Joe was waiting for Adam.  He sat astride Cochise like a statue at the crest of the hill.  His leather coat lined with wool was buttoned up to his chin and the collar turned up over his neck.  His black hat sat low over his forehead, and he beat his gloved hands against his thighs to warm them in the brisk wind.  Cochise started at the sound, and pranced nervously.  Joe tightened his knees against him, and stopped his horse from running down the hill.

Adam was late.  Joe wasn't sure why.  This worried him, because his older brother was seldom late.   Probably it was nothing more serious than a few stray cattle that didn't want to be driven to the lower pastures, but Joe still worried.  Those stray cattle had initially been stolen by some entrepreneuring  rustlers, probably attempting to raise some cash and get some fresh beef for a trip over the Sierras to California in the spring.  Hoss, Ben, and some neighboring ranchers had closed on the crooks in a blind canyon.  During the ensuing shootout, all but one of the rustlers was killed, along with Tom Willis, one of the men from a small ranching and farming spread near the Cartwrights, and the cattle had scattered.  The men had tended their wounded and brought them and those killed back, and were forced to leave the scattered cattle.  Adam had left yesterday morning with the other ranchers to find the cattle, sort them out, and bring those with the pine tree brand back to the Ponderosa.

Joe hadn't been with his father and brother when the rustlers were cornered.  He was at Doc Martin's office in Virginia City, recovering from a bar room brawl. He had been punched in the face, kicked in the back, and would have been beaten even more severely if Adam hadn't stepped in with the sheriff and put a stop to it.

Joe was still smoldering now, a few weeks after that stranger, Charles LeDuc, had waltzed arrogantly into town, throwing his name about and intimidating his father.  When Ben had told his youngest son that this man held compromising information about Joe's mother's past,  Joe had challenged the man (against Ben's wishes), and that had nearly cost him his own and his father's lives.

Joe knew that if he hadn't run so mindlessly to LeDuc, his father may have had time to prove the man's claim of murder to be a fraud.  Instead, through Joe's youthful impatience and hastiness, Ben had been forced to rescue his youngest son by offering himself in his son's place.

Joe berated himself.  Why had he done that?  Why had he run to LeDuc, threatening him with murder if he spread rumors of Marie?  A fight had ensued between Joe and LeDuc's hired man, Tom Cole.  When Cole drew on him, Joe had no choice but to shoot him.  He hadn't meant to kill him.  It just happened.  Then, when LeDuc gloated over him, saying he would be able to tell his story of Marie and her alleged lover, Simon LaRoche, thus ruining his father's reputation, Joe had panicked and run.

LeDuc, of course, claimed that Joe had shot Cole in cold-blooded fury.  Fortunately, Ben's level head and calmness in the face of emergencies had prevailed, and he managed to convince his son not to run away. Ben had convinced LeDuc to drop the assault charges against Joe by promising to accompany the Inspector to  New Orleans, supposedly to stand trial for the murder of Simon LaRoche. His father and LeDuc had been stranded in the desert, and had escaped with their lives, but little else.

Rumors of Marie's past had spread throughout Virginia City in the meanwhile, and Joe found himself compelled to defend his mother's good name.  He was in town to blow off some steam when he got in his latest fight.  Ben, unable to keep his restless and angry youngest son home, but worried that he might get into more trouble than he could handle during this hot-headed state, had sent Adam to town to look after his brother. After Adam had left, some of Ben's neighbors came by with the news about the cattle rustlers, and  he and Hoss headed out to help track them down.

Joe closed his eyes at the distressing memory of Tom Willis's grieving widow and stunned children at the funeral.  Tom had made a fairly nice start with his small ranch and farm.  They had made enough money and raised sufficient crops to feed and clothe themselves, as well as put a little by for the future.  But how would they manage now that Tom was dead?  Of course, Ben had offered his own and his sons' help, but Tom's widow had been too deeply buried in her grief to respond, and was too proud to accept charity, anyway.

Joe was painfully aware that his foolishness in town that day could very well have cost his brothers and father their lives.  Adam might have been seriously hurt along with him, and his and Adam's presence with the other ranchers against the rustlers might have made the difference in that fight.  Perhaps Tom wouldn't have been killed.  Maybe no one would have died.  The cattle might not have been scattered.  Adam wouldn't have had to go on a two-day trip to find them.  He would be home, and Joe wouldn't be worrying that something else had gone wrong.

Maybe nothing had happened.  Perhaps he was simply worrying for no good reason.

Joe again beat his hands on his thighs to bring some feeling into his legs and fingers.  The wind whipped about him, blowing his curls from under his hat and cutting through his coat like a keen-edged knife.  Clouds raced across the sky, casting fleeting shadows on the hills about him.  Cochise pranced restlessly.  Joe leaned forward and spoke softly to his mount, attempting to calm him, before he took one last look around for Adam.   "All right, come on," he told his horse when his brother was nowhere in sight.  "Let's go back in the trees and wait for him there."  He rode reluctantly down the hill and into a small grove of pine trees near a stream in between two small hills.

It was warmer out of the wind, and Cochise blew and whinnied with relief.  "I know," agreed Joe.  "But I can see him coming from the hill.  I can't see him down here."  He dismounted and tied Cochise to a pine sapling. His boots crunched through the snow that still clung to the ground under the trees as  he strode restlessly about the edge of the grove.  Where was his brother?

Ben had noticed a few days ago that two of the steers had broken through one of the fences.  They hadn't gone far, and Ben had been able to get them back through with little additional damage to the fence, which he hastily repaired.  But it needed better repair, and quickly, before the snow came again.  Ben had told Joe to meet Adam as he returned with the cattle, help him finish driving them to pasture, and enlist his help in repairing the fence.  Joe had left the supplies by the fence where the repair was needed and had ridden out to await his brother.

Joe sighed in frustration as he looked at the sun.  If he didn't leave now, it would be well after dark before he arrived home.  He mounted Cochise and headed for the fence.  Snow from the most recent storm still lay in patches on the frozen ground.  Yesterday, when Adam had left, the temperature had come  a little above freezing, turning much of the ground to mud, but it was getting colder again.  Probably another storm blowing in tomorrow or the day after.  All the more reason to get that fence repaired.

Joe was not looking forward to doing this by himself.  He could mend a fence, of course, but it took longer alone.  He might have to take off his gloves to handle the wire and nails, and would rather have some help before he froze.  He could do the job properly, but two could do it better.  His head began to throb behind his right eye, and he gingerly held his cold glove up to his discolored, swollen eye.  "My prize," he thought grimly, "from my most recent fight."  His back, still tender from the kick he had received, was also reminding him that he'd been hard at work and in the saddle most of the day while still recovering from his injuries.

Cattle lowed behind him as Joe picked his way through the snow.  Cochise tossed his head and whinnied before Joe paid the sound any mind.  He wheeled about and saw several cattle descending the hill.  He waited.  When Adam didn't follow them, he rode around the steers, so as not to startle and scatter them, to the top of the hill.  Adam was slowly ascending the slope on Sport, with a man draped across the saddle before him.  Joe rode quickly toward him and stopped short, gaping in amazement.

The man in front of Adam wore a dark blue uniform.  At first, Joe thought he was a Union officer, but he quickly saw that couldn't be so.  His trousers, instead of being tucked into boots, came all the way down to his feet.  He wore low-heeled black shoes that showed signs, despite a little mud and grime on them now, of being recently shined.  His blue dress jacket was of a style that Joe had never seen.

He hurried down the hill to his brother, dismounted, and took the man as Adam eased him from his horse.  Adam stiffly and awkwardly slid off of Sport, careful not to let the stranger fall from his arms, and together they lifted him onto Cochise, after which Joe mounted carefully.  "Where did you find him?" he asked Adam.

"At the edge of the Ponderosa," said Adam.  "He was lying in some snow, in a shallow depression in the ground, right by the fence."  Adam was breathing hard.  He was grimy and covered with mud from head to toe.  Sport's white socks were barely visible.  He tossed his head impatiently while his master spoke with Joe, snorted, and hung his head near the ground, trying to eat a bit of shriveled grass at his feet.  Adam took hold of the reins and remounted.  Sport turned in a circle and shook his head.  "I had a dickens of a time getting him back here, and herding those cattle at the same time."

The two brothers headed up the hill.  Adam went in pursuit of the cattle, while Joe followed more slowly.  Once he was down the hill, he looked more carefully at the man before him.  A silver eagle decorated each shoulder of his jacket.  On each lapel were the initials "U.S."  Above the left breast pocket were eagle's wings, and below them was a medal, possibly a medal of honor:  a bronze cross hanging from a wide blue ribbon, with narrow white stripes near each edge and a wider center strip of red edged in white.

Joe managed to help his brother get the weary cattle through the gate.  When it was shut after them, Adam sighed in relief, drew his grimy hand  across his brow, and ran his fingers through his black hair.  "Thanks, little brother," he said gratefully.  "I thought I'd never get them home."  His hazel eyes moved toward the soldier in front of Joe.  "Especially not with him."

"What happened to him?" asked Joe.

"I have no idea," replied Adam.  "He doesn't seem to have any injuries, at least not current ones, that I can see.  He has some scars on his face -" he turned the man's head so Joe could see what he was talking about - "but those are from old injuries.  He hasn't been hit in the head that I can tell.  There's no lump on his head.  And he doesn't appear to have any broken bones.  But he hasn't moved, or made a sound, since I found him."

"Is he -"

"He's still alive, yes.  At least, he was when I found him."  Adam smiled grimly and put his hand to the side of the stranger's neck.  He nodded.  "Still alive."  He looked closely at Joe.  "What brings you out here?  Did Pa send you?"

A frustrated laugh disappeared in a puff of steam in the cold wind.  "Yeah.  He did.  Pa told me to wait for you here.  He figured you'd be coming this way, judging by what direction you had to go to get the cattle.  I was supposed to help you finish driving them in, and then you were supposed to help me mend the fence a few of them broke through the other day.  Pa already did a temporary fix, but it needs more, before the next storm hits.  I was just on my way to tend to it myself as best I could, when I heard the cattle come over the hill behind me.  It really needs two of us to straighten the posts and string the wire properly."

Joe looked down at the stranger before him as he finished speaking.  He looked up, and met Adam's hazel eyes.  There was no need to debate the matter.  They had to get this man indoors.  "Trouble is," said Joe, "I left the supplies by the fence.  We can't leave them out overnight."  He described where the section needing repair was.

"We'll go home that way, and pick them up," said Adam.  "Come on."

As they rode, Adam asked, "What are Hoss and Pa up to?"

"They had to go after some cattle that slid down that bank - you know, the one with the big overhang - by the stream.  I was helping them yesterday and earlier today, but this afternoon, Pa said he and Hoss would finish driving the cattle away from there, and he told me to come wait for you, help with the cattle, and mend that fence."

Adam looked at the sun already descending to the horizon.  "By the time we get home, it will be too late for anyone to come out and take care of it."

Joe nodded.  "Pa wanted to get it finished before the next storm.  It seems another one may be blowing in."

"Yes, probably tomorrow or the day after." Adam looked steadily ahead of him.  "Think you can carry him the rest of the way home?" He looked questioningly at his brother.

"Yeah, sure," said Joe, a little indignantly, thinking his oldest brother still thought of him as a little kid.   Weary with his long trip, the cold weather, and very preoccupied, Adam said nothing for the remainder of the ride home.

Adam mulled over what he had seen and heard - rather, what he THOUGHT he had seen and heard - as he rode.  What with the job of driving weary, unwilling cattle through the snow, mud, and ice, combined with the  burden of the limp stranger in his arms, he hadn't had much occasion to think on the strange circumstances of this soldier's appearance.  He had been driving the cattle from the high country, where they had scattered when he and the other men apprehended the rustlers, and had just come in sight of the Ponderosa, when he saw a flash of light.  He had blinked quickly, and it was gone.  He told himself that perhaps the sunlight had reflected off of something in front of him, but he knew better.  This "flash" had encompassed the entire sky and landscape before him, and it appeared that the sky had briefly opened.

Strange noises had echoed about ahead of him, sounds clearly defined, yet dim and distant as those he heard while approaching a bustling town from a distance.  Shouts, terrified screams, wails, and tremendous explosions, like gunfire only much louder, had emanated from the earth.  He thought the ground rocked slightly beneath him, and that he surely must be dreaming or seeing things, when Sport suddenly shied and reared back, nearly unseating him.  The cattle lowed and ran.  Adam was hard put to gain control of his horse and regroup the cattle before they scattered again.  As he turned to chase the recalcitrant bovines, he thought he saw, on the very edge of his vision, a dark, smoke-covered terrain with intermittent fires burning, people huddled in the shelter of crumbling buildings or desperately running, and strange-looking, heavy vehicles with wings jutting from the side rumbling over them in the sky.  Cursing his visions and the cattle, he drove the steers back to the Ponderosa fence line, where they finally settled down, huddled together, lowing fearfully with heads lowered.

It was then that Adam had seen the soldier.  He was lying in a shallow depression in the snow, right by the fence.  For a moment, Adam thought he must be imagining him, too, but no, he was real.  And alive.  Adam looked over his uniform, and recognized nothing, except the "U.S." on his lapel, which he thought must mean "United States."   He definitely was not a Union soldier.  But what was he?  Who was he?  Where had he come from?  And what, if anything, had what Adam seen and heard when Sport and the cattle  took fright, have to do with this man's appearance?  Or had he actually seen and heard anything?

Adam compressed his lips and set his jaw stubbornly.  Who knows what he had really seen, or what had happened!  He was tired:   tired of driving stubborn, bawling cattle through wind, cold,  and mucky terrain; tired of sleeping on the cold, wet ground, even if for only one night; tired of chasing rustlers, and very tired of keeping tabs on his younger brother, who should be old enough to keep his own hot head out of trouble.  He was just tired, that was all.  After a hot bath and a good meal, as well as a good night's sleep, everything would look better.

As they rode up to the house, Hoss and Ben emerged from the stable.  They were just as dirty, if not filthier, than Adam.  Hoss's blue eyes peered wearily from his mud-encrusted face as his brothers dismounted.  Adam helped Joe so he didn't drop the man Joe's now-numb arms were carrying.  As Hoss and Ben watched in a weary stupor, Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen door.

"You all late!"  he shouted.   "You late, and Hop Sing's meal ruined!"  He saw the limp burden Joe and Adam shared, and was suddenly quiet.  He hurried to them.  "Who is this? "  He peered closely at the man.  "He sick!  He need doctor!  Take him inside!  I fix bed."  Hop Sing hurried through the front door, leaving it open for them to follow.

Relieved that someone was taking charge, the Cartwrights followed their energetic cook and housekeeper.  As they proceeded to the bedroom, Hop Sing erupted with a series of shrieks and Chinese curses, intermixed with a volley of "No!  No!  No!"  Confused, they stepped back and looked in bewilderment at the small man storming about before them.  "Take off boots!" he insisted.

Too weary to debate the matter of not tracking mud in the house while they were carrying an unconscious man, the men removed their boots.  Adam took the stranger from Joe and carried him to the bed, and stripped off the soldier's muddy shoes and jacket.

Hop Sing pointed to Ben.  "You all wash," he said accusingly.  "I bring food to table.  You feed him-" he pointed at the stranger - "water and broth.  I get doctor."

"Hop Sing, wait."  Adam stopped their cook as he left the room.  He knew that Virginia City after dark was no safe place for Hop Sing to be wandering the streets, searching for the doctor.  "It'll be too dark, and it's threatening to storm.  I'll saddle a fresh horse, and I'll go.  You stay here and help Pa and the others care for him."

