Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 14 *

Summary:  The brothers toil over a gift the Widow Hawkins intends to give the local orphanage.

Rating: G  2,365 words

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

Harry’s Horse

“Ducky!”

Ben cringed, lowered his hat, and tried, to no avail, to hide behind a table piled with bolts of fabric.

Hoss snickered at the sight of his father behaving like Little Joe might if sighted by the irate father of a pretty gal.  He elbowed the older man in the ribs and said in a low voice, “Don’t slouch.”

Clementine Hawkins swooped ‘round the corner of the table, the swaying feathers in her hat lending the impression of a hawk descending upon a frightened rabbit.

“How fortunate I’ve run into you, Ducky!  I need a strong man to fetch down my donation to the little ones at the orphanage.”  She sighed and sorrow colored her eyes for the briefest of moments as she said, “If only my ‘Arry, bless his soul, were still with us.”  Joy once again blossomed on her face.  “Come along and I’ll fix you a spot of tea for your trouble.”

Ben looked like a panicked rabbit.  “I’m sorry, Clementine, I just can’t.  I um . . . I have business with . . . um . . . .“ He looked at Hoss and nudged him.  “You know . . . I have to take care of that . . . thing.”

The corners of Clementine’s mouth drooped down.

“What thing, Pa?” Hoss asked.  He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, enjoying his father’s discomfort.

Ben glared at his largest son.  Before he could think up some excuse, he was saved by the bell jingling over the mercantile’s door.

“I’ve got papers for you to sign, Ben,“ said Hiram Wood.  “Do you want to come over to my office?  I can bring them out to the Ponderosa if you’d prefer.”

Seeing a safe refuge, a smile of relief crossed Ben’s face and he tipped his hat as he bowed his head to Clementine.  “I’ve got to take care of this.  Hoss is more than happy to help you.”

Now it was Hoss’s turn to look glum.  And just as the afternoon’s entertainment was getting wound up.

Clementine managed to hold back a sigh of disappointment.  “Come along, Hoss.  I suspect this won’t take long at all.”

Hoss meekly followed her to her boarding house and he silently reminded himself to leave Harry’s weight alone.  Last time he’d ruined a table when didn’t take the time to set down the weight with care.

She led the way up the stairs to the attic doorway.  Hoss reached for the knob at the same time and she gave his hand a gentle slap.  Clementine made her way through chairs, a couple of desks, a bed frame, and other items to open the attic shutters.  Light flooded into the room, revealing treasures of a long-ago life.

While theater posters, and Harry’s tights, hung downstairs for all to see, items of a more personal nature were hidden away.  A white-painted crib, a red-painted cradle with a line of small grey elephants on the side, and a small trunk which Hoss supposed held baby clothes.  Despite his pleasure at his father’s discomfort any time Clementine approached, Hoss felt a sadness rising in him and he wiped the corner of his eye to prevent a tear from falling.

“’Arry and I desperately wanted little ones but it weren’t in the cards for us.”  She made her way back to Hoss and took his arm.  “Come along and get the rocking horse.”

He followed along behind her to a wooden rocking horse he supposed Harry had made.  The horse’s legs were outstretched, forever in mid-gallop, neck arched and mouth open.  Hoss lightly ran his fingers down the neck before lifting the toy from under the horse’s belly.  It was lighter than he’d thought it would be although it felt to be solid wood.  He cradled it against his chest as he followed Clementine out of the attic then down the stairs.  Once in the living room, he got a better look at the toy.  One of the rockers was split and would have to be replaced; carving a new one wouldn’t take long.  He wiped off some of the dust, and flaking paint, with his sleeve yet it remained a dingy grey with a faded red saddle and bridle.  It could again be magnificent—a bright white body with horsehair added for the mane and tail, shiny black hooves, and flowers on the rockers.

“How much do you think it’d cost to fix up?” she asked.

“I’d be right pleased to do it for nothin’, Miz Hawkins.”

“Coo, paint ain’t free.  And you should be compensated for your time.”

Hoss scrunched up his nose.  “You said it’s for the orphans, right?”  She nodded.  “It don’t seem right to ask you to pay for somethin’ that’ll bring those little shavers some joy.”

