Summary: When a color truly matters.

Rating:  G    5,935 words

Scarlet Ribbons

Scarlet Ribbons

Little Joe Cartwright moved down the street with a sprightly step and a sparkling grin for everyone he met, first because it was simply part of who he was, but also because he was, at this moment in his life, supremely happy. Only a few days until Christmas and for once in his life he was prepared. Presents were purchased and even wrapped, much as his fingers had fumbled in the doing. He’d found just the right gifts for Pa, Adam, Hoss and Hop Sing, as well as for that new, special person in his life, Miss Sara LeAnne Jamison, soon to be Mrs. Joseph Francis Cartwright, if all went as he hoped. He’d even purchased the gift with which he wished to announce that and wrapped it in a box within a box within—he grinned impishly. It was an ornery trick to pull on the woman he hoped to spend the rest of his life with, but she’d get a kick out of it, especially when she found the stunning ring in the tiny innermost box. He just needed one thing to make the package perfect, and he was headed for the general store now to make that final purchase.

As he passed the Silver Dollar, he heard music wafting through the batwing doors and paused a moment to listen. Three proper young ladies were listening, too, risking their reputations by practically draping themselves over those batwings as Andy Walker crooned the song that was making him famous, not only in Virginia City, but in every town this side of the Sierra Nevada mountains. “And for me, some scarlet ribbons, scarlet ribbons for my hair.” The girls were sighing over every emotional word. That Andy sure has a voice, Joe thought, mouth clucking in admiration, sharpened with the slightest tinge of envy, his own singing tending slightly toward flat notes, or so Adam said. His big brother had a fine voice, too, but Andy seemed to caress the words in a way that didn’t just tell the story, but made you feel it, too.

Joe would have liked to go inside, have a beer and listen to ole Andy sing the story one more time, but he still had that errand to run, and Andy to thank for it, in a way. Every girl in town, Sara LeAnne included, had gone foolish over that song, and to prove their devotion, most of them were tying up their curls with scarlet ribbons. That was what had given Joe the idea to wrap up his own gift to Sara in some pretty hair ribbons of scarlet red. Tipping his hat to the three ladies outside the saloon, who had just confirmed his choice, he strode down the street toward Will Cass’s general store.

“Howdy, Mr. Cass,” he called as he walked through the door.

The storekeeper turned from his perch on a ladder, where he was stocking the shelves with some sort of canned goods. “Hey there, Little Joe. Good to see you, boy. You here to pick up ranch supplies or do some last-minute Christmas shopping?” He grinned broadly as he descended the ladder. “I’m guessin’ it’s the latter.”

Little Joe grinned back at him good-naturedly. “Come on now, Mr. Cass, it ain’t as last-minute as usual . . . for me, anyway.”

Sucking in his cheeks, the storekeeper nodded. “Yeah, when you put it that way, you’re plumb early this year, boy.”

“Just got one little item I need,” Little Joe said. “Some hair ribbons.”

“Hair ribbons!” Will Cass slapped his thigh. “You’ll look mighty fetchin’ in ‘em, Little Joe.”

“Ha, ha,” Little Joe said dryly, but the grin never left his face. He never minded being the butt of a friendly joke. “I want ‘em to wrap a pretty bow on a little package for someone special.”

“You think you can tie a pretty bow with them two left thumbs of yours?” Cass teased.

“You forget I’m left-handed,” Joe jibed back, “so two left thumbs would just make me twice as good at it.”

“That’s a good one,” the storekeeper chuckled. He might have known any one of Ben’s boys—exceptin’, maybe, Hoss—would get in a last zinger in any joust of jokes. Just one of the things he liked about them. He headed toward the notions department. “Stock’s a little low just now, with all the Christmas shopping, but I got a few yards left. What color you fancy . . . or have you even give it a thought?”

“Oh, yeah,” Little Joe said. “That part’s easy: scarlet.”

Coming to a dead stop, Will Cass groaned and shook his suddenly bowed head. “Oh, no, not that again. That infernal song!”

“What’s wrong with the song?” Little Joe demanded. “I think it’s real sentimental, and Andy sings it just about perfect.”

