A bright morning sun sparkled off the white snow, creating a beautiful scene against the blue winter sky. Tall, green Ponderosa pines filled the landscape to tower majestically over the dark haired man trudging along the trail. He carefully led a packhorse behind him as he wound his way cautiously up the hill, stopping only for a moment to catch his breath. Joe Cartwright turned to look down at the ranch house below him, watching as a thin string of smoke rose from the massive chimney, testament to the warm fire burning inside. For a moment, he fervently wished himself back there, warmly nestled on the wide hearth in front of that cozy blaze. But Little Joe quickly pushed that feeling aside. He had a job to do, and by golly, he was going to do it.

The last few weeks had been a nightmare of storms and sickness on the Ponderosa Ranch. At one time or another, every member of the Cartwright family, along with each of the ranch hands, had been stricken with influenza. With the trails already treacherous from a series of winter storms that had come early to the Sierras, they had been wary about sending for Paul Martin, and in the end, it had been up to HopSing to tend the sick. The men had worked as a team to help each other, but the Cartwright’s were relieved that the crew was a small one. After the fall roundup, the extra hands had been dismissed, leaving only the regulars to winter over.

Joe had been one of the first to succumb to the illness, and his father had worried over him until he himself was sent to his bed with a fever. One by one, in quick succession, the other brothers, and then the ranch hands, followed suit. But being the first down, Joe found himself the first to be up and about after the symptoms passed. Weak as a newborn kitten at first, he filled his days with reading to his father or playing checkers with Hoss. Within a short time, his young body responded to HopSing’s healthy ministrations, and Joe soon found himself working along the Chinamen to help care for the others.

While his father and brothers fought their illness upstairs, Little Joe carried water, chopped wood, changed bedding and assisted HopSing with all manner of necessary chores. Had Ben been up and around, it was certain that he’d be worried about the amount of work his youngest son was left with, not that the nineteen year old wasn’t capable, but simply because the youth had not been out of his sickbed that long himself.

Another storm came and went while the men struggled to regain their health, and during all that time, there had been no complaints from Joe. Had anyone been well enough to notice, they would have seen that he was unusually preoccupied. Even HopSing, with his multitude of tasks, didn’t pick up on the young man’s change in attitude.

The winter weather was something they were used to on the Ponderosa. Set high in the Sierra’s, it wasn’t unusual to experience heavy snows, and the men who stayed on the ranch were familiar with the long stretches between trips to Virginia City. When the first storm had rumbled through in November leaving several feet of snow in its wake, the Cartwrights had made their plans accordingly, and on their last visit to town, had each stowed their Christmas secrets in different parts of the wagon. But as the holiday drew closer, Joe knew there was one part of the tradition that was in jeopardy of being missed.
With most of the men still in bed, or at least confined indoors, no one had talked about the annual venture to find the perfect Christmas tree.

Joe couldn’t imagine the holiday without a tree adorning the space at the foot of the stairs, and he continued to worry about it as the days passed. Unknown to the rest of the family, Little Joe associated special memories of his mother with this particular holiday. For some reason, she always seemed a little closer, her face more vivid in his memory during the Christmas season. Each year, he would sit on the settee, inhaling the pungent scent of the pine tree. Then, with eyes closed, he could almost ‘see’ his mother as she decorated the tree, heard her skirts rustling as she bustled around the room, her arms laden with packages. Joe’s favorite was the memory of her touch as she leaned over him for a gentle kiss upon his forehead. He wondered how many of these things had really happened; were they memories or merely dreams of what she’d been like? But through the years, he’d never asked his father or brothers; unwilling, perhaps, to lose the wonderful feeling that came along with those thoughts of his mother. And so he had vowed to find a tree on his own. It was the only way that Christmas would be complete.

Joe could imagine his pa’s voice, reprimanding him for making such a trek alone, given the weather and his recent illness. But there was no one to help him. Pa, Adam and Hoss were still down, along with some of the hands. Old Bill was up and about, but the old-timer was pretty definite about staying close to home in the winter. It was something of an unwritten agreement that the man would spend his winter months by the stove, mending harness and other menial tasks. Joe knew that Bill was getting up there in years, and was reluctant to ask for his help. Then there was Martin. He’d been out of bed almost as long as Joe had, but the man was nothing less than crotchety. He’d been with the Cartwrights for years, but Little Joe had learned, long ago, that you didn’t bother the man around the holidays. He often wondered what might have happened to leave the man so bitter towards others during such a happy time of year.

