Summary:  Christmastime without a Christmas tree threatens Virginia City.
Rating:  G   5,370 words

Written for the 2024 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 18 *

An Electrifying Christmas

Ben took a deep draw on his pipe and looked about the room with Sabbath satisfaction.  Nothing he enjoyed more than a quiet Sunday afternoon with his sons, and he tried to make it a weekly affair.  It wasn’t always possible, of course.  The Ponderosa was a big ranch, and it often had big needs that couldn’t wait.  The animals, especially, didn’t know one day from another and couldn’t be expected to recognize a man’s need for rest and revitalization for the week ahead.  This mid-November Sunday, however, was all he could have wished.  Adam was lost in a new book, while Hoss appeared absorbed in the latest issue of Manufacturer and Builder.  It was Adam who actually subscribed to the magazine, but his younger brother regularly confiscated it once Adam had read it cover to cover.

“Pa!”  Little Joe’s insistent voice held a hint of whine that immediately brought his father’s attention to him.  “It’s your move.”

“Sorry, son,” Ben said.  “I was woolgathering.”  Goodness knew, he had plenty of time for that when he played chess with his youngest son.  The fifteen-year-old wasn’t yet proficient with the game and could be depended on to study the board at length before hazarding a move.  Generally, Little Joe and Hoss played checkers each Sunday afternoon, but with Hoss unavailable today, Ben had insisted on the more challenging game because he wanted that extra time between moves for peaceful reflection.  If he were honest, he had also insisted on chess because Little Joe was entirely too adept at checkers, and he didn’t relish losing to the young whippersnapper.  Little Joe was also a dexterous cheater, and Ben didn’t want to encourage that sort of behavior; nor did he wish to squander his parental energy by keeping constant lookout for it.  He quickly discerned the correct move to counter the one the boy had made, but he wrinkled his forehead as if in deep thought.  He didn’t want his youngest to feel discouraged about his lower level of skill, so he delayed making the actual move.  His hand was just reaching for the rook when with a sudden (and most uncharacteristic) explosion of energy, Hoss erupted from his end of the settee.

“That’s it!” Hoss cried as he headed for the door.

“What?” asked Ben, while Little Joe echoed the word and Adam blinked at the unwelcome interruption of his own reading.

By this time Hoss was at the door, thrusting his arms into his warm leather jacket.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I gotta see the reverend right quick.”  He was out the door before anyone could get out the word, “Why?”

“Hoss must’ve done some powerful sinning if he needs the preacher that sudden-like,” Little Joe opined.  He was, after all, already put out with Hoss for choosing that fool magazine over losing another game of checkers to him.

“Sin’s more your territory, isn’t it?” Adam asked coolly, which earned him an outthrust tongue in response.

“Do you have any idea what might be in that magazine to inspire a sudden visit with Reverend Abrams?”  Ben directed the question toward his eldest son.

“No,” Adam said.  He leaned over to recover the magazine Hoss had dropped to the floor and flipped through the pages.  Then, shaking his head, he laid it on the table before the settee.  “Nothing there to inspire religious conviction, near as I can see.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait ‘til he gets home, I guess,” Ben said.  He slid the rook into place.  “Your move, Little Joe.”

Little Joe sighed.  “You sure you wouldn’t rather play checkers, Pa?”

“I’m sure, son.”  Ben reached for his pipe and took another long, peace-filled draw.

*****

The next morning Little Joe thundered down the stairs, yelling, “Pa!  Hoss didn’t come home last night!”

“I’m well aware of that, Joseph,” his father said from the head of the breakfast table.

“Ain’t you worried?” Joe demanded.  “He was out all night, Pa!”

“He’s a big boy,” Adam offered from his place opposite their father.

“Yes, he is,” Ben said with as much calm as he could.  Big boy or not, Hoss was still his son, and he did tend to fret over unexplained absences.  His middle boy usually had good reason for his, however, and that earned him some leeway.  “As late as it was, he probably spent the night with the Thomases,” he offered as a probable explanation.

“Yeah, maybe,” Little Joe said as he slid into his seat to Ben’s right.  “Maybe not, though.  Maybe I ought to ride into town and check, huh?”