“Oh, he sings it just fine,” Cass said, lip curling, “and it’s downright good for business . . . or was until I ran out of scarlet ribbons and every lady in town let me know they might have to take their business elsewhere if’n I wasn’t gonna stock what they needed, when they needed it. But how was I to know there’d be a run on scarlet ribbons when I placed the order? Nobody’d heard the infernal song back then!”

The disappointment on Little Joe’s face was palpable. “Well, maybe somewhere else.” Quickly realizing what he’d said, he hurried to add, “Not meanin’ to take my business elsewhere . . . except for this one thing, I mean. It’s just . . . well, my girl’s real fond of that song, the way Andy sings it, and”—he shrugged—“it’s Christmas, and it’s a good color for that, too, and . . .”

Cass held up his palm. “Spare me the Joe Cartwright version of why he needs what I ain’t got. I reckon I can do without the Ponderosa’s ribbon business. Not sure you’ll have much success anywhere else, though. I’m cheaper than the fancy dress shops, but they might have more in stock.”

Little Joe gulped. “Fancy dress shops?” He was beginning to reconsider Sara LeAnne’s absolute need for hair ribbons of scarlet, if getting them meant him traipsing into fancy dress shops.

“What’s the matter?” Cass snickered. “Ain’t your girl worth it, boy?” His wide grin had taken on a decidedly taunting feel.

“She’s worth it.” Little Joe sighed, steeling himself for the embarrassment to come. He started to leave, but then turned back to the storekeeper. “Maybe I ought to get a set of some other color, just in case, you know?”

“Good idea,” Cass said. “What color you want?”

“What color you got?”

“I’ll check.” The storekeeper opened a drawer and rifled through the spools of ribbons stored there. “Well, I got black, white, orange and blue. What’s your pleasure?”

Joe’s pursed lips slid left and right, left and right as he mulled over the choices. Black would look striking in Sara’s light hair, but black didn’t seem very festive for Christmas, much less for a proposal of marriage. White wouldn’t show up well, and orange—well, orange just seemed wrong, especially for Christmas, and he’d never seen her wear a dress of that color. He couldn’t remember whether she’d ever worn blue, either, but he’d dated a lot of girls who did, and it seemed to be a color most ladies looked good in. Blue it was, then, he decided and placed his order, which Will Cass promptly filled.

*****

The front door opened and quickly closed to shut out the blast of icy air that rushed in. “Joseph? Is that you?” a voice from the dining area boomed in a potpourri of irritation, anxiety and relief.

“Yeah, Pa,” Little Joe called as he shrugged out of his flannel and fleece coat and flung it, along with his hat onto the pegs beside the door. Taking off his gun belt, he coiled the leather and laid it on the credenza.

“You’re late,” Ben said as his son rounded the corner and moved toward the table. “Very late,” he emphasized. “We didn’t wait supper.”

That was obvious from the half-emptied plates set before each of the three men already at the table as Little Joe slid into his place and smiled gratefully at their Chinese cook, who placed a warm plate of food in front of him with only a mildly reproving frown. “Glad you didn’t,” Little Joe said, “and I’m sorry I’m late. I ran into a bit of bother, trying to finish up my Christmas shopping.”

“What’d you get me?” Hoss asked playfully just before shoveling in another bite of mashed potatoes.

“Nary a thing,” Little Joe returned with a teasing grin. It faded slightly as he added, “And nary a thing I was looking for, either—and I went all the way to Genoa.”

“Well, that explains the lateness,” Adam observed wryly. “What was worth a detour of that length?”

“Hair ribbons,” Little Joe said with a long sigh.

Hoss almost spewed the potatoes in his mouth, but managed to swallow them before croaking out, “Hair ribbons? Have you plumb lost your senses, little brother?”

“The question implies he had some to begin with,” Adam said with a mirthful smirk.

“No, I ain’t, and, yes, I did,” Little Joe answered them both. Then ignoring them both, he returned to his long-delayed dinner.

“For Sara, I presume,” his father said.

“Of course, for Sara,” Little Joe said. “Hoss nor Adam, neither one, has got the hair to carry ‘em off proper.”

“Oh, funny,” Hoss snorted. “That don’t seem like much of a present for your girl, though. Thought you liked her better’n to give her just hair ribbons for Christmas.”

“It does seem a bit meager for someone you’ve been squiring exclusively for months,” Adam commented.