Now, as he stood on the crest of the hill, Joe knew he was doing the right thing. With no one to help him, there was no way he could make it very far. But on the ridge behind the house was a small stand of trees, not as tall or full as he would have liked, but sufficient to make the Christmas tradition complete. Turning to the packhorse, he pulled firmly on the lead as he resumed his trek.

“Come on, Crazy Jack, we better find that tree before HopSing gets suspicious.”

********************

Several hours passed by the time Joe had found and cut the appropriate tree. Grinning slightly, he tried to imagine how his brothers would tease him if they’d seen the care with which he chose this tree. Adam was normally the choosy one, passing over many of Hoss and Joe’s choices as he searched for the perfect tree. Hoss was easily satisfied, anxious only to carry out the tradition, and Joe was usually happy to simply find the first full-branched green one before suggesting they head for home. This year was different. Little Joe felt as if he were representing the entire Cartwright family as he walked through the drifted snow, looking for just the ‘right’ one. Of course, none of them were, but he finally found one that he felt would suffice.

Having watched the sky closely at first, the young man had become rather complacent as the morning progressed. But as he prepared to return home, Joe took a moment to check the western horizon, surprised to see a threatening cloudbank rolling over the mountains.

“Looks like we’re in for another storm, Jack. Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get inside and warm up.”

With his focus now on home, Joe failed to take into consideration the size of the tree lashed on the narrow sled behind the packhorse. With his strength already sapped from hours in the cold air, it was all the tired man could do to keep his feet firmly on the sloping trail, but he plodded steadily onward, thankful that he hadn’t ventured any farther than the ridge.

The wind was already starting to pick up when he topped the last rise. The area was rather steep here and sometimes difficult to traverse, especially with the tree hampering their progress. The packhorse was becoming agitated, whether it was from the rising wind or the weight of the sled pushing against him as they descended, Joe wasn’t sure. Suddenly, Crazy Jack kicked a rear leg against the traces, and then lunged forward. Little Joe felt the branches of the tree as it whipped past him, but the corner of the sled was his undoing as the wooden edge caught Joe’s ankle. The trail in that particular section was precarious, the side of the hill steep and rocky, and in one fluid motion, Joe Cartwright slid to the ground then over the edge of an overhang. Only the packhorse heard his cry, but the animal was halfway to the barn by that time, the sled and its contents left behind in a heap beside the trail.

**********************

A tray filled with bowls of soup waited on the table as HopSing made one more trip to the kitchen door. The worried man wore a frown as he surveyed the yard again, not for the first time wondering where the youngest Cartwright had disappeared to. Cochise was happily munching hay in the barn, a sign that the young man hadn’t went far, but with a glance towards the west, HopSing muttered under his breath at the foolishness of his boy.

The weary cook was not eager to carry the luncheon tray to his employer; sure that Ben would be quick to inquire about Joseph’s whereabouts. The boy’s absence had been noticed, and HopSing was frustrated at the excuses he’d been forced to make. He was fairly sure what Little Joe was up to, but his assumptions were just that, assumptions. And with the rest of the hands still recuperating, he was in no position to go looking for the missing youth. However, the mass of clouds building in the distance was quickly changing his outlook. If there was a storm brewing, and Joe was caught in it . . .

A sudden blast of wind interrupted his thoughts, and just as he started to close the door, HopSing caught sight of a packhorse galloping into the yard. The animal jerked its head nervously, as if something had frightened him, and he still felt the need to flee. Halfway across the yard, the cook realized there was someone else moving towards the horse. Old Bill was walking slowly towards the lathered animal, holding out his hand and speaking in a soothing manner. In minutes, he had the lead in his hand and was carefully checking the horse for injuries.

“Horse all right?”

“Looks fine to me, just tuckered out. Who you suppose had him out? I thought everyone was inside.”

“Little Joe been gone all morning. Think he went to get tree for Christmas.”