Hop Sing bristled angrily.  "I get doctor!" he insisted.  He pointed at Joe.  "You put horses in stable, and get fresh horse for Hop Sing while Hop Sing puts food on table!"

Joe looked at Adam, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.  Joe retrieved his boots from the middle of the floor, put them back on, and saddled a horse for Hop Sing.  As he cared for Sport and Cochise, he realized that he was probably the least tired of all of them.  His father and Hoss had been pushing cattle up a bank and through mud and snow, and Adam had been God knew where, chasing cattle down from the hills.  Both had been at it for two days.  At least he'd had one afternoon of rest as he waited for Adam, even though in the cold, instead of pushing or herding steers around.  Joe cared for the stock, and stumbled back in the house, hoping there would be some dinner left for him.

As Joe hurriedly gulped down what was left of dinner under Hoss's longing eye, Adam told his father how he had found the man.  Ben looked closely at his eldest, wondering if he was omitting something from his account.  Adam stared at his empty plate after giving his father a simple narrative of finding the stranger by the Ponderosa fence line.

"Did you see anyone, or anything?" queried his father.  "Anyone who may have left him there, or anything that may have indicated how he arrived?"

Adam shook his head.  "No, Pa.  I didn't see anything."  He swallowed as the realization that he had lied hit him like a blow between the eyes.  But maybe it wasn't a lie.  Had he really seen something?

Ben's eyebrows drew together as he studied Adam.  "Were there footprints, tracks of any kind on the ground?  Anything that would indicate how he came to be there, or who or what brought him?"

Adam rose abruptly from the table and poured himself a glass of brandy.  After hastily swallowing it down, he said, "There were lots of tracks, from the cattle and Sport.  They ran all over the place before I found him.  Once I got him up on Sport with me, it was all I could do to carry him and herd the cattle the rest of the way.  When Joe met me, it was a lifesaver."  He swallowed down another glass of brandy.

Ben watched Adam for a moment.  Finally, he looked away.  Obviously, his son would tell him the rest of the story when he was ready.   Finally, he went into the spare room to check on the stranger.  Adam rummaged through the saddlebags that Joe had brought in after tending their tired horses.

"What's that?" asked Joe.

Adam was holding a hat he had pulled from the saddlebags.  "I found this lying near him."  He handed to Joe a dark blue hat with a polished black brim.  Above the brim, on the crest of the hat, was an emblem of an eagle.

Hoss moved next to his little brother and peered at it.  He pointed to the eagle.  "What's that it's got hold of in its claws?" he asked.  "A feather?"

Adam shrugged, and took the hat from Joe.  "Not sure," he replied.  He didn't mention the obvious, that he hadn't had a chance to look very closely at it.  He took it into the room where his father sat with the stranger, and looked down at the man.

Ben was holding a bowl of soup broth.  "Did he eat anything?" asked Adam.

"I got a few dribbles of soup broth down him," replied Ben, "and he drank a few swallows of water."  He looked at the hat in Adam's hand.  "What's that?"

"His hat, I think.  I found it near him.  I put it in my saddlebag."  He tossed the hat at the foot of the bed.

"Has he spoken yet?"

"No, he barely opened his eyes.  I don't think he even saw me."

"Can you find any injuries on him?" asked Adam.  "I couldn't find any broken bones, bumps on the head, or anything.  But it's not like I could do a real thorough check at the time."

"No, I see no sign of current injuries," replied Ben, "though he does have some scarring on his face from an old one."

"Yes, I noticed that," said Adam.  He picked up the jacket from the foot of the bed and examined the regalia on it.  "What do you suppose all this means?"

"I'm not sure, son," admitted Ben.  "Most of it doesn't look familiar."

Adam touched the eagle on the shoulder of the jacket.  "This could signify  the rank of Colonel,"  he mused, "but it's smaller than what I've seen on the Union's army uniforms."  He studied the wings and the medal on the breast pocket.  If I could just figure out what this is, and what it means...."  He held it close to his face.

"I think we'll have to wait for him to wake up to let us know," said Ben gently.  He looked at the stranger again.  "I checked his pockets to see if there was anything in them, and I found this."  He handed Adam a leather wallet.  Adam opened it and pulled out some identification papers.

"Colonel James Daniel Donovan," he read.  "United States Air Force."  Stunned, he scanned the paper.  "Yankton, South Dakota."  He paused.  "South Dakota?  There is no South Dakota!  And what is the Air Force?"

"There's talk of creating another territory northeast of here, and calling it Dakota Territory," said Ben.  "But it hasn't been officially declared yet, last I heard.  I'll have to pick up a newspaper next time I'm in Virginia City."

"Isn't Yankton that settlement they just built, after that treaty with the Yankton Sioux?" asked Adam.  He looked again at the unconscious man before them.  "I'll have to check the newspaper for that, too, I guess.  But a man dressed like this, from Yankton?  That's still on the edge of the wilderness, near Indian territory.  There's still fighting going on with the Sioux further northwest of Yankton.  Even the U.S. Army has a hard time against them."

Ben shook his head in bewilderment.  "He's a soldier.  He must be stationed there."

"But Pa, this isn't an army uniform!  His clothes are all - different!"

"One thing's for sure," said Ben.  "He needs the doctor."  He looked at Adam.  "You go take a bath.  Tell your brothers to take one, too.  Hop Sing should be back with the doctor soon.  I'll stay here with him."

Adam took a last look at the soldier.  His lank blonde hair, cropped close to his head, contrasted with the deep red scars on the left side of his face.  Adam fingered his shirt and shook his head, wondering at the material, before he left the room.
 

Doc Martin was out when Hop Sing arrived.  He had returned home from delivering a baby reluctant to make his entrance into the world to find the cold, impatient, stubborn China man on his porch.  Despite the news he brought, Doc Martin preferred Hop Sing to spend the night at his house, and go to the Ponderosa in the morning, as it was too dark to travel with no moon.  But Hop Sing insisted, and the doctor, knowing he would get no reprieve until he agreed,  sighed, mounted his horse, and reluctantly followed the obdurate cook into the night.

Dawn was just appearing at the edges of the eastern horizon when Hop Sing and Doc Martin rode into the yard.  Hoss was sitting with the Colonel, as they were calling their guest, and reported that he had grown a little restless, but still didn't respond to anyone or anything about him.

Doc Martin looked him over.  "I don't see anything wrong with him.  His pulse is fine, his respirations are a little fast, but nothing to be concerned about, his lungs and heart sound fine, and he doesn't have  a fever."  He examined the side of the Colonel's face.  "Looks like he was burned.  How long has he been here?"

"Since yesterday afternoon," replied Hoss, and proceeded to tell the doctor how Adam had found him by the fence line.  Hoss showed him the Colonel's strange jacket, which the doctor looked at and dropped back down on the chair.

"Well, maybe he can tell us something about himself tomorrow morning.  Meanwhile, I've been up all night delivering a baby.  You don't suppose I could have something to eat and a bed, and see him when he wakes in the morning?"

"Uh, Doc, it is morning," said Hoss.

"All the more reason for me to finally get some sleep," said the doctor shortly.

"Yeah.  Yeah, sure, Doc," said Hoss.  "If you can't find nothin' wrong with him anyhow, you might as well sleep, I guess.  Uh, Hop Sing, can you rustle up some grub for the doctor here, and find him a place to sleep?  I'm gonna  get Pa to sit with this fellow a while, and go take care of the stock."

As soon as breakfast was over, Ben sent Joe and Adam to fix the fence.  As they rode out with the supplies, they saw dark clouds gathering in the west, relentlessly approaching on a cold, steady wind.  "We'd best hurry, and get this done quickly," said Joe.  "Another storm's blowing in."
 

It was late morning when the doctor knocked and entered the room.  "Hello, Ben."

"Hello, Doctor," greeted  Ben.  "We have a bit of a strange customer for you here, I'm afraid."

"So I saw, when I came in earlier this morning," replied the doctor.  "Help me undress him, will you?"  He again examined the Colonel for the next several minutes.  When he was finished, he put his instruments away.  "Ben, there appears to be nothing wrong with this fellow.  Everything seems fine with him.  There's no sign of illness, heart or breathing problems, fever, or concussion.  No broken bones.  He's not even in shock.  He has scarring from burns on his face, chest, and arms, but those have healed quite well, and certainly aren't the cause of his problems now.  I don't understand why he's not waking up and responding to us."  The doctor picked up the jacket from the chair near the foot of the bed.  "Do you know what this is?" he asked.  "I know it's no typical army uniform."

"No, we're just as puzzled about it as you are," replied Ben.  "We don't know what to make of it."

"Did you find anything on him that might identify him?"

"Yes, in his jacket pocket," replied Ben.

Doc Martin pulled out the wallet and read the papers therein.  "Ben," he said as he dropped the coat back on the chair, "I think we ought to inform the sheriff.  He may be a fugitive trying to hide from the law."

Ben stared at the doctor.  "What makes you say that?  If he was trying to hide, I don't think he'd choose such a strange get-up.  His uniform, his clothes, the material, his papers - it's all stuff I've never seen.  It's no Union uniform, as you know quite well.  And there is no - 'United States Air Force.'  If he was on the run, he'd try to blend in, not stand out."

"You have a point, Ben.  All the same, I think I'll notify Roy," said Doc Martin.  "It's worth letting him know."  He gathered his equipment.  "If he makes a turn for the worse, or doesn't wake up by the end of the day, let me know."  Ben and the doctor exchanged pleasantries, and the doctor headed back to town before the storm clouds could overtake him.
 

Joe and Adam had just finished straightening the fence posts and were starting to string the wire when a bright light flashed about them.  "Maybe we'd better stop," said Joe.  "Lightning and barbed wire don't exactly mix."

Adam put down his tools and looked about him.  "I don't think that was lightning," he said, though he knew that just about anything could happen during a storm.  He remembered the flash of light that had preceded his discovery of the Colonel, and looked about him apprehensively.

"If it wasn't lightning, what was it?" asked Joe impatiently.

"I don't know," Adam replied through gritted teeth.  He picked up the wire cutters.  "Come on.  Let's get this fence finished before the storm comes."  Tiny snowflakes flurried about them as they finally completed the task.  They  packed the supplies and mounted to hurry back to the house, looking forward to a crackling fire, a change into dry clothes, and a cup of hot chocolate or tea.

Suddenly, to the north of them, the sky opened again in a flash of light.  Adam looked toward it, fearful of what he might see or hear.

"That was no lightning," said Joe.  "What was that?"

Adam wanted nothing more than to go back to the house and forget all the occurrences of the past day or two.  He fought the gnawing curiosity drawing him to go investigate, and said, "Who knows?  Something to do with the storm blowing in.  The sooner we get back, the less of that we'll have to deal with."

"We should go check it out," insisted Joe.  Pa would want us to."

"Not when we're racing a storm," argued Adam.  "I've been out on the range for a couple days, chasing cattle, and I'm not going on a wild goose chase now.  Probably it was nothing more than a weird flash of lightning."

"That was no lightning," repeated Joe.  "You go back home, and I'll be back after I've looked that area over."  He rode off, despite Adam's protests.  Cursing under his breath, Adam followed his brother until he overtook him.  He didn't know what Joe would meet, and certainly didn't want him alone whenever he found whatever might be there.

If anything was there.

If anything had been there.

As they rode, spots of light mixed with darkness ahead of them.  Adam hoped he was ill or overtired, and rubbed his eyes.

"Adam!"

Joe's voice was behind him.  Adam stopped and turned around.  Though the lights were behind him, they still flashed before his eyes.  The snowfall was getting heavier, and it was hard to see his brother.  "What?"

"What is all that?"

"What is all what?"  Adam stubbornly refused to acknowledge the question.  "Haven't you seen snow before?"

"Don't you see it?"  Joe's voice rose in exasperation.  "Those lights!  And why is it so dark there?"

Adam was furious.  He didn't want to be here.  He preferred to ignore the lights.  He didn't want this to be happening.  "Why don't you go back to the house, little brother?" he asked sarcastically.  "Let me go check out those 'lights' you're seeing."  He turned to ride off, only to see the darkness and spots of light filling the sky above him and all about him.

Adam cringed at the sound of gunfire and ear-splitting explosions.  He heard a drone and whine, and looked up to see the winged vehicle of his previous vision.  It flew straight toward them, coming lower every second.  Adam recognized the sound of an engine that was much more sophisticated than that of a steam engine.  He bent low over Sport's neck.  Suddenly, the sound was gone.  He looked up to a cloudy sky with big snowflakes settling on his face.

"What was that?"  His brother's voice just behind him was filled with skepticism and fear.

Adam was silent for a moment.  "I don't know."  He stared vainly into the snow, hoping for a clue to what he had just seen.  He saw only snow and  increasing clouds.  "Let's get home."

As the brothers turned up their coat collars against the wind and snow and pushed their horses toward the house, Joe recalled his strange adventures at Ellen's house the previous October.  As he had driven home after dark that night, he had heard eerie, beautiful music from a stone quarry next to the road.

"Adam?"

"What?"  Adam asked tersely.

"Do you remember last fall, when I was supposed to take Ellen to that party, and we couldn't go?"

"Yeah.  I remember."

Joe hesitated.  His brother was likely to think him a fool.

Adam squinted and lowered his head against an especially hard blast of wind.  "What are you getting at?" he finally asked when Joe remained silent.

"Well....What I just saw back there made me feel - funny.  And I felt the same way when I was riding home from Ellen's that night last October."  He paused.  "Does that make any sense?"

"No," said Adam.  "But don't worry.  Nothing is making sense right now."
 

Colonel Donovan could hear the resonating booms above the noisy drone of the plane's engine.  Smoke rose as bombs fell, and the Rhineland burned.  The Allies were nearly into Germany.  If they could just get over the border, they could begin their march toward and attack on key German cities, and finally end this everlasting war.  As his squadron swooped down on the Axis forces on the other side of the Rhine, helping pave the way for the ground forces to capture a bridge for invasion, he heard the sound of rapid gunfire, followed by an explosion in the back of his plane.  He managed to eject from the aircraft as intense heat and light enveloped him.

When he awoke, his face was swathed in bandages, and his hands were tied to the metal rails of the bed.  He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't open them far enough to see very much.  He attempted to pull his hands free, and winced as the strips of cloth used to restrain him chafed his sore wrists.  Apparently, he'd been struggling to free himself for a while.  He tried to talk, but his mouth was dry and his lips cracked and sore.

He thought he saw people in white uniforms walking by, but no one came toward him.  He hoped someone would come soon.  He needed a drink of water, to find out where he was and what had happened to him, to find out what day it was, and if his wife was here.  He tried to call out, but couldn't raise his voice above a croak.  His struggles to free himself were again fruitless.

Suddenly, a strong arm slid under his shoulder and lifted him slightly.  "Easy, easy," a young man's voice crooned.  Water was dribbled onto his lips, and he opened his mouth desperately.  He yanked the glass to his face, spilling the water over the front of him.  "Easy!" exclaimed the young man again, as he grabbed the glass and kept some of it from spilling, and held it to his lips.

Jim Donovan looked about him after gulping down the water.  This wasn't the field hospital.  This was - where was this?  Home?  No.  There was no room at home that looked like this.  He suddenly realized he could see clearly, and that there were no bandages on his face.  Nor were his hands tied.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"At the Ponderosa, my father's ranch," the young man's voice replied.

