mister Moore described in his poem. She had crisp blue eyes that twinkled and her cheeks were round and red as roses.  Her little mouth was drawn up in a smile, and her hair was white as snow and curly as a lamb’s.  Tonight Miss Lena was dressed in a deep green satin dress with a red sash around the middle, with a white lace collar and cuffs.  As they watched she moved into the room and put her arm around Little Joe’s slumped shoulders.

“Now, Benjamin, this handsome young man said he was innocent of any wrong doing.”  Lena wagged her finger at their pa and pitched her voice low as she said,  “You wouldn’t want to bring Knecht Ruprecht’s wrath down on him without just cause.”  She smiled at Little Joe.  Her fingers twitched.  Here it came.

Lena pinched Little Joe’s cheek.

Joe took it like a man.

“Lena,” Pa began, “forgive me, but it seems Little Joe played a trick on his brother….”

“And if he did, he’ll get ashes in his shoe!”  She smiled at Joe.  “I’m sure he wants nothing of the kind.”  Her blue eyes sparked like sunlight on ice as she looked from Hoss to Adam. “I don’t imagine either of you would either, and that’s what will happen if you falsely accuse your brother.”  The older woman grinned.  “Tonight’s the night when he comes!”

Pa was shaking his head.  Little Joe was clinging to Miss Lena.  Adam was looking at his shoes.  And he, well….

He was thinkin’.

“You gonna tell us the story of that there K-necked Rupert fellow tonight, Ma’am?”

She nodded eagerly.  “After supper.  I am so pleased you want to hear it.”

He was looking at Adam’s hair and thinkin’ about that man he saw in the woods.

“Son,” Pa said, “Lena’s talking to you.”

He looked up guiltily.  “Sorry.  Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I’ve told you, call me ‘Lena’, please.  You boys are old enough to call me by my Christian name.”  She looked at Little Joe.  Joe’s jaw tightened.  It was coming.  Another pinch.  “Even you, you darling little Mausi!”

Hoss snickered.  Little Mouse’s cheeks were gonna be mighty red before the evening was out.

Their father sighed.  “All right, since it is Weinachsten, the lady’s will takes precedence. But Joseph, if you try anything else….”

Joe’s green eyes went wide.  “Who?  Me?”

“And you, Hoss….”

“Yeah, Pa?” he replied warily.

“Take Little Joe with you and escort Lena downstairs.  Both of you wait with her by the fire until your brother comes down.”  Pa looked directly at baby brother. “No wandering off!”

Joe gulped.  “Yes, sir!”

Their father turned to look at Adam.  “And as for you, young man….”

Adam winced.  “Yes, sir?”

Pa sighed again.

“Wash your hair before Hop Sing turns you upside-down and uses you to grease a pot.”

It was a good thing they had Miss Lena around.  If supper had two feet, it sure started off on the wrong one.  As he and Little Joe walked Mrs. Hoffmeister down the stairs, they was greeted by a string of Chinese words longer than the railing that fenced in Pa’s thousand square miles.  Hop Sing’s irate form came flyin’ at them.  Their Chinese cook looked like he’d done taken a walk in the snow.  His silk jacket was covered in white dust and his pants looked like they’d been through a flood.

Hop Sing continued on, making a beeline toward Little Joe, shaking his fist and wieldin’ a mean lookin’ sauce pan.

“Why little boy want make Hop Sing mad?”  He indicated his dark blue shirt.  “Ruin new suit fresh from cousin number fifty-two!”

Little Joe’s eyes were round as the sauce pan.  He gulped.  “Me?  I didn’t do anything.”

“See boy in kitchen earlier.  Up in cupboard.”  Hop Sing’s black eyes narrowed as he thrust a white finger at Joe.  “Same cupboard dump flour on Hop Sing!  Make Hop Sing jump, turn pot over, dump beef broth on pants!”

Hoss looked at his brother.  Joe’s jaw was tight.  His nostrils had gone wide and he was breathin’ quick.  Still it was a toss-up as to whether fury or tears were gonna come as a result of it.

“Why does everyone always blame me?” he whined.

“Because everyone know number three son like play pranks!” Hop Sing crossed his arms.  It was a wonder to watch him do it with that big old sauce pan dangling from his fingers. “Boy should be punished!”

At last the fury won out.  “I didn’t do anything!” Joe all but shouted.

“Joseph!”  Their father was coming down the stairs with Adam.  “You will not address Hop Sing in that manner.”

“What’s this all about?” older brother asked as his well-polished boots hit the floor.

“Little boy no think Hop Sing have better thing to do than change clothes twice one day!” the Chinese man pouted.

Hoss looked at his baby brother.  He felt sorry for the little cuss.  Their pa was descendin’ on Joe like a stormy day.  Comin’ to a quick decision, the teenager moved between them.  He lifted his chin and met his father’s fiery stare.

“It weren’t Little Joe’s fault, Pa.  It were mine.”

Both his pa and his brother said in tandem, “What?”

“It were my fault.”  The teenager glanced at their cook who looked skeptical.  “I was gettin’ somethin’ out from behind the flour bag and I must of left it teeterin’ on the edge or somethin’ by accident.”

Two sets of black eyes pinned him.  Hop Sing’s and his Pa’s.

“What you get out from behind sack?” their cook demanded, those eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Well, I….”  As he hesitated Hoss felt Little Joe’s finger on his back spelling out, ‘C…I…D…E…R…V…I…’

“Cider vinegar.”  He nodded.  “Yeah, cider vinegar.”

Their father’s eyes flicked from Joe to him.  “And just what did you need the cider vinegar for?”

“I..uh….  Ouch!”

Hoss swallowed over the pain.  Little Joe had plucked a patch of hair from his arm.