The two men looked towards the west, each gauging the approaching clouds. Almost in unison, they moved into action. There was no time to waste, with a storm approaching and Joe out there somewhere alone, maybe injured.

Bill hurried into the bunkhouse, shouting directions to Martin as he gathered his heavy coat and gloves. Within minutes, the two men were back at the barn, readying another horse for the trip. By the time they were finished, HopSing had joined them, dressed in his own winter clothing. At the doorway, the men could see a worried Adam watching them as they headed out of the yard, each silently wondering how the eldest son would keep his father calm until their return.

***********************

Little Joe opened his eyes, immediately wishing that he hadn’t. The world swam dizzily before him, and it took several minutes before he could focus on the rocks and trees around him. There was no need to see the snow bank; that he could feel, as he was already soaked to the skin.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Joe could feel the bruises he’d earned when he slid down the rocky slope. He grinned ruefully as he realized the snow had not softened his fall. His grin turned to a frown however, as Joe gingerly felt his forehead, only to pull his fingers away and see them covered in blood. That explained the pounding in his head, along with why the world looked a little fuzzy.

As his head finally began to clear, Joe realized he was in no position to dawdle. The clouds that had been on the horizon were spreading across the sky, and he knew it would take him longer to get home now, without the packhorse to help pull the tree.

But it wasn’t until he stood that Joe recognized he had more serious problems. The sudden shooting pain in his ankle caused him to drop back to the ground where he sat in agony. Between the dizziness and the pain in his ankle, it was more than a few minutes before he was able to move again, this time on hands and knees as he struggled to pull himself up the hill. There was nothing but rocks and an occasional scrub brush to aide him, but Joe continued in his efforts, focusing on the rise in front of him instead of the sky behind him.

So intent was he on his progress, he didn’t hear the shouts until they were right above him, but when he recognized the voices, Joe couldn’t contain the jubilant tone of voice he answered with.

“I’m down here!”

Seeing Bill’s worried face peering over the edge of the snow bank above him was one of the best sights Little Joe could imagine.

“Joe, you all right, boy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. But I’m gonna need some help getting up there.”

“Just hold on. Martin’s gettin’ the rope.”

“Why boy need help?” HopSing’s voice called down.

“HopSing? What are you doin’ out here?”

“Little Joe missing. HopSing come look for lost boy so father and brothers not worry much.”

Joe groaned, not sure himself if it were from the pain in his ankle or the knowledge that his father would have something to say about his exploits. He didn’t have time to wonder about it though, as a rope was sliding down the snow bank towards him. With fingers already numb with cold, he clumsily tied the rope around his waist and tried to stand. Almost instantly he was back down on his knees in the snow. Without a word, Joe managed to right himself, half crawling as he tried to work his way up the hill. He stopped after a few minutes, struggling to catch his breath and wondering how he’d ever make it to the top.

“Bill! Don’t know if I can make it.”

“We’ll pull you up, Joe. Just hang on to the rope.”

“I’m not gonna be able to help much.”

“Little Joe hold tight. Let others do most of work.”

Joe smiled at HopSing’s orders. Even here, well outside his normal domain, the Chinaman was telling the youngest Cartwright what to do. It made Joe feel as if everything would be all right.

It took longer than any of the men expected. The snow was soft, the hill steep, and Joe had been right when he’d warned them that he wouldn’t be able to help much. There were several times when Bill almost went over the side in an effort to help the boy, but both times the others convinced him that his strength was needed to pull the rope, not balancing at the other end. Martin strained as Joe’s head reached the tip of the ledge, and with a final tug, they managed to pull him back to safety.

Joe lay on the snow, breathing hard and trying desperately to keep the world in focus. It seemed intent on reeling around his head, like snow whirling in the wind. It wasn’t until HopSing, Bill and Martin managed to get him back to the trail that he finally admitted to himself how scared he’d actually been. Joe knew the dangers of being caught in a winter storm; knew his chances of surviving would have been minimal.

“Little Joe foolish boy. Come out here by himself . . foolish, foolish.”

HopSing’s not so gentle admonishments were not lost on Joe; in fact, he knew he’d probably be receiving much worse from a certain grey haired man back at the house.

