Summary:   A missing ornament threatens holiday traditions for the Cartwrights.
Rating:  G  words 2,600
Written for the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

---

 

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~

*Day 15*

A Toast to Tradition

 

The distraught cowboy entered Sheriff Roy Coffee’s office and stood stone faced in front of the desk staring at the man occupying the well-worn chair.

“Joe.  Good to see you. It’s been a month of Sundays since you’ve been in town,” said Deputy Clem Foster. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s Roy?”

“In Carson City testifying at the Hobart trial.”

“When will he return?”

“Can’t rightly say. Could be a couple days. More likely a week. You know how the state prosecutor likes to grandstand, especially since he’s up for re-election next year. As far as he’s concerned, the more space the Territorial Enterprise devotes to his theatrics, the better.” Noting Joe’s agitation, however, Clem quickly added, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s been a theft.”

Clem stood abruptly, pulled a rifle from the rack behind him and turned around. “I can have a posse ready to ride in fifteen minutes. What was stolen—cattle?”

“No.”

“Your prize stallion?”

“He’s fine. All the stock is fine.”

“What then?”

“Something was taken from the house.”

“Payroll?”

“Secure.”

Stymied, Clem sat on the edge of the desk. He was about to chastise Joe for wasting his time when he remembered the magnificent Thanksgiving celebration he attended at the ranch house just a few weeks before where the silver utensils, candlesticks, platters, and chafing dishes glistened in the candlelight and glow from the fireplace. “Not the Silver!”

“Hop Sing is polishing as we speak.”

“Gosh darn it, Joe,” Clem said as he stood and replaced the rifle in the rack, “I’m a busy man and I’ve had enough of this parlor game. When you are ready to press charges, let me know who—“

“—crystal,” Joe said.

“Crystal who?  Not Crystal Lynch surely. She’s in Sacramento visiting her parents. Saw her off myself. You know, when she returns I really ought to ask her to dinner.”

“Focus, Clem. Waterford.”

“Waterford,” Clem said flatly. The deputy’s eyes narrowed as he pondered the oblique statement, then widened as the fog lifted. “Waterford…as in crystal…as in that magnificent punch bowl?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, could it have been misplaced after your last party?”

“No. It’s a piece we only pull out once a year at Christmas.”

“Once a year? Joe, that bowl is a fixture at every party on the Ponderosa.”

“Bowl? Oh, no. I’m not talking about the punch bowl.”

“Well what then?”

Looking forlorn, Joe plunked down in the chair in front of Roy’s desk. “A crystal basket. Pa will kill me.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“You don’t understand. It’s a part of our Twelfth Night tradition.”

“Something Adam came up with?”

“Nothing to do with the Bard of the Ponderosa. It’s all about the twelve days of Christmas. You know… eight maids a milking, seven lords a leaping…”

“And a partridge in a pear tree… I know.”

“Well, there’s twelve nights of Christmas as well as days.  The night of December 25 is the first night and the twelfth night is the night before Epiphany.”

“Where does the basket fit in?”

“All decorations are put away before Epiphany to avoid bad luck in the new year. The crystal basket is the last ornament to come off the tree on the twelfth night. It’s filled with candy which we share while wishing each other a sweet new year.”

“So buy another basket over at the mercantile.”

“It’s WATERFORD! You can’t buy Waterford at the mercantile!”

“Too bad you can’t pick it out of a catalog and have it delivered the next day.”

“Like that will ever happen!”

“What are you going to do?” Clem asked.

“Well… I was hoping Roy and you would help me figure out who took it!”

“And how do you propose we do that? Interrogate every ranch hand and visitor to the Ponderosa in the past year?”

Joe groaned. “This ornament has been a Cartwright tradition for over a hundred years. We take turns being in charge and this year it was my turn. Pa’s gonna kill me.”

“Why do you keep saying that? He might be a tad upset but—“

“—you don’t get it. It’s the youngest who gets to remove the basket from the tree on Twelfth Night and have the first pick of a sweet.” Joe saw the blank look on the deputy’s face. “This is Jamie’s first Twelfth Night as a Cartwright.”

Clem nodded solemnly. “Hey, wait a minute! Isn’t Epiphany like January 5th or 6th? Today is only December 15th. Can’t you wire one of the San Francisco stores and have one shipped?”

“We’re putting up the tree this weekend. The basket is the first ornament on the tree and, according to tradition, placed by the oldest Cartwright.”

“Your Pa.”

Joe wrapped his arms around his middle, bent forward, and groaned again. “I am so dead.”