“I heard it’d be good for this hear mouse-fuzz I have, Pa,” the teenager answered, indicating the low-riding waves of sandy hair on his head even as his eyes teared.  “Its s’posed to leave it shinin’.”

“Well, then, we’ll certainly all need blinders from now on, won’t we?” Adam snarked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the newel post.

Lena Hoffmeister was waggin’ her head and makin’ tsk tsk noises with her tongue.

“You’re all going to end up with ashes in your shoes!” she exclaimed.  Turning to their pa, she added, “And for you, Benjamin, it will be a switch in your slippers!”

Pa sputtered.  “Lena, I promise you, I am only attempting to keep these three young ruffians civilized.  Just because they live on the frontier is no excuse for poor….”  He halted and looked around.  Turning to Mrs. Hoffmeister, Pa asked, “Lena, where’s Charles?”

“Missy Lena’s husband say go for walk.”  Hop Sing was shaking his shirt sleeves, sending clouds of flour dust everywhere.  “Said he be back in time for supper.”  The little Chinese man narrowed his eyes and glared at each of them in turn.  “Hop Sing change clothes.  All not at table when get back,” he threw his hands into the air, sauce pan and all, “feed roast beef to goat!”

“Yes, er, well,” Pa said as the Chinese man disappeared, “this is turning out to be a most unusual year.”  He pulled at his black tie.  “Perhaps I should go looking for Charles.”

“I’ll go, Pa,” Hoss said quickly.  “And I’ll take Little Joe with me.” He made a point to wink at his father as if he understood getting Joe out from under foot was a good thing.

Adam smirked.  “I’d look out for a pail of water suspended over the door, Hoss.  That would be the natural progression of things.”

Hoss rolled his eyes. Then he patted his little brother on the shoulders.  “Come on, Little Joe,” he said, easing the boy toward the door.

“Hoss.”

It was Pa so he had to turn back.  “Yes, sir?”

“When you find Charles, be sure to –”

Pa fell silent and Adam uncrossed his arms and reached out like he was gonna catch somethin’, even as Miss Lena exclaimed, “Joseph!”

When Hoss turned it was all he could do not to break out laughing.

Little Joe was standing in the doorway, soaking wet, with a bucket over his head.

Supper was mighty sober.  Mister Hoffmeister returned just after Little Joe was sent upstairs to change his clothes.  He escorted his wife to the table and the two of them and Pa fell to talkin’ about old times back East.  Little Joe came back down a few minutes later and took his seat with his shoulders slumped, lookin’ like he was just waiting to find out how Pa was gonna blame this last prank on him.  During supper, when Pa wasn’t payin’ any attention to him, he caught Joe starin’ daggers at Adam.  Adam appeared to be oblivious but, and this was what he was sure Little Joe didn’t miss, older brother had that look – like a fat cat what caught the canary.

If Little Joe didn’t pull that pomade prank on big brother, he’d be sure to back him up when he pulled the next one.

‘Course, he wasn’t really sure why he’d backed Joe up when it came to Hop Sing and the flour.  It just seemed to him that there was somethin’ mighty peculiar goin’ on and he had some idea it had to do with that there K-necked feller.  He hadn’t really paid much attention to Miss Lena’s tale since he’d been a little squirt about Joe’s age, but it seemed to him that some of the stuff happenin’ around the house might have somethin’ to do with him.  He sure was anxious to hear it again this year.  Hoss’ clear blue eyes turned to their pa.  The older man was standing up, offering a hand to Miss Lena and sayin’ it was time to ‘retire’ to the great room.

Hot-diggity!

“What have you got to smile about?” Joe growled as he pushed his chair back and rose.

Hoss looked from the retreating backs of their father and older brother to his youngest brother.  Leaning in, he said quietly, “You just pay attention to what Miss Lena says about that there K-Necked feller.  Don’t you go fallin’ asleep!  I want to compare notes later.”

Joe’s mobile brows shot up toward that unruly fringe of curls.  “I gotta take notes?”

He scowled.  “Not real notes, Joe.  Just keep a memory for what she says.”

His brother blew out a breath.  “Don’t scare a feller like that, Hoss.  You had me thinkin’ I was back in school.”

“Ahem!”

He bet they both sure looked guilty.  “Yeah, Pa?” Hoss asked.

“Are you two going to deign to grace us with your presence?”

Together they nodded and within seconds were seated on the hearth by the fire.  Miss Lena and Mister Charles sat by one another on the settee.  Pa was in his red chair, and Adam occupied the big blue velvet one.  The fire had fallen off to coals and a gentle heat radiated from it, warming his backside.  He noticed Joe was sitting close beside him.  If it was like any other year, his little brother’s head would gradually fall until it was against his shoulder and he ended up being carried upstairs to bed.

He sure hoped Little Joe could keep awake long enough.

“Well, Lena, here we are,” their pa said, “tell us your tale of Knecht Ruprecht.”

“That’s the same one Marie told, isn’t it?” Adam asked.  “Only about Le Père Fouettard?”

Their pa smiled at the memory of Joe’s mama.  “Marie’s tale was of French origin.  The French, it seems were a little more….bloodthirsty when it came to cautionary tales for wayward boys and girls.”

Adam nodded.  “As I remember, in France Fouettard was a repentant robber and murderer.  Didn’t Saint Nicholas resurrect the boys that were killed?”

“The three boys,” Charles Hoffmeister injected, amusement lacing his tone.  “Ja, that he did.”

Little Joe was frowning. “Three dead boys?  You sure you folks ain’t talking about some dime novel?” he asked.

“Joseph….”

“Aren’t,” his brother corrected.

