This story was written for the 2017 Advent Calendar – Day 9

Summary:  On this of all nights, an unexpected voice offers comfort to an weary traveler.

Rating:  G  (1,460 words)

“and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths,
and laid Him in a manger,
because there was no room for them in the inn”.

  ~~by Patina

“Must be an earthquake,” Adam thought as the ground moved beneath him.  A sound caught his ear and pounding in his head made him think a confused woodpecker was testing out his head.

“Everything’s dark,” he muttered.

A puff of hot breath against his cheek was followed by a snort.  “Open eyes,” said a voice.

At that moment Adam realized the earth wasn’t moving, he was, and that sound was his teeth clacking together in an effort to seek warmth.  He obeyed the voice and a clear but ink-black sky strewn with silver pin-points filled his gaze.  Then a horse’s face blocked his view.

Adam fought his shivering body to lift an arm to his throbbing head.  His finger traced the path of a furrow above his temple.

“Where’s my coat?” he muttered.

“Gone.”

“Who’s there?” asked Adam.

“Me,” said the voice.

It didn’t belong to a woman.  Too high for a man but too low for a child.

More hot air blew against his cheek.  “You up.”

Adam didn’t see anyone, or anything, but his horse.  He rubbed the back of a hand across his eyelids and looked again.

“I’m hallucinating.”

The horse nudged his rider.  “You up.”

Adam swung an arm for the reins but missed.  Sport put his nose against Adam’s side and pushed until the man was lying prone.

“Up.”

Adam drew a knee up and pushed against the snow-covered ground until he had a foot underneath him.  He reached again for the reins and succeeded.  The horse stepped back, pulling Adam to his feet.

“Cold,” said Adam as his teeth chattered again.

“Walk,” said the horse.

Adam took a few steps but had to stop and rest against the saddle as the world swam around him.  He scrunched his eyelids together and breathed as deeply as he could against the bite of the wintry air.

“Need to build a fire,” he said.

“No, walk.  Home.”

Adam’s giggle built to a full-blown guffaw, which briefly warmed him.

“Horses can’t talk.”

“Only one time animals talk,” said the horse.  “Night of the baby.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Adam.

“Animals help keep baby warm.  Let baby sleep in food.”

Adam shook his head.  “What baby?”

“Walk.  Home,” said the horse.

Adam took a deep breath and obeyed.  This time his vision remained steady as he took several steps while holding onto the saddle horn.

“Why didn’t you go home?” Adam asked.  “You could have left me out here.”

“Two-legs might not find.”

Adam’s feet tingled as the cold penetrated his boots.

“Got to ride,” he said.

Sport stopped and patiently waited for his rider to climb aboard.  At a gentle pressure, the horse began walking.

“Let’s get back to the baby,” said Adam.  His breath created warm, puffy clouds in front of his face.

“Two two-legs come to animal home.  One two-leg have baby.  Other two-leg put in food.”

“Okay, a woman had a baby.  What food was the baby put in?”

“Animal food.”

Adam snorted in frustration.  “What kind of food?  A bin of oats?”

“No, food in wood box.”

“You’re not making any sense.”  Adam’s eyebrows drew together for a second.  “Why am I arguing with a horse?”

Sport snorted in the equine equivalent of frustration.  “Wood box hold food for horse, cow, goat, and sheep. Baby put in food.”

Adam pulled his horse to stop with a brief tug of the reins.  “My God—it’s the Gospel!” he said in an awed whisper.  When he’d regained his composure, he asked, “How do you know this story?”

“Pass down from mother.  Not all animals know.  Only animals in home where two-legs have baby.”

Adam thought on that for a moment.  “Makes sense,” he said with a shrug.  “We have the same story.  Mary and Joseph, the two-legs as you call them, were traveling home.  Mary was heavy with child and needed to stop for the night.  They were told there was no room for them in the inn so they took shelter in the barn where the animals were stabled for the night.  Mary had her baby in the barn and laid him in the straw in the manger.”

