Chapter 8

Marie dropped slowly onto the cushion of the red leather chair, her face flushed from the heat in the kitchen as well as the energy she’d expended in the hours since her husband had left for work.  Her head lolled against its high back as she felt her muscles finally start to relax.

‘I’m so glad I listened to Hop Sing, and then decided to only make the gingerbread and not the pralines, as well!’  she thought to herself.

While Ben and the boys were in the storeroom, Marie had decided to make the pralines herself, without assistance from the children, as she feared the stovetop cooking temperature was too dangerously high for little hands and mouths.  Hop Sing had relayed his previous experience with Hoss as an apprentice baker, and the tale, though highly entertaining, had served to support Marie’s decision to pare down the menu. As she stretched her arms forward and then over her head, the young woman had to smile in spite of her weariness.  The culinary exercise, which did not result in nearly as many edible tidbits as she had originally intended, yielded something infinitely more precious and memorable. 

‘I could never have finished everything without Adam’s help’ she mused, with a smile at the thought of her oldest taking charge of the occasion.  The child had been incredibly patient with his little brother and because of this; Marie had allowed Hoss to fully participate in all aspects of the experience, from cracking the eggs to mixing the dough.  What was even more endearing was the method by which Adam related his memories of Inger to the youngster, as they worked together in the kitchen.

“Your mama always had me crack the eggs over a separate bowl, so there wouldn’t be any eggshells in the cookies.”  The boy had explained, as Hoss stuck his pudgy thumbs and fingers into both sides of the egg at one time, causing bits of shell, as well as yolk and egg white, to plop messily into the heavy earthenware bowl. 

“Do you know how to get the pieces of shell out?”  Adam asked, totally unperturbed by his apprentice’s less than stellar results.

“Well, I guess ya use your fingers” the towheaded child replied. 

“Nope,” said his older and wiser sibling.  “You use the largest piece of shell to pick up all the little ones with.  I’ll show ya.”

With that, Adam deftly chased all the bits of hard outer covering from the orange tinged interior, leaving a perfectly usable egg for the cookies.  Hoss watched, fascinated by the ease with which his sibling completed the task. Adam then demonstrated his own egg cracking abilities, lightly tapping the shell on the side of the bowl, and separating the two halves, leaving the yolk intact.

“Golly, that’s great, Adam!”  Hoss said admiringly.  “I want ta practice ‘til I gets as good as you.” 

Marie interjected, “You can practice with me, sweetheart, when we make breakfast on Sunday morning.  But no practicing while you’re collecting the eggs from the hens!” 

Hoss giggled at her comment and turned back to the task at hand, as his brother now dipped the measuring cup into the flour canister.  Adam, a study in concentration, filled the cup to overflowing.  With his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth, the child carefully leveled off the top of the cup with the back of a table knife.  The majority of the excess fell back into the canister, however, a powdery trail of flour remained on the wooden table, as he measured each of five cups into a spatterware bowl.  Marie ignored the mess, thoroughly enjoying the interaction between the two bakers.

“Now, when you measure, you have to be real careful to get it right, otherwise the cookies won’t come out the way they should” the dark haired little boy explained in a serious tone.

“But, it’s okay iffin you puts in more sugar, ‘cause cookies is supposed ta be sweet, right?” Hoss queried.

“No, if you do that, then they get brittle and taste kinda burned” Adam replied, obviously speaking from experience gained by doing the exact same thing while helping Inger.

Marie interjected, “And, Hoss, Hop Sing and I have a lot more baking to do, so we don’t want to waste anything or there won’t be enough.”

Hoss’s  eyes lit up at the thought of even more sugary baked goods to sample, so watching intently as Marie then measured the sugar, he cautioned her, “Be careful, Mama!  We don’t want ‘em too sweet!”

She laughed at this sudden shift in her young son’s opinion, and added the sugar to the butter that was already measured out in a different bowl on the table.  Grasping the wooden spoon that she had used for the butter, she began to cream the two ingredients together. Marie then turned to Adam, and indicated the molasses and pearl ash with a nod of her head. She said, without thinking, “Mon ami, could you please measure the leavening into the molasses for me?”

Adam gave her a puzzled look, and Hoss’ countenance was equally perplexed. 

“Were you talking to me, Marie?”  The older boy asked, in an uncertain, though polite way.

The young mother, blushing as she now realized what she had said, quietly replied, “Yes, I was.”

“What does ‘mon ami’ mean?”  He queried, liking the way the phrase sounded as he said it aloud. Marie stopped what she was doing, and noticed the expectant, and almost pleading, way Adam’s hazel eyes met her own. 

Smiling at the child, she said, simply, “It means ‘my friend’ in French.”

Adam’s eyes brightened, as his face took on a glow of happiness and he smiled in return.

“I like that.”

The two were caught up in the significance of the moment, which was totally lost on the other witness to the exchange.  Looking from his mother to his brother and back again, the little boy exclaimed urgently, “Whatcha waitin’ for?  We gots cookies to bake!” 

This brought both of them back to the present, and Adam, rolling his eyes at his sibling, moved to the far end of the table to add the leavening to the treacle. Marie, delighted at the way Adam accepted the endearment, completed her part of the assembly line by beating the eggs with the vinegar, and placing all the liquid ingredients together into the sugar and shortening mixture.  After she assured that they were following the recipe correctly, Adam, with some overzealous help from his little brother, supervised the sifting of the cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger into the flour. 

The older child continued imparting his wisdom as to culinary “do’s and don’ts” to his impatient assistant, as said assistant, kneeling on a chair in order to gain the necessary height to accomplish the task at hand, sent light clouds of flour into the air as he mixed in the spices.

“And you always mix the dry stuff, like the flour and the spices, together before you put it into the wet stuff, like the eggs and the milk” Adam stated, with a note of authority in his voice. 

“Why?” The younger child asked, not so much because he wanted to know, but because he wanted to try to catch his older brother without a pat reply for everything.

Adam paused for a moment, searching his brain for the reason behind the rule. Remembering the explanation he had received when he had questioned Inger on the same subject, he uttered what, to the child’s way of thinking then, made perfectly good sense.

“’Cause Mama said so, that’s why.”

“Oh” said Hoss simply, accepting the answer with the same aplomb with which it was given.  Marie brought her hand to her mouth to hide her amusement at the line she had used numerous times with her youngest, when further explanations were unnecessary.

‘It seems Inger and I have a lot more in common than I realized!’  Marie thought, as she imagined a five-year-old Adam’s unceasing questions, and a practical Inger using the one pat answer that would satisfy her little one’s curiosity and maintain her sanity at the same time!

“All right, boys” Marie said, as she finished bringing all the ingredients together.  “Now we’ll need to let the dough chill for a bit, so it won’t stick to the rolling pin.”

“Now we gots ta wait some more?” Hoss whined, anxious to taste the fruit of his long and complex labors. 

“Yes, baby, otherwise the cookies won’t come out right.”  Marie gently explained.

With a dramatic sigh, the little boy shrugged his shoulders and turned towards his brother.  Adam looked expectantly to his stepmother, who had anticipated this response on the part of her youngest, and had devised a plan for keeping both her children occupied until the cookie making could res

ume.

“Mon ami” she directed, intentionally using the pet name this time, just to see the dimple in Adam’s cheek as he soaked up the affection in her tone. “Please take the bowl out to the storage room so it will cool more quickly.”  She placed a linen towel over the top of the container and handed it to the child, who headed out the door to do as his mother instructed.  Upon his return, he found Marie and Hoss at the dining room table.  Marie had spread an old tablecloth on the highly polished wood surface to protect it from any unintended damage.

“What we gonna do now, Mama?”  Hoss asked, forgetting the discussion earlier that morning.

“Well, first we’re going to look at the ornaments that Papa brought in and then we’ll make some of our own.” 

“Oh, boy!”  Hoss exclaimed excitedly.  “Can I makes some more paper chains like at school?”

“Of course you can, dear.”  Marie smiled sweetly at his exuberance. “But let’s see what’s in here before you and your brother decide what you want to make.” 

“‘Kay” said Hoss, as he grinned at Adam, who was now sitting in his usual place at the end of the table.

Marie undid the twine that held the package together, and hesitated for a moment, while she glanced towards the far end of the table.  She had not seen the ornaments before, since last year’s tree had been hastily decorated with strings of popcorn, pinecones, and some red ribbon that Marie had purchased for a dress she had planned on making.  She hoped that the cheerful atmosphere of the past week would not be altered by this possibly painful reminder of the past.  Adam, however, looked on eagerly as she removed the string and reached carefully inside the brown wrapping paper.  Hoss was equally intrigued with the contents.

“Oh, aren’t these sweet!”  Marie exclaimed as she withdrew some miniature horses made of pine, each highlighted in a slightly different manner with red and green paint and tied with a piece of yarn. 

Adam grinned, as he remarked, “Those are dala horses. Mama said they were the national symbol of Sweden.”

“What’s Sweden?”  Inger’s little son asked.

“That’s where Mama and her brother, Uncle Gunnar, were born.  It’s a country across the ocean in Europe.  Their parents and them came to this country when Mama was a little girl and her father opened a store in Illinois.”

“And her pa was called Eric, like me?”   Adam nodded his agreement, and Hoss felt a tingle go up his spine as he now knew something about both his grandfathers. 

‘Afore today, I didn’t even know I hads a grandpa, and nows I gots two of ‘em,’ thought the child happily.

Marie had spread the tiny horses upon the table and was now removing some stars, angels and more horses, made from twisted pieces of straw.  The ends were bound together with silver and gold thread, and were intricate in their design.

“Uncle Gunnar made those for Mama to put on our tree.  He said they were like the ones they made at home.”  Adam reached for one of the ornaments, remembering how the shiny thread had caught the light from the fireplace back then.

Marie marveled at the obvious skill that it took to make these characters and was pleased to see that, for the most part, they were still in useable condition. As she reached into the package yet again, she felt something that was rigid and yet light and delicate at the same time.  As she withdrew her hand, her eyes fell upon the white, tatted snowflake, which had been heavily starched to maintain its form. 

“What is it, Mama?”  Hoss asked, as the design was not obvious from his perspective.

Marie suspended the ornament from her fingers by its bright green ribbon for the child to see. 

“Oh, it’s a snowflake!”  Hoss exclaimed, as even his untrained eye could appreciate the complicated pattern and the obvious craftsmanship of its creator.  Adam smiled as he remembered Inger patiently crocheting each little vein on each small form, and her determination to make them all unique in their own right. 

“Mama said that she couldn’t make them all exactly the same because she made up the patterns as she went along.  She said they were kind of like people, all made in God’s image, but each with their own special touches that make them different from everyone else.”  Marie looked lovingly at Adam as he said this, and nodded her agreement with the sentiment. 

The last item in the pouch was constructed of heavy paper, and was apparently made with a great deal of care by its very young artist.  It was not an ornament but a picture, which depicted a tall, dark haired man with ebony eyes, a blond woman, almost as tall as the man, and a small boy, posed between the other two figures, with each of his hands holding one of the adult’s hands.  All of the figures wore a broad grin, and there was a huge Christmas tree behind them, decorated with small horses, stars, and snowflakes. On the back of the picture, in carefully formed letters, was an inscription: 

TO PAPA and MAMA  

Mary Xmus  

Lov,  Adam 

The artist in residence covered his eyes with his hands as his mother held up the picture, and a flush of utter embarrassment colored his cheeks. 

‘Why did Pa keep that old thing?’  He wondered to himself, as he peeked through his fingers, waiting for his sibling to tease him about his juvenile attempt at portraiture.

His little brother, however, found the drawing to be very much to his liking and said so.

“Golly, Adam!  I wish I could draws as good as you.”  There was a flicker of disappointment on his round little face, as he considered his completed Christmas gifts and how, in his mind, they suffered by comparison with his brother’s drawings at the same age.

Noting the consternation that was apparent on Hoss’ face, and deducing the likely reason behind it, Adam shared his parents’ reaction to his gift. “Mama and Pa told me that it was exactly what they had hoped for, and it was even more special ‘cause I made it all by myself.  That’s the best kind of gifts, ‘cause you think about the people you’re making ‘em for while you’re doing it.”

Adam caught Marie’s eye as he said this, and as he had hoped, she picked up on his hidden message.

“Yes, sweetheart, Adam’s right.  Christmas is about giving to others, and the greatest gift you can give is something that comes from your heart.”

Hoss’ confidence in his abilities was immediately restored, and his demeanor reflected his understanding and acceptance of their statements.  Marie’s declaration also brought the subject of his gift to her to the forefront of Adam’s mind.

