Summary:  Celebrate Christmas in Virginia City and uncover a mystery.

Rated: K  WC  16,500

 

A Christmas Carol in Virginia City 

A gentle wind dipped and swirled across the yard, its unexpected warmth misleading all creatures on that blessed afternoon. Nature had once again chosen to tantalize livestock and wild things alike with its temperate kiss, so out of place for the month of December. The horses responded with a liveliness usually stored away for the arrival of spring. Birds, normally huddled together in a constant battle against the elements, ventured from the trees, albeit briefly, to stretch their wings and soar once again. Even the Ponderosa pines seemed to elongate and broaden as if under the spell of the celebrated sunshine.

Guests had begun to arrive for the Cartwrights’ Christmas Eve festivities. Buggies, some sporting their tops down, lined the distance between the barn and the house. The mounts of the unmarried gentlemen guests were tied amid the surreys and several buckboards scattered the incoming road. As they made their way toward the house, the guests took care to steady their offerings of food and gifts. They greeted one another full of cheer and mirth as neighbor passed neighbor and stranger alike. The aromas of the season wafted throughout the house and into the yard, a fitting welcome to friends who rarely saw one another in the rugged, Nevada wintertime. Upstairs, the scents caught the attention of one person in particular, struggling to complete the daunting task of tying his best silky, black string tie.

“Dadburned skinny piece o’…Cain’t seem ta git it ta…”

“Hey, Hoss! You about ready? Pa will skin us alive if we don’t…get…downstairs.” Joe’s voice slowed and trailed to a whisper as he peeked around the corner and observed his big brother just inches away from the antique mirror hanging above his dresser.

“Jist hold yer horses, Lil Joe. I almost got this danged thing…”

Movement in the upstairs hallway caught Joe’s eye and he turned to see his older brother, Adam, wrestling with the sleeve of his best black suit jacket. Nodding toward Hoss’s room, Adam asked, “What’s the show?” as he adjusted his cuffs and righted his collar. Joe giggled, folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the left side of the doorframe. Adam peered inside and saw his six-foot-four, three hundred-plus pound brother struggling, his fingers and tongue moving in a synchronized ballet. Adam grinned, dimpled, and nestled against the right side of the doorframe.

“Dadgummit…Almost had it…Don’t understand why we gotta git so all-fired fancified ‘n’ such…”

A burst of laughter as the guests downstairs got the party underway drew the attention of Joe and Adam. Resigning himself to the task of once again rescuing Hoss from his nemesis, Adam sauntered across the room and within seconds, all three of Ben Cartwright’s sons were deemed presentable for the gathering.

The trio of farmers-turned-musicians wasted no time beginning the festivities with their rendition of a recently published song entitled, “Jingle Bells”. The melody, played on the banjo, guitar, and accordion, glided through the great room, a lively tune just perfect for dancing. Answering the cheerful call, husbands and wives, courted ladies and their beaus, and unattached men and women alike spun and dipped across the floor, their smiles brightening the already decorated gathering. Those who chose to watch mingled and laughed with friends as they tapped their toes to the rhythm.

Several young children stood transfixed, their heads craned upward as they awed at the tall, Ponderosa Pine Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Its sturdy branches were decorated with treasured heirlooms, hand-made over the years by Cartwright and friend alike, the monetary worth of which would surely be considered laughable. Candles, hand-dipped by Hop Sing and nestled safely in their holders, cast shadowy shapes of illumination against the ornaments and a warm, relaxing light across the room. The scent of pine lay heavy in the air. As trays and bowls overflowing with food prepared with love were placed along several tables outlining the room, the aromas reached out for one another, mixing and blending into exotic smells that reminded everyone that another year had passed, smells that gave thanks for those fortunate enough to gather once again.

As the Cartwright sons descended the stairs, they were taken by the sights and sounds.

 

CHAPTER TWO

Joe marveled at the happy radiant faces of friends and acquaintances, many of whom he knew to be careworn by the burdens of their demanding lives. Yet this day, amid the colorful decorations and with the true meaning of their gathering obvious to all, these men and women glowed with the joy and happiness of being among friends. When his shiny boots hit the floor, Joe immediately made his way across the room to a young lady to whom he’d promised the first dance. She accepted, placed her delicate hand in his and was instantly swept into the twirling crowd.

 

 

 

Adam lingered on the landing of the staircase, soaking in the gaiety of the crowd. Farmer and rancher alike, at times seeming like the bitterest of enemies, had joined together for an afternoon and evening of enjoyment. Aware that the event might not be the end-all in the typical disputes of the territory, Adam saw in their faces a desire to celebrate their similarities and ignore, at least for the duration of the holiday, their differences. A gentle hand that easily engulfed his shoulder snapped Adam to attention.

 

 

 

“Whatcha waitin’ for, Adam? There’s gals down there jist chompin’ at the bit fer me to take ‘em fer a spin.” Hoss insisted as he pushed Adam’s shoulder to one side. “I cain’t hardly git there with you standin’ in the way. Leastwise not without causin’ a scene! Now move over ‘n’ lemme git ta the party!”

 

 

 

Adam’s head moved in slow motion, his eyes settling harshly on Hoss’s hand pressed against his shoulder.

 

 

 

“Sorry, Older Brother. Didn’t mean ta wrinkle ya none,” Hoss said as he flashed a toothy grin, brushed Adam’s jacket sleeve, and slid past him to join the guests.

 

 

 

Smiling behind his big brother’s back, Adam descended the remainder of the stairs just in time to hear his father’s conversation with several of their visitors. “I hear tell some folks around town are takin’ bets as to whether or not ‘Christmas Carol’ will pay us a visit again this year, what with the hard times the territory’s been sufferin’ through this year.” Sheriff Roy Coffee shook his head and sipped from his second glass of Ben’s special punch.

 

 

 

“Really? They’re placing bets!” Ben’s remark was borne of sarcasm rather than surprise. He was privy to the wagers that took place every year at this time. In fact, he was quite sure that at least one of his sons had taken part in years past.

 

 

 

“Seems ta me,” Amy Wilder said, “that if some good-hearted elf wants ta do Santa’s work fer the children at the orphanage, then ain’t nobody ought ta git anythin’ ‘cept fer pleasure from the faces of them poor waifs.”

 

 

 

Roy held out his glass, rocked it back and forth, and grinned at Ben, who gladly refilled his friend’s drink.

 

 

 

“If’n ya ask me, ain’t enough done fer them orphans anyhow,” Amy continued as she copied Roy’s silent request for more of the special brew. 

 

 

 

“Good Evening, Miss Amy. And may I say I agree. Whoever this ‘Christmas Carol,’ as they’ve been named, might be, he, or she, or they are doing something wonderful for those children,” Adam said as he held and kissed the back of her hand. Her face reddened and she lowered her head in delighted embarrassment. “When you’re finished with your beverage, I would be most delighted if you would allow me the first dance of the evening.” Adam tilted his head slightly, his eyes twinkling in the reflected light from the candlelit tree.

 

 

 

Amy blushed a darker shade of pink, though Adam wasn’t sure of the exact cause. It was either his invitation or her rapid consumption of his pa’s punch. When she nodded and placed her now empty glass on the table, he feared that their trip around the dance floor could be nothing but remarkable.

 

 

 

A small-statured woman, Amy’s ease as she waltzed with Adam was a product of years of gatherings such as this in the company of her late husband, Cyrus Wilder. The two had shared life together for fifty-four years and his death several years ago had devastated Amy more than anyone knew. Ben and Cyrus, Cy as he was called, had been friends ever since Amy and Cy had arrived in Virginia City. Always the savvy investor, Cy had left Amy with more than enough assets to live the remainder of her life as she saw fit. She had chosen to remain on their small ranch where Cy’s wisdom seemed to have permeated the very walls and things they’d touched as one. Their happy memories reached out to keep her warm at night, and she felt his presence in every acre of the land. Ben had become her sounding board, second only to her daily, private discussions with Cy. His portrait, sitting regally atop the fireplace mantle, served as an instrument of connection that Ben both understood and respected.

 

CHAPTER THREE

As the music came to an end, Adam escorted Amy back to his father and Roy. Ben and Adam offered her a chair and her response was typical of the Amy they knew and loved.

“I ain’t no old hen that can’t be twirled ‘n’ fidgeted around by a handsome, young fella without havin’ ta lie down in the hen house ‘n’ en’ertain a nap.” And with that, Amy reached for her empty glass.

“Here, Amy. Let me get that for you,” Ben said, reaching for the shiny, silver ladle in the ornate punch bowl.

“Land sakes, Ben Cartwright! I won’t have no man waitin’ on me hand ‘n’ foot. I kin git my own drink. Now you jist run along ‘n’ be social with yer other guests,” Amy ordered as she filled the glass. “I’ll be jist fine with all these nice people ta keep me company.”

“Amy Wilder, you are incorrigible!” Ben laughed. “If you’ll excuse me.” Ben stepped close to Adam and Roy, whispered and winked. “Keep an eye on that punch bowl. We may have to take her glass away!”

 ***

“My heavens, Hoss. I’m plum tuckered out! Do you mind if we sit a spell?”

“Of course not, Mrs. Bailey.” Hoss offered his arm to the widow Bailey and escorted her off the dance floor and into the nearest vacant chair. “Would you like some punch, Ma’am?”

“No, thank you, Hoss. I just need to rest a while.” Mrs. Bailey scanned the room, searching for an unattended dance partner for Hoss. “Isn’t that Marcia Findley over there? She certainly is a pretty young thing, isn’t she? Maybe she’d like to dance, Hoss.”

Hoss blushed and shoved his hands into his pockets. Staring at his feet, he raised his eyes to Mrs. Bailey. “She is awful perty. I don’t think she’d wanna dance with…well, with me.”

“Now, Hoss Cartwright! You march right on over there and invite that young lady to dance. Why, any girl worth her salt’d be pleased as pie to get an invitation from a man like you!” Ms. Bailey shooed Hoss with a wave of her hands. “G’won now, you go and have yourself a grand time. No need for you to be entertainin’ the likes of me when there are pretty young things awaitin’ your invite!”

Hoss glanced across the room at Marcia and then back to Mrs. Bailey. A nod of her head evoked the extra courage Hoss needed. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Bailey.”

She winked and quickly busied herself chatting with other guests. A wide grin of satisfaction crept across her face when she saw Marcia offer her hand to Hoss. The couple wasted no time in joining the merry crowd on the floor.

“Everyone’s talkin’ about it, Hoss,” Marcia said. “Lotsa folks think it’s you Cartwrights. I mean, it is the type of kind-hearted thing you and your family would do. Helpin’ those poor orphans ‘n’ all. Some say it’s Sheriff Coffee, but I don’t think he makes enough money to give all of those gifts every Christmas! And if it is your family or the sheriff, then they’ll hafta change the name that Old Yancy came up with! None of you exactly fit the nickname ‘Christmas Carol’!”