Adam cleared his throat.  “Have you forgotten what day it is?” he asked with a suggestively arched eyebrow.

Little Joe scowled in Adam’s direction and asked again, “You think I ought to check, Pa?”

“Answer your brother’s question first,” Ben said, his own eyebrow arching in the same manner as Adam’s.

Little Joe sighed.  “I know it’s Monday, but maybe . . .”

“But maybe you belong in school on a Monday morning,” Ben stated flatly.  “Isn’t that what you were about to say, Joseph?”

“Not exactly,” Little Joe muttered, slumping in his chair.

“Well, I think that’s exactly where you need to be, instead of galivanting off to town, young man, so eat your breakfast and be on your way.”

“Aw, Pa,” Little Joe whined and then winced at the narrowed gaze his father riveted on him.  He reached for the platter of bacon and reluctantly began to pile his plate.  Perhaps in hope his father would change his mind, he dawdled through breakfast, but finally managed to get out the door, saddle up and head for the nearby Franktown school only a few minutes later than he should.

Once the boy had cleared the room, Adam looked up at his father and asked, “Would you like me to ride into town and check on Hoss?”

Ben shook his head.  “As you said, he’s a big boy, and I think I have to show him some respect.  If he’s not home by noon, however . . .”

“I’ll go looking,” Adam promised.  “He can’t be praying over his sins that long,” he added with a wink and Ben joined him in a chuckle.  Whatever Hoss was up to, neither one of them thought it had a thing to do with sin.  Adam might bend rules and regulations in a just cause, and Little Joe definitely would, whether the cause was just or not, but not Hoss, Ben’s most reliable son.

*****

Hoss barely made that noon deadline.  Ben heard him ride up and couldn’t resist going out to meet him.  “Pa, I’m sorry ‘bout the way I left,” the big man, looking more like a guilty little boy, said.  “I reckon I just got excited and didn’t think things through.”

Adam came out of the barn, where he had been on the point of saddling up and starting to search for his errant brother.  “Well, well, the lost has returned, I see, no doubt with a colorful explanation of everything.”

“Huh!” Hoss snorted.  “I ain’t Joe, older brother.”

Adam shrugged.  “So, it’ll be a little less colorful, but just as fascinating, I’m sure.”

“Well, I hope so,” Hoss said, “but if you fellas don’t mind, I’d like to save it until Shortshanks gets here, ‘cause I’m gonna need all your help to pull this off.”

It was on the tip of Adam’s tongue to ask what “this” was, but Ben held up a silencing hand.  “That’ll be fine, son,” he told his middle boy.  “I’m sure we’ll all be interested.  In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find some chores that need attention.”

“Aren’t there always?” Adam said with a pointed roll of his eyes.

Lest their father come up with something worse, the two older Carwright brothers managed to find enough chores needing attention close to home to occupy themselves until the youngest rode in from school.  Little Joe flew off his horse to practically engulf Hoss in his best imitation of a bear hug.

Hoss returned it with one more resembling the real thing.  “Sorry I worried you, Shortshanks.”  Adam had filled him in on the conversation at the breakfast table.

Little Joe attempted to shrug off his previous concern.  “Aw, I wasn’t worried; I just wanted a trip to town.”

“Don’t let Pa hear you say that,” Hoss, not fooled for a minute, warned.

His little brother flapped a negating hand toward his older brothers.  “‘Course not.  So’d you confess all your sins?”

“No, but he’s about to,” Adam put in drily.

“Huh?” said Hoss, both his brothers’ attempts at humor having sailed straight over his head.

“The explanation you promised,” Adam explained.  He made a flourishing hand gesture toward the house.  “Time to face the music, boy.”

The three brothers moved toward the house, and soon the entire family was gathered around the dining table, where Hop Sing had Little Joe’s usual after-school treat laid out and waiting.  Having sensed that there would be more hungry mouths than usual, the cook had prepared a larger platter of cookies and provided coffee, along with the hot chocolate Little Joe preferred on chilly afternoons.  Hoss opted for that, as well.