Colonel Donovan looked for the first time at the young man by his side.  Sensitive green eyes in a concerned, youthful, handsome face framed by brown curls met his gaze.  Donovan gasped in mixed amazement and delight.  "Johnny?  Johnny!  You're - you're all grown up!  And - and you - you can sit up!"  He put his hand on the young man's cheek.  "Oh, it's so good to see you!  Where is your mother?"

"I - I'm not Johnny, sir," the young man replied as he gently removed the soldier's hand from his cheek.  "I'm sorry, but I'm not Johnny.  My name is Joseph Cartwright, and you're on my father's ranch, the Ponderosa."

Colonel Donovan was devastated.  He collapsed back on the pillows.  "Oh, I'm sorry," he moaned.  He looked again at this man Joseph.  "You sure look like my Johnny."  He closed his eyes.  "Are you sure you're not him?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sure," replied Joe.  "I'm sorry," he added.

The soldier opened his eyes and studied him again.  "What happened to your eye?"

Joe was painfully reminded of his foolishness that nearly cost him his life.  "Oh, I - got in a fight."

Donovan studied him.  "A fight."

"Yes, sir."  Joe felt as though he was talking to his father.

"A fight in the war?"

Joe looked puzzled.  "War?  No, sir, there is no war.  Except the Indian wars.  Is that what you mean?"

Colonel Donovan looked at Joe.  Indian wars?  He looked about him.  The paneled room shone golden in the sunlight streaming in the western windows.  He saw an oil lamp on a table along the opposite wall, and a candle on the nightstand.  These people apparently didn't have electricity.  They must live awfully far away from civilization.  He studied the young man, Joseph, again.  His clothes were old-fashioned, but clean.  His tousled curls were damp.  Apparently, he had recently bathed.  They seemed civilized enough.

"Where did you say I am?" he asked.

"On the Ponderosa, my father's ranch," Joe explained again.

"Where is that?"

"We're in Nevada Territory," Joe explained, figuring it best not to explain that Nevada was not yet organized as a territory, but soon would be.

Colonel Donovan looked at him with an expression of mixed terror and suspicion.  "Nevada Territory!  You mean the state of Nevada!  Don't you?"

Joe tried to hide his surprise.  "No, sir, I mean Nevada Territory," he repeated.  "We're not a state yet, though we hope to be later."

Colonel Donovan's eyes darted about the room.  Where was he?  What had happened to him?  Perhaps this was all a bad dream.  His eyes finally came to rest on Joseph.  He closed his eyes, and saw the green eyes and brown curls on Johnny, only three years old when he had left for the war.  Of course, this young man couldn't be Johnny.  Johnny was dead.  He remembered now.  His wife had notified him of his death while he fought in France, during the Battle of the Bulge.

Johnny had never been expected to live long.  The doctors told Donovan and his wife that he would probably never walk, and may never even sit up.  Most of the time, the doctors said, these children die while they are quite young.  Johnny would probably get pneumonia, or a childhood disease such as whooping cough or measles, and die.

Jim and Irene Donovan had been determined that their son would beat the odds.  They cared for him as best as they were able, despite constant chiding from family, friends, and doctors to put him in an institution that specialized in caring for children like him.  They refused to treat him as though he was fragile or special, instead insisting that he learn to live as normal a life as was possible for him.  He was a beautiful child, with brown curls corkscrewing from his head, and vivid green eyes with long lashes.  When Jim had left for the war after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Johnny had just celebrated his third birthday.  He was a bright, congenial child who needed constant physical care, but was a pleasure to be around.  He enjoyed being read to and playing with small toys that were placed within his reach.

But Johnny had died while his father fought the Axis forces in France.  Jim had cried when he received the letter informing him of his son's death.  But he couldn't leave, not when the Allies were engaged in one of the most crucial battles that may prove to be the turning point of the war.  After that battle was won, Jim had attempted to bury his grief in the battles to invade Germany.  After he was shot down, and lying helpless in a field hospital on the French-German border, he was brought face to face with his grief.  With Joseph's green eyes and curls in his mind, Colonel James Donovan slipped back into the shadows of memory.
 

The storm had blown by in less than half a day, followed by a beautiful, sunny late afternoon and magnificent winter sunset.  When Joe reported that the Colonel had spoken to him that afternoon, the day after Adam had found him, they were delighted.  The man was confused, as he was mistaking Joe for "his Johnny."  But he had obviously been through severe emotional trauma, and some confusion was to be expected.

The morning after the Colonel awoke, Ben paid a visit to the Willis family to invite them to spend Christmas at the Ponderosa.  Adam, Hoss, and Joe went searching for a Christmas tree.  As they rode into the hills among the tall Ponderosa pines, Hoss said, "Let's make sure it's the perfect tree this year!  Them Willis kids need to have a good holiday!"

"Hoss, you always make sure it's the 'perfect' tree," said Joe.  "We never can bring home anything less than the perfect tree, and that's why we ride all over creation!  Come on!  There's lots of good trees!  Let's pick one and be done with it!"

"But Joe, those kids have been through a lot!" exclaimed Hoss.  "They just lost their pa, and they need to have a good Christmas!  And that means a good tree!"

"You mean a perfect Christmas, and the perfect tree, don't you, Hoss?" joshed Adam.  "Let's see:  Is that the perfect tree over there?"  He brought the sledge to a stop and pointed to the right side of the path.  "Or how about that one?" He pointed to the left.  "Problem is, we can't pick out the perfect tree until we've examined every tree around, can we?"

"Oh, come on!" exploded Joe.  He didn't like being reminded of Tom Willis, or his now-fatherless children.  "Just pick a tree, will you?  And let's be done with it!"

Hoss and Adam stared at their brother in mute shock after this atypical outburst.  Joe clenched his teeth and stared ahead of him, unwilling to meet their gaze.

"Why, Joe, what's the matter with you?" exclaimed Hoss.  "This isn't like you!  'specially not at Christmas, when we're trying to help somebody, and cheer them up!"  Adam said nothing, but looked at his youngest brother with concern.

"I know!  I know!  I'm just sick of scouting around for the perfect tree!  Like it even exists!  Let's just cut a tree, and get it home!"

"Joe, what is eatin' you?" declared Hoss.

Joe buried his head in his hands.  "I don't know," he said haltingly after a long minute.  He raised his head and impatiently wiped his face with his sleeve.  "I should've been there," he whispered.  "I should've been there with you, by your side, when you were fighting those rustlers.  Maybe Tom Willis wouldn't have been killed, if I'd been there, instead of in town, fightin' mad."

"Joe -" Adam hesitated.  "What makes you so sure that things would've been any different if you'd been there?  The same thing could've happened anyway, you know."  He spoke gently, trying to calm his younger brother.

"If I'd been there, you would have been, too, Adam," said Joe.  "Pa wouldn't have had to send you to town after me, if I hadn't been gone.  The two of us might have made a difference."

"Little brother, you don't know that," said Hoss earnestly.  "For all you know, you or Adam might have been killed.  Some of the other men were injured.  None seriously, except Tom, of course.  But the fact is, you don't know what might have been.  No one does or can.  You were in town, Adam went after you, and that's that.  No one can change that.  All we can do now is help Tom's widow and children as best we can."

"I know!" said Joe with an anguished cry.  "I know!  But if I'd been there -"

"Joe, Joe!" said Adam, taking hold of his brother's shoulders.  "You weren't there.  You were going through your own private hell.  You don't know what might have happened, and neither does anyone else.  No one is blaming you.  Stop torturing yourself."  Joe looked into Adam's eyes, and collapsed in his arms.  The two brothers hugged each other tightly.

Hoss stepped down from the seat and walked over to them.  He clapped them on the back, and encased both of them in a huge hug.  "Let's get going, you two," he said.  "We want to do all we can for Tom's family, now, don't we?"  He looked at Joe.

Joe and Adam pulled apart.  "Yeah, Hoss," replied Joe.  "Yeah, we do."

"Well, a start to helpin' them out is making sure they have a real nice tree," said Hoss.  "Now, I was by here about a week ago, and I saw a real purty one up over the next rise.  Why don't we go look at it, and see if we can fit it through the door?"
 

The three brothers entered the house later that day to find the Colonel sitting at the table with their father.  An empty plate and glass were pushed back in front of him.

"Hello, Pa!" Hoss greeted his father.  "Hello - sir!" Hoss was unsure how to address the stranger.

"Boys," announced Ben, "come here, please.  This is Colonel James Donovan.  These are my sons, sir:  Adam, Hoss, and Joe."

"Call me Jim," said the Colonel in a pleasant voice.  Greetings, pleasantries, and handshakes were exchanged.

"Glad to see you feeling so much better, Jim," said Adam.

"Adam is the one who found you by my fence line a few days ago," explained Ben.  "I was just starting to tell you, as they came in, that we couldn't figure out what happened to you."

Jim's eyes moved back to the boys.  He looked intently at each one, until his gaze rested on Joe.  "I talked to you.  Didn't I?"

Joe nodded.  "Yes, sir.  You did.  Yesterday.  You talked to me for a few minutes.  But you were - confused, I think."

"You told me..." Jim sighed.  "You told me some strange things.  Maybe I was dreaming."

"No, sir, you weren't dreaming," Joe assured him.  "We did talk."

"Who are you, Jim?" asked Adam.  "We found your identification papers in your pocket, but we don't understand.  Where are you from?"

"Well, if you found my papers, you know who I am." Jim sounded slightly indignant and frightened.  "I'm Colonel James Daniel Donovan, and I'm a Colonel in the United States Air Force.  I'm from Yankton, South Dakota."

"Jim," said Hoss gently, " there ain't no United States Air Force, sir.  There's the Union Army, and the Navy, but no air force.  Can't rightly think what an air force might be.  And - there ain't no South Dakota, either.  There's some territory up northeast of here that might soon become Dakota Territory, but -" he shook his head - "no South Dakota."

"Yankton's near the southeast corner of what's about to become Dakota Territory," said Adam.  "That's still Indian territory, though, and it may take it a while for it to officially become a territory of the United States government."

Jim buried his head in his hands.  Adam and Joe exchanged glances.  Ben and Hoss stared at the man.  Suddenly, Jim raised his head and looked at Joe.  "Didn't you say something about - Nevada Territory yesterday?"

Joe nodded uncertainly.  "Yes, sir.  I did.  That's where we are, in Nevada Territory.  Well, we're not officially a territory yet.  But we will be."

Their guest looked at the table before him in shock.  "What is the date?" he asked faintly.

After a moment's hesitation, Joe replied, "It's December 23rd, sir."

"Of what year?" asked Jim.

Joe looked at his father in bewilderment, then replied, "1859, sir."

The Colonel looked about him with dread as he realized where and when he was.  Ben approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "Why don't you tell us the last thing you remember?"

Jim took a deep breath and looked around him.  He saw the oil lamps, the  hardwood floors, the old-fashioned rugs, and the antique furniture, not to mention the out-of-style clothing of his benefactors.  It was all so clear now.  Indian wars - Nevada Territory - Dakota Territory - 1859.  How had this happened?  And how could he ever get back to his home?

With his shoulders sagging, and staring into space before him, he began his tale.  "I was flying home from the war.  I was to attend an awards ceremony once I reached home, so I was wearing my dress uniform."  He looked at the clothes he was wearing.  "I don't know what happened to my uniform."

"We have it," Ben assured him.  "The doctor needed to undress you to fully examine you.  We put the uniform away, and gave you some of my clothes to wear."

"Anyway," the Colonel continued, "shortly after my pilot said we were over the Missouri/Nebraska border, we suddenly entered a thick fog.  We hadn't seen it coming.  I couldn't see an inch past my window, and the pilot couldn't navigate at all, because his instruments suddenly went haywire.  For a long time, he wasn't certain where we were.  We must have veered off course.  I thought we'd crash for sure.  I felt this tremendous jolt, and heard several explosions, but they sounded far away.  I must have passed out.  The next thing I remember is this young man -" he nodded toward Joe - "talking to me."

Ben's brows drew down over his eyes.  "Mr. Donovan, sir," he said, "there are several items from your 'account' that need clarification.  For starters, you say you were flying.  In a balloon?  If so, how could you get from the Missouri/Nebraska border to here, in the circumstances you describe?  No fog could last that long!  And you say your pilot's instruments 'went haywire'.  What instruments?"

Adam looked from Colonel Donovan to his father.  He felt his youngest brother's eyes upon him, and turned unwillingly to meet them.  Joe was watching him with a knowing, frightened expression, and Adam's fear grew as he returned the gaze.

Adam swallowed hard, and turned to his father.  "Pa, wait a minute."  He looked at their guest.  "Mr. - uh, Colonel Donovan, what were you - were you in a balloon when this happened?"

The Colonel looked puzzled.  "Why, no, sir, of course not!" he exclaimed.  "I was in a plane, of course!"

"A WHAT?!" exclaimed Hoss.

"A plane!" exclaimed Jim.  "An airplane!  Surely you have seen planes out here!"  Suddenly he realized the date:  1859.  No.  They had not seen planes.  Not if they were telling him the truth, and this wasn't some gigantic hoax.

"Colonel," said Joe, "the last you remember, when you were going home, as you say, what year was it?"

Jim swallowed and stared bleakly back at him.  "1945," he whispered.

"And what war were you in?" asked Adam.

"World War II," came the barely audible reply.

Joe and Adam looked at each other with mingled fear and understanding.  Ben's brows drew down even more.  "Mr. Donovan," he thundered, "I'm going to have to report you to the sheriff.  I can only assume -"

"Pa," Joe interrupted.  His father glared at him.  "He's not lying, Pa."

"Joe's right," agreed Adam.  "Colonel Donovan's telling -" Adam hesitated.  "He must be telling the truth."

Ben looked from one son to the other.  "Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to why you are so certain he's being truthful?"  he stormed.

Adam and Joe looked at each other, turned to their father, and shook their heads.  "No, sir," replied Joe.  "Not right now, at least."

"You'd never believe us," added Adam.  "I'm not sure I believe us," he silently added to himself.

Hoss stirred uncomfortably.  "Uh, why don't you tell us about the war you fought in, Mr. Donovan?"

Jim hesitated, unsure of whether or not to continue.  "I was a pilot in the war.  305th Bombardment Group, Eighth Air Force.  We were stationed in England, and I bombed enemy targets in France and Germany, mainly.  I fought the Germans in France at the Battle of the Bulge."  He shut his eyes as he recalled the hideous casualties of that battle and the terror surrounding him every moment.  His voice shook as he continued.   "Somehow, during the midst of that horrible battle, I received notification from my wife informing me that-" his voice broke and tears streamed down his face before he could continue in a hoarse whisper - "my son had died."  He was unable to continue for several minutes.  Hoss put his arm about the man in an attempt to comfort him.

"My Johnny!" sobbed Jim.  "He was a beautiful child!  He was three years old when I left in '42.  He had green eyes, brown curls, and was the spunkiest, happiest boy anywhere.  He was the best."

After a few deep breaths, Jim continued.  "Johnny had something wrong with him.  The doctors had a long, fancy name for it.  I don't recall it.  I only remember them telling me that he'd never walk, and he'd probably die before he even reached two years.  He was five, almost six, when he died.  We took care of him ourselves, we did, though most everyone about us told us to put him in an institution.  But he contracted pneumonia, and he died.  He died.  And I wasn't there!  I wasn't there to see him, or be with him.  I couldn't hold his hand; couldn't comfort him, or my wife.  No, I was at war, and in the midst of one of the most horrible and decisive battles in the war, as it turned out."

Joe swallowed and looked away.  He knew full well the agony involved of being one place and later wishing he was in another.

