This story was written for the 2017 Advent Calendar – Day 22

Summary:  There’s disappointment when the Cartwrights can’t be home on Christmas Eve.

Rating:  G  1,600 words

“And all those who heard it marveled at those things which were told them by the shepherds.”

Henry and Juliet appear with permission from faust. 

Christmas Magic
~~by Cheaux

Christmas Eve 1868

The Ponderosa ranch house–the sight of joyous and at times boisterous Christmas Eve celebrations throughout the years–was cloaked in softly sifting snow.  Drifts as high as the corral fence rippled across a front yard unmarked by hoof prints or sleigh tracks. Nary a candle lit the frosty windowpanes.  No wreath graced the solid oak door.  Neither the scent of hickory rose from the chimneys, nor pungent odors of cinnamon and ginger, or roasting meat wafted from the kitchen.

Do not be alarmed, Dear Reader.  Disaster has not befallen our beloved Cartwrights, for upon meeting the Placerville stage in Carson City and hearing the report on weather and road conditions, Ben made the decision to shelter in place at the St. Charles Hotel, where he booked a two-bedroom suite with parlor.  Had it been he and his younger sons alone, they might have risked the journey home, but the passengers they collected at the stage depot that December 24 were his eldest son Adam, his wife Juliet, and their young son Henry.

Juliet, pale and unsteady, went straight away to the largest bedroom with Henry in tow, alarming Ben.

“Adam?”

“She’s fine, Pa, just exhausted from the journey.  Hank Monk was hell bent to get here before the storm hit.  Henry, of course, found the ride exhilarating, but even he is a bit battered after being tossed around the coach for four hours.  I’m sure they’ll sleep until morning.”

“If you’re sure.  Hoss and I will take the second bedroom.  Joe can sleep in the parlor.”

“Great.  I always get the sofa.”

“You’re the only one who fits on it, shortshanks,” Hoss laughed.

“I’ll have dinner sent up from the restaurant downstairs,” Ben replied.  “Steaks with all the trimmings, boys?”  Assents filled the air.

“Apple pie, too!” said Hoss.

“And a bottle of something to ward off the chill,” added Adam.

A short while later housekeeping delivered extra blankets and pillows, and a waiter brought their dinner along with two bottles of brandy.  Little conversation took place as each devoured their meal with relish.  Afterwards, Ben poured himself a stiff drink and passed the bottle.

“To my sons!  Merry Christmas!”

“To you, Pa,” the boys chorused.

“Even though we’re not at home, it’s good to be together again,” Adam said.

“Hear, hear!” They all agreed.

When the hotel staff came to clear the dishes, Adam excused himself to check on Juliet and Henry.  When he returned he saw a pot of coffee on a warmer and four mugs.  “Ahh, just what I need.  Anyone else?”  Hoss and Joe nodded, but Ben declined.

“It’s been a long day.  I think I’ll head to bed.  Hoss, try not to snore too loud.”

“Sure thing, Pa.”

After Ben closed the bedroom door, Adam asked quietly, “Is he all right?  He looks thinner to me.”

“A bit,” Joe said, “but he’s okay.  Doc Martin put him on a diet.  That steak tonight is the first beef he’s had in a month or more.”

“No kidding?  Well, I guess we’re all getting older and need to watch what we eat.”

“All but Joe.  He’s still got the metabolism of a race horse.  Just ain’t fair, I tell ya.”

“And his hair,” Adam groaned.  “Something neither of us have seen for quite a while Hoss.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I still can’t grow a proper beard.  Guess I’ll never be able to play Santa Claus.”

“Speaking of which,” Adam said, “Henry’s worried that Santa won’t find us since we’re not at the Ponderosa.”

“Did you ever wonder,” Joe asked, “when you were traveling across the country with Pa, whether Santa would know where to find you?”

“Sure, but he always did. When I got older and figured out that Pa was Santa, I always marveled at those things he found or made to put in my stocking.  I mean, there was no money and many times he went without food so that I could eat.”

Hoss frowned.  “Makes my gut clench when I think about how much he sacrificed for us in those days, even if I don’t remember as much as older brother.”

“What is your happiest Christmas memory?” asked Joe.