Hoss laughed and shook his head. “I promise ya, Marcia. I ain’t never had nothin’ ta do with leavin’ them gifts at the orphanage. Me and my brothers always wondered if it’s our pa, but we cain’t prove it no how. One year, Adam tried stayin’ awake all night long with his bedroom door wide open jist ta catch Pa sneakin’ out, but he didn’t hear a thing.”

“All I know, Hoss, is I sure hope whoever it is tells someone if they aren’t able to continue. If that were to happen, there’d be an awful lotta disappointed children.”

***

The scent of her lavender perfume was intoxicating when combined with her engaging smile and sparkling blue eyes. Her slender body dipped and pulsed with the rhythm and followed his lead with grace and elegance. They were on their third dance, and although he knew it was expected that he mingle and see to other guests’ needs, Joe didn’t want this dance to end.

“I think it must be Mr. Millhouse,” Silvia said. “I hear tell he was an orphan himself, and Heaven knows he’s got enough money. It has to be him, Joe, seeing as how you promised me it isn’t you and your family.”

“Mr. Millhouse. Hmm. You just might be right, Silvia,” Joe agreed as they whizzed past Ben and his dance partner. “Christmas Carol’ must be someone who can, not only afford the gifts, but also has the means to get those gifts to Virginia City. That and getting the presents to the orphanage doorstep every year on Christmas Eve without anyone seeing a thing!” 

The music slowed, then faded to a stop. Joe and Silvia started for one of the many tables overflowing with tempting treats and holiday fare. It wasn’t long before they were joined by Hoss and Marcia, and the mystery of ‘Christmas Carol’ quickly became the topic of discussion.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Across the room, Adam stood with one of Virginia City’s newest citizens. “Why don’t you join us this year, Miss Smythe. Every year, right after the Christmas Day services, we head over to the orphanage for their party,” Adam explained. “Some folks bring food and there’s always plenty to eat. We sing carols, play with the children and try our best to give them a morning they’ll remember. Sometime after noon, everyone heads home in time to prepare for their own Christmas dinners.”

Miss Smythe smiled. She’d only been in Virginia City a few weeks, and spending all of Christmas Day alone had not appealed to her in the least. “I’ll be there, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Please, call me Adam.”

“And you must call me Lisa.”

“All right, I will do just that,” Adam promised. “Lisa, I see my brothers across the way. Why don’t we join them? I’ll introduce you and we can sample some of what I’ve been smelling all afternoon!”

After the proper introductions had been made, the seemingly never-ending topic of ‘Christmas Carol’ once again filled the air.

“You’re saying this has been happening ever since the year the orphanage was established?” Lisa asked. “That’s amazing! And no one truly knows who it is?”

“That’s right, Ma’am. Now, the Cartwrights have always made shore the li’l fellas ‘n’ gals have a tree,” Hoss explained. “Joe ‘n’ I took a great big’n over a few days ago so’s they could git it all decorated up nice.”

“And lots of people get together to make sure there’s enough food and lots of special things at Christmas,” Joe added.

“Some people bring gifts after church on Christmas Day. Most of the time, that depends on how the mines have been doing and whether or not the farmers and ranchers have had a lucky season of rain and weather,” Adam said. “But it seems to me there are always at least a few things from the folks around. But nothing compares to what they find stacked on the front porch every Christmas morning.”

“And this ‘Christmas Carol’ person remains a mystery?” Silvia asked.

Everyone nodded, their minds filled with questions and possible answers, their hearts overflowing with admiration and respect for the mysterious giver.

***

One of the last guests to head for home on that Christmas Eve was Amy Wilder. Roy had been her escort to the Ponderosa parties ever since the year Cy had passed away, and while Roy readied the buggy, Amy said her goodbyes to the Cartwrights.

“Ben, m’dear friend, you’ve done thrown a better party agin this year! I never do believe ya kin top the one from the year a’fore, but you always manage ta do it!

“She’s right, Ben. Wonderful party!” Roy clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Now, Amy, we best be gettin’ you home so’s I can get back to town.”

“Now, don’t forget, Amy,” Ben said as he lifted her into the buggy. “The boys and I will be by to take you to church in the morning. Roy, will you be at the orphanage party?”

“Sure thing, Ben. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You remember how much Mary loved that party.” Roy’s smile defied the far-away look in his eyes as he recalled his late wife. “She’d spend days preparin’ things for those kids.”

“Your Mary was what my Cy always called ‘good people’, Roy,” Amy squeezed Roy’s hand. “Just like you and the Cartwrights here. Good people. Cain’t ask for anythin’ more.”

***

After a Ponderosa gathering, the duties of clean-up fell solely on Hop Sing, as per his own rules. There were two exceptions to this demand: Hop Sing’s birthday and Christmas Eve. This year was no exception.

Hoss’s first chore was to ensure that the corral, barn and front yard were secured after the busy day of guests coming and going with their mounts, buggies and buckboards. Chubb, Sport, Buck and Cochise were predictably on edge due to the strange smells, atypical routines and unfamiliar humans and horses of the day. The mere appearance of Hoss in the barn calmed the animals, and his loving touch and tender voice settled them quickly and completely.

Inside the house, Joe, whistling “Deck The Halls”, gathered glasses, cups and saucers and even a misplaced flask or two onto a large tray and carted it to the kitchen. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair, ordinarily coiffed to perfection, had released a small curl that rested on his forehead. Bowls, once filled to the rim with tasty mixtures of vegetables and sauces, meats and spices and cheesy potatoes were next on his tray. His whistling continued, but the song changed to “Jingle Bells” and the liveliness of the tune showed in his every step.

Adam, donning a gray apron to protect his pinstriped trousers, sleeves rolled to the widest girth of his muscular biceps, busied himself washing whatever Joe’s tray delivered to the table in the kitchen. Humming “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear”, he contentedly scrubbed each piece of dishware, transferred them to the rinse basin and then handed them to Hop Sing to be dried.

Ben returned rugs and furniture to their proper spots in his study before doing the same in the great room. Stopping to stoke the fire, he couldn’t help but smile as memories of the afternoon and evening danced in the flames of the fire. The knowledge that friends and mere acquaintances alike should be as relaxed, happy and fulfilled in his home as his guests had been that day warmed his heart. Hoss arrived back inside just as Ben turned to begin moving the heavier pieces of furniture and his middle son joined in without a second’s delay.

With the house back in order, as was tradition, five glasses of brandy appeared on the large, square table in front of the fire. Ben, Adam, Hoss, Joe and Hop Sing each held a glass as Ben made his traditional Christmas Eve toast.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

“To absent friends, may their lives be full of joy and good fortune, and may we, one day, be reunited to share their company once again. To friends taken from us all too soon, their pain and suffering now gone, may we think of them often with fondness and happy memories. To loved ones, watching over us, comforting us, guiding us to our destinies, may their souls rest peacefully, forever filled with the treasured memories we share, and may they know the serenity they have bestowed upon us all. And, most of all, to my sons, the hands of time raced you into manhood as quickly as I blink the bright sunshine from my eyes. I’m afraid to blink again…In the celebration of Christmas, we seek hope and strength for the future. When I look at each of you, Adam, Hoss and Joe, I see both and so much more.”

The old, Mission grandfather clock clicked and ground as it readied its midnight chimes. The Cartwrights raised their glasses and as the clanging bells counted off the hours, Ben’s toast drew to its conclusion.

“My sons…A father couldn’t be more proud, more impressed or more fortunate. Merry Christmas.”

The last of the orange-hot embers flickered and crackled. Ben returned from the kitchen after he and Hop Sing washed the brandy glasses and said their ‘good nights.’ He stopped in the dining area of the great room as the scene in front of the diminishing fire grabbed at his heart. Adam slept, his head leaning against the wing of the chair, legs stretched out in front and crossed at the ankles and his guitar held firmly in his hands across his lap. Hoss, his head craned back against the hard wooden frame of the settee, mouth agape, snoring loudly and in his hands, a small star ornament his mother, Inger, had made for Adam on their only Christmas together. And Joe, asleep in Ben’s favorite red chair, his hands folded on his lap, a stray curl of hair sagging on his forehead, his legs extended, feet propped on the table.

Ben crossed silently to the Christmas tree, its newly-replaced candles standing tall, their wicks ready to be lit on Christmas morning. A vacant space caught his eye and immediately, he knew the star in Hoss’s hands had been in that spot. Hanging on the majestic pine’s branches were adornments evoking both memories and heartache: a large, paper candy stick, its red and white stripes faded and worn.

Marie helped Joe paint those stripes. Ben smiled. And there are still several spots of withering color on the planks of the porch to prove it! And there’s the paper bell! Ben laughed softly as he remembered the silly sound Hoss would make every time Joe tilted that bell from side to side. Adam wanted so badly to correct Hoss, to tell Joe that a paper bell couldn’t possible ‘ding’ or ‘dong’ no matter what Hoss said. Ben shook his head in wonder that his analytical, practical teen-aged son had decided it would be better to let Hoss and Joe have their fun with the paper bell. Marie was so proud of Adam for holding his tongue and letting his little brothers remain little a while longer. Ben blinked back emotion as best he could. Marie, my love, I know you’re proud of all of your sons.

On the top of the tree hung a finely crocheted angel, a gift given to Ben’s first wife and Adam’s mother, Elizabeth. She’d told Ben of the sweet, old Italian woman who’d made the angel for her, and Ben, in turn, had passed the story on to Adam and his brothers. Then one year, in San Francisco, ten-year-old Joe had seen a grand, intricately crafted angel in a store front window and called it to their attention. They’d crowded around the pane to see the magnificent creation. Ben nodded as he remembered that day. Joe was the one who’d seen the angel, and he was the first one to comment as we stood there taking in its beauty. “It sure is something…but it ain’t, I mean it hasn’t been blessed.” Joe’s statement left Ben confused. “What do you mean, it hasn’t been blessed?” Joe looked up into his father’s eyes, his mop of hair hiding his brows and framing his forehead. Joe reached for Adam’s hand, a gesture Ben hadn’t seen in a long time, ever since Joe had announced that he was too old for such things. “Our angel has been touched by a real angel. It’s been blessed. We’ve got the best angel of all.” Ben blinked again, releasing tears that blurred the crocheted angel into a heavenly vision. Elizabeth, how did I come to be blessed with three such young men?

