Summary:  Adam’s brothers are missing.  Will the Christmas secret he is keeping lead to their rescue?
Rating:  G  3,515 words

Written for the 2024 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

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

The Storm Whisperer

“What you think number one son do in there?”

Ben Cartwright pulled at his chin as he eyed his housekeeper and friend.  “He wouldn’t let you in?”

Hop Sing shook his head.  “Tell this one to leave bucket of coal outside and go!”

“Told?”

The Asian man shrugged.  “Ask…but not politely.”

The rancher stared at the wooden barrier barring him from Elizabeth’s boy. It was just a door, but with the key turned in the lock it might as well be an impregnable wall.  He respected his oldest boy’s deep devotion to privacy, but there were times….

“Did you tell him Hoss and Little Joe will be back soon, and that he’s expected to join the family for dinner?’

“Mistah Adam says he knows and will be there.”

Ben dropped his hand to his side as a gentle inner voice reminded him that he needed to exercise patience.  He wasn’t sure which of his late wives it was, but he had a good idea!  Things had been off-kilter in their home for the last few days.  Their current foreman, Hawkins Walling, had volunteered to escort Hoss and Little Joe on their journey north to deliver Christmas presents to a few of the Ponderosa’s tenants, so both boys were gone.  In the meantime he’d come down with a cold.  When he found out about it, Adam declared he didn’t want to catch it and disappeared into his room.  He’d seen the twenty-one year old…maybe…two times since.  The result of all of this was one very irate Hop Sing who did nothing but complain that there was no one to eat his food and he might as well go back to China!

Sigh.

Come hell or high water – or obstinate sons – tonight they were all going to sit down together and eat as a family!  Ben eyed the Asian man standing next to him.  Hop Sing was tapping his toe.  There was no steam coming out of his ears.

Yet.

Ben raised his hand and rapped – gently.

A chair slid back.  Something hit the floor. There was a scuffling noise and then footsteps.

“What is it, Pa?”

“Your door is locked,” Ben huffed.  His boys knew he did not approve of their doors being locked – for innumerous reasons.

A pause.  Then.  “It’s Christmas.”

“I know its Christmas.  Well, it’s almost Christmas.”  Actually it was Christmas Eve day.  “I’m not sure that’s an adequate excuse for locking yourself away.”

“I’m…”  Another pause.  “I’m working on something.”

“Working on what?” Ben demanded.

Adam didn’t whine – at least not on an ordinary day.  So whatever this was it must be out of the ordinary.

“Ah, Pa….  Can’t you give a fellow a break?  It’s Christmas!”

The rancher sighed.  “I expect you at supper.”

“I’ll….”  Footsteps again.  Retreating. “…be there….”

“Six o’clock sharp!”  Ben glanced at Hop Sing, who nodded vehemently.  “You brothers will be home by then.”

“Seven,” his son said.  “Got it.”

“Six!”

“Six.  Sure, Pa.  See you…then….”

Ben pursed his lips as he struggled with what the angel voice in his head clearly defined as ‘unreasonable’ anger.  Since the boy’s return from college Adam had been…well…frankly different.  Where before his level-headed, sure-of-himself, more than capable son had been given to brief bouts of reverie, now it seemed he lived in a world of words with briefer bouts of practicality.

Hop Sing shook his head.  “Mistah Adam builds a tower in the sky.”

“If that means the boy has his head in the clouds these days, I completely agree!”  The rancher threw his hands in the air.  “Enough money to fund a cattle drive and what do I get for it?  A daydreamer!”

“Could be Mistah Adam’s dreams come true one day,” the Asian man added, his tone slightly scolding.

He looked sharply at Hop Sing.

“Tell that to the cows!”

*****

Adam was in his seat at the dining table at 6:00.  He’d expected the boy to be chagrinned.  Instead, he was distracted.

He was distracted too.  Hoss and Little Joe were overdue.

Hours overdue.

“Mister Ben want Hop Sing wait more before he serve food?”

Ben wasn’t at the table.  He was at the door – again – staring out into the night.  What he saw this time troubled him.  Where before there had been flurries, now a heavy snow had begun to fall.  It had fallen so silently they’d been unaware of it.  It was already inches deep.

“Mister Hawk take good care of boys,” the Asian man said.  “He grow up in wild.”

Hawkins or Hawk Wallings was a bit of an enigma.  One of the other hands had recommended him, but other than that he came to the Ponderosa seemingly empty-handed.  The man had a keen, shrewd way about him, often sensing peril before it arrived.  He’d heard rumors Hawk was at least half-Paiute and had felt confident placing his two younger sons in his care.

Had that been a mistake?

“What Mistah Ben want Hop Sing do?’

Oh, yes.  There had been a question.