Clementine smiled up at him, happiness radiating from her face.  “You remind me of my ‘Arry, you do.  He was always one for doin’ a kind deed.  Now ‘ave a seat and I’ll bring in a cup oftea.”

“Oh no, ma’am.  I’m a firm coffee man.  I’ll bring your rocker back in a few days, good as new.” He tipped his hat and picked up the rocking horse, making it clear Clementine couldn’t negotiate him into staying for tea.

As he was crossing the street, Hoss saw his father trying to hide in the shadows outside of the mercantile.  He was tempted to turn back for Widow Hawkins but decided he ought not while carrying a delicate relic.

“Is it safe?”  Ben asked in a stage whisper.

“From what?” asked Hoss.  He hoped his snort was mistaken for a sneeze.

As Hoss adjusted items in the back of the wagon to make room for the rocking horse, he noticed his father was peering up and over the wagon like a prairie dog.

“She ain’t comin’ after us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Hoss didn’t successfully hold back a chuckle at the sound of his father’s sigh.

“What’s that you put back there?” Ben asked as he clambered up onto the seat.

Hoss climbed up and flicked the reins to get the horses going.  “Widder Hawkins wants me to fix up a rocking horse for the orphans.”  One corner of his mouth turned up as he said, “That horse’ll probably be wore out in a day’s time.”

“I wonder why she’s parting with it,” said Ben.

“Ain’t none of us gettin’ any younger, Pa.”

*

The next morning, Hoss brought the rocking horse out of the barn for a good look.  He ran his hands over the body of the horse, checking for splits or the beginnings of cracks but found none, likely because it hadn’t suffered rough treatment from a hard-riding child.

A high-pitched giggle was followed by, “You’re a mite too big for that horsie.”

Hoss only responded with a glare.

“Doesn’t look like mine.  Where’d you get it?”

“Widder Hawkins.”

Another giggle.  “How bad did Pa squirm?”

“Don’t you got somethin’ to do, someplace else?” asked Hoss.

“Probably.”  Joe squatted down beside the horse and whistled at the craftsmanship that had produced the toy.  “Why is Widow Hawkins parting with it?”

“It’s for the orphans.”

“I bet we could fix it up real nice.” Joe snapped his fingers.  “I’ll braid reins for it.”

A shadow fell across the rocking horse.  “Aren’t you boys happy with the real thing?”

“What have you got against toys?” asked Joe.  “Besides, it’s for the orphans.”

Adam bent over, resting his hands on his knees, to get a look at the child-sized horse.  “The saddle could use a good soaping.”  He unfastened the cinch and carried the saddle into the barn.

Hoss followed into the barn for tools and spare wood.  Neither he nor Adam had ever had the luxury of such toys.  Money had been sparse and what little spare wood remained from preparing logs for building the house had gone into the fire to keep them all warm.  Joe was the only one to have had a rocking horse, which he’d rode near to death.  Hoss dropped the chisel and the thud of it reminded him of the toy tipping over, trapping Little Joe beneath.  His little brother hadn’t so much as whimpered, just said his horse fell jumping a fence.

With Joe’s help, Hoss removed the split rocker from the horse and they set the animal on its side.  While Hoss started carving a repair piece, Joe got a couple lengths of leather and started braiding.

“Widder Hawkins would’ve probably made a great ma,” said Hoss.

“She could still be a mother, our mother, if she corners Pa and wears him down,” said Joe.

Hoss laughed and told Joe about the encounter at the mercantile.  “Pa would’ve slipped into a dress and bonnet if he’d thought it would’ve saved him.”

Both guffawed at imagining their father in a calico dress and pert bonnet.

Drawn by the laughter, Adam emerged from the barn, rag and tin of soap in hand.  “What’s so funny?”

“Pa bein’ afraid of Widder Hawkins.”

“He gripped my arm as tight as a tourniquet when I was last at her boarding house with him, like he was a frightened mouse,” said Adam.  He shrugged a shoulder and said, “Mama Inger chased Pa but she was subtle about it, made him think courting was his idea.”  Adam sighed.  “Mama Inger was a real nice lady.”

“Harry Hawkins might have been the strongest man on Earth but he must not have been strong enough to fend off Widow Hawkins’ advances,” said Joe.