Miss Lean laughed.  “Knecht Ruprecht is not nearly so bad.  He was a wild foundling whom Sankt Nicklaus raised.”  She sobered quickly, lowering her voice as any good storyteller would to catch their audience’s attention.  “Sometimes he appears as a big horned monster clothed in rags.  At other times, as a man in a brown robe with a pointed hood, carrying a birch stick and a cloth sack.  At times, Ruprecht  wears dozens of tiny little bells that jingle as he walks.  You can be sure it is him, because he has an injured leg.  From childhood he has walked with a limp.”  She looked at Pa.  “Sometimes he rides a big white horse worthy of the Ponderosa, and at others, a sleigh pulled by reindeer!”

Hoss sat up, his ears tingling.

“What’s he do when he comes, Miss Lena?” the teenager asked.  “You said he rewards good little children and punishes naughty ones?”

“Oh, yes!” she agreed.  Leaning in even further, the plump little woman added, “It is said that sometimes he puts them in his ash sack and drowns them!”

“Better be careful, Joe,” Adam warned with a grin.  “If he finds you, it will be one long perpetual bath!”

Little Joe made a face and stuck out his tongue.

“Joseph.”  This time it was said quietly, and with some affection.

Joe scooted closer to him.

“Sorry, Pa.”

“Adam?”

Their older brother frowned.  Then he got it.

“Sorry, Little Joe.”

Charles Hoffmeister snorted.  “It will be interesting to see in the morning who has what left in their shoes!”

“If you are good, Knecht Ruprecht will leave you candy, nuts, and fruit,” Miss Lena continued.  “So it is best to be good.  Even if he does not beat you, or leave you a switch, he will leave ashes in your shoes!”

“I’ve heard tell, Lena,” their pa said, “that Knecht Ruprecht is the same as England’s Robin Goodfellow.”

Pa had an English background, so he should know.

“Would that be the drudging friend known as Puck?” Mister Charles asked.

“Puck is a bit of a trickster,” Pa said as he picked up his pipe.  “Is this Ruprecht?”

Hoss nudged Little Joe who was just about asleep.

“Listen to this, Joe!” he whispered.

Blinking back sleep, his brother tried.

“Your ‘Puck’, made so famous in Mister Shakespeare’s play, is known for leading folk astray with echoes and lights in nighttime, and for mischievous and practical jokes.”  The older man laughed as he looked at Little Joe. “Much like what happened here tonight.”  Mister Charles shifted on the settee and reached for the cup of coffee he had placed on the table.  After taking a sip, he added, “You should tell Hop Sing, Ben.  Puck is also known for doing minor chores around the house if you leave him cookies and milk.  However, if you should fall out of favor with him, well, then, Gott helfe you!”

Again, Pa asked Lena, “What about St. Nicholas’ manservant?”

“Knecht Ruprecht is not a trickster himself, but he travels with a group of faeries,” she explained.  “Small creatures that wear robes of woodland color.  They often appear to be old wizened women with white hair, but are actually beautiful creatures and are ageless.”

“And what exactly is it these young-but-old faeries do?” Adam asked, managing poorly to hide his amusement at the tale.

Miss Lena grinned.  “Play tricks much like Mister Puck.  They do it to find out who is good or bad; who has a bad temper or is not what they seem.”

“Sounds like we could use them when negotiating a contract, Pa,” Adam said quietly.

Lena Hoffmeister smiled at his brother.  “You do not believe.”

Adam straightened up in his chair. “No.  I’m afraid, I don’t.  It’s all so much superstition and ignorance.”

“Adam!”

“Sorry, Pa.”  He looked chagrined.  “I don’t mean to demean your beliefs, Lena.”

Miss Lena didn’t look in the least bit ‘dee-meaned’.  “It is not me you need to apologize to, Adam, but to Knecht Ruprecht.”

“Miss Lena?” Hoss asked.

“Yes, mein hertz?”

“About them little faeries….”  The teenager cleared his throat.  “Would they be, well, the sort that would worry about a little bunny family bein’ cold?”

His older brother’s brows peaked at his question.  “Bunnies?”

“Shut up, Adam.”  Before Pa could say it, he added quietly, “Sorry, Adam.”

“Why do you want to know, Hoss?” Miss Lena asked.

Hoss didn’t answer.  Instead he glanced at the tall clock in the foyer.  Midnight was comin’ soon.

He had a lot to figure out before then.

In the great room of the Ponderosa, an hour after the family and their guests retired for the night, a soft breeze stirred the ashes and the fire flared, casting a red glow over the fine French settee and its companion pieces.  As the flames settled down three small figures stepped out of the smoke.  They moved quickly from the hearth to the wooden table, leaving tiny footprints painted in ash where they went.  Climbing atop  the apples in the bowl, they took seats.  Munching on bits of the fruit they had snatched earlier and swinging their wizened legs, they took a moment to confer.

“Puzzling me are these three,” Green Cloak said.  “Older, middle, younger brother.  Tease they do and wound too.  Do they love each other?”

Gray cloak laughed. “Would that fellow Robin was here.  The one named Joseph would he hold dear.”

“But, sister, is it smiles or spite Little Joe intends?  Is the child foe or friend?”

“And what of he with midnight hair, with eyes of summer and important air? When good tricks we did play, Adam chose his brother for to pay.”  Brown Cloak shook her head, sending her gossamer hair wafting on the remnants of the breeze that had blown them in.  “Does he love or does he hate?  How can we decide his fate?”

“By yonder clock, three hours are left,” Gray Cloak said.  “Mischief must we work or be bereft.  Knecht Ruprecht is not far behind.  Should we fail, he will not be kind.  As all sleep, what are we to do?”

“As all sleep,” Green Cloak replied, “this shall we will do.  Like Mab we shall come bringing dreams anew.”

“In their dreams true self is shown,” Gray Cloak agreed with a nod.  “Is this not what is known?”

The oldest among them, Green Cloak knew many things.  She had tested both peasants and kings. She had witnessed many a lie, seen men repent and women cry.  None could withstand their faerie ways once breath was drawn and hearts they did invade.

