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

Rating:  G  (1,810 words)

Christmas Apart by Foreverfree

The morning of December 11th, 1849

Ben Cartwright entered his youngest son’s room and bent over the boy’s bed.

“Joseph,”  he whispered.

The seven year old stretched like a cat, yawned loudly, then curled up into a little ball under the covers.

Ben stroked the brown curls from Little Joe’s forehead until he opened his eyes. “It’s time to wake up now. It’s a new day.”

The child looked around blindly for a moment until he caught sight of his father. Then the smile – oh, that smile – radiating complete confidence and unconditional love, and then the sleepy voice. “Papa!”

Sleep-moistened arms around his neck, the sweet smell of a child’s skin and linen nightshirt. Ben rocked the little bundle in his arms.

“Hop Sing has made breakfast for you,” Ben said. “Once you’ve finished eating, I have something to show you, son.”

The boy wriggled out of his arms and jumped up in the bed, bouncing happily on the mattress.

“What is it, Pa?”

His father chuckled. “I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you – after breakfast. You have to learn to have patience, young man.” He stood up and turned for the door.

“I’ll have patience once you’ve told me!” Little Joe pleaded.

 

Ben went to the next room to wake his middle son. “Morning, Hoss,” he said. “Are you wide awake or still tired?”

“Tired,” Hoss replied, and yawned noisily.

“There’s breakfast ready for you in the kitchen,” Ben said, pulling his covers off to pat him on the back.

He was warm and a bit clammy.

“Eggs?” the fourteen year old asked. “I’m starving.”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes” Ben said. “And newly baked biscuits. Don’t go back to sleep or it’ll get cold.”

“Sure, Pa,” Hoss yawned. “I ain’t never missed a meal, and I ain’t planning on starting now.”

Ben laughed and ruffled his hair.

*

A few minutes later, a newly dressed Little Joe bounced down the stairs. He sat down by the breakfast table next to his father.

“I heard Hoss snoring when I passed his door,” he said. “I bet it’s spring fever!”

Ben Cartwright smiled. “I doubt that,” he replied. “It’s Christmas in two weeks.”

“The thing you wanted to show me, that ain’t got nothing to do with Christmas, has it?” the boy inquired.

“It depends,” Ben said. “If you’re going to keep asking questions for two more weeks, then I suppose you can say it will have to do with Christmas.”

 

He was eager to show his youngest son, but not just yet. He knew that if he did, Little Joe’s consequent excitement would lift him clear out of the region of matters like breakfast. Not until the boy had finished his plate of eggs did Ben say:

“Look outside son, if you want to see something beautiful.”

Little Joe immediately sprang to his feet, his face radiated with the flame of his spirit when he reached the window. He looked out and gasped. Pa was right, it was a beautiful sight. Soft, small white flakes were falling silently from the sky. They seemed to dance in the morning light and almost sparkle as they reached the ground.

 

“Oh, Pa, it’s snowing!”Joe’s resounding yell was followed by a thud from Hoss’ bedroom as the older boy woke up and fell out of bed. Barely noting this misfortune, Joe continued excitedly: “Can I go outside right now before it stops?” His face was split by a huge grin, his green eyes beaming.

“Yes, yes, run along,” said Ben indulgently. “Joseph – are you crazy? Come back this instant and put something on you!”

The boy stopped in his tracks on the porch. “Where’s my winter coat?” he shouted.

“Hanging by the door,” his father replied. “Inside the house!”

*

Little Joe ran, slid and jumped in the white, fluffy snow. He was sticking his tongue out as far as possible trying to catch the big, soft flakes which sifted down around him and dissolved in his mouth with a sharp tingle.

 

Hoss soon jumped down the steps of the porch to join in the fun.

“Hey, Short shanks!”

Joe looked up and grinned mischievously. “Hey, big brother!”

“Dadburn your ornery hide!” the big brother exclaimed as a snowball whizzed over his head. He scooped up a handful of snow and balled it. Joe giggled and took off around the corner of the barn. He managed about five snowslowed steps before Hoss’ snowball smashed between his shoulder blades. The surprise made him fall flat on his stomach into the snow.

“Hey, no fair!”

“What ain’t fair?” Hoss wanted to know as he stretched out his hand to help his little brother up.

“You didn’t miss me, Hoss! That’s what!”

“You gotta learn to aim better,” the ever so helpful fourteen year old explained while he released the child’s hand.

“Like this?” Little Joe asked and shoved another ball into his brother’s face with a high pitched giggle.