Adam poured himself more coffee and added a swig of brandy to the cup while he thought about it.  Then his cheeks grew round and his lips parted in a broad smile.  “That’s easy.  I was Henry’s age.  We had stopped a few days before Christmas in a little town in Indiana, not sure where exactly.  Pa found some work on a farm and the owner let us sleep in a lean-to next to the barn.  It was small but it had a wood stove with a table and chair and a cot to sleep on.  Christmas morning instead of an apple or orange in my stocking, I found a toy.”

“What kind of a toy?” asked Joe.

“It was a brightly colored wind up toy.  When I picked it up, on the bottom were two buttons that looked like big green eyes.  I pushed one and then the other, then I twisted it’s lid.  And when I set it down again, it went zip when it moved, and bop when it stopped, and whirred when it stood still.  First it marched left and then marched right and then it marched under the chair.  And when I looked to find it, it was gone, and I started to cry.  But Pa laughed, turned me around, and pointed.”

“Where was it?” Hoss asked.

“It was right there, chugging toward me, still making zip, bop and whirring noises.  I never knew what it was supposed to be and I guess I never will.  I just knew it made me happy.”

The brothers continued sharing memories of Christmases past until the wall clock chimed nine o’clock.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I need my beauty sleep,” said Joe.  “And since I have this lovely sofa to sleep on . . .get out of my bedroom!”

Hoss and Adam laughed and took turns using the shared bathroom at the end of the hall.  When they came back, Joe was already sound asleep.

The next morning, Ben rose early and, finding Joe sprawled on the sofa in a tangle of blankets and hearing no one else stirring, decided to let everyone sleep in.  He slipped out quietly to eat breakfast in the restaurant below.

John “Snowshoe” Thompson, the mail carrier who skied twice a week between Placerville and Carson City via the Johnson Cutoff, was there having a meal.  They exchanged pleasantries and Ben asked about road conditions.  John reported in his thick Norwegian accent that the snow level had fallen to 3,500 feet, well below the elevation of the ranch.

Ben frowned.  It looked like they would be spending Christmas Day in Carson City.  The family would be disappointed, but they were together and that’s all that mattered.  He ordered platters of eggs, ham, sausage, potatoes and pancakes with maple syrup to be delivered to the suite upstairs, along with three pots of coffee and one of tea for Juliet, and milk for Henry.

Joe was still passed out on the sofa, but the rest of the family was up.  Ben could hear crying and shushing coming from Adam’s room.  As soon as the door opened he saw Henry sobbing on the bed being comforted by Juliet, with Adam pacing.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” he said with a joviality he didn’t feel.  Still, it wouldn’t do to have any sad faces today.

“Morning, Pa.  Where’s breakfast?”

“On it’s way, Hoss.  Be patient.”

Joe sat up and tossed the blankets aside.  Ben noticed that his son’s pant legs were wet, but before he could comment, Joe shouted, “It’s Christmas!  Henry, get up.  Santa’s been here.”

Henry stumbled out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes.  “What?”

“Santa’s been here.  See.  Over there under the window.”

Henry’s eyes grew round and he hiccupped.  “Really?”  He looked at his Papa and Mama, who looked at each other bewildered.

“Come and see, Henry,” Joe said.

The little boy walked slowly toward his uncle and peered around the sofa to where there were six stockings hanging from the windowsill.  Each stocking had an orange and a peppermint stick in it and under the sixth stocking was a feed sack tied with twine.

“What’s that?” he said, pointing to the sack.

“Well, there are six stockings–one for each of us–and the sack must be for you since you’re the only little boy here.  Why don’t you open it?”

“May I?”  Henry looked at his Papa.  Adam, still looking confused, nodded.

Henry pulled the string.  His eyes nearly popped right out of his head when he reached inside and gave a squeal.  In his hands he held Adam’s marvelous little toy.  It went zip when it moved, bop when it stopped and whirred when it stood still.  Henry didn’t know what it was, but he loved it just like his Papa did.

Both Adam and Ben had tears in their eyes as they looked at Joe.

“How?” Adam mouthed.

“Magic,” Joe whispered.

The End

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cSiKns1zHI

May the magic of the season be with you all year long.

For those readers who wish to know more about Juliet and Henry, please visit faust’s The Art-Universe.

Link to the 2017 Advent Calendar – Day 23 – Baby from the Forrest, Baby from the Heart by mumu74

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