A sudden snort and gurgling exhale resounded across the room. Ben nearly giggled aloud as his gaze at the angel on top of the tree was broken. As Hoss settled, his hands released the star and it slid onto his thigh. Ben lifted it, careful not to wake his son, and returned to the empty branch on the tree. He caressed the star with gentle fingertips, tracing each of its five points. Inger had explained to Adam that each point should hold a special wish from the owner of the star, and that those wishes should be bestowed upon someone other than the owner. Ben recalled that for days, Adam, though only five-years-old, had struggled with what those wishes should be. Adam had asked only one question and that had been, ‘Are the wishes for keeps, or may I change them?’ Inger, I know you weren’t sure what to say. An awful lot of what that son of ours came up with left us both speechless. I wonder now if you knew… Ben clutched the star to his heart, closed his eyes and heard Inger’s lilting voice. “Adam, the wishes must be made of great importance. These wishes must be able to speak of the owner’s true feelings and desires, even when the owner cannot bring himself to say the words. You may not change the wishes, min älskling son, for your true feelings should never be in question.” Oh, Inger, how he struggled with those wishes. Ben hung the star in its place on the tree.

 

The old clock chimed the half hour, and the realization that morning would arrive sooner than later struck Ben’s weary body and released him from his reflection. He went first to Adam, grasping his guitar just below Adam’s hands in the event that he’d startle and send the beloved instrument sailing to the floor. As the eldest son stretched and focused, Ben jostled Hoss. After several rumblings and murmurs, Hoss’s eyes flew open and he immediately felt for the star missing from his fingertips. Ben touched his hand, then pointed to the tree. Hoss smiled at the glimmering star hanging safely in its place. Lastly, Ben swept the stray lock of hair from Joe’s forehead, just as he’d done so many times before. His hand lingered atop his son’s head, his fingers feeling the softness of Joe’s hair. Just like Marie’s. When Joe stirred, Ben withdrew his hand and tapped Joe’s boots. ”Joseph, get your feet off the table!”

 

As he watched his boys traipsing heavily up the stairs on that Christmas Eve, Ben wondered how any man could possibly deserve the three gifts he had been given.

 

CHAPTER SIX

Bells rang out through the crisp morning air and the tones of the organ swept melody and harmony through the open church doors. Christmas services brought a crowd to the northernmost side of town, a side some frequented only on that day. Ladies, dressed in their finest garments, held the hands of young children and the arms of their husbands and beaus as they stepped carefully down the ice-speckled stairs of the church. Wagons and buggies sat unattended and unoccupied as the citizens of Virginia City meandered the short distance to the orphanage. Conversations and laughter accompanied the bells and the final hymn, saturating the path with an almost tangible fog of joy.

As they’d done every year before the service, Hoss and Joe had delivered all of the food and gifts to the back door of the orphanage as the people arrived for church. Several ladies, including Amy Wilder, and two of the towns most notorious indolents, Abner and Andy, had volunteered to leave the service mid-way and prepare the celebration at the children’s home. It was Abner who opened the oversized wooden doors to greet the party goers as they arrived.

 

”Morning, Abner!” Ben roared. ”Well? We’re all dying to know!”

 

”It done happened ’gain, Mr. Cartwright! Christmas Carol, who ever he ’er she is done came in the night ’n’ piled the presents so high Miss Nancy had to ask fer he’p ta git em all inside!” Abner reached into his patch-pocket and pulled out an old, greyed handkerchief. Dabbing at his eyes, the sentimental old man continued, ”Ya shoulda oughtta seen them li’l gals ’n’ fellers, Mr. Cartwright! Their eyes was so big ’n’ their smiles was so wide…” Abner sniffed and wiped his nose. ”Dadburnit…must be gettin’ a might sick…” he added and turned away just as several tears trickled down his cheeks and into his stubble.

 

”Well then,” Ben yelled as he placed a comforting hand on Abner’s shoulder, ”let’s get inside and finish the party that Christmas Carol, er, I mean Santa Claus, started!”

 

Ben stood, hat in hand, greeting people as they milled past him and into the building. He heard shreiks and yelps of joy as the children were allowed into the room where Amy and the ladies had set up the food and treats. The minister and his wife were the last to arrive and as Ben turned to follow them inside, he felt a strong hand grasping his bicep from behind.

 

”Okay, Pa. You can tell us. You did this, didn’t you?” Adam asked.

 

”And you’re the one who’s been doing it,” Joe added.

 

”Yea, Pa. You kin tell us. We kin keep a secret. We jist wanna know!” Hoss said.

 

”Boys, I’ve told you a million times. I am not, nor have I ever been, the person who brings all those gifts to the orphanage!”

 

”But, Pa…”

 

”There is no ’but Pa,’ Hoss! I swear on the Ponderosa, I am not Christmas Carol!” And with that, Ben turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd inside.

 

”Well, he’s never done that before!” Adam admitted as he removed his jacket and started up the stairs.

 

”Yea, he ain’t never swore on the Ponderosa,” Hoss said. ”I reckon he really ain’t the one!”

 

”I guess you’re right. But then, who is it?” Joe added.

 

The three men stood in silence, wondering about the secret identity of the generous giver.

 

”Dadburnit, we ain’t gonna figure it out standin’ out here, ’n’ besides, I smell pie!” Hoss pushed past his brothers and vanished into the crowd.

 

***

 

”Would you look at the faces on these children?” Marcia Findley remarked. ”I’ve never seen them all so happy before!”

 

”Their mood is overflowing onto the adults, as well!” Lisa Smythe added. ”Would you look at Hoss! He’s got a child on each knee and several others gathered around him as well!”

 

”And I’m not sure who is having more fun!” Joe giggled as his bigger brother ran the wheels on the carved wooden truck up one child’s arm and down the other.

 

Ben crossed the room, placed an arm around Joe’s back and whispered, ”Joseph, would you look at your brother?”

 

”Yea, Pa. Hoss sure does seem to be enjoying himself.”

 

”Not Hoss, I meant Adam. Over there.” Ben pointed to the padded window seat where Adam sat holding a little girl and her rag doll. The noise of the gathering made it impossible to hear, but it was clear to Ben, Joe, Silvia and Marcia that Adam was singing with the adorable waif, entertaining the dancing doll. The doll’s hands clapped, with help from tiny fingers, as the song ended. The young girl quickly scooted herself around, threw her arms around Adam’s neck and placed a kiss on his cheek.

 

”Looks like Brother Adam’s found himself a new little gal!” Joe blinked away a trace of moisture as he joked about the scene.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

With the party in full swing, the laughter and singing filled both floors of the old building. The children were tended to, coddled, danced with and cuddled, and as their stomachs were filled with the richness of food, the hearts of the adults of Virginia City were touched with a tenderness seldom felt by some and greatly appreciated by all.

 

Whispers carried predictions and supposition about the mysterious Christmas Carol who’d yet again managed to provide so much joy for the orphans. The gifts left on the stoop this year were plentiful and even practical, in that each child received several packages containing a surprise selected just for that child. No one was forgotten, and from that, the atmosphere was one of awe and wonder.

 

A young boy of eight, his bounty of a book, a slate and box of chalk, a small bag of shiny marbles and a warm, winter jacket sat watching the excitement from a corner of the room. His smile was a beacon glowing throughout the room as he grinned at the younger children playing. Ben, a plate of cookies in hand, approached the young boy and was immediately impressed by his manners.

 

”My name is Mr. Cartwright. Would you mind if I sit here for a while? ” Ben asked.

 

”No, Sir. Please do. My name is Emmerson. Emmerson Pickett.”

 

”Well, Emmerson,” Ben said, ”would you care to share my cookies? It seems that my eyes were bigger than my stomach when I filled this plate!”

 

”Thank you, Sir.” Emmerson reached for an oatmeal cookie and smiled up at Ben.

 

”Are you enjoying the party, Emmerson? Ben asked.

 

”Yes, Sir. Very much,” the boy replied. ”I like to see the other children having so much fun.”

 

Ben proffered another cookie from his plate. When the boy politely declined, Ben thought he heard a twinge of sadness in his voice.  I don’t recall seeing this young man before. I wonder how long he’s been at the orphanage?

 

”Hey, Pa! In a couple o’ minutes, Miss Silvia’s gonna play some carols on the old piano ’n’ Adam’s promised ta lead everyone who wants ta sing along. Why don’t you ’n’ yer new friend c’mon over?”

 

Ben was about to suggest moving closer to the group when Hoss caught sight of the sadness on Emmerson’s face.

 

”Somethin’ wrong, li’l fella?”

 

Hoss saw the boy’s cheeks flush as he grabbed up his gifts and started to walk away. He thought better of his rudeness, and stopped. ”Thank you for the cookies, Sir. And I would rather not sing, so please excuse me.”

 

Father and son exchanged worried glances. ”Lemme talk to him, Pa. Maybe I kin see what’s troublin’ him.” Before Ben could say a word, Hoss had gone after Emmerson just as Silvia struck a chord on the badly out of tune piano.

 

He found the boy sitting on the steps of the front porch, his precious Christmas gifts tucked closely at his side. Hoss knew the boy must be cold and considered suggesting he try out his new jacket. Instead, Hoss reached for his own coat and stepped onto the porch.

 

”Mind if I join ya?” Hoss asked.

 

Emmerson continued to stare straight ahead. ”It’s okay by me.”

 

Hoss draped his big tweed coat around the boy and was relieved to see that his gesture was not rebuked. Hoss took a seat next to the boy and together, they sat in uncomfortable silence staring out at the empty, dusty street. After several painfully long minutes, Emmerson broke the quiet.

 

”You don’t hafta stay out here with me, Mister. I’m big enough to be out here alone.”

 

”Course ya are. I jist needed some air ’n’ besides,” Hoss turned, looking back inside the building, ”I don’t sing too good,” Hoss added, cracking his voice as best he could.

 

Emmerson giggled at the thought of this very large man with the yodeling voice attempting to join in the singing. Hoss put on his best offended look, which succeeded only in making the boy laugh even harder.

 

”I’ll tell ya what. Why don’t we go back inside ’n’ if you don’t sing, I won’t sing? We kin jist stand in the back ’n’ listen,” Hoss suggested. ”Wait. Ya hear that? That there’s my brother, Adam.”

 

”He sings real good, Mr…”

 

”It’s Mr. Cartwright. But you kin call me Hoss. What’dya say? Ya wanna go back inside?”

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Emmerson shook his head and wrapped his arm around the pile of gifts next to him. Hoss waited, patiently as always, hoping the boy would open up to him and share whatever the burden was that weighed so heavily on his little mind.

 

Laughter and applause spilled from the main room of the orphanage, to be replaced by another song, this one led by Silvia and accompanied by Adam on his guitar. Still Hoss waited, sitting next to the young man on the stairs in the chilly, winter air.