The two coffee-drinkers intended to give Hoss whatever time he needed to fuel up, but Little Joe only made it through half a cookie before ordering his big brother to “‘fess up.”  For once, no one rebuked his impatience.  Curiosity was about to eat them alive, as well.

“Yeah,” Hoss said with a half-sigh as he set aside the second cookie he’d just lifted toward his mouth.  “Well, you remember how the reverend said there wouldn’t be no Christmas tree at the church this year on account of what happened at the party for the young’uns last year.”

“Yeah,” Little Joe said, voice edged with disappointment.  “Still say that was going too far.  It was just a little fire, and we got it put out right away, no harm done.  Well, not much, anyway.”  The final remark was in response to the skeptical stares directed at this astounding evaluation of the event.

“Unless you count children screaming, people stampeding for the door, a burnt offering of all the presents on the tree,” Adam observed.  “Shall I continue?”

Little Joe shook his head.  “No, but I still say weren’t no call to cancel the whole thing.  We’d take extra precautions this year, and the kids’ll be plumb disappointed if there’s no tree.”

“Especially the ones of—oh, say—your age?” Adam suggested, lips tickling between a smirk and a chuckle.

Hoss held both palms toward his brothers to get their attention back on the important news he was about to deliver.  “Nobody’s gonna be disappointed this year,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face as he continued, “I showed the reverend a way to . . .”

“Have our tree and eat it, too?” Adam quipped.

Momentarily confused, Hoss said, “Well, I reckon there will be the usual cookies and candy on the tree.”  Then he realized Adam was just teasing him and waved away the distraction.  “The point is there’ll be a tree and . . .”

“Hurray!” Little Joe shouted.

“And,” Hoss said, elongating the word with raised voice and glowering eyes “there won’t be no danger of fire.”

“No candles?” Little Joe said, his face drooping.  At another glower from Hoss, he quickly said, “Well, I guess that’s better than no tree at all.  Sure won’t be as—as magical, though.”

“The magic’ll be there, Joseph,” Hoss assured his brother, “and lights, too . . . just not candles.”

Adam folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.  “And this, I presume, is where Manufacturer and Builder comes in.”

“Yeah!” Hoss declared with wide-grinned enthusiasm.  “You figured it out!”

“Uh, not quite,” Adam said.

“Nor have I,” Ben said, finally taking the reins of the conversation.  “Now, Hoss, I want you to explain exactly what is going on . . .”

“And what that confounded magazine’s got to do with it,” Little Joe added, his voice fading as his father turned to glare at him.

“Preferably as simply as possible,” Ben continued, “without side trips or interruptions.”  The firm statement was accompanied by an admonishing look that settled on each son in succession.

Adam acknowledged it with a nod, Little Joe cowered back in his seat, and Hoss gulped and took a deep breath before plunging in.  “Well, I did get the idea from the confounded magazine, Joseph,” he began, irritated enough to give one prod in return for the guff he’d been taking.  Seeing his father’s eyebrow move upward, he hurried on.  “See, there’s this invention . . .”

“Oh, no!” Little Joe couldn’t resist groaning.  “Not another invention.”

“Joseph,” Ben said in warning.  “I said no interruptions.”

Adam started to remind his father that he’d only said “preferably,” but decided keeping his head on his shoulders might warrant keeping that detail to himself.

“I know, Pa,” Little Joe protested, “but you know how he is about inventions.  Remember the gun that shoots around corners?”

Ben sighed.  “Well, yes.  I assume, Hoss, we’re not talking about anything that dangerous.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Hoss hastened to say.  “Nothin’ like that at all.  And this here’s a tried-and-true invention, been around since the 1830s, not some Johnny-come-lately like that fool gun.”

“Good,” Ben said.  “Continue, son.”

While the preceding conversation had been going on, Adam had been running his mind over the articles he had read in the “confounded magazine.”  “The electric dynamo?” he asked tentatively.

Hoss beamed at him.  “Yeah!  That’s it.  You did figure it out.”

“I still haven’t,” Ben said.  “Would one of you care to enlighten me and your younger brother?”  His taut voice clearly said that one of them had better . . . and soon.