‘What am I going to find to give her?’ 

Marie noticed the unrelated look of consternation on her eldest stepchild’s face and wrongly assumed that their activities and conversation had brought up too many still painful memories.  Hoping to leave the past behind for the moment, she turned to Hoss and asked him to assist her in gathering the items they would need to make some new ornaments for the tree.

They soon returned with Marie’s rag bag, button box, paste, colored paper and any other items that she thought could be useful.  She also brought out the pomegranates, apples and the extra ribbon she had purchased, and began tying a length of decorative trim about the stem of each piece of fruit.

Hoss eagerly set out to cut some varying lengths of red and green paper, just as he had at school with Adam, in order to fashion some additional chains for the tree.  The older child sat quietly, trying to imagine what he could make and how the tree would look in all its holiday finery.  He absentmindedly sorted through the buttons, and various odds and ends, in the metal box. 

“Where did these beads come from?”  He asked, as he found several types in various sizes and colors. 

“Oh, I had bought those years ago, and the string that held them together broke.  I never got around to having them restrung so I just put them in there” Marie answered.  “You can use them if you like.”

The powder blue ones were quite pretty and looked somewhat like eyes.  He tried to imagine what type of figure he could design with them.  Digging about in the rag bag, he found some pale blue silk and what appeared to be some type of stiff netting from a lady’s hat in a pretty shade of pink.

The boy turned his head towards the space next to the staircase, seeing in his mind’s eye, the tall Ponderosa pine soon to be in residence there.  He imagined the tree covered with all the ornaments, as well as popcorn and cranberry strings, and the numerous paper chains that his little brother was, at this very moment, completing at a furious pace. 

As he saw the tree in its finery, he suddenly remembered that they were missing the most important decoration of all!  Instantly piecing the image together in his brain, he searched with heightened interest through the bag, hunting for the necessary items to make his idea a reality. 

“Marie?”  He asked politely, as his search did not yield all of the things he needed.

“Yes, Adam?” 

“Do you have any muslin scraps, say about this big?”  He showed the minimal dimensions he needed with his hands, “and perhaps some yellow yarn, about two feet or so?”

“Please?”  He added without prodding.

Marie’s heart skipped a beat when he mentioned the yarn.  She had (during the same final trip to town that yielded the candles and holders for the tree) discretely purchased a skein of soft yellow yarn with which to knit a baby blanket. She had paid cash for the item, as she didn’t want to arouse Ben’s suspicions, especially since, at the time, the baby had yet to make its presence known even to its mother.  Given the lack of disclosure on her part since the dream became a reality, she had not yet started on the coverlet.

“Um…I think I may have some yarn upstairs,” she said, in a purposely tentative way, “and I know I have some muslin in the sewing basket there by the settee.”  She indicated the basket’s location with a nod of her head, puzzled by her son’s sudden interest in such things.

Marie headed to her room for the yarn while Adam searched through the basket for the cloth.  Hoss was too busy assembling his chains to pay any attention to the goings-on, so Adam did not have to explain his idea as he went along, which was normally the case when the child’s curiosity was aroused.

“You’re in luck, Adam.  I did have some yarn.  Will this work?”  The young woman held up a length of fiber she had cut from the rest, so he could see the color. 

“Yeah, thanks, Marie!  That should work just fine” the child replied happily.  Marie added the yarn to the pile, and resumed her seat at the table, watching the boy from the corner of her eye as she continued to fashion bows around the produce on the table. 

Adam worked quietly and diligently on his project, stopping only to ask permission for a bit of thread and a needle from the basket, as well as the use of the paste pot that his brother had been monopolizing.

“Hey, Hoss.  Could I borrow the paste pot for a little while?”  Adam asked in a kind way.

The younger child, now surrounded with at least a half dozen paper chains of different lengths (and assembled with varying degrees of accuracy), lifted his head at the question.  His interest in his older brother’s endeavors was immediate, as he moved the paste within Adam’s reach.

“Whatcha makin’ Adam?”  The little boy cajoled.

The older child said with a smile, “You’ll see.”  

It soon became obvious to Marie that Adam was fashioning something that was totally in keeping with the spirit of the season and yet meaningful in another way.  It seemed to signify his acceptance of Inger’s passing from this life into the next, and his belief that her spirit would always be watching over this family.

When he finally finished, he held up the delicate figure for his mother and brother to see.

“How do you like it?”  He asked cautiously, suddenly realizing that he had been forming the tree top decoration with his late mama in mind.

The figure was an angel, with yellow yarn hair and eyes made from two blue beads. She was wearing a blue silk gown attached to the pink wings he had made from the netting. He had added two of his father’s pipe cleaners, one wrapped with gold colored thread and fashioned into a halo, and the other attached to the gown as a kind of scepter, with a small star at the tip. Her muslin face held just a trace of a beatific smile.

“Oh, sweetheart, I think it’s lovely” Marie said, truly happy that the boy had made the angel in his late mother’s image.  Adam smiled his thanks, and was relieved that his stepmother did not seem to be bothered by the obvious inspiration for his creation.

“Yeah, that’s real purty, Adam” Hoss agreed, appreciative of the craftsmanship but not making the connection to his own mama. 

“Thank you.”  The child sat up proudly, pleased that his creation was valued for the work he had put into it.  “I guess I’ll have to tie it onto the top somehow, once we get the tree.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find something that will work.”  Marie said. 

Hoss, who was used to a mid-morning snack, felt his tummy rumble as the clock struck ten.  “Mama, are we ever gonna make them cookies?”  He asked plaintively, as if he had not been fed in days, rather than hours.

“Yes, darling.  The dough should be just firm enough to roll” his mother replied, with a grin.  “You and Adam go wash your hands, and then we’ll finish making them.” 

“Hooray!”  Hoss yelled as he and his brother headed for the kitchen.

The rest of the morning was spent completing the cookies.  Marie rolled and cut the dough and made a small hole at the top of each one in order to allow them to be used on the tree. She smiled to herself as she did this, realizing that perhaps one in five might actually make it to the tree, before they were eaten!

Once the cookies were done, and were cool enough to decorate, she settled the boys at the little white kitchen table.  Each was given a small paper cone filled with stiff white icing with which to decorate, along with dried currants, small cinnamon candies, black licorice and the like.  Boys being boys, each one found a slightly less than perfect specimen to be eaten immediately. 

“Hmmm, these are really good, Marie” Adam commented, as he reached for another cookie to dunk in the milk she had just brought to the table.  Hoss nodded his agreement, as he quickly sought to assuage his hunger with his third helping.

“Now, boys. More decorating and less eating, please” their mother admonished.  “It will be dinnertime soon and I would like to have this finished by then.”  The boys devoted themselves to the task, and soon there were a dozen and a half little brown men, decorated by one child with an eye to detail, and by the other with a penchant for speed.

“I gots to make one for Papa” Hoss stated, remembering his father’s request that morning.  With much more care than he had exhibited previously, the child painstakingly added icing to the cookie, followed by two currant eyes, a licorice mouth, and three cinnamon candy buttons. 

“Papa will be very pleased with that, Hoss.”  Marie praised, as the child carefully moved the cookie to one of the trays that held the other creations. 

Hop Sing entered the kitchen then, in order to prepare the noontime meal.  He had mentally prepared himself for the sight of his normally spotless kitchen in disarray and, as he surveyed the scene before him, was able to contain his emotions at the mess.  The sink was full of dirty dishes, and it appeared that every mixing bowl the family owned had been used.  There was flour over most of the surfaces, egg shells fragments on the floor, and cookie crumbs on the table. 

Aside from all this, the cook noted one other thing that he had not found in this kitchen before.  Two very happy little boys and a tired, but very content, mother were enjoying each other’s company, laughing and commenting on the cookies each had made.  It was obvious that the most important thing that had been created that morning were pleasant memories that would last a lifetime.

Chapter 9

At the same time Adam and Hoss were entertaining their stepmother with their culinary escapades, Ben was taking advantage of the momentary respite from winter’s fury.  He hurried to complete as many of the ranch’s tasks as time and manpower would allow.  Aside from the desire to assure his livestock’s comfort and even more importantly, their survival, the young family man had an ulterior motive, as well.

‘If we can just get the last of this hay delivered to the stock today, I can spend the rest of the week with Marie and the boys.”  He knew this was possible if the hands would put in an extra effort. 

‘Not that they don’t always give 100 percent!’   Ben looked admiringly at the men currently toiling by his side, both of them dependable, hard working and loyal. 

He normally maintained a skeleton crew at this time of year, as there wasn’t enough work to keep everyone busy.  In addition, many of the men preferred to move to warmer climates during the harsh winter months, returning for round up and branding of the calves in the spring. 

The men who remained on the payroll year round were those who had been with Ben since the very beginning, and who considered the Ponderosa not just their workplace, but their home.   Jake and Charley were two of these, both having signed on when Ben needed hands for his first drive to market three years before.  The trio was busy with pitchforks, as they moved the hay from the haymow on the sledge onto the icy ground for the steers and heifers in the lower pasture.

‘I could never have achieved half of what I have if it weren’t for them and….’  He was immediately saddened by the thought of the one person that had been an integral part of all of this, who was no longer alive to behold the fruits of his labor. 

‘Jean, my dear friend, how I miss you and your counsel!’  He smiled a little as he remembered the running joke between the two of them.

‘You always said you could make a rancher out of this old seadog, and now you aren’t here to appreciate your best student!’   Ben shook his head, as he considered the fact that Jean’s wife was now his wife, and how fate had intervened in his life once again.

Unaware of the reason for his employer’s sudden silence, Charley paused for a breather from the task at hand, and spoke in a winded voice.

“Cain’t believe another Christmas is here already, Boss,” said the man, as he removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Yeah, neither can I,” agreed Jake as he reached down for a handful of powdery snow to quench his thirst.

Pulled from his reverie, Ben straightened to his full height, feeling the kinks ease in his muscles. He replied in a jovial manner, “If Hoss and Adam had anything to say about it, we’d have a Christmas about every six months!”

All of them laughed at this, as Jake and Charley had been peppered with questions by both children, about what presents their father might have hidden for them in the bunkhouse.  Ben knew that the men were more than trustworthy and would never spoil his little ones’ Christmas by disclosing the contents of the wooden chest which held their holiday gifts. The boys were not allowed to enter the employees’ residence at any time without express permission from Ben and of course, that permission was never granted this time of the year.  In addition, both young men were single and thoroughly enjoyed the constant cajoling on the boys’ part to gain any insight into the treasures that would be found under their tree come Christmas morning.  (Hoss, of course, also “knew” that St. Nicholas would be bringing both boys extra presents, besides the ones their parents provided.)

Without thinking, Charley exclaimed, “Boy, that’s the truth!  Those young’ns of yours are sure all fired excited ‘bout the holidays this year!” The tall gangly man regretted the remark as soon as it had escaped his lips.  “Uh, I…I didn’t mean nothin’ by that, Mr. Cartwright” he quickly apologized, embarrassment evident on his face.

Jake and Charley had each observed the abrupt change in attitude that had occurred in the last few days on the part of the oldest Cartwright child. It had been obvious to them that the boy was not happy with his father’s new wife and the situation had grown increasingly tense over the past year.  However, for some unexplained reason, Adam’s attitude and disposition had taken a turn for the better, and, fortunately for the ranch hand, this had impacted Ben’s demeanor in a positive way as well.

“It’s all right, Charley, don’t worry yourself about it” Ben said benevolently.  “Last year was a difficult one for all of us.”  He smiled as he considered the fact that providence had been especially kind, and this holiday would be one to remember.

The men returned to their task in a comfortable silence as the sun slowly rose in the sky and attempted to break through the gathering clouds above them.  

Ben was seldom introspective, but, the discussion of the previous evening with Marie had conjured up even more reminiscences than those that he had chosen to share with his wife. Inexplicably, his thoughts were now focused on another very special Yuletide, the sweet memories of which would always remain his and his alone. As he reached for yet another forkful of hay, and pitched it off the platform towards the lowing animals huddled together in the biting wind, his mind’s eye saw him standing at the base of the stairwell of the Stoddard residence in Boston. 

            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

A dozen years younger, the still somewhat callow fellow was dressed in his finest bib and tucker, with his cutaway coat and form fitting trousers setting off his rugged good looks and muscular frame.  He glanced at the large clock near the front door, whose second hand was moving swiftly towards the hour when the family’s guests would be arriving for their Christmas Eve soiree. 

“What in the world is keeping her?”  He said, inadvertently speaking the words aloud.