 

Finally, the young boy spoke. ”Mr. Cart…I mean, Hoss? Can I tell you something?” Emmerson looked up at Hoss, his dark brown eyes filled with sincerity and pleading. ”A secret? You hafta promise you won’t tell!”

 

”Emmerson, if you need ta tell me somethin’, then I promise I won’t tell.”

 

”I saw them. I saw them, Hoss, and I wasn’t supposed to!” he cried. ”And now, they might never come again!”

 

Hoss swung his arm around Emmerson’s back. ”Who did you see, Emmerson? It’s all right. You kin tell me.”

 

Eyes brimming with tears and the purity of innocence looked into blue, caring eyes that assured protection and tenderness. ”Last night, I couldn’t sleep ’cause I was…”

 

Hoss waited as Emmerson gathered himself. ”Why couldn’t ya sleep, boy?”

 

”I couldn’t ’cause I was thinking about my ma and pa. I was missin’ them somethin’ awful.”

 

The lump in Hoss’s throat grew until it felt as if it were pressing against his heart.

 

”And that’s when I heard them. I looked out the window, Hoss, and I saw two people takin’ things from a buckboard ’n’ puttin’ them on the porch. I saw Santa’s elves and now, Santa might never come again!”

 

Emmerson buried his head against Hoss’s massive chest. ”I don’t wanna be the reason the children don’t get presents anymore!”

 

Oh, Lordy! This is one of those times when I wish it was Pa instead o’ me!

 

”First,” Hoss said as he lifted Emmerson’s chin to look him in the eyes, ”ain’t nothin’ that says that Santa ain’t comin’ back if someone sees him…or them!”

 

”Uh-huh! That’s what all the kids say. If someone sees the presents gettin’ put on the stoop, then they won’t come back again! Ever!”

 

Please, come out on the porch, Pa. Please, come out on the porch!

 

”Well, I kin tell ya, fer a fact, that ain’t so.” Think, Hoss, think! ”You didn’t see them elves puttin’ the presents under the tree, did ya?”

 

”Well…No. Just puttin’ them out here on the stoop, right here where we’re sittin’!”

 

”That’s it, then!” Hoss said, his assurance bringing hope to Emmerson’s forlorn face. ”Long as ya didn’t see them puttin’ things under the tree, there’s nothin’ ta worry about.”

 

Emmerson’s face relaxed as he wiped his eyes, and nose, on his shirt sleeve. ”Really? Are ya sure, Hoss?”

 

Hoss clapped him gently on the back. ” ’Course I’m sure! I am curious about somethin’, though. What did these elves look like?”

 

”Well, one was short ’n’ one was taller. Not as tall as you or your pa, just taller than the other one. The little one didn’t carry many of the packages, just a few small ones. The bigger one did most of the movin’. And when they were done, the big one hugged the little one, then they got into the buckboard and rode away down the street.”

 

Hoss looked down the road, the ghost of the buckboard in his mind. ”Well, I’ll be.”

 

A sudden, lonely gust of wind whizzed across the porch, blowing the front door open.

 

”…and a partridge in a pear tree. On the eleventh day…”

 

”Whatd’ya say, Emmerson, ya feel like goin’ back inside ’n’ listenin’ ta the singing?” Hoss asked.

 

Emmerson’s eyes moved from side to side, up and down, clearly assisting his brain in the thought process. ”Okay, Hoss…Long as you don’t sing!”

 

Hoss’s expression was priceless. The combination of feigning hurt and holding in laughter almost frightened Emmerson, but when the corners of Hoss’s mouth crept upward, the two shared a hearty laugh that ended in a hug for Hoss and a newfound friendship for the boy.

 

CHAPTER NINE

Ben caught sight of the two as they settled into the crowd. A quick nod and wink from Hoss let Ben know he’d made sure the boy was all right. Hoss started in on the chorus of the song, and Ben laughed aloud when Emmerson’s little hand reach up to cover Hoss’s mouth. The boy was quickly swept into the air by  massive arms, his giggling so fierce it could be heard over the singing. Inger, he is so much your son. How can that be when you had so little time with him? In his strength lies a vulnerability incomprehensible to most. What an amazing man our Eric…Our Hoss has become. He surely has a guardian angel, his mother in heaven.   

 

”…and a partridge in a pear tree!”

 

Cheers, whoops and hollers filled the air. Ben leaned against the wall, arms folded and ankles crossed. Quickly, he found Joe in the crowd of people. Two tiny hands had stretched around Joe’s neck, their slender fingers laced together just under his chin. The girl’s booted feet barely showed on either side of Joe’s sizeable chest. She whispered something in Joe’s ear, and immediately, he became the horse to his adorable rider. Her blonde hair swished back and forth and up and down as he gallopped around the room. The giggling in his ear spurred him on, and her ride soon took them through the kitchen and back into the main room. Suddenly, Joe stopped, reached behind himself and easily swung the girl from his back to his hip. Delicate hands reached for his chin, steadying his face. The child leaned forward and kissed Joe’s nose, giggled and threw her arms around him, squeezing and grinning from ear to ear. Ben’s nose tingled, the feeling rising to his eyes. Blinking back the moisture, he smiled at his youngest son.Look at him, Marie. Full of life and compassion. Afraid of nothing, yet terrified of loss. Just like you, my love. Our Joseph is a man ready for whatever life has in store, and secure in the knowledge that his brothers and I stand beside him no matter what. I know you touch him from above, just as you touch me, my darling. Please, don’t ever stop.

 

”Ben, would you mind helpin’ me with the punch bowl?” Amy asked, startling Ben. ”It needs fillin’ ’n’ even empty, the doggone thing’s a might heavy fer me.”

 

Ben carried the bowl into the kitchen and watched as Amy filled it, sampled the new batch, and with a nod of approval, rushed Ben back to place it on the table.

 

”That’s it!…Now this next one might be more difficult,” Adam explained. ”You see, your hand has a lot more growing to do, but once it does, it’ll be easier for you to reach from…here…to…here.”

 

”Golly, Mr. Cartwright. You must have the biggest hands ever to be able to reach like that!” the youngster said.

 

”Well, hold your hand up like this, against mine and…There! See how much more growing you have to do!”

 

The boy nodded and presented the guitar back to Adam.

 

”Would you like to try a few more? I can teach you chords that are spaced closer together.”

 

Nodding happily, the boy’s thick brown hair flopped back and forth as his eyes grew bigger. Ben watched as Adam patiently adjusted the small fingers to the proper frets, bobbed his head once and smiled as the boy strummed a perfect chord. Before long, three other children stood waiting their turn with the instrument. Adam seemed to relish each success and allowed no failures with his unending encouragement and patience. Silvia joined the group, and Ben saw a light appear in Adam’s eyes. Silvia sat attentively as Adam worked with the children, laughing, singing and opening the tightly locked gate that bound him so much of the time. The only time I’ve seen him free of that gate has been on rare ocassion, with his brothers and me. Yet there was no mistaking as Ben watched his eldest and most serious son giggling, playing and allowing others into his private world. Liz, I wonder if Silvia might be the one? She has the same desire in her eyes when she looks at our boy that I saw in yours, reflected back at me. When he opens his gate, Liz, he brings with him a part of you that lightens his heart and opens him to even more possibilities. I know you must be watching, I feel your presence always. 

 

”Will ya?” Hoss repeated.

 

”Hmm? What? Oh, I’m sorry Hoss. I must have been daydreaming,” Ben said. ”Will I what?”

 

”Will ya sing that funny song about you-know-who…The one you sing usin’ the Swedish accent my ma taught ya? You know, the one that used ta make Mamma laugh til she cried!”

 

Ben smiled. ”If you want me to sing it, Hoss, then I will sing it!”

 

CHAPTER TEN

By the time Ben had spoken with his lovely accompaniast, Silvia and his grinning sons had all taken seats, surrounded themselves with children, and excited the entire group of adults present at the party.

 

”Any time you’re ready, Pa!” Joe yelled, his voice overflowing with childlike anticipation. ”Your audience awaits!”

 

Adam smirked, tilted his head and scratched the back of his neck. Hoss grinned and fidgetted in his chair.

 

”All right, Miss Silvia, if you would, please,” Ben started, then quickly adopted a heavy Swedish accent, ”tune me up!”

 

Several men doubled over after just three words spoken in the heavy Swedish accent, and the chuckles and snickers delayed the start of the song by at least two minutes. When the crowd quieted, the performance began…

 

”Saint Nicholas came, dancing overhead, den yumpin’ nimble down de chimney. Ach, ven he saw de dinner table spread, he had a feast, by yimney!…”

 

As Ben sang the final note of the song and the mass of people cheered, one little boy jumped up from Joe’s lap and dashed to the fireplace. On his hands and knees, he leaned forward, cocked his head to the left and wide-eyed,  gazed up into the orphanage’s chimney. The roar of laughter reached immeasurable volume and Joe giggled so uncontrollably that he tipped his chair and rolled onto the floor. It took quite a bit of convincing before the young fellow agreed that Santa was not wedged inside the brick smokestack.

 

Little by little, couples and groups left the party, heading to their homes to celebrate the remainder of Christmas Day. With no place in particular to go, Abner and Andy stayed behind to help with clean-up, or so they said. In reality, the two men enjoyed spending time with the children. Their constant questions and requests for help made the men feel needed, something that no longer happened in their everyday lives.

 

After many thank-yous, and even more well wishes and good byes, the Cartwrights, Roy, Amy and last-minute guest Silvia, left for the Ponderosa.  