“Well, Adam could probably explain the science better’n me,” Hoss began.

“Anything but that,” Little Joe muttered.  A look from his father quailed him, at least momentarily.

“Yeah, well, like I was sayin’, there’s this invention called an electric dynamo that makes—well—electricity.”

Little Joe favored him with a blank stare, and Hoss sent a plea for help in Adam’s direction.

“Power,” Adam said.  “It creates a source of power, serving the same purpose as the gas lighting they have in the big cities back east, but safer since there’s no flame.”

“Exactly!” Hoss exclaimed.

“We don’t even have gas lighting in Virginia City,” Ben pointed out, “much less this electric . . . whatever.”

“Dynamo,” Hoss and Adam said in unison, with Adam adding, directly to Hoss, “How do you plan to get around that little problem?”

“Well, see, Adam, that’s where you come in.”  Hoss’s head bobbed vigorously in expectant hope.  “I was kind of hopin’ you could build one.  Not a big one, mind, just the right size to light the tree.  I done ordered these small lights, like they showed in the magazine and the other parts it said we’d need.”  He turned toward his father.  “That’s why I stayed over, ‘cause the telegraph was closed last night, but everything’s taken care of now.”

“It would be a challenge,” Adam said.  Everyone else in the room, including the cook eavesdropping from the kitchen doorway, could hear the edge of excitement in his voice at the enticement of a new challenge, and they were all fully confident that he could meet it.

Hoss spoke for the others.  “Aw, you can do it, Adam, and the kids’ll love it.”

“And Reverend Abrams has agreed to this?” Ben inquired, his brow wrinkling.

“Yes, sir.”  Then Hoss’s honest nature made him add, “That is, if it works.  We got to set it up early and show ‘im everything’s in working order before he gives us the final go-ahead, but I just know we can do it.  Well, mostly I mean Adam, but I’ll help out, if’n you tell me what to do, older brother, and there’s even ways you can help, Shortshanks!”

Little Joe waved both hands before his face.  “Oh, no, leave me out of this.”

To keep the peace, Ben said, “We’ll leave it to the older boys for now, and if there are ways that I or Little Joe can help make a merrier Christmas for the children, I’m sure we’ll be glad to.”

Little Joe smiled back weakly.  He wasn’t feeling glad about this whole project, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t safe to say that to, well, any of the others.

*****

As the project took shape over the next few weeks after the parts arrived, Hoss and Adam grew steadily more enthusiastic.  Ben began to feel the excitement, too, but Little Joe remained harder to convince.  If it worked, he’d be happy for the sake of the children, but otherwise, he insisted, it had nothing to do with him.  “Just so it don’t turn out like that gun that didn’t shoot around corners,” he insisted.  “We was just lucky nobody got killed when that thing exploded with the bullet still inside.”  No one could argue with that, and no one could guarantee this invention would work any better, at least not to the skeptical boy’s satisfaction.

Finally, Hoss and Adam declared it finished and unveiled it with a flourish.  “See?” Hoss said proudly.  “You just sit here on that flat seat and turn them paddles with your feet, and you gets electricity!  That goes through these here wires to the lights on the tree and, well, magic happens.”

“How you figure to get them long legs of yours to turn any pedals in that cramped a space?”  Little Joe cackled at his brother’s obvious mistake.  “Surprised the engineer here didn’t think of that.”

“There’s plenty of room,” the engineer insisted.

“Aw, come on, Adam,” Little Joe scoffed.  “Even your legs won’t fit in that space, much less Hoss’s.”

Adam sported a positively wicked grin.  “But yours will.”

“Me!”  Little Joe’s jaw dropped halfway to the floor.  “I done told you I didn’t want anything to do with that fool invention, didn’t I, Pa?”

“I do seem to recall that, boys,” Ben pointed out.

“Aw, Joe,” Hoss wheedled.  “You didn’t mean that, did ya?  Why, you’re the onliest one who can do it.”

“I’m the onliest one that ain’t gonna do it!” Little Joe shouted.

“Just a minute, son,” Ben said, patting the air in conciliatory fashion.  “Let’s try to sort this out.  Hoss, I must say, you seem to have sized this machine with your little brother clearly in mind.”