Little Joe laid aside his fork with a sigh. Obviously, there was to be no dinner until he’d poured every detail into three sets of itching ears. “It wasn’t gonna be her only present,” he said. “Guess you might as well know. There’s a small package I’m gonna give her when I ask a certain question at the party here on Christmas Eve. I was gonna tie it up with the hair ribbons, just to make it a mite more special.”

“I knew it!” Hoss cried. “I knew you was gonna ask her. Just didn’t know it’d be for Christmas.”

Ben’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure you want to do it that way, son? In front of so many people, I mean. If she were to say no, or even just want to think about it, you’d both be embarrassed.”

“She won’t say no,” Little Joe said with confidence, “and she don’t need to think about it.”

“Because no one could say no to Joe Cartwright,” Adam put in, adding a roll of his eyes for emphasis.

Little Joe’s nose scrunched up as he stared at his oldest brother. “No,” he drawled out. “Because we’re right for each other.”

“You sure are!” Hoss declared. “I knowed it from the start. You ain’t got nothin’ to fear about askin’ her, Shortshanks. She’s gonna say yes.”

Adam apparently concluded that this was no longer an appropriate time for teasing. “I agree. I think you two are meant for each other.”

“Thanks, brothers!” Little Joe exclaimed. He slanted a hopeful look toward his father.

Under that gaze Ben broke into a huge smile. “Well, I think so, too, so perhaps it is time to cast caution to the winds. Of course, she’ll say yes, and I couldn’t be more pleased, Joseph!”

Adam cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, may I inquire why purchasing a simple hair ribbon made you late? They are readily available in any number of mercantiles in Virginia City, after all.”

“Not scarlet ones,” Little Joe moaned.

“Must they be scarlet?” Adam asked with a chuckle.

“It’s what all the girls want.” Then Little Joe explained how Andy’s rendition of “Scarlet Ribbons” had made them the most desirable item on every girl’s Christmas list this year. “And the most impossible to find,” he finished with a disconsolate sigh. “Believe me, I looked high and low, in places I shudder to think about.” Even thinking about his trials of that long afternoon sent a tremor shivering through him. “Ladies’ dress shops. You got no notion the kind of things they got sittin’ out in plain sight in them places.”

“Oh, some of us might,” Adam said lightly.

Both Hoss and Little Joe stared at their older brother when he made this pronouncement, while Ben arched an eyebrow, his head cocked quizzically.

Seeing it, Adam somehow managed to keep a straight face. “I was, of course, referring to you, Pa, the only one among us who has been married.”

Ben still looked skeptical. “I would be pleased to hear, young man, that you have as little experience with ladies’ undergarments as your young brother.”

“Well, a little more,” Adam said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. After a pregnant pause, during which the other three Cartwrights, for varying reasons, all held their breaths, he added with a smug smile, “After all, Pa, you brought two women into this household after my birth, and I have, therefore, more than a passing acquaintance with delicate laundry on the line.”

Ben shook his head at his eldest’s sass, though his amused expression blunted even that mild rebuke. “That had better be the extent of your acquaintance with such things,” he said, the eyebrow arching up again.

Adam made no response, leaving each of the others to draw his own conclusion. “So, no scarlet ribbons,” he said, primarily to divert their attention from whatever acquaintance with ladies’ lingerie he might have. “Well, I’m sure Sara will be just as pleased with her gift, even without a pretty bow on top.”

“Oh, there’ll be a bow,” Little Joe said. “I just wish it could be the color she’d like best, but I reckon it’ll be just as pretty with blue ribbons.” He grinned broadly. “Sign of the first-place winner at the county fair, after all.”

Adam’s brow wrinkled with frown lines, while Hoss stared across the table, aghast. “Blue? You got her blue ribbons?” the middle brother asked after swallowing down the mountainous lump in his throat.

Little Joe shrugged as he forked up a sizable bite of mashed potatoes. “Best Mr. Cass had. I couldn’t give her black or orange, could I? It ain’t Halloween, brother!”

“I would,” Hoss muttered beneath his breath. “Less likely to get Halloween that way.”

“What was that?” Ben asked, his resemblance to his oldest son emphasized by the wrinkles now adorning his forehead.