Sport nodded against the martingale.  “Then sky-fliers come.  Make music for baby.  Sing.”

Adam shivered as a frigid gust of wind attacked his thinly-clad body.  “I take it sky-fliers are angels.”

Sport picked up the pace but kept his stride to a walk.  He sang a few bars of a song.

“What was that?” asked Adam.

“Sky-fliers’ song for baby.”

Adam launched into It Came Upon the Midnight Clear but his voice gave out and a fit of coughing took him before he made it through the first verse.  Looping the reins around the saddle horn, he crossed his arms and rubbed his hands against his sleeves to warm himself.

A sudden lurch into a trot jolted Adam back to awareness.  “What was that for?”

“No sleep.  Home.”

“I’m cold.”

“Sing,” ordered the horse.

“No,” said Adam in a muzzy voice.  “I wanna sleep.”

“Sing with sky-fliers,” Sport said.

An odd sound caught Adam’s ear and he turned his face up to the sky.  Faint streaks of green danced among the stars.

Adam cleared his throat and launched into Silent Night.  Except for the sound of the man singing and his horse’s hooves crunching through the snow, it truly was silent.

Midway through the final verse, a distant shout caught the ears of man and beast.  Adam gripped the saddle horn with one hand as Sport galloped in the direction from which the shout had come.  The whinny of a horse encouraged Sport to pick up his pace.

The cheery glow of a lantern emerged from the darkness.  Adam’s hoarse shout was cut off by a cough.

“Pa!” Adam said through a smile as Sport slid to a stop in front of a group of riders.

Ben draped Adam’s yellow jacket around his son’s shoulders and placed a thick blanket atop that.

“How’d you find me?” asked Adam before his jaw clenched in a bout of teeth chattering.

“Roy came by the house with your coat and said he’d arrested the man wearing it.  Fortunately, Sam recognized your coat and sent one of the girls for Roy.   When Roy brought your coat home, he said the man had confessed to shooting you and stealing the payroll.”

“Did Buck tell you where to look?” asked Adam.  “Or maybe Chubb?”

Ben and Hoss traded a glance filled with curiosity.

“Horses don’t talk,” said Ben.

Adam settled into his blanket cocoon and said, “Home.”

*

Adam stretched and rubbed his eyes as the light of Christmas morning flowed through the bedroom window.  His head still hurt but the nausea had faded.  He took a deep breath and wondered if he’d imagined Sport not only talking but also about the birth of Jesus.

He flung back the covers and resigned himself to getting out of bed.  After dressing and tugging on his boots, he headed downstairs.

Joe stirred up the embers and added a few pieces of wood to bring the fire roaring back to life.  He sat down on the coffee table and picked up his coffee cup.  Studying his oldest brother for a few seconds, he finally blurted, “Heard you got a little squirrely out there.”

Adam gave Joe a “be serious” look and reached past his youngest brother for an apple.  He took a bite and shoved the piece of fruit into his cheek.  “I’m not the one who shares morning coffee with a horse,” he said in a hoarse rasp.  With that, Adam headed for the door.

Joe shook his head at the idea of Sport talking to Adam.  “Probably traded poems,” he said with a giggle.

Adam stepped into the warmth of the barn and offered Sport the apple.  The horse gently took it and Adam patted the animal’s neck as juice trickled from its mouth.

“Did you really talk last night?” Adam asked softly.

The only response was a snort as Sport nosed Adam’s pockets and hands in hopes of receiving another apple.

Adam shook his head.  “Must have imagined it after all.”

Once Adam’s back was turned, Sport tossed his head and his lips drew back in what looked like a smile.

The End

Note: Legends say animals gain the power of speech at midnight on Christmas Eve to proclaim the birth of Jesus.

Link to the 2017 Advent Calendar – Day 10 – Shepherds by Sierra Girl

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