Jim buried his head in his hands.  "Once I knew my son was dead, and we finally were through with that horrible battle, I didn't want to go back."  He stopped while he mastered his emotions, then continued.  "After that, we were sent to help with the Allied invasion of Germany.  I was shot down as I bombed the German forces east of the Rhine.

"I woke up in a field hospital in France.  I was covered in bandages, with my hands tied to the bed so I couldn't aggravate my burns.  I doubted I'd recover - I really didn't want to - but I did.

"While I was still in the hospital, I was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for valor in battle."  He laughed mirthlessly.  "What valor?!  I only did what I had to do; what I was told to do.  Once I learned my son had died, I didn't care what I did, or what happened to me."  He shook his head.  "It was not valor that earned me that medal.  It was foolhardiness."

Ben pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his guest.  After wiping his eyes, Jim continued.  "A few months later, after I recovered somewhat, I could have gone home.  But I didn't.  My wife needed me, I'm sure.  But I couldn't go home and face her without our son there.  I couldn't.  So when I heard that people were needed in Germany to help with refugees, I volunteered to go.  Since I speak German fluently, they were glad to have me.  I sent a wire to my wife, and went to Munich, where I was to help reunite survivors of the concentration camps with their families, or at least help people find out what happened to members of their families who had been taken there."

"Concentration camps?" asked Adam.

Jim closed his eyes wearily.  "Hitler, the Fuhrer of Germany, incarcerated in forced labor and extermination camps anyone who was....different.  Anyone non-white.  Especially the Jews.  There were also blacks, gypsies, Christians and others who stood up for those they would take away...and the ones blind, deaf, deformed, or....crippled."  He uttered the last word in a whisper.  He couldn't go on.

"The Germans did this?" Ben asked incredulously after several moment's silence.

Jim nodded.

"Didn't anyone try to stop them?" demanded Joe.

Jim shook his head.  "Not at first.  Germany had already lost the last war, and no one believed they could really do what they were doing.  But they conquered one country after another, and scarcely anyone wanted to get involved in another war across the world."  He looked up at Joe.  "Our country didn't get involved until after we were bombed by the Japanese.  And no one could believe the reports of the killing in the concentration camps.  It seemed too incredible, too inhumane, to be true."

Jim's hands shook.  How could he describe the horrors of learning that large groups of people had been murdered by poison gas, while thinking they were showering?  How could he recount the nightmare of war-hardened troops, liberating a concentration camp full of live skeletal bodies behind barbed wire, only to find a crematory full of human skeletons?  And that wasn't even the beginning....

Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen.  "Colonel Jim's bath ready.  Come with me, please, if you are ready?"

Ben nodded.  "Yes, Hop Sing, thank you."  He helped the Colonel up from the table and led him to his cook, who anxiously assisted him to his bath.

"You eat, bathe.  You feel better.  Soon!"

Ben and Hoss looked at one another, then at Adam and Joe, who dropped their eyes to the floor.  "Boys, I can't buy what he's saying," Ben argued, as though to convince himself.  "The German Confederation is full of unrest and dissension.  There was a revolution about 10 years ago, and the Prussian king refused to rule over a united Germany!  The point is, Germany is not a strong, unified power, which it would have to be for what he is talking about to be true!  He's talking about a war - more than one war! - across the world from here!"

"He mentioned Japan, too, Pa," said Hoss, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"But Pa," protested Joe, "he's talking about 1945, not now."

"Is he?" thundered Ben.  "Or is he, as Doc Martin suspects, a fugitive from justice?"

"Pa," said Adam gently, "if he was running from the law, why concoct such a wild, unbelievable, inaccurate story?  Why wear such a get-up as he had on?  No, if he was running from justice, he'd try to blend in, not stand out!"

Ben hesitated as he heard his own words to the doctor echoed by his eldest son.  He looked at him sharply, wondering what he had seen, what he knew, that he wasn't telling.  "Maybe he's not right in the head," he muttered, more to convince himself than Adam or his brothers.

Adam shrugged.  "Maybe not.  But he deserves the benefit of the doubt.  Let's give it some time."

Ben sighed.  Adam was right.  This wasn't the time of year to be uncovering subterfuge, anyway.  They had company coming tomorrow, and the house had better be ready, and the hosts in the right frame of mind.  Anything that needed reporting to the sheriff could wait until after Christmas.  "Did you boys find that tree I sent you after?"

"Yes, sir!" exclaimed Hoss.  "We found us the perfect Christmas tree, didn't we now, Joe?"  Hoss and his brothers led their father outside to show him the tall, slender tree on the sledge.
 

While his hosts struggled to get the huge tree into the house, Jim attempted to relax in the warm water.  He was exhausted after telling his story to the Cartwrights, but his mind was in turmoil.  What he had revealed to his hosts had shocked them, though he could tell that Ben, and maybe Hoss, doubted his tale.  But what he hadn't told them now tormented him.

He saw in his mind the long lines of people waiting, for hours or days, for information about their loved ones who had been taken away before and during the war.  Munich, where he was stationed, was between 10 and 15 miles from Dachau, which he very quickly learned was the location of one of the worst concentration camps that had been established by the Nazis.

Jim shuddered as he recalled searching through endless lists of names and  documents that had been found when the Nazi soldiers abandoned the camp during the Allied advance into Germany.  At first, when telling distraught family members that their loved ones had been killed, he had wept, especially when pressed for details.  He had quickly overcome that reaction - too quickly, perhaps.  Very soon, he was speaking in a monotone, telling one faceless person after another that their love ones had died by poison gas, starvation, disease, or execution.  He watched himself walk calmly through each day, researching these horrible murders, and emotionlessly relaying the information to one agitated survivor after another.  He learned not to meet their eyes, and to turn away from their tears.

He found it increasingly difficult to sleep, and began to dread going to his quarters at the end of the day.  Countless times each night he woke to his own screams, drenched in sweat, with vague memories of nameless demons pursuing him in his swiftly fading dreams.  He began leaving a light burning at night while he slept, and found himself constantly looking over his shoulder whenever he was alone, especially when it was dark.

Then the sisters arrived.  He saw them far back in line, waiting patiently in their neat but travel-worn habits.  As they approached, he noticed their anxious yet hopeful eyes in careworn faces.  For some unfathomable reason, he began to dread their approach, and hoped that they would talk with someone else in their search for loved ones.  His hopes were unrealized as they came to him when they finally reached the front of the line after several hours.

Sister Marta Francesca addressed him politely but earnestly.  Her German was a little difficult to understand, as it was mixed with French.  She and her sisters came from  a small town west of Stuttgart.  That explained her dialect, thought the Colonel.  That was less than 60 miles from the French border, and the people in that area  were known for their peculiar smattering of French mixed with German.

As she told Jim what they wanted, he understood why he had dreaded talking to her.  He couldn't face these women.  He had to get away.  But all of their eyes were fixed on him, and there was no escape.  They had been to Baden-Baden, Sister Francesca told him.  That was where a lot of searches for those lost to the Nazis began, as it was the seat of the French occupational government after the war.  The authorities there had directed them to Munich.

The women were from the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy.  They were looking for their children.  The nun's words were punctuated silently by her sisters' nods of affirmation.  Their children, Sister Francesca explained, all had infirmities.  Many were mentally feeble, some were blind, or deaf; several could not speak as well, and many were in wheelchairs.  They had cared for these children for many years, the sister was careful to point out.  Some of them were orphaned; others from broken homes.  Quite a few were from loving parents who simply could not care for them.  These were the children God had given them, whom no one else wanted.  They had lovingly devoted themselves to their care.

They never thought their children were in any danger.  What possible threat could they pose to the people about them?  When the soldiers came to their small town for the Jews, it didn't seem to affect them.  They prayed that God would keep them and their children safe.  And so it seemed He did.

But one day, there was a knock on the door.  The sister who opened it encountered several grim, unsmiling soldiers, one of whom informed her they had come for their children.  The woman ran for Sister Francesca, but there was nothing any of them could do.  The soldiers went through the convent and took all their children.  They carried them outside and threw them into the back of an army truck as though they were sacks of cattle feed.  No amount of reasoning, pleading, begging, or weeping could dissuade them.  This was by order of the Fuhrer, the commanding officer tonelessly informed the sisters.  There was nothing he, they, or anyone could do.  When several of the nuns attempted to climb into the truck with the children, they were thrown or kicked out.  They begged to be taken with the children, to care for them, but were harshly refused.  Helplessly, they watched the truck and the soldiers disappear with the precious cargo.

Appeals to the town authorities met variously with stony silence, disapproving glares, shifting eyes, or threats of incarceration due to their sedition in supporting and caring for "undesirables."  The Fuhrer only wished to weed out the inferior, unproductive members of society.  Did they not wish to help?  Pleas to visit the children, to at least see them from afar, were refused.  This, along with all else the Fuhrer ordered, was for Germany's own good, the sisters were told.  They would realize this, and would thank him yet, IF they kept quiet and did not question him further.  The whole world would thank him.

Sister Francesca produced photographs of some of the children, and names and descriptions of all of them.  Jim's hands shook as he took them.  He did his usual search through the files, and finally found cross-referenced under "Stuttgart" the name "Convent of the Sisters of Mercy."  Several of the children's names were listed there.  Probably these were the ones who could tell the soldiers their names, Jim assumed.  Others were described by hair and eye color, or infirmity.  He searched further, and was fairly certain he found all of them.  Most had been sent to Dachau; some to Treblinka.  Further search through the files retrieved from Dachau showed that they had all died at the hands of doctors while being used for medical research.  Notes by the names or descriptions of those sent to Treblinka indicated those children probably met the same fate.

Through his tears (which rarely flowed now), the Colonel looked again at the pictures.  One of them was of a lad with a twisted body who appeared to be about five years old.  He had bright eyes, a lively expression, and a winsome smile.  Jim could tell that child wasn't mentally feeble.  His only "crime" was to be born in a body that didn't work right.  He could have been Johnny.  Any of them could have been Johnny.

Jim managed to stop his tears, and stumbled back to tell the sisters that their children had been killed by poison gas.  That lie was bad enough, but he could not bear to tell them the truth.  He managed also to inform them that some of the children, whose names or descriptions he provided, had been sent to Treblinka.   He was careful not to watch as they clutched one another and stumbled away, bent over and sobbing with grief.  He wondered what they would have done had he told them the truth.

That night, his nightmares returned worse than ever.  He awoke screaming, convinced that something was in the room with him.  He was sent to a hospital by his superior officer, where doctors determined him to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown after two intense battles, being shot down and injured, and the death of his son.  Dealing with the aftermath of the concentration camps was only adding to his stress, it was decided, so he was discharged and sent home.

He notified his wife of his impending arrival, who wired him back, saying his hometown wanted to hold a special ceremony for their decorated war hero upon his return.  He dreaded that ceremony as much as he dreaded returning to a home bereft of his son.
 

The four Cartwrights struggled mightily as they eased, jiggled, gently pulled, and finally shoved the gigantic tree through the door of the Ponderosa.  "Hoss, you've done it again!" growled Joe.  "Your 'perfect' tree is too big to get through the door!"

Hoss grunted as he strained to compress the branches so none broke as they brought the enormous tree through the doorway.  "You weren't complaining when we found the tree, Joe.  You said you thought it'd do just fine."

"I did not!" Joe hotly replied.  "I told you it was too big to get inside!  You insisted it was fine!"

"Enough, you two!" panted Adam.

At the same time, Ben snarled, "You boys always get a tree we can barely lift off the sledge, much less fit through the door!  Remind me to cut a bigger doorway once the weather gets warmer!"

"Pa, you say that every year!" declared Hoss.

"That's because I forget to do it in the summer, and it's too cold to do it when I need it!"

With a mighty heave, Hoss, who was holding on to the bottom of the tree, squeezed the great branches past the doorway and shoved the behemoth all the way into the room.  Ben, Adam, and Hoss were caught off guard and propelled forward along with the tree.  Adam stumbled and fell, closing his eyes tightly as the branches raked over his face.  Ben was dragged along with his arm caught tightly in the fork of the branch he had been holding.  Joe was swept off his feet and dragged along under the tree, which fell on top of him once his father and brother lost their hold.

"Hoss!" bellowed Ben, yanking his arm free, "Tell us before you do any more shoving like that!  We'd like to be ready!"

"Dadburnit, Pa, I'm just tryin' to get this tree inside!  If you three would hold on and pull like you're supposed to, everything would've been fine!"  Hoss still held his end of the tree off the floor.

"We have to know what you're doing before you go shoving the tree around like it's on a runaway train, Hoss!" shouted Adam.  He rubbed his sleeve over his face to dislodge pine needles.  "Next time, warn us!"

"All right!" exclaimed Hoss.  He watched his brother rub his face and his father massage his arm.  "Well, come on!  Are you gonna help me get this tree up, or not?!"  Ben and Adam glared at him, and Adam started toward him with fists clenched and a glint in his eye.

"Would somebody get this thing off of me!" shouted Joe.

Adam stopped in mid stride and looked down to see a few of the branches waving as his brother struggled under the tree.  Ben looked down in alarm.  "Hoss!" Ben exclaimed.  "Joe is caught under the tree!"

Hoss looked at his father in alarm, dropped the tree completely on the floor, and ran forward.  "Where?" he shouted.

"Right there!" roared Ben, pointing next to his feet.  "Get it off of him, now!"

Hoss seized the trunk of the tree and lifted it off of his brother, who crawled out, sticky with rosin and spitting pine needles.  Once he was clear of the branches, Hoss dropped the tree back on the floor, oblivious to Ben jumping out of the way.  "You ok, Little Joe?"

"Bleeeah!" Joe spat the last of the pine needles from his mouth.  "Yeah, I'm ok, no thanks to you, you lumbering ox!"

Hoss's eyes grew big, his mouth tightened up, and his brows drew together.  He started over the tree toward his younger brother.

"All right, now, that's enough!" said Adam, jumping between his brothers with a restraining hand on each of them.  Hoss stopped, but Joe slipped around Adam.  As he tried to punch Hoss, Adam tried to grab his arm.  Joe tripped over the tree branches at the same time, and fell back into the tree.

Adam tried not to laugh, but the sight of his brother's curls stuck full of needles and the fury in his eyes as he rose from the tangled, breaking branches suddenly triggered a fountain of mirth.  He stumbled back to sit on the floor, laughing as hard as he could.

Joe's attention was suddenly turned toward Adam.  He had only taken one step toward him, however, before Hoss stepped over the trunk of the tree and lifted his younger brother over it.  "Let me go, Hoss!" shouted Joe as he struggled to free himself.

Hoss waited for him to calm down.  When he didn't, he tossed him into a nearby chair.  "Cut it out, Little Joe," he said.  "We've gotta get this tree up.  So cut out all the foolin' around, and let's get it done."

Joe paid no mind, but shot out of the chair straight towards Adam, who still sat on the floor laughing.

"Joseph!" shouted Ben.

Hoss yanked him off of Adam, pulled him close, and slowly squeezed.  For a moment, Joe protested and struggled mightily.  His struggles grew more feeble, and finally stopped.  He gasped for breath.

"Are you gonna quit this nonsense, Little Joe?" asked Hoss.  "Or do you turn blue first?"  He dropped him on the floor and started for Adam, who was still laughing.  He opened his hand and drew it back.  "How about you, older brother?"  Adam scrambled to his feet and stepped hastily backwards, swallowing his laughter.

"Now, cut out this foolishness, and let's all help get this tree up," said Ben.

The four men slowly heaved the tree off the floor and moved it to the center of the room, where a large wooden tub sat ready next to several pails full of dirt and small rocks.  "Steady," groaned Ben.  "Let's get it into this tub, and then Joe, you put in the dirt and rocks once we tell you to."  Joe grunted his assent.

