The blizzard had begun to rage around noon and now, in the half-light of the late December afternoon it seemed, if anything, even stronger. A fierce, icy wind blew the snow before it, obliterating almost everything from sight. Peering through the window of the little, wooden shack Joe Cartwright couldn’t even make out the edge of the porch he had walked across earlier and he turned back into the room with a heavy sigh.

“Looks like I’m going to be stuck here for the night.” He muttered to himself as he surveyed the interior of the building. “Fine place to spend a Christmas Eve.”

Everything had seemed to be going so well this morning when he had set out on his journey back to the Ponderosa. He knew he was leaving it late, that he should have left the day before but he had been enjoying his visit with his father’s old friends Paul and Sarah Roberts, especially the company of pretty Meg Roberts, the couple’s nineteen year old daughter. This morning the weather had been fine and bright, just a light covering of snow on the ground. Joe was looking forward to getting home and sharing the Christmas festivities with his father and brothers and with Meg’s farewell kiss still warm on his cheek he had departed for the Ponderosa in good spirit. By mid-morning the sky above him was white with cloud and a chill breeze had sprung up that seemed to penetrate every opening in Joe’s clothing, finding it’s way through the fastenings on his jacket and creeping down his collar. Shivering, he debated turning back, well aware that the clouds presaged snow and that riding could become hazardous. The thought of his father’s disappointment if he wasn’t home for Christmas decided him against it and he pressed on towards the Ponderosa.

A couple of hours later he knew he’d made the wrong decision, the snow which had fallen lightly at first, drifting in the breeze, now swirled and eddied around him, starting to accumulate under Cochise’s hooves. It was getting hard to make out the trail; everywhere he looked turning into a desert of white.

“We're going to have to find some shelter, Cooch.” He addressed his horse, rubbing the animal’s neck. “Wait this storm out.” The pinto tossed his head as if in agreement and snorted as the snowflakes settled on his velvet nostrils.

Joe considered what to do, there were no homesteads around where he might seek refuge, no caves to take cover in. There was just one possibility, a deserted shack that had once belonged to an old prospector. The man had been dead now for at least five years and his home was little more than a dilapidated ruin but it did still have a roof and walls, even if there were a few holes in them. At least it would offer some protection until the snow stopped.
 

Looking around the shack now, Joe felt a growing sense of depression. The wooden structure had been a sturdy enough little dwelling in its day but five years of neglect had left it rickety and unsteady, the wind finding myriad holes to thread it’s wintry fingers through and even though Joe had managed to light the stove there was ice forming on the single window that remained intact. The rest of the windows had been boarded over and a pile of kindling sat beside the stove, which suggested to Joe that he wasn’t the first traveller to seek shelter here. He had almost ridden past the place so dense was the snowstorm whirling around him but luck had been on his side, a slight lull in the storm letting him catch sight of the building nestled deep in a snowdrift. There was a small stable attached to the shack with just enough room for a couple of horses. Finding it dry and reasonably sound Joe had led Cochise inside and rubbed the horse down as best as he could with his saddle blanket before taking his saddlebags and heading in to the house.

Pulling the collar of his heavy blue winter coat tighter around his neck, Joe huddled over the stove. His thoughts drifted to home, wondering what his family were doing now and hoping that his father was not too worried about him. He closed his eyes, picturing the huge fire burning brightly on the hearth of the Ponderosa ranch house, the table laid ready for supper and the Christmas tree softly aglow with candlelight. His imagination painted such a vivid scene that he was reluctant to face the cold, empty room again and it was with a heavy heart that he eventually opened his eyes. Daylight was fading fast now as night approached and the room was dim and dreary. Wondering if perhaps the person who had boarded the windows and chopped kindling had left anything else in the place, Joe left the warmth of the stove and walked over to examine the lone piece of furniture in the room, an old dresser. Running his fingers over the wood Joe saw all the scars of a long, useful life, marks left by hot cups that had been placed on it, grooves where something had been cut. Pulling open both drawers he was disappointed, but unsurprised to find them empty. Turning his attention to the cupboards below he reached out and opened the doors. To his delight he found that a couple of blankets had been stored inside. Taking them out, he wrinkled his nose at their musty smell but at least they were dry and would help him stay warm. Wrapping them around his shoulders he bent to close the door and noticed something right at the back of the cupboard. Drawing it out he found himself holding an ancient looking lamp made of gold coloured metal, which gleamed dully as turned towards the window to examine it.

