The sound of the morning birds penetrated his sleepy thoughts, and Ben Cartwright rolled over in bed and stretched. The realization that a shaft of sunlight was splashed across his coverlet startled him. He sat up abruptly and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. It’s ornate hands indicated that it was well past sun-up, his usual rising time.

"Hop Sing!" Ben bellowed. His shout brought no response, so he tried again. "Hop Sing!"

A flurry of soft footsteps sounded outside his door, and there was a muffled thump. Ben watched as the door knob turned slowly and the door swung inward. The Cartwright’s diminutive housekeeper backed into the room bearing a silver tray.
"What’s all this, Hop Sing? Why did you let me sleep so late?" Ben asked, as he swung his legs over the side of bed. "It’s past eight, and I have a full schedule today."

"It Mr. Cartlight’s birthday today," Hop Sing replied grinning. "Bring breakfast in bed. Sons say take it easy on special day." He moved forward, holding the tray toward his boss.

Ben relaxed against the pillows, a foolish grin on his face. "My birthday, eh. I’d forgotten all about that. With the boys away, I figured no one would know, and I put it right out of my mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have let the day go by, old friend."  He eagerly accepted the tray and took an appreciative sniff of his meal.

Hop Sing beamed when he saw his employer diving into the special breakfast that had been prepared for him, and he left the room silently. He had a few more surprises up his sleeve, and he needed some peace and quiet to accomplish them.

Adam was in San Francisco negotiating contracts with the railroad, Hoss was driving a herd of cattle to Sacramento, and Joe was in Yuma to pick up a new horse for his breeding operation. The boys were all set to leave on their assigned jobs when they realized that their father’s birthday would arrive while they weren’t home.  A hasty conference with Hop Sing, and some quick scheming had resulted in the breakfast appearing at Ben’s bedside that morning.  Hop Sing’s inscrutable face wouldn’t reveal what else the boys had planned, but his secret delight in the proceedings had put him in a high good humor.

Ben luxuriated in his bed, sipping at the cooling coffee in his cup. He felt pleasantly sated by his unexpected breakfast in bed, and a mellow contentment kept him relaxing against the pillows for a few more minutes. No real urgency to go downstairs, he reasoned. The boys weren’t home, and Hop Sing had already marked the day. At last duty called, and he reluctantly swung his legs over the side of the bed and went through the motions of getting ready to face the day.
The house looked serene as he walked down the stairs. In fact, without the boys in the house, it was too quiet. Thoughts of his sons were foremost in his mind, and he once again berated himself for his foolishness. He had almost kept Joe home with some feeble excuse, just so he wouldn't be alone on his birthday. It had taken all of his steely will to send them on their way without letting on how he felt. He shook his head angrily.

Chiding himself for wallowing in melancholy, he headed for his desk, mentally gearing up for a tussle with the books. He was halfway across the great room when an amber gleam caught his eye. Perched coyly on his desk was a bottle of brandy gaily tied with a ribbon, an envelope that gleamed white against the grain of the desk, and three wrapped presents. An eager smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he quickened his steps.

With impatient fingers, he ripped open the envelope, his grin widening as he recognized the distinctive signatures of each of his sons. They were all there, from Hoss’s meticulous script, which hinted at how hard he labored over it, to Joe’s backwards slant. Adam’s distinguished writing penned the inscription,
 

Dear Pa,

We wish we could be with you on this auspicious day! We will be with you in spirit. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, but have a drink on us.

Love,
Adam, Hoss and Joe

Ben wiped away a suspicious trace of moisture that tried to leave the corner of his eye. I must be turning into a sentimental old fool, he thought. But then his smile widened. The boys knew how he’d feel today, and they’d made sure he wouldn’t be alone after all.

He turned to look at the bottle of brandy. That was Adam’s suggestion he was sure. He fingered the label of the finely aged cognac, and grinned again. Hoss’s taste ran toward beer, and Joe would swallow anything put in front of him as long as it was alcohol. Feeling like a schoolboy, the silver head turned toward the presents.

