Summary:  To some degree, this is a WHBefore for “Elizabeth, My Love,” and “The Burma Rarity.”
Rating:  G  Words  1,650
Written for the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 11 *

Christmas Candle

Adam’s trip to town turns out badly for him, but not as badly as it might have without a candle in someone’s window….

Afterwards, Adam Cartwright never could remember how he came to be on that street of all the streets of Virginia City when he was supposed to be straight on his way back down the the mountain to the Ponderosa. He remembered the morning well enough–how he’d volunteered to go up to town instead of his Pa to sort out some business with the lawyers; how the rain had started almost before he was well out of the house, soaking through his greatcoat before it turned to wind-whipped snow that gradually froze all his clothing solid. There hadn’t been enough time at the lawyers to warm him up again, so he’d paused at the Silver Dollar in hopes that a hot, spiked drink would ease the growing soreness in his throat. And then…and then it was cold again, and dark despite all the drifted snow, and it wasn’t just his throat that ached, but his shoulders and his elbows and all the length of his legs. He knew there must be buildings on both sides of the road–he must have still been in the center of town–but he couldn’t tell what they were, or where he was except still too far from home. He fumbled at the collar of his coat and shifted his head from right to left and saw–

Light. A single candle flame, bright as the Evening Star, shining from a window across the street from him, from a house he suddenly recognized with the first stirring of warmth he’d felt for what seemed like forever. Adam tethered his horse (fresh from a day in the livery stable and in much better fettle than he was) to the porch railing and pulled himself up the steps to the front door. It might be too late in the evening for a polite social call–he felt as lost in time as he had been in space a few moments before–but leaving an open flame by window curtains was dangerous enough to justify intruding, even if the mistress of the house had retired to her bed, surely?

But Clementine Hawkins had not been asleep. The elderly woman opened the door and briefly summed him up, plump and bright-eyed, with her head slightly atilt. Adam was, as always, reminded of a small, self-important bird–chickadee? wren? robin from some English storybook tale?–before she darted forward to drag him across her threshhold. “Goodness, duckie, what have you done with yourself? You look like a half-finished snowman! In now, come in and I’ll blow up the fire and get you some tea and a biscuit…”

“No, please don’t bother,” Adam said through chattering teeth, but he was helpless to stop her fussing. The little songbirds in his head were replaced with a broody bantam hen, feathers fluffed and loud with resolution. She parked him in a chair as close to the stove as she could manage, stripped off his coat and even his shirt before he could protest, and swaddled him in a thick knitted coverlet he suspected she’d been using herself before his arrival.

“There now. The tea won’t be a moment; I was fixing a potful right before you knocked. Should be nice and black now, just what you need.”

She was right, Adam had to admit as he warmed his fingers around the dainty cup. The hot liquid burned down his throat with a cleansing surge of pain, and the warm steam thawed his frozen eyelashes until his eyes came fully open. As he looked around more alertly he was a little surprised to notice there were no other Christmas decorations than the huge pillar candle in the window, sitting–he saw wryly–inside a birdcage (or was it a whalebone crinoline hoop?) to protect the curtains. Mrs Hawkins might have eccentric decorating notions, but at heart she was as practical as his Pa. Seen by candlelight, in fact, the gaudy circus paraphernalia that filled the house took on a softer grace, a memory of magic. He was about to tell her so when she spoke first. “I know you boys think I’m a foolish old woman–”

“Of course we don’t!” Adam broke in sharply enough to return the soreness to his throat.

She didn’t seem to have heard him. “This time of the year it’s ‘ard without ‘Arry. ‘E loved the Christmas season, loved doing special shows for the little ‘uns, and the Christmas pantos too–that’s ‘ow we met, you know. Nothing ‘e loved more than giving a crowd of children a laugh.” For a moment she looked down at her twisting hands. “Except me, ‘e said…we meant to have a big family, but when ‘e learned it wasn’t going to be, ‘e told me I meant more to him than twenty kiddywinks, just by meself. And he never talked about ‘aving kids again, not to me….” She looked back up at Harry’s circus poster, with its bulging arms and absurdly dainty feet. “It was December when ‘e died, you know.”