“Yes, sister, it is so.  By morn we shall be know.

“Truth or no.”

THREE

Hoss Cartwright woke with a start.  When the teenager realized that moonlight was streamin’ into his room, he scowled.  He hadn’t meant to go to sleep!  As he scratched the reddish-blond hair on the top of his head, Hoss cast his blue eyes toward the window.  The world outside it was silent and silver and snow was fallin’.  From the position of the moon he guessed it must be a little before midnight.  Funny thing, him wakin’ up.  He’d been powerful tired after spendin’ the shank of the evening of listenin’ to Mister. Hoffmeister’s tales of their pa when he was young, and all the laughin’ and dancin’ and strange goings-on.  It seemed like a troupe of pixies had taken roost at the Ponderosa that day since odd things kept happenin’.  When Pa went to offer the bowl of fruit to Mister Charles, he found half the apples had chunks missing.  And then there was that dang little ring-tailed cat that got into the kitchen and helped itself to the fish Hop Sing was picklin’. Hoss grinned.  At one point Adam had been takin’ a turn on the dance floor with Miss Lena and his pants had just up and fell down.  Up until that point Little Joe had been huggin’ the chair by the fire so’s he couldn’t be accused of anything else and bridlin’ that girly giggle he had.

The flap in Adam’s union suit showin’ put an end to that.

After that things had calmed down.  They’d all been able to laugh about all the mischief, though Joe was still sore about bein’ accused of bein’ behind a part of it.  In the end his twelve-year-old brother had fallen asleep on the settee and, though he’d offered to carry him up to bed, their pa had done it.  Pa’d said simple pleasures were best and Joe was gettin’ too big for his britches and it wouldn’t be too long before baby brother wouldn’t let him do it no more.

With a great yawn, Hoss took hold of his covers and tossed them aside.  The linen whirlwind his fingers encountered as he did reminded him that he’d been dreamin’ somethin’ fierce.  The bed done looked like it was Little Joe’s.  Funny thing was, now that he was awake, he couldn’t remember anything much of what was in those dreams.  All he knew was that he must have been workin’ or runnin’ or something ‘cause his stomach was growling now like a great big old grizzly bear who’d just woke up from hibernation.

Hoss grinned.  He’d watched Hop Sing clear some leftover roast beef off the table.  It would be in the icebox.

With his name on it!

Slippin’ into his slippers, the teenager had just reached for his robe when he heard a noise out in the yard.    Something was shiftin’ and snortin’ out there.  Almost sounded like pigs. Or maybe a big old duck.

Or maybe both?

Catching his robe in his fingers as he moved past, Hoss thrust his arms into it before he reached the window.  Once there, he peered out.  The snow was heavy and it partially obscured his view, but he’d be danged if someone didn’t have a red wagon parked out there!.  Narrowing his eyes, he squinted, tryin’ to make it out better.  Sure was a funny lookin’ kind of wagon with curlicues on the front end and a couple of seats in the back instead of a bed.  Looked more like a carriage.  Or a sleigh.

With reindeer.

Hoss pressed his nose against the cold windowpane.  Yep, it was a sleigh with two reindeer.  And there was someone sitting in the middle seat.  They had a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and they was  leanin’ to the right like they was asleep.

Hoss blinked as something big blocked his view of the sleigh.  It was a man.  He was bigger than him – looked like he might even top seven feet.  He was dressed in a familiar looking heavy robe that fell all the way to his booted feet.  It was the stranger he’d met earlier!  The man was carrying some kind of small bundle.  Looked like someone, maybe, wrapped up in a blanket.  There was a pair of brown boots sticking out at one end.  Hoss gasped.

“Little Joe!”

The teenager’ eyes shot to the figure already seated in the sleigh.  He recognized that black head now, lolling over, restin’ on the man’s shoulder.  It was Adam.

Someone was stealin’ his brothers!

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the stranger finished depositing his little brother in the back seat of the sleigh, and turned around into a strong beam of moonlight.  What he saw made Hoss suck in air and hold onto it tight.  The stranger was a man, but he weren’t no ordinary man.  He looked like one of those there untamed fellers who chose to live alone way up in the mountains; the ones who ain’t seen hide nor hair of people or a bath in decades.  He had a beard that reached near to his knees that was so shaggy wild birds could of nested in it.  And that there hood he wore reached way up high into the sky like maybe he was sportin’ somethin’ under it.

Like…maybe…horns?

As he stood there puzzlin’ it out, the stranger leapt into the sleigh and, taking up the reins, ordered the reindeer to pull away.

“Gol-dang-it!” the teenager exclaimed.  Here he was doin’ what Adam would of called ‘waxing poetic’ about the man who was kidnappin’ his brothers!

Hopping on one foot and then the other, Hoss took off his slippers and threw them across the room, exchanging them for his boots.  Then he dropped his robe and went to his dresser.  Fishin’ in it he found a dress shirt and pulled it on over his nightshirt.  Next came a pair of brown pants that he hitched up over his long-johns, thinkin’ all the while as he struggled to get them over his boots that he should of done that backwards.  Finally, with enough tuggin’ and mild cussin’ the pants legs popped, ridin’ up over the boots and the frantic teenager shot out of his room and down the hall to his pa’s.

Banging hard on the door he shouted, “Pa!  Pa!  PA!”

It took a moment before his pa’s silver head peeked out as he opened it.  “Mmmm… Hoss?  What is it?”

“Someone done stole Adam and Joe right out from under our noses!” he exclaimed.

The older man looked at him.  He scratched his graying head and then yawned mightily.  “Be sure to wake me when the ransom note comes.”

And then Pa went back to bed.

He might as well have slammed the door in his face.

Not quite knowin’ what to do, Hoss flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time.  Rounding the settee he headed for the kitchen and the room where Hop Sing slept.