 

~~~

 

”Dinna leady.” Hop Sing announced. ”Ev’lyone come. Enjoy!”

 

”Hop Sing,” Ben said as he patted his back, ”everything smells wonderful!”

 

Escorted to the elegantly set table on the arm of the eldest Cartwright son, Silvia commented on the site in front of her. ”I have never seen such a beautiful table, Mr. Cartwright! The setting is lovely and the food looks amazing! Thank you so much for inviting me to share your Christmas dinner.”

 

”Thank you, Silvia,” Ben replied as he pulled her chair, ”and the pleasure is all ours. I’m glad that Adam thought to invite you and that you were able to accept, even though it was at the last minute!”

 

”Pa, I just couldn’t allow such a beautiful young lady, new to Virginia City, to be alone for Christmas dinner,” Adam remarked. ”I, too, am very glad you agreed to join us.”

 

”Me, too! You shore are a lot prettier ta sit across from than Li’l Joe!” Hoss beamed as he watched Joe’s reaction to his insult.

 

”Hold on there, Hoss. I’m a guest at this here dinner too, ya know,” Amy Wilder said, her finger wagging, ” ’n’ I say any lady worth ’er salt’d be proud ’n’ pleased as punch ta sit across from any one o’ you Cartwrights!”

 

”You’d better watch it, bigger brother,” Joe laughed. ”You’ve got Miss Amy all fired up! If Santa hears about it, he might just slide back down the chimney and take away your gifts!”

 

”Don’t say that, Joe,” Hoss warned, the hurt in his voice surprising everyone in the room. Embarrassed by his comment as well as his tone, Hoss continued. ”Sorry, Joe. Let’s all sit down ta eat ’n’ I’ll tell ya all about the little feller I met at the orphanage t’day.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

”Hoss, if you don’t mind my saying, you seem quite taken by that young man,” Silvia remarked.

 

Hoss set his fork along the edge of his plate. ”I guess I am, Miss Silvia. There’s jist somethin’ special about that little feller.”

 

 Hoss’s focus shifted from the meal he was sharing with family and friends. Moments later, he nodded his head. ”I think I’m gonna take Emmerson fishin’ jist as soon as the weather warms up a bit.”

 

”Hoss, I’m sure he’d love going fishing with you,” Silvia added. ”The way he smiled up at you when you two came in from the porch…I can tell, he thinks you’re pretty special, too!”

 

”All I know fer shore is,” Hoss added, ”sittin’ there on that porch, I’d’ve given up a month o’ Sunday dinners if someone coulda told me the right things ta say.”

 

”Whoa, there, Brother!” Joe laughed. ”You really must have been struggling to give up even one Sunday dinner!”

 

Hoss pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose. Had there been no company at the table, he would have done more than make a face at his little brother. Still, everyone laughed at the banter that went on throughout the meal, and the tales of their encounters with the children that day kept the conversation lively and meaningful.

 

Everyone had had their fill, and a suggestion was made to retire to the great room.

 

”Amy, would you care for a brandy?” Ben offered  as the evening meal settled and they gathered in the great room, its fire blanketing them in warmth while the magnificent Christmas tree wrapped them in peace.

 

Amy nodded, accepted the glass and downed the brandy before Ben could walk to the fireplace hearth to pour for Silvia and Adam. Amy’s sheepish grin and downcast eyes made everyone smile.

 

”So, Sylvia, how did you enjoy your first Virginia City Christmas?” Ben asked, hoping to begin a distracting conversation.

 

”Mr. Cartwright, I have enjoyed every minute of this holiday. Last night’s party was wonderful, and I must remember to once again thank Deputy Clem for letting me know that everyone was welcome at the party. And Adam, I have to thank you for inviting me to join everyone at the orphanage this afternoon. Being with those children and all of the generous, caring people…Well, I must say, I don’t see how anyone could come away from that without peace and joy in their hearts.”

 

”We feel the same way, Miss Silvia,” Ben said. ”Every year, we feel the same way.”

 

”And this evening, my goodness! The food was spectacular and the company has been divine! And for that, once again, I owe you thanks, Adam.”

 

Adam nodded and smiled, his dimples deepening. Silvia found herself lost in his face, his lips, his eyes. She shivered and nearly dropped her glass.

 

”I guess the brandy was a bit much for me. I seem to be quite warm.”

 

Her blush caught Adam’s eye, and his smile broadened.

 

”Perhaps we should sit away from the fire,” Adam offered, taking her hand in his and moving to the settee.

 

The attraction between Adam and Silvia was not lost on Joe.

 

”Another year and we still don’t know who brings those gifts for the children,” Joe said, trying to move the conversation to shield Silvia’s embarrassment. ”Although, thanks to Hoss’s little friend, we do know there are two people working together.”

 

”I figure it this way.” Amy shook her head. ”Some mysteries ain’t meant ta be solved. They’s just meant ta remain mysteries. Things happen ’n’ they shouldn’t oughta need ta be picked apart to see how they work.” And her eyes, wet with memory-driven tears, Amy added, ”My Cy always used ta say, ’If you can’t see the bright side of life, polish the dull side.’ ”

 

Contemplation of Cy’s advice was interrupted by the chimes of the clock, a reminder that time can bring to an end the most meaningful of thoughts and set them aside to be examined another day.

 

”Good Heavens,” Amy cried with a slap on her thighs, ”I had no idea it’d gotten ta be so late! Ben, would ya be so kind as ta offer an old woman a ride home?”

 

”Amy, you show me an old woman in this house and I’d be happy to give her a ride home!” Ben grinned at his flustered friend as she blushed and giggled.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

”Pa, I’ll be taking Silvia back to town. Why don’t we give Amy a ride home first?” Adam offered.

 

”Amy, would that suit you?”

 

”Of course it would, Ben. If you young folks’r sure it won’t be a bother.”

 

”Miss Amy,” Adam countered, ”you could never be a bother!”

 

”Hey, Adam. Once you’ve dropped Miss Amy at her place, you and Silvia could get a might lonesome and bored,” Joe said, deep, false concern in his tone. ”I think Hoss and I should ride along with you, just to keep you company.”

 

”Good idea, Joe, ”Hoss added. ”I’ll git my hat…”

 

”You’ll do no such thing!” Adam warned. ”Silvia and I will be just fine all by ourselves…I mean, we’ll find plenty to…I mean we can entertain ourselv…I mean…”

 

Silvia couldn’t help but be completely enchanted by this handsome, stuttering man. He’s even more attractive when he’s flustered!

 

”We’ll be just fine, Joe.”

 

”Sure they will, Little Joe,” Amy echoed, an impish look in her sparkling eyes. ”And I have a feelin’ we’ll be makin’ better time than the Pony Express in gettin’ to my place!”

 

Ben coughed, hiding his grin behind his hand. Joe and Hoss exercised no such restraint and giggled until tears came. Silvia stared at the floor, trying to suppress a chuckle that refused to be contained.

 

”I must apologize for the behavior of my family and friend!” Adam said, his cheeks rosy and his lips drawn tight.

 

”There’s really nothing to apologize for, Adam,” Silvia replied, her smile refusing to remain in check. ”Miss Amy is simply in a hurry to get home!”

 

Another round of chuckles followed as wraps and coats were donned and farewells were traded. 

 

”Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Amy said as Ben helped her with her wrap. ”I sure wish Cy could’ve been here. Then the evening would’ve been perfect.”

 

”Yes, Amy. It would’ve been.”

 

Ben embraced Amy, holding her tightly before lifting her effortlessly into the buggy. Ben, Hoss and Joe stood on the porch as the buggy rolled down the yard and into the road.

 

”I like Miss Silvia, don’t you?” Hoss asked, his question directed at both Joe and his father.

 

”I sure do,” Joe said as he rubbed his shivering arms.

 

”She’s a lovely young woman,” Ben added.

 

”Ah, c’mon! If neither o’ you are gonna say it, I will! Adam is smitten with that little gal, and I think she’s totin’ a mightly big torch fer him!”

 

”Hoss,” Ben said as he wrapped an arm around each of his sons, ”I believe you may be right!”

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Outside, the winter wind swirled small clouds of dust and bits of vegetation across the yard. Buggies and buckboards were lined closely together along the north side of the road. Horses, excited to see one another again, gathered in groups inside the corral. The porch of the large ranch house was adorned with fresh greenery, its sweet perfume filling the air. Wreaths hung securely on the doors, each accented by a big, red bow.

Even after sixty years, the reliable stone fireplace of the great room continued to warm those who gathered inside. Familiar sounds, the snapping and crackling of the logs, and the roaring of the flames spread a blanket of security over the family as they congregated at the main house to celebrate the final Christmas before the turn of the century. The tree, the sixtieth Ponderosa pine to stand proud and tall in the corner of the room, held on its branches the memories of childhoods come and gone. 

”I’m telling you, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” she whispered. ”You’ve got to see him!”

”Marie! You shouldn’t!” Elizabeth giggled. ”He’s liable to find it much less amusing than you do!”

Marie, holding her six-month-old daughter, Frances, cleared her throat before yelling, ”Emmerson! Would you come here, please?”

Before Emmerson Cartwright could respond, his son, Roy, offered his help.

”What do ya need, Aunt Marie?” Roy asked as he sat at the large dining table stringing popcorn with several of his neices and nephews. ”Maybe I can help ya.”

Marie shushed her nephew, and the mischievous grin on her face let everyone in the great room know she was up to no good.

Emmerson was heard before he was seen.

”Dadburnit, Cousin Marie,” he complained, ”you know I’m busy in the kitchen! What is it?”

All eyes focused on the hallway to the kitchen. Not-so-well-hidden giggles erupted as he rounded the corner wearing a grey, flour-covered apron, a flour handprint in his thick, sable hair and a sizable chocolate icing smear on his left cheek. 

The explosion of laughter was spear-headed by the children in the room.

”Ungco Emmoson, you look funny!” little Clay screeched. ”You look like a ghoal!”

”Oh! You think I look like a girl, huh?” Emmerson teased. ”We’ll see about that!”

He snatched up his nephew and tucked him under his muscular, flour-dusted arm. Next, he gathered his giggling niece, Ann Marie, and slipped her beneath his other arm.

”Who else thinks Uncle Emmerson looks like a girl?”

”I do, I do!” Shouts from the other children, begging for a little rough-housing, rang through the fireplace-warmed air.

”Hey, Roy, how ’bout you help your older brother take care of these scalawags?”

Roy reached for the nearest children, tickling and teasing them. The faces in the great room at the Ponderosa main house emanated joy and radiated the love felt by all. The free-for-all continued for nearly twenty minutes until half of the children were exhausted and the other half were suffering from hiccups.

”Uncle Emmerson and his helpers need to get back to baking their Christmas cookies,” Ingrid said, ”or there won’t be any for us to take to the party at the orphanage on Christmas Day!”

Emmerson and his fellow bakers started for the kitchen, but not before he caught a glimpse of his brother, collapsed on the newly upholstered settee, hair disheveled and shirttail hanging loose.

“ ‘Rasslin’ with the kids a bit too much for ya, Roy?” Emmerson asked.

“Just get back to the kitchen, Big Brother,” Roy moaned. “Your apron’s depositing flour all over the room!”

Another burst of laughter was interrupted by a voice from the top of the staircase that had pervaded the long-standing house with its wisdom, candor, compassion and love.

“Mind if I join the party?”

“Grandpa!”

“Great Grandpa!”

Joyous shouts throughout the cozy room broadened Ben Cartwright’s already wide-eyed smile. He descended the beautifully-crafted staircase with an ease and grace that belied his eighty-nine years. As he did so, his dark, twinkling eyes welled with nearly overpowering emotion at the sight of so many members of his family happily gathered together in his home, his Ponderosa. Though his life had seen the unimaginable loss of three beloved wives, good fortune had blessed him with three sons, three daughters-in-law, twelve grandchildren and twenty-six great-grandchildren – so far.    

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Over the years, breakfast on Christmas Eve Day had evolved into a production that nearly equaled  the feeding of an army. Of course, any meal with even half of the every-growing Cartwright clan in attendance easily fit that description. Since thirty of the forty-five Cartwrights had already arrived at the main house the night before, this meal would be no exception.

 

Though retired, Hop Sing insisted on being the first one in the kitchen on every holiday and birthday celebrated by the Cartwrights. Along with his ’Number Six Nephew,’ Tan Liu, a feast of ham, bacon, flapjacks, bread and eggs seemed to prepare itself in record time. Having mellowed, just slightly, Hop Sing allowed several of the Cartwright ladies to adorn the dining table with its finest lace tablecloth. Every other detail of the festive setting was attended to by Hop Sing, himself.

 

As aromas wafted their way from the kitchen to the great room and beyond, footsteps, both heavy and child-like could be heard from the upstairs floor of the house. Before long, hungry adults, teens, youngsters, toddlers and infants cradled in their mothers’ arms, dressed in their finest everyday clothing and coiffed to perfection, bolted down the staircase and into the great room. From the earlier sounds of pots and pans clanging, bacon spitting and sizzling, plates and silver being set and the occassional argument in Chinese, there rose a stready drone of sounds. Discussions, teasing banter, giggles and laughter, crowded every minute space in the room. The booming, bass and baritone voices of the men were complimented by the sweet, lilting voices of the ladies. The joyous tones of the children pervaded them all as they chatted and giggled together.

 

Seated at the heart of the much-appreciated chaos was Ben Cartwright. Over the years, the heavily worn, upholstered, burgundy wing chair had contoured itself to his weight and shape, leaving behind a comfortable, indentation in the throne from which he was able to watch his family grow and thrive. As happened every year at this time, as well as other holidays and gatherings, Ben found the muscles in his face protesting their overuse. With the family under his roof, he welcomed the dawn with a smile and closed the passing of each memory-filled day with the same grin. With strong, calloused hands resting on each faded arm rest and his wide, muscled back leaning heavily against the chair, Ben soaked in as many of the conversations and fun-filled moments as was possible. His wise, dark eyes twinkled brightly, reflecting joy and love in radiant beams across the group.

 

It was Joe Jr.’s oldest daughter, Ellen, whose keen ears picked up the faint sounds of approaching horses. Seconds later, several buckboards and buggies arrived in the already overflowing yard, and an explosion of greetings surged through the sturdy pine front door.

 

”Uncle Adam! Aunt Silvia!”

 

The great room rapidly emptied into the cold, leaving behind several infants and their mothers wanting to remain warm. Adam had arrived and with him, his branch of the Cartwrights, numbering fifteen and, thanks to his grandson Abel and his lovely wife Sara, soon to be sixteen.

 

”Welcome, Son!” Ben greeted as the handshake he offered quickly morphed into a father and son hug. ”You’re a bit earlier than we expected!”

 

As mothers and fathers alike, most carrying food and gifts, herded children back inside the cozy house, Ben and Adam shared a moment alone on the porch.

 

”We’ve already had breakfast, Pa, so don’t let our early arrival upset your meal.” Adam said. ”The children were in such a hurry to get here we couldn’t make them wait! I swear, some of those little rascals slept with their clothes and coats on and their shoes to boot!”

 

Worried, Ben looked into Adam’s eyes, the connection between them deeper than ever. Something in Adam’s voice left cause for concern.

 

”What is it, Son?”

 

”It’s Abel, Pa,” Adam explained. ”He won’t let Sara out of his sight. Just now, when they were walking toward the house, the poor girl gave me a look that pleaded for help, and I’ve lost count of how many helpless glances that sweet thing has tossed my way!”

 

Ben grinned. ”Seems to me, I remember another young man mollycoddling his expectant wife. And I recall several conversations with that beautiful, young woman, in which I was on the receiving end of similar pleas!”

 

Adam chuckled and clapped his father on the shoulder.

 

”I remember, Pa. I remember,” Adam admitted. ”Throughout all five of Silvia’s pregnancies, I felt as if the world was at risk to be swallowed whole and I had no control whatsoever over that or anything else, for that matter.”

 

”I know, Son,” Ben said, his nearly-whispering voice a comfort to his eldest.

 

”The thought of losing Sil…”

 

Ben saw, once again, a vulnerability in his son’s eyes that threatened to rip his heart from his chest.

 

”But you didn’t lose her, Adam,” Ben said. ”Silvia is fine, and she has given you five healthy children. And I’m sure that the same will happen for Abel and Sara.”

 

”Excuse, Misser Caltlight. Honorable Uncle Number Two send Tan Liu.”

 

The thin Chinese lad straightened himself to his tallest height and puffed out his chest, hoping to appear more menacing than was humanly possible.

 

”He say you come now, eat bleakfast! No want go back to China in December! Tlip too long. Hop Sing fleeze.”

 

And with that, the man bowed and shuffled back inside the house.

 

Ben and Adam stood silent until Tan disappeared, then erupted with hearty laughter, the first of many such fits to follow that day. With his arm securly around his father’s back, Adam and Ben went inside to join the rest of the Cartwright family.

 

”Pa, some things never change!” Adam said.

 

”I disagree, son. For me, things continue to grow better!”

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The parents of infants from Hoss’s and Joe’s boughs of the Cartwright pine were thrilled to be able to enjoy their Christmas Eve Day breakfast without worrying about their bundles. There were more than enough extra, willing hands and laps from the new arrivals to accomodate the babes. The added table leaves left the diners crowded, but no one seemed to mind. With the extensions in, the table jutted into the great room, increasing the feeling of togetherness that was such an important part of their family.

 

When the meal was finished, children scattered to several rooms of the house.

 

”Grandpa,” Elizabeth, Adam’s eldest daughter said, ”I sure am glad you’re all right with those grandchildren and great-grandchildren of yours takin’ over the house the way they do!”

 

”Liz, that’s why your grandpa built that playroom off’n the kitchen ’n’ added all them extra bedrooms!” Hoss explained. ”Pa, that was one o’ the best ideas you ever did have!”

 

Ben nodded as he plopped down into his chair.

 

”I just have one question,” Ingrid, Hoss’s daughter asked. ”Does anyone know who’s in charge of the varmints while they’re in the playroom?”

 

Slowly, all eyes turned toward the old blue chair in front of the roaring fireplace.

 

”Okay, okay. I’m on my way!” Joe Jr. said as his wife handed him their young son. ”C’mon, Clay. Papa’s gonna take you to play with the other kids.”

 

Clay wriggled then threw his skinny arms around Joe Jr.’s neck and kissed him squarely on the cheek. From the settee, father and grandfather Joseph smiled.

 

”You wanna come, Papa?” Joe Jr. asked.

 

Joseph nodded his head and looked across the room at his father.

 

”Joseph…,” Ben said, pausing, ”…take your feet off the table and go!”

 

Joseph jumped up from the settee. His wife shook her head, grinned and giggled, as did the rest of the family.

 