“Nothin’, sir,” Hoss said quickly. While everyone else returned to their dinner, he stared down at the table without seeing anything on it. Instead, whatever vision he was viewing inside his own head put a most uncustomary frown on his genial face.

“Not going off your feed, are you?” Adam asked dryly. “You’ve only had three chops.”

“No.” The big man’s lips pursed more tightly together and then with a decisive nod, he looked across the table and said, “You can’t do it, Joe; you just can’t give her them blue ribbons.”

“Why not?” Little Joe asked, fork poised halfway to his mouth.

“Well . . . well . . . ‘cause.” Hoss’s round face grew redder between each of his stammered words. “Blue is . . . well . . . unlucky-like.”

“Since when?” Little Joe demanded.

“I don’t know,” Hoss said, looking perturbed. “Far back as there was Cartwrights, I reckon.” He looked to his older brother for help. Getting nothing in return but a taut frown, he insisted, “Tell him, Adam. Tell him about the Blue Curse on the Cartwright Clan, like you told me.”

Adam closed his eyes as his mind scrambled for something . . . anything . . . he could say that would enable him to keep faith with Hoss without bringing down his father’s ire on his hapless head. “It was only an observation,” he finally said weakly, knowing even as he said the words that they would accomplish neither of his aims.

Ben’s spine grew rigid as he sat straighter in his chair, and his voice also hardened as he said, “By all means, enlighten the rest of us with your observation, Adam.”

Adam exhaled slowly to give himself time to find the words that would enable him to keep his head attached to his shoulders. “I merely made a calculated correlation between the preferred color choices of ladies we Cartwright men have loved . . . and the potential for a lasting relationship. The percentages are not high for those wearing blue. That’s all.” He spread his palms and earnestly prayed it would be “all” that was said on the subject.

It wasn’t, of course. Little Joe spoke first, but no blame attached to him, since all he uttered was a baffled, “Huh?” And who could blame the kid when his oldest brother’s entire intent had been to obfuscate.

Hoss, having started this whole thing, was another matter altogether, as he jumped in with what he surely felt was a required explanation of words Adam intended to be inexplicable. “What older brother means, little brother,” Hoss said, ignoring older brother’s warning shake of the head, “is that no good comes of it when Cartwright men take up with women what wear blue.”

“That’s poppycock,” Little Joe said.

“It certainly is,” Ben agreed with a scowl toward his eldest. “Is this what comes of a college education, Adam?”

“Of course not! I think this ranch has already seen what comes of a college education, Pa!” It was only later—much later—that Adam realized his desire to defend his alma mater and all he’d learned there had cost him his one chance to clear things up in a less damaging way than Hoss’s continued explanation.

“It ain’t poppycock,” Hoss insisted, right on the heels of his older brother’s interruption. “Think back on all the girls you’ve loved and lost, little brother. Didn’t most of ‘em wear blue? And didn’t your ma and my ma, so Adam tells me? He ain’t sure about his, of course, havin’ never seen her, but he’s guessin’ she did, too, and, well, we all know what happened to them.” Hoss gulped in sudden realization that he might just have gone a step too far in sharing his older brother’s calculated correlation.

Adam, his head having fallen into the palm of his hand at the first mention of the mothers, groaned. Only Hoss could have had such an innocent heart that he wouldn’t foresee the likely reaction to what he’d just blurted out for the entire Cartwright world—most importantly, Pa—to hear. That reaction wasn’t long in coming.

“Enough!” Ben’s bellow brought the room to ominous silence, but the low-toned growl that followed carried even more portent. “How dare you?”

“Sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean . . .”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Hoss.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Hoss cowered back in his chair and wisely, although belatedly, decided to keep his own council.

Assuming that Pa wasn’t talking to Little Joe, either, Adam reluctantly raised his head and faced his father. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to their sacred memory, Pa,” he began.

“I said, ‘Enough!’” Ben shouted. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, young man.”

Adam started to open his mouth, to inquire why he’d been asked a question if Pa didn’t want to hear an answer, but being more circumspect with his words than his innocent-hearted brother, he managed to keep them in the back of his throat.

“All I want from you, young man, and from you,” Ben said, glancing from his eldest to his middle son, “is your promise that you will stop filling your young brother’s ears with this superstitious nonsense!”