“Well, Adam built it,” Hoss said.  It seemed like a prudent time to deflect attention from himself.

It worked.  Ben swiveled toward his oldest son, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.  “Well?”

“Pa, of course, this device was designed to accommodate our young brother here,” Adam said, as if nothing could be more elementary.  “He is the obvious best choice to supply the force that generates the power.”

“Huh!”  The single explosive syllable came from Little Joe.

Ben calmed him with a light hand on the upper arm, but he was looking at Adam as he asked, “And how do you reason that, exactly?”

“Simple logic,” Adam said with a shrug.  “Who in this family has energy to burn, on any given day?”  He swept a hand toward his youngest brother.

A chuckle twinkled at Ben’s mouth, but he contained it.  “Well, he does have a point, Joseph.”

“That don’t mean I want to use it on some fool invention,” Little Joe declared with outthrust lip.

Ben placed his palm over his heart and a look of incredulity on his face.  “You don’t want to keep the children of our community safe, Joseph?  You want a repeat of last year’s fiasco?”

“Of course not, Pa,” Little Joe protested, “but, well . . .oh, shoot!”  From the triumphant looks both his brothers were sporting and the conspiratory one on Pa’s face, he figured this battle was lost before it started.  “I guess, since I’m the best man for the job, I’m gonna have to pull your bacon out of the fire again!” Little Joe announced, and with an exaggerated flounce of his chestnut mane, he stormed off to bed.

“Did anyone say ‘man’?” Adam asked with a smirk.

Hoss let out his trademark guffaw, but squelched it at the sight of Ben’s face.

“For the record,” Ben said, “I think it was a mean trick to keep him in the dark about your plans until the last minute, but as it is the last minute, I don’t want to see your hard work go for naught . . . or the children disappointed.  Besides, it’ll do Little Joe good to think of someone besides himself for a change.”

“Exactly why we did it,” Adam made the mistake of saying.

Ben stabbed his index finger straight at his oldest son’s impudent nose.  “You”—he then thrust the accusing finger in Hoss’s direction—“and you,” he said, “will come up with some substantial reward for your young brother’s help in this project he wanted nothing to do with!”

Adam opened his mouth to say something, but evidently deciding against whatever smart remark had tickled his fertile brain, he said a simple, “Yes, sir,” instead, and Hoss quickly echoed it.

*****

The next day the three Cartwright brothers went into Virginia City to demonstrate to Reverand Abrams the beauty and practical safety of the tree-lighting project.     The good pastor could not have been more pleased, and he waxed eloquent in his praise of the three young men who had made it possible to have a tree after all.  “And now we can have the tree lighted for the whole service, can we not?” he enthused.

“Sure can,” Hoss said, head bobbing and wide grin spreading across his face.

Little Joe gulped.  “The whole service?”  Of course, the lighted tree and the kids’ faces when they got their gifts was the best part each year, and he was bound to miss most of that anyway.

“No problem,” Hoss reiterated, oblivious to his little brother’s dismay.  He stayed oblivious just long enough for the brothers to get outside, where he soon heard Little Joe’s opinion of the time added to his sentence on those accursed pedals.

“Aw, whatcha bellyachin’ about?” Hoss said.  “You’re gettin’ rewarded.”

“Rewarded?”  A spark of interest lit Little Joe’s eyes.  Then, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.  “How?”

“Why, with the satisfaction of a clear conscience, of course,” Adam said, winking at Hoss over Joe’s head.  “What more could you ask?”

“A trip to the Sazerac?” Little Joe suggested, the spark returning.

“Not on your life!” Adam hooted.  “None of us plans to spend Christmas dead!  And I can assure you Pa would see to our swift and certain demise if we so much as let you darken that door.”

Hoss cackled in agreement.  “That’s for dad gum sure!”

The fifteen-year-old could only shrug.  Some points were just inarguable.

*****

The church was packed on Christmas Eve.  Having arrived early, the Cartwrights had their choice of seats . . . well, with one exception.  As Little Joe surveyed his place for the program, his disgruntled mouth set even harder as he pointed to the bed sheet separating his part of the stage from the audience and everything else.  “What’s that for?” he demanded of Hoss, who he considered the author of all his problems.

