Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 2 *

Summary:  Remembrance of Christmas Past

Rating:  G   7,950 words

Note:  This story was written for the Bonanza Brand 2020 Advent Calendar, originated in the Forums.

The Remarkable Tin Soldier

*****

Chapter One – 1861

“Joe!  Hey, Little Joe!  Pa and Adam are waitin’ in the surrey.  You sure you don’t want to come?”

Nineteen-year-old Little Joe Cartwright was sitting on his bed, his head resting on his pillow and his legs stretched out before him.  He was sure he didn’t want to come.  In fact, the last thing he wanted to do tonight was go out into the cold.  He’d been sick for a week and felt like someone had taken a hammer to his head – well, to most of him really.  He’d promised Emmy Lou Fletcher about a month before that he’d meet her at the Christmas dance on the 23^rd and he knew she was going to be disappointed when he didn’t show.  He knew as well that she wouldn’t have much fun with him in the mood he was in.

Which was a bad one.

His brother’s beefy face appeared in the open door.  “Joe?”

“I told you, Hoss, go on without me.”

“You sure?  You’re gonna be left all alone.”

Hop Sing had gone to visit one of his myriad cousins and most of the hands had gone home for the holidays.  There was a skeleton crew left, but only one or two of the older men were anywhere near the house.

“It’s not like you’re going to be gone for a month,” Joe snapped.  “I think I can look out for myself for one night.”

“Okay, sour-puss.  You just lay there and stew in your own juices.”  His big brother pointed a finger at him.  “And just in case you decide you want any other juices, don’t you go eatin’ all that Christmas roast beef before it’s Christmas!”

Joe’s stomach did a flip.  “You don’t have to worry about that.”

His brother frowned.  “You sure you’re okay?”

He started to snap again, but thought better of it.  “It’s just this dang cold, Hoss.  I feel like I’ve been put through Hop Sing’s wringer and hung out to dry.”  Joe pulled his covers up and turned over so his face was to the window.  “You go and have a good time.  Give my apologies to Emmy Lou.”

“Does Pa know you’re this sick?”

“No!”  Joe rolled back over.  “And you better not tell him!  He’ll cancel his plans and you know how he’s been looking forward to tonight.”

Hoss made a ‘mm-mm’ sound.  “That Widow Begg sure is a good lookin’ gal!”

Catherine Begg was a little younger than Pa.  She’d been widowed around the age of forty and come to Virginia City a year or so later to live with a maiden aunt.  She had hair the same chestnut color as his, only with silver in it, and a waist a man could circle with two hands.  Kate, as she liked to be called, was beautiful and intelligent and pa was smitten with her.  Most of the time that didn’t bother him at all.

For some reason, tonight it did.

“Joe?”

“Yeah, she sure is.”

“Hoss?  Are you coming?”

It was brother Adam calling from downstairs.

“You better go,” Joe said.

“Okay.  If you’re sure –”

“I’m sure.  Get going you big galoot!”

“On my way, Adam!” Hoss called back.  “Now, you take care, little brother.  Don’t you go takin’ no chances!”

“Like what?  Getting out of bed?  Or maybe going downstairs and fixing myself a sandwich?”  Joe pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it.  “Get out of here!”

Hoss laughed all the way to the buggy.

Within a minute, Joe regretted throwing the pillow.  He groaned as he eased his way off the bed and went to fetch it.  Doc Martin had been out twice to check on him and said he had a mild case of the ‘ague’, whatever that was.  It wasn’t influenza or a cold exactly,  and apparently wasn’t infectious since no one else had come down with it.  Still, he’d chosen to stay away from pretty much everyone and spent most of the last seven days in his room.

Matter of fact, he was just plain sick of this room and there wasn’t any reason to stay in it now that everyone else was gone.

He’d been headed back to bed.  Joe tossed the pillow on it instead and reached for his robe.  One thing he couldn’t seem to get was warm enough, so stoking the fire in the big hearth downstairs and sitting beside it sure sounded like a good idea.  Maybe he’d even sleep down there since no one would know.

Since Pa wouldn’t know.

Joe’s footsteps echoed as he crossed the great room and headed for the wood-box.  The Ponderosa was a big house and never seemed bigger than when everyone was away.  He hadn’t realized it until one day when he and Adam were talking, but it seemed he was hardly ever alone.  Since he was only nineteen, one of his brothers or his pa were most always with him and, even when they weren’t, he knew they were only a holler away.  From the time he’d been born he’d had company.  He liked it most of the time, though there were those moments when he craved a little space.  Joe’s gaze traveled from the dining room to the hearth, to the stair and Pa’s office, past the front door, and then back to the hearth.  So you’d think he’d be happy right now.  It was just him, in the house, alone, with no brothers to tease him about being the youngest or pa to tell him what to do.  He was in charge.

And he was miserable.

Joe sniffed and ran a finger under his nose.  It was because he was sick.  That was it.  Not because he was…lonely.