“Of course,” Adam promised quickly, praying he could actually get off that easily. Hoss, still cowering, quickly bobbed his head as he kept his lips pursed tight together, and with the blessing that often befalls the innocent of heart, his silence went unnoticed by his father. As for Adam, the only person’s ears he intended to fill belonged to that innocent blunderer who had brought the wrath of Ben Cartwright down upon them.

Ben, face still fuming with said wrath, rose from his chair. “I would also advise you to stay well away from me for the rest of the evening,” he said. Seeing the troubled look in his youngest’s eyes, he softened his voice. “That does not refer to you, of course, Joseph.” He laid a hand on the young man’s slender shoulder. “Don’t give a thought to this nonsense, son,” he said. “You go right ahead and give Sara your gift, topped with the prettiest blue bow you can tie. I assure you, nothing but happiness will ensue.” With a final pat on the shoulder of his youngest son and a final glare at his oldest, he rounded the table and headed up the stairs.

“Thanks a lot, brothers,” Little Joe grunted, tossing his napkin beside his barely touched plate and following in his father’s wake.

Seeing Hoss start to rise up also, Adam grabbed his arm with a restraining hand. “Not now,” he whispered, adding once Little Joe was out of earshot, “You’ve done quite enough for now.”

*****

Clad in his warm, quilted robe, Adam sat at his angled architectural table, finessing the lines of the drawing atop it. He had no current project, but often sat here at night, working on some idealized structure he would probably never build, but taking joy and relaxation from the creative process. It wasn’t working tonight, and when the tap sounded on his door, he knew why. He’d been watching, waiting for that very sound, not sure whether it would come from Little Joe, here to demand explanation, or from his father, here to ream him out more thoroughly over what had transpired at the dinner table.

Then he shook his head. The very fact of a knock negated the possibility that it was Little Joe; the kid always blared straight in when he had something to say. Pa, then. As he called, “Come in,” he braced himself, watching the door slowly open, waiting for a lambasting that never came. Instead, his brother Hoss walked in, both steps and facial expression tentative.

“Saw the light and figured you was still up,” Hoss said. “Need to talk some, if’n it’s okay.”

“Always okay for you, big fella,” Adam said.

Hoss grinned. “Long as I ain’t Pa, huh?”

“Or Joe,” Adam added with a soft chuckle, “although I think I could handle him.”

“I talked to him,” Hoss said.

“In spite of what Pa said?” Adam shook his head in amazement. “You’re a braver man than I am.”

“Just wanted to make sure the boy was okay,” Hoss said. “He is, but I can tell it’s worryin’ him some, that Blue Curse thing . . . and it worries me, too, more than some.”

“Sorry, buddy. Never meant to worry you. Should have kept my observations to myself, I suppose.”

“No, no,” Hoss said as he came to perch on his brother’s bed. “I needed to know. Joe needed to know. Pa . . . not so much.” He winced with chagrin.

Adam pulled his chair around to face his brother. “Pa’s right, you know. It is superstitious, and I normally don’t hold with that sort of thing. I just found it hard to escape the correlation, with there being so many instances of it. Still, I could be wrong.”

“Ain’t often,” Hoss said loyally. “You’re the smartest fella I know, Adam.”

“Well, thank you.” Straightening up, Adam asked, “So, what can I do to help . . . either you or Joe?”

“I’m gonna help Joe,” Hoss said decisively. “All I need from you’s to keep your mouth shut, so’s I can.”

Suddenly wary, Adam asked, “What are you up to, big fella?”

“I’m gonna get little brother some scarlet ribbons.” The rigid set of the big man’s chin declared unalterable determination. It was a look that rarely sat on Hoss Cartwright’s face, but on the rare occasions it did, it was absolutely and irreparably immovable.

“Great idea,” Adam said. “Only one problem. Joe’s already looked everywhere from here to Genoa without success, and in this instance, I think we could count on his having been thorough.”

“I know that,” Hoss said, his attitude that of a parent speaking patiently to a young child. “Got a whole list of where he’s been. That’s why I got to go beyond Genoa to get ‘em. Andy ain’t sung over to California none yet, so maybe the gals there ain’t raided every ribbon shop in the state.”

Adam’s jaw dropped at what Hoss was proposing. “Hoss, it’s only three days to Christmas Eve. You’d have to ride day and night—and that’s if you find what you want in Placerville. Much beyond that, and the trip’s pointless.”