“I reckon the reverend decided it was best if the kids didn’t see how the magic was made,” Hoss said sheepishly.

“I won’t even get to see the tree all lighted up!” Little Joe hissed.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Joe.”  He clamped a strong-fingered hand on the boy’s scrawny shoulder.  “Now, I know you got reason to be mad, but you ain’t gonna sabotage things, just to get back at me, are you?”

Little Joe expelled a gust of disgusted air.  “No, I ain’t.  If it was just you bein’ bothered, I might, but I ain’t so mean as to spoil the kids’ Christmas.”

Hoss’s iron grip transformed into a consoling pat.  “I know you ain’t,” he said, “and I’ll make it up to you, Shortshanks, I promise.”

“Gonna take something pretty special,” Little Joe groused.

“I’ll think of something,” Hoss said.  It was all he could do not to bust out grinning, since he already knew what that something was and had a fair idea of how his little brother’s face would light up when he saw it.  “Well, I got to get out front.  Reverend wants me to make a speech ‘bout the tree-lightin’ and how safe it’ll be.”  He ran a finger inside his suddenly tight collar.

“If you’re wantin’ prayer, you’re askin’ the wrong person,” Little Joe said dryly as he took his seat on the machine.

“Yeah, reckon so,” Hoss said and disappeared on the other side of the curtain.

Little Joe looked toward the ceiling.  “You know I didn’t mean that, right?” he asked the Almighty.  “So, help him, okay?”  He put his feet on the pedals and began rotating them as Hoss stumbled through his blessedly brief explanation of how the magic of electricity would give them the safest Christmas tree ever seen in Virginia City.   He could hear the squeals of delight from the children and the oohs and ahhs of their parents when they saw the tree lights come on.  At least, he assumed they were on.  He couldn’t see a thing, and he thought that was the most unfair, unchristian thing he’d ever heard of.  Wasn’t there something in the Bible about not making an ox tread out grain without getting any hisself?

Recognizing that attitude for the sour grapes it was, he straightened up as the congregation began to sing Christmas carols.  He even tried to join in, but that lasted through about one verse of “Silent Night.” He just didn’t have enough breath for both singing and pedaling, and put-upon as he felt, he’d promised to do the job, so do it, he would!  He was able to enjoy Adam’s special solo, as he had ‘most every Christmas of his life.  Then, however, Reverend Abrams began his sermon, and that had its usual effect of making him drowsy.  He couldn’t afford to drift off, though, any more than he could on Sunday mornings with Pa sitting right beside him.  He had to keep pedaling and pedaling, fast as he could go, through the whole thing if the lights were to keep shining.  “Hope you appreciate this, big brother,” he muttered under his breath.

The sermon seemed to go on forever, and Little Joe felt himself sweating in his Sunday-best suit.  Since he only needed his feet to keep the power coming, he skinned out of the jacket and then the inhibiting string tie and, finally, even unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt.  He didn’t dare go further than that, ‘cause with his luck, about the time he stripped down enough to be comfortable, that curtain would decide to fall, and he’d get what-for from the rest of his family ‘til New Year’s Day—or maybe even Easter.

*****

“Waxing a little eloquent, isn’t he?” Adam, leaning into his father’s ear, whispered.

Ben shushed him as if he were a small boy, but gave a clandestine nod of agreement.  Their pastor had evidently been inspired by the new lights to speak, at length about Jesus as the Light of the World.  A worthy subject, certainly, but perhaps more effective with fewer words?  Then he frowned as the lights on the tree began to flicker.  “Oh, dear,” his whispered.  “I hope there’s not a problem.”

As Adam watched, the lights seemed to steady, but then the flickering began again.  “I think I know what the problem might be,” he said, slipping out of his seat.

“Think you can fix it?” his father asked.

“I am the engineer in the family,” Adam said with a wink.  He hurried behind the curtain, where as he had suspected, he found a drooping and panting little brother.  “Getting tired?” he asked.  It was almost a rhetorical question, for the kid looked done in.