"Now, let's all lift it up into the tub-" started Ben.  Once again, Hoss gave a mighty heave, and the tree went up, then the trunk down.  Unprepared for his brother's mighty effort, Joe was lifted off the floor and swung about into Adam, knocking him over.  The tree fell over, knocking the knickknacks from the top of the bookshelf, which broke on the floor with a crash-smash-splinter-crunch.

"Consarn it!" bellowed Hoss.  "Can't you two do nothing right?"

"Thanks for the warning, Hoss!" Adam's sarcasm was unmistakable as he emerged from the branches once again.

"Pa said to lift it up!"

"Lift it up, not propel it through the ceiling!  And on the count of three!"

"He didn't say anything about countin' to three!"

"You didn't give him a chance!"

"Get this thing off of me!" Joe was pinned between the upper part of the tree and the stair bannister.

"Enough!" roared Ben.   Silence  immediately fell.  "Now, get hold of this tree, and when I count to three, lift it into the tub!"  Finally, the tree was successfully lifted off of Joe and into the tub.

Joe stepped back and looked at it.  "It's crooked.  Move it to the right."  As the other three were standing on different sides of the tree, they all attempted to move it in different directions.

"Right!" shouted Joe.

"Whose right?" snarled Adam.

"My right!  Towards the stairs!"   They complied.  "Uh, now it's too far to the right."  They moved it again.  Joe studied it critically from every angle.  "Um, it's tipped too far back."  They moved it forward.  "Now it's too-"

"Just-put-the rocks-and dirt-in!!" growled Ben through clenched teeth.
Joe opened his mouth, then shut it, and did as his father said.

Hop Sing came in the room.  "What are you doing?!   Door is standing open!  It is cold in here!"  He looked at the floor.  "Dirt and snow all over!  You careless, and drop tree, and break things!  Company coming tomorrow, and Hop Sing does not have time to clean up after big boys fighting!"

The men shut their eyes as he continued his tirade.  "Hop Sing, Hop Sing!" exclaimed Joe.  "We'll clean it up, ok?  We'll clean it all up!  Won't we?" he looked at his brothers.

Hoss glared at him.  "You oughta clean it up!"

"Me!" sputtered Joe.  "Seems to me you're the one who caused all the trouble!"

"You'll all clean it up!" thundered Ben.  The boys looked at each other and shrugged.

Adam and Hoss cleaned up the mess while Ben and Joe, mounted on ladders, anchored the top and center of the tree to the wall with wire.  While they admired their handiwork, Hoss grumbled, "Get over here, Little Joe, and help us clean up."  After a glare from his father, Joe complied.

The Colonel entered the room as the brothers swept up the last of the dirt and broken glass.  He had started to pull his sweater on as he felt the chill in the room, but let it slide down his arm as he stood transfixed.  Ben and the boys watched him as he stared at the tree.  A smile crept across his face, and his eyes grew moist.

"Come in, Mr. Donovan, and sit down," said Ben.  "Would you like something to drink?  Some tea, perhaps?"

For a moment, it appeared Jim hadn't heard him.  "Uh, yes," he finally stammered.  "Tea sounds delightful, thank you."

Ben went to the kitchen to ask Hop Sing to bring in some tea while Hoss and Adam moved a chair back by the fire for the Colonel.  When Ben returned, he told Hoss to return the ladders to the tool shed.  "Adam, you come with me to the attic and help me get the Christmas decorations down.  Joe, you stay here and entertain our guest."  He looked at Jim, wondering what memories were triggered by the tree that he and his sons had struggled to put up.  "Come to the fire, Jim, and sit down," he said gently.  "We'll be with you in a few minutes."

Hop Sing bustled into the room a moment later with a tray holding a steaming teapot, cups and saucers, plates, and cookies.   "Mr. Cartwright work hard at getting tree up.  Boys clean up mess, so I can bake cookies."  He served Jim a fragrant cup of tea.  "Colonel Jim eat, drink, and get strong, so he can go home.  Eat cookies now, before Mister Hoss come, or there will be no cookies!"

"Sounds like good advice to me!" Jim took several cookies while Hop Sing poured Joe's tea.

After Hop Sing returned to the kitchen, Joe and the Colonel sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their tea and munching cookies.  The room was slowly warming up after the door had been open for so long, but they huddled close to the fire.  The acrid scent of wood smoke, the comforting aroma of the ginger tea, and the sharp, tingling fragrance of the pine tree reminded Joe of Christmases long past, and brought the image of his mother to  mind.  He recalled helping her decorating the tree, and saw her sprucing up the house for the holidays.  When neighbors came to visit, she greeted them with frothy mugs of hot chocolate - a rare and expensive treat out West! - or a cup of hot, spicy tea.

"How strange," Joe thought.  "I'm the only one of my brothers who remembers his mother, and I barely remember her at all.  But I miss her so much!"  A tremendous wave of loneliness swept over him, and he wondered if Hoss or Adam felt as lonely when they thought of their mothers, if indeed they ever thought of them.

Jim sat down his teacup with a clatter.  His large hands were almost too big to handle the delicate china.  "Your tree is beautiful," he told Joe.  He stared at it for a moment.  "It reminds me of the last Christmas I had at home."

"When was that?" Joe asked.

"Three - no, four- years ago," Jim replied quietly.

"Did you have a tree like this?"

Jim opened his mouth as though to speak, then gave a deep sigh.  "No, not this big," he finally said.  "It was smaller, though it seemed as big, because it filled our whole room.  But our room was a lot smaller than this.  I had just been called to active duty, and had to leave right after Christmas, in January of '42.  We got the biggest tree we could find, and had a Christmas celebration that we hoped no one would ever forget."  He stared at the fire.  "Johnny - my son- had a wonderful time."  Jim swallowed hard.

"I - I'm sorry about your son, sir," said Joe awkwardly.

Jim nodded, acknowledging Joe's expression of sympathy.  "I wasn't there when he died," he said hoarsely.  "I should have been there."

"You couldn't be, sir, if you were fighting a war," reasoned Joe.  "At least you have a happy last memory of him."

"I still should have been there, or gone home after I was released from the hospital instead of staying in Germany," said the Colonel.  He suddenly stood up.  "Even if he was still alive, I wouldn't have recognized my son!  He would have been three years older than when I had left!  He wouldn't have known me, either!  I didn't know myself by the time I left Europe!  I was shell-shocked, exhausted, sick of seeing what people had done to one another during the war!   Fancy that:  a decorated 'war hero' who was afraid to be in the dark!"

Joe stared at him, shocked by his outburst.  He wondered what this man had gone through, and what he hadn't told them that could possibly be any more grim than what he had already shared.  "I'm sure he would have known you, sir, and been proud of you," Joe replied with quiet certainty.

Jim looked at him closely.  "What makes you so certain, Joseph?"

"He'd know you," Joe said with quiet confidence.  "And he'd be proud of you, the same way I'd know and be proud of my mother."

"Your mother?" asked Jim.

"Yes, sir," replied Joe.  "My mother died when I was a small child.  I barely remember her.  Not too long ago, someone came into town, saying nasty things about her; about her past, I mean, before she met and married my father.  I spent a lot of time fighting people, defending her honor."

Jim looked knowingly at him.  "That's how you got your black eye."

Joe laughed self-consciously.  "Yes, sir.  A fight over my mother, who is dead."

"But you believe in your mother."  Jim's voice carried across the room.

"Yes, of course!" Joe said defensively.

"Good!" exclaimed Jim.  "If a man won't fight for something he believes in, what good is he?  I had to go overseas to fight against the Germans and their allies, to do my part to keep them from taking over the whole world and destroying the freedoms and way of life I know.  I also had to miss my son's death while doing it.  Maybe I should have gone home right away after getting out of that field hospital.  My wife needed me.  But I was needed in Europe, too.  I certainly didn't do anything great after the war, and I  didn't do anybody proud, either.  I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown.  But I helped reunite families who were the victims of a vicious  war, though a poor job I did of it.  But if a man won't fight for what he believes in, for what he holds dear to his heart, then what good is he?"

Joe fought back tears to no avail.  "I -  I missed something, too, sir.  While I was in town, fighting drunken gamblers about my mother's honor, my father sent Adam, my oldest brother, to check up on me.  While we were both gone - because of me - my father and my brother Hoss had to leave with some other men to chase down some rustlers who had stolen some cattle.  They got in a shoot-out, and - one man was killed."  Joe swallowed and gasped, "If Adam and I had been there, we may have been able to have stopped it.  Maybe that man wouldn't have been killed.  But he's dead, and now his wife and children are alone-"

"Joseph!"  Joe stopped as the Colonel looked hard at him.  "Do you actually think you might have changed things?  How can you know what might have been?  How can you know that divine providence didn't arrange it in just such a way as this?"  Jim looked at the crackling fire behind the boy, and the pictures and Bible on the table pushed out of the way against the wall.  "Yes, you ran off, hot-headed, perhaps, defending your mother's honor.  And someone else died while you were away.  But your mother's memory is still there, unchanged, despite what anyone thinks or does.  Nothing can change your memory, unless you let it."  He looked sharply at Joe.  "You did what you had to do, at the time you had to do it.  Let it go at that.  Move on.  Your mother, I believe, would be proud of you."  Jim looked Joe in the eye,  and a tear rolled down his cheek.  "You look so much as I imagine my son Johnny would look, were he grown.  You are a young man, a son, anyone would be proud of."

Joe nearly choked.  "Even though I wasn't there during a shoot-out, when my father and brother needed me?  And when I took another brother away to check up on me, so he wasn't there either?  Even when a man with a wife and children was killed when I might have prevented it?"

"Even so; especially so," said Jim, "since you were fighting for someone you loved and believed in."  He smiled at the young man before him.  "So many of us, during this war, wished we could be two, or even three, places at once.  But we couldn't.  We had families; yet we were called on to defend our country.  We had to be one place in order to fight for what we believed was important in another."  He smiled as he fought tears.  "You've done well, John- Joseph.  You did the best you could.  And that's all anyone could ask."  He put a strong hand on Joe's shoulder.  Joe looked him in the eye and tried to smile through his tears.

A strong gust of wind blew the tree's branches about and rushed up the chimney as Hoss came back in.  "It's gettin' colder 'n ole Billy b'dang out there!  I think there's another storm blowin' in!  I sure hope Mrs. Willis and them kids can get here tomorrow!  I'm thinkin' maybe one of us should go there and get them, instead of lettin' them drive over here alone!"  He hurried to the fire and stood in front of it, rubbing his hands together.  "Hey, Joe, where's Pa?  I need to talk to him about something."

"Pa went up to the attic with Adam to get the Christmas decorations down," said Joe.  He looked toward the top of the stairs.  "I think I hear them coming back downstairs now."  Scraping and thumping noises resounded over their heads, followed by Ben and Adam's footsteps descending the stairs.  Hoss and Joe helped carry several big crates down the steps.

"Well, come on, everyone, let's start decorating!" exclaimed Adam.  He looked around the room.  "Where are the ladders?  We can't get the tinsel on the tree, or any decorations near the top, without them."

"Dadgumit!" exclaimed Hoss.  "Pa, why did you tell me to take them ladders back out to the shed?  Now I gotta go back out in this cold to get them!"

Everyone except Hoss laughed.  "No, Hoss, just leave them until tomorrow," said Pa.  "I think the Willis family will enjoy helping us decorate the tree.  Besides, I think I've had more than enough of this tree for one day!"

Hoss furrowed his brow and frowned.  "What makes you say that, Pa?"  Much to his chagrin, everyone laughed again.  "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Hoss, some of us nearly died to get this tree up," Adam reminded him.

Hoss's brows drew further together.  "Well, it wasn't my fault!" he growled.

"No, no, of course not," Ben placated him.  "We were all just hungry, and tired, that's all.  We ARE all hungry and tired, and need something to eat."  He looked hopefully toward the table.  "Surely supper will be ready soon," he muttered wishfully.

As if on cue, Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen door and began setting the table.  "Supper almost ready.  Wash up, and sit down, or chicken and dumplings will be ruined."

"Chicken and dumplings!  Now, don't that sound good!" exclaimed Hoss as he made a beeline for the table.

"Wash up!  Wash up!  I do not feed boys with dirty hands and faces!"  Hop Sing waved all of them away from the table and through the door, where they proceeded to wash up.

As they started to eat, Hoss said to Ben, "Pa, I saw some strange goings-on outside while I was taking them ladders back to the shed.  There were lots of lights off to the north, and strange, loud noises.  I couldn't figure what any of it might be."  He took a big bite of chicken.  "Maybe we ought to go out and take a look around after dinner.  Or tomorrow morning.  Can't do much in the dark, but we would be able to see those lights, if they come back."

Joe and Adam stopped eating.  Adam put his fork on his plate, while Joe's fork remained suspended between the plate and his mouth with a tantalizing bite of chicken with gravy on it.  Ben was staring at Hoss, meaning to ask him what he meant by lights and noises, but turned instead toward his other two sons.  Joe and Adam looked first at Hoss, then at each other.  When they noticed their father looking hard at them, they immediately turned their attention back to their food.

Looking at his oldest and youngest sons, Ben said, "What do you mean, Hoss?  What kind of lights, and what sort of noise?"

"Well, uh -" Hoss looked from his father to his brothers.  "It's kind of hard to explain, Pa.  Real bright lights flashing around, some big flashes, some little.  And lots of noise - a loud, roaring type of noise.  But it all happened real quick, before I came in."  Hoss watched his father as he studied Adam and Joe.  "Pa," demanded Hoss, "what's going on around here?"  He turned to his brothers.  "What are you two keeping from us?"

Joe sneaked a glance up from his plate toward Adam, who kept eating.  "Nothing, Hoss," said Joe.  "We're not keeping anything from you."

Adam glanced quickly at the Colonel, who was hungrily devouring one of the best meals he'd had since he left for the war.  Jim smiled politely at Adam in between mouthfuls of dumplings and beans.  As he took a sip of piping hot tea, he noticed Ben's blazing brown eyes beneath lowered brows glaring at him with scarcely muted fury, and drew back, puzzled and alarmed.  As all eyes at the table turned toward him, he put down his cup and said, "Gentlemen, is something amiss?"

Adam looked at his father.  "No, sir, Colonel," he replied.  "Nothing's wrong.  We're just - tired, that's all."

"Yeah," agreed Joe.  "We're tired.  Aren't we, Pa?"  Ben said nothing, but looked hard at Joe and Adam.

The Colonel sighed, and looked down at his plate.  "I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble," he apologized.

"It's no trouble, sir," Joe assured him.  "You're no trouble at all."

Ben managed to give a tight smile to his guest.  He leaned slightly toward Hoss and hissed, "You must have been seeing things!"

Hoss shrugged and kept eating.  Maybe he had been imagining things, as his father thought.  It had all occurred so quickly that he couldn't be certain.  But now, the house was warm, the food was good, and Christmas was coming.  He'd worry about what he had seen outside - if he had seen anything - later.
 

Hoss awakened suddenly during the night, and listened intently.  Some sound had roused him immediately and completely from a deep sleep.  He wasn't frightened; he hadn't even been startled awake, but he knew that something was amiss.  He listened closely to the deep silence of the Nevada night about him.  Faint light from a very thin crescent moon came through the window, and he could see a few stars in the sky from where he lay in bed.

There it was again!  A deep, resonating sound echoed about outside.  Hoss threw the covers back and rose stealthily.  As soon as his feet touched the cold floor, he hastily pulled on his socks.  He grabbed his robe from the foot of his bed as he went to the window, and pulled it tightly about him.

