Summary:  A Christmas Tale
Rated: K  Word Count:  4970

The Best Present

Another usual holiday season – cold, windy, heavy snow making travel difficult. Time of the year for a good fire, good coffee and a good book. Preferably all at the same time. But that wasn’t how it was for me. Oh no, just like always, Joe and I were at one another’s throats and had been for quite a while. If it hadn’t of been for Hoss, one of us wouldn’t have come home whole from that late fall cattle drive to Sacramento. The drive down had been uneventful but the trip home had taken twice as long as it should have with the weather causing havoc. First rain turned the roads to muddy slides then the cold made them into leg twisting ruts with snow covering them for a pinch of added uncertainty.

Now, the day before Christmas and we had been home all of twenty-four hours and Pa was insisting that we go get a tree – the three of us. Said it was always a “brothers’ job”. Always had been and always would be, as far as he was concerned.

I was caught in a dilemma. Because of the continuing friction between Joe and myself, I thought that the last place I truly wanted and needed to be was working with him. But Pa was firm. Tree. And the three of us. Together. If I had tried to plead off, Pa would know something was amiss. Not that he didn’t have a good idea anyway. Pa was always just like that. So I had to go with them.

Hoss was right about the tree he had spotted and tagged earlier in the fall. It was perfect. But like a lot of perfect things, it was in an imperfect spot – high on a hillside. Without the snow on the ground, it would not have been a problem getting to it. But snowless hillsides in the Sierras in December are virtually unknown.

So there we were, struggling on foot up the slope, plowing through snow knee deep, towards the perfect tree. Hoss, the one who knew just where to go, led, me following and Joe, old Short Stuff himself, bringing up the rear.

I think that he planned it, I am not sure. But suddenly Hoss was sliding back down the incline, snow piling up in front of his out stretched arms, legs flailing every which way. Standing in the deep snow I was trapped. My avalanche brother took me out then I proceeded to knock Joe from his feet.

When we all quit moving again, we were all coated with white. Unhurt, but a little dazed.

“Watch it Hoss, you could have hurt one of us!” Joe shouted angrily then started to laugh.

I looked at Hoss and started chuckling too. He looked for all the world like a big old polar bear, shaking the snow off like a wet dog does the rain.

“I can’t help it. I just lost my footin’,” he fussed.

Something went sailing past my head right about then and landed beside Hoss. It was one of his size 17 boots.

“Looks like that ain’t all you lost. Even though that alone should have been enough to make the whole mountain come down,” I teased, brushing snow from my arms.

He scowled, grabbed up his boot and without looking, tried to shove his foot in. It wouldn’t go. It was full of snow. Grumbling like the bear he resembled, Hoss started dumping it out.

“Would you come on? This isn’t suppose to take the whole day!” and with that, Joe pushed past me, headed up the slope. He never got there. As soon as he got within range, Hoss grabbed his leg and pulled him down into the snow.

Before you could count to three, they were rolling over and over, arms flailing, snow flying. I tired to stay out of the way and eventually the little boy in the two of them was played out. Panting, they lay back in the snow.

“If you two are finished, we need to get the tree and -“. I never got to finish my statement as I had made a fatal mistake. I got too close to them. The next thing I knew, Hoss was holding me down while Joe tried to stuff snow anywhere he could reach. And that boy could be inventive.

“Holler ‘uncle’ and I’ll let you up,” Hoss advised.

No matter how much I bucked, I knew I couldn’t dislodge my brother’s big frame so I conceded, wisdom being the better part of valor. They let me up but not before Joe managed to get a fistful of snow down the front of his coat. I am not an uncoordinated fool.

Whether from laughing or the physical exertion, we were all breathless, laying there in the snow. And probably in better spirits than when we had started out.

“Okay, you two. Let’s get the tree and get home,” I ordered, finally sitting up.

We easily found the tree and began the task of chopping it down. As I said, it was perfect. The right shape, the right height and now laid on its side in the snow, headed for the Ponderosa. I had finished tying the guide ropes on it when I noticed that Hoss was digging in his saddlebags.

“Why don’t we have us some lunch ‘fore we head home?” he asked and I was not going to argue with him. You don’t ever argue with Hoss about food.

“Adam, what’s the best present you ever got?” he asked later, reaching for his third sandwich as he leaned against the newly formed tree stump.

“You mean for Christmas or in general?”

“In general.”

Joe snorted and answered Hoss. “That’s easy. Best present for him had to be a book. Right, Adam?”

I gave it some consideration. “Dunno. Maybe. How about you, Joe? What’s the best present you ever got?” I thought that I knew the answer already and I was right.

With a quick nod of his head downhill, Joe replied, “Easy. Cochise was the best present I ever got – bar none.” The pinto lifted his head in our direction when he heard his name and snorted. “And see? He agrees with me.”

“That horse would agree with anything you said. What about you, Hoss?”

“Naw, Cochise don’t agree with anything I say unless I got food in my hand.” And he continued digging in the bag of food Hop Sing had packed for him.

“Seems to me like he would be agreein’ with you all the time then!” hooted Joe.

“I meant about the best present,” I corrected.

Hoss’ face lit up like sunlight striking Lake Tahoe. Although I am not sure if it was because he had the answer to my query or because he had just come across sugar cookies in the sack. Four of them disappeared all at once.

“Best present I ever got had to be the day Pa brought Hop Sing home.”

“Hoss, people can’t be presents.” I chuckled and reached for the cookies myself. If I hadn’t of, I wouldn’t have gotten any. A long time ago I had learned that there were only two types of people around Hoss and a meal – the quick and the hungry.

“Well, he sure did feel like a present, let me tell you! Nuthin’ against Marie, but, Joe, she weren’t half the cook Hop Sing i,.” Hoss explained and in a rare act of dining courtesy, gave Joe a cookie.

“I will agree with you there. Joe, your mother was a lot of things, but a cook, she wasn’t.” I agreed.

“Yeah, so I’ve always heard. Always liked the story you tell, Adam, about teaching her how to cook over an open fire.” We all shared in Joe’s chuckle. For a moment my heart went out to him. The only memories he had of his mother seemed to stem from the stories the rest of us would tell about her. It was a sobering thought for me.

“Well, come on. Let’s get this tree home. Have to get it up and decorated before the party tonight. And I want a hot bath ‘fore all our neighbors show up,” I encouraged.

On the ride home, the tree glided easily behind Hoss and Chubb with Joe and I on either side with guide ropes. But I was far from the snowy ride. I continued to think about Hoss’ question and what my honest answer would be to it. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one. Like Joe, the horse I rode had been a gift from my father. I cherished Sport as much as he did Cochise. I just wasn’t as demonstrative about it as Joe was. And like Hoss, I valued Hop Sing and his abilities. The man always seemed to know just what I needed and had it ready well in advance of my asking. But unlike Hoss, I couldn’t view Hop Sing as a gift.

I was still lost in thought when we arrived home. With all of us now more in the holiday mood, we got the tree in the house and set up in its customary place in the alcove next to the gun rack at the foot of the stairs. While we had been gone, Pa and Hop Sing had managed to find the box of treasured ornaments and the colorful glass and silver bells waited for us to find their appointed places on the tree.

It didn’t take long for Hoss and I to get the tree up but it seemed to take forever to get the candle bases clipped on to Hop Sing’s satisfaction. I thought more than once that he was being very particular for someone whose culture didn’t celebrate Christmas. He never said that he didn’t enjoy the festivities though, come to think of it. But you humored Hop Sing or you didn’t eat well. I humored him.

Throughout the remainder of the afternoon we were all drafted into decorating first the tree and then the rest of the house. The party this year would be a small one. The hands who were wintering over with us would be there as well as some of our close-by neighbors. And of course, Roy Coffee and Paul Martin, as always. Even though Pa had said “a few”, Hop Sing had cooked enough for an army.

Our first guest to arrive was Roy Coffee. I was just finishing getting cleaned up and dressed when he appeared at the door, a gift bottle of brandy in his hands. I had no idea where he got it from but his yearly gift was fine stuff. And once again, before the other guests arrived, he insisted that we open it and share our traditional toast.

“Roy, I swear this is the best brandy you have ever brought us,” Pa enthused, sipping again.

With the word “best”, I was catapulted back to the earlier discussion of the best present. Again, I went over some of the more memorable ones. The year I was fourteen, Pa gave me a set of drafting tools that I still had and used. And treasured. Was that the best? It depended on how you defined the word. To me, “best” would mean “difficult if not impossible to replace” and try as I would, there was nothing I viewed in that respect. Would I be upset if they were lost? Yes, but things like the drafting set could be replaced.

I shoved those thoughts to the side as the rest of our guests arrived.

The musicians arrived late but no one seemed to mind. I found myself discussing a particular chess move with Paul Martin while we waited for the dancing to begin. Was that the best gift I ever received? The chess set Marie had given me that last Christmas of her life? I thought of the ivory and ebony pieces, how they felt in my hand that first time. Maybe that was it. I still wasn’t sure.

Our friends and neighbors numbered about twenty so dinner that night was done buffet style. We ate, drank and danced then did it all over again. I danced with several of the older ladies present, taking into consideration that my littlest brother monopolized the one single young adult female most of the evening. The only time I saw Colleen not dancing with Joe, she was dancing with Pa. She was too young for me anyway. But it still rankled me that there seemed to be a lack of eligible dance partners. That, I decided finally, was Pa’s doing. It seemed to me sometimes that the only one of his sons Pa wanted to see permanently out of the marriage market was Joe. Not that that was a bad idea, as Joe was the one who seemed to be perpetually in hot water when it came to the ladies. Yes, get him married off and the rest of us would have a shot. While Pa whirled Colleen around, I lifted my punch glass to him in a silent salute. Seemed he had all of our interests at heart after all.

At ten o’clock, the dancing and partying stopped. It was a part of the traditional Christmas party that Pa read from the Gospels the story of the birth of the Christ child. And so, as every one of our friends and neighbors settled down around the great room, Pa opened our big family Bible as he sat in his familiar red chair by the fireplace. Looking quickly around the room, I studied the faces there. Young and old alike, they listened with rapt attention to Pa’s deep voice reading the old and familiar story.

“…Brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes……..” and as Pa read those words, I looked over at Hoss, standing across the room from me. His blue eyes were alight with joy and his face an open declaration of the gentleness of his soul. My mind went back to a memory of a different place and time………

….It was a hot and dry day on the Kansas plains. It was late July. Everyone in the small wagon train was angered that we’d had to stop. But Pa had been adamant. Inger was in labor. We had to stay close to a source of water and the jostling around in the wagon would be dangerous for her. I was just seven years old, and although the people around me didn’t know it, I understood very well what was going on. This was the day for which I had secretly prayed for months. This would be the day I got to be a big brother. It would change my life forever.

While the other children on the wagon train took the opportunity to go down to the little stream and play in the cool water, I stayed close to the wagon. The other women tried to get me to leave when Inger began crying out in earnest. But I stayed close. I felt that I had to. I thought that if Inger needed anything………well such were the thoughts of a young boy caught in a maelstrom of fear and anticipation.

Finally, late in the evening, when I thought that perhaps it would never end, there came a cry of a different sort from the wagon where Inger had fought all day long. I remember still what it sounded like: a lusty howl into the dark and hot air. A demanding cry. One of the women who had been with Inger all day, called Pa in from his pacing outside the wagon flap. Pa had been smiling broadly and I was immediately relieved when I saw his dark eyes alight with pleasure. But my heart fell when he gestured for me to stay outside.

As I stood in the dry dust, my heart began to constrict and I felt tears come to my eyes. I was being shut out. Pa and Inger didn’t want me any longer. They had a child of their own. Inger, who I was beginning to call Ma, suddenly wouldn’t care for me the same way she had before. She would have this new child and this new child would be hers while I never was. I buried my head in my arms as I leaned against the wagon tongue and cried.

“Son,” I heard Pa’s voice call to me as he rubbed my shaking shoulders. “Adam, come meet your brother.” He said. I remember still how he picked me up easily and carried me to the back of the wagon and lifted me up.

There, wrapped in one of Pa’s shirts, held in Inger’s arms was a bundle that wiggled.

“Here, Adam,” she said and extended her hand to me, her soft Swedish lilt not betraying how tired she was.

I sat down on the side of the narrow bed and she pulled the fabric down so I could see his face for the first time. It was round and still a bit red, with wispy hair. But the eyes, as blue as the Kansas sky at mid day, caught at my heart.

“Adam, this is Eric, your brother! Eric, this is a most important person in your life. This is your older brother Adam.” Inger crooned and I swear, even at less than an hour old, the baby understood for one hand reached for me.

“Can I hold him?” I asked in a whispered voice and Pa chuckled. But Inger smiled broadly.

So, sitting there in the cramped wagon, hearing the sighing of the night wind, in the flickering flame of a lantern, as I held the baby who would be known later as Hoss, I became a big brother. It was magic…..

…Someone coughed across the way and I came back to the present. The wagon was gone, replaced by solidity of the one true home I had ever known. But across the room from me was the same round face with friendly blue eyes. A whole lot bigger now but still with the same affection and understanding.

I shifted my attention back to Pa’s reading just in time to hear him intone the words “…For unto to you is born this day…” and I felt Joe, who had been standing beside me, shift restlessly. I told myself it was out of long habit that I did it but perhaps it wasn’t so. I put an arm across his shoulders and he settled immediately. I smiled. And remembered another birth…….

…It was the middle of spring, the most active and busiest of times on the Ranch. Even though in some places I would still have been considered a “boy”, here I did the work of a man, right beside my father. I was just a shade over fourteen and I was about to become a brother again.

When the hand had ridden out earlier in the afternoon to say that Mrs. Cartwright needed us back at the house, Pa had been tempted to dismiss it. But the hand had said that Mrs. Cartwright didn’t look well and that changed Pa’s attitude real quick. We had immediately returned home to find Pa’s worst fears coming to pass: Marie was in labor. I recalled how hard it had been on Inger when Hoss was born but from Marie was going through then, I knew that Hoss’ birth had been an easy one by comparison. I did my best to keep the growing fear I felt away from Hoss, knowing he was too young to truly understand what was happening.

When Paul Martin came, I heard words difficult to hear when they are spoken about someone you lived with. Hoss had heard them too and it was my job as big brother to try and explain them to him. They were words like “premature”, “breech”, and “Caesarian”. The last one was the hardest. It implied that all else had failed and the baby was lost, only to be removed by surgery to save the life of the mother. We’d had to do that the spring before to try and salvage one of Pa’s prize-winning mares only to lose the mare later from infection as well. Now they were saying the same sort of things about Marie and her baby.

Her baby. That was how I had thought of the growing child within her womb. Unlike the connection I’d had with a pregnant Inger, I was detached from Marie. And up until that day, I thought I wanted it that way. Now, instinct was kicking in as I tried to explain it to Hoss. Marie was no longer “my father’s wife”; she was becoming something else entirely.

“Is she gonna die?” Hoss asked, tears flowing down his chipmunk cheeks freely. “Is my new brother gonna die?”

“I don’t know, Hoss,” I said and felt a lump rise in my throat that I couldn’t seem to breathe around. “And how do you know it’s gonna be a boy?” I thought to distract him from the very devastating possibility of death.

“Simple. I asked God for a brother so I could be just like you and have a little brother.”

“But what if it’s a girl?” I teased but Hoss would not be swayed.

So we two brothers had stayed out of the way for the rest of that day. As night fell, I took Hoss into my arms and we sat in Pa’s chair by the fire. At first I read to him from one of our favorite books: Ivanhoe. As the gallant knight fought one battle, another one much older played out above our heads. And as I felt Hoss falling asleep, I could hear Pa’s heavy tread pacing the hallway floor overhead and Marie’s cries becoming weaker and weaker.

I must have dozed myself for the next thing I recalled was a thin wail from upstairs….then silence. I eased Hoss from my side and headed up the steps in panic. I don’t know why. Once again, I had thought that if I were there, everything would be all right.

The door to Pa and Marie’s room wasn’t completely closed and I stopped before it. I could see the head of the bed clearly reflected in the bureau mirror. I saw Pa leaning over and kissing Marie’s sweat-covered forehead as he held her hand in his. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. I couldn’t hear what they said but I know they spoke. I could see their lips moving. Then Pa moved a little to one side and Paul Martin handed Marie a tiny bundle, all wrapped in white. They hovered over it and I couldn’t see any more.

I tapped on the door softly and Paul opened it wider. Pa turned and saw me and I guess knew what was on my mind.

“Come on, you two. I have someone here who is real anxious to meet you boys.” He smiled broadly and I realized that Hoss had crept up beside me. With a whoop and a holler, Hoss bounced into the room. That earned him a twin “shh!” from both Marie and Pa. I hung back. Pa gestured for me to do as he asked but I was afraid. I don’t remember why, but I was afraid to go into that room.

Hoss and Marie were bent over the child in her arms, Hoss talking in excited whispers now.

“Look, Adam. I was right. I got me a little brother now. Just like you!” he said as he turned back to me. He ran back to where I had suddenly put down roots and tugging on my hand, pulled me to the bedside.

I was struck by the dis-similarity. Where Hoss had been a big strapping baby with a smile, a few wisps of sandy red-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, this child was tiny, with a head full of dark curls and when he looked in my direction for the first time, I felt as though the green eyes had seen to my very soul. And could see the anger and pain that had lived there for a long time.

“Here, Adam, Hoss. Sit down over here in the rocker and I’ll let you hold him for a moment. Okay?”

“Sure thing, Pa!” Hoss was into the rocker in record time, holding his arms out.

Reluctantly, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings, especially Hoss’, I went and sat down beside him in the big rocker. I had to half pull Hoss onto my lap so there would be room for the two of us. Pa waited until we were situated then taking the baby boy from Marie, brought him to us.

“Adam, Hoss, this is Joseph.” Yet rather than place him in Hoss’ outstretched arms, Pa gave him to me to hold. While Hoss talked non-stop to him, I sat silent. When Hoss reached over and took his tiny fist, I just held the baby on my lap. Unlike with Hoss, I could not make the connection. I would not.

Finally, Joseph began to cry and fuss and Pa took him back to Marie. Hoss and I were told to leave the room. Hoss did so grudgingly, me willingly.

I found that I couldn’t sleep that night. Unable to voice my feelings even to myself, I tossed and turned in bed until the dawn began to break over the eastern mountains. I had heard Pa earlier going down the stairs so I was surprised when I passed their bedroom door to find that it was open. Once again, in the mirror’s reflection I could see Marie. She was asleep. I was about to go on by when I heard the baby fussing just a bit. I stopped and, pushing the door open, went quietly into the room and stood over the cradle.

Once again the green eyes caught me and Joseph gave one little cry. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Marie was still asleep, I leaned over and carefully picked him up. I carried him over to the window where you could see the tall mountains and towering trees.

“Whatever else you may think, Adam, he is your brother.” Pa’s voice came to me. His words filled me with shame for what I had thought before.

“But he’s so different from Hoss.” Still, I was a bit surprised that Pa hadn’t taken him from me, finding me holding the baby without permission.

“So?” and Pa crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me sternly.

I couldn’t find the answer. “Pa, is…is he gonna be all right? Is Marie…”

Pa sighed. “Yes, at least we hope he is going to be okay. Marie too. But he needs something, Adam.” Pa didn’t continue until I looked up into his face. “He needs both of his older brothers. Not just Hoss. He needs you too.”

“I am not gonna change diapers!” I replied hotly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” But before Pa could go much further, my attention was drawn back to the tiny, squirming boy I held.

I would see that look so many times while he grew up and it would never fail to grab me like it did that first sunrise of his life. Joe smiled at me and lit the spark of love in my heart….

…And when I felt Joe move away from me, I realized Pa’s reading was over. Our friends and neighbors were moving to leave, calling “Merry Christmas” to each other as they departed. It was snowing again but lightly now. I moved out to stand next to Pa in the yard, waving good bye.

Back in the house, Hoss and Joe immediately set about helping clear away the aftermath of the party. Hop Sing was barking out orders right and left and before I could even begin to voice a protest, Hoss hollered for me to get a hold of the other end of the settee to move it back into position.

Once all the furniture was back where it belonged, Hop Sing magically reappeared with the coffee service and a few remaining cookies.

“Hey, Adam, did you ever come up with your answer?” Hoss asked, his mouth full of cookies and his coffee cup raised for a sip.

“What are you talking about, Hoss?” Pa asked and Hoss quickly filled him in on our discussion from earlier in the day. Then all eyes turned to me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, we had best get to bed, boys. After church tomorrow, the Thomases are having us for dinner.” Pa gestured for the stairs then.

Groaning theatrically, Joe rolled his eyes but grabbed Hoss’ arm and started pulling him towards the stairs.

“Come on, Hoss. You know that really means that Pa has to do his Saint Nick routine and put out the presents.” And Joe shot Pa a very meaningful look.

“Don’t know what your problem is, Short Shanks. As bad as you been, you think St Nick gonna leave you anything?” Hoss teased and allowed Joe to get behind him and push him.

“Me? How about you?” Joe’s voice jumped half an octave.

Finally their bantering petered out when they got to the top of the stairs and Pa and I were left alone, sipping our coffee.

“You know, Pa,” I said softly, catching his attention, “I think I did come up with the answer. The best present I ever got wasn’t just once. It was twice. Thank you, for both of them.”

And from upstairs, I heard my brothers’ laughter once again. Yes, I thought, both were irreplaceable gifts.

The End

Tags: Family