With eager fingers, he reached for the largest box. Without surprise, he viewed Hoss’s name on the tag. Hoss never did things by half. Pulling off the wrappings he peered into the box. His keen gaze softened, and he lovingly fingered the smooth wood of a hand-carved replica of Buck. Hoss had spent a lot of time in the past months searching the surrounding woods for just the right piece of wood.  He’d never said what he wanted it for, and Ben hadn’t even realized that he’d found it.

Somewhere along the line, Hoss had stopped searching, and quietly started carving. The finished product was beautiful. Hoss had taken the time to catch the horse in mid-stride, and Ben almost felt as if he could ride the little horse, it was so lifelike. He caressed the satiny smooth piece, marveling at the time and attention it had taken to produce the work.

A vivid of image of Hoss’s broad face and gap-toothed grin flashed through his mind. He almost felt the big man’s presence. It was as if his middle son had entered the room while Ben wasn’t looking and was standing at his father’s back. Ben turned abruptly, and then smiled sheepishly. Of course, Hoss wasn’t standing behind him. But just for that moment . . .

He shook his head abruptly and reached for the box from Adam. Pushing aside the paper, he gasped. Almost holding his breath, he drew out a small miniature. Instead of the usual picture of a woman, something one would expect in a painting of this type, Ben beheld a sailing vessel. It was a ship he knew well. In fact, he knew every line, curve and nuance of her. It was the ship he’d sailed on under the command of Adam’s grandfather. Adam must have been planning this for months. He would have had to send to Boston to ask his Grandpa Stoddard to commission the miniature, and then have it sent in time for Ben’s birthday. Ben lost himself in memories, and it was as if he sailed the seas again. His eyes devoured the ship he loved, and his heart constricted painfully at the thought of the woman who had waited patiently for the first mate to return from the sea.

A whisper of air brushed the bent cheek, and Ben straightened abruptly. "Adam?" he called out, and then flushed in embarrassment. Adam was in San Francisco where his father had sent him. How silly to think a breath of air was his son.

To distract himself, he gasped Joe’s package in his hand. He had to smile before he opened it. Even Joe’s scrawled signature had a cheeky quality that declared his presence. Ben tore off the wrappings in anticipation, knowing that Joe prided himself on gifts of a quirky nature. He frowned, puzzled by what greeted him when he took the lid from the box. A deck of cards, crisp and new, and a wooden box. He opened the box to find a beautiful set of ivory poker chips. They were elegant, and obviously something that Joe had thought long and hard about. But Ben was puzzled. They seemed so . . . impersonal.

The mocking call of a bird sounded loud on the porch and Ben jumped. Joe? He could hear the echo of Joe’s giddy chuckle in his ears.

With a smile, he gathered up his gifts. They were beautiful and he would treasure each one always, if only for the simple reason that they had been given with love.

He started on the day’s chores with a light heart and a spring in his step. Every time he encountered a problem, or struggled with situation that was frustrating, he thought of the gifts that sat on his desk. His mood would lighten instantly, and smile would streak across his face, much to the bemusement of the hands who were working the cattle under his direction.

At last, the day’s work was done, and he sat relaxing in front of a cheery blaze with a glass of cognac in his hands. Each sip broadened the cloud of contentment that enveloped him. Hop Sing had outdone himself with the meal, even though he was cooking for one. Ben was becoming quiet, and reflecting that life didn’t get much better than this, when a knock on the door startled him.

He heaved himself to his feet and strolled to the door, casually wondering who it could be at this hour. He swung the portal wide when he saw Roy Coffee’s beaming face staring back at him.

"Roy! What brings you out this way?" he asked, startled by the unexpected appearance of the sheriff. "Is everything all right in town?"

"Couldn’t be better, Ben. Many happy returns of the day!" The sheriff pushed past the oldest Cartwright, who stood with his hand on the door and confusion on his face. "Joe said you’d be needin’ some comp’ny tonight, so I thought I’d stroll out here and challenge you to a game of poker."