“Let’s wait a bit longer,” he said and added – mostly to convince himself, “I’m sure the boys will show up soon.  There!”

The worried father’s heart leapt with joy at the sound of horses’ hooves striking the packed earth of the trail that led to the house – only to clench with fear at the absence of the telltale rumble of a wagon’s wheels afterward.  Ben stepped outside and into what had become a wintry tempest.  The wind had picked up; driving what snow already lay on the ground into the air to mix with the fresh precipitation.  He could barely make out the riders who had halted a few feet away from him and dismounted.  The pair exchanged a few words before one headed for the barn to stable their animals and the other came his way.

The fear he felt?

It intensified as he recognized Deputy Sheriff Roy Coffee.

Ben stepped out of the way and then followed his friend into the foyer.  Roy was enveloped in snow from the owlish tips of his bushy brows to the toes of his well-worn boots.  When the lawman removed his hat, the action created a cascade of the white stuff that sent Hop Sing running for a broom.

“It’s colder than a privy seat on the shady side of an iceberg out there!” he declared.

“Has it been snowing hard for very long?” the rancher asked.  “I looked an hour or so ago and it was just flurries.”

“The storm came out of nowhere like a dust devil on a calm day!” the lawman declared.  He blew out a breath as he stamped his feet and sent more snow flying.  “I’m tellin’ you, Ben, I ain’t seen anythin’ like it since the winter of 1847!”

“Why are you here?” Ben asked bluntly and then thought better of it.  “Forgive me, Roy.  I’m waiting on the boys to get back and admit I’m a bit nervous.  What is it brings you out in this kind of weather?”

“Like as not a man could get lost in it.”  Roy eyed him oddly as he stepped aside to avoid being swept up with the snow by Hop Sing’s broom.  “Sorry to say, most like I wouldn’t have come at all if I’d of known – even with what I have to tell you.”

Ben braced himself.  “And what do you have to tell me?”

Roy held his gaze.  “Seems a bright colored buckboard came into town this morning full of Christmas presents.”

Adam had moved to join them.  “That can’t be Hoss and Joe.  Weren’t they headed north?  Away from the settlement?”

Yes, they were.  But maybe they had changed their mind.  Maybe Little Joe talked his brother into visiting the growing town.  The boy had a charm that was hard to resist and this time of year, walked away from most every establishment with an armload of sweets and other presents – as well as cheeks that had turned bright red from being pinched.  Hoss had a girl he was sparking.  Maybe.

Hopefully….

“Did you talk to the boys?  Or to Hawk?”

Roy’s gaze held.  The look behind it softened.

“No.  Weren’t no one in it.”

*****

Snow on the floor forgotten, Hop Sing retreated into the kitchen and returned with a tray of hot coffee and cold cuts just as the man who had come with Roy appeared at the door.  Thom Burnett was a junior deputy and only a little older than Adam.  Ben managed to keep his pacing to a minimum as the two men warmed their insides and filled their bellies, though it was just about all he could do not to wear a rut in the floor by the door.

At last Roy put his cup down and ran a napkin over his mustache.  “Thank you, Hop Sing, and you, Ben.  I know it ain’t easy to wait for information.”  The lawman shook his head – this time the snow had melted and it didn’t fly.  “Trouble is, I ain’t got much of anythin’ to tell you.”

The aforementioned vehicle wasn’t their own.  Hoss and Little Joe had wanted something ‘festive’ for their St. Nick trip, so he’d had Hawk rent one from the livery.  It was a modified buckboard – sleek and fast – painted a brilliant green with red and white trim.  Little Joe had taken along a set of sleigh bells to adorn it.

There would be no mistaking that wagon.

“Was there any sign of…distress?” the worried father asked.

“The horses was lathered, like they’d spooked,” Thom remarked.  “Wasn’t anything else.”

So maybe the horses ran but there had been no accident?

Ben glanced out the window at the howling snow.

Even so – that still left Hawk and his young sons on foot in a tempest of white.

“All right,” he said. “So we can hope no one is hurt.  Could either of you tell from what direction the wagon had come?”

Roy nodded.  “Looked to have come out of the west.”

‘West’ of the settlement was where the Millers lived – in particular fifteen-year-old Elspeth Miller.

Adam’s thoughts had followed his own.  “Maybe they made a detour on the way home.  I know Hoss had something for Elspeth.”

“Your brother wasn’t in charge.  Hawk was and he should have known better,” the older man stated firmly.

“Yes, but…it’s….”  Adam’s sentence faded under his piercing gaze.  The rancher sighed.  He knew what the boy was about to say.

But it’s Christmas.