He’d paused with his hand on the wood-box.  He opened it now and took out a couple of logs and fed them to the fire.  As they crackled and popped, he went to his father’s office and pulled out one of the books he’d been reading before he got sick.  It was on Alexander the Great.  With it in hand, he returned to the area of the hearth and sat down.  The tall case clock struck five as he did.  The dance was at eight, so Pa and his brothers would be pushing it to get there by the time it started.  He knew Pa’d had second thoughts about leaving him home alone.  He’d heard him and Adam arguing.  Older brother won out in the end and he was glad he did.  He needed time alone with his own thoughts.

And the wind howling outside the windows.

And the owls hooting in the trees.

And the ticking of the clock.

Tick.  Tick.

Tick.

Ten minutes later Joe put his book down, jumped to his feet, and went to the front door.  He opened it and looked out.  In the time his family had been gone, dark clouds had moved in and the temperature had dropped.  It was December 23^rd, the night before the night before Christmas, and they were lucky the roads to town were even open.  A sudden fear snaked through him.  What if a great big old storm moved in and Pa and Adam and Hoss were trapped in Virginia City and couldn’t get back?  Maybe, ever?  What would he do if he was left here – alone – for months?

“One thing for sure,” Joe groused as he turned back into the house, “I’d stop that damn clock.”

Tick.

Tick.  Tick.

Joe tried reading again but couldn’t keep his mind on the story.  He tried playing a game of checkers – against himself – but he couldn’t manage to lose.  He wandered into his father’s office and pulled out one of the account books and started adding up columns of figures, but when he sneezed and blurred the ink, he decided the effort wasn’t worth the lecture he’d get for being up and out of bed.  After that he found himself in the kitchen.  He’d hoped to while away some time rustling up grub.  Of course, Pa had his supper laid out on the table with a note telling him not to forget to bank the fire and lock the door.  He did have to heat up the soup  That took ten minutes, and then he didn’t have anything to do again.

It was as he was staring at the note, written in his pa’s strong hand, that Joe remembered something his father had mentioned a few days back.  He left the kitchen and returned to the office.  Sitting in Pa’s chair again, he stared at the portrait of his mother the older man kept on the desk.  It had been there for as long as he could remember.  Pa’d moved it around the room a few times, but it always came back to rest on the desk like it belonged there.

Like Mama told Pa she belonged there!

Joe smiled as he picked up the silver frame, but sobered quickly.  His mama hadn’t been all that much older than he was now when she died.  Ten years at most.  She’d had a hard life before coming to Nevada and it showed in her eyes.  Her smile didn’t quite reach them.  Pa told him she’d been happy here and that he’d been the biggest part of her happiness.  He could barely remember her.  She had certain smells – lavender and lilac, and vanilla, he thought.  And he could remember the sound of her moving in and out of the room; of the stiff fabric of her skirts rustling like leaves in a winter wind.  She liked flowers or, at least, he thought she did.  He remembered all the rooms of the house being full of them.  It had been different then, like all the sharp angles had been softer; rounder somehow.  Pa’d grown hard and sharp when Mama left them.

He remembered that too.

Joe looked to both sides, like he expected someone to have popped out of the woodwork, and then he gave her portrait a kiss.

“I love you, Mama,” he said as he sat it down.

Then he headed for the stairs.

The thing he’d remembered was in his father’s room.  Joe felt kind of funny going in there without permission, but then the older man would never know.  They’d been talking the other day when his father told him he had a ‘secret’ in his closet.  When he’d asked what it was Pa’d grown quiet, and then, with a smile, admitted he’d kept Mama’s jewelry casket.  Pa said there were other things in there besides jewelry that had meant a lot to his mama.  ‘Momento mori’, he called them.  He said they would be his when he got married.  He’d accepted that then, but later he got to thinking about it.  Why couldn’t he have them now?  Why did he have to wait until he had a wife?

What if he never got married?

He was outside the door to his father’s room now.  Joe screwed up his face and then laughed at his hesitation to open the door.  What was it that stopped him?  If he put everything back as it was, Pa would never know he’d gone in.  He supposed it had to do with the fact that he knew – as did his older brothers – that the older man had a direct line to the man upstairs and nothing got past him.

Still, it was an itch that had to be scratched.

Joe tripped the latch and went in.