An old oil lamp. He decided, though not like any he’d seen before. Like a picture in one of those old Bible story books Pa used to read me. He thought, returning to the heat of the stove and idly rubbing the lamp with the frayed edge of one of the blankets. Putting the lamp down, he rummaged in his saddlebags for a piece of beef jerky which he chewed on for a while, listening to the sound of the wind howling round the cabin and hoping it would let up by morning so that at least he’d get home for Christmas Day. Eventually, he settled himself down on the hard wooden floor, pulled the blankets tightly around him and closed his eyes.

“Let’s get it over with then.” Joe’s eyes shot open at the words from behind him, hand going instinctively for his gun. Rolling over he stared in utter astonishment at the owner of the voice then breathed a long sigh of relief. Of course, it’s just a dream. He thought, slipping his gun back into his holster. For the swarthy little person facing Joe could be nothing else. Standing there, arms folded, he was dressed in the strangest outfit Joe had ever seen. A black satin sash around the man’s waist set off voluminous pants made of some kind of red silky material. A waistcoat embroidered with small jewels that glittered in the dim light from the stove was open to reveal a muscular chest and to top it all the man’s long dark hair was gathered into a knot on the top of his head held in place by what looked like a red ribbon. But it wasn’t just the outlandish garb that decided Joe that the visitor was no more than a dweller in his dreams, it was the fact that the man’s pointed toed, gold satin slippers, rested not on the floor but several inches above it.

“Well?” The man spoke again, looking impatiently at Joe from coal black eyes glittering beneath heavy, dark eyebrows. “Tell me your wishes.”

“Wishes?” Joe asked, baffled. “What wishes?”

“Your three wishes of course.” The man said. He sighed deeply when Joe continued to look perplexed. “You rubbed the lamp.” He explained slowly as though speaking to a particularly dim-witted child. “So here I am ready to grant your wishes.”

“The lamp?” Joe looked round at the old oil lamp sitting beside him on the floor. “That one?”

“Of course that one.” The man heaved another heavy sigh and placed his hands on his chest. “I’m the genie of the lamp. You summoned me forth by rubbing it.”

“Genie?”

“Genie, Djinn, spirit…call me what you like but hurry it up. It’s cold in this place and I’d very much like to get back inside my lamp. Like I said, you’ve got three wishes. One proviso, I can’t bring anyone back from the dead. Except for that ask for whatever you want.”

“Anything?” Joe asked with a sudden, devilish grin. This dream wasn’t turning out too badly. There were a lot of things he’d like to ask for. He just hoped he wouldn’t wake up before the wishes were granted.

“That’s what I said.” The genie answered, a touch of contempt in his voice, his upper lip curling derisively. “Not that you need to tell me really. No doubt you’re just like all the others. It’ll be untold wealth, fabulous treasures and beautiful girls, that’s all anyone ever wants. Though looking at this place.” He added, casting a disparaging eye over the empty shack. “You could do with a few luxuries. What a miserable place to live.”

“I don’t live here.” Joe protested, wondering why he was bothering to explain things to this figment of his imagination. “I’m just sheltering from the storm. I live with my family over by Virginia City.”

“Whatever.” The genie tapped one foot impatiently, or it would have tapped if he’d been standing on the floor. As it was the golden slipper just moved up and down a few times. “Just make the wishes.”

By now Joe was feeling a little guilty. The genie had been quite correct in his assumption, money, girls and treasures had figured prominently in his thoughts, but the mention of his family made Joe suddenly feel very alone, remembering that this was Christmas Eve.

“I guess I don’t really need any money.” He said softly. “My family is pretty wealthy anyway and I sure don’t need anyone’s help to spark a beautiful girl.” He smiled as he recalled pretty Meg’s farewell to him this morning.