*****

“Hey, Pa!” Hoss yelled lumbering down the stairs. “I hear sleigh bells. Bet that’s Joe.”

“Well, it’s about time!” Ben said, rising from his desk chair. He lifted the curtain and peered out the window but the frosted pane prevented him from seeing anything.

“Aw, Pa, give him a break. Hop Sing’s list of groceries was as long as my arm.”

“All I can say is he’d better not have stopped off at the Silver Dollar. We have a lot of decorating to do before the Cohens and Levys arrive. I was hoping to get a head start tonight.”

“Not before eat,” Hop Sing said coming into the great room. “Cook all day, expect bellies to be hungry. Not spoil suppah with popcorn and candy canes.”

“Yes, Hop Sing, of course,” said Ben. “We will enjoy your wonderful meal before we decorate the tree. Many thanks.”

Hop Sing humphed and trotted back to the kitchen mumbling under his breath.

“I don’t understand why we’re rushing to get the house decorated for this company, Pa,” said Jamie. “I mean they’re Jewish, right?”

“That’s right,” said Hoss. “But they enjoy our traditions as much as we do theirs.”

“You mean as much as you enjoy the sugared jelly donuts, don’t you, Hoss?”

“Aw, shucks, Pa. I enjoy the latkes, applesauce, and brisket, too.  Jamie, you just wait until you feast on the dinner they fix us.”

“Do they come here every year?”

“Pretty much have for the last six years ever since Joe and I rescued the Cohens and Levys from a blizzard and they spent a week with us. We got to know their traditions and they ours.”

“After all, Christ was a Jew,” Ben added. “It gives us an understanding and appreciation of the traditions he grew up with and therefore our own.”

“I thought Hop Sing didn’t like anyone else in his kitchen.”

“Usually that’s true, Jamie,” said Ben. “But he makes an exception for the women folk because she is an immaculate cook and the kitchen is ship shape when he returns.”

“From where?”

“Dayton,” said Hoss. “Since Hanukkah usually falls before Christmas, Hop Sing spends time with his relatives in Chinatown before celebrating Christmas with us.“

Just then the old ship’s bell outside rang. Normally used to sound All Hands on Deck in the case of an emergency or to call the ranch hands in for supper in warmer months, it was an unexpected sound in the winter.

“What in tarnation?” Hoss sprinted to the credenza to grab his gun from its holster and opened the door. The wind tore it from his grip and Ben, who was right behind his big son, caught it before it could bang against the credenza.

“Jamie, stay inside,” Ben admonished as he pulled on his sheepskin jacket and grabbed Hoss’s coat before exiting the house into near whiteout conditions. He could barely see through the swirling snow and he couldn’t comprehend what Hoss was tugging at. When the wind momentarily changed direction, he could see their freight wagon alongside the pole that held the bell, a dark form huddled on its bench.

“Pa! Get the kettle! Joe’s pants are stuck to the wagon seat.”

Ben threw Hoss his coat and entered the kitchen through the side door. “Hop Sing, light the stove in the washhouse and heat water for a bath. Jamie, put another log on the fire and get the wool blankets out of the hall chest.”

“What’s going on, Pa?”

“Your brother is near frozen.”

Ben lifted the kettle from the back of the stove and checked to see how much water was left, then pivoted and moved into the yard quickly. When he looked up and saw the stars shining brightly, he realized it had been the powerful wind gusts responsible for the blowing snow and not a new storm.

“Hoss, there’s not a lot of water left but it’s still warm.”

“Need just enough to get Joe unstuck.”

“Just hang in there, Joe. We’ll get you inside as quick as we can.”

“Unhitch the team, will ya, Pa? Won’t do to have them bolt.”

Ben did as requested and led the horses into the barn to be dealt with later.  By the time he raced back to the wagon, Hoss was half carrying, half dragging Joe into the house.

Jamie held the door open. “Fire’s roaring, Pa, blankets on the hearth, and the bath water is heating.”

“Good. I’ll help Hoss with Joe. You take care of the horses and unload the supplies.”

Hoss threw in a few of his own instructions. “Rub them down good and double the hay, Jamie, and don’t forget the horse blankets.”

“Will do, Hoss.” Jamie moved toward the door slowly, casting a backward glance at the tight-knit Cartwrights hovering over one of their own. Despite the adoption, he wondered if he’d ever fit in.

“Any time this century, Jamie,” Hoss said, crossly as they reached the stairs.

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Joe reached out and touched his father’s arm. “P-pa.”

The stutter reminded Ben of when Joe was little. He’d always been plain ‘pa’ to Adam and Hoss. Only his curly-haired, precocious, mischievous, whirling dervish of a son called had him papa.