“I know all that,” Hoss said, chin jutting out with true Cartwright stubbornness, “but I gotta do it, Adam . . . for Joe. He loves Sara . . . and I just know she’s meant to be part of this family, and I can’t let that Blue Curse get her and make her just ride off into the sunset or”—he gulped—“worse.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Adam patted the air with restraining palms. “Maybe we need to rethink this Blue Curse business. Maybe it doesn’t exist, after all.”

Mouth pursed, Hoss shook his head. “Can’t take the chance. I gotta go, and I’m goin’. Just figured someone oughta know what I was up to, if’n I get delayed some, and, well, I couldn’t very well tell Pa, could I now?”

“Uh . . . no.” The horror of that notion sent a shiver up Adam’s spine.

“All right, then,” Hoss said. “I’m gonna leave right away, ride through the night. Now, what I need you to do is keep Pa and Little Joe from figurin’ out what I’m up to.”

“Oh, you can count on that!”

Hoss grinned. “Yeah, I figured, and if you can, big brother, get them blue ribbons away from little brother and hide ‘em somewhere the sun don’t shine. Fireplace sounds about right.”

“That might be harder,” Adam said after exhaling a slow stream of air.

“Yeah, but you’re the smart one, remember?” Hoss laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he stood, and to Adam it felt like an act of commissioning. “And if I am a mite late,” Hoss said, extending the commission, “try to make little brother wait ‘til I’m back before he gives her that gift.”

“Do my best,” Adam promised. As Hoss clapped his shoulder and left the room, he stared at his desk and wondered if even the fanciful project he was currently contemplating could keep his mind occupied and off whatever explanation he would have to make when the rest of the family arose the next morning.

*****

Dressed in his party clothes, Adam stood in the yard and stared at the snow-capped mountains with a grim expression. Christmas Eve had come, and the guests would soon be arriving, and there was still no sign of Hoss. The fresh snowfall on the mountains, beautiful as it was, might well be the reason. Quite a storm going on up there, and if Hoss hadn’t gotten through before it hit, he might very well not make it.

“Think he’s okay?” Little Joe, coming up behind his older brother, asked anxiously.

Adam turned and aimed toward him an encouraging smile. “Of course, he’s okay. Hoss knows how to take shelter in a storm, little buddy, even if it caught him unawares.”

“Still don’t see why he had to go clean to California for that last-minute shopping you said he had to do.”

Adam was just grateful that both his little brother and his father had accepted that explanation for Hoss’s precipitate departure. Still not feeling free to reveal the truth, he only shrugged now. “Just said it was for something special, and I’ve learned not to inquire too closely when it comes to Christmas gifts.” He laughed dissuasively. “After all, the surprise I spoil might be my own.”

Still not dreaming that the surprise was actually to be for him, Little Joe chuckled. “You got a point there, brother.” Then he sobered. “Still . . . I hate for him not to be here when I ask Sara that certain question. You think I ought to wait?”

“Wait as long as you can,” Adam advised, “but, no, I don’t think you should change your plans. Hoss wouldn’t want you to.” Actually, Hoss might well have wanted those plans changed, but then, he didn’t know that Adam had managed to fulfill his commission of filching a set of blue ribbons by offering to hold the gift until Joe was ready to make his presentation, on the pretext that Sara might discover it if it were on Joe’s person or under the tree. If Hoss didn’t make it back in time, and it was looking as though he might not, there’d be explanations to make later, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. And, at least, Sara would have been spared any potential danger from the curse, if it did exist.

The first buggy from town arrived, and the Cartwright brothers, along with several ranch hands, joined forces to welcome their guests and assist in parking the vehicles efficiently and stabling the animals with a Christmas apple presented to each horse who’d braved the frosty air that starry night. Little Joe’s assistance, all too typically, lasted only until Sara LeAnne arrived with her family. Then the younger Cartwright decided that his attention was best directed toward guests inside the house, and Adam conceded with only a slight skew of his smile to indicate that he saw through his little brother’s professed concern for others. It was, after all, a special night. Not, he admitted with another anxious glance toward the snowy peaks to the west, as special as it would be if Hoss made it back in time, for reasons that had nothing to do with scarlet ribbons.