The genie looked at him in surprise. “Then what do you want?” He asked, interest aroused by the young man’s rejection of the standard wishes.

Joe thought of his family at home, the gifts that he knew would be waiting for him tomorrow, the welcome that awaited him when he finally made it to the Ponderosa. “I think I’d like to use my wishes for my father and brother’s.” He said at last.

“That’s a new one.” The genie raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “But there’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t, so carry on.”

Joe pictured his family in his mind as he decided what he would wish for each of them, something that he knew would make them happy this Christmas. “First there’s Hoss.” He said, thinking of his brother’s open, honest face, his guileless blue eyes. “He’s been spending a lot of time lately looking after one of the mare’s. She’s due to foal any day and he’s worried about her, feels something’s not right. I just know that if she had her foal safely it would make him really happy so I wish that for him.”

“A horse.” The genie snorted. “You want me to make sure a horse is all right?”

“You did say whatever I wanted.”

Putting a hand to his forehead as though in despair the genie nodded. “It’s done.” He said. “What’s the next one?”

“That’s for my brother Adam.” Joe told him. “You see, Adam sometimes misses the life back east. He doesn’t get too many folk round here that understand the things he likes. Stuff like Shakespeare and music and poetry. He’d really like it if he could meet someone that he could talk to about all that. I wish he would.”

“An educated friend for your brother.” The genie said with an anguished look. “Well, this is certainly different.”

“Then there’s my Pa.” Joe’s tone softened as he spoke of his father. “He’s been worried about something for a while now. I don’t know what it is, he says nothing’s wrong but I can tell that there is.” His eyes clouded slightly as he recalled the anxiety he’d seen on his father’s face the past few weeks. “I just wish that he could have a Christmas free from all worry and stress.”

“All done.” The genie said, floating over to position himself above his lamp. “At least it was unusual. Personally, I think you’re a fool passing up the girls and the money but it made a change.” With an imperious wave of his hand the little genie suddenly became no more than a coiling drift of smoke, which spiralled down and disappeared inside the lamp.

If it weren’t just a dream I’d probably have taken the money. Was Joe’s last thought as he sank back into a deep sleep, untroubled by any further visions.

It was the bone aching cold that woke Joe in the morning. At some point in the night the stove had gone out and the little cabin had taken on an arctic chill. Shivering, Joe stumbled to his feet and looked anxiously out of the window where the grey light of dawn was just giving way to a bright morning. In the glimmerings of a wintry sunshine the snow lay serene and untouched, the storm had blown itself out and Joe could be on his way.

Folding the blankets, he stamped his feet a little and rubbed his hands together, attempting to get some warmth back into his body. He returned the blankets to the cupboard and was about to take his saddlebags and leave when he caught sight of the old oil lamp and recalled his strange dream. Picking up the lamp he examined it carefully before taking it over to the cupboard. ‘Some dream that was. ’ He muttered to himself, his breath forming a misty vapour in the cold air. ‘Better not have beef jerky for supper again.’

Putting the lamp back where he’d found it he headed out to saddle up Cochise relieved to find that the snow was not as deep as he’d feared and that he should be able to get back to the Ponderosa in time for his Christmas lunch.

The trail was even easier than he’d thought, by the time he’d travelled a mile or so from the cabin the covering of snow was no more than an inch or so thick and Cochise picked his way easily through it. Joe rode into the ranch house at just before noon, looking forward to seeing his family and joining in the festivities.

“Hey, Joe.” Hoss hailed him excitedly from the doorway of the barn as he dismounted from Cochise. “Come see this.”

“See what?” Joe asked, taking his horse’s reins and leading him over to Hoss.

“Old Primrose done had her babies.” His brother announced proudly leading the way into the barn where the mare stood suckling two tiny foals, both wavering slightly, unsteady on their spindly legs.

“Two!” Joe said in astonishment, looking at Hoss whose face wore a huge, proud grin as he watched the animals.

“Yep, twins.” Hoss told him with satisfaction. “One of each, a colt and a filly.”

“That sure is something.” Joe watched the mother and her young for a while before leading Cochise over to his stall and beginning to rub him down. “Lunch nearly ready?” He asked as he fetched oats for Cochise. His stomach rumbled slightly as he thought of the enormous Christmas meal that Hop Sing would no doubt be providing.