“Well, what is done is done.”  Ben turned to Hop Sing.  “Get our things ready.  We leave in an hour.  We’ll travel as far as we can tonight and start the search first thing in the morning.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Ben, you can’t do that!’  Roy declared.  “There ain’t no way you’re gonna be able to travel tonight.  You cain’t see your hand in front of your nose!”  The lawman paused for effect.  “You venture into that storm tonight and you’ll be just as lost as them boys of yours!”

“He wouldn’t be alone,” Adam stated flatly.

“Then you’d both be lost as lost as a calf in a hail storm!”  Roy glanced at the dining room window; now a curtain of white.  “Ain’t no one goin’ nowhere until the storm stops.”

“Maybe it will stop before morning,” his eldest said; his tone odd – as if, maybe, he knew something they didn’t.  “Could be it’s just a squall.”

“Well, now, that would be right nice!” Roy declared. “But there ain’t no way of knowin’ that unless you got God’s ear!”

Adam’s lips curled ever so slightly at the ends.

“Maybe I do.”

*****

Ben knew now what Adam had been hiding in his room – or he would have if he had had any idea what he was staring at.  The brass, glass and metal contraption looked something like a carousel, with jars for horses and a hot air balloon attached at the top.  Each jar contained an inch and a half of water and had a cork stopper.  An elegantly fashioned brass ring hung suspended above them from which a thin line ran to each.  At the heart of the curious apparatus was a long-necked black bottle upon which the balloonish top rested.

Weird as it was, strangest of all were the tiny black creatures the bottles held captive.

“Leeches?” he asked incredulous.

Roy scratched his head as he asked, “Just where’d you find leeches this time of year, boy?”

Adam cocked one ink-slash eyebrow.  “Leeches are remarkable creatures, well able to survive frigid temperatures that would kill a man.  They are less active in the winter, but they’re there if you know where to look – which is mostly close to the shore under rocks and in thick grasses.”

“You been out huntin’ ‘em?” the lawman queried.

His son cleared his throat and answered, with a quick glance at him.  “I went before I did my chores and after, since dawn and twilight were the best times to do so.”  Adam reached under the table and produced a large glass jar filled halfway with the wiggling, wriggling creatures.  “I caught more than I needed.  I had to find some way to pay for my research so what I haven’t used, I’ve sold to to…Doc… Martin….”  He paused, seemingly confused.  “Is there a problem?”

“Research?” Ben inquired.  “You’ve been researching leeches?  Whatever for?”

“My tempest prognosticator,” the boy replied as if those two words explained everything.

He exchanged a look with Roy.

“Your what?” the lawman asked.

Adam placed a hand on top of the odd-looking device.  “My tempest prognosticator.  It’s…well….”  He looked abashed.  “Merry Christmas, Pa.  It was going to be a surprise.”

Ben’s dark brows peaked.  “For me?  And just what may I ask would I do with a ‘tempest prognosticator??”

“A great deal!  It’s also known as a leech barometer.  Dr. George Merryweather invented it in 1821.  During his experiments Dr. Merryweather noted that medicinal leeches displayed a high measure of sensitivity in reaction to electrical conditions of the rain in the atmosphere.”  Adam continued; his zeal showing.  “He was inspired by two lines from a poem by Edward Jenner. Pa!   ‘The leech disturbed is newly risen; Quite to the summit of his prison.’”  He pointed to each jar in turn.  “The twelve leeches live in the bottles.  When they become agitated by an approaching storm, they attempt to climb out of the bottles.  At the top they trigger a small hammer which strikes the bell in the tower.”  Adam sounded the bell with a flick of his finger.  “The likelihood of a storm is indicated by the number of times the bell is struck.”

Roy leaned in and pointed as well.  “Seems to me your prognosticator ain’t workin’, boy.  Them leeches look like they’re plum wore out.”

Ben had to agree.  Each of the captive creatures languished on the circular bottom of their glass cage.

“But what if it is?”  His son’s eyes went wide.  “Don’t you see?  Earlier, of a sudden, they all descended. That’s a clear indicator that the storm is going to be short-lived!”

Clear.

Ben stifled his sigh.

The boy did have a way with words.

Roy was not convinced.

“Now, listen here, Adam!  You ain’t gonna risk your life and your pa’s life on some kind of hocus-pocus high-falutin’ thinker’s nonsense, not if I have anythin’ to say about it!”  He snorted.  “Them little critters don’t know what weather’s comin’ any more than Old Pete’s big toe!”

That would be the big toe ‘Old Pete’ lost in the last war.

But that was another story.

So far Ben had remained silent.

He was still trying to come to terms with a leech prognosticator as his Christmas present.