“Dadburn you Little Joe! Just wait ’til I get my hands on you…”

For the first time in his life, Hoss Cartwright had completely forgot everything about breakfast. There were so many fun things to do in this glorious white snow. Snowballs and uncontrollable laughter filled the air.

*

Inside, Ben watched through the kitchen window as two of his sons tumbled in the snow. Even though Hoss was getting too old for such games, he still thought it was fun to build snowmen and have snowball fights. If Adam were home, he would not have shared that kind of juvenile excitement. But he would stand by the window and contemplate over nature’s beauty, like his father.

They all missed Adam. The Ponderosa was so empty without the presence of the oldest son.  They also missed Marie, his late wife and Little Joe’s mother who had tragically passed away in a riding accident a couple of years earlier. Ben couldn’t blame his oldest son for wanting to further his education. Sometimes he wondered, though, if the grief following Marie’s death had played a part in Adam’s decision to move to Boston.

Adam’s birth mother Elizabeth had died bringing the boy into this world. Ben had then taken his infant son, left New England and headed West. Adam had been three years old when Inger entered their lives. Inger and Adam quickly formed a mother-son bond and she was the only woman he’d ever referred to as “Mama”. It was the only time he had been able to live his life as a child, without the responsibilities of an adult.

But the boy’s childhood had shattered only three years later when he witnessed Inger fall to her death during an Indian attack.

When Ben met and wed his third wife Marie, Hoss had instantly bonded with her, and she returned his affection. But Adam had never felt the same way about her as he had about Inger, and when Marie died, Ben had been immersed in his own grief and unable to emotionally be there for his sons. The void was so great that it was impossible to see where it started or ended.

It had fallen upon Adam to take the responsibility for his younger brothers. Had the circumstances forced the young man to flee – to something that was both familiar and unfamiliar, to a life in which Marie had never existed?

Ben sighed. It was times like these, when his sorrow was combined with guilt, he couldn’t help thinking that everything would have been different if Marie had lived. If Adam hadn’t applied to college.

He prayed that they would find their way back to each other and be able to leave this anger and guilt behind.

 

A snowball struck the windowpane, and he saw Little Joe’s alarmed expression as he reached up his mittened hand to cover his mouth. At the sight of him, Ben made up his mind. Quickly he ran out to the hall, threw on his winter coat, and then tore open the front door. Doing his best imitation of a scary monster, he growled, “Hey, you two, time for a snowball fight!”

The boys stared at him in surprise. Then they shouted their joy to the winter sky.

***

Meanwhile, Adam sat in Boston and watched the snowflakes fall outside his windowpane. He grabbed pen and paper and wrote:

Dear Pa, Hoss and Little Joe,

It’s no exaggeration to say that Boston is a new world with so much to offer. It is all I expected it to be and more. I have already told you about the gas street lights, cobblestone streets, museums and all the different stores. Not far from the  library is a store I believe Hoss and Little Joe would like. It sells nothing but candy and ice cream and in an abundance of sorts and flavors.

Boston also offers a guarantee of a white Christmas this year. One week ago, it seemed as if December had remembered that it was time for winter and had turned suddenly dull and brooding, with a windless hush predictive of coming snow.

I awakened the next morning to find the world transformed. It had snowed softly and thickly all through the hours of darkness and I marveled at the beautiful whiteness, glittering in the frosty sunshine. I spent the day wishing you the same “wonder of nature” back home at the Ponderosa.

Pa, I am appalled by my own foolishness. I deeply regret my initial romantic notions. It has snowed ceaselessly for days and the drifts are covering this place with all the desolation of winter. I have never been so tired of the sight of snow.

The early winter mornings are completely devoid of color; the buildings dark ghosts, the sky lead-grey. White veils of snow dancing across the streets. The window-panes are grey with drifted snow.

Those first three weeks of college seemed long, but the rest of the semester has flown by on wings of wind. Now I’ve found myself on the grind of Christmas examinations.

I am studying hard; mulling over text and notebooks whenever I can. My days are long with all the studies and classes. I wake up and leave early, and the endless winter snow means that the door opens only a fraction – no one has ever cleared the steps in the morning. I have to force my way out, squeezing through the gap. After that, I have to fight my way through snow as high as my knees.

When I finally reach my destination, I draw a breath of relief to find myself out of the shrieking wind and driving snow.

I hope all is well with you and that you are able to enjoy a winter without too much snow.

Your son and brother,

Adam

 

Link to the 2016 Advent Calendar – Day 12 – White (by Justafan)

 

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