“Yeah,” Little Joe huffed.  “Ain’t he ever gonna stop?”

“Probably by next Tuesday.  Slide off the other side.”

“I can’t!” Little Joe protested.  “The lights’ll go off, and I promised Hoss.”

“I’m taking your place,” Adam explained, “and I think we can make the transfer smoothly enough so it won’t disrupt the lights.”

“Honest?  I can quit?”

“You’ve done your share, little brother.  Now, on the count of three, slide off to the right.”

When Adam said, “Three,” Little Joe vacated the seat, while Adam swiftly took his place, put his feet on the moving pedals and soon had them in rhythm again.  There had probably been some brief flickering out in the auditorium, but Adam felt confident it wouldn’t cause too much concern.

“You gonna be okay?” Little Joe asked.  “It is kind of tight for them long legs of yours.”

“I’ll be fine.”  Adam gave a short, under-his-breath laugh.  “He’s got to run out of words soon.  You scoot on back to Pa.  He’s probably working up a fret by now—and for mercy’s sakes, put your clothes on!”

Little Joe looked abashed, as he had almost forgotten that necessity.  “Thanks!” he said as he hastily buttoned up and donned tie and jacket before slipping past the curtain.  He spotted his father and slipped into the pew beside him.

“You all right?” Ben whispered as he circled his son’s slim shoulders.

Little Joe rested his head on his father’s broader one.  “Just tired, but Adam took my place.  He’s a pretty decent brother, after all.”

“And Hoss?” Ben asked, cocking his head quizzically.

“Yeah, he’s okay, too,” Little Joe admitted.

“Good,” Ben said, tousling his youngest’s curls.  “I’m just blessed with good boys tonight.”

Little Joe grinned impishly.  “That’s ‘cause Santa’s comin’ soon.”

Ben’s hand lowered to the nape of the boy’s neck, as he gave him a slight shake for that impudence.

Almost as if he’d heard Joe’s words, the reverend drew his message to its welcome conclusion and announced the eminent arrival of Santa Claus himself.  Appropriately bearded and padded (though little was needed), Hoss appeared with a resounding, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” and began to distribute the gifts tied to the still beautifully lit tree.

“It is sure is pretty,” Little Joe sighed in satisfaction.  Now that his part was finished, he found himself feeling good about his part in tonight’s magic.  And since he was only fifteen, he even got his share of the candy tied to the tree, once the littler kids had theirs.

*****

The Cartwrights’ tree on Christmas morning was only adorned with plain, old-fashioned candles, but they enjoyed it just as much, in fact, more than the fancy, modern tree in town.  Mostly, that was because it was adorned with their favorite ornaments and topped with the familiar homemade angel.  The presents were opened and exulted over, and then Hoss excused himself to go outside.  Little Joe figured his big brother had just drunk too much punch and needed a trip to the outhouse, but before long Adam stood up and invited the boy to join him outside.  “Hoss and I have prepared a little reward for you, because of your help with our project,” he explained.

“Yeah?” Little Joe just naturally perked up at the hint of another present.  “Must be something big, if you gotta keep it outside.”

“Let’s just call it substantial,” Adam said with a wink at his twinkling-eyed father.

All three exited the house, and Little Joe gasped when he saw Hoss holding the reins of the most beautiful black-and-white pinto he’d ever seen.  “You’re kidding!” he shouted.  “You’re the best brothers ever!”

“Pa did the negotiating with Winnemucca,” Adam explained, “but otherwise, it’s from me and Hoss, in hopes you’ll forgive our rather cavalier enlistment of your help.”

“Oh, you’re forgiven!”  Eyes wide in wonder, Little Joe approached his new horse and began stroking its soft muzzle.

And ultimately, dear friends, isn’t the promise of forgiveness what Christmas is all about?  May yours be merry and bright with light (electric or otherwise).

The End

© December, 2024

The Scripture to which Little Joe refers is Deuteronomy 25:4—“You must not muzzle an ox to keep it from eating as it treads out the grain.” (NIV)

Link to day 19 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – So, This is Christmas by BluewindFarm