Again, he pounded on the door.

“Who wake up Hop Sing?” the Chinese man shouted from within his room.  “Hop Sing dream he back in China.  No more naughty boys who dump flour on new suit to look after!”

Hoss was panting by the time the door opened to reveal their very irate cook.

“Hop Sing!  Someone done kidnapped Adam and Little Joe!” he shouted.  “I just saw ‘em pullin’ out of the yard with the two of them in the back of a sleigh!”

“Serve number one and number three son right,” he harrumphed.  “Make old man of Hop Sing.  Such foolishness!  Maybe man-servant Miss Lena talk of take naughty boys.  Put over knee and use switch!”

“Hop Sing!  Ain’t you worried?”  Hoss couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Miss Lena said sometimes that K-necked feller puts naughty boys in that there sack he carries and tosses ‘em in the river to drown!”

The Chinese man nodded.  “Little Joe clothes stay clean for once and Mister Adam get all of Hop Sing’s lard out of hair.”

“But, Hop Sing!”

“No, but!”  Their cook jabbed a finger into his chest.  “Number one and number three son go missing, number two son go find!  Let Hop Sing sleep!”

This time the door was slammed in his face.

Rubbing his nose, Hoss turned and headed for the great room.  As he got there, the front door banged as if someone had just exited.  A light breeze lifted his downy hair as it wafted through the room carrying with it the sound of children’s laughter.

The kind of children who stuck pigtails in ink wells and put a frog in the teacher’s desk.

“Why them there little ornery fairy cusses!” he growled.  “When I get my hands on their scrawny little necks I’m gonna….”

Hoss stopped.  Fairies?  K-necked Rupert?  A sleigh pulled by reindeer snortin’ like pigs?

The teenager took hold of an inch of flesh on his arm and pinched hard.

“Youch!”

Sad to say, he was awake.

The snow was fallin’ hard as a preacher on the wrong side of the saloon door.

As Hoss urged his horse forward through yet another two foot drift, he wondered if there wasn’t some great big downy tick in the heavens right above him and some ornery cuss had pulled a thread and let loose the seam, only instead of feathers it had been filled with snow!  He hunched his shoulders and shivered as a bitter wind cut right through him.  He’d thought to grab his winter coat on the way out, knowin’ it was cold, but he hadn’t realized old man winter had decided to blow up a Blue Norther. The only good thing about the snow was it made the tracks of the sleigh easy to follow.  At first that there K-necked feller was headed toward town but then, all of a sudden, the sleigh turned and was headed the other way toward the lake. He’d been near froze to death while he stood there lookin’ from where one set of runner tracks ended and the other began.  It was like the sleigh had made a giant leap, startin’ at one point and flyin’….

Flyin’ to the other.

As Hoss neared the lake all he could think about was how mean that K-necked feller could be.  Like Pa’d said, in the country Mama’s people had come from, they told tales of him beatin’ or even eatin’ bad little boys and girls. Sometimes, like in Miss Lena’s Germany, he weren’t quite so bad, stickin’ ashes in shoes and some such.

But then there was that other story….

Hoss’ gaze went to the placid lake laying just in front of him, its still waters sparklin’ in the moonlight. The snow around it was sparklin’ too, makin’ the sight near blinding.  Desperate to find his brothers, the teenager narrowed his crisp blue eyes against the glint.  At first he didn’t see nothin’.  Then, at the edge of the lake, close by the shore, near the place where he and Adam and Little Joe liked the most to fish….

He spotted them.

The sleigh was parked at the water’s edge.  The reindeer that pulled it had been unhitched and were grazing off to one side.  The big man in the brown hooded robe was leaning over the sleigh and liftin’ something out of it.  Adam was sitting on the ground beside it, his head thrown back against the painted wood, so Hoss knew it had to be his baby brother.  Somethin’ was movin’ at that there K-necked feller’s feet.  Through the snowfall it was hard to make them out – three little cloaked figures dressed in green, brown, and gray, holdin’ hands and dancin’ in a circle.

Hoss dismounted and moved in closer.

The fairy trio was singin’ too.

“Fallen snow and icy dew, now we do what we must do.  Naughty, nasty, neat or nice, in the end all pay the price!  Father, mother, sister, brother, Ruprecht declares must love each other.  We have watched these brothers three and such a love we do not see.  Argue, fight, bicker and bite!  Bring the sack!  Remove them from our sight!”

Hoss stood, mouth gaping, as the giant man in the robe moved with Little Joe in his arms toward the lake.

Bursting from the trees, he shouted, “You let Little Joe go, you hear!  You ain’t tossin’ my brother into the lake like a sack of unwanted pups!”

Three small wizened faces turned toward him.  Three sets of black bat-like eyes framed by gossamer hair white as the snow at their feet, fastened on him.  Their thin lips curled, seemingly up to the challenge.

The one wearing brown walked toward him.  When she reached his side, she stopped.  Her cloaked head was just above his knee.

“Perhaps there is a way that you Ruprecht’s hand can stay,” she said, her voice the soft scratch of icy leaves on a bare branch.  “Are you willing to pay?”

Hoss swallowed.  His eyes went to Little Joe, all bundled up and held tight in the stranger’s arms.

“Yes…ma’am.  I am.”

The little creature chortled.  “Long ago it might be so.  But lady I be no more.  Now I come with Ruprecht to settle the score.”

The teenager was shaking his head. “Ma’am, you don’t understand.  Adam and Joe and me, well, we….”  His eyes shot to his brothers.  Adam was stirring.  “We just like to tease.  We don’t mean nothin’ by it.  Please…”

“What we know is what we see,” the fairy creature in gray said as it joined them.  “You three.  Shouting.  Fighting. Angry.”