Adam managed a rasping, “No, I didn’t, ma’am.”

“We was coming back from a Sunday matinee, a full ‘ouse of children all in their ‘oliday clothes, such a lovely show it was, and the streets were so busy you couldn’t believe…and a little girl ran out after ‘er dog. O’ course ‘Arry went after, and pushed ‘er out of the carriageway; and the stagecoach rolled right over ‘is chest, front and back wheels both. Never ‘ad a chance to stop, not for the girl, not for ‘Arry. The coachman made more noise than ‘Arry did; ‘e was right upset by it all, but ‘Arry…’Arry whispered to me, ‘Don’t stop the show. Don’t let the kiddies know anything’s wrong.’ Thought ‘e was back at the circus, I suppose. And then…’e died. That great, warm giant-hearted man, ‘e died. And there was nothing anyone could’ve done. ‘E’d never have let a child get hurt if ‘e could stop it.” She twitched the corner of her apron up to dab at her eyes. “So come Christmas, I put that candle in the window, to let ‘im know ‘e’s missed, and loved, and still remembered. It’s all I’ve the ‘eart to do, but I wouldn’t never not do that.”

” ‘E–he must have been a wonderful man,” Adam said gently.

“That he was,” Mrs Hawkins agreed with a wavering smile, and came sharply to the alert a moment later as a clatter of hooves sounded in the street outside.  “Now ‘oo else is visiting this time of night? Best open up before the door’s kicked in.”

Little Joe Cartwright stumbled in, arm still lifted to pound on the door that had opened before he could knock. “Ma’am, I’m looking for my brother Adam; we saw his horse…”

“Yes, dearie, I know. He’s in here safe and getting warm. And is that Mr. Hoss out there too? I’ll put on another kettle for you….”

Hoss pushed through to join his younger brother in the doorway. “Pa sent us out to warn him the main road ‘s blocked with snow, but we couldn’t find him anywhere until we saw Sport outside your house. They said he looked mighty peaked at the Silver Dollar, but didn’t know where he was headed when he left there. We were starting to worry he’d started back early and been caught in the avalanche. It plum felt like a miracle seeing old Sport shining in your candlelight.”

“Peaked isn’t the word for it,” Adam croaked. Even after the strong tea, he barely had the strength to sit upright in the chair, let alone get to his feet, and a glance at the stove told him all his clothes were still dripping.

“I’ll swap shirts with you,” Hoss decided, and stripped to the waist before noticing Mrs Hawkins’s bright eyes watching him. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

“You don’t have to be coy with a woman my age,” she chuckled. “Not that I’m too old to appreciate a fine chest like that.”

Joe busied himself getting Hoss’s shirt over Adam’s head while Hoss managed to squirm into Adam’s shirt without ripping its seams open. Adam glanced from his largest brother to Harry Hawkins’ portrait and wondered how much alike the two might be…except for the feet, of course. A cold hand passed across his forehead before he could flinch away. “Adam, you’re burning up!” Joe cried out. “I’m riding double with you. No arguing.”

“Not on Sport you won’t.” Adam tried to shake his head for emphasis and had to swallow hard to repress a surge of nausea. When he dared open his mouth again, he added, “And Cochise can’t take us both.”

” ‘S’all right,” Hoss said comfortingly. “You two take my Chubb, and I can ride Sport and lead Cochise. Gonna have to go slow anyway, taking the back way. At least it’s stopped blowing so hard. We’ll get you safe home and into bed, brother. C’mon now, up you get.”

With a power Harry Hawkins himself might have envied, Hoss wedged himself under Adam’s arm and swung him easily to his feet. There was a brief struggle at the door before all three Cartwrights were sorting themself out on the steps–or, in Adam’s case, being sorted.

Clementine Hawkins watched from the window until the odd pack-train rode away. “What a darling set of boys,” she smiled to herself. “Such a pity they’ve got no Ma….”

~The End

My prompt was “candle”.

Primary character: Adam

Secondary character: Clementine Hawkins

Link to Bonanza Brand 2022 Advent Calendar Day 12 – Big Things Start Small by ElayneA