 ~~~

 

Later that evening, well after sunset and just after their Christmas Eve dinner, several members of the family disappeared into the barn.

 

Lanterns were lit and a small fire was carefully built inside of a metal container. As they gathered, bundled inside their coats, hats and scarves, warming their hands by the fire, Ben took his place and all eyes and ears were once again upon the patriarch of the family. He gazed around the group, smiling and nodding at each one, as they did in return.

 

Present were Adam’s three grandsons, Abel, Matthew and Aaron, three of Hoss’s grandchildren, triplets Benjy, Roy and Amy, and Joseph’s three children, Joe Jr., Marie and Ellen.

 

”First,” Ben began, his baritone tones filling the barn, ”let me say how very proud I am of all of you,” Ben continued, his voice losing its luster as the short sentence touched his heart. ”Your names have been drawn this year, and you have accepted the privilege – and it is just that, a privilege – of collecting, from our family, the gifts that will be delivered to the Virginia City Orphanage this evening. I must tell you that inside the house, there are several very disappointed ladies and gentlemen whose names were not selected this year. I know you will do them proud.”

 

Nods and verbal agreements came from each one of the nine Cartwrights.

 

”As you and the other’s whose names have been chosen over the years know, the tradition, that thirty years ago my sons and I elected to carry forward, remains dear in our hearts. If it hadn’t been for that anonymous tradition, my son, Hoss, would never have gotten to know and later adopt a special, young man by the name of Emmerson.”

 

Benjy, Roy and Amy grinned at the mention of their father, and Marie reached out, grasping Amy’s hand tightly.

 

”They met on Christmas Day in that small, town orphanage, and the very next day, tragedy struck a dear, dear friend, Mrs. Amy Wilder.”

 

Amy Cartwright lowered her head. For the longest time, she’d felt it awkward that she was named for someone who was deceased. But once maturity had placed it’s loving hand upon her, she was deeply moved to know that her father, Emmerson, had named his first daughter after the woman who’d brought him to this family. Marie squeezed her cousin’s hand, Benjy placed an arm around her shoulders, and Roy stepped behind her and bound her tightly in his loving embrace.

 

”She passed quitely on her couch, in her sleep,” Ben continued, beaming from his great-grandchildren’s show of affection, ”surrounded by her animals and watched-over by the portrait of her beloved late husband, Cy. It was only then that Miss Amy’s confidant, Sheriff Roy Coffee, exposed their secret to my sons and me. Amy and Cyrus Wilder had been the generous benefactors for the orphanage since the establishment’s first Christmas. When Cy passed away, Miss Amy brought Roy into her magic circle of giving.”

 

Ben’s eyes brimmed with tears. Roy Cartwright let go of his sister and stood next to his great-grandpa, his arm placed loosly around Ben’s waist. Roy, too, was a namesake, and in his short twenty years, he’d been convinced of the immeasurable bond that had existed between his great-grandpa and his friend, the late Roy Coffee.

 

”Miss Amy and Roy carried on the tradition, in complete secrecy. No one knew. Not even I.”

 

Ben paused, gathering his emotions along with his words, and no one in the barn made a sound.

 

”The people of Virginia City continued to wonder and gossip about the person, or persons, who, every year, delievered a bounty of gifts to the children. By and by, they began calling that person ’Christmas Carol.’ ”

 

Ben looked around the circle of his loved ones, and to his delight, noticed that the circle was now joined, hand in hand. A tear trickled down his cheek as he thought of the generations of Cartwrights to come. Cartwrights who would continue not only the tradition of ’Christmas Carol,’ but all of the customs and practices he held cherished in his heart. The lump forming in his throat grew. He closed his eyes, forcing more tears, and did the one thing that always gave him the strength to move regardless of circumstance.