He looked out into the eerie blackness lit only by the sliver of moon.  The resonating vibrations grew more focused and changed pitch, growing higher, then lower.  Hoss furrowed his brow as he looked at the sky, hoping to see the moon was behind a cloud, and might soon give more light.  But the moon rode in a clear sky, and was already beginning its descent to the west.

Hoss saw Andromeda and Cassiopeia in the western sky, and watched them for a moment.  He swore that bright, fuzzy star in Andromeda winked at him.   The two constellations were lower in the sky than they had been last October, when Adam had pointed out that star to him.  His brother had mentioned it more than once in that peculiar way of his, and had always emphasized how bright it was.  Adam had a funny way of putting things.  He talked as though that star could be another whole world in itself.

The fluid sound vibrated up the stairs.  Hoss turned around, half irritated.  "Doggone if that isn't Adam playing his guitar, waking everyone up!"  But he knew it couldn't be Adam's guitar, unless Adam was making it play differently than he had ever heard it.  He left his room and went quietly down the hall to the stairs.  He suddenly stopped, and his breath caught in his throat.  Someone was standing there.  He could see nothing in the dark, even with the moonlight dimly illuminating the hall outside his room, but he could feel someone there, and he had heard the scritch of clothes against the wall.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"It's me, Hoss," he heard Ben reply from the top of the stairs.

"Pa?  What's that sound?"

"I don't know, son.  Maybe some of the hands are up to something in the bunkhouse."

Neither of them could figure what that something might be.

"I thought it might be Adam's guitar," said Hoss.

"It's not a guitar," said Ben.  He didn't say what he thought it could be.

"Sounds like it's coming from downstairs now," said Hoss.

As the two men descended the stairs, the sound faded away.  They looked about, but found nothing.  "Well, perhaps we were dreaming," said Ben.

Hoss started to say it was a pretty strange dream that happened at the same time, the same way for both of them, but jumped instead.  His eyes grew big, and he pointed to the window next to the table.  "Pa!  Look!  There's those lights again!"

Ben turned around.  Through the window, he could see lights flashing in the northern sky.  A low rumble resounded from far away, growing in intensity until the windows shook.  Heedless of the cold and his nightclothes, Hoss ran to the door.  "Hoss!" called Ben.  "Don't go outside!"

But Hoss ran out anyway, leaving the door open behind him.  Ben ran to the doorway, and both stared above them.  Something huge with flashing lights was flying directly toward them.  The low rumble had become a roar.  Hoss and Ben both ducked, fearful that whatever it was they were seeing would hit the house.  Suddenly, it disappeared.  The lights and sound were gone as well.  They searched the sky all about them, but only the stars shone, and the moon set as they were looking.

Ben took hold of Hoss's arm.  "Come on, son.  Let's get inside."  As he left the mystery of the lights and flying machine outside, Hoss took one last look at the western horizon.  Andromeda once again twinkled brightly at him.

Ben shut the door, and father and son looked at one another.  Then Ben stared at the floor while Hoss peered anxiously out the window, hoping and dreading to catch another glimpse of whatever spectacular sight he had just witnessed.   "Pa," said Hoss, "what did we just see out there?"

"I - I don't know," said Ben.  "Maybe we need to go to bed.  We must be - seeing things."

"Together?"  Hoss shot the word like an accusation.

Ben was speechless.

"Pa, we need to figure out what just happened!  We aren't dreaming, and we can't imagine the same things together!  Now, let's go back out there, and see what we can find!"

Ben put a restraining hand on his son's arm.  "Hoss, what makes you think we'd find anything?  There was nothing there when we went inside.  Besides, it's too cold and too dark to be going back out there tonight."  Hoss stared at him for a moment, wanting to argue but finding no words.  "We can always check tomorrow morning for - footprints, or, or tracks," continued Ben.

Reluctantly, Hoss nodded.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I guess we can do that."  He nodded again.  "First light."

Ben resisted the urge to turn and look out the window.  "We'd best get back to bed.  We have company coming tomorrow, and a couple of big days ahead of us."  Wordlessly, Hoss preceded his father up the stairs.

The music wove itself into Adam's dreams, which shifted from slogging through the mud after stubborn, bewildered cattle to a concert hall he had frequented while in Boston.  "What am I doing here in my muddy clothes?" he asked himself as he gazed at the other impeccably dressed patrons and then looked down at his dirty, bedraggled clothing and riding boots.  "I don't believe I came here dressed like this!   They'll think I'm just a cowhand!"

Finally, the music penetrated his consciousness, and he recognized it as the cello music he had heard that night last October, after Joe had come home so late from an outing with Ellen.  Fully awakened, he opened his eyes and stared at the darkness about him, trying to convince himself that he wasn't actually hearing what he was hearing.  As the music grew louder instead of fading away as he willed it to do, he turned over and put his pillow tightly about his ears.  Long before he could settle down enough to go back to sleep, however, a deep rumble that vibrated from the floor up through his bed made him open his eyes.  He saw lights flashing against the trees outside his window, and heard the now-familiar low rumbling noise increasing to a roar.  He hurled the covers over his head, wrapped the pillow back around his ears, and buried his face in the bed.

Joe started out of a sound sleep when he heard the music.  He bolted upright in bed, and stared about him.  For a moment, he thought it was last October, after he had returned from Ellen's, and had heard that music on his way home.  As the sound faded, he realized that it was two months later.  It must be Christmas Eve by now.  What was that sound?  Why was he hearing it again, here, now?  Maybe Adam....?  No.  That wasn't Adam's guitar.  Adam never woke anybody when he couldn't sleep, unless something was wrong.

He held his breath, trying to detect any sound in the silence now about him.  There was something....He fancied he heard a low rumble.  His window rattled, and so did the breath in his throat.  As the roar surrounded the house, he put his hands over his ears and waited for it to stop.  He saw the trees outside dimly illumined in flashing light, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  In the sudden silence that followed the sound, he heard the door close downstairs, followed by stealthy footsteps on the stairs and in the hall, and two bedroom doors closing.  He lay back down and tried to go back to sleep.  It took a long time for his ragged breathing and pounding heart to get back to normal.

Early the next morning, Joe went to the barn to help with the chores.  He saw footprints in the shallow cover of new snow that had fallen after they had brought the tree in the house the night before, and noted with surprise that they didn't lead to the stable, but continued out of sight in the opposite direction. One of his brothers must have gone for a walk this morning, he mused.  He lit a lantern and began feeding the stock.  Just as he was wondering if either of his brothers was going to join him, Hoss entered the barn.  He grabbed a pitchfork and assisted Joe in mucking out stalls.

"G'morning, brother," said Joe.

"Mornin', Joe."

They worked in silence for a moment.

"Been someplace already this morning?" asked Joe.

"I, uh...just went to check on a few things over by the corral.  Pa wanted me to...to, check on the fence over there."

"Oh?  What was wrong with the fence?"

"He, uh, wasn't sure; that's why he wanted me to check it out."

They worked in silence for a few moments, then Hoss nervously cleared his throat.  "Say, Joe?  Did you...umm....hear anything last night?"

Joe stopped working and stared wide-eyed at his brother.  The memory of the sounds that had awakened him the night before, forgotten and distant as a dream when he rose that morning, suddenly returned.  "Hear anything?"  He turned back to his work.  "Like what?"

Hoss sighed.  How could he explain this without sounding as though he was crazy?  He returned to work with a vengeance.  "Well...let me put it this way:  Did anything wake you up last night?"

Joe considered the question for a moment.  "Yeah, I had some dreams," he admitted.  They finished the chores in silence and went in the house.

Adam poured himself another cup of coffee and bit into a warm biscuit.  His father had just told him to leave shortly after breakfast to pick up the Willis family.  Adam swallowed his bite of biscuit and said, "Will there be room enough in the sleigh, do you think?"

"I should think so.  There's Mrs. Willis and the three children, and you.  There should be room enough."

"But they're staying for two nights," said Adam.  "They'll have bags."

"Well -" Ben looked puzzled.  "How much can they bring?"

Adam raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  They could sit on their luggage if need be.

"Adam," Ben said earnestly, then paused.  Adam took a deep breath.  He thought he knew what was coming.  "Last night," Ben continued, "did you - hear anything?"

Adam opened his mouth, and quickly shut it.  "Hear anything?"

"Yes!  Any - noise, music, or - well - any sounds - you know..."

"Sounds," said Adam.  "Uhhh..."

The spare bedroom door opened and the Colonel appeared.  "Good morning."

"Good morning, Jim," Adam and Ben echoed.

"Sit down, and have some breakfast," said Ben.  "Hop Sing will be right out with some more coffee."

Jim helped himself to a biscuit.  While Hop Sing set a platter of bacon and eggs on the table, along with another pot of coffee, Ben asked, "I trust you slept well last night?"

"Yes, I did," said Jim as he enthusiastically served himself a large portion of food.  "Better than I have in a long time.  I imagine that good dinner I got last night helped.  A man doesn't get such good food on the battlefield, you know.  Or even elsewhere while he's serving in the air f- the army.  There's nothing that can beat good home cooking."  Hop Sing beamed as he returned to the kitchen.

While Jim hungrily devoured his meal, Adam drank a final cup of coffee .  "Well, Pa, Jim," he said as he stood, "I'm off.  I'll tend to a few things in the barn, then I'll get the Willis family."  As he left the house, Joe and Hoss entered.

"Mr. Donovan," Ben was saying as Hoss and Joe took off their coats, "you mentioned yesterday that you speak fluent German."

"That's right."  Jim scraped the last scraps of food from his plate to his mouth, and helped himself to more.  "My mother grew up in central Pennsylvania, with the Pennsylvania Dutch.  She spoke German as a child, and I learned it also as a child, from hearing her speak it.  There was a German community not far from where I grew up in Illinois, and I had some friends among the children there.  I didn't have much trouble understanding folks in Germany once I got there."

Ben tried not to stare at his guest as he ate.  "What was it you said you did in the war, Mr. Donovan?"

The colonel looked at his host for a long minute, noting his serious attitude, yet detecting an underlying discomfort.  "I don't expect you to believe me, Mr. Cartwright, but I flew a fighter plane.  An airplane."

"And what exactly, Colonel, is an airplane?" asked Ben.

Joe and Hoss slowly approached the table as Jim answered.  "An airplane is a machine that flies in the sky.  It is big, and heavy, but is shaped in such a way and has engines that allow it to fly.  We've had the technology for airplanes since - oh, since 1903, though it has come a long ways since then."  He took another sip of coffee as Hoss and Joe sat down.  "An airplane would appear to be pretty strange to you.  Big, heavy, and noisy.  I flew a fighter plane.  We dropped bombs - like your grenades, only from the air - on enemy targets."  He put his fork down, as though his appetite was suddenly diminished.

"So it would make enough noise to wake a man up, if it flew over his house at night?" asked Hoss.

Jim nodded.  "That's right.  If it was flying close enough, or if you're not accustomed to sleeping through it, it would wake you  up."  He looked closely at Hoss, wondering at the question.

Ben looked at Hoss.  "Good morning, Hoss, Joe."

The brothers nodded.  "Good morning, Pa."  They divided the remains of breakfast between them, and Hoss scowled at the pitiful portion before him.  Fortunately, Hop Sing returned from the kitchen at that moment with yet more food, muttering under his breath in Chinese.  Hoss gratefully scooped another generous offering of food onto his plate.  Joe snatched the platter from his brother and dumped the rest on his own plate.

"Did you sleep well, Joseph?"

Joe looked at his father, puzzled at the unusual question.  "Uh, yeah, Pa, I slept just fine, thanks."

"You didn't hear anything?" probed Ben.

Joe nearly choked as he swallowed his coffee.  "No, Pa, I - well, I - had some dreams.  But nothing bad, and I don't remember what they were," he rushed to say before his father could ask more questions.

Ben looked at his youngest son as he refused to meet his father's gaze, and then looked at Hoss.  Everyone finished eating in silence.
 

When Adam pulled the heavily loaded sleigh before the door early that afternoon, the horses were blowing and their sides heaving.  Adam had managed to fit the lady and three children, along with all their luggage, into the sleigh, though he privately wondered how many bags of clothes and other belongings it took for a family to manage for a couple of days away from home.  Elizabeth and John, the two youngest children, had to ride on top of some bags, while Paul, the eldest, held one on his lap, as did their mother Joanna.

Before Adam had completely stopped, the children began leaping to the ground.  "Whoa!" shouted Adam, yanking hard on the reins so the children wouldn't get caught under the runners.

"Paul, come back here!" called his mother.  "You help Mr. Adam carry the bags in the house," she admonished him as the youngster turned back impatiently.

The other two children ran to the door.  Elizabeth stopped, but John reached up with both hands and turned the doorknob.  As he disappeared into the house, his sister turned around.  "Mama!  John just went inside without knocking!"

"Oh!" Her mother shook her head in frustration.  "That child!  You should have held onto him, Elizabeth!"

"Paul ran in, too, and threw his bag on the floor," Elizabeth said.

Adam laughed.  "It's all right," he assured her.  "Let them go in."  As he saw her lift a bag from the sleigh, he added, "Please, Ma'am, don't bother.  My brothers should be out in a minute, and they can help me.  You just go on inside."

"Nothing saying I can't carry my own bag," she said as she determinedly lifted it.

"Mama!  Mama!"  Adam and Joanna turned to see John standing outside the front door, which was wide open.  "You should see this tree they have!  It's huge!  It's the biggest tree I've ever seen anywhere!"  Laughter echoed behind him in the house.

"John, where are your manners?" his mother chided.  "Running into the house without knocking, without being invited in!  And you've left the door standing open!"  She and Adam made their way to the house.

"But we were invited, Mama!  Remember?  Mr. Cartwright invited us!  And Elizabeth left the door open, not me.  But I'll shut it."  He ran inside and shut the door just as Adam and Joanna, their hands full of luggage, reached it.  Mrs. Willis rolled her eyes toward Heaven in a mute appeal for help, while Adam laughed, put down a bag, and pushed the door open.

Hoss was pulling tinsel out of a crate on the floor, and feeding it up to Ben on the ladder, who twined it carefully about the tree as far as he could reach.  Joe, also on a ladder, then took it and put it about the other side of the tree.  After the long strands of silver and gold tinsel were in place,  they would hang the ornaments.

Ben descended the ladder, and went to greet his guests.  "Hello, Mrs. Willis!  How nice to see you again!"

"Hello, Mr. Cartwright," she replied.  "Thank you for inviting us.  The children have been so eager to come."  She stopped as she saw Hoss grab John by the seat of the pants as he scampered up the ladder.  "John!" she reproved.

Ben laughed.  "It's nice to have some young ones excited about Christmas in the house."

"Come sit down, all of you," ordered Mrs. Willis.

"But we've been sitting," said Elizabeth.  "Can we go outside and make a snowman?"

"I think there's enough snow out there for a snowman," said Joe.

"You've been out in the cold long enough," objected their mother.  "Get warmed up, and maybe Mr. Cartwright will let you help decorate the tree."

But the children were already pulling on their coats and other wraps.  As he hurriedly wrapped his scarf about his neck, Paul nearly knocked a lamp off of the table in his excitement.

Joanna Willis threw her hands up in surrender.  "All right!  All right!  Go outside, and freeze again, before you tear the house apart!  But if you don't settle down when you come back in, we'll get back in that sleigh and go right back home!"

Upon hearing these words, Adam groaned and rolled his eyes as he struggled inside with yet more luggage.  The children skillfully dodged him as they dashed out the door.  In his effort not to step on or run into them, Adam tripped, and fell on the bags he was carrying.

