Summary:  This story was written for the 2016 Advent Collection.

Rating:  G  (1,350 words)

St. Nicholas Day by Cheaux

Hoss stamped his feet on the boardwalk to knock off the slush on his boots, then opened the mercantile door and shut it quickly before too much snow swirled inside.  “Hi, Cal,” he called out robustly.  “Pa’s tobacco come in?”

“It’s in back, I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks,” Hoss said, then added in a whisper,  “You seen Jamie Hunter?”

“He was looking at marbles a moment ago,” the shopkeeper responded in kind.

Hoss turned and spied the red head, but made no move toward him.  Instead, he winked at Cal and pushed a piece of paper across the counter.

The shopkeeper tilted his head back so his spectacles slid off his forehead onto his nose.  “Hmm, I’ve got just the thing,” he whispered.  Two bits should cover it.”   He returned a moment later with the tobacco and a small box which Hoss pocketed after leaving two coins on the counter.

“Jamie!  Time’s a wastin’ boy.  Let’s get going or my Pa’ll have our heads for being late.

“Ah shucks, Hoss, I was just lookin’.  How come we gotta get home so early?  I was hopin’ we could stop at the bakery.”

The thought of hot cinnamon buns made Hoss salivate, but he shook off temptation.  “Nope.  Plenty of food at home just waitin’ for us.”

“Aw, Hoss.  You’re no fun.  What’s so important about today anyway?”

“It’s December 6.”

Jamie grumbled under his breath.  That makes Christmas three whole weeks away.  

~~~~

“Well, it’s about time you two got here,” Ben smiled as he opened the door.  “Joe and I were about to send out a search party.”

The front room, from mantel to side board to stairway was adorned with sprays of evergreen boughs, wired with pine cones and holly, and tied with red ribbons.  Seasoned oak burned hot in the fireplace and from the mantel hung five empty socks.

“Leave it to you to get home when the work is already done big brother.  Is that cinnamon on your chin?”  Joe accused.

Without thinking, Hoss started to swipe at his mouth, then stopped as a high pitched giggle filled the room.  “Aw, shucks.  We didn’t stop at the bakery.”

“Ah huh.  Sure.”

“That’s a fact, Joseph, and I’m feeling plum puny.   When’s supper?”

“By the sound of pots banging in the kitchen, I would say it’s been ready and you’re late.”

“You two get washed up,” Ben said.  Joe and I will light the hurricanes and we can begin the celebration.”

“What celebration?” asked a bewildered Jamie.

~~~

Dinner was sumptuous and no one, not even Hoss, could force another bite by the time Hop Sing cleared the dishes.

If this were some sort of family celebration, Jamie thought it best he head upstairs, but he didn’t dare leave the table without permission.  As old as Hoss and Joe were, they still deferred to their father when it came to dinner etiquette.  Well, mostly.  According to Hoss, Joe had been known to bolt from time to time.  Still, Jamie didn’t think he’d better try it.

“Do you know what today is, Jamie?” asked Ben when Hop Sing set the coffee pot on the table.

“Ah . . . December 6?” he answered, remembering what Hoss had said earlier.

“Yes, but do you know whose life we celebrate this day?”

“No, sir.”

“St. Nicholas.”

“Santa Claus?”

“Not exactly. The Santa Claus myth is based partly on the life of St. Nicholas who was born in the third century in Asia Minor near the city of Myra.  His parents were good people and taught Nicholas to love God and everyone.  When they died, Nicholas inherited a lot of money which he used to help others.”

“That’s right,” Hoss said.  “Once he heard about a poor family and tossed three bags of gold through their window.  Each bag landed in a sock hung over the fire to dry.”

“Do you know what a pawn shop is, Jamie?” Joe asked.

“Sure, it’s where you can get money for stuff you own.  My Pa used to pawn Ma’s wedding ring from time to time when money ran short and we didn’t have enough to eat.  He always got it back though as soon as he got paid for rainmakin’.”

“If you were in a strange city, how would you find a pawn shop, especially if you couldn’t read?”

“That’s easy, there’s three gold balls hanging over the door,” Jamie answered.   “Oh!  The three bags of gold!”

“That’s right,” Ben smiled.  “St. Nicholas is the patron saint of those in need and the poor and the hungry.”

“My mother was Catholic,” Joe said.  “She used to tell stories and sing songs about St. Nicholas when I was little.  The one I remember most is how he saved three children from an evil butcher and became the patron saint of children.”

Ben added, “I’m not Catholic, but I was a sailor and my son Adam is at sea right now.  I have experienced the terror of an angry sea. Once a ship was sailing to Myra and a terrible storm arose.  The waves were so high that the ship took on a lot of water, the sails were torn to shreds and the mast was swept away.  The sailors were afraid. Suddenly, a stranger appeared at the helm and the seas calmed.  When the ship made port, the sailors rushed to the Cathedral where Nicholas was celebrating mass.  When the sailors arrived to give thanks, they recognized the bishop as the helmsman who had saved them.  They fell on their knees and called it a miracle.  Nicholas blessed them and spoke to them and from that day on sailors have remembered his words and have claimed Nicholas as their patron saint.”

“He is also the patron saint of prisoners and the wrongly condemned.  When I was mistaken for an Army deserter and wound up facing a firing squad, it was St. Nicholas to whom I prayed.”

Jamie’s eyes widened.  He hadn’t heard that story before and would have to ask about it later. “So tonight is about remembering all these stories about St. Nicholas?”

“Partly.  Although our faiths were different, Marie and I shared a belief in God, in our love of our children, and in the desire to follow St. Nicholas’s example.”

“Which includes the presents St. Nicholas leaves for good little girls and boys,” Joe added.  “Shall we go and see what St. Nicholas brought?”

Jamie had been following along so intently, he almost didn’t hear Joe.  “What?”

“The socks,” Hoss said, pointing to the fireplace.

“But they’re empty,” Jamie said.

“Are you sure?” asked Ben.  He nodded giving permission for Jamie to leave the table and have a look.  Everyone followed and gathered around the fireplace.  Jamie stared at the socks which were now filled with what appeared to be small gifts.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“In France, children wash and hang their socks to dry by the fire hoping that St. Nicholas will leave them a small gift on December 6.  Marie and I embraced this tradition when we were married.  There is a sock for each of our children.  Adam my first born, who although he is not here, is always a part of us.   Hoss, Joe, and we added Clay some years ago.”

“Clay?”

“My mother’s first born,” Joe said. “My brother, and always a part of us,” Joe’s eyes were moist but he was smiling.  “Remind me to tell you about him someday.”

“But that’s only four.  There’s one more,” Jamie said.

“A bit slow, ain’t he, Pa,” Hoss winked.

“Don’t you recognize that sock, Jamie?”

“It . . . it’s mine!”

“That’s right,” Ben said.  “We all thought today was a perfect day to ask you to become a Cartwright . . . to be a part of our family, share our bounty, and help care for others.”

“That is,” Joe added, “if you want to.”

“Oh, boy!  Do I!”  Jamie sobbed, throwing himself into Ben’s arms, nearly knocking him down.

“Hop Sing!  What’s for dessert?” Hoss roared.  “A fella could starve around here.”

“Oh, brother!” chimed Joe and Jamie together.

Link to 2016 Advent Calendar – Day 7 – The Stallion by jfclover