 

Elizabeth, Inger, Marie. Bless you, my loves, for your treasured gifts to me continue to grow. Our sons, our daughters, their children and their childrens’ children.  

 

Ben cleared his throat, his tears now streaming. The only sounds were the sniffles of his loved ones.

 

”So it was that Adam, Hoss, Joseph, Roy and I kept the tradition of ’Christmas Carol’ alive. And so it is that you will do the same tonight, on this Christmas Eve.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In the far corner of the loft, tucked safely behind a large pile of hay, were fifteen presents. Ellen and Marie had hidden them several days ago, and were relieved to find them as pristine as the day they were placed there. Their excitement grew as they tossed them carefully to their brother, Joe, down below.

 

In the back stall, one seldom used as it held the saddle stand, rakes and hoes and any unfinished projects, Matthew and Aaron uncovered more gifts which were added to the buckboard outside. Atop the wagon stood Abel and Benjy, their skills with mathematics and spatial proportions proving invaluable as they stacked the boxes and bundles for the trip to town.

 

Roy and Amy placed the more delicate parcels securely in the back seat of the buggy.

 

Ben stood watch over the loading of the treasures that his family had created, weaved, carved, sewn and purchased over the last few months. He was amazed by their generosity and proud of their devotion to a cause that could easily have been tossed aside by each upcoming generation. He thought of those still inside, playing with the young children at the back of the house. Their job that evening was important too – keeping the young children occupied in the playroom, oblivious to the secret mission taking place out front. 

 

”Great Grandpa,” Benjy said, touching Ben gently on the shoulder so as not to startle him from his thoughts, ”the Christmas Carol Gang has loaded everything, and the old tarps are concealing it well! Just barely made it between the buggy and the buckboard! Next year, we may need a second wagon!”

 

Ben saw the faces of his great grandchildren, their rosy cheeks and noses, upturned lips grinning back at him and dimples deepening in their cheeks.

 

”You’ve done a fine job,” Ben complimented, his heart filled with love and respect. ”Now, we go inside and get those precious young ones to bed so Santa can make an appearance!”

 

 ~~

 

One by one, the youngest of the Cartwrights drifted off to sleep. Joseph, sitting in the blue chair in the great room, cradling his three-month-old granddaughter, Jenna, caught Ben’s attention as he crossed the room. My youngest son holding my youngest great grandchild, with his feet on the table!

 

Jenna stretched a tiny arm loose from her blanket as she yawned and cooed. Her finger wrapped tightly around Joseph’s as he hummed and rocked gently from side to side.

 

As the Christmas Carol gang gradually returned to the main floor, they congregated around the dining room table. A quick tally told Ben that one member was missing – Abel.

 

Adam had noticed too, and he was sure he knew the reason for Abel’s delay. I wonder if Abel has talked things over with his father? Jason has never mentioned it to me, so maybe he hasn’t. Adam glanced at Ben, then went off in search of the missing Cartwright.

 

”I thought I might find you in here,” Adam said, rubbing his hands together as he entered the bunk house. ”The others are waiting in the dining room.”

 

”I can’t go.”

 

 Adam, hoping his grandson would elaborate, waited patiently, leaning against the bunkbed frame.

 

”I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Abel said, stubbornness in his voice. ”I know you’re disappointed in me. And Great Grandpa and Papa will be, too. I just can’t leave Sara.”

 

Still resting against the wooden frame, Adam crossed his ankles and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He recognized this tone of voice. He’d heard it a million times from Abel’s father. I don’t understand why my offspring find it necessary to hold everything inside until it explodes – as it is about to with Abel.

 

”Grandpa, what if I leave and something happens? What if she gets hurt…or falls…Well, that’s the same thing…I mean, if she falls, she’d be hurt…What if she needs me? What if the baby decides to come early? What if…”

 

Calmly, without moving, Adam interrupted.

 

”Abel. Sit down, boy, before you explode! Now, you do realize that women have been having babies for centuries upon centuries, and their husbands have nothing whatsoever to do with the process!”

 

”Yes, Grandpa, but…”

 

”And, you realize that there is no one in this family who can decide when or where that child will decide to be born.”

 

 ”Yes, Grandpa, but…”

 

”And, you know there is a house full of family, including your father and me, who would do anything and everything for Sara should the need arise.”

 

”Yes, Sir, but…”

 

”And,” Adam said, inviting Abel to sit next to him on the lower bunk, ”I’m sure you know all of those things, in your head. But, in your heart, you’re…”

 

”Terrified!” Abel yelled.

 

Adam chuckled and wrapped his arm around his grandson.

 

”Abel, I guarantee, if you were to walk into the house right this minute, you would be in good company with about two dozen men who would swear that during the time any one of those incredible ladies of ours was expecting, they were also terrified! And I am one of them!”

 

”It doesn’t matter wha…Did you say you are one of them?”

 

Adam crossed his legs and, squinting his right eye,  scratched behind his ear.

 

”Abel, I was terrified five times!” Adam admitted, ”More, if you count the imminent arrival of all of the Cartwright babies, all the way back to your Great Uncle Joseph.”

 

Abel listened, his elbows resting on his thighs, his chin on his entwined fingers.

 

Adam paused, collecting his thoughts.

 

”You know that your Great Grandmother died just minutes after I was born.”

 

Abel nodded, his eyes falling to the floor.

 

”Sara is not Elizabeth Cartwright. Sara is a strong young woman,” Adam said, his gentle voice caressing the air like a warm embrace. ”You need to be strong for her, and right now, that does not mean smothering her, no matter how sincere your intentions. It means showing her that you adore her. And I know you do, Abel. I’ve seen the way you look at that girl! Scandalous!”

 

Abel blushed, unsure of his grandfather’s meaning.

 

Adam scratched the back of his neck and grinned.

 

”Sara is almost as breathtaking as your grandmother,” Adam added, blushing himself, at the thought of his own beautiful wife. ”Almost.”

 

Grandfather and grandson laughed, and Adam felt Abel relaxing next to him.

 

How do I convince him that Sara and the baby will be fine when I know there are no guarantees? Do I tell him that I spent numerous nights with each of Sil’s pregnancies, lying awake next to her, watching her chest rise and fall and praying that she and our child would be in my life forever? Ready to bargain my soul for the life of the mother of my children. Do I mention that I give thanks each and every day that none of the grandchildren or great grandchildren have suffered the loss of one mother..let alone three.

 

Adam stood, crossed the room to the window and pulled back the green calico curtain. Staring at the shimmering specks of light in the clear, black sky, he sighed heavily and leaned against the window frame.

 

”Have you told Sara how you’re feeling?” Adam asked.

 

Abel bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

”I’ll take that as a ’no!’ ” Adam said, scratching the inside of his ear.

 

”I know you and Papa have told me over and over that I need to share what I’ve been feeling…”

 

”With the woman I love.” Adam and Abel finished the sentence in unison.

 

”And…?” Adam prodded.

 

”She’s going to tell me that she doesn’t want me constantly checking on her and that she wished I would stop asking every two minutes if she’s all right and that it drives her crazy when I insist that she eat her vegetables and then she’ll beg me to stop following her to the outhouse and…”

 

Adam burst into a fit of laughter so robust that he slid part-way down the wall and into a nearby chair. So contagious was his giggling, that after a brief look of indignation, Abel joined in and toppled over on the bunk mattress. Before the convulsions died down, tears ran down Adam’s cheeks and Abel was doubled over with a stomach cramp.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

”Sara?” Abel whispered. ”You asleep?”

 

”No. I’m having trouble getting…ugh…comfortable with this…boulder I’m carrying!” Sara complained as she tried several positions, seeking one that didn’t strain her back or hurt her aching shoulders. ”Hey! Why aren’t you with the others? Shouldn’t you be heading to the orphanage by now?”

 

Before Abel reached the bed, she continued.

 

”Oh, Abel!” she cried, both sorrow and disappointment aimed at him with those two words. ”Please,” she begged as she tried to sit up on the bed, ”don’t tell me you’re planning to let your entire family down,” she moaned as she rocked forward and back in an attempt to swing her legs off the side of the bed, ”and break the hearts of three men I love dearly,” she groaned as she offered her hands to Abel for his assistance in standing, ”just so you can drive me to do something I never imagined I might do to my own husband!”

 

With the reflexes of any man who has already experienced the wrath of an angry, uncomfortable expectant mother, Abel took two steps backward and instinctively shielded a certain area as he did so.

 

”Sara, honey, you shouldn’t get so upset, in your…”

 

”IN MY WHAT?” she yelled.

 

Immediately, Abel shushed his wife, afraid that her tone, not to mention, her volume, might bring curious, concerned family members to their room.

 

Furious with her husband, embarrassed by her outburst and aching from head to toe, Sara assumed a position that Abel had only seen twice in their one year of marriage.

 

Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I’ve gone this far, I might as well go all the way. Grandma Silvia was right! I must put a stop to this. Not just for my sanity, but for Abel’s as well.

 

When she looked at her husband, a chill ran through him.

 

”Abel, I love you, more than I ever thought possible and more and more every day. I am your wife and am about to be the mother of your child. I am healthy. Doc Everett says so. Abel, please, you have to stop hovering,” Sara pleaded, her voice like that of an angel explaining something to a frightened child.

 

That serenity, however, was short lived as Sara continued. ”Now get downstairs, get your coat and scarf on and go with your cousins! I promise you, if I feel something as innocent as a sneeze coming on, I’ll yell for the nearest Cartwright! And if that happens, I’m sure I will have at least twenty or thirty of them cramming into this room!”