“Come on, boy, let’s get you up on this horse. We need to get you back to the house before that storm hits.”

“But Bill, what about the tree? It’s already cut. See, I’ve got it lashed to that little sled . . right over there.”

The men followed Joe’s hand as he pointed back up the trail, but each shook their heads as they helped the young man up on the horse.

“Don’t have time, Joe. That storm’s moving in fast.”

“Yeah, boy, and we only have the one horse. It’s more important to get you home.”

“But it’s not that far. I can sit on the back of the sled if I have to. Come on, you have to help me. It won’t be Christmas without the tree.”

Joe started to swing his leg back of the horse when a firm hand stopped him.

“Boy not using head. Must go quickly. Father will be worried, and storm is coming. Tree not as important as people.”

There was no arguing with the Chinaman, especially when he was right, and Joe nodded his head once in agreement. He knew that these men had already taken chances by coming out to look for him in the first place. Two of them had been ill, and HopSing was exhausted by all the work he’d performed the past several weeks. And although Joe didn’t want to admit it, he really wasn’t up to the effort. His head pounded while his ankle throbbed, but worse was the sudden sense of weariness he felt. He was cold, so cold, and it took great effort to put his thoughts into words. And so, he quietly nodded his consent. But his lack of verbal arguments didn’t mean he accepted the situation, and the men knew his silence was saying more than his words. It was a somber faced group that made their way down the hill and back to the ranch house.

*************************

“Pa, they’re coming!”

“Is Joe with them?”

“Yeah, he’s up on the horse.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Can’t tell from here, Pa. I’ll go downstairs and see.”

“No, Hoss, you stay here. Adam will be up as soon as he knows something. As long as I know Joe’s back home . . .”

The worried man settled back against his pillows as he ran a weak hand through his hair. It had been an anxious hour since his eldest son had come in to tell him that Joe was missing. HopSing had found Adam in front of the fireplace when he came in from talking to Bill and Martin, and after reassuring the worried brother, had hurried back out to join the search. It had fallen to Adam to deliver the soup to his father and brother, along with the information about Little Joe. Ben had not taken the news well, his anger a thinly veiled cover for his concern. Now as he waited to see his son, he couldn’t contain his frustration any longer.

“When I get my hands on that boy of mine.”

But in the next breath . . .

“Dear God, please let him be all right.”

*********************

By the time the weary group reached the house, Joe was shivering from the cold. Not even the blanket they’d flung over his shoulders kept the icy winds from chilling his already wet body. Adam was on the porch to meet them, hands reaching up to help his brother off the tired animal. He could feel the boy’s body shaking and his worry instantly increased tenfold. It hadn’t been that long since Joe had been sick, and pneumonia was a serious concern during the winter.

“You all right, Joe?”

“Yeah.” Joe mumbled, between chattering teeth.

“Well, kid, you sure know how to keep things worked up around here.”

“I was . . . just . . tryin’ to . . . to get the tree.”

“You had Pa worried sick.”

“Sorry . . Adam. Didn’t mean . . . to.”

“Must get boy warmed up first. Then talk about father.”

HopSing interrupted and quickly ushered the two into the house, his own arm wrapped around Joe’s other side. The boy’s halting steps were testimony to the pain in his ankle, but right now the men were more intent on getting him warm and dry.

It took a little doing, but they eventually got Joe upstairs and in a short time had him dried off, dressed in warm clothes and tucked safely into bed. The cut on his head had been cleaned and bandaged, while several pillows supported his swollen ankle. Adam was grateful that it seemed to be a simple sprain, and no broken bones. With the weather closing in on them again, it would be days before Doc Martin could be consulted. He was just spreading another blanket over Joe when there was a movement at the door.

“Pa, what are you doing out of bed?”

“I come to see what this scalawag has been up to.”

Ben’s stern face quickly changed to one of concern as he caught sight of his youngest son. The boy’s face was covered with scratches, but even more obvious was the red flush that was already creeping over it. Ben quickly crossed the room to sit on the edge of his son’s bed, drawing his own robe close as he reached over to lay a hand on Joe’s forehead.