The response to his unintentional question came in the form of a chuckle from the high backed chair near the hearth, where his father-in-law was settling back in the cushions, with a bit of kindling still burning from the fireplace.  The older gentleman placed the glowing ember to the tobacco in the bowl of the pipe he held tight in his teeth, inhaling deeply as he did so.  The unmistakable aroma rose into the air and mixed with the equally heady smells emanating from the kitchen, where the longtime family friend, the widow Callahan, had outdone herself in preparing the holiday repast, as a favor to her deceased girlfriend’s daughter and her new husband.

Ben reddened slightly as he realized his mistake, though Abel took the query as the most natural thing that a young husband might ask of his wife’s male parent.  “Aye, mister, ‘tis something I have wondered since I was a young man standing in your shoes.”  Shifting slightly in his seat, he gave the dark haired man a wink and a nod, as he said, “I always found that the result was well worth the wait, however.”

The younger man grinned self-consciously, as he considered his elder’s advice. He turned with a sigh and, in an effort to make himself more comfortable, started towards one of the velvet side chairs near the settee, as it seemed that the wait would be of an interminable duration.

It was at that moment that Elizabeth Stoddard Cartwright began her descent from the second floor. Ben, his attention drawn by the whisper of her rustling petticoats, followed the source of the sound with his eyes and immediately saw the truth in what Abel had said.

The raven haired, alabaster skinned beauty smiled coyly at her spouse as she made her entrance.  The nineteen year old newlywed was resplendent in a gown the color of her iridescent gold-flecked hazel eyes, with a décolletage only a married woman could properly reveal.  Her curly tresses were held in place atop her head by two tortoise shell combs, which had been gifts from her fiancé, the same man whose impatient attitude had much improved thanks to the divine image on view before him. 

Liz paused at the foot of the stairs, as she beheld her dumbfounded husband, whose countenance was a mixture of surprise and barely concealed desire.  Her eyes sparkled with delight at the look on her beloved’s face, as she swept past him into the room, twirling around so her entire ensemble was displayed to her appreciative audience. She pouted prettily as, in her usual devilish manner; she couldn’t help but ask, “What’s the matter, darling?  Don’t you like it?”

Ben, closing his mouth soundlessly, fought to keep his response appropriate in deference to his father-in-law, who was taking in the whole scene and enjoying the young man’s discomfiture immensely.

Before responding to his wife’s obviously impertinent question, Ben silently wished that he could, at that very moment, trade places with the filigree locket and fine gold chain that adorned her neck and lay in the crevice between her perfect breasts. 

“You…you look…” he began, frantically searching his brain for the one word that would do justice to the goddess before him.  “Magnificent” was the only one that came to mind.

“Why, thank you, kind sir”  the young woman said, her face wreathed in smiles, as she curtsied deeply before her husband, watching him secretly through her thick, dark lashes.

Ben reached down and took her hand, lifting her towards him as she rose.  The kiss he gave her was perfectly proper given their audience, however, the look in his eyes and the way his mouth quirked up on one side as they parted, caused Liz’s heart to skip a beat.

Before they could continue their verbal repartee, there came a loud knock on the door. 

“Merry Christmas!” came a booming voice from the outside, as others could be heard laughing and chattering as well.  “Let us in, Ben, it’s colder than a well digger’s toenails out here!” 

Taking Liz by the hand, Ben greeted their guests and hurriedly shut the door after them.  Five other couples (all of whom had grown up with Liz in the seaport town, or were first mates on their respective vessels, just as Ben was for Captain Stoddard), removed their cloaks and hats, and paid their respects to Liz’s father.  The women all admired each other’s festive attire, while the men compared notes on how long it had taken their respective spouses to primp and prepare for the evening.

The cold and famished young men and women warmed their hands by the inviting fire and gladly accepted their hosts’ offer of some Christmas “cheer” and a bounty of holiday fare, which had since been arranged on the sideboard and fine walnut dining table.

There was much laughter, along with the sharing of good food, good wine, and the spirit of the season.  Unbeknownst to the others, Liz continued to drive her husband to distraction by catching his eye, and lightly touching her neck, or turning just so and winking so only he could see.

After the meal and some lively conversation, the furniture in the large drawing room was moved aside and the carpets rolled up, to allow for the dancing to begin.  A small ensemble consisting of a fiddler, guitar player and a young seaman’s apprentice, who was very musically inclined when it came to the concertina, provided the music.

As the couples all knew each other well and were totally at ease in this informal setting, there was no need for dance cards or the usual conventions one would find at a larger function.  Given this, and her aforementioned penchant for flirting with her husband in a very understated manner, Liz made a point of dancing with all of her male guests and her father, before dancing with her spouse.  She spun about the room, her face alight with the glow of the fire and the candlelight, and made sure to catch Ben’s eye as she and her current partner circled about him and his partner.

Ben watched and responded to her subtle cues in his normally placid way, though it seemed to both of them that the room’s temperature was beginning to rise, as her signals became much more deliberate and his desires much more pronounced.  Knowing (and enjoying!) her little games as he did, Ben continued to play along, dancing with all the other females, even Mrs. Callahan, who was persuaded to join the festivities as well.

The other couples were oblivious to this silent exchange, as the musicians provided a wide range of entertainment, from quadrilles to waltzes to the occasional minuet for Captain Stoddard’s benefit. As the trio began their second set of the evening, Ben determined that his naughty young wife had toyed with him enough, and it was time to give the lit

tle minx a taste of her own medicine.

The young man approached his spouse, and, without a word, took her firmly by the elbow and escorted her to the dance floor.  Liz, noting the solemn demeanor and no nonsense attitude of her husband, bit her lip and averted her eyes, as she realized she might have overdone the teasing.  Taking her about the waist and pulling her to him, Ben gracefully moved around the others and the two twirled about the room in an effortless and elegant way.

Seeing that his artificial deportment had had the desired affect on his now clearly repentant spouse Ben eyed her in an almost lustful way. He then whispered so only she could hear, “Just wait ‘til I get you alone, Mrs. Cartwright!” and gave her a rakish grin that left no doubt as to his intentions.

Liz felt the flush of both desire and relief within her, as she beamed at her husband and squeezed his hand tightly in her own. 

The clock soon announced the midnight hour, and the musicians finished the final selection of the evening.  The guests gave their thanks and best wishes for a joyful Christmas to their hosts and hurried off into the cold, crisp air, leaving Ben, Liz and the Captain to adjourn upstairs to their respective rooms for the night.

The exhaustion and exhilaration of the evening’s activities were immediately forgotten, as the young couple entered their own private quarters and Ben closed the door swiftly behind them.  Gathering his beloved in his arms, he finally gave full vent to the passion that had been building since Liz’s entrance that evening. 

It was a magical night, and their mutual desire seemed to burn even more brightly than before.  However, it turned out to be much more special than either of them realized at the time. A few months later, the existence of an extraordinary “Christmas gift” was confirmed, and the memory of the celebration which ensued with that announcement, was something that Ben would cherish forever.

Ben sighed audibly now, not in anguish over his lost love, but due to a newer feeling of contentment and peace within himself.  He found that he could somehow remember the fun and the happiness that he and Liz had shared, without the overriding melancholy that had previously colored his recollections of her.

‘Ah, Liz!’  He thought, with a nod to the quick wit and impish qualities that their son had inherited from his mother.  ‘What will I do when the time comes for that little talk I will have to have with your son?  Once he knows that it takes nine months for a baby to grow from conception to birth, and, given the fact that his birthday is September 25^th, he will then realize exactly how his parents spent their Christmas that year!’ Ben laughed aloud at this, as he knew that she would have appreciated the humor in it as much as he did. 

Jake and Charley looked at each other in bewilderment at this unexplained exclamation from their boss but both were pleased to note what a jovial mood he appeared to be in. 

“Well, boys” Ben said as they moved the last of the hay meant for this group to the ground.  “I’m famished!  Let’s find that cave we discovered last winter and have ourselves something to eat.”

Both men readily agreed and they soon came upon the rock encrusted entrance to the cavern.  After assuring that there were no bears taking up residence there, the trio hurried to build a fire, and all of them were soon enjoying a respite from both the wind and the cold.  After devouring the sizable lunch that Hop Sing had sent along, the men doused the fire with the remains of their coffee, and hastened to the sledge to deliver the rest of the feed to the cattle.

Ben drove the sledge, as Jake and Charley guided the draft horses through the snow.  Left alone with his thoughts once again, Ben wondered how the morning had gone for Marie and the boys.  He knew how much effort Marie was expending to make this a positive experience for both children, and he hoped that her intuition was right that Adam would be able to enjoy the activity without any overriding melancholy.

As the sun started on its downward arc towards the western skyline, Ben thought of another time, in the not so distant past, the memories of which had been constantly overshadowed by the tragedy that followed it. Again, his disclosure to Marie last night had served to rekindle happier musings that could stand alone and apart from the despair that had always readily come to his mind whenever he thought of Inger. The icy winter wind lost its sting, as he conjured up the images of that day in his mind, and the memory of it brought a comforting warmth to Ben’s soul that  transcended time and place.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

The spring wagon had been a wise investment, though it and the six oxen that Ben had purchased for the trip west, had left a sizable hole in the little family’s nest egg.  Ben might not have purchased such a (relatively speaking) “roomy” conveyance had it not been for his young, pregnant wife’s very ample proportions at the time of their departure from Illinois in March. 

Although Inger was not due to give birth until August, their child’s impending presence was becoming more noticeable each day.  By the time the family joined up with a wagon train heading towards Missouri in late spring, Inger was heavy with child.  If the size of her abdomen was any indication, the family could possibly be increasing by more than just one person! 

There was no predilection for twins in either Ben’s or Inger’s families, but as June turned into July and July into August, it appeared that this outcome was more and more likely. Inger hoped that she would be up to the care of two infants (as well as a rambunctious almost six-year-old) but was in fact, delighted at the prospect of twins.  Ben, on the other hand, had only one wish – that his wife and their offspring would survive the rigors of birth, as he knew that he and Inger together could overcome any challenge that fate would choose to impart. 

The wagon train had made camp that mid-August afternoon near a small pond, with sweet water and tall grass for the livestock.  For some unknown reason, Inger had felt more energized than she had in weeks. She hurried, as much as she was able, to complete her clothes washing and baking over the open fire that Ben had built when they first made camp.   She had taken a bath in an obscured area of the pool and had even been able to wash her hair, a treat she had not been able to indulge in for quite awhile.

Her young stepson, however, did not consider the prospect of a bath to be quite as inviting as his mother did!  Adam had howled in protest as his mother cleaned the trail dust from his ears and the back of his neck with the castile soap and the rough woven washrag.

“Mama, not so hard!  I’m not gonna have any ears left if you wash ‘em anymore!”  The small boy said, as he tried to turn his head from his mother’s firm grasp on his chin.

“I didn’t know you still had ears, until I started in with this soap and washcloth!”  Inger said jovially, as she inspected the job she had done.  “Now, let me do your back, sweetheart, and you can do the rest yourself.”

“Okay, Mama” Adam said with a sigh of resignation, as he knew there was no escape from this predicament unless he did as he was told.

Ben came upon this charming scene as he returned from his hunt, with two dead rabbits tied together at their back feet and slung over his shoulder.  He grinned broadly, as he noticed the change in his little boy’s appearance and hunkered down next to his spouse on the bank of the pond.

“Hello, darling” he said tenderly, and kissed Inger’s cheek as his hand settled gently on her stomach.  “How are you feeling?  Not doing too much, I hope.”  He looked at her with concern, as she had been so tired lately from the effort it took just to move about.

She smiled and shook her head, as she placed her hand over her husband’s.  “I feel very good today, dear one.  It must be the coolness of the breeze here by the water.” 

Ben kissed her once more, and then turned his attentions to the youngster sitting in the water near their feet, scrubbing purposefully at his arms and legs. 

“And who might this be?”  Ben teased, as he reached out and splashed some water in his son’s direction.  “I know it couldn’t be our son, because I can see where his hair stops and his skin begins.”

“Ah, Pa!”  Adam exclaimed, with a roll of his eyes.  “I t’wern’t that dirty before!”

“The correct verb is ‘wasn’t’ and I beg to differ with you, young man, if the color of that washrag is any indication!”  Ben eyes were merry, as Adam examined the cloth, which was white when he started and was now a dark shade of prairie soil brown. The little boy made eye contact with his father, and gave him a somewhat sheepish dimpled grin, as he shrugged his shoulders in a semblance of agreement.

Both the adults laughed at his impish expression, as Ben rose to his feet.  “Do you need any help with Adam?”  He asked as he offered Inger both his hands to allow her to rise from her place, as well. 

