Summary:   The 2013 Christmas challenge was to write a story that reflects on your favorite Christmas Carol. One of my favorites is White Christmas.

Word Count: 1,154  Rated: K

                                                         White Christmas

The Ponderosa Ranch

December 1874

Ben Cartwright watched his youngest, and only son that was left at home, glaring at the yard stretched out before him. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what could be troubling Joe. When the young man didn’t acknowledge his presence, he went over and claimed the empty chair and sat a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Glancing at the mug, then at his father, Joe nodded his head. “Thanks, Pa.” and turned his attention back to the space in front of him.

Ben was always amazed at all the ways this boy of his had and hadn’t changed over the years. Oh, the outward sign of the passing of time was there. His once brown curls were now streaked with gray; his shoulders and chest had filled out and were now broad with well-defined muscles. He had definitely matured over the years, in more than one way. When Adam left the ranch, his youngest son stepped up and took over the responsibilities of his oldest brother. He couldn’t fill Adam’s shoes; not because he wasn’t as good as Adam, but because he was his own man. When they had lost Hoss, Joe took hold of the reins and ran The Ponderosa when Ben was unable to. Now they were partners. Sure Joe humored Ben by pretending his word was the only one that mattered, but they both knew that the father trusted the son to make decisions without having to discuss them with him. But he was also still Little Joe, just as stubborn and hot-headed as he was at seventeen. He still held his problems close, wanting to work them out on his own and not talking until he was good and ready; or knee deep in trouble. Joe had been quiet for the past week; always skirting around the subject whenever Ben tried to find out what was wrong.

Shaking his head at Joe’s continued silence; Ben finally decided to take the bull by the horns. “Alright Joseph, what’s troubling you?”

“Noth. . .” Joe stopped mid-word when he saw his father’s raised eyebrow. He never realized until that very moment how much that facial expression was so like Adam’s. Lord, I miss him. “This,” he finally answered, sweeping his arm out, encompassing the expanse of the yard.

“The yard? What did it do to you?”

“It’s brown!”

“Yes, it is.” His brows were now furrowed together in confusion. “And that’s a problem, because. . . ?”

Joe turned his glare on his father. “Because it’s brown. Because it’s December. Because it’s almost Christmas. Because it’s not WHITE!” He crossed his arms over his chest and went back to glaring at the brown yard.

“I see.” And he did. Joe was right. It was only days until Christmas and The Ponderosa was as void of snow as it was in October. “That’s the only thing that’s bothering you?”

Suddenly all the bluster was gone, his shoulders sagged, and Joe lowered his head. For all of his 31 years, he could still look like a lost little boy. “I miss them,” he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Ben didn’t have to ask who “them” were, he knew beyond a doubt. “So do I.”

Looking up at the blue, cloudless sky, Joe sighed. “I can remember the Christmas’s when we were still together. The snow ball fights. We never knew who would be the first victim, but it was inevitable it would end up in an all-out war, each of us finding some sort of cover and an endless supply of ammunition.”

Ben chuckled, also remembering the snow wars that had occurred over the years. “It took me awhile, but I finally learned to stay inside and watch with Hop Sing from the kitchen window, unless I wanted to be the unwilling recipient of an errant missile.”

“Ha! Nine out of ten times, you and Hop Sing would sneak out and gang up on us.” Joe’s attention seemed to be focused on his coffee mug as he slowly turned it in circles on the table, but truth be known, his mind was miles away, or more accurately, years away. “When I was little, I would try my hardest to stay awake and listen for Santa. I don’t understand how, but Adam and Hoss knew. There were times when I would hear sleigh bells and then thumping on the roof.” Joe laughed softly at the fond memory. “Not wanting to get caught awake by Santa, I would pull the covers over my head and pretend I was sound asleep. Even though I always thought I was too excited to sleep a wink, I would eventually doze off.

“I remember. . . You have no idea how much they enjoyed doing that for you—keeping the belief of Santa alive; even though I feared Hoss would come through the ceiling as he clomped around up there. They were as excited as you were for morning to come. Not for the same reason of course. They couldn’t wait to watch the expression on your face when you would come bounding down the stairs to see what Santa left. What I always enjoyed was not the way you were with the presents you received, but the delight you took in watching your brothers and myself open our presents. You have always loved giving as much as receiving.”

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve his shirt, Joe smiled at the memories. “If only. . .”

Ben reached over and laid his hand on top of Joe’s. “I know Son. I know.”

~~~~

Joe yawned as he came down the stairs on Christmas morning. Running a hand through already tousled, hair, he stood in front of the tree and smiled to see that the candles had already been lit. “Hop Sing must have done it.”

Looking towards the table he was surprised not only at the absence of steaming plates of food, but also at his father’s vacant chair. A soft sound brought his attention back to the tree. He could have sworn he had heard the gentle tinkle of a bell. Another melodious sound drew his eyes to the very top where an angel was perched. A loving smile graced his lips at the sight. “Merry Christmas, Mama. Merry Christmas, Adam. Merry Christmas, Hoss.”

Entering the kitchen, Joe was confused to see it empty. Walking back out scratching his head, he took another look around. “Pa! Hop Sing!” Silence was his only answer.

Joe opened the front door and took a step out. Before anything could register, two snow balls hit him square in the chest.

“Merry Christmas, Joseph!”

Merry Chris’mas, Li’le Joe!”

The smile on Joe’s face outshone not only the candle lighting the tree in the greatroom, but also the sun that was shining in the sky.

“It’s WHITE! It’s a white Christmas after all.”

The End