“What am I going to do with you, Joseph?”

“I’m sorry, Pa. I just wanted to get the tree for Christmas.”

The wistful look on his son’s face brought a pang of sorrow to the father’s heart. He knew what this holiday meant to his son, had seen the boy’s face as he gazed at the Christmas tree in past years. Ben always wondered what his son might be thinking about or remembering, but he’d never intruded on Joe’s privacy, waiting instead for the boy to come to him. But he never had, and Ben always felt that his son’s thoughts must be very precious to keep so close, for in everything else, Joe was quick to share with his pa.

“We’ll talk about that later, boy. Right now let’s just get you well.”

Joe’s eyes drifted closed even before his father finished speaking. Already tired from the work of the last few days, the morning’s exertions along with the fall had finally done him in. He didn’t hear a thing as he slipped into a deeper sleep, or later when his family anxiously worked over him. The fever continued to climb until by late evening, the young man was tossing about in delirium.

*************************

“Pa, you need to get some rest, or you’ll be sick again, yourself.”

“I’m fine, Adam. Besides, you and Hoss are just getting well yourselves. Why don’t you two turn in, I’ll stay here with Joe.”

“Adam’s right, Pa. You’ve been in here ever since they brought Joe home. Why don’t you get a couple hours sleep? Me and Adam will keep an eye on him.”

“No, boys, I’ll stay here with him.”

It was obvious that their father had no intention of leaving his son’s side, and finally Adam and Hoss agreed to a couple hours sleep. Ben appreciated their offer, and knew they were only trying to help, but he found himself relieved when they finally went off to bed. As he laid another wet cloth on the boy’s forehead, Ben frowned at the warmth he felt there. The fever seemed to be going even higher, and there were already sounds of congestion in the boy’s chest. If this were to turn into pneumonia, he wondered if the boy had the strength to fight it off.

Outside, the wind howled as the latest storm raged. But in his son’s room, Ben folded his hands as he bowed his head, his thoughts turning into prayers as the long night passed slowly.

*********************

“Pa! Pa, come quick!”

Ben rushed through the doorway, his heart in his throat as he imagined the worse. For two days they’d worried over Joe, using everyone’s knowledge and assistance to fight the boy’s rampant fever. His coughing was difficult to listen to, but they’d done their best to keep him halfway sitting against his pillows. There had been hours of silence, when he seemed to be almost unconscious, followed by hours of delirious rambling that caused Ben to drop to his knees in prayer. In all his years as a father, this was the worst illness he’d ever had to watch one of his children endure, and he prayed that its outcome would not be what he feared.

Now as he entered Joe’s room, dreading to find his fears had come to pass, the father found a group of smiling men instead. In the midst of the happy group was a weary young man, his own green eyes barely open, but a thin smile gracing his haggard face.

“Joe!”

No other words needed to be said. Ben’s heartfelt utterance of his son’s name held all the warmth and love necessary. Instead, he sat carefully on his son’s bed and gently laid his hand on Joe’s forehead. With a broad smile of his own, Ben confirmed what they already knew: the fever had broken. Once more, Joe’s eyes drifted closed while his father sat next to him, but this time he was aware of the man’s presence and could feel the loving hand stroking his hair as he fell asleep.

***********************

“Please, Pa? It’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t want to be stuck up in my room while everyone else is downstairs.”

“I know you don’t, Joe, but you’ve been pretty sick. There’s no use taking chances with your health.”

“But Pa, it’s just downstairs. It’s not like I’m going outside or anything.”

Joe kicked at his blankets with ill-concealed frustration, an act that was not missed by his father. But Joe missed his pa’s well-concealed smile as the man continued his feeble arguments.

“We never quite know what to expect from you, young man. If I let you go downstairs, next thing I know you’ll be out at the barn saddling up Cochise.”

“Pa, you know I wouldn’t do that!”

This time Ben didn’t even try to contain his amusement. Instead, a hearty laugh escaped his lips as he watched the emotions play across his son’s face.

“All right, Joe. Christmas Eve wouldn’t be the same without you anyway. Let’s get you dressed and then Hoss can help you downstairs.”