The lawman seated himself before the fire and nodded at the bottle of brandy. "Could I trouble you for a drink, Ben? I recollect Adam sent all the way to San Francisco for that awhile back, and I’ve been hankering for a sip ever since."

Ben recovered himself enough to close the door and cross the room to Roy’s side. "Of course, help yourself, Roy. It’s mighty tasty. So Adam sent to San Francisco for this, hmm. I should have known." He poured a generous measure into a glass for the sheriff. "But if you’re looking for a game, we don’t have enough people. It takes more than two for poker."

Roy smiled knowingly. "I don’ think that’ll be a problem. Joe was a mite worried about you out here on your own for your birthday. I think there’ll be more’n enough for poker."

A rap at the door made Roy’s smile widen, and Ben’s eyes gleam. "I guess I understand Joe’s gift a little better now. Wait till I get my hands on that scamp." He hastened to answer the door, courteously ushering Paul Martin into the room.

Before he could shut the door, several more men arrived in the yard. It looked like Joe had sought out every one of Ben’s special friends. The impromptu party spilled over to the table where plates of food were magically appearing from the kitchen. Ben caught the eye of the Chinese housekeeper and let a mock frown cross his face. "Hop Sing, what’s the meaning of all this?" he bellowed playfully.

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Cartlight," Hop Sing tossed over his shoulder as he scurried toward the kitchen.

Ben didn’t miss the cheerful sparkle in the cook’s black eyes, and he was sure he’d seen the little man wink. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, before he was caught by the arm and drawn back into the crowd. He couldn’t wait for his sons to get home.

The three Cartwright sons had met in Virginia City by prearrangement and ridden home together. After a joyful reunion over Hop Sin’s feast, they were settled in the great room catching up on life at the Ponderosa while they were gone. Foremost on their minds was their father’s birthday. None had been happy to miss the big event.

"Yeah, Pa. What’d ya do?" Hoss chimed in. "Did ya have a good time?"

Ben smiled at the men grouped around his chair, letting his eyes linger on each of them. "It was a wonderful birthday, boys. I spent it with some of my favorite people. But the best part of the day, I spent with you."

Adam looked at his father curiously. "What do you mean, Pa? I know I wasn’t here, and I’m sure Joe and Hoss weren’t either."

Ben’s smile widened. "I felt you standing behind my chair when I opened your wonderful gift, Hoss." He held up the little carving. "I’ll treasure it always, and I’ll think of you each time I look at it."

Hoss blushed a little and ducked his head. "Aw, shucks, Pa. It weren’t nothin’ but a little piece of wood." His face grew still, and his eyes took on a far away look. "Funny thing is, I had a dream about you opening that gift. It was almost like I was standing right next to ya, watching ya take it out of the box."

Ben nodded. "You were here, Hoss. And so was Adam. I felt him touch my cheek when I looked at this beautiful picture." He pointed proudly to the miniature which was prominently displayed on a side table.

Adam looked gravely at his father. "I thought of you that morning. I knew you’d open the gifts first thing. I felt so badly that we weren’t here, and if I could have willed myself through space and time I would have." A look of consideration crossed his face. "I dreamed about you too, Pa."

Joe was sitting up straight, and his face had taken on an awestruck look that made his father laugh and broke the tension. "What about me, Pa? Did you feel me?"

Ben smiled. Joe could be such a little boy sometimes. "I opened up the cards and the poker chips, which are beautiful, by the way. And I’ll admit, I was a little puzzled. It wasn’t until that night that I knew why you’d gotten them for me, Joe. But I heard you laughing at me, and I knew you were with me too."

Joe grinned. "In my dream, you were looking at my present, and you looked so confused, I woke up laughing."

Ben looked around the room again, his humor fading into a gentle smile. "So you see, I wasn’t alone at all on my birthday. Even if Joe hadn’t arranged that wonderful party, I’d have had lots of company. I knew you wouldn’t miss my birthday."

The Cartwrights lifted their glasses in a toast, the flickering flames capturing a sparkle in each glass. "Welcome home," Ben whispered.