“No, Ma’am, not angry.  Not really.  We were just funnin’.”  Hoss frowned as the third one came to stand beside her sisters.  “It’s what brothers do.  It ain’t nothin’….”

“Something seemed it to Little Joe,” Brown Cloak said.  “Tears he had, and woe.”

“Anger too at black-hair there.”  Green added as she joined them and pointed at Adam who was stumbling to his feet.  “Tricks he played.  Most unfair.”

“Now Little Joe didn’t play no tricks!” he countered, even though he wasn’t entirely sure Joe hadn’t had a hand in at least one of them.  “He may be a minx sometimes, but Joe’s a good boy!”

“Ashes or switch.  It matters not which,” Gray Cloak snarled.

“Now, you listen here you little…”  Hoss stopped.  They were…ladies.  At least in a way.  And his pa didn’t take to no one talkin’ unkindly to ladies – no matter how much busybodies they was.

“You don’t know nothin’ about us!” the teenager insisted.  “You come by one night out of the year and catch Joe maybe up to some tricks and Adam and me ready to pound him for it, and you think we don’t love one another!  You think that’s all we are.”  Hoss pulled himself up to the fill dignity – standing in two feet of snow with his nighttime hair on, wearing a nightshirt with a dress shirt and coat over it, and a pair of church pants with work boots would allow – and finished.  “I’m here to tell you that you may dang well be Father Christmas’ sprites, but you sure-as-shootin’ got it all wrong!”

Adam was standing now, swaying on his feet halfway between the giant holding Joe and him.  Older brother blinked back sleep as he asked, ‘Hoss, what’s going on?”

“That there K-necked feller was gonna toss you and Joe in the lake!” he declared, pointing a finger at the offender who had remained silent throughout.

That answer made Adam blink again.  “What?”

“Get that fog out of your head, Adam!” he snapped.  “We got us a passel of trouble here!”

For as he had been speaking to Adam, the horned creature in the robe had turned and begun to walk toward the water.

“Hey!” Hoss shouted as he pushed past the sprites and followed.  “Hey, you!  K-necked!  You turn and look at me!”

The giant man in the robe halted.  When he did as he asked and turned to face him, it was all the teenager could do not to run in spite of the fact that Miss Lena’s Ruprecht had Little Joe in his arms.  The moonlight was streaming down and it crept inside K-necked’s hood revealing for the first time the man-servant’s terrible face.  Actually, it was more an animal’s face than a man’s and, like he’d suspected, there was a big old pair of horns like a Billy goat’s sprouting out of his head, liftin’ and fillin’ the hood he wore.  The man’s skin was dark in color and every bit of it that showed was covered with a wiry stiff hair an inch or two long.  Small things moved in his beard – birds flittin’ in and out, bugs crawlin’….

And strange enough, a butterfly or two.

Older brother finally made it to his side.  His mouth was gaping too.

Adam got it all back quicker than him, though.

“Take me!” big brother shouted.  “I was the one being mean.  I knew Little Joe hadn’t done any of those things.  I just wanted to get him in trouble.  I’m the naughty one!”

Hoss stared at him.  “Now, big brother, you know that ain’t true.  You felt right bad about accusin’ Little Joe.  You –”

An elbow in the ribs silenced him.

“He’s stupid,  He doesn’t know anything.”  Adam glared at him.  “He’s just a big oaf!”

The teenager blinked this time.  For a second older brother had him.  Then he got it.

“Don’t you listen to him none!” he countered.  “It’s me what’s smart.  I played all those tricks to get both Adam and Little Joe in trouble!  If you throw anyone in that lake there, then you’d best throw me!”

A soft sound startled them.  It was kind of like the noises Little Joe made when you pulled all his covers back and shook the bed like the earth was quaking in order to rouse him in the morning.

“Mmm…eh….  For Gosh sakes!  Can’t a feller get some sleep?”

That’s ‘cause it was Little Joe.

“Joe!  Little Joe!  Look out!  That there K-necked feller’s gonna toss you in the lake!” Hoss shouted.

Joe looked up into the terrifying face.  His eyebrows danced and his nose twitched.  “Whatever for?”

“For your sins.”

The deep voice startled them all.  It issued from the throat of the tall horned being and rumbled across the hushed land, causing the branches to drop their fresh coating of snow.

Hoss and Adam exchanged glances.

“Little Joe’s just a boy!” Adam shouted.  “He’s not even reached the age of accountability.  You can’t blame him for things he doesn’t even understand!”

Baby brother was scowlin’.  “Who you calling a boy?” he shouted back.  “They’re both lyin’, you know,”  he told the robed man holding him.  “Why, I’m just about the danged-est, most cussed evil thing you ever held.  You better just toss me in that lake now and forget about them!

Leave it to Little Joe.  Looking down the lion’s mouth, he’d take hold of it’s tongue.

“Now, you listen here!” Hoss declared as he moved forward.  “It don’t matter whether we’re naughty or nice, any of us!  Seems to me for someone workin’ with Saint Nick, that you’re forgettin’ what this here Weinachsten is all about.  We learned in Sunday School that all of us are bad, so if you’re gonna go by that, you might as well toss everyone in the lake and forget about puttin’ candy or nuts in anyone’s shoes!  We all deserve ashes or a switch. Ain’t that right, Adam?”

His brother nodded.  “What he said.”

“Christmas is about the baby Jesus comin’ to make all that right.  To take all them bad things we done on himself later on that cross and leave us all as white as this here snow you’re standin’ on!”  Hoss drew a deep breath.  “So in my eyes, it’s you and them ornery little fairy things that deserve a switch in your shoes!”

Adam was applauding.

Little Joe, on the other hand, was waggin’ his finger.  “Hey, Hoss.  Could you wait until I get down before making him mad?”

Hoss was standing with his hands on his hips, his chin thrust out, his brow wrinkled and his ice blue eyes shootin’ cold fire.