 

 ~~~

 

”You know he’s not coming!” Marie insisted. ”I just can’t believe he waited until we’re ready to leave before telling us!”

 

Seated on the settee next to his wife, Adam failed to hide his smug grin.

 

”Adam! What did you do?” Silvia whispered into his ear.

 

Her warm breath sent a chill through Adam, and his focus was temporarily lost.

 

”I…uh… simply had a talk with the boy, Sil…Let him know he was smothering poor Sara…Told him…”

 

”The same thing your father told you?” Silvia grinned, grasping Adam’s muscled forearm with a gentle squeeze.

 

Adam feigned shock, but it quickly turned into a boyish grin. There was a time when I kept everyone at a distance. Then Sil came along, and I love that she knows me so well.

 

Impatient as always, Marie planted her hands firmly on her hips. ”So, are we gonna just sit here and wait, or are we…”

 

Halted in mid-sentence, Marie’s pause turned all eyes toward the staircase. Abel trudged down, the weight of losing his battle landing heavily on each step. In the rush to appear uninterested in his descent, quiet conversations sprang up around the great room and eyes turned in any direction but his. Abel’s feisty cousin, Marie, was less sympathetic to his plight.

 

”So, Abel. She told ya ya have to go, didn’t she, cuz?”

 

Laughter errupted, and although the women were just as amused, they quickly hushed everyone, fearing that the roar of giggles might waken the children. Their warnings were nearly thwarted when Joe Jr., who’d inherited his father’s penchant for uncontrolable giggling, toppled backwards and off of the ottoman he’d been sitting on. The second wave of chuckles washed over the room, temporarily changing the focus away from Abel.

 

Shoulders slumped and worry for Sara already building, he leaned against the wall next to the old grandfather clock. A half-hearted stern look from Adam calmed the group as he and Jason strode toward Abel.

 

”She didn’t even let me explain, Pa!” Abel said, his pleading eyes triggering Jason’s need to chuckle once again.

 

”It’s not funny!”

 

Adam nudged his son, gave him his best ’angry Pa face’ and immediately felt the corners of his mouth fighting back a grin.

 

”Your son is right, Jason,” Adam said. ”It is not…funny!”

 

Father and grandfather did their best to assure the worried father-to-be that Sara would be watched, cared for and responded to while he was on his mission to the orphanage. After several minutes filled with detailed instructions from Abel and promises from his pa and his grandpa, Abel donned his jacket and gloves and joined the others. After a short homily from Ben, the young Cartwrights mounted their horses, took their places in the buggy and buckboard and started toward Virginia City in the ’Christmas Carol Caravan.’

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The fire crackled and spit as Hoss carefully added another log. Twelve chimes announced the arrival of Christmas Day. So great in numbers were the gifts, wrapped with ribbons and bows and placed beneath the tree, that they spilled out from under the great Ponderosa pine. In the dining area, the table had been set to perfection, buffet-style, for Christmas morning breakfast. As was long-standing tradition, Ben and his sons, Adam, Hoss and Joseph, were the last to retire before the big day.

 

Ben pressed a bit more of his favorite tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, his once nimble fingers still complying, albeit slower these days. Hoss, the only other Cartwright to appreciate the habit, puffed on his as well. Adam, one arm stretched out and resting along the back edge of the settee, stared at the fire as the flames paraded images in his mind. Joseph, a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand, raised his stockinged feet onto the large living room table and crossed his legs at his ankles. 

 

”Joseph,” Ben mumbled.

 

Nothing more was said. He rolled his eyes and removed his feet as his brothers chuckled along with his father.

 

As soon as the pilgrims returned from their journey, the house would fall silent and remain that way until the children opened their eyes on Christmas morning. Adam was about to suggest a game of checkers when Hoss’s daughter, Ingrid, came rushing down the stairs, crossing directly to Adam.

 

”Uncle Adam!” she yelled in a strained whisper. ”It’s Sara. The baby is coming!”

 

Next down the staircase, wearing his drawstring pants and no shirt, was Jason. He sped past the others and made his way to the kitchen, mumbling his orders to boil water and bring towels. Hoss, recognizing the panic in the soon-to-be-a-grandfather’s face, jumped up from the hearth.

 

”I’ll go, Adam,” Hoss assured. ”You check upstairs.”

 

”I’ll wake Emmerson and send him into town for the doc,” Joseph said as he headed for the stairs.

 

”No, Uncle Joe! Sara wants the baby to be delivered by family,” Ingrid said. ”That’s me and cousin Isabelle.”

 

Joseph waited for his brother to give him the go-ahead to fetch the doctor, but Adam shook his head, honoring Sara’s wishes.

 

”It’s all right, Joe,” Adam said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ”Ingrid and Isabelle are both midwives. They’ve already helped to bring six Cartwrights into this world. They know what to do.”

 

 ~~

 

Ben watched as Hoss and Jason made several trips up and down the stairs carrying hot water and towels to Sara’s room. Joseph paced the floor, just as he did every time a Cartwright baby made their journey into the world. Adam, also pacing the floor, had checked on Sara and made sure that Ingrid and Isabelle had everything they needed.

 

The first, low moan from upstairs brought the impending event to a reality. Gradually, husbands, wives, and single adult members of the family, some in their robes, some, fully dressed, congregated in the great room. Several filed into the kitchen, making much-needed strong coffee and gathering cups and saucers onto a tray.

 

There was talk from several of the men of mounting up and riding to meet the returning caravan. Before a decision could be made, more distressing sounds came from upstairs. Although Ben had heard those sounds many times before, they were no easier to hear this time than the first. Seated next to the fire in his burgundy chair, he closed his eyes, tightly, and said a silent prayer for mother and child alike. When he finished, he opened his eyes to the room filled with his family, each one connected to the other through their beliefs, their standards and their hearts. He amended the his prayer giving thanks that, soon, he would welcome his first great, great grandchild.

 

The pounding of hooves and the squeeking of the wagon’s wheels gave cause for a collective sigh of relief. The caravan was returning, and Abel would have to be told that his wife was about to give birth.

 

Jason sprung from his seat and ran outside to greet the returning Cartwrights. Within seconds, everyone was inside, the news of the successful delivery to the orphanage temporarily set aside.

 

Abel, his ashen face glued to the second floor of the house, clung to the post at the bottom of the stairs. I knew it. I tried to tell her. I tried to tell them! I should have stayed here! Pa and Grandpa and Great Grandpa would have forgiven me. I should have been here to hold her…Well, to help her…I could have…She might need me to…  Abel closed his eyes, the realization that he could have done nothing more that the worrying and praying he was currently doing washed over him. She was right. They were right. She knew what to do, and they were here for her. Aunt Ingrid and Aunt Isabelle wouldn’t let me near her anyway! They are all she needs.

 

Silently, Ben walked up behind Abel and put a reassuring hand on his back.

 

”Once the baby is here, she won’t need them…or us. She’ll need you,” Ben said. ”And I know in my heart, you’ll be there for her.”

 

”Thanks, Great Grandpa.”

 

The cries from upstairs suddenly grew louder and more frequent. Ben squeezed Abel’s shoulder as the young man dropped his head onto his hands. All across the great room, husbands embraced their wives, hands were reached for and held tightly and a deafening silence, shattered only by the moans and cries from above, blanketed the room. Abel raised his left leg to the first step, only to be stopped by Ben shaking his head and holding the man in his strong grasp.

 

Jason and Adam stood close by, ready to prevent Abel from rushing up and into the bedroom. Several more cries were heard, much harsher and more intense than any others. Then, the sound they’d been anticipating, the first cries of a newborn baby. No one moved. It seemed that no one even breathed. Waiting for a cue from Abel, everyone stood frozen, knowing that these moments were the worst. Until he knew that Sara was all right, there would be no celebration.

 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Ingrid appeared at the top of the stairs.

 

”Sara would like to see you, Abel.”

 

Abel took wing, his feet barely touching the steps as he dashed up and into the hallway. Knowing that Sara wanted to be the one to tell him, Ingrid waited until he was inside the bedroom before announcing the news.

 

”Sara is just fine. It’s a girl!”

 

 ~~

 

The congratulations, embraces, kisses, handshakes and tears had finally dwindled down. Everyone was in agreement that sleep was useless, especially since the children would soon come barrelling down the steps to see if Santa had paid them a visit. Coffee was once again brewing in the kitchen, and the scent of the bread Hop Sing had placed in the oven had found its way to the great room. The fire had been stoked and loaded with wood and the candles on the tree added to the glow in the room. Two of the youngest children, still babies themselves, had already opened their eyes and welcomed the Christmas Day.

 

When Abel appeared at the top of the stairs, it was Ben who first noticed the young man.

 

”Great Grandpa, Sara and I would like to see you, Pa and Momma and Grandpa and Grandma.”

 

Ben, Adam, Silvia, Jason and Viola climbed the stairs, anxious to see the new parents and their first-born child.

 

The room was bathed in early morning sunshine, casting an aura around Sara and her baby as they lay together on the bed. Everyone gave their congratulations to mother and father. Silvia sat on the edge of the bed, her arm placed around her granddaughter-in-law. Abel, his cheeks sore from grinning for the past hour, scooped the baby from Sara and stood close to the bed. Opening her wrapping, he held the baby forward, offering her to Ben.

 

”Great Grandpa,” Abel said, his voice overflowing with pride and emotion, ”Sara and I have a special Christmas gift for you.”

 

Blinking back tears of joy, Ben reached for the baby, cradling her gently in his arms. Her dark hair was plentiful, just as was Adam’s, Jason’s and Abel’s. Tenderly, he pulled the blanket away from her chest, revealing her tiny hands and skinny arms. She immediately grasped Ben’s long, calloused finger, holding tightly to her great, great grandfather. Slowly, her eyes opened, assaulted momentarily by the sunshine. She stared up at Ben, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity and innocence.

 

Abel nodded to Sara.

 

”Great Grandpa,” she said, her voice strong and steady, ”we’d like you to meet  AmyBeth Cartwright.”

 

Ben shivered. He glanced toward the window, thinking it must be open. It was not. A second whisper of air took his breath away as it blew across his finger, the one joining him to his great, great granddaughter. The chill stayed with him for several seconds, then another slight breeze, warmer this time, caressed his face, lingering on his lips. He felt unsteady, his knees weakened. And then the warmth he’d felt vanished.

 

”Amy…Beth” he whispered aloud.

 

”Pa,” Adam asked, his voice filled with worry, ”are you all right?”

 

”Did Santa Claus come?”

 

Everyone turned. Standing in the doorway, holding hands, were two of Joseph’s grandchildren, their hair tousled, eyes barely open.

 

Adam scooped them both into his arms and kissed the tops of their heads.

 

”Why don’t we go downstairs and see?” Adam asked, sounding like a child himself.

 

He looked at Ben and breathed a sigh of relief. His father’s face was no longer pale.

 

The house was suddenly filled with the sound of feet rushing through the hallway and yips and hollers of excitement. Ben handed AmyBeth to Jason. He was about to offer to remain upstairs with Sara and Abel when, to everyone’s surprise, Abel scooped Sara from the bed and carried her downstairs.

 

Amid softened arguments and much insisting, Sara was made comfortable on the settee and the Christmas morning chaos ensued.

 

Ben smiled at how politely the children behaved, especially the ’adult children.’ The smells of bacon, ham and bread and the sweet scent of the Ponderosa pine burning in the fireplace brought memories flooding back to him. He was startled by a strong, loving hand on his back.

 

”Pa, you never answered me upstairs. Are you all right?” Adam asked.

 

”Yes, Son. I am fine,” Ben answered. He gazed at the tree, the years of memories, the special ornaments representing days never forgotten. ”I have my family, Adam. That’s all I could ask for.”

End Notes:

The character Amy Wilder is from the Bonanza episode, The Trouble With Amy, written by Jack Miller and John Hawkins

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.