The room was dark and ominously quiet.  He’d brought matches with him.  The teenager lit the lamp on his father’s bureau and then carried it with him over to the closet.  When he opened the door, Joe breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of leather and Bay Rum that was so much Ben Cartwright.  He’d known that smell since he’d been a kid and it had always meant safety and security.  His pa had two closets.  This was the one he kept his good clothes in.  He figured his mama’s casket would be in this one and not in the one with Pa’s work clothes.  It kind of surprised him at how many things the closet contained, including a few remnants of his childhood.  Joe laughed as he pulled out an old skin horse on rockers.  It was his first ‘mount’.  He named the black skin-horse after his dark-haired brother, Adam, but couldn’t pronounce it, so he called him ‘Dam’ instead.  Dam had been stabled in front of a stack of boxes.  Most were fairly small and made of cardboard or wood, but there was one that stood out as different.  It was at least fifteen inches long and almost a foot wide and was made of metal.  Joe picked it up and went to the window where he could see it better.  At first the teenager thought it was black and gold, but it wasn’t.  The inner panels were a rich cobalt-blue enamel, decorated with gilt flowers.  The edges of the box were gilt-ormolu like the mirrors at the International Hotel.  It shone softly in the moonlight.  Joe placed his hand reverently on the lid, thinking of the other hands that had touched it.  Then he ran a finger along the front.  He stopped when he encountered a key hole.

Dang it!  He hadn’t considered that it might be locked!

“Mama,” Joe breathed. “What do I do now?”

Almost immediately an idea formed in his mind.  The teenager laughed and then turned the casket upside-down.  The key was fastened underneath.

Taking it in hand, Joe placed the key in the lock and then hesitated.

“Is it okay, Mama?” he asked.

The wind outside seemed to rise in reply.

‘Oui, mon petit’.

Joe took the casket and sat it on the floor before opening it.  Dozens of sparking eyes winked at him from its darkened interior when he did – diamond white, silver and gold.  He lifted the strands of pearls and other jewels out to examine them, and was awed by their beauty and by the love of the man who had bought them for his New Orleans bride.  Joe laid each aside after gazing at it and continued to dig.  Pa said there should be other things here.  Ones that held special meaning for his mother.  Other than the jewels, he’d found some dried roses, but that was it.  A few minutes later, he leaned back and let out a disappointed sigh.

This time it wasn’t the wind that gave Joe his answer, but an argent moonbeam falling through the window.

It struck the box in such a way that he noticed an irregularity.  Joe picked the box up and turned it so it was fully illuminated.  Yep!  It was deeper on the outside than the inside.  He poked around the interior with a finger and unexpectedly tripped a hidden latch.  A second later the false bottom was out and he’d found the treasure he was seeking.  Most of the items were the kind of thing a doting mother would treasure.  There were several locks of curly blond baby hair bound in ribbons, a small pair of – Lord help him! – lace booties, and a couple of teeth!  He found at least a dozen notes.  Most of them were from Hoss but a few had obviously been scrawled by a southpaw.  One thing that really struck him was a portrait contained in a locket of his mother as a child.  He knew it was her because it looked like him as a girl.

Joe thought the casket was empty when he realized there was one last item.  He’d thought he was done since the bottom was a dull gray.  It puzzled him more than all the others.  It was a cardboard container that held eleven brightly painted tin soldiers.  One was missing.  The narrow box bore the remnants of paper wrapping and contained a card.  He recognized the handwriting as his mother’s.

‘For mon petit Joseph.  To celebrate his fifth Christmas.  Mama.’

Joe sat there, staring at the card; his heart hammering in his chest.  His mother had died the spring before he turned five.

What was this?

Ben Cartwright blew in the door of his home along with the snow.  A storm had come in overnight that threatened to keep them from reaching the ranch.  He’d recognized its advent when he rose to go to the water closet around three in the morning and had roused his sons.  They set out immediately.  There was no way of knowing how ferocious – or tenacious – a late December storm might prove, and he was bound and determined he would not leave his sick son home alone to fend for himself  – or to celebrate Christmas by himself!  Joseph might make noise about wanting to be left alone, but that’s was all it was – noise.  Like his late mother his youngest craved interaction with his family and feared, when he was away from them, that something terrible would happen.

“Joe’s not asleep in front of the fire?” Adam asked as he joined him.

It was early morning – so early he doubted his under-the-weather boy was up yet.  “He must be in his room.”

“He was here,” his eldest said as he picked up a book that lay on the settee.  “Alexander the Great, eh?  Trying to bolster his courage perhaps?”

“How come you’re always pickin’ on Joe, Adam?” Hoss asked as he too entered.

“He’s the youngest.  What else am I supposed to do?”

Hoss chuckled.  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“You want me to go wake Joe up, Pa?” Adam asked.

“No, you two go get some breakfast,” he replied as he removed his coat.  “I’ll go up and let Joe know we’re home.”

A half hour later Ben headed up the stairs.  He’d hung up his coat and hat and checked the mail they’d brought with them before doing so.  By the time he left the great room his two oldest were sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee and eating pancakes.  He was hungry too, but decided he’d wait and eat with Joe when he came down.  Ben was looking forward to seeing his youngest.  He knew the night would not have been easy on the boy and was worried too that his son’s illness might have worsened.  It surprised the rancher a bit to find the door to the teenager’s room standing wide open, but then he realized it might have made Joe feel less alone.  Ben stepped inside with a ‘good morning’ greeting on his lips, only to have it die away when his gaze fell on an empty bed.