“Well?” he demanded.

A tap on his knee made him look down.  It was the sprite dressed in green.  The little fairy face that looked up at him seemed suddenly decades younger.  Her skin was smooth and her gossamer white hair had grown thick as a pony’s tail.  A smile lit the tiny creature’s eyes.

“Darkness there is in men’s hearts but also there, there is a spark.  Man must choose for himself or for others.  To be alone or to stand with,” she turned to look at Adam who was helping Little Joe out of K-necked’s arms, “with his brothers.  So we see it is with you three.”

“You have passed the test,” Brown Cloak said.  “You and your father are three times blessed.”

Little Joe was at their side now, huffin’ and snortin’ steam like a stallion.  “If you think that makes up for what you put my brothers and me through,” he shouted, his fists clenched, “Well, you got another think comin’ to – mmmrrpph…”

Adam was right good with that hand of his.  Fit right nice over Little Joe’s mouth too.

Gray Cloak grinned.  “This boy and I, I like him fine.  Kin we are, and kind!”

Baby brother bent down and went nose to nose with her.  “Who you callin’ a boy?”

Within a second Little Joe was upright again, staring with the rest of them at the pretty lady now wearin’ the gray cloak.

That little sprite was now about an inch taller than Joe!

“Of the three, kindred spirits are we,” she said as she touched Little Joe’s cheek.  “Watch will I keep, ere you sleep.  Winter snow or green grass mown, be I there until you’re grown.”

Brown Cloak appeared, similarly transformed.  She stood before Adam.  “Man are you, yet needs have too.  One day, you will sail far away. When you do, I will go with you.”

The sprite in green stepped up to him last.  She paused and then reached out and placed her hand over his heart.  “Gentle giant.  Animal friend.  Slow to hurt, quick to mend.  Wise beyond words and like no other.  Loving son, loyal brother.”  She paused and her black eyes seemed to burn into him.  “Such a soul, burning bright, like a candle gives its light.  This it does to show the way.  Thinks it not about the day; how long it bides, how brief its stay.  Heart of gold, silver soul, shine, dear son.”

With her other hand she drew his head forward and planted a kiss on top of his head.

“I will see you anon.”

Hoss frowned mightily as he reached up to touch that kiss.  His head was wet where she’d left it.

Mighty wet.  Like it had been raining.

A second later came the storm.

Sputterin’ and spewin’ the teenager sat up in bed to find his brothers starin’ at him.  Little Joe had an empty coffee cup in his hand.

It was still drippin’.

“I’d just about decided it was gonna take a flood to wake you up, brother!” Joe remarked, his lips twisting.

Hoss’ gaze went from his younger to his older brother.

“What in Sam Hill do you two think you’re doin’?” he snapped as he struck water from his eyes and sat up.

“We’d just about decided Knecht Ruprecht had come back and taken your soul away in a sack and tossed it in Lake Tahoe,” Adam said, a strange tone to his voice.

Hoss was scowling so deep his forehead felt like a freshly plowed field.  He glanced again, this time from  Adam to Joe.  They both looked…well…mortified.

He probably did too.

“You two?”  He cleared his throat.  “You too?”

“You, me,” Adam said.  “By the lake.  Big guy.  Bad beard.”

Hoss looked at their baby brother.  “And you, Little Joe?”

Little Joe was lookin’ dreamy, which weren’t surprisin’ since the light was just dawnin’ outside.

“Huh?” Joe asked.

“Did you have the same dream?  You know, the one with that there K-necked feller was gonna chuck you and Adam into the lake for bein’ naughty?”

Adam snorted.  “All Joe remembers is the women.”

That’d be baby brother.

Hoss placed his bare feet on the floor.  It was only, as he saw he was still wearing his nightshirt, that he realized he had never tossed on his dress shirt and pants or put on his work boots and headed outside into the icy cold night.

It had all been a dream.

In the dawning light, in the great room of the Ponderosa ranch house on the floor below the brothers’ bedrooms, three ethereal creatures appeared from out of a puff of chimney smoke.  Shed of their wintry cloaks and the small stature they hid behind, they stood revealed as a trio of beautiful young women whose waist-length hair, translucent wings, and slightly pointed ears revealed their magical nature.  They moved in silence throughout the vast room with its red leather chairs, striped settee, and great stone hearth.  Each had been upstairs while the brothers’ slept and had brought with them a pair of boots.  Gray cloak had chosen Little Joe’s Sunday best, made of deep brown, hand-tooled leather.  Brown Cloak likewise had picked Adam Cartwright’s dress boots, so soft and supple and made of snakeskin.  Green Cloak, who made her way now toward the ranch house door, carried Ben Cartwright’s middle son’s everyday work boots.  The much-abused footwear was well-worn, the vamps beaten down.  One of the pull-straps had been re-stitched and the outsoles replaced more than one time.  To the faerie creature they spoke of who the teenager was and, even more, of the man he would become.

As Gray Cloak placed Little Joe’s handsome boots next to Hoss’ simple ones, her sister frowned at her.  “Why, sister, have you chosen these?  Knecht Ruprecht will not be pleased.  Of the three, most kind is he, with a heart three times his size.”

“Sister, you are wise,” Brown Cloak agreed.  “You speak true.”

“Wise you are, but foolish too,” Green Cloak responded as she knelt and touched the collar area of the worn work boots with loving care.  “These you bring,” she indicated the shining boots to either side, “what tell they you?  Little and nothing of the man, of his heart, of where he stands.”  She rose to her feet.  “This one of the three, big of heart and slow of speed – this one has many  miles to go.  His pace must be quick, it may not be slow.  These boots will not lead as those you chose to idle deeds, nor will they pose on dance floors grand or bring a father’s heavy hand.  They will not guide Hoss to idle nights, to frivolous deeds, to parent’s fright.  Solid and steady are they, like man who wears them.  So I say.”