“No, he’s about finished, except for his hair.”  At this comment, Adam’s mouth dropped open in disbelief at the fact that he would have to wash his hair too, but his attempt at protest was cut short by a stern look from his pa. Inger continued on, unperturbed by the child’s upset at this requirement.  “Once that’s done, I’ll dry him off, dress him and bring him back to the wagon.”

“Save some soap for me, son.  I could use with a good soak myself.”  Ben said, as he bade his family goodbye and headed back to skin and dress the carcasses he carried, before returning for his bath.

The evening meal was tasty and filling, and Inger and Ben lingered over their coffee.  Adam, dressed in his cotton nightshirt, read from his primer by the light of the campfire, sounding out the unfamiliar words aloud.  The stars were brilliant overhead, and Ben leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree, as he sat with his wife positioned as comfortably for her as possible  in the crook of his arm, the back of her head resting on his shoulder.

“The baby has been very quiet today” she gently intoned as her husband brought his free hand down to its accustomed place on the crown of her belly, and she covered it with her own. 

“Maybe he’s just drowsy from all the work his mother did today” Ben said in a teasing manner, as Inger glanced up and smiled at him. 

“I just felt the need to get as much done as possible and today was a perfect time to do so” she said, justifying her decision to make the most of their respite while she could.

“I know, sweetheart, but you can’t blame me for being concerned that you’re trying to do too much in your condition” Ben responded.

Adam put up his book, and wandered over near his parents.  Inger gestured to him and he came and lay down upon his father’s outstretched legs, his head resting against the side of his mother’s soft bosom, as she gently smoothed his freshly washed curls with her hand.

“Mama?” 

“What is it, darling?”  Inger asked, knowing full well what the question would be, as it was the same one the child had been asking for months.

“When is my new brother or sister gonna come?”

“When God decides that it’s time for him or her to be born” came the standard reply.

“But, golly, Mama.  It’s been such a long time.  Ya don’t think He forgot to decide to let the baby be born, do ya?”  Adam said fretfully, with all the seriousness of a five-year-old contemplating the Almighty and His many duties in the universe.  He shifted his body and turned his worried countenance to his father.

Stifling his laughter, Ben patted his little boy on the bottom, and said in a soothing tone, “Don’t worry, Adam.  God is with us all the time, and he wouldn’t forget such an important event as the birth of your little brother or sister.”  Adam sighed with frustration, and settled back in his mother’s embrace.  Soon, his slow and steady breathing told both his parents that there would be no more burning questions from their little one that night.

Inger released her hold on her child, and sat up as best she could, so that Ben could move away and lift Adam up into his arms.  After setting him down in the back of the wagon, with a gentle kiss to his forehead, Ben returned to help Inger and put out the campfire. 

Standing on the far side of the wagon, out of sight, Ben tenderly kissed his wife and held her close.  It seemed that time was indeed standing still, and somehow, they both knew intuitively; their lives would be forever changed by the morrow.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Although dawn was still almost an hour away, Inger was already bathed in sweat. She had awakened to the first signs of labor just after she and Ben had retired for the night and had tried to keep her miseries to herself since that time.  Now, with her water sack just having broken, the incessant pain and the breathtaking contractions would no longer allow her to keep still. 

“Ben, darling…please wake up!”  She quietly pleaded, shaking her husband gently.  She purposely kept her voice low, as she did not wish to startle Adam, who was still asleep at the foot of the wagon.  Ben, normally an early riser, was somewhat irritated at being awakened before his accustomed hour. 

“What is it, dear?  Is Adam restless again?”  He murmured to his spouse.  Adam had had trouble sleeping in the past few days, as his eagerness for the arrival of his new sibling had played havoc with his routine. 

Inger, gasping as another contraction overtook her, grabbed her husband’s forearm and clamped down on it for dear life!  Needless to say, this brought Ben quickly to his senses.  He paled at the sight of his beloved wife in such obvious agony.  “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?  How long has the pain been like this?”  He asked with great concern.  Involuntary reflection on his previous experience with childbirth brought all the fearful memories of Adam’s birth rushing to his mind.  Ben knew that he could not risk losing Inger in the same manner. 

Moving quickly to the edge of the wagon, he shook Adam awake.

“Adam, run to Auntie Rachel and tell her that the baby is almost here.  I’ll stay with Mama.  Hurry, son, hurry!!”  Rachel Payne had given birth about two months before, and was Inger’s closest friend amongst the women whose families made up the wagon train.  She had heartily agreed to be at Inger’s side when her time came, as Rachel already had two children of her own and knew what to expect.

Adam, realizing that his little brother or sister would soon be here, quickly pulled on his boots and climbed down from the wagon. He ran as fast as his short legs would carry him, with his nightshirt flapping like a flag behind him.

“Auntie Rachel, Auntie Rachel!!  Mama needs you, my baby is coming!!”  The little boy yelled, oblivious to the time of day, as he rushed down the line of covered wagons to the third one from the end.   Rachel heard him coming before he reached their wagon and quickly gathered the necessary items she would need to assist with the birth along with clean linens in which to swaddle the newborn. 

Grabbing a lantern, she moved from the wagon as Adam came up, and they both hurried back down the length of the wagon train, reaching the Cartwrights’ place at the same time.  Rachel lit the lantern and pulled back the flap.

Inside she found a highly anxious father-to-be and a relatively calm expectant mother, trying to soothe her husband’s fears between her contractions. Ben’s face, in the glow of the oil lamp, took on a myriad of expressions almost simultaneously: helplessness in regards to his wife and her now almost unabated suffering, relief at the sight of Rachel, and alarm at the thought that he and Adam were still here in the thick of things.

Scrambling out of the wagon, Ben unhitched the back gate of the conveyance and helped the midwife inside.  He then realized that he had not given the mother of his second child as much as a “by your leave” in his haste to trade places with Rachel.  Leaving Adam on the ground near the wagon, he clambered back inside to place a tender kiss on his wife’s lips and whisper “I love you” into her ear.  Inger responded with a touch to his unshaven cheek with the palm of her hand and a look in her eyes that reflected his spoken sentiments exactly. 

As Ben jumped down from the wagon, raised the gate and closed the flap, he looked down into the anxious little face before him that was begging for reassurance. 

“Mama will be just fine, sweetheart.”  Ben said softly, as he knelt beside the now frightened child.  Adam’s arms went around his father’s neck and he buried his head in the hollow of Ben’s collarbone, sobbing quietly into the unbuttoned muslin work shirt that Ben had donned while waiting for help to arrive.  Picking him up, Ben rubbed the palm of his hand up and down the length of his baby’s back, and murmured soothing words of comfort in his ear, as he paced outside the now eerily quiet wagon.

A sharp cry of pain split the humid air, and Ben held more tightly to the trembling little boy in his arms.  His own breath came in deep gulps now as he wished he could take his wife’s awful pain upon himself.  ‘Please God, let this be over quickly.  Please don’t let her suffer.’ 

Ben’s prayers were soon answered as the unmistakable sound of a newborn’s cry was heard just minutes after Rachel’s arrival. 

Adam pulled his head back from his father’s chest and grasped Ben’s face in both his small hands, the tear tracks evident on his now excited countenance.  “Is that my baby, Papa?  Is that my brother or sister?”  He asked, hoping that the fact that he now heard no other sound from the wagon meant that his mama was alright as well.  Ben hesitated for a moment, thinking there might soon be the cry of a second child, as he had felt so sure that Inger would bear twins. 

Hearing none, he smiled anxiously at Adam, and carried him back to the spot from whence those cries were escalating.  “Rachel, can we come in?”  Ben asked tentatively, hoping to God that all was well within the confines of their tiny home. 

“Darling, oh, come see our son!”  Exclaimed the voice that Ben had feared he might not hear again.  Grinning broadly now, the new father and brother approached the back of the wagon, and Ben pulled aside the tarp.  Waiting for their eyes to adjust to the change in brightness, he and Adam peered inside.  There in the far corner of the wagon, was Inger, eyes bright with unshed tears, exhausted but very much alive.  In her arms was the object of her delight, a big strapping boy with light blond hair and sky blue eyes that exactly matched his mother’s.  The babe was no longer crying, as his mother held him up against her for the rest of the family to see.

Ben was slightly taken aback by the size of the child.  Remembering how small (relatively speaking) Adam had been at birth, he looked upon his newborn son and thought that he looked at least three months old already!  Adam, with the tact typical of most children his age, voiced the same thought by exclaiming, “Look how big it is, Pa!” 

“Adam,” Ben laughingly admonished as Inger and Rachel both joined in the gaiety, “that is not an ‘it’, he is your brother, Eric.” 

Adam made a face at the mention of his brother’s first name.  “Eric?  Uncle Gunnar said we should call him Hoss!”  As she placed a tender kiss on her baby’s head, Inger smiled up at her husband.  Ben, already knowing what the obvious choice would be, replied, “Well, son, why don’t we call him both names and see which one sticks?” 

“Ok, Pa.  Can I hold him now?”  asked the impatient older brother, as Ben lifted him into the wagon bed. 

“Not before his papa gets to” said an overwhelmed Ben Cartwright as he started to climb into the wagon to see his newborn son up close.  Rachel moved out of his way, telling the family to call her if needed, and the grateful man paused to lift her down and help Adam up into the conveyance.  Ben and Inger gave their heartfelt thanks to their dear friend, and Rachel went to spread the good news to the rest of their traveling companions.  Inger tenderly kissed her husband, and then handed their precious bundle to his beaming father. 

“Hello there, young fella.  I’m your pa.”  Ben whispered as he touched his right index finger to his baby’s soft pink skin.  Eric gurgled happily and looked at his father with wide, unfocused eyes.  Ben kissed the child’s forehead and took his first calm breath of the day. ‘Thank you, God’ he prayed as he beheld his new son and marveled at how perfect he was.

“Darling, he’s beautiful, and so are you” Ben said, as he looked from one to the other. Inger’s smile confirmed his statement as the two drank in the sight of the result of their love, made flesh.

Ben suddenly felt a piercing stare from the hazel eyes of his no longer ‘only’ child who desperately wanted to hold his new brother.  Inger noticed him as well and opened her arms to her other little boy.  Adam went immediately to her and gave her a resounding smack on the cheek as her arms encircled him.  “Are you ok now, Mama? “ He asked uncertainly, somewhat afraid of hugging her and causing her any additional pain. 

“Of course I am, darling.  I’m sorry if you were frightened.”   The child returned his mother’s embrace and whispered in her ear, “Am I still your baby too?” 

Inger looked lovingly into the anxious hazel eyes.  “Always and forever, sweetheart.” she said, as she kissed away the remaining tears on his pale little face. Assured of his rightful place in his mother’s affections, Adam now turned his attention to the cause of all the commotion. 

“Pa, please, can I hold him?” Adam begged, as he sat on his knees next to his laughing mother.

Ben smiled as he instructed the child.  “All right, Adam.  Sit here with your back against my side and I’ll let you hold your brother.”  Ben indicated with a nod of his head where Adam should be and the boy scooted easily into his father’s left side.  Moving the baby over Adam’s head, he laid the newborn into the crook of the little boy’s left arm, and then supported Adam’s arm with his own.  Ben continued to hold the rest of the baby’s body with his right forearm, as Adam’s eyes took in every inch of his long awaited, and already very much loved, little brother.

“Hi, Hoss.  I’m your big brother, Adam” the dark haired youngster said, as his mother and father exchanged amused glances at his uninhibited usage of the child’s new nickname.  “I’m gonna teach you how to play tag ‘nd skim stones on the water ‘nd fish ‘nd gather firewood ‘nd read, too!”  Adam reached his little finger towards his brother’s fist and was delighted when the baby grabbed hold of it with a strength that astonished him. 

“Gosh, Pa, he’s real strong!”  The boy commented as he continued to wiggle his finger in his brother’s grasp.  Suddenly, the small face puckered and let loose with a cry that frightened the birds on the small pond outside their wagon, as well as his older brother! 

“Mama, what’s wrong with him?” Adam looked anxiously at his mother for her response fearing that he had done something to inadvertently hurt the child. 

Inger smiled warmly, “Well, my guess would be that he’s hungry, sweetheart.” 

“Here son, let’s give little Eric to Mama so he can eat” his father said with a grin. Ben knew that Inger would like some private time with their baby in order to see to his needs.  “C’mon big brother, let’s see what we can make for Mama’s breakfast, all right?” 