“Joseph?” he called.  “Little Joe?”

For a moment he remained where he was, simply staring.  Then he turned on his heel and headed for the stair.  As he did, Ben saw something out of the corner of his eye.  At first it didn’t register, but then it stopped him in his tracks.

The door to his room was open as well.

Ben scratched his head as he moved across the hall.  He paused outside the room and then, cautiously, stepped through.  It took him a moment to notice that his closet door was open, and then he saw the long line of items leading away from it – a line that ended near the window with his late wife’s elegant ormolu and enamel jewelry casket.  Next to the casket lay his son.  Joe must have pulled the cover off of the bed at some point and wrapped up in it.  It was twisted about his slender frame leaving one foot, his curly head, and both hands exposed.  For a moment, he felt angry.  The boy knew better than to intrude upon his privacy!  But then, as he noted the object in his son’s left hand, Ben’s anger evaporated.  The sight of it took him back some fifteen years, to the spring of forty-six.  He and his wife had argued that day.  Marie packed her bags – not for the first time – and told him she was going back to New Orleans to live with her mother.  He hadn’t taken her seriously until she packed up Joseph as well and headed for the door.

Ben’s eyes returned to the tin soldier his son clutched.

Little did he or she know how important her choice of a Christmas gift would turn out to be.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Chapter two – 1846

“Marie!  Come back here this instant!”

A stamped foot and a small huffing noise told Ben he was about to lose the battle.

“I warned you,” his wife said, her tone as icy as the wintry world outside.  “One more time, I said.  One more time and I would go.  And if I am anything, I am a woman of my word!”

She was a number of other things too, but he didn’t think it prudent to mention any of them at the moment.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.  I really have no idea what I’m supposed to have – ”

“Précisément!”  Marie’s elegantly shoed foot stamped the hard wood floor again.  “That is the problem! You do not appreciate me, so I shall go somewhere where I am appreciated!’

“And where is that?”

She sputtered for a moment.  “Home!  I will take Joseph and go back to my Maman!”

Marie and her mother had a rocky, if not tempestuous relationship.  In the five years they’d been married, he’d only heard his wife mention the elegant New Orleans’ woman a few times – and it was usually at moments like this when she’d decided he didn’t treat her right.

Ben’s gaze dropped to the small boy who clung to his mama’s hand.  Joseph looked like a jolly boat caught in a gale.

“Marie…darling…I’m sure we can sort this out.”

“Non!  I am done!”

“Marie….”

“There is always something other than me and your son!  An emergency at the timber camp.  A cattle stampede!  Men that must be instructed.  Supplies that have to be laid in today.  Fences fixed!  Line shacks repaired!”  Tears streamed down her cheeks, which were high with color.  “You are gone for days – weeks! – at a time and when you come home, do you talk to me or play with your son?  Non!  You fall asleep!”

He winced at the accuracy of her accusations.  “My love, you have to understand.  We have a large spread.  There are needs – ”

“We?  It is not ‘we’, but you!  And what about my needs?”  Marie clutched Joseph’s hand more tightly.  Her voice choked.  “What about your…son’s?  I doubt Petit Joseph even knows he has a papa!”

“I have a papa, Maman,” Little Joe said in his tiny voice.  He pointed.  “He’s right there.”

Ben hid his smile.

“Hush!” Marie snapped and then relented as the little boy’s lip began to tremble and a tear trailed down his cheek.  She picked him up and cooed in his ear.  “Hush, my angel.  Rest your head on my shoulder.  Mama is sorry she yelled.”

The two of them had their coats on and were standing by the door.  It was partially open.  A cold breeze wafted in, chilling him.

“Marie, please, close the door and come back into the room.  We need to talk.”

His wife shook her head, proving once again that she was nothing if not determined.  “Non.  I am going into the settlement.  Perhaps if I am not here, then you will notice me!”

“Where will you be staying?” he asked.  “At least tell me that.”

“I will send word back with William.”

William was one of their ranch hands.  The poor man had been pressed into service by his irate wife.  When he’d looked out the door and seen him waiting in the rig, the cowboy had looked like he’d rather have been anywhere else.

“Let me take you in.”

“Non.  If I am to be an independent women, let it begin now.”

His youngest son was looking at him through the fringe of curls that perpetually dangled on his forehead.  Joseph had his thumb in his mouth and was blinking, as if the need for sleep had begun to outweigh his need to understand this sudden war between his parents.

“Promise me you will stay put – wherever you end up,” Ben pleaded.  “This isn’t the time of year to begin a journey.”  It was early spring and, though the snows had passed, the melt-off was just beginning.  The road could prove treacherous.  “You don’t want to put the child in danger.”

It was hitting below the belt and he knew it.

His beautiful wife scowled.  “Since you have broken your promise to me, I see no reason why I should make one to you.”