She bent over and waved her hands above the soiled work boots, filling them with candy and nuts.  And then, at the last moment, magicked a switch and anchored it through one of the pull straps.

“Sister, indeed, a switch?  What for?” Gray Cloak asked.

Brown Cloak blinked.  “For being angry, hurtful, sore?  Or yet, something in-between?  None of these have we seen….”

“Such is not what it means.”  Green Cloak smiled. “Such is not what it seems.”

“What seems it then?”

With a flutter of her transparent wings, the faerie clothed in green replied, “It is not for men, nor even for thee to know, but for Hoss.  He will not count it as loss.”

Laughing at her sisters bemused expressions, Green Cloak gave a signal and they all broke upon the air and were gone.

EPILOGUE

December 1873

Hoss Cartwright sat on top of a flattened rock by Lake Tahoe, staring at the still water and waitin’.  It was a beautiful spring day.  The sky was bluer than he’d just about ever seen and the grass was greenin’ up.  All around him tiny white and purple flowers lifted their heads toward the sun.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come here today, though he had an idea.  Still, he was a patient man.

He’d just wait around ‘til he found out.

It made him laugh when he realized just where he’d ended up.  After arriving, he’d ground tied Chubb and made his way into the woods.  It only took a minute and he found it.  When he did, he let out one big long belly laugh.  Danged, if there wasn’t a rabbit burrow pitched in that same nest of rocks with a mother rabbit lookin’ out at him!  ‘Course he knew it couldn’t be the same rabbit he’d seen that December so long ago, but he figured it could be one of her grandchildren.  Leaning down, the big man put a finger to her tiny head.  Weren’t no babies yet, but they were comin’.  Spring was a time of birth after the long death of winter.

Least ways, it always had been.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard her.  With a sigh, Hoss rose to his feet and turned.

There she was, just like he’d seen her on and off throughout his life.  Sometimes it was out of the corner of his eyes; other times reflected in a mirror.  Once or twice even lookin’ out of the horse trough at him.

Green Cloak.

The fairy creature had her hood thrown back.  The breeze off the lake was liftin’ her waist-length hair, makin’ the white stuff billow and wave like a sail on one of them tall ships Pa and Adam were so crazy about.  The gossamer stuff framed her striking face, highlighting those perfect midnight black eyes.

“Is it time?” he asked.

Her look was wistful.  “Soon it shall be.  The time is not up to me.  It is not today.  Neither is it far away.”

Hoss pursed his lips as he ran four fingers through his thinning hair.  With a sigh, he said, “Leastwise that gives me time to say goodbye.”

Her name was Laila.  He’d found that out over the years.  She and her sisters were the kind of fairies who guided children through their lives.  Hoss’ lips curled with an affectionate smile.  He still thought of her as ‘Green Cloak’ though, from the first time they’d met.

Laila came forward to take his hand.  Her skin felt like, well, like that mama rabbit’s fur – soft, almost unreal.  “And what do you say?” she asked.  “How prepare to meet the day?”

He scuffed his shoe.  “Shucks, I don’t know.  Maybe just tell Pa and Joe what’s comin’, and that I love ‘em and I’ll miss ‘em.”  The big man paused.  “I sure wish Adam was here so I could tell him too.”

Her light fingers squeezed his.  “No need is there.  Adam has gone before to prepare.  He waits for you by the lake above, with others you love.”

Hoss’ blue eyes widened and then teared.  “Adam….”

“Happy is he.  Happy is your mother.  Longs she to hold you and no other.”

“But Joe and…Pa.”

Laila smiled broadly this time as she reached out and struck away the tear that clung to his lashes.  “Long it seems to men.  Short will be the time ‘ere you see them again.”

Fear gripped him.  “They ain’t gonna….”

“No, their time is not now.  This I vow.”  The fairy held out her hand.  “The gift I bestowed so long ago before you were a man – have you it to hand?  ”

Hoss looked down.  His lips curled with chagrin as he pulled his vest aside and slowly drew the battered wooden switch out of his pocket.

“Yep.  I’ve been bad, ain’t I?” he asked with a wink.

She smiled, but sobered quickly.  Her black eyes sought his gaze and held it.  “Do you understand why it is you who have it in hand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”  The big man stared at the little piece of wood, thinking for a minute before speakin;.  “Whenever I got too big for my britches or come up jealous of my brothers for their looks and easy ways,” he swallowed, “or maybe wanted to toss them on their heads so’s I could have my own way, I’d pull this here switch out and look at it.”  His blue eyes crinkled.  “Kind of put everythin’ in perspective, if you know what I mean?”

Laila laughed and the sound was like water tinklin’ over rocks. “A rare gift for one just as rare, even with his britches big and thinning hair!”

He considered all she had said.  “So you’re sayin’ the best thing I can do for my family is not to make them think about what’s bad that’s comin’, but just keep lovin’ ‘em until my last breath.  Ain’t that right?”

“Wisdom too,” she said, and then she looked down, “and the same boots on you!”

Hoss blinked.  He lifted his hat and looked at his feet.  Laila was funnin’, of course.  He’d out-growed those boots long ago.

Funny thing was, it seemed he had four feet.

A second later ice cold water splashed in his face and he heard that girly giggle that hadn’t changed in over twenty years.  Lookin’ up, he found his little brother standin’ over him, an upside-down canteen in his hand.  Even though the day was cold, Joe had his shirt off.  He dropped the canteen in his lap and then headed for the lake, shouting.

“Last one in is a three-legged mule!”

His high-pitched laughter, shoutin’ out delight, followed Little Joe all the way into the water.

Hoss rose.  He reached in his pocket.

It was empty.

Danged if he didn’t give up that switch a day or two too soon.

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright