{"id":25323,"date":"2019-12-12T12:12:33","date_gmt":"2019-12-12T17:12:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=25323"},"modified":"2026-07-29T12:30:15","modified_gmt":"2026-07-29T16:30:15","slug":"the-ghost-of-christmas-by-puchi-ann","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=25323","title":{"rendered":"The Ghost of Christmas (by Puchi Ann)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Bonanza
\n~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
\n* Day 12 *<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Summary:\u00a0 Lost, both literally and in the wanderings of his fevered mind, Little Joe encounters a ghostly presence (or is it?) and fears he’s in for a visitation like that of Ebenezer Scrooge.<\/p>\n

Rating:\u00a0 G
\nWord Count:\u00a0 3,800<\/p>\n

The Ghost of Christmas<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Little Joe was a brat, to begin with.\u00a0 There is no doubt whatever about that.\u00a0 Adam was the first to say it, but Ben sadly concurred, and even Hoss, loyal defender of the indefensible (Adam\u2019s title, again) was forced to agree.\u00a0 For that matter, Little Joe himself admitted it, although he couldn\u2019t have explained to anyone why he was such a bear to live with (Hoss\u2019s evaluation) or a crank to rival Ebenezer Scrooge himself (Adam\u2019s).\u00a0 And Joe\u2019s response to these attacks (as he saw them) or needed correction (as the others did) was a hearty \u201cBah, humbug!\u201d\u00a0 (All the Cartwrights tended to spout Dickensian phrases this time of year.)<\/p>\n

A week before Christmas was a bad time to be on Santa Ben\u2019s naughty list, but Little Joe had most certainly landed there and thoroughly deserved to.\u00a0 He just couldn\u2019t seem to stop himself from making one caustic comment after another, and coal in his stocking was the best he could expect, probably followed by bread and water while isolated in his room for the day.\u00a0 His favorite holiday of the year and he was ruining it\u2014for himself and everyone around him.\u00a0 He knew only one way to remedy the problem and that was to take himself out of it, so he\u2019d impulsively done just that.\u00a0 At least, the rest of his family could enjoy Christmas.<\/p>\n

What no one realized, and frankly should have, was that the cause of Little Joe\u2019s inappropriate behavior was incipient illness, and taking off in the middle of a cold December night was the worst possible thing he could have done. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And that was before it started to snow.\u00a0 Great<\/i>, grumped Little Joe inwardly, as if it weren\u2019t cold enough.\u00a0 Bah, humbug<\/i>.<\/p>\n

He normally liked snow, especially at Christmastime.\u00a0 Soft flakes, drifting slowly to earth to form billowy pillows added just the right touch of seasonal beauty.\u00a0 For a few minutes they even lifted his heavy mood and made it seem like Christmas could take root in his heart and drive away the dark clouds.\u00a0 But, then, it just kept coming . . . and coming . . . and coming, and the wind blew fiercer, straight into his face and took his hat off.\u00a0 It was a regular storm, maybe even a blizzard, and that realization should have been enough to make him turn around and head for home as fast as he could trot.\u00a0 But did he do it?\u00a0 Of course not.\u00a0 Orneriness had set in and stubbornness, too, as it was all too wont (another good Dickensian word) to do in anyone named Cartwright, so he just kept pressing into the wind, his hatless head growing wetter by the minute.<\/p>\n

Making the journey that much harder, he\u2019d taken the worst horse he could find in the corral, since he deemed himself worthy of nothing better.\u00a0 \u00a0Besides, he hadn\u2019t wanted to expose Cochise to his bad mood.\u00a0 A good horse deserved better.\u00a0 Even this one deserved better, but he couldn\u2019t get far enough fast enough on foot, so he\u2019d been forced to take some horse.\u00a0 \u201cSorry, fella,\u201d Little Joe said, patting the horse\u2019s neck with his mitten-clad hand.\u00a0 Not being Cochise, of course, the horse didn\u2019t respond.\u00a0 Oh, well.\u00a0 It was a little late for repentance, anyway.<\/p>\n

Not more than half an hour later, he decided he probably should have opted for repentance, late or not.\u00a0 Unaware, he\u2019d wandered off the trail, and the horse, floundering through deep drifts, stumbled and went down hard on the rocks below.\u00a0 Given the kind of luck he was having (or, rather, the kind of choices he\u2019d been making) it was probably inevitable that the horse \u00a0broke its leg.\u00a0 Holding his battered ribs with one hand, Joe did what was required, though he hated to shoot even a poor animal like this one.\u00a0 Add another item to the naughty list.<\/p>\n

Even in Cartwrights, orneriness and stubbornness had its limits.\u00a0 Repentance, he recalled some preacher saying, involved turning around and going a different direction.\u00a0 Like Ebenezer Scrooge had (thinking Dickensian again).\u00a0 \u00a0It really was time to swallow his pride and go home and he was ready, but his head felt so dizzy he wasn\u2019t sure where home was.\u00a0 Figuring it must be behind him, he turned around, without realizing he already had, several times, and he started walking.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d been plowing through deep snow for some time when he realized that his steps were climbing.\u00a0 Even with his dulled senses, he knew they shouldn\u2019t have been; he should have been descending, down out of the mountains, not going further up into them.\u00a0 So, he turned around again or thought he did.\u00a0 At this point he wasn\u2019t sure where he was headed, but something felt wrong and the more he tried to make it right, the more wrong it felt.\u00a0 His eyes were blurry and his head ached, and the soft pillows all around him looked so inviting.\u00a0 He should probably lay down and rest just a few minutes until the world stopped spinning, and then, maybe, he could find his way home.<\/p>\n

The wind howled like a ghost in chains, but he only heard it for a short time.\u00a0 The banshee sound faded as his eyes closed, and the false warmth of a snowbound sleep crept over him.\u00a0 So nice . . . so very nice . . . and . . . comforting.<\/p>\n

He awoke to a gray apparition hovering over him, slapping at his cheeks, yelling at him above the howling wind.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t make out the words, but they were loud and demanding.\u00a0 \u201cAre you the ghost of Christmas Past?\u201d he croaked.\u00a0 Please, God<\/i>, he prayed, don\u2019t let it be the one of Christmas yet to come. <\/i>\u00a0The way he\u2019d been acting, his Christmas future would be as bleak as that of Ebenezer Scrooge: unwept, unwanted and uncared for.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re out of your head, boy,\u201d the apparition said, \u201cand small wonder, the shape you\u2019re in.\u00a0 Reckon you\u2019d best come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Little Joe moaned.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t take me, ghost.\u00a0 I\u2019m not Scrooge, not really.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care who you be; you\u2019re coming with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Should have known better<\/i>, Little Joe thought.\u00a0 You don\u2019t say no to the ghost of Christmas, whichever one it is.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

The next thing he knew he was being taken down from a horse and half-carried, half-dragged into a small, dimly lit cabin.\u00a0 Did ghosts use horses?\u00a0 Didn\u2019t they fly Scrooge around with just a touch of their hand?\u00a0 Well, this was the Sierra; maybe horses made better sense.\u00a0 The ghost dumped him onto a narrow cot and then set about divesting itself of its robes, which looked and smelled like wet fur, and a long, winding muffler which covered half its face.\u00a0 He was glad to discover it had one, otherworldly pale as it was beneath long hanks of stringy grizzled hair.<\/p>\n

He shrank from the bony hand that laid itself across his forehead and moaned with dread.\u00a0 \u201cBe still, boy,\u201d the ghost ordered sharply.\u00a0 \u201cI mean you no harm.\u201d<\/p>\n

That fit.\u00a0 The first ghost of Christmas\u2014or was it Marley?\u2014had told old Ebenezer that he was there to do him good, hadn\u2019t he?\u00a0 But this place didn\u2019t look like anywhere he\u2019d been in Christmas past, so maybe this was the Spirit of Christmas Present.\u00a0 Yeah, that must be it, \u2018cause the snowbound cabin fit in with where he\u2019d been before the ghost appeared.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t dare ask, though; the spirit had said to be still and he figured he\u2019d better do as he was told.\u00a0 Spirits could get cantankerous if you crossed them.\u00a0 Just ask Ebenezer.<\/p>\n

The spirit poked up the fire.\u00a0 Did spirits get cold?\u00a0 Probably.\u00a0 Pictures he\u2019d seen of Marley\u2019s ghost always looked gray with icy cold, just like this one.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll fix you some hot broth, boy,\u201d the ghost said.\u00a0 \u201cYou mind you stay awake for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Little Joe nodded mutely, intending to obey, but his eyes involuntarily closed, and he didn\u2019t wake until his cheeks were again being slapped, although not as sharply this time.<\/p>\n

\u201cTold you to stay awake,\u201d the ghost scolded.<\/p>\n

It had the shape and sound of an old woman, but it was underlaid with the might of an unearthly being whose will could not be withstood, or at least, Little Joe wasn\u2019t willing to chance trying.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he whispered meekly.\u00a0 \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, like as not you didn\u2019t.\u201d\u00a0 The spirit\u2019s voice took on a kindly note that was reassuring, and she raised him up in the bed and reached for a steaming bowl.\u00a0 \u201cNow, it\u2019s just a bit of beef broth,\u201d the spirit went on, \u201cbut it\u2019s what you need.\u201d<\/p>\n

Little Joe drew back.\u00a0 Something about a bit of beef seemed familiar and not in a pleasant way.\u00a0 Then he remembered and let out a weak cry of protest.\u00a0 \u201cNo!\u00a0 You may be an undigested bit of beef.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no beef in it, just the broth,\u201d the ghost insisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cA bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese,\u201d Joe babbled on, \u201ca fragment of an underdone potato.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnderdone potato?\u201d the spirit sputtered.\u00a0 \u201cDo you think I\u2019ve made you a whole stew, boy?\u00a0 Underdone potato, indeed!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s more of gravy than the grave about you, whatever you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGravy!\u00a0 I should think I\u2019m not gravy!\u00a0 You\u2019re not making a lick of sense, boy.\u00a0 Now, you open your mouth before I pinch your nose.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe clamped his mouth shut, determined to reject the otherworldly meal.\u00a0 After all, who knew what strange powers it had?\u00a0 He fought her, but he should have known better; he should have remembered that you don\u2019t say no to the ghost of Christmas: past, present or yet to be.\u00a0 His last thought as the spoon pushed through his lips was a prayer that this wasn\u2019t the yet-to-be one, though he didn\u2019t see any other way this nightmare could end.\u00a0 He\u2019d been a brat, after all.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Two other men were out in the storm, forcing their way through the fierce wind, judging their direction by the instinctive knowledge that Little Joe would have made the worst possible choices.\u00a0 That was the kind of luck the kid tended to have.\u00a0 Especially when he wasn\u2019t thinking straight, and clearly, he wasn\u2019t.\u00a0 No one who was thinking straight would have ridden out in this near-blizzard to begin with.\u00a0 Which, Adam had to admit, meant that he and Hoss weren\u2019t thinking too clearly, either, or rather, they were driven by something besides clear logic.\u00a0 Joe was their little brother, and brat or not, they wanted him back, so they huddled into their sheepskin-lined jackets and rode on.<\/p>\n

At least, Adam\u2019s renowned logic had kept Pa from coming along, with the argument that someone should remain home, in case Little Joe came to his senses and returned there.\u00a0 Logic also told the oldest Cartwright brother that would never happen. \u00a0When did Little Joe ever come to his senses, short of some catastrophe forcing him to?\u00a0 It just wasn\u2019t in the kid\u2019s makeup.<\/p>\n

The other brother stopped abruptly and dismounted from his big black horse.\u00a0 Hurrying toward a single spot of brown, poking through the snow, he grabbed it up and shouted triumphantly to his brother, \u201cIt\u2019s Joe\u2019s!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood eyes, brother,\u201d Adam called back.\u00a0 He, too, would have recognized that hat anywhere, though not half-buried in the snow, as Hoss had. \u00a0Of course, there had always been a special connection between the younger two Cartwright brothers.\u00a0 Like magnets: Joe the magnet for trouble and Hoss the magnet to pull him back\u2014well, when he wasn\u2019t pulled straight into it, instead.\u00a0 Hoss was the weaker magnet, after all.\u00a0 Adam was just glad the magic of those magnets was working once again, but would it be strong enough to pull them all the way to wherever Joe had floundered this time?\u00a0 They pressed on, hearts encouraged, but for all that, feeling more anxious than before.<\/p>\n

Their uneasiness grew more intense when they found the dead horse.\u00a0 Joe afoot in this storm?\u00a0 They dismounted and began a desperate search of the area, but there was no sign of their little brother.\u00a0 Fear at first made Hoss overlook what signs there were; then he shook himself to clear his head and began scanning the ground more closely.\u00a0 \u201cLook here, Adam\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cThere\u2019s another critter been out in this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam squinted to make out the tracks.\u00a0 They were faint, but he could definitely see the imprint of a four-legged beast, being led through the snow by a two-legged one with smaller feet than Joe.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d he said. \u00a0\u201cHard as this wind\u2019s blowing, there shouldn\u2019t be any tracks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut there is!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked behind at their own path.\u00a0 Sure enough, even their most recent tracks were almost covered.\u00a0 How had these survived?\u00a0 But they had, and he wasn\u2019t about to look gift horse tracks in the mouth.\u00a0 \u201cCome on,\u201d he shouted above the wind.\u00a0 \u201cMay not be Joe, but we\u2019ll follow them as long as they hold up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Joe; I know it is,\u201d Hoss yelled and mounted with a whoop of expectation<\/p>\n

Maybe so, Adam conceded, hope rising in his own heart.\u00a0 Hoss and Joe did share that connection, after all.\u00a0 Maybe the magic was at work.<\/p>\n

They followed the tracks for almost an hour before they faded out, covered over by the continuously falling snow.\u00a0 They both shouted their little brother\u2019s name repeatedly, but there was no response.\u00a0 Then Hoss dropped to the ground and started to paw frantically through the snow.\u00a0 Adam grabbed him by one brawny shoulder and yelled above the wind, \u201cHoss!\u00a0 He\u2019s not here!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe has to be!\u201d Hoss shouted back, his voice breaking, his eyes blinking back icy tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, he\u2019s still moving,\u201d Adam said.\u00a0 Or, at least, was.\u00a0 Little Joe very likely was lying beneath the snow somewhere . . . just not here.\u00a0 He did not, of course, share that dire prediction with Hoss, who kept digging as if his own life depended on it.<\/p>\n

Adam looked up, staring straight ahead.\u00a0 He wasn\u2019t exactly praying. \u00a0He never got that far, for his eyes fell on a shimmer of light that he was sure hadn\u2019t been there before.\u00a0 \u201cHoss!\u201d he cried.\u00a0 \u201cLook!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss was so intent on his digging that the words didn\u2019t register at first, but he was obedient by nature, so he naturally did what his big brother said, as he had from earliest childhood.\u00a0 Then he, too, saw the light and knew at once what it meant.\u00a0 Someone was living out here, someone with warmth and food and shelter to offer a lost boy.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d he said, scrambling up and setting out toward the cabin without even thinking to get his horse.\u00a0 Adam picked up Chubby\u2019s reins, as well as Sport\u2019s, and followed along in hope.\u00a0 Dear God, let the boy be there<\/i>, he was finally able to pray.<\/p>\n

The cabin wasn\u2019t far, but to the two anxious brothers, the journey seemed endless.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t really long, though, before Adam was rapping on the rough, planked door.\u00a0 It was opened by a woman who looked older than Methuselah and peered out at them from piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through them.\u00a0 \u201c\u2018Bout time you got here,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cLost somethin\u2019, did ye?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am,\u201d Adam started to say when Hoss pushed past both him and the woman to rush to the cot on the opposite side of the one-room cabin, crying out his baby brother\u2019s name.\u00a0 \u201cPlease excuse my younger brother, ma\u2019am,\u201d Adam said.\u00a0 \u201cHe means no disrespect.\u00a0 It\u2019s just . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what it\u2019s just,\u201d the woman said gruffly, but Adam thought he saw a smile of approval directed toward Hoss.\u00a0 It was gone in an instant, if it were ever there, and she was opening the door wide for Adam to enter.\u00a0 He thanked her and came in, going at once to the side of his little brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s burning with fever, Adam,\u201d Hoss said, voice thick with worry.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat he is,\u201d said the woman, \u201cand jabberin\u2019 nonsense like a boy will in a fever.\u00a0 Called me an underdone potato, he did!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe did?\u201d\u00a0 Hoss looked incredulous.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, and a blot of mustard and a crumb of cheese, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, ma\u2019am,\u201d Hoss said, \u201che was probably just hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen, why did he fight the bit of beef broth I give him, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

The words sounded vaguely familiar to Adam, but not quite right: maybe out of order, maybe out of context.\u00a0 He puzzled over them as he sipped the coffee the old woman poured for both him and Hoss while she explained how she\u2019d come upon \u201cthe boy\u201d and brought him in, despite his fighting her tooth for nail and talkin\u2019 all the time about ghosts and gravy and such.<\/p>\n

\u201cDickens!\u201d Adam cried, when the words clicked together in the right order and context.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou callin\u2019 me the dickens now, are you, mister?\u00a0 At least, your little brother only called me a ghost!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Adam insisted impatiently. \u00a0\u201cA Christmas Carol<\/i> by Charles Dickens!\u201d<\/p>\n

The old woman responded by laying a hand across his forehead.\u00a0 \u201cNo fever,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cAre all you boys given to wild ravings, fevered or no?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, ma\u2019am, not all of us,\u201d Hoss said with a grin, \u201cbut I think I know what he means.\u00a0 He\u2019s talkin\u2019 about a ghost story our pa always reads to us at Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGhost story?\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t hardly seem fittin\u2019 for Christmas, but if that\u2019s the way you celebrate the Lord\u2019s birth, it\u2019s no wonder ghosts haunt the poor child\u2019s rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

For two days Little Joe continued to rave about \u201cghosts and gravy and such,\u201d while Hoss and Adam bathed his fevered flesh and slipped warm broth and clear tea between his pale lips.\u00a0 The old woman, who\u2019d given them only her first name, busied herself providing the means to ease their brother\u2019s suffering and hearty meals for all of them, no easy challenge with Hoss in her house.\u00a0 On the third day Little Joe became more lucid, at least enough to recognize his brothers.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t let it take me,\u201d he pleaded, and by this time they knew he was referring to the Ghost of Christmas or Miss Mary, as she was known to them.<\/p>\n

This being Joe\u2019s first words since they\u2019d found him, Adam was so surprised that, at first, he didn\u2019t know what to say, but intuitive Hoss stepped in.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t worry, little brother,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cAin\u2019t nobody gonna take you from us.\u201d<\/p>\n

A weak smile toyed at Joe\u2019s lips and immediately faded.\u00a0 \u201cSorry,\u201d he whimpered.\u00a0 \u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

This time it was Adam who found the right words.\u00a0 \u201cYou are forgiven,\u201d he said simply and followed it with a brush of his brother\u2019s curls that brought another feeble smile, just before Little Joe\u2019s eyes closed and he drifted into a healing sleep.<\/p>\n

Hoss was irate.\u00a0 \u201cHe don\u2019t need forgiveness for bein\u2019 sick, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still smoothing his brother\u2019s hair, Adam said, \u201cNo, but he needed to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The anger was gone as quickly as it had flashed.\u00a0 \u201cOh.\u00a0 Right.\u201d<\/p>\n