Adam gave his parents a grin that showed the deep dimples in his cheeks.  “Yeah, Pa, I’m starved.  Being a big brother sure gives a fella an appetite!” he said as he carefully handed little Hoss back to their father and wiggled out from under Ben’s elbow.

Ben and Inger kissed each other and intoned “I love you” as he handed the infant to his mother for his first meal.  Adam crawled across the wagon bed on all fours, as his father gave him a gentle swat on his departing rear end. Ben followed him out into the bright sunshine and thought to himself that he had never seen a more beautiful day.

                        *             *            *            *            *            *            *            *

“This should be the last of ‘em, Boss” said Charley, just a bit louder this time, as he and Jake exchanged amused glances at their employer’s apparent lack of attention to his immediate surroundings.   Ben, finally awakened from his reverie, looked a bit startled to see the two cowhands standing on either side of the sledge, and the numerous steers moving towards them, anxious for their dinner.

“Oh” said Ben, looking about as if to count the number of head and confirm what Charley had said.  “Yeah, it does look like the rest of them are here.”  He turned, with a bit of awkwardness at being caught in a daydream, and moved to the back of the conveyance. Soon, the three men soon had the rest of the hay off loaded and distributed to the animals. 

The ride back to the ranch was more boisterous as Jake and Charley kidded each other about what each of them had purchased for their respective girlfriends as a Christmas gift, while Ben confirmed that they would be available to help Hop Sing with the movement of Marie’s gift from the bunkhouse to the washroom. 

“Sure, we’ll be around, Mr. Cartwright.  Wouldn’t want Hop Sing to hurt hisself tryin’ to move that thing all alone.  We’d all just pine away to nothin’ iffin he weren’t able to cook!”  Jake joked.

“And I’d have one mighty unhappy little boy at home if Hoss had to live without Hop Sing’s cakes and cookies for any length of time!”  Ben added, as all three of them laughed at the thought.

The sun was almost gone by the time they arrived back at the house.  “We’ll put the horses up and lean the sledge against the barn, Boss” Jake said as they hopped down to the ground.

“Thanks, boys, but just leave the sledge inside the barn.”  Ben directed.  “The family and I are going to cut the Christmas tree tomorrow, so I’ll need it to bring the tree back home.”

Jake and Charley nodded and Ben headed for the house, never imaging the bedlam that awaited him on the other side of the door.

Chapter 10

The afternoon had started normally enough, given the morning’s activities.  Hop Sing, knowing that Ben would not be home, and sensing that the boys (though Hoss was unwilling to admit it) were still somewhat full from their extensive cookie sampling, had prepared a relatively light noontime meal.

After finishing his soup and roast beef sandwich, the little boy turned to his brother, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.  “Hey, Adam!  Hurry up and finish your lunch so we’s can go outside again and play like yesterday!  Bet I can beat ya at the snowball fight now!” 

Adam smiled at his brother, but also caught Marie’s less than approving glance in Hoss’ direction.  The younger boy, however, was caught unawares by his mama’s next comment.

“I think a nap is what you need right now, sweetheart.”  She said gently, hoping to lessen the upset of his afternoon plans. 

“Aw Mama” came the expected response to her suggestion.  “I ain’t tired and the snow’s just perfect for snowballs!”  The whine in his high pitched voice gave more support to his mother’s directive than his own argument.

“The snow will still be there later on, and perhaps, if you’re a good boy, you and Adam can play outside then” his mother countered, the emphasis on “good boy” not going unnoticed by either child.  Hoss’ face still had a most unhappy look, and it seemed that he was about to press the issue, when she added “I don’t want a repeat of last night’s scene at supper.”

Hoss looked at her in confusion, as he still had no recollection of having fallen asleep at the table.  Noting his puzzled expression, she continued “I don’t want you…”  Just as she started to say “and your brother”, Marie happened to look up and catch Adam’s pleading look and slight shake of his head.

Swallowing her amusement at the older child’s obvious desire to have his brother remain unaware of the fact that Adam, too had nodded off at supper, Marie cleared her throat, and restated the sentence.  “I don’t want you to be overtired tonight because Papa’s going to take you to get the Christmas tree tomorrow.  You want to be well rested for that, n’est pas?”

Not wanting to be left out of the fun awaiting him the next day, Hoss grimaced a bit, but acquiesced to his mother’s wishes.  Adam, grateful that Marie had understood his silent plea and acted accordingly, now returned the favor.

“C’mon, little brother” he said good-naturedly.  “I have a book I want to finish, and I’m in the middle of a real interesting part.  I’ll read it to ya ‘til ya fall asleep.”  Marie’s pleased expression told him that he didn’t have to ask permission to do so, and thankfully, that was all that was needed to get the petulant child to abide by his mother’s request, without further protest.

“Merci, mon ami” Marie said, as she rose from the table.  “Let’s help Hop Sing by clearing the dishes, and then you two can go upstairs.” 

Adam grinned in return, as he and Hoss each carefully stacked their soup bowls on top of the luncheon plates and carried them into the kitchen.  Marie followed with her own, but not before checking to assure that her rosary was still lying in her apron pocket. 

‘Perhaps I can have a bit of a rest myself, and then recite my devotionals’ she thought to herself.  Suddenly remembering her self-imposed punishment from that morning, she added, ‘And complete my penance, as well!’

Once the dishes were delivered to the pantry, Marie hurried to collect the scraps of material and items that the boys had used while fashioning their ornaments.  She gently picked up the angel that Adam had crafted and laid it on the sideboard, along with the other decorations, where she would see them when they began to trim the tree the next day.

Adam, his arm about Hoss’ shoulders, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and within a few minutes, Marie made her way up as well, carrying the rag bag, button box and the other things to put back in her room.  She stopped by the bedroom door, intending to let Adam know she would remain in her room if he needed her for some reason.  She had started to push the door open, but paused as she heard the quiet voice of her oldest.  What stopped her was the fact that Adam was not reading, but rather singing, his little brother to sleep.

“Silent night.  Holy night. All is calm, all is bright.” 

The simplicity of the carol, coupled with the loving and unaffected way in which it was sung, brought a sting of tears to this listener’s eyes.  Until now, Marie had never realized how the hymn was so like a lullaby, until she heard it used in such a manner.  ‘What a beautiful voice he has’ she thought, as he reached the high notes without hesitation and always in perfect pitch.

Not wanting to embarrass him by catching her eavesdropping, Marie silently tiptoed down the carpeted hallway, and closed the bedroom door behind her.  She put everything away, removed her shoes, and lay down on the inviting feather mattress, pulling up the extra quilt from the foot of the bed to cover her.  As soon as her head touched the pillow, the exhausted young mother was asleep.

After tucking his brother in for his nap, Adam went to his own room.  He had noticed as he entered the hallway that his parents’ bedroom door was closed and figured that Marie was either wrapping presents or saying her daily prayers.  He had never asked her anything about her religion, which in some ways, seemed somewhat mysterious when compared to his own Protestant beliefs.  He hadn’t really cared to know more about it, given his prior propensity to avoid even speaking to his stepmother, but now that his father had relayed the story of the Italian sailor and the gift of the religious medallion, his always curious nature was aroused. 

Upon entering his room, the child placed his novel on the bedside table, and sat down on his bed.  He began to move his legs up onto the quilt, but immediately remembered what Hop Sing had said about boots on the bed, and reluctantly pulled them off.  He placed his shoes soundlessly on the floor, and stretched out on his back on the mattress.  Reaching into the front of his shirt, he pulled the medal up where he could see it.

‘Hope Pa won’t be angry with me for not putting this back in the sea chest, but once it got warm next to my skin, I forgot I had it on’ he admitted to himself with just a little guilt.  ‘I’ll make sure and give it to him tonight when he gets home.’    Starting to feel a little chilled with no boots on, the boy reached down and pulled the extra blanket at the foot of his bed up over himself. The medal on its chain fell back down his shirtfront as he did so. 

‘Wish I could think of something to make for Marie!’  he thought earnestly.  ‘This would be a perfect…’  He stretched and yawned, thinking to close his eyes to better concentrate on his subject ‘time to work…’    And with that, all the second floor inhabitants of the sturdy log ranch house were fast asleep.

                       *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Marie slowly came awake, and glanced at the small clock on the nightstand near her head.  ‘2:15…hmm, won’t be much longer before Hoss is awake.  Best say my rosary now, since I don’t know when I’ll get another chance today.’  Easing herself from the mattress, she placed her pillow on the rug at the side of the bed and retrieved the sacred beads from her pocket.  Kneeling carefully, she then bowed her head and closed her eyes, instinctively finding the beginning of the chain.  Starting the litany, she murmured the familiar and comforting words,

“O God, come to my assistance.  O Lord, make haste to help me. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”  Marie made the sign of the cross over herself, and was soon one in mind and spirit with her Creator.

About a half hour later, the sunlight in the mid-afternoon sky filtered through the window and landed on the eyelids of the youngest Cartwright child.  Hoss smiled to himself, as he watched the light through his lids, marveling at the different colors he could see even without opening his eyes.  Finally rubbing the sockets with his chubby fists, he sat up in bed and hugged his toy rabbit to him. 

“I’s gonna find Hop Sing and gets a snack, Brownie” he said to his furry friend.  “You stay here, and I’s be back later.”  Kissing the bunny on its nose, the little boy laid the toy back on the now disheveled bed, and slid down the side of the mattress to the floor.  Using the chamber pot under the bed to relieve himself, the child slipped his feet into his house shoes and exited the room. 

Curious as to what his brother was up to, Hoss moved towards the room next to his.  In keeping with his normal routine, he once again, without knocking, entered his elder brother’s domain.  He was stunned to see his idol asleep on his bed, looking very young and innocent with his hair tousled and a slight smile on his lips. 

Hoss started to giggle and Adam, upon hearing the little intruder, surreptitiously opened one eye and watched as his brother started to quietly approach his bed, intent on tickling his sibling awake.  Knowing that he could fool Hoss into believing he was just “playing possum” rather than actually napping, the older child waited until the little boy was almost upon him and then grabbed him, tickling him around his middle.   Hoss shrieked in a loud laughing way, and found his brother’s equally ticklish place on his neck and gave as good as he got. 

dam dissolved into a fit of high pitched laughter and Hoss climbed on the bed to better reach his opponent. Finally, Adam begged his brother to stop before he did something else (besides taking a nap) that he hadn’t done in years!  With a triumphant grin, Hoss let him up and amused himself by jumping on all fours on the mattress, while his sibling used the container he kept under his bed.

Marie had just finished the last of her additional recitations when the noise of her two children’s merriment came unabated through the thick walls of her room.  ‘Sounds like someone’s awake and in a much better mood’  she thought happily as she lay the rosary down on the bed and pushed herself to her feet, feeling more at peace now that she had completed her atonement. 

Just then, she heard the sound of heavy feet moving on the staircase, and a little softer shuffle of leather soled slippers coming up the carpeted hallway.  A polite knock preceded the equally polite question.  “Marie, may I come in?”

With a parting smile, Ben headed towards the front door.

“Yes, of course, mon ami.  I was just finishing my prayers” the young woman responded, as she fluffed the pillow upon which she had knelt and replaced it on the bed.

Adam entered the room, his hair still somewhat mussed, and Marie smiled at the realization that he too, must have been asleep.  “Hoss is awake, and went to get a snack from Hop Sing.  Do you have any paper I could use?  I need to wrap my gift for Pa, and Hop Sing told me earlier that he didn’t have any.”

“Well, let me see.  I may have some here” she answered, as she moved away from the bed and opened one of her bureau drawers.  Adam circled the bed to give Marie room to move about, and his eye fell on the rosary beads.  He gently picked them up to examine them further as his mother located some suitable wrapping paper for a Christmas gift.

“Here you are, Adam” she said, and turned to hand him the folded piece of paper. She watched quietly as he fingered the beads, moving them along the string that bound them together.  He felt her eyes upon him, as he studied the intricate design on the gold cross at the bottom of the strand.

Anticipating his question, she said, “That’s called the Crucifix and represents Jesus dying on the cross for our sins.” 

Looking up, Adam noted that she did not appear to be angry that he had touched her belonging without permission, so he asked, “Why are there so many beads? Do they each have a meaning?”

Leaning up against the mattress, Marie reached for the strand and patted the place next to her.  Adam climbed up and sat down where she indicated, his feet suspended above the floor, a look of keen interest apparent on his face. 

Starting from the place where the Crucifix was attached to the rest of the string, Marie patiently explained the symbolic nature of each of the different segments and why the beads were placed together in such a manner.   She also talked briefly about the different recitations that accompanied each set of ten beads, known as the decades of the rosary, and, at Adam’s request, provided a short description of the “Mysteries” upon which the devout would meditate each day.  Finally, she explained about the sanctified symbol in the center and its inclusion as a reminder of God and his love.