"'Scuse me, Adam," said Joe as he jumped over his brother and ran out after the children.

Adam disgustedly untangled himself from the luggage, and slammed the door shut after his younger brother.  "While the little kids play, how about some help with this luggage, Hoss?"

"Sure, Adam."  Hoss moved one of the ladders out of the way so no one would run into it when the room was full again.  He picked up several of the bags and headed toward Adam's room.  As Adam opened the door, letting the cold in, Hoss turned and stared at him with a puzzled look.  "Where are you going?"

"To get some more of it."

Hoss glanced at their guest, who was deep in conversation with their father.  "You mean there's more?" he whispered.

"You have no idea," Adam whispered back.

Finally, the bags were upstairs, the sleigh put in the barn, and the horses  tended.  Hoss went outside to help build the snowman, and discovered a snowball fight in progress instead.  Adam gathered what he would need from his room while their guests stayed, and moved his belongings to the study.

Hop Sing had brought out some tea shortly after the children went back outside, and had promised gingerbread cookies in a while.  As Joanna Willis warmed herself before the fire with a cup of tea in her hand, she told Ben, "I can't tell you what it meant to the children to be invited here for Christmas.  Losing their father was such a devastating blow."  She stared bleakly into the fire.  No tears came to her eyes.  She had spent them all.

"We were all very sorry about Tom," Ben gently replied.  "I wish there was something more we could do."

"Just having us here for the holiday is doing a great deal," the widow replied.  She gazed at the tree.  "What a magnificent tree!"

"Thank you!  The boys had quite a time finding it.  They always outdo themselves."

"So it would seem.  I imagine it was rather difficult to get up, wasn't it?"

"Well....yes, now that you mention it, it was a tad difficult."  Ben laughed as he recalled the near catastrophes that had occurred while bringing that tree into the house.  "We were looking forward to having the children help us decorate it."

"They'll enjoy that Ben," she said gratefully.  "But they mustn't get on the ladders.  I could see them leaping off the ladder onto the stairs!"

"My boys will help them," Ben assured her.

Hop Sing came into the room with more tea, cups, and plates, along with a pitcher of milk.  He was followed by the Colonel who carried a big platter of gingerbread cookies.  As he sat the huge assortment on the table by the fire, the Colonel announced, "We have cookies!"

"So I see!" said Ben.  "All shapes and sizes, too!"

"They look and smell delicious," said Joanna.

"Make lots of cookies for company," said Hop Sing.  "Colonel want to help, so I have him decorate cookies!"

Jim smiled.  "Figured I might as well make myself useful."  He looked at Mrs. Willis.  As Ben hastened to introduce them, Hop Sing went to the front door and called everyone in for gingerbread cookies, tea, or milk, then angrily scolded as they tried to run in without wiping their feet or removing their boots.

 At their mother's insistence, the children lined up and picked out only a few cookies apiece, which they carried to the table, despite their desire to eat with the adults by the fireplace.  Jim poured their drinks and carried them to the table.  "Here's tea for you," he said as he set a cup before Paul.  "And your mother said you could have cambric tea, my dear."  He placed the weak tea with plenty of milk in it before Elizabeth.  As he placed a large glass of cold milk in front of John, he said, "And you get the biggest glass of milk in the house."   John looked at it and frowned for a second.  He looked longingly at his sister's cambric tea and his brother's tea.

Elizabeth pulled her drink out of his reach.  "You asked for milk," she reminded him.

"That's the best milk in the house," assured Jim.

John picked up the glass and took a taste, then nodded his approval and set it down.  "It tastes real good."  He took a big bite of cookie, then looked curiously at the man before him.  "Aren't you going to eat?"

"No, I sneaked a few cookies out in the kitchen," Jim whispered.

"Didn't Mr. Hop Sing get mad at you?" asked Elizabeth incredulously, shaking her blonde braids over her shoulder.

Jim leaned closer to the children.  "I did it while he wasn't looking," he whispered.  "Don't tell him!"  Elizabeth giggled.

"What are those funny marks on your face?" John asked.  Paul frowned at his little brother from across the table, and John squirmed in his seat.

Jim smiled kindly.  "That's ok, son.  I was burned during a battle, and that left scars on my face."

"What's your name?" John inquired as he took a big bite of his second cookie.  This forward behavior toward an adult earned him another frown from his older brother.

"I mean," said the younger boy hastily, "my name is John."  He impatiently brushed his tousled curls from his eyes.

Jim smiled sadly at the lad, thinking of his own son Johnny's curls.  "It's nice to meet you, John.  My name is Mr. Donovan.  Colonel Donovan, actually.  You may call me either name you like."

"Colonel?" asked John, obviously puzzled.  "What's that mean?"

"Colonel!" exclaimed Paul at the same time.

"You're the soldier, I bet!" said Elizabeth.

"Have you seen Indians?"

"Did you fight them?  What are they like?"

"Did they burn your face?"

"Oh, boy!  I wish I could see Indians!"

"Where did Adam find you?"

"Whoa!  Whoa!" laughed Jim.  "One at a time, please!"  When they were quiet, he continued.   "First of all, I don't know your names."  He looked at the older two.

"I'm Paul, and this is Elizabeth."

"It's very nice to meet both of you.  How old are you?"

"I'm nine," said Paul.  "Elizabeth is seven, and John is five."

"Nine, seven, and five," the Colonel repeated.  "Hopefully, I won't mix you up.  Now, who told you about me?  Adam?"  He doubted very much that Adam had said anything to Mrs. Willis and the children about finding him.  Adam seemed a very reticent man, whom he believed would be reluctant to speak freely about something he did not yet comprehend.  He may have mentioned that there was another guest at the house, but Jim doubted that Adam would have said much more than that.

"No, it wasn't Adam," said John.  "It was Toby.  He said that yesterday when he was in town, he heard those gamblers at the saloon-"

"Toby's our hired hand," interrupted Paul.  "He's been with us for a long time.  He's staying with us now, and is looking after our place for us while we're here.  He's not leaving, even though our Papa's dead and we can't pay him much."

All the children looked down at their plates, and stopped eating.  Elizabeth bit her lip and fought against tears, and John wiped his eyes.

"Anyway," Paul continued, "he went into town, and heard that Mr. Adam found you, and you were dressed up in a soldier's uniform, but something was - different about it.  Sometimes, when Toby comes back from town, he tells a lot of tall tales.  You can't always believe every story he tells."  He glared at his younger brother.

"But everyone says you're a soldier," insisted Elizabeth.  "Are you?"

Jim sat down next to Paul and across from John.  "Yes, I am."

"Wow!" exclaimed Paul, obviously impressed.

"Where's your uniform?" asked John.

"I'm finished fighting right now, so I'm not wearing it."

"Did you say you're a Colonel?" asked Paul.

"That's right."

"What's a Colonel?" asked Elizabeth, trying the word out carefully on her tongue.

"That's an officer in the air- in the army.  It's my rank, which means my level.  There are other officers who are my superiors.  That means they're in charge of me.  And I'm in charge of other officers, as well as other men below them."

John looked at him closely.  "I bet you were in charge of a lot of people."

Jim met his gaze.  "Why do you say that, son?"

"Because you listen to people, and I bet they'd listen to you, too."

Jim fought mightily to keep tears from spilling down his cheeks.  "Well, there were plenty of people also in charge of me," he finally managed to say.

"Is it true that the Indians do awful things, like torturing people?" asked Elizabeth.  "Some people say that they like to hurt people really, really bad."

"Elizabeth," reproved Paul, "Mama says you're not supposed to eavesdrop when those people talk!"

"You listen, too!" argued his sister.  "We can't help it if we hear them.  They talk right in front of us like we're not even there."  She looked expectantly at Jim, waiting for an answer to her question.

"The Indians aren't the only bad guys," said the Colonel heavily.  "People on both sides do terrible things in any war.  Sometimes, one side does act worse than the other."  He thought of the concentration camps and briefly closed his eyes.   When images of the sisters and their children appeared in his mind, he quickly opened them.

"I wouldn't like to fight," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.  "I'd rather talk.  Will the Indians talk to people?"

"You can't talk to people when you're fighting them," said Paul almost contemptuously.

"It's a horrible business, to fight a war," the Colonel continued.  The children watched him, subdued at his somber tone.  "You find yourself killing  people you've never seen.  You're surprised at what you do; what you're trying to do.  People do - they get desperate."  He sighed deeply, realizing he could never explain to them so they could understand.

He looked at Elizabeth.  "To answer your question, young lady, yes, the Indians have tortured people.  But the whites have committed  terrible crimes against the Indians, too.  I bet you didn't know that."

Elizabeth shook her head.  "What did they do?" she asked tremulously.

"Such things are not for family discussion," said Jim, regretting he had upset her.  "Especially not on Christmas eve.  I bet you're expecting Santa to come!"

The two younger children brightened immediately, and began discussing what they wanted Santa to bring.  Paul rolled his eyes and looked aside.  When the Colonel caught his eye, he gave the older boy a conspiratorial wink, but he wondered why a boy of his age wouldn't believe in Santa.

They talked about last Christmas, which had been the last one with their father, and the presents they had received then.  When the Colonel asked them about family traditions, Elizabeth said,  "Our papa was really funny!  Every year, he would put coal in his stocking, and pretend to be mad at Santa Claus, because Santa said he was a bad boy.  He wanted us to believe Santa did it, but we knew he really did it."  She giggled.

"He always said he'd get Santa next year, and called him a mean old man, but we knew he was just playing," said John.  "It was funny!"

"Why aren't you going home for Christmas?" asked Paul.

Jim swallowed nervously.  "I - I can't right now.  It's too far away, and I was - hurt for a while.  So I'll be here for Christmas, and will go home - later."

"Where is your home?" asked Elizabeth.

The Colonel opened his mouth to say "South Dakota," and stopped himself just in time.  "Far to the northeast of here, in Dakota Territory."

"A lot of Indians live there, don't they?" asked Paul.  "I bet that's where you fought!  Why did you come here?"

Jim smiled.  "I'm not sure," he replied softly.  "I was ill when Mr. Adam found me.  There is a lot I don't remember."

"Do you live with your papa?" John's wide-open hazel eyes,  brown curls, and innocent stare disarmed the Colonel, and he was unable to restrain a couple of tears.

"No."  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.  "I live with my wife.  My papa lives very far away, in the East, and we don't see each other often."  He dabbed at his eyes again.

John nodded.  Still looking at him, the boy said, "You miss your papa.  I miss mine, too."  Sadly, he stared out the window into the darkening afternoon.  "My papa was killed by bad men."

"I heard," Jim said softly.  "I'm very sorry."  Again, he fought back tears.

"Do you and your wife have any children?" asked Elizabeth.

Jim started to answer, but the breath escaped from his mouth in a sob instead.  His voice was tight as he replied, "No."

"You don't?" asked the girl.

"We had a son, but he died about a year ago."

"Did he die right before Christmas, too?"  Paul asked.

Jim nodded.

"Did bad people kill him?" asked John.

Jim shook his head.  "No.  He died because - he was sick."  Again a tear escaped his vigilance.

"How old was he?" asked Elizabeth.

"Five, not quite six years old."  The Colonel looked at John.

"Then that was a sad Christmas for you," said Elizabeth.

"Yes.  Yes, it was very lonely.  See, I had been away at war for a long time, and hadn't seen my wife and son in years.  I wasn't there when he died."

John climbed down from his chair and walked around the table to the Colonel.  "I wasn't there when my papa died, either," he said simply.  He climbed into his friend's lap, and the Colonel drew him close.  Tears flowed down their faces as the fatherless child and the childless father drew comfort from one another.  Elizabeth and Peter drew close together.

Silence fell  as everyone witnessed the scene between the boy and the man.  Adam and Joe walked over to the table, and Joe put his hands on Elizabeth and Peter's shoulders.  "Hey, you two," he said.  "How would you like to help decorate the tree?  It's been waiting for all of you, once you're ready.  Like to get started?"

Hoss and Joe had finished putting on the tinsel, and had brought out the other decorations while the children had eaten .  Paul and Elizabeth hastened to examine and hang the many ornaments.  They marveled at the colored balls, miniature horses, sparkly gold and silver bells, toy drums, tin soldiers, and replicas of musical instruments.

"Where did you get these?" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Well, some of them our pa brought with him from the East, though he couldn't bring many knickknacks like that with him," said Joe.  "It's too long and hard a trip out here.  And some Adam sent from Boston, when he went to school there."

"Wow!"  The children's eyes shone.

Joe rescued a box from John as he came to join the fun.  "I'm afraid that's an ornament that needs special handling, John.  I need to put this one on the tree.  Would you like to see it?"  Without waiting for an answer, he leaned to the boy's ear and whispered, "I don't even let Adam or Hoss handle this one!"  John snickered, and the other children gathered about as Joe lifted the pretty thing from the soft cloths about it.

"Ohhh!" Elizabeth tried to touch it, but stopped at a word from her mother.

"What is it?" asked Paul.

"It's made from an eggshell, with the front and back sections cut out," explained Joe.  "Then, the outside was covered with red velvet, and the gold trim, and the horse was placed inside."

The children looked at the beautiful horse standing proudly inside the beautiful setting.  "How did you make it?" asked Elizabeth.  "I mean, how did you cut the eggshell, and keep it from breaking, and-"

"Elizabeth," warned her mother.  "Too many questions!"

Joe smiled.  "That's all right, Ma'am."  Looking back at Elizabeth, he said,  "I don't know how it was done, because I didn't make it.  My mother made it for me, many years ago, when I was a small child.  It was a Christmas present meant to be given to me when I was older, so I wouldn't break it.  But after she died, Pa gave it to me, and told me she had made it."  Joe carefully hung the precious memory of his mother high on the tree.

The Colonel sat and chatted with Ben and Mrs. Willis as the children finished decorating the tree with some help from Hoss, Joe, and Adam.  Then Adam brought his guitar from the study, and they sang some folk songs.  Ben and Jim danced with Joanna, and Joe danced with Elizabeth.

"Mr. Hoss, why don't you dance with me?" Elizabeth asked.

"Honey, if I danced with you, you wouldn't be able to ever walk again," said Hoss.  Elizabeth looked puzzled, and stared at Joe and Adam when they laughed.   Finally, Hop Sing called them for dinner.

The roast goose was succulent and so tender it nearly melted in their mouths as they ate it.  They had whipped potatoes, with mounds of butter and gravy, and stuffing.

"Mmmm, Mmmmm," exclaimed Hoss, when his mouth was finally partly empty.  "I don't know how Hop  Sing does it, but he always comes through!"  There were murmurs of agreement around the table as everyone had second and even third helpings.  Hop Sing cleared the table and brought out dessert:  baked apples with sweet syrup and cream.  He smiled broadly as he collected the well-scraped dishes, happy that everyone appreciated his efforts.

As they all relaxed with a cup of coffee or tea, John squirmed impatiently.  "Can we open presents now?"  All of the adults, even Hop Sing,  laughed, while John's siblings jumped all over him.

"You do this every year!"

"We have to wait for Santa!"

"He doesn't come until we're in bed!"

"All right, that's enough!" commanded Mrs. Willis.

"I know what," said Adam.  "Let's sing some Christmas carols!  We can take turns choosing what songs we'll sing.  John, how would you like to make first choice?"

John looked crestfallen, as though singing boring songs was a poor substitute for opening gifts.  But he agreed politely.

"How about I bring out popcorn?" suggested Hop Sing.  "You pop over fire, and string for tree!"  The children agreed enthusiastically, adding that they'd like to put some outside for the birds.

