Summary:  Little Joe isn’t the only Cartwright who confounds Dr. Martin.
Rating:  G  (1,300 words)
Written for the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~ *
Day 1

Ping’an Ye (or Peaceful Night)

“I’ll talk ta Pa for ya Shortshanks,” seventeen-year-old Hoss assured his brother who sat the other side of the checker board, legs crossed under his night shirt while sitting on his bed, “but I ain’t promisin’ ya he’ll agree to ya comin’ downstairs today.”

Hoss knew how miserable his little brother felt and saw the longing in his expressive green eyes.  They’d sparkled earlier in the morning when Hoss described how the great room looked all decorated for Christmas, which was less than a week away.

Several days earlier, Ben Cartwright had allowed his two sons to go out on their own to find the ‘perfect’ Christmas tree; unbeknownst to him, Little Joe had been hiding signs that he was coming down sick.  The youngest Cartwright had known if his father or Hop Sing found out he wasn’t hale and hearty, he would be prohibited from venturing out.  As for Hoss, Joe knew he could bluff his way around any worry his brother may have had, but still kept quiet.

With a voice lacking any volume, eleven-year-old Joe answered, “I just tired of being stuck up here. I wanted to help decorate the tree.”

“Ya shoulda told us ya weren’t feelin’ good.” Knocking over the piles of checker pieces as he reached forward to ruffle his younger brother’s head.

Giving a half-hearted scowl, Joe lowered his head knowing he really had no one to blame but himself.

“If ya eat the rest of the oatmeal Hop Sing brung, as I said, I’ll ask Pa about grantin’ ya a reprieve.”

“It’ll be cold,” complained Joe while reaching for the still full bowl on the nightstand and dipping the spoon into the bowl.

“And whose fault is that?”

Scrunching his face, Joe ate a spoonful and smiled; the oatmeal had been topped with molasses sweetened with honey, so even though it wasn’t as warm as it was earlier, it tasted better than he’d expected.

“Hoss?” came out more as a breathy whisper.

“Ya Joe?”

“Do you think Ad… he’ll…”  It had been four long years since he or anyone in the family had seen Adam.

Hoss knew who Little Joe was referring to, but decided to take the conversation a different direction, “Saint Nick?”

“I ain’t a baby no more Hoss.”  Making a face and moving his right hand to his throat, he whispered, “Pa told me over the summer.”

Standing up from where he’d sat on the side of the bed.  “You can still believe in ‘im by carryin’ St. Nick’s spirit in your heart.”

“Come in,” Joe tried to shout out in answer to the knock on his door, only to groan and rub his throat at the pain caused by calling out.

*****

Hoss slowly made his way down the stairs a short while later, head down with hands pushed into the front pockets of his pants until stopped by his thumbs.  Yes, the room was decorated, but not the tree.  It stood in stark reminder of how ill the youngest member of the family appeared when the brothers returned home with their prize.  Joseph Francis Cartwright’s flushed face was from more than just the cold winter wind.

“He can come down, Hoss,” Ben answered without waiting for the request.

“Shortshanks is gonna be surprised the tree is still bare.”  With pleading eyes, “He really gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Dr. Paul Martin spoke as he came from the dining room carrying a fresh cup of coffee.  “You just need to keep him indoors for a few more days, besides his throat will keep him from causing too much trouble.  Turning his attention to Ben, “I spoke with Hop Sing about additional foods he can fix for young Joseph.”

Stopping at the small round table at the end of the staircase, Hoss reached for an apple and proceeded to shine it on his shirt sleeve, “You think lettin’ him come downstairs is gonna give us a, a ah, Ping’an Ye, like Hop Sing talked about?”

“You say that vely well,” Hop Sing spoke having followed the physician from the kitchen, carrying a pot of coffee and a stack of two cups and saucers to where Ben sat in the alcove area that served as his office.

“I don’t think letting the boy come downstairs will cause him any harm; it was just a case of tonsilitis, a fairly bad case, but he’ll be okay,” Paul explained, taking a seat in front of Ben’s desk.  “You should be thankful I recently attended a lecture in San Francisco and Dr. Paul Jones allowed me to participate in several surgeries while I was there.”

Setting his own cup and saucer on the desk after watching Hop Sing serve his employers, “What was that you said…?” miserably failing to pronounce the word.

“Ping’an Ye, it is Chinese,” answered Hop Sing.

“How does that figure into allowing Little Joe to come down stairs?” Paul inquired, settling back into the chair, crossing his left ankle over his right knee.

Clearing his throat, “If I remember correctly, Ping’an Ye, means a safe and peaceful night.”  A twinkle of merriment appeared on Ben’s countenance.  “Their interpretation of silent night.”

“Ah,” Paul answered in understanding.  There was nothing, ‘silent’ about the youngest Cartwright; the lad was in perpetual motion, issuing a cackling laugh or lovingly teasing his older brother.  Then there were times the whirlwind rushed in from outside, slamming the front door into the credenza before running across the wooden floor and up the staircase, automatically shouting, “Sorry, Pa!” to Ben’s “Joseph!”

“Pingguo?” Paul responded.

“That is apple,” Hop Sing replied.

Looking to the houseman, with a slight shake of his head Paul stated, “I can’t tell the difference between the two words.”

Giving a slight bow before continuing, “Most do not.  To us, ‘pinggou’ is an apple and ‘ping’an ye’ means silent or peaceful.  Chinese believe in…” cocking his head sideways as he tried to translate the word his heart knew to English.

“Symbolism,” offered Ben.

“Yes, sym-bol-is-m,” replied Hop Sing.  “We gift apples on Christmas, wishing all a ‘silent night’ and as a way of offering blessings for one’s safety since the words sound close.”

Glancing about the room, his eyes settling on the small table with the bowl of apple, Paul asked, “Is that why there’s always a bowl of apples over there?  Is it an effort to keep that young man upstairs safe or quiet?”

“Neither,” Hoss answered before noisily biting into the fruit.  “Pa believes in the proverb.”

“Proverb?” Paul inquired, now totally confused. “I thought we were talking symbolism, how’d we get to proverbs?”

“I’m surprised at you, Paul.” Ben laughed, “Don’t you remember a few years back when Joseph complained about you coming out so many times to examine him?”

Pausing, Paul lowered his booted foot to the floor before reaching for his cup of coffee and took a sip.  Sitting back, “There’s been a lot of times I’ve made frequent trips for that boy upstairs.”

Drinking his own coffee, Ben wrapped both hands around the cup for warmth, leaned forward to rest both forearms on the edge of the desk, “I remember you distinctly telling Joseph ‘An apple a day will keep the doctor away.”

“Don’t seem to be workin’ too good, does in?” Hoss answered with another crunch of apple.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Author’s Notes:

Character I chose:  Ben Cartwright
Item given:              Apple
Second character received:      Paul Martin

Per Wikipedia:

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away” is a common English-language proverb that appeared in the 19th century, advocating for the consumption of apples, and by extension, “if one eats healthy foods, one will remain in good health and will not need to see the doctor often.”

For those curious about my 16-word, first draft as mentioned in the Forums:

Ben quoted Dr. Martin when he told Joe, ‘An Apple a day keeps the doctor away!’ 

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Link to the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – Day 2 – The Glass Bird (by McFair_58)