Taking in this vast amount of information, though given in a much abbreviated and somewhat simplified form, Adam gained an appreciation for the similarities between Catholicism and his own religious instruction, as he listened attentively to his stepmother.

“So you say the same prayer on the rosary, just like Pa and Hoss and I do in church” he said with a smile.

“Yes, child, only Catholics refer to it as the ‘Our Father’” she replied with an answering smile.

Sliding down off the bed, Adam said simply, “Thanks for explaining it, Marie. Guess I better go wrap that present.”

Feeling now a special kinship with this remarkable child, Marie offered her assistance with his plans.  “Adam, if you like, I’ll wrap your gift for your father, if you wouldn’t mind doing something for me.”  Happy to be relieved of what he felt was a tedious chore, Adam nodded his agreement.  “Down in the storeroom is a large paper box, on the shelf near your father’s sea chest.  Could you please get it, and bring it up here so I could put a bow on it?  It’s for your pa, too.”

Smiling a bit mischievously and seeing the corresponding glint in her stepson’s eye, she added, “I’ll show you what it is, if you promise to keep the secret.” 

“You bet!  I’ll make sure Hoss is in the kitchen with Hop Sing before I bring it in.  We both know he can’t keep a secret worth beans!”  And, with that, the young boy scooted off toward the door to carry out his secret mission.

Remembering one more necessary item, she added, “Oh, and Adam, I forgot my scissors in my sewing basket.  Could you bring them back upstairs with you, please?”

“Sure thing, Marie” he answered easily, as he headed out the bedroom door.

Adam successfully retrieved the box and the scissors and was quiet enough to avoid alerting his little brother or the cook to his comings and goings.  He brought both items in and laid them on the mattress, then returned to his own room to gather his gift.  There was no hint of trepidation on his part as he carried the shadowbox in to Marie.

“Oh, mon ami, your father will be so pleased with this” his stepmother said excitedly as he held it up to show her.  “What a wonderful job you did!”  Adam’s face beamed with the praise heaped upon him, and the child was rightfully proud of his accomplishment.

“I believe this will be just enough paper to wrap it.  I’ll fold the paper around it, and you can help me with the ribbon.”  The two worked in tandem, and soon the handiwork was enclosed in a cover worthy of its maker’s efforts.

“So what did you get for Pa?”  Adam asked, anxious to be taken into the adult’s confidence.

Marie slowly removed the contents of the box, and held up the garment for her stepson to see. “So what do you think mon ami?  I ordered it by mail from San Francisco and had it made especially for your father.”

Fortunately for Adam, he had always possessed, what, for an adult, is commonly referred to as a “poker face”.   Remembering his father’s oft repeated command to think before he spoke, the little boy swallowed hard and let out a low whistle before responding.

“Gosh, Marie.”  He frantically searched his brain for a comment that would be both polite and truthful, but not reflective of how he actually felt about the gift.  His quick mind suddenly rescued him from his predicament, as he thought of his little brother’s benign comment earlier that day.  “That’s really somethin’!”

The young woman took the response in the affirmative, and smiled happily as she laid the item on the bed and carefully smoothed the wrinkles out of the back of it with her hands.  Folding the arms back, she pulled the somewhat bulky item towards her, and lifted it into the box, replacing the tissue paper around it and putting the lid back over the box. She crafted a large red bow and had the boy hold his finger on the knot, after she brought the ribbon around from the back of the box.  Adam puffed out his cheeks soundlessly while she attended to the bow, thankful that he was able to borrow another useful phrase from his younger sibling’s vernacular!

Marie finished her task and, indicating that Adam should bring his gift and follow her, carried the large package to another hiding place.  Reaching the unused bedroom with its myriad of furniture, the co-conspirators placed their treasures under the far corner of the bed next to the wall.  Giving each other a wink and a smile, they headed down the hallway to the stairs.

Hoss’ crumb-covered face was clear evidence of what he had been up to since arising from his nap.  He looked up as his mother and brother approached the dining room table, where he had just finished a slice of Hop Sing’s dried apple cake.

“Hi, Mama” he responded pleasantly, as his mother came around to his side of the table, and kissed the top of his silky blond head.  Turning his head towards her, as Marie wiped his messy face with his napkin, he next addressed his brother. “Whatcha been doin’ all this time, Adam?  I thought you was gonna come eat with me” he said, a bit put out that he had had to eat alone.

Adam and Marie exchanged a smile, and she responded, “Now, little one, this is no time of the year to be asking such questions.  Adam was helping me wrap some gifts.”  Hoss’ eyes widened at the thought of presents hidden here in the house, rather than the bunkhouse, but, as usual, his expression gave away what he was thinking.  “There weren’t any presents for you, Hoss, so don’t you even think about snooping!”  Marie shook her finger at him in a show of admonishment, but was smiling broadly as she did so.

“Aw, Mama, I won’t look.  ‘Sides, Adam’s the one who’s always lookin’ for the presents, and shakin’ the boxes when they’re under the tree on Chrismas!”  Adam looked aghast at this remark, though, in reality, it was the honest truth.  Adam’s snooping was the reason the gifts for the boys were kept in the bunkhouse until Christmas Eve night.

“I do not, Hoss Cartwright!  You shouldn’t tell fibs so close to Christmas” his brother responded, concerned that Marie would regret divulging her gift to his father.

Knowing that lying was not something that either parent tolerated, Hoss heatedly replied, “You do so!  Papa’s caught you lots a times, and Charley caught you once when you was tryin’ to climb inta the bunkhouse winda!  If’n he had told Pa, he woulda tanned you good.” 

“Now, wait a minute, little brother!” the older child began, ready to defend his own honor.

Marie shook her head, and decided to nip the disagreement in the bud before it escalated any further.  “All right, you two” she said firmly, coupled with a stern look. “If this doesn’t stop right now, you’ll both be spending the rest of the day in your rooms.”

oth boys looked sufficiently chastised, and Hoss gazed at her with his saddest, puppy dog like expression.  “Please, Mama.  We’ll be good.  Please let us go outside.”  Adam, never one to be outdone by his younger brother, adopted an equally sad, though somewhat mischievous, countenance.  

Marie laughed aloud at her two little schemers and responded, “Go ahead.  But only for an hour or so!”  Both boys bolted and ran for the stairs, their argument forgotten as they scrambled to their bedrooms to change their clothes.

Once the children were bundled up and had gone outside, Marie settled down on the settee to finish Hoss’ new pair of trousers.  She had brought her scissors downstairs in her pocket, since she had intended from the beginning to let the boys frolic in the snow while she attended to her sewing.  The time passed pleasantly and she finally finished her project. 

As the clock chimed the four o’clock hour, Marie remembered another gift she had hidden away that needed to be wrapped.  She replaced the scissors in her pocket to use for the paper and ribbon, and put the sewing basket back on the floor. She rose from the settee, and went through the dining room and kitchen on her way to the storeroom. 

Hop Sing had the kitchen back to its usual spotless state and was enjoying a cup of tea before commencing with the supper preparations.  He glanced up as she entered, noting how much more rested she looked as compared to earlier in the day. 

“Hop Sing make Missy some tea?” he asked cordially, and she nodded her consent.  The two discussed the remaining baking that needed to be done before the holiday, while enjoying their refreshment. 

Marie then moved on to the storeroom and found the pouch of tobacco and the hand carved Meerschaum pipe that she had purchased for her husband by mail from a tobacconist in San Francisco.  She knew that she had gone a bit over her budget on this item, but its intricate design and fine craftsmanship were well worth the lecture she would receive from her spouse when the bill came.  ‘Besides’ she rationalized, ‘he can use this forever and it only improves with age.’   Marie had saved some of her household allowance to use towards the purchases she had made, so the burden of payment would be lessened somewhat.   

She picked up the items and carried them back through the front door, but not before stopping to watch the boys hurl snowballs at each other.  They both waved happily at her and she returned the greeting as she closed the door behind her.  She had just set the pouch and the pipe in its box upon the dining room table, when she heard a loud cry of pain, followed by a tearful shout of “MAMA!” emanate from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

Hurrying back outside, she saw Adam frantically trying to comfort his sobbing little brother, who had taken a slightly icy snowball full in the mouth.  The child had inadvertently bitten his own lip and the snow on the ground was now pink from the blood that dripped down his chin.

“Oh, baby, are you all right?”  Marie asked excitedly, as the display on the ground at her child’s feet caused her to fear that he was more badly hurt than was really the case.  The little boy’s sobs continued unabated as he noted the concerned look on his mother’s face, which made him even more upset.

“It was an accident, Marie.  Honest!”  Adam said contritely, for as much as he enjoyed competing with his sibling, it was never his intent to hurt him. 

“I know, mon ami, you were only playing” his stepmother replied, easing one child’s conscience as she tended to the other’s physical pain.  Upon examining the cut more closely, Marie determined that it was minor and used the corner of her dark colored apron to hold against Hoss’ lip as she helped him into the kitchen through the side entrance.

“Hop Sing!” Marie said, as she entered.  The unflappable Chinaman, always ready with a cold compress or a bandage of some type, had broken out the family’s medical supplies when he heard Hoss shout for Marie.  He calmly handed a cold cloth to the child’s mother, which she applied with firm yet gentle pressure on the sore lip, murmuring comforting words as she did so.  Adam sat quietly, relieved that his brother was all right, but a bit envious of the attention he was receiving from their mother.

After a few minutes, the bleeding stopped and Hoss, his bottom lip somewhat swollen, wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand.  Snuffling loudly, he looked over at his brother and gave him a wobbly smile, made all the more so due to his injury.  “C’mon Adum, let’s finbish playwin’” he said with some difficulty.  Marie’s eyes flew open in alarm as she said decisively, “There will be no more snowball fights today, young man!”  In a bit more kindly voice, she suggested, “Why don’t you and Adam change your clothes and play with your toy soldiers in the living room. Papa will be home soon and then we’ll eat.” 

Upon hearing the mention of one of his favorite pastimes, Hoss nodded his head and was followed from the room by his amenable sibling.  Marie, thanking Hop Sing for his help, left the cook to his meal preparation and returned to the dining room, intent on wrapping her abandoned presents.  She found some additional paper in the credenza by the front door and, turning back to the table, reached into her apron pocket for her scissors, as the boys returned and settled down by the hearth to play until suppertime. 

The young woman was suddenly gripped by a cold knot in the pit of her stomach, as she noticed that the pointed end of the scissors had worked its way through the bottom stitching of her apron pocket and was now apparent from the outside.  After yanking the shears back up through the hole, she frantically felt both pockets of the garment for the cherished possession she had replaced there earlier that afternoon.  Her pretty face took on a look of complete and utter dismay, as she noisily set the scissors on the table and moved swiftly towards the staircase.

Adam and Hoss were engrossed in their game, and did not notice their mother’s sudden departure from the room.  Marie almost ran up the stairs, her arm pulling her along the railing, as she rounded the corner at the top and stopped to catch her breath.  Ordering herself to walk, she carefully made her way down the hallway and opened the door to her room. 

Her eyes quickly scanned the top of the bed and she hurriedly moved the pillows about, becoming more anxious as she went.  She eased herself down on her knees and peered under the bed, all the while intoning a silent prayer for her missing possession.  Finding no trace of it, she paused to open the nightstand drawer, hoping against hope that she had unconsciously replaced it before leaving the room earlier.  She wiped away the tear that threatened at the corner of her left eye as she saw the empty satin nest where her rosary normally lay. 

“Oh, dear Jesus, please help me find it!” she whispered, as she mentally struggled to retrace all her steps in the almost two hours since she had last laid eyes on the only tangible remembrance she had of her mother.

“Adam!” she called from the top of the stairs.  “Adam, please come up here!” 

For some reason, Adam felt a shock of foreboding go through him as he heard the urgency in her voice.  He immediately jumped up from his kneeling position near the fireplace and took the stairs two at a time.  Marie’s pale face and shaking hands confirmed his intuition as she spoke.  “Adam, I can’t find my rosary!  Do you remember seeing it after we left my room?”  She clutched his biceps with her fingers, her eyes imploring him to remember some small detail that she had overlooked in her haste to find the missing religious icon.

“Umm, gosh, no Marie.  I don’t remember seeing you put it away, but I don’t remember hearing it fall onto the floor neither” the flustered youngster said, inadvertently picking up on his mother’s agitated state.  “I’ll get Hoss and Hop Sing and we’ll help ya look for it.”  Trying to think what his father would say in a situation like this, he added resolutely, “Don’t worry, Marie, we’ll find it.”  Gathering some strength from the child’s words, as she noted briefly how much he looked and sounded like Ben as he spoke, Marie nodded and followed him down the stairs.