Hoss blew wood shavings off of the rocker he was carving and measured it against the intact rocker.  “I figure she didn’t have to chase hard.”  He recalled the baby furniture in the attic.  “He probably woulda done anything to make her happy.”

All three fell into silence again.  Adam and Joe returned their focus to the horse’s tack while Hoss worked the rocker over with a shagreen to smooth the roughness away.  Once finished with the reins, Joe held the horse steady while Hoss attached the rocker.  Both were satisfied with the horse’s smooth motion.

*

Red clouds streaked the evening sky as Hoss put the finishing touches on the horse’s flowing mane and tale, made from generous contributions of hair from Buck and Cochise.  He wiped his palms on his trousers then pressed his fists into his lower back as he stretched.  Adam approached from the house with an extra cup of coffee and offered it to Hoss.  Joe, having completed the evening’s chores, came out of the barn and joined his brothers.  The three men admired the results of their labor—the gleaming saddle, trim reins, and shiny black hooves contrasting with the glossy white body.

“Seems almost a shame to give it away,” said Joe.

“The young ‘uns will be grinnin’ from ear to ear when they catch sight of this.”

“Are you taking it directly to the orphanage?” asked Adam.

“Figure I oughtta take it over to the boarding house for Widder Hawkins’ approval.”

Adam nodded and accepted Hoss’s proffered coffee cup.  Hoss carried the rocking horse into the barn and settled a soft blanket over it.

*

After breakfast, Hoss loaded the rocking horse into the wagon and head for town.  Most of the orphans were miners’ children and toys had been few and far between before their parents’ deaths.  Miners couldn’t afford real horses, much less toy ones.  Hoss wished no child had to be an orphan but he hoped the rocking horse would bring them a bit of happiness.

Reaching the boarding house, he nimbly jumped down from the wagon and tied the reins to the hitching post.  After rapping against the door, he removed his hat and smoothed down wisps of hair.

A large smile broke across Clementine’s face when she opened the door.  “Were you able to restore it?”

“Come see, ma’am.”

Hoss offered his elbow and he escorted the widow to the rear of the wagon.  He lowered the tailgate and carefully pulled back the blanket to reveal the glossy rocking horse.

Clementine gasped and the fingertips of both hands lightly rested against her cheeks.  She stretched forth one arm and gingerly ran her fingers along the toy horse, feeling the supple leather and the natural tail.

Joy radiated from her face and tears glistened in her eyes.  “My ‘Arry would be so pleased.”  She sniffled and dabbed a lacy handkerchief to her eyes and nose.  “You done a right fine job of this.”

“How about we take it on over to them orphans?” asked Hoss.

“Will you ‘ave a spot of tea first?”

“Maybe after.”

Hoss resettled the blanket and assisted Clementine onto the seat.  He ran the back of his hand across one eye as he pulled the reins from the hitching post.

At the orphanage, Clementine went in to speak with the matron while Hoss got the rocking horse from the wagon.  At the widow’s wave, he brought the toy inside.

“You want it in the middle of the room or to the side?” he asked the matron.

“Set it down in the center and I’ll have it moved later if need be,” she said.

Two ladies who volunteered at the orphanage entered the room and approached the rocking horse as if it were an ancient relic worthy of reverence, tracing the lines of it with their fingertips and lifting the strands of horsehair at the mane and tail.

“Gather the children,” ordered the matron.

“Per’aps it’d be best if we were on our way,” said Clementine.

“Don’t you want to see the children’s excitement and receive their thanks?” asked the matron.

Clementine wrapped her hands around Hoss’s forearm and rested her cheek against his broad upper arm.  She was positive the warmth in her heart was Harry’s spirit assuring her that children for years to come would enjoy the rocking horse he’d created for the babe they’d never had.

“How ‘bout that cup of tea, ma’am?” Hoss asked, looking down at his petite companion.

Widow Hawkins smiled up at him.  “Coo, won’t take but a minute to brew a pot.”

As they neared the orphanage’s front door, the children’s delighted cries caught their ears and added a spring to the pair’s step.

The End

Character: Clementine Hawkins

Gift: Rocking horse

Inspired by:  The Burma Rarity
Director:  William Witney
Written by:  N.B. Stone, Jr., David Dortort (creator)

Link to Bonanza Brand 2020 Advent Calendar – Day 15 – Christmas Spirit by Cheaux