While Hoss and Jim helped the children pop and string the corn, Ben poured some brandy for himself and his sons.  Jim declined.  He had started drinking after the war, while working with the aftermath of the concentration camps, and had no desire to start again.

Adam began strumming his guitar while the children popped the corn.  Finally, during a lull in the conversation, while Joe was putting a string high up on the tree, Adam began humming "The First Noel."  Ben began singing, Joe joined in from his perch on the ladder, then Hoss, then Mrs. Willis chimed in with her alto.  Finally,  Jim added his voice, and everyone stared in astonishment at his clear, beautiful tenor voice.  Jim realized that he hadn't sung, or heard anyone singing, for months on end.  What had there been to celebrate, that he or anyone about him should sing?   Tears streamed down his face as the words and interwoven harmonies pierced his soul.  When  they finished that song, Adam began "Hark!  The Herald Angels Sing," and they sang one song after another.

After "O Come All Ye Faithful," John asked if they could take the extra strings of popcorn outside and hang them on a tree near the door.  His mother agreed, provided they didn't stay outside too long.  It was getting late, and was time for bed.  The moans and complaints that would ordinarily have accompanied this condition were silenced by the realization that it was Christmas Eve, and they had to go to bed soon, anyway, or Santa would not come.

Jim and the children bundled up and took the popcorn outside.  It was bitterly cold, and a light snow was falling.  As they placed the popcorn chains upon a couple of trees near the door, a wind arose which blew the clouds away and revealed a bright, starry sky.

"Would we be able to see Santa in his sleigh if we stayed up and watched?" asked Elizabeth.

"No," said Paul  "He doesn't want to be seen, so I doubt that many people ever see him on Christmas Eve."

"Your brother's right," said Jim softly.  "Children belong in bed, asleep, on Christmas Eve."

John looked at the multitude of stars in the heavens above him.  "I wonder where all those stars came from," he marveled.  He had never seen a sky so late at night before, as he always went to bed early.

"God made them," pronounced Elizabeth.

John was silent for a moment as he pondered the stars and his sister's words.  "Why did God let my papa die?" he wondered.

Silence met his question.

"Couldn't God have kept the bad men from shooting him?" John continued.  "His friends who were with him didn't die.  Why did he have to die?"

The Colonel put his hand on the child's head.  "I don't know, John," he replied.  "I don't have all the answers.  I only know that God doesn't stop people from doing evil. He could have stopped your papa's death, as he could have stopped lots of suffering.  But he didn't.  We don't always understand what happens, or why.  We can't understand, sometimes.  But we need to go on with our lives, and make the most of them, and do the best we can, despite what happens to us."

He paused as he looked at the barely visible moon sinking behind the trees.  "My grandmother used to say that God holds us all in the palm of his hand.  She said that the bad things that happened belonged to 'the trust of the unexplained.'"  He paused as he lifted the child in his arms.  "That means that no matter how bad your life may seem at times, God is in charge.  I guess we would all do well to remember that tonight, wouldn't we?"  They  gazed at the stars and listened to the profound silence, broken only by the wind which was dying down to a gentle breeze, before they reluctantly went back to the house.

As they stripped off their wraps, Mrs. Willis said, "It's time for children who expect Santa to come to go to bed!"

"Couldn't we have one more song?" asked Paul as he stifled a yawn.  He resented being called a child.

Adam picked up his guitar before Joanna could protest.  "One more," he pronounced.  In a soft, deep voice, Adam sang "Silent Night."  John sat in a chair to get his boots off.  He had pulled off one before Adam began singing.  Unable to remove the other one, he began taking off his coat instead.  He barely had one arm out of the sleeve before he realized how tired he was.  He gave a huge yawn, and leaned back in the chair.  He rubbed his eyes, yawned again, and fell sound asleep, with "sleep in heavenly peace" echoing quietly in his ears.

Jim pulled off the child's other boot, and removed all his wraps.  He picked him up and carried him to Adam's room.  As he laid him one of the cots that had been prepared for the children, Adam began "O Holy Night."  John stirred and sighed deeply.

"Can Papa hear that song?" John murmured.  "He'd like it."  He turned on his side and fell asleep again as Jim tucked him in.  As he left the room, Jim cracked the door so they could hear him if he awakened, frightened in the dark in a different house.

Finally, Mrs. Willis and the other two children went to bed.  The Cartwrights brought out all the presents they had been hiding and put them under the tree, including presents for the Willis family.   In the morning, the children would believe Santa had come.  Suddenly exhausted after the unusual activities of the past few days, they gladly went to bed.

Outside, the gentle, cold breeze stopped completely.  The bright multitude of stars shone over a silent, snow-bound world.  The moon had set, but the starlight  reflected off the snow.  The house was silent as everyone slept.  Low in the western sky, Andromeda shimmered, pulsed, and grew, moment by moment, imperceptibly brighter.

Light as bright as the Christmas star a century and a half before gradually waxed in the western sky.  Oblivious, the Cartwrights and their guests slept on.  A slight tremor shook the earth, and the Colonel awoke in the guest room.  He sat up in bed, and looked in alarm at the bright light flooding through the window.  Not daylight, but a brilliant, white light cascading through a nighttime sky.  He got out of bed and walked over the cold floor to his window.  The light grew too bright, and blinded him.  He closed his eyes.

The floor jerked beneath him, and he opened his eyes in alarm.  He wasn't looking out the window into the night from the Cartwright's guest room, but was staring at the inside of a small plane.  He looked out the window and saw a grey daytime sky, and houses and fields surrounded by fences below him.  When he glanced down at himself, thinking that he must still be in his night clothes, he saw he was in full dress uniform.

"Good afternoon, sir."

Colonel Donovan turned toward the voice.

"We're about 15 minutes from landing, sir.  We'll have the ceremony shortly after we land.  Are you ready, sir?"

Disoriented and perplexed, Colonel Donovan stared at the Captain.  He was obviously a captain, as he had two silver bars on his shoulder.  The Colonel finally recalled the name.  He was Captain Stanley, sent to escort the Colonel home.  Colonel Donovan stared at the man.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Uh - you said - we're about to land?"

"Yes, sir.  They've fixed up a landing strip in a field outside of Yankton, sir.  We'll land there, and drive you back to town for a short ceremony.  You - do know that you're expected to - say a few words, sir?"  The captain wasn't certain that it was a good idea to mention giving a speech at the moment.  The Colonel looked rather dazed and tired.

The Colonel nodded slowly.  "Yes.  Yes, I realize that."  He leaned his head back.  "I'll be ready, Captain.  Thank you."

Jim closed his eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening.  Had he really been to what would become the state of Nevada, two years before before it became Nevada Territory?  Had he truly met the Cartwright family?  Or had he dreamed the entire bizarre adventure while he slept on the plane?  He reached into a pocket for a handkerchief, and wiped his face.  He was anxious to get home, yet nervous.  He hadn't seen his wife in three years.  His son was dead.

As he wiped his face, he thought the handkerchief felt unusually coarse and thick.  He looked closely at it.  It was a little heavier and more densely woven than the cloth he was accustomed to, and he wondered where it came from.  He shook it open, and saw in the corner of it the initials "BC."  He clenched it tightly in his fist as he recalled Ben Cartwright using those handkerchiefs.  Ben had loaned him some while he was at the Cartwright home.  But how did this get in his dress uniform pocket?  Perhaps Hop Sing had put it there for his later use, after he had cleaned and brushed the uniform?

Jim clutched the handkerchief tightly as the plane began its descent.  He remembered the Willis children, bereft of their father at such a young age.  He didn't doubt that Ben and his sons would help them through whatever rough times lay ahead.  What a pity Ben Cartwright had not been in Nazi Germany, Jim thought.  A good man like Ben who reached out to his neighbors like the Willises and a stranger like himself might have been able to have influenced enough people to have stopped the madness that took so many lives.  Perhaps not.  Ben Cartwright appeared to belong right where and when he was, just as he, Colonel James Donovan, belonged in his own time.

The Colonel thought of the sisters who had come to him in Munich, trying to find their children.  For the first time since he had seen them, he was able to think of the situation without hopelessness and tears.  It was part of his past, a tragic part, but the past nonetheless.  He recalled his son - his brown curls, green eyes, his smile, and the sweet contentment which infected everyone about him.  A tear slid down his cheek, which he sternly wiped away with the handkerchief.

"Captain?"

"Sir?"

"What is the date today?"

"The date, sir?  It's December 22, sir."

"1945."  Perhaps a statement, rather than a question, would be better received.

A pause.  "Yes, sir."

The Colonel sighed in relief.

He had no idea what he was going to say in these "few words" that he was expected to say, but he did not doubt that the words would come to him.  He did know that whatever monsters he might encounter, either in his life ahead of him or from his past, he could now meet head on without fear.  With the loss of his son, and the events he had been forced to face in Europe, pain would always be a part of his life.  However, the grief in the present had met the pain of the past, and each was able to bring comfort to the other.  Realizing he would finally get to see his wife, he released a deep sigh of contentment, and folded his hands, serenely awaiting whatever the future might bring.
 

John awoke before dawn.  For what seemed a long time, he tried to lay still.  He heard his mother say, "John, lie still.  It's not even light outside yet."

"Is it Christmas?" John whispered.

"Not yet," said his mother firmly.

"But it was Christmas Eve when I went to bed," insisted John.  "That means it must be Christmas now."

"Not when you only sleep for a few minutes," Paul grumbled from the cot next to him.

"It must be Christmas!" Elizabeth was awake now.

Their mother sighed.  "Yes, it is Christmas," she conceded.  "But we mustn't wake the Cartwrights up so early."

Elizabeth and John were already out of bed and down the hall before she finished.  "We'll be quiet, we promise, Mama!" called John as he ran down the stairs after his sister.  He bumped into Elizabeth at the bottom of the stairs.

"Where's the tree?" she whispered.

"I don't know; it's too dark," he replied.  "Can you light a lamp?"

"Silly!  I don't even know where a lamp is!"

They both started as a door opened near them and a deep voice said, "Wait a minute."  Light flickered from the study nearby, and Adam emerged with a lamp, his blue robe thrown hastily on.  His hair was tousled, his face stubbly, and sleep was still in his eyes.  "Is this what you're looking for?"

The children saw the tree decorations sparkling in the light.  They ran to the tree, and whooped and hollered as they saw the pile of presents beneath it.  "Bring the light closer, Mr. Adam!" John called happily.  "Then we can see what presents are ours!"

"John and Elizabeth!"  The children looked up to see their mother standing on the stairs.  "Look at the clock!"  They obediently looked at the clock.  "What time is it, Elizabeth?"

"It's - it's almost four o'clock, Mama," Elizabeth replied in a small voice.

"Does that mean it's time to open presents?" asked John.

Adam laughed, and they heard Ben's booming laugh resound from upstairs.  "Yes, I guess that means it's time to open presents," said Ben.  "That is, IF you give us a chance to get up and ready first!"

Joanna shooed John and Elizabeth back to the room to dress, and insisted they wait until the Cartwrights were ready to go back downstairs.  Adam lit the fire, and Hop Sing, ever attentive to his family's needs, came in with a pot of coffee, chuckling at the antics of the children as they came down the steps.

"Where's the Colonel?" asked Hoss.  "Don't tell me he's sleeping through all this ruckus!"

"I guess we'd better wake him up," said Ben.  "He needs to be here while we open gifts, and I don't think it would be a good idea to wait much longer!"

Adam knocked on the guest room door.  When there was no answer, he opened it and looked inside.  "Jim?"  He took a lamp from the table near the tree, and went in the room.  When he came back out, he said, "Pa!  He's not in here!  His bed's been slept in, but he's gone!"

"Well, he must be in there!  Where else could he be?  Has anyone seen him this morning?"  They all looked at one another.  No one had seen him.

They searched every room in the house, upstairs and downstairs.  Hop Sing searched the kitchen with Joe.  Finally, the men put on their boots and coats, and went outside to search.  One look was all it took to see that no snow had fallen last night, as Jim's and the children's footprints were there from the night before when they had put the popcorn chains on the trees.  No one had been in the yard since last night, as there were no other tracks leading to the stable or anywhere else.  They searched all around the house, by each door and window.  There were no new tracks.  Adam went to the stable to see if any horses were missing, but every horse and all the equipment was accounted for.

"Mr. Cartwright!  Mr. Cartwright!" Hop Sing called as they looked again throughout the house.

Ben came running.  "What is it, Hop Sing?"

"Colonel Donovan's uniform is gone!  I clean and brush and press it, and I hang it by laundry room door to take to his room once tree is up.  But then, children are decorating, and everyone busy, and Hop Sing forget.  I leave it, and now it gone!"  He led them to his laundry area, and showed them where the missing uniform had hung.

"Maybe it's in his room," said Joe.

Adam frowned.  "I didn't see it."  He went back to have another look.

"I'll look upstairs and in the study," said Hoss.

Hoss came downstairs as everyone was again gathering around the Christmas tree.  "I didn't find it," he said.  "Where's Adam?"

Adam walked slowly from the guest room.  "I didn't find the uniform," he said, "but I did find this."  He held out to his father the identification papers he had found in the Colonel's pocket when they had first brought him to the house three days earlier.  Ben looked at them, and handed them to Mrs. Willis.

"Colonel James Daniel Donovan, United States Air Force," she read.  "Yankton, South Dakota?  Ben, what does this mean?"

"Son," said Ben to Adam, "did you find the wallet that these were in?"

"No, Pa.  I looked everywhere, under the bed and dresser, too, and this is all I found."

"I put wallet back in pocket after I clean uniform," said Hop Sing
indignantly. "It in laundry room until then.  I not take anything out of it!"

"We know you didn't, Hop Sing.  "We know that.  This must have fallen out shortly after we found it."

"I put handkerchief in pocket for him," Hop Sing said.  "He have no handkerchiefs, so I put one of yours in, Mr. Cartwright."

"But Ben!" exclaimed Joanna.  "United States Air Force!  South Dakota!  What does it mean?  Was Toby right?  Was there something - wrong about that man?  He seemed so nice!  From what Toby said, it sounded as though the sheriff might be by here looking for him soon!  I didn't pay it any mind; he always goes on so, but-"

"I don't think the sheriff will find him, Ma'am," said Joe.

"No," agreed Hoss.  "I don't think so, either."

"We couldn't find him," said Adam.  "There are no footprints, or hoof prints, and no horse missing.  He's nowhere to be found, I'm afraid."

"But he must be around somewhere!" exclaimed Joanna.  "How far could he go, in this cold?  And-"

"Do you think he went home?" asked John.

"I think he must have," said Elizabeth.

John looked wistfully at the piece of paper in his mother's hand, which Ben now took back.  "I was hoping he'd come home with us.  He fought bad people, too, just like Papa.  I thought he might stay here."

"He doesn't belong here, with us," said Paul.  "His home and family are someplace else."

"But he didn't say 'goodbye,'" said John.

Joe stooped down in front of the younger boy.  "I guess he just came for a visit, John.  He probably had to leave real suddenly, just like he came, most likely."  Joe glanced at Adam.

"He stayed long enough to show us what was important."  Adam looked out the window as the early morning light began to filter through the darkness.  He could see the barn, which reminded him of the chores, but he knew this was one morning when the chores would have to wait.

Ben Cartwright looked thoughtfully at his sons.  "I think that soldier finally found his way home," he said.  Adam met his gaze, and smiled.

"Yes, sir,"  said Hoss.  "I'd say you're right about that, Pa.  I'd say Colonel Donovan is home at last."