“What’s wrong, Mama?”  Hoss asked apprehensively, his tone a mixture of the concern and fear that were evident on his round little face.  His blue eyes were clouded with tears for the second time that afternoon, since he hated to see anyone upset, especially his beloved mama. 

“Oh, mon chéri, Mama has lost her pretty beads with the gold cross” she explained, in a way the child could understand.  Hoss had often seen his mama pray with the strand of small, pink spheres that she moved on their string as she quietly spoke her devotions. 

He stuck out his bottom lip at this, which was made all the more obvious by the angry red mark on his mouth from his injury.  “I’s sorry, Mama.  I’ll find it for ya” he said purposefully, with the same amount of male Cartwright determination that his brother had displayed earlier.

Hop Sing was soon engaged in the hunt, and the four of them looked high and low for the missing prayer beads.  Marie retraced her steps, on both floors of the house, as well as the outside perimeter, but their search was in vain.  The rosary had vanished.

Certain that she would never see her beloved memento again, Marie sobbed openly as she collapsed on the settee with Adam on one side of her and Hoss on the other. Hoss started to sob, mainly because his mama was so distraught, and Adam patted her hand gently, and felt like crying himself just because he didn’t know what else to do.

Hop Sing, knowing that the pregnancy only worsened the lady’s emotional state, left the room to make her some soothing chamomile tea, while hoping that his abandoned roast pork dinner had not yet turned to charcoal. As he walked by the dining room table, he surreptitiously took the pipe and tobacco into the kitchen along with the wrapping paper to place it where he would remember to wrap it later that evening.

As the cook disappeared into the kitchen, the front door opened and the man of the house, exhausted from his physical exertion yet warm in the comfort of his memories, returned from his chores on the ranch. 

“Good evening, everybody!” he happily intoned, though his pleased countenance soon turned cloudy, as he spied his weeping wife, injured baby, and distressed little boy.  “What in the world happened to you, Hoss?  Marie, darling, what’s wrong?” he asked fearfully, then noted Adam’s uncomfortable visage and jumped immediately to the wrong conclusion.

“Adam, what have you done?” he demanded heatedly, placing blame on the child solely for his prior penchant of causing his mother misery. 

“I didn’t do nothin’!”  Adam replied angrily, jumping to his feet at his father’s declaration.  “Marie lost her rosary and Hoss got hit by a snowball and bit his mouth.  Why do you always blame me for everything that goes wrong around here?”  With that, the boy turned and headed for the stairs, the tears now falling down his cheeks. 

Ben, glancing in his wife and younger son’s direction, received a purposeful shake of the head from both.  Realizing his obvious mistake, the large man moved swiftly towards the stairs and pulled his upset child into his arms.  “Oh, Adam, I’m sorry.  It was wrong of me to assume that you had done anything.”  Adam raised his tear streaked face towards his father, and Ben tenderly cupped his hands round his little boy’s cheek.  “You made me a promise the other day, and I know you’re a man of your word.”  Hearing his pa refer to him as a man, the child smiled and Ben hugged him to his chest, kissing the top of his head as he did so.

"It’s ok, Pa.  I know what it musta looked like when you came in” Adam said generously, as Marie dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and Hoss wiped his on his sleeve.

“Oh, Mon chéri.  Adam was a great help to me today and we all had a wonderful time, isn’t that right, boys?”  She asked, attempting to regain her composure as both boys smiled up at their father in agreement.  “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll tell you all about it?” 

At that same moment, Hop Sing entered the dining room, and in his inimitable fashion, said brusquely, “Family should dry tears and sit at table before supper all dry up.”  Laughing at this timely statement, Ben removed his coat and said, “That sounds like an even better idea, Hop Sing.  C’mon boys, it’s time for supper.”  Offering his arm to his wife, the family moved to wash up before their evening meal.

Chapter 11

Christmas Eve morning dawned cold and overcast with the promise of more snow imminent in the eastern sky.  Ben and his sons moved quickly to complete their morning’s chores, knowing that Mother Nature would allow only a brief opportunity for the family to harvest their Christmas tree and they might be snowbound by nightfall.  After collecting the eggs and milking the cow respectively, Hoss and Adam scanned the perimeter of the yard carefully in hopes of spying the missing rosary’s glistening cross in the snow, but to no avail.

Breakfast was a somber affair as Marie’s red-rimmed eyes and sad demeanor set the tone for the meal.  Hoss’ lip was much better and under ordinary circumstances, he would have consumed his first meal of the day with his usual gusto.  The child, however, always sensitive to the feelings of others, barely picked at his food.  Adam, who two weeks prior would have taken a perverse sort of pleasure in his stepmother’s sorrow, now felt Marie’s loss keenly, likening it to the way he would feel if his own mother’s music box had gone missing.  The older boy made a half-hearted attempt at eating his eggs and sausage, and pushed the food around on his plate between meager bites.

Ben, at the head of the table, sighed in frustration, as he had tried last night to provide comfort to his wife, before she finally cried herself to sleep in his arms.  Marie was not typically a tearful sort of woman, so the fact that she was even more melancholy than the previous evening (when she and Ben had searched every inch of both floors of the house in an unsuccessful effort to locate the misplaced strand) caused him great concern. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Ben addressed his elder child about the family’s plans for the day. 

“Adam, I understand from your mother that you’ve made a new top for our Christmas tree.  Do we need to find a slightly shorter pine than last year to allow extra space so your angel won’t be touching the ceiling?”  Ben smiled in an earnest sort of way, hoping that his son would pick up on his effort to move Marie’s mind to other, more cheerful, topics. 

Adam looked up and caught the glance his father made in his stepmother’s direction.  “Uh, oh, yeah, Pa” he answered, as he now understood his pa’s intent.  “I would say that the angel needs at least eight inches clearance from the tree top to the ceiling, or her halo might get a bit bent!”  He smiled at his little brother, gesturing to their mother with his eyes, and hoped that he would add something appropriate to the conversation.

The little tyke’s instincts were equal to the task, as he (for once!) correctly interpreted his family’s objective.  “We needs a great big wide tree, Papa” he piped, as he stretched his chubby arms out to each side as far as they would go.  “We gots all kinds a orn…, orn…, uh…, stuff to put on it, so its gots to be real big!  Ain’t that right, Mama?”  He asked in his sweet, endearing manner.

Marie looked up, and took in the anxious expressions of all her “boys”.  Realizing what they were trying to do (and loving them for it) she sat up a little straighter and said, in the most positive voice she could muster, “Oh, yes, darling.  You, Adam and your father must find a tree with many branches to hold all the ‘stuff’ that we have.” 

“But, Mama” Hoss responded plaintively. “Ain’t ya comin’ with us to gets the tree?”  

Before his mother could respond, Adam added his two cents’ worth.  “Yes, Marie, the whole family should go.  It wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

Marie smiled sweetly at her children, touched that they would want her to accompany them on their quest for the perfect pine tree.  Scrambling for a way out of a predicament that she could not disclose, she replied, “Oh, boys!  I appreciate the offer, really I do, but I need to help Hop Sing with the rest of the, uh, baking, and the polishing of the silver, and the dusting of the furni…” Her list was cut short, however, when the aforementioned pastry chef bustled into the dining room, shaking his head in consternation at the untouched food on each of the family member’s plates.

“Missy no need help Hop Sing” he interjected impatiently, as he collected the dishes from the table.  “Hop Sing can make lest of desserts, silver alledy polish, and dusting get done quicker with no body here.”  He nodded his head once to signal the end of the discussion, and tottered off towards the kitchen, muttering in his native tongue about such rampant wastefulness.

Marie watched him shuffle around the corner, and then turned to her husband as she struggled to think of another phony excuse to mask the real reason why she couldn’t go.  ‘I have absolutely nothing that I can fit into that is appropriate for a morning in the snow!’  She thought panic stricken.  ‘All of the clothes I wore last winter don’t even button anymore.’ 

“Well, that’s settled then!” Ben declared, as he set his hands on either side of his place setting and nodded to his two eager lumberjacks.  “Boys, you may be excused. Go upstairs and put on your oilcloth pants, with two shirts over your long johns.”

The children scooted their chairs back noisily as they moved to do as their father directed.  Ben added in a slightly louder voice, as they made their way to the stairs, “And don’t forget your scarves and mittens!” 

“Yes, sir, Papa!”  Hoss replied.  “We’ll just be a few minutes!” Adam said, as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and disappeared from sight.

Turning to his reluctant recruit, Ben reached out to squeeze his wife’s hand, as he rose from his chair. The anxious young mother was in luck though, as her husband unintentionally provided the solution to her unspoken dilemma. 

“Love,” he said, in that warm and tender way he had that indicated the depth of his affection for his wife. “I think you’ll really need to bundle up.  It’s colder than a polar bear’s nose outside now and it won’t get any warmer before we get home.  I’ve got some old pants, that I know will be much too big for you, but if you wear them, and one of my flannel shirts along with all your “little necessities” you should be plenty warm enough.”

Ben always referred to her intimate garments in that way, and she gave him one of her brightest smiles in response to his statement. Thinking that her attitude was based more on his mention of her under things rather than his offer of warm, oversized clothing, the young man took the opportunity to capitalize on his wife’s restored good humor. As he stood over her, he bent down and covered her mouth with his, separating her lips with his tongue in anticipation of a more pleasant night in the offing.

Marie returned the kiss in a similar fashion.  As they parted, Ben added in an offhanded way, “If that’s the way you feel about it, you can have my old jacket and a pair of braces, too.”  

“You, sir,” she replied, in a teasing manner, as she stood up next to him, “are too generous for words.”    They both laughed at this remark and headed towards the stairway, arm in arm.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

It didn’t take much doing, on Marie’s part, to dress slowly enough to force her less than patient husband from the room before she had to don the proffered trousers. 

Ben, driven to distraction by his wife’s unhurried approach, gave up and said, in a resigned tone, “I’ll see you downstairs.” As he closed the door behind him, he added,   “But please hurry, dear, as we don’t have much time to spare.”   

Marie let out a sigh of relief (and her stomach muscles, at the same time) as she said aloud, “I didn’t think he would ever leave!” 

Before she had a chance to do anything more, the door suddenly opened again, and Ben stuck his head into the room, a pair of Adam’s old boots in his hand.  “I thought these would work best, and I put a pair of his socks inside, too.”  He set the shoes down just inside the door.  As he lifted his head, he glanced admiringly at his young wife, thinking how adorable she looked in his long flannel shirt, with her pantalets peeking out where the shirt buttons had not yet been fastened.  

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”  He asked, hoping to be invited back in, as an assistant of sorts. 

She answered in a most beguiling way as she moved towards him, “No, thank you.  I can manage, as I’ve removed your clothes a number of times, and I think I can figure out how to put them on, as well.”  She grinned unabashedly at this provocative statement, as her husband’s dark eyebrows raised high on this forehead. 

Giving her a devilish grin of his own, he replied, “Perhaps you can practice again, later this evening, hmmm?” 

“It will be evening before I’m dressed, if you don’t leave me be, Mr. Cartwright!”  She said, with an impatient wave of her hand in his direction. 

“All right, I can take a hint” he replied saucily, and pulled his head back into the hallway, shutting the door with an air of finality. 

Marie laughed and hurriedly completed her task, tugging on her son’s socks and boots and attempting to tuck in the much too long pants, before clattering down the hallway looking like a Ponderosa ranch hand, albeit a very voluptuous one.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

The boys were already outside, helping Charley hitch up the broad-chested draft horses, Betsy and Rex, to the sledge.  Ben and Marie, outfitted in heavy winter coats, left the house and headed towards the barn, with lap robes and the boys’ forgotten mufflers in hand. Holding out the scarves to them, Adam and Hoss ran over, mumbling words of apology as they looped the knitted ties around their necks. 

“Hey, Mama, you look real purdy in Papa’s clothes!”  Hoss said, his mother’s pleasing appearance apparent to even his untrained eye.  “Why, thank you, kind sir!”  She replied, holding the edges of her husband’s wool-lined coat in each hand, and giving her son a deep curtsy for his comment.  Hoss chortled, and Adam smiled shyly at her display, though the older boy was somewhat embarrassed by the fact that his stepmother was dressed like a cowboy, rather than a lady. 

Knowing that Marie would not find the sledge to be very comfortable riding, Ben then directed Charley to also bring out the sleigh.  As the man headed back to the barn, Adam addressed his father.