The dancing began, and the house soon rang with merry laughter and silvery chatter, despite everyone’s expressed concern for the missing Cartwright. An hour slipped by and then two, and finally Little Joe left Sara for a minute and sidled up to his oldest brother. “Guess he ain’t gonna make it,” he said. “You might as well fetch out that special box from wherever you got it hid.”

“I’ll get it,” Adam said, as disappointed as Little Joe at the absence of their big-hearted brother. Someday he’d tell Joe what Hoss had tried to do, but he wouldn’t spoil the magic of this moment for the happy couple and only hoped the absence of that blue bow wouldn’t send Joe into a moment-spoiling fit of temper, either.

As Adam headed for Pa’s desk, where he’d secreted the box in the bottom drawer, all eyes turned toward the front door, and shouts of happy greetings went up as a big man, looking even larger in his huge, woolly coat, came in with a blast of shivery air. “Howdy, folks! Merry Christmas!” Hoss said, bracing himself as his little brother slammed into him with a bear hug almost worthy of Hoss himself. “Let me breathe, Shortshanks,” he said. Then grabbing the younger boy under one arm, he scrubbed the top of Joe’s head with his knuckles. “You didn’t think I’d miss your big night, did you, little brother?”

“Not unless you had to, you big lug,” Little Joe said, “but you sure cut it close.”

“Give me a minute with Adam before you start, okay?”

Little Joe stepped back, cocking his head quizzically as he stared up into Hoss’s face. “Well . . . sure,” he said. “That who your special present is for?”

Hoss grinned. “Not exactly, but I need a word with him.” He moved past Little Joe and his father, breaking short his welcoming embrace, and all the guests who wanted to express how glad they were he’d made it home safely. He drew Adam into their father’s study alcove. “You know where he’s got it hid out?” he asked in a dramatic whisper.

“I have it hid out . . . right here, as a matter of fact.” Adam opened the drawer and drew out the white box.

Hoss gave him an appreciative nod when he saw not a sign of any dangerous blue ribbons. “Good man.” Then, while Adam helped him shield the process from the others in the room, he drew a pair of scarlet ones from his pocket, and Adam, with his more adept fingers, tied up the package with a big, bright bow.

Little Joe’s mouth gaped open when he saw the package Adam stealthily handed him. “Where? How?” he blathered.

“Hoss,” Adam said, knowing the single word was all the explanation needed.

“He’s crazy,” Little Joe muttered.

“Umm-hmm.” Adam grinned. “No more putting it off, little brother; the time has come.”

“I wasn’t . . .” Then, realizing he was being teased, Little Joe grinned back, took the package firmly in hand and headed toward Sara. Drawing her off to one side of the room, he said, “A little present for you, sweetheart.”

Sara squealed with delight. “Scarlet ribbons! Where on earth did you find them? I’ve wanted some so much, but all the stores in town are sold out.”

“Don’t I know it!” Little Joe said. Angling his head toward his big brother, he said, “Hoss brought ‘em.” Figuring any further explanation could wait, he hinted, “But the ribbons are just the decoration; the real present’s inside. Hope you like it.”

“Of course, I will!” she declared as she tore the paper aside. She laughed when she opened the first box, only to find another wrapped box inside it, and her laughter only grew brighter as she opened box after box.

Then, as she was lifting the lid of the final one, Little Joe went down on one knee, and when he heard her gasp of surprise, he asked plainly, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Sara? I love you, darlin’, and I want you by my side for all the Christmases to come.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, her eyes shining into his.

The dancing had stopped while all the guests watched the tableau unfold, and they broke into applause at her answer. Then the happy couple were engulfed by hearty congratulations, none heartier than that given by the big man still clad in his woolly coat. “Hope you like the ribbons,” Hoss said. “They’s my contribution to a happy marriage.”

“I love them!” Sara cried.

“Little brother here was gonna saddle you with blue ones,” Hoss said with a teasing grin, “but I saved you from that, and you gotta promise me you ain’t never gonna wear that color, little lady.”

“Oh, I never do,” Sara said. Leaning forward as if to convey a great secret, she whispered in his ear. “You see, blue’s kind of an unlucky color in our family, so we outlawed it long ago.”

“I knew you was meant to be a Cartwright,” Hoss said, as his big laugh filled the room.

The End