Ben bit back a sigh.  She was in a rare mood.

“Please.”

“Pa, what’s goin’ on?  Where’re Ma and Little Joe goin’?”

They both turned at the sound of their middle son’s voice.  Hoss was nine, but he was the size of a robust twelve-year-old.  It was hard to remember that his appearance belied the child’s heart that beat within his breast.

“Mama is going to the settlement,” Marie announced before he could say anything.

Hoss’ gaze went to the window.  “Ain’t it a little late to head out?  It’s gonna be dark before you get there.”

Marie frowned.  “Nevertheless, I must go.”

“Can I go with you?”  Hoss turned to him.  “Can I Pa?  I can help keep Ma and Joe safe on the ride.”

Ben drew a breath and held it.  He hated to chance putting three members of his family at risk, but William would be going with them and the cowboy was completely trustworthy – as well as handy with a gun.  Hoss going along might temper Marie’s anger and convince her that she didn’t want to go if it meant leaving the boy behind.

“I think that is a wonderful idea, son,” Ben replied, putting his wife on the spot.  “What do you think, my love?”

She was torn, he could tell.  Marie loved Hoss.  She was his mother.  She was mother to Adam as well, but at sixteen, the boy had less need of her.  If she left, Inger’s boy would be devastated.

Ben felt a bit like a heel, but it felt good.

“I do not know…” she began.

“Maman, I want Hossy to come.  Can he come?” Little Joe asked, perking up.  “Him and me can have fun on the way.  It’s boring.”

“Sure we’ll have fun, punkin!” Hoss assured him.  “I’ll go get my coat!”

As his middle boy ran up the stairs, Marie glared at him.  “That was not fair.”

“I beg to differ, my dear,” he said with a smile.  “All is fair in love…and war.”

“Where are Marie and Little Joe going this late?” Adam asked as he walked up to the house, reins in hand.  He’d just ridden in, passing the rig containing the rest of the family on the way.

“Marie thinks I’m neglecting her,” Ben said with a sigh.

Adam tossed the reins over the rail and then looked at him.  “She’s right, you know.”

“What?”

“Pa, you….”  His son paused.  “I don’t think you see how wrapped up you get in things.”

“What kind of things?” he demanded.

“Like fixing that fence yesterday.”

“The cattle would have run away!”

“Pa, calm down.”  Adam moved to the porch table and took a seat on the edge, resting one long leg on the chair butted up against it.  “Yes, we have to keep the cattle fenced, but I could have handled it along with the men.  You didn’t need to be there.”

“Yes, I did.  You’re a….”

“What?”  His son frowned.  “A child?  Pa, I haven’t been a child for a long time.  Your dream made me into a man.”

There was a slight hesitation before the word ‘your’.

“I thought it was ‘our’ dream.”

His son nodded.  “It is, but Pa, you have to admit that this is the life you chose.  I just came along for the ride.”

He knew the boy had ambitions of his own – college for one.  He’d been saving, hoping to make that dream come true.

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

“Don’t be.  It’s not like you’ve had to hog-tie me to keep me here.  But you have to remember, Pa, Marie’s dream is different too.”

Ben frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he laughed.  “It’s amazing for a man who’s been married to three women, how little you understand the sex.”

“Oh?”  He smiled.  “Would you care to enlighten me with wisdom from your vast experience?”

The boy smiled too.  “Sure.  Marie gave up everything she knew to come out West with you – city life, markets, theaters and shows.  In a nutshell, civilization.  You’ve given her a beautiful home, Pa, with majestic trees and acres and acres of land, burgeoning with herds of cattle and dozens of horses, but to Marie, it’s empty.  Without you, that is.”

“She has Joseph,” he said defensively.  “And Hoss.”

“But she came for you.”  Adam rose and came to his side.  “You are her Ponderosa.”

The rancher considered it.  Then he nodded.  “How did you come to be so wise?”

Adam placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I had a good teacher.”

“I wonder if your step-mother would agree?”

The boy stepped back.  “She will when she’s had time to think about it – and after she’s spent a day taking care of those two on her own without Hop Sing!”

Marie stood, hands on hips, staring at the rig.  Glaring at it really, as if it could sense her mood.  The black-fringed surrey was on one side of the road while its left back wheel was on the other.  They’d been  two-thirds of the way to town when one of the horses spooked and darted to the side, taking the buggy wheel up and over a boulder.  The linchpin that held the wheel in place broke as the animals struggled to right themselves.  Then the tug stop snapped and the left-hand shaft split in two, freeing one of the horses who took off in a frenzy.

Leaving them stranded.

Night had fallen and it was growing cold.  Fortunately, she’d filled the rig with blankets and Hop Sing had insisted she bring along a kit that included food and a canteen of hot coffee.  She’d laughed as the little man handed them to her and reminded him that they were only traveling to the settlement.  He had pinned her with his black eyes and said, ‘A crafty rabbit has three burrows.’  She would have to remember to thank him.