“Hey, Pa.  Is Charley gonna come with us?” he asked, the confusion evident on his face. 

“No, son, I thought just the four of us would go” replied his father, as he picked up the axe from the sledge, intending to put it in the sleigh with the adults.  Ben then turned to face his oldest, as he waited for the inevitable question.

“Well, whose gonna drive the sledge then?” Adam queried.   Hoss looked back and forth between the two, not fully understanding where the conversation was headed.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Ben said simply, “You are.”

“Me?”  The boy’s eyes lit up like the candles on a birthday cake, and his smile was almost blinding as he asked again to make sure he had heard his pa correctly.  “Do ya really mean it, Pa?  I get to drive the sledge by myself?”

“Well, you’ll need to have your little brother sit with you, just to keep the sledge on the ground while it’s empty, but yes, Adam, you can drive the sledge.” 

It was not very often that the young boy let his excitement bubble over but the thrill of being allowed, for the very first time; to guide a team of horses by himself was cause for celebration.

“Yippee!”  He cried as he danced a bit of a jig on the hard packed snow.  Ben and Marie laughed at this impromptu display and Hoss, equally excited to be able to ride with his older brother on such an auspicious occasion, was already heading towards the platform. 

“Thanks, Pa!”  Adam said happily, as he took his place on the wide plank seat, and gathered the reins to his steeds from his equally pleased footman, who had already delivered the sleigh to Ben. 

“Y’all have a good time!”  Charley said, as Adam purposefully slapped the reins on the horses’ backs, and guided the wooden platform forward through the snow.  His mother and father brought up the rear, with Ben urging the sorrel into a comfortable gait, which kept them just far enough back to give the boys some independence, but close enough to intervene, if need be.

“That was nice of you to let him drive the team” Marie said, as she arranged one side of the lap robe around her legs and feet.  Reaching gingerly across her husband, she draped the rest of the blanket across his lap, and snuggled in closer to his side.

“He’s earned it,” Ben replied, as he kissed the top of his wife’s forehead.  “Plus, I owe him something for unjustly accusing him like I did last night” he added, with a bit of a hangdog expression.

“I’m sure he’s forgotten all about that” Marie said, in an attempt to ease her husband’s conscience.  “Well, except for the part when you called him a ‘man of his word’.  I think he grew about two inches just from sheer elation.” 

Ben nodded in agreement as the sleigh glided effortlessly in the wake of the runners of the conveyance ahead of them.  Adam, managing the team like a seasoned professional, took his assigned task very seriously.  His solemn countenance, as he imparted his wisdom on the subject to his young apprentice, was not lost on his parents, even from their vantage point.

In less than an hour, Adam carefully pulled the horses to a halt in a clearing near the new stand of trees. The boys began to point out several fine specimens of native Ponderosa pines in the immediate vicinity.  Turning back towards their parents, both children saw their father wave his hand in acknowledgement, and waited until the sleigh came up next to them. 

“These all look like possible candidates” Ben stated, as the family disembarked from their respective carriages.  With four pairs of boots crunching through the icy snow pack, each one took a stand before the nominee of his or her choice.

“I’s like this one” Hoss declared, as he pointed to a tree that was as wide as it was tall.

“This one’s my pick” his older brother said, as he tried to determine another pine’s more than ample height based on the weak shadow that it cast in the almost nonexistent sunlight.

“I think this one would look best” the lone female in the group stated,  as her contender was chosen based on the spaciousness of its branches, although the tree was not anywhere near tall enough to fill its allotted place in the Cartwright living room.

Ben smiled as he noted that none of his family’s choices would really be the best, given the fact that he had to cut it down, cart it into the house, and try to force it to stand on a sometimes unwieldy base!

“How about this one?” he asked, pointing to a more well proportioned pine tree, whose branches were compact, and whose trunk was ample enough to support the tree during its indoor sojourn, yet not so big as to prevent its entrance through the front door.  The rest of the family gathered to voice their vote and Ben’s selection was finally declared the winner.  With a few quick strokes of the axe, he brought the tree down onto the sledge that Adam had driven into position, and soon the family was heading back home with a few pinecones and extra boughs for the hearth and for use in the wreath that would grace the front door.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

Although he had been intent on guiding the team home with a sure and steady hand, Adam’s mind had also been occupied with another, even more pressing, consideration.

‘Today’s Christmas Eve already!  I’ve got to come up with something for Marie’s gift!’  He thought anxiously, his expression darkening in concentration.  His younger brother; thinking that his older sibling was completely engrossed in the task at hand, had tried to sit peacefully so as not to disturb his focus.  After about thirty seconds of self-imposed calm, Hoss could no longer stand the silence.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, Adam?”  He asked slowly, as he swung his legs forward and back on the high seat of the sledge.

Adam, once again cautious in divulging anything to his less than tightlipped brother, bit his own lip in consternation before he spoke.  Soon, however, the desperate nature of his situation dictated that he put his usual concerns aside, swallow his pride, and beg for help.

“Hoss,” he said as he turned soulful, pleading eyes towards his passenger, “I can’t think of nothing to make for Marie for Christmas.  Do ya have any ideas?” 

Hoss was rarely asked for his opinion on any situation, let alone advice.  Curling his right index finger and thumb against his chubby chin, he hunched his shoulders and drew his eyebrows together in thought, looking for all the world like his pa at work on the ranch’s ledger books.  He made no sound as he contemplated all the possible items his mother could want or need. 

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes as he waited for the verdict from the jury of one.

“Thar’s only one thing that Mama really wants” the sage finally proclaimed.

After a seemingly endless pause, Adam asked, in an exasperated tone, “Yeah, what?”

“She wants her rosy back” the child stated in a matter of fact way as he tried to use the correct term for the missing prayer beads.  Adam’s frustration was now even more evident as he frowned at the obvious suggestion. 

“Well, a ‘course she wants it back!  But we looked everywhere, and it’s gone!  I can’t make it reappear outa thin air!”  Adam said forcefully as he turned and spat to the left of the platform for emphasis.  Hoss wriggled in embarrassment at his brother’s less than pleased response. 

Suddenly, an idea began taking shape in Adam’s nimble mind, and a slow smile spread across his face.  “That’s it, Hoss!” he declared, as he slapped the leather leads purposefully.  “What’s it?” Hoss asked, looking towards the horses as if the answer to his brother’s question was written in the snow (not that he could read it, even if it was).

Realizing that he need not disclose his plan to the source of his inspiration, Adam adopted his oft used “older brother knows best” expression.  Ignoring his sibling’s question, he again smacked the reins against the horses’ haunches as he urged them to speed up across the frozen plane.  Hoss shrugged his shoulders and turned to look back at the tree whose branches were now bouncing along in rhythm with the increased momentum of the sledge.

From behind, the voice of their father cut through the icy silence that surrounded them.  “Son!  Not so fast!  Don’t forget those horses are carrying a bigger load than they came with!” Ben shouted, without anger.  “Sorry, Pa!”  Came the expected reply as Adam pulled the leads back slightly, signaling the team to resume a more leisurely pace. 

‘That’s okay” the older child thought.  ‘This way, I’ll get it all worked out in my mind before we get home.’  Assuming that Adam would be upset at being told what to do, Hoss glanced tentatively in his direction, and noted the broad grin that was evident on his brother’s face.  Shaking his head in confusion, he concluded, ‘I thought grownups was hard to figer out, but this boy is just plumb loco!” using a phrase he had heard one of the ranch hands use in describing a headstrong steer.  Sighing loudly, the little boy settled back in his seat to enjoy the rest of the ride home.

            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

It was late morning by the time the family returned to the ranch house.  Adam, at Ben’s direction, brought the sledge as close to the front porch as possible, (without disturbing the snowman, of course).  With Charley’s help, Ben unloaded the tree and leaned it against the wall just before the entryway into the house.  Hoss placed the pine boughs and cones that they had collected on the step that led to the front porch.

“Ain’t ya gonna put the tree inside?”  Hoss asked. 

“Not yet, son.” His father patiently explained.  “We need to knock the snow off of it, plus I need to fashion a stand to hold it upright before we move it indoors to decorate.”  Hoss nodded his understanding, and at Ben’s request, moved forward to help remove the winter frosting from its many branches.  This is where Adam found the two of them upon his return from putting up the sledge since Marie had already adjourned to the house to change into more familiar (though less comfortable) attire.  

“Pa, I’ve got some, uh, things I need to attend to” Adam said in a self-important manner, and asked that he be excused from assisting with the tree for the time being. 

Ben’s eyebrows rose a bit at this vague comment and he asked in an uncertain, though hopeful, sort of way, “Helping St. Nick in ensuring a Merry Christmas for everyone, son?”  Adam noted that Ben glanced towards the house as he said ‘everyone’, and as usual, the child correctly interpreted the unspoken question in his father’s eyes. 

“Yes, sir, I’m just finishing up my list” he replied, and gave his father a very deliberate wink and a dimpled smile in return. “Uh, Pa?” he asked tentatively.  “Would it be all right if I were to take a one of these pine boughs with me?  I need it for my…project.”

Ben gave his permission readily, and the boy, with the branch in hand, turned towards the front door, as Ben focused his attentions to the task at hand.  With his hand on the front latch, Adam stopped suddenly, and came back over to the man, his eyes shining under his thick black lashes. 

“I just wanted to say ‘thanks’ for letting me drive the sledge, Pa.”  The respect and admiration for his pa was evident as he spoke the words.  “You did a fine job, son” Ben said, the pride in his voice mixing with a bit of longing at one more milestone achieved in his young son’s life.  He reached out and squeezed the boy’s shoulder, and with that, Adam turned and sprinted into the house.

Ben looked over at his baby, and smiled at the little boy’s earnest attempts to reach the branches above his head.  Hoss felt Ben’s eyes upon him, and gave his pa a happy grin in return.  “I’s can help ya with the tree, Papa.  Betcha I’s can reach way high up like Adam, and I’s can carry it in too.” 

“Well, thank you, son.  You’ll be Pa’s helper today, all right?”  The gap tooth grin grew even bigger at this invitation, and Ben held out his hand to his assistant, who took it willingly, as they walked to the barn to construct the stand for the tree.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Adam made straight for his room, his mind awhirl with the details of his intended project.  He passed Marie as she came down the stairs, noting that she seemed much more composed and cheerful after the morning’s activities. 

‘She looks more like a mother now too!’  he thought, as he took in her more familiar feminine attire, his face a mirror of his unspoken feelings. Seeing his smile, Marie gave her young stepson an affectionate pat on the back as they arrived on the landing at the same time, and the boy did not shy away from her touch.

Suddenly remembering a necessary component of his intended gift, Adam asked, in a hesitant tone of voice, “Marie, I, um, need to borrow the button box, cause, I, uh…” 

‘Stop stammering, you idiot, or she’ll figure out what you’re up to!’  Adam internally chastised himself as he struggled to finish his request.

Noting the bough in his hand, Marie suspected that this request had something to do with a Christmas gift, so she spared the child any more unnecessary disclosure. 

“Of course you may borrow it, Adam.  You know where it is, so help yourself” she said in a gracious manner, without further questions. 

Adam’s relief was evident, as he sighed audibly and said, “Thanks, Marie.  You’re the best!”  And with that, he took the remainder of the stairs two at a time, and disappeared down the hallway.

Her stepson’s comments brightening her mood even more, Marie soon found herself humming holiday carols as she considered the appropriate decorations for the mantelpiece and sofa table as well as the centerpiece for the dining room table.

Hop Sing was hard at work in the kitchen and the aroma of fresh baked bread, coupled with the tantalizing smell of ham hocks and beans, made Marie’s stomach grumble in anticipation.  Hunger was not the only thing making its present known, however, as the young woman placed her hand on her midsection and felt the fluttering movements of the child within her.  She glanced down, and spoke in a low whisper, “Just one more day, little one, and you won’t be a secret any more!”

For several minutes, Marie was lost in her thoughts about how she would break her wonderful news to her spouse the next evening.   She was brought back to the present by the sound of the latch rising against the iron bar on the front door, and turned to see her husband and young son, red-cheeked and laughing, enter the room.

“The tree’s all ready ta come in, Mama!” Hoss exclaimed as he tore off his coat and scarf and dropped them on the floor at his father’s feet.  Ben shook his head and smiled as he bent over and retrieved the discarded garments, though he did not correct the behavior as he normally would have.  The little boy’s excitement was infectious and his father did not want to deflate his enthusiasm by insisting on strict enforcement of house rules.

Hurrying