“It’s science, Deputy Roy!” Adam protested.  “Think about it!  One day people won’t have to look to old wives tails to predict the weather!”  His son’s intense gaze settled on him.  “Just think of the applications for the ranch, Pa.  We’ll know when to bring the herd in and when not to send them out.  Imagine being able to predict whether or not a mudslide or avalanche is likely….”

His next sentence was almost a cry.

“Or whether we can leave now to search for Hoss and Little Joe because the storm is almost over.”

Ben read the plea in his son’s hazel eyes.  It was not so much, ‘trust Dr, Merryweather’ as ‘trust me.’  The rancher’s gaze dropped to one of the prognosticator’s gruesome inhabitants.  Its solid muscular form undulated but did not move.  His gaze moved from it to travel up the side of the jar in which it was imprisoned to the small tube it would enter.  Suspended at the top of the tube was a tiny piece of whalebone.  Dislodging it apparently rang the bell and signaled a storm was on its way.  The thing was beyond his understanding.

As it seemed his eldest had moved beyond his understanding.

Ben chuckled to himself.  “You’d be pleased, Elizabeth,’ he thought.  “I’ve made the boy strong enough he doesn’t need me.  Now, to accept my success.”

He sought his son’s anxious gaze.  “You believe in this?”

“I do, sir.  I’d stake my life on its accuracy.”

“You’ll be staking more than that,” Ben replied, his tone warning.  “You’ll be staking all our lives.”

On twelve bugs in bottles.

I must be mad.

“I know that, Pa.  But I believe in the science.”

“Them little bugs foretellin’ the weather?  Pshaw!  Seems like bookish nonsense to me,” Roy Coffee grumbled.

Adam was affronted.  “Begging your pardon, Deputy Coffee, but in the first half of this century we ‘bookish fools’ have brought the world railroads and steamboats, the threshing machine; the telegraph; sewing machines, cotton gins and more!  These inventions have made life easier – and safer – for men, women and children, and the men of science are only getting started!  Who knows what is next?”

Ben glanced at the jars.

The leeches were lethargic as ever.

“So,” he nodded at the little bugs. “This means it’s safe to set out tonight to look for your brothers?’

Adam paled just a bit.  Then, he nodded.

*****

They started out that night, heading west and following the road.  Not long into their journey Ben decided he was as mad as a two-headed calf for putting his trust in a dozen sluggish invertebrates!  The snowstorm worsened as they traveled, growing so intense they were forced to make camp. Then, just as the sun topped the snow-capped peaks around them, the storm moved out.

In the end, the tempest prognosticator turned out to be the best Christmas present he’d ever received!

They were safe; all three of them – Hoss, Little Joe and Hawk.  As they splinted Hawk’s broken leg the man explained that a large rabbit – clad in its winter coat of white – had appeared from out of nowhere to dash across the road and spooked the horses.  He’d attempted to control them and been thrown from the driver’s seat, resulting in the break.  The boys had alighted to help Hawk and during that time the horses had run away – taking the jolly wagon with them!  Due to his injury the trio had been forced to hunker down in a hastily erected shelter to wait for rescue.

Instead of venturing out in the midst of a blinding snowstorm in a vain attempt to get home.

All three were weary, cold, and hungry, but they were alive!

*****

They were home now – all of them.  Ben sat on the settee thinking about – and giving thanks for – the irreplaceable gifts all three of his wives had given him.  Marie’s gift lay next to him; his tousled head nestled in the crook of one arm.  Little Joe had fairly exploded with excitement upon seeing them and chattered about their grand adventure all the way to the Ponderosa.  It was only after they’d settled in that the full impact of what they had lived through hit the boy and Joseph fell apart.  Hoss had been, and remained quiet.  Inger’s son was old enough to know how quickly the tide could have turned.  The teenager had just returned from the bunkhouse.  He’d insisted on checking on Hawk.  Hoss reported that the older man was doing well and sent his Christmas Day greetings to them all.

Ben brushed a curl from his youngest’s forehead before glancing at his eldest son.  Adam was seated by the fire.  All you could see above the book he was holding was a shock of black hair.  They’d opened their gifts a few hours before.  All three boys had been delighted, but Adam most of all.

In his hands the boy held the latest and most up-to-date encyclopedia of scientific knowledge available.

Ben chuckled to himself as he ruffled his youngest’s hair in preparation for waking him and taking him to bed.  It seemed Dr. George Merryweather’s tempest prognosticator would never see the light of day.  According to the encyclopedia, even though his leech barometer was a proven success, Merryweather had been outfoxed by another ‘bookish fool’.  The English doctor had lobbied for the government to make use of his design around the British coastline, but they opted instead for Robert FitzRoy’s storm glass.

Saving God knew how many leeches from incarceration.

*****

END

Link to Day 12 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – Peace on Earth by AC1830