“I n-need t-to t-talk to you.”

“Not before we get you out of these wet clothes! Hop Sing,” he shouted, “is that bath ready yet?”

*****

Perched on the hearth in front of the roaring fire, clothed in long johns, a robe, and wool socks, and double wrapped in a Hoss-sized quilt, Joe still shivered.

“This help,” Hop Sing said as he handed No. 3 son a mug of hot buttered rum which Joe grasped with both hands.

“Th-thanks.”

“How in the world did you get soaked, shortshanks?” Hoss asked. “There ain’t been fresh snow up here for days.”

“P-pouring rain in the v-valley.  Nothin’ to do for it ‘cept g-get home as f-fast as I c-could.”

“You should have known it would be freezing up here. Why didn’t you stay in town?”

“C-coudn’t, Pa. Needed to t-tell you something.” Joe looked directly at his father but darted a sideways glance at Jamie and tilted his head slightly toward the stairs.

“Well, it’s been an eventful evening.” Ben stood and addressed Hoss and Jamie. “Why don’t you two head on up to bed. Morning will be here before we know it and we have a lot to do to prepare for our visitors.”

“What about Joe?” Jamie asked.

“Don’t you fuss about Joe,” Hoss said. “He needs to drink some more of that rum and get toasted before comin’ up to bed.”

When his brothers turned down the hallway at the top of the stairs, Joe held up his mug. “More rum, please.”

“I think Hoss meant toasty—as in warm—not toasted as in drunk.”

“Shucks, Pa. I nearly froze out there. Just a dram?”

“All right, a dram. And no more!”

Ben took Joe’s mug into the kitchen and grabbed one for himself.  To each, he added a generous dollop of Hop Sing’s special batter of salted butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice before pouring in a good portion of dark rum and adding boiling water.

He and Joe sat by the fire and sipped and watched the flames for a good bit of time before Ben spoke.

“You want to tell me what was so important you had to defy all common sense to get home in a hurry?”

Not really, Joe thought but he took a big gulp of the rum and licked his upper lip.  “I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find what?”

“The crystal basket for the tree. I don’t know where it is. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve racked my brain trying to remember what I did with it when we cleaned up last year. I don’t know. I just don’t know. I….” Joe saw the shock and disappointment on his father’s face and his eyes began to water.  “I’m so sorry, Pa. I know how important that heirloom is to you and I know I stayed longer in Virginia City than I should have. I saw the storm clouds coming but I kept thinking the next store, the next mercantile or emporium would have something like it that I could use when we decorate the tree.  I mean, I knew you and Hoss would know it wasn’t the real thing, but Jamie wouldn’t … and … maybe … maybe I’d find the real one before we took the tree down and Jamie … Jamie … he wouldn’t think ….”

“Jamie?”

“He’s heard the story. He knows our tradition. If there’s no basket, he might think—”

“—think what?”

“That the adoption was a ruse. That he doesn’t belong. That we don’t really consider him a Cartwright.”

Stunned, Ben sat back in his red chair and stared at his youngest son. No, that’s just the point, isn’t it. Joe is no longer my youngest son, but he is still my most intuitive and sensitive child. He rose and sat next to Joe on the hearth. The temperature of the room had cooled but the fire was still warm on his back. He put his hand on Joe’s neck and drew him close.

“It is true the Waterford basket is a family heirloom that has been handed down through generations of Cartwrights.” Ben felt a shudder pass through his son’s body. “But, Joseph, whether the basket is crystal or wooden or made of clay, it’s only purpose as a vessel for the candy is to symbolize the passing of a tradition to the next generation.”

“Still, I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are, son, but we’ll find it. After all, it’s not like it grew legs and walked away or was stolen.”

“That’s what Clem said.”

“Clem?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

“Son, in my mind, what is more important is that you recognized—more than I did, frankly—what it will mean to Jamie to be included in the tradition this year. And that is of greater significance to me than any piece of glass ever could be—heirloom or not.”

Joe threw his arms around Ben and held the embrace until Ben said, “Now, if you’re toasted enough, let’s head up to bed.”

–The End–

Author’s Notes:  Nevada’s first China Town was established in 1857 in Dayton, seven miles from Virginia City.

This story was written in memory of MicheleBE1115, may her soul rest in peace, and mentions her original characters from her 2017 Advent Story The Chanukah Story.

 

Primary Character:  Joe
Secondary Character:  Clem Foster
Object:  a basket of sweets

 

Link to the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – Day 16 – The Broken Cord by McFair_58