Joe followed every instruction as Ben directed him into his clothes, and soon he was fully dressed except for his boots. With his left foot still bruised and swollen, there was no chance that any footwear would be comfortable; instead, Ben slipped a heavy pair of socks over his feet before going downstairs to get Hoss.

While his pa was gone, Joe took several minutes to indulge in a little self-pity. After the fever had passed, he’d spent some time being angry at himself for making such a mess out of such a simple chore. But in the end, he simply felt sadness over the loss of a Christmas tradition he truly loved. Joe knew he was being rather childish; after all, everyone had survived the illness and were rapidly returning to good health, and there was always Christmas next year. However, he couldn’t deny his feeling of loss, as if nothing would be the same without that simple symbol. He knew there’d been no chance that anyone else could’ve brought a tree in. The last storm had dumped several feet of snow, and the temperatures had dropped considerably. The wind had kept up for the better part of the week, and was only now starting to die down. No, there was no use denying the obvious. Christmas just wouldn’t be the same this year.

“Joe!”

“What?”

“I asked if you were ready to go downstairs.”

“Hmm, yeah, sorry Hoss. I was just thinking.”

With a strong arm, Hoss helped his brother to stand then the two began their slow journey towards the stairs. Each step was painful for Joe, yet he turned down his brother’s offer to carry him. Instead, he kept his focus on the floor before him, carefully placing his foot in a way to relieve the pain as he moved forward. The two had already reached the landing before he finally looked up, and when he did, Joe’s eyes grew wide. There before him at the bottom of the stairs, was his Christmas tree. And gathered around the base of the tree were Pa and Adam, HopSing, Bill, Martin and the rest of the ranch hands.

“Merry Christmas, Joe!”

He tried, but no words would come; it seemed as if his throat had been frozen shut. Hoss mumbled something to him, but even that was lost as he focused completely on the sight before him. But he moved forward at his brother’s urging, each step a little slower than the last until they were finally at the bottom of the stairs. Only then did he finally find his voice.

“But how?”

Smiles abounded as the men enjoyed the young man’s surprise. It took several minutes before Old Bill finally spoke up, as if he wasn’t sure he should tell the story.

“It was Martin. Once we got you back to the house, he insisted that he could get back to the tree and get it home before the storm hit. And by golly, he did it too. Course, it was only with a couple minutes to spare.”

The group laughed heartily as several of the hands thumped Martin on the back good-naturedly.

“Martin?”

Joe looked at the man in surprise. He couldn’t believe this normally irritable man would have made such a trek, especially for something as frivolous as a tree. With a sheepish grin, something that was unusual for the man, he answered simply.

“Just figured you deserved your Christmas.”

The evening passed with carols and toasts, until finally all the hands had said their goodnights and retired to the bunkhouse. Joe had tried to thank Martin more than once, but the man refused to listen; something that seemed more in character for him than his act of kindness. In the end, Joe wondered if they’d ever know what made the man tick.

Late in the evening, the family exchanged their gifts, each reveling in the thoughtfulness and love that was attached with each present. But after everyone else turned in, Joe remained on the settee, gazing at the tree in wonder. It wasn’t long before Ben returned to sit by his side, and the two men shared a quiet moment before the youngest finally spoke.

“I remember her, Pa. Every Christmas, I can see Mama at the tree. She’s wearing a green silk dress, and her hair is pinned up with a silver comb. I can hear her talking while she puts presents under the tree, and see you holding her in front of the fireplace. Sometimes I even think I can feel her kiss my forehead while I watch the candles burning on the tree. Was it real, Pa? Did any of that really happen?”

Ben sat quietly, his body frozen in place while his heart thumped loudly in his chest, and tears filled behind his eyes. He remembered Marie’s last Christmas with them, saw her as she busied herself about the tree, felt her arms around him as he held her in his arms. Grasping Joe’s arm affectionately, he turned to face his son.

“Yes, Joe, everything you remember really happened. It was all real. Always remember, son, your mother loved you very much, and so do I.”

The two men stared at the tree in silence, lost for a moment in the memory of Marie’s love. Clearing his throat, Ben swiped once at his eyes before murmuring softly.

“Merry Christmas, Joe.”

“Merry Christmas, Pa.”

The End!