From the far corner Mary smiled on them both with approval, and that smile seemed to knock ten years off her advanced age.<\/p>\n

By morning the storm had broken, as well as Joe\u2019s fever, and the sun sparkled on the snow like chips of diamonds.\u00a0 The older Cartwright brothers decided to take advantage of the break in the weather to get the youngest home.\u00a0 Bundled well against the cold in fur robes provided by Mary, Little Joe was cradled in Hoss\u2019s strong arms atop his equally strong horse, content to sleep away the journey back to Pa\u2014by Christmas, no less!<\/p>\n

Before mounting himself, Adam went to Mary and thanked her for all she\u2019d done.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018T\u2019weren\u2019t nothin\u2019,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know it was,\u201d Adam said.\u00a0 \u201cWe owe you his life.\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded slightly.\u00a0 \u201cWill you do something for me, then, in repayment of the debt?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything,\u201d Adam promised.<\/p>\n

\u201cNever again call him a brat,\u201d she said, a hint of severity in her voice, \u201chowever much he may tempt you to it.\u00a0 He is not that, Adam, and his life is precious to eyes in heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam stared at her.\u00a0 No longer did she sound like the unsophisticated hill woman he\u2019d known the last few days.\u00a0 Her countenance had taken on the appearance of a prophet of old, and her eyes bored into him with an intensity he had never seen before.\u00a0 \u201cDone,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Then Mary\u2019s eyes shone with a softer light and her smile was radiant.\u00a0 Her hair, looking more fair than gray now, blew out around her head like a halo, and she again seemed to grow younger as he looked upon her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t even know your full name,\u201d Adam said tentatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cMary Christmas,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Adam cocked his head.\u00a0 \u201cIs that your name or a seasonal greeting?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said with an enigmatic smile.<\/p>\n

Seeing he would get no clear answer, Adam chuffed a dry chuckle and, mounting Sport, rode off with his brothers.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t help wondering, however, how she\u2019d known that he\u2019d \u00a0ever called Joe the name she\u2019d forbidden.\u00a0 He had never told her, and he doubted that Joe had, unless it was in his delirium, which didn\u2019t seem likely.\u00a0 He stored it away in his mind, to be mulled over at another time and in a warmer place.<\/p>\n

They arrived home safely and delivered Little Joe into the loving arms of his father.\u00a0 By Christmas morning they were all able to gather in the great room of the Ponderosa to hear once again the story they loved so well, even though Little Joe lay snuggly wrapped in covers on the settee to hear it.<\/p>\n

When he was fully recovered, he made his way back to Mary\u2019s cabin to thank her personally, but she wasn\u2019t there.\u00a0 In fact, the place looked as if it had been abandoned a decade or more, and he stared in awe at the broken bedstead, where a couple of weeks ago he had received the tenderest of care from both her and his brothers.\u00a0 When told, Hoss said he must have found the wrong cabin, though Little Joe insisted he had not.<\/p>\n

Adam said nothing, disturbed in a way his logical brain could not explain by the whole otherworldly episode.\u00a0 One thing is certain: he never again called his brother a brat, oft as he was tempted.\u00a0 (The more inventive epithets he came up with as an alternative were more linguistically satisfying, anyway.)\u00a0 And while they never shared the sentiment verbally, he and Little Joe were in agreement: you just don\u2019t say no to the Ghost of Christmas. \u00a0Far better to say, as Tiny Tim observed, \u201cGod bless us, every one!\u201d<\/p>\n

The End<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Link to 2019 Advent Calendar – December 13:<\/p>\n

The Secret Santas by Lizabeth<\/b><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: Lost, both literally and in the wanderings of his fevered mind, Little Joe encounters a ghostly presence (or is it?) and fears he’s in for a visitation like that of Ebenezer Scrooge.<\/p>\n

Rating: G
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