Even if it meant sending a note.

“I’m ready, Ma’am.  Less you changed your mind.”

Marie turned to find her husband’s ranch hand, William, behind her.  He was a lovely man who had been with Ben for some years now, working first as a wrangler and then becoming manager of the horses.  William was older than her, but younger than Ben.  The cowboy was tall and lean as a street lamp.  His hair was the color of honey; his eyes and brows brown as freshly turned earth.  William was not a handsome man, but there was a goodness about him that made him handsome.

“I have not,” she replied.

William scratched his head.  “Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Cartwright, but I’m not real comfortable leaving you and the little ones out here by yourselves.”

They’d decided he would ride into the settlement and bring back a wagon.

She had decided.

“We’ll be fine.  It should take you no more than two hours.”  Marie smiled.  “I believe I am capable of taking care of Hoss and Joseph that long.”

“It’s not your capability I’m doubtin’, Ma’am.  It’s just, well, things can turn right quick out here.”

“There’s no way the three of us can ride one horse, William.”

He nodded.  “Still, you could take the babe and I could bring Hoss in later.”

Marie turned to look at the rig.  They’d propped up the left rear end so it served as shelter for her small sons.  Hoss had brought a bag along, containing books and toys, so he could entertain his brother.  The nine-year-old had lit the lantern they’d brought with them and was reading a story to his baby brother by its light.

Joseph’s small fingers clung to his brother’s coat.

“No.  Joseph would be too frightened,” she said.  “As would Hoss if I left him alone.  I would not have mon nounours believe I had abandoned him.”

The beautiful woman bit her lip as she realized what she’d said.  Wasn’t that exactly what she was thinking of doing?

William drew in a breath and let it out with words.  “All right, Mrs. Cartwright, we’ll do it your way.  But you be sure to stay well off the road and keep out of sight best you can.”

“It is cold,” she said.  “We will have to light a fire.”

“Do it in a pit and bank it with tall stones as best you can.  Oh, and take this.”  He lifted  his pistol from its holster, turned it, and offered it to her.  “Just in case.”

Marie eyed the huge heavy weapon.  “Thank you, but I have one of my own.”

William blinked.  “You do?”

She reached into her reticule and pulled out the snub-nosed, ivory-handled Philadelphia derringer she’d brought with her from New Orleans.

The cowboy snorted.  “Ma’am, out here we call that a gnat.”

“But it is a gnat with teeth,” she countered.

“Guess so.”  William put his weapon back and then turned his face toward the moon.  “Looks like it’s about ten o’clock.  I imagine it’ll be midnight or after ‘fore I can get back.”

“We will be fine.”  She glanced at her boys.  “And please, see if you can find something hot to drink to bring with you when you return.  Mes petits are sure to be cold.”

The cowboy tipped his hat.  “Will do, Ma’am.”  Several long strides took William to the stalwart horse that remained.  He mounted and looked down at her.  “God watch over you, Mrs. Cartwright, and the little ones ‘til I get back.”

“And you as well.”

Marie felt extremely alone as she watched William ride away – alone and foolish.  Her stubborn pride had gotten them into this.  She should have been content.  She had a wonderful husband and three loving sons; a beautiful home and everything she could want.

Except time.

All of her life she had been searching for something.  She had no idea what.  When a young girl, her maman had complained that she was always idling.  She told her it was to make the days longer.  It seemed to her that, no sooner had the sun risen than it set again; that time did not fly but rushed forward like a frenzied river swollen by a torrent.  She felt – and she had no reason for feeling this way – that she would never have enough time.  She loved Benjamin Cartwright – loved him with a passion that was her life’s breath.  She wanted to be with him, to spend each and every day at his side in case that river burst its banks and she was carried away.

Marie’s fingers went to the crucifix she wore about her neck.  “God’s will be done,” she breathed.

A peal of laughter brought the beautiful woman back to her present predicament and turned her toward her sons – just in time to see Joseph wobble and fall over to one side.  Hoss snorted as, determined, the little boy got back up, stood up straight  – and then fell to the ground again.

“Mes petits, what are you doing?” she asked as she walked over to them.

Hoss couldn’t speak he was giggling so hard.  He pointed to his brother just as the little boy rose to his feet again.  Petit Joseph caught her eye, thrust out his lower lip and placed his hands at his side, and then deliberately lifted one leg.  This time he lasted ten seconds before he fell.

She gathered the little boy up into her arms.  There were tears in his eyes.  “Mon petit, what is it?”

He sniffed.  “I want to markable, Mama!  I can’t be markable!”

She glanced at Hoss.  “Markable?”

Hoss drew in a breath to stem his laughter.  “Joe means ‘remarkable,’ Ma.  He just cain’t say it!”

Her tiny son’s head nodded against her.

“But you are remarkable, Joseph,” she cooed as she brushed his curls aside and planted a kiss on his furrowed brow.  “All of my boys are.”