“It’s just cold meat and bread.” Hoss told him, not taking his gaze from the mare and foals. “Hop Sing’s too busy to do much.”

“Too busy?” Joe asked, with an anxious glance at his brother. “Why? Has something happened?”

“What would have happened?” Hoss answered absently. “Less you count that friend of Adam’s who showed up on yesterdays stage.”

“A friend of Adam’s?” Joe felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. First the foals, now this… “What friend?”

“Oh, some fella from back east. Seems like they did nothing all last evening but talk about books and suchlike. Course Hop Sing’s complaining about one extra for Christmas lunch tomorrow but he don’t really mind.”

“Christmas lunch tomorrow.” Joe repeated, his thoughts in turmoil. It had to have been a dream he had last night, didn’t it? “Hoss?” He asked his brother quietly, waiting with some trepidation for the answer. “What day is it?”

“What day?” Hoss turned to stare at him in concern. “You know as well as I do that today’s Christmas Eve.”

“Then it’s not Christmas Day yet?”

“Of course it’s not. You feelin’ all right Little Joe?”

“I’m feeling just fine.” Joe assured him with a smile. “Where’s Pa?”

“In the house.” Hoss said, still regarding the young man anxiously. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Positive.” Joe told him as he headed out of the barn, convinced now that the genie had been real and wondering if all of his wishes had been granted.

Ben was sitting at his desk working when Joe entered the house. He looked up with a smile as his youngest son approached. “Welcome home, Joseph. I knew you’d make it back in time for Christmas.”

I almost didn’t. Joe thought as he shook his father’s hand and clapped him lightly on the arm. “Everything all right, Pa?” He asked, perching himself on the edge of Ben’s desk and looking searchingly at the older man.

“Everything is perfect, thank you.” Ben said, and Joe saw that the strained look his father had worn for the past few weeks was gone. Ben looked happy and relaxed as he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “How are the Roberts?” He asked.

“They’re all well.” Joe told him. “They asked after you, of course. I told them you were well. You are aren’t you, Pa? Before I left you seemed awful worried about something.”

“I have been a little concerned.” Ben admitted. “The Ponderosa has been having a few business problems. Adam knew about it of course but I didn’t want to worry you or Hoss with it. At least not till after Christmas. But then this morning I had a visit from my lawyer and everything’s all cleared up.”

So the genie granted all three wishes. Joe thought to himself as he went up to his room to clean up before lunch. But that doesn’t explain why it’s still Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day.

Joe was still puzzling over that when the family sat down together that evening. Adam had brought his guitar downstairs and was getting ready to play a few of the old Christmas songs that his father liked to hear at this time of year. Hoss was sitting on the couch, talking to Adam’s old college friend and Ben was relaxing in the leather armchair by the fire, a glass of brandy in his hand. Looking around at his family, Joe was very grateful that he was here to share this special evening with them. Yesterday, in that cold, dismal shack he had been imagining this and hoping that his father wasn’t too worried about him. Enlightenment dawned as he recalled the exact words of the third wish that the genie had granted, the wish for his father. I just wish that he could have a Christmas free from all worry and stress. So that was why the genie had taken him back a day, for his father would have been worried if he hadn’t been here for Christmas.

With a contented sigh, Joe settled back and prepared to enjoy his Christmas, adding his voice to the rest of his family’s as Adam picked out the lilting strains of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ on his guitar. Though a fleeting thought did just cross his mind that he might go and take another look at that lamp after Christmas.

Reclining on the satin couch, just about to pop another morsel of Turkish Delight into his mouth the genie was irritated to feel his home being lifted up again. A scraping against the outside of the lamp let him know that he’d been summoned and with a moue of disgust he transformed himself into smoke and made his way outside. This time the person holding the lamp was a rough looking mountain man, heavily bearded and wearing torn and faded clothes. Scared at first, the man soon overcame his apprehension and giving an irritated sigh the genie was back to normal, granting wishes for gold, jewels and beautiful women.
 

© Kathleen Pitts 2000