He scowled.  “No, I’m not!  I gotta be able to stand on one leg to be markable!”

She was at a loss.

“It’s on account of this, Ma.”  Hoss showed her the book he’d been reading from.  “It’s by Hans Christian Anderson.”

She remembered now.  Adam had bought the book for his brother a few days before when they were in the settlement.

“It’s got a story in it called ‘The Steadfast Tin Soldier’.  Little Joe says he wants to be a soldier.”

“A markable soldier, Maman.  So I’s gotta be able to stand on one leg and not fall over.”  Joseph’s nod turned to a shake.  “I ain’t markable if I fall down.”

Marie knew the story.  It had been written some five years before and published in a collection called ‘Fairy Tales for Children’.  In it, the steadfast tin soldier – even though he had only one leg – was able to stand tall.  In the end he proved to be the ‘remarkable’ one rather than his companions who were whole.

“I told Joe it was just a story, Ma, but he didn’t hear me.”

The beautiful woman ran a hand through her small son’s glorious curls.  “Yes, it is a story, Hoss, but it contains a lesson as well.  One does not have to be the bravest, or the tallest, or the most handsome to be…markable.”  Her lips curled.  “One simply has to be steadfast.”

“What’s that mean?” Joseph asked.

“It means one must remain firm, mon petit.  That one should not give up when things do not go their way or become…difficult.”  Marie drew in a breath. Tears kissed her eyes.

“You okay, Ma?” Hoss asked.

“I will be,” she said, “when we get back home to your father.”

“You mean you don’t want to go to New Orleans no more?”

She shook her head.  “No.  Like my little one here, I must learn to be steadfast.”

“Can you stand on one leg without falling over, Maman?” Joseph asked her, wide-eyed.

Marie considered it.  Then she rose and held out her hand.  “Shall we see?”

Her son grinned from ear to ear.  A moment later they were standing hand in hand.  “Hoss, will you count?”

The boy looked puzzled.  “Oh.  You mean, like ‘on the count’ of three?”

“Oui.”

Hoss rose to his feet.  “Okay.  Count of three then.  One…two…three!”

And there, in the middle of the wilderness, in the dark – with God only knew what sort of dangers surrounding them – Marie Cartwright and her little soldier both lifted one leg and balanced on the other.  They both wobbled a bit in the beginning, but together they managed to remain upright – and steadfastly ‘markable’.

An hour later, when William arrived with a wagon to take them to the settlement, the cowboy was pleased as punch to head the to the Ponderosa instead.

Ben couldn’t sleep.  He’d risen early, dressed, and come downstairs, determined that he was going to follow his even more determined wife into the settlement and bring her and his sons home.  He’d spent the night considering his oldest boy’s words and had come to the conclusion that Adam was right – just as Marie was right.  He had been ignoring her.  Or maybe ‘overlooking’ was a better word.  Life was precarious at best.  If anyone should know that, it was him.  He’d promised himself after Inger died that – if he ever loved again – he would cherish each moment he was given.

How had he forgotten?

The clock had struck four as he came down the stairs.  It was about half-past now.  He’d gone to the kitchen,  inhaled some toast and coffee, and was ready to hit the road.  As he reached for his coat, Ben was surprised to hear a wagon roll into the yard.  He glanced at the clock again to make sure he wasn’t crazy, and then opened the door and stepped outside.  Terror struck him when he recognized William sitting alone on the driver’s seat.  Ben’s heart pounded hard as he approached it, and then skipped a beat when he noticed his wife’s golden head cresting above the side.  Marie stood up and smiled at him and then – literally – leapt into his arms.

“Mon Amour!” she declared as she covered him with kisses.

“Marie?”

“Hey, there, Pa!” a cheerful voice declared.

“Morning, Papa!” came another smaller one.

Ben was laughing.  “What is this all about?” he asked as he swung his wife to the ground.  “What happened to your trip to New Orleans?”

Marie dropped her head and then looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  “You have your little steadfast soldier to thank.”

“My what?”

“That’s me, Papa!”

Ben turned to find his smallest boy standing on the edge of the wagon with his arms extended as though he could fly.  Marie gasped as Joseph mimicked her and leapt into the air.

Fortunately, he caught him as well.

“I’m markable, Papa!” the little boy declared.  “Did you know that?”

Ben looked from Little Joe to Hoss and then to his wife.

What he did know was that his family must have one ‘markable’ story to tell.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Epilogue – 1861

Ben briefly touched his sleeping son’s head and then lifted the toy soldier from his grasp.  Joseph sighed and shifted as he did.  One eye opened and when Little Joe saw him, a sheepish grin lit his face.

“Hi, Pa,” he said.

The rancher put on a mock stern look.  “’Hi, Pa’, indeed!”

Little Joe sat up, scratching his head.  He looked at the window, noting the time of day, and then at his mother’s effects strewn across the floor.  “Guess I kind of left a mess.”

“And what exactly, young man, are you doing in my room?”

His son wrinkled his nose.  “Well, I kind of got bored.  No, that’s not true.  I was…lonely.  I guess I didn’t figure how big the house was and how empty it would seem with all of you gone.  I tried reading first….”

“Adam found your book on the sofa.”

“I couldn’t keep my mind on it.  I wandered into your office and was looking at mama’s picture.  That made me think of the conversation you and I had the other day about her jewelry casket and what was in it and,” Joe opened his arms wide, encompassing the mess, ‘the rest is, as they say, history.”

Ben remained silent as he looked at the soldier in his hand.

“Sorry if you’re mad, Pa.”

He glanced at the boy.  “No. Joseph.  I’m not mad.  All of this belongs to you.”

Little Joe grinned.  “I found Dam.”

Ben looked at the skin-horse.  “I thought you might like to have him if you have a son one day.”

Joseph studied him a moment before speaking.  “You’re always thinking about tomorrow, aren’t you, Pa?”

“Not always.  Right now I’m thinking about yesterday,” he replied as he turned the tiny soldier over in his hand.

“I found the soldiers at the bottom of the casket.  They were under a false bottom.”

“So that’s where they went.  I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?”

“No.  The set was your mother’s gift.”

“Did you know there’s one missing?”

He nodded.

“What happened to it?”

The rancher paused, remembering.  “You were very young,” Ben said at last.  “Do you recall a trip to town where the rig you, Hoss, and your mother were traveling in got stuck by the side of the road?”

Joe frowned, thinking.  Finally, he shrugged.  “Maybe.”

The rancher chuckled.  “Your mother decided she was leaving me.  She took you and Hoss and headed into the settlement with the intention of returning to New Orleans.”

“Gosh!  Really?”

“Really.  There was an accident along the way.  The horse shied and the rig lost a wheel, leaving the three of you stranded.”

Little Joe’s frown had deepened.  Now he grinned.  “Has this got to do with Hans Christian Anderson?”

“So you do remember?”

“I remember I wanted to be a soldier just like the one in the story.”  Joe looked at the cardboard box  laying on the floor.  “Is that why mama got these for me?”

He’d not been happy when Marie told him what she was ordering.  He did not want his sons to be soldiers.  His wife had reminded him of the importance of this particular soldier and he’d given in.

“She got them because you wanted to be ‘markable’.”

Joe’s brows popped.  “Huh?”

“ ‘All the soldiers looked exactly alike except one,” he quoted.  “He looked a little different as he had been cast last of all.  The tin was short, so he had only one leg.  But there he stood, as steady on one leg as any of the other soldiers on their two.  But just you see, he’ll be the remarkable one.’ ”

His son laughed. “So I couldn’t say ‘remarkable’?”

“No.”  Ben turned the soldier over in his fingers.  “You were so taken with the story that you tried to be that soldier.  You were bound and determined to stand on your own – and on one leg.  You told your mother you had to be ‘steadfast’ to be ‘markable’.”  He handed the toy back to his son.  “Your mother told me that you shamed her.  She realized that running away would solve nothing.  She said that she too needed stand firm and remember that one does not give up when things get tough.”  He placed his hand on his son’s head.  “You saved my marriage.”

Joe was turning the soldier over, noting every detail.  “So how’d they end up at the bottom of the casket, and why is one missing?”

“You’re mother ordered them that last spring.  She meant to give them to you for Christmas.  As they were her gift, I didn’t ask where she put them to hide them from little prying eyes.  It was only after she was gone that I realized they were missing.  They came by post, you see, all twelve of them in their shining glory.  Shortly after that your mother sent one to the tinsmith to have it…well…maimed!  You had to have your steadfast tin soldier.”

“What happened to that one?”

Ben stared at his son.  What he saw stabbed his heart.  Sitting there on the floor, with his hair tousled and his eyes so bright, Joseph looked just like his mother.  With a sigh the rancher turned and went to his dresser.  He opened the top side drawer and pulled out the box that held his finer things.  It took a moment to find what he was looking for.  When he located it, he carried it with him back to his son.

“Here.”

Joe took the little soldier with only one leg.

“It arrived after your mother died.  I…kept it.  It was one of the last thing’s Marie touched.”

Joe has tears in his eyes.  “Mama’s Christmas present.”

“Fourteen years late, but given with every ounce of love she had.”  Ben reached out to touch his son’s head.   “Merry Christmas, Joseph.  Your mother would be so proud of her steadfast ‘markable’ young man.”

Gift: Toy soldiers

Giver: Marie 

Inspired by:  Marie, My Love
Director:  Lewis Allen
Written by:  Anthony Lawrence, Anne Howard Bailey,

Link to Bonanza Brand 2020 Advent Calendar – Day 3 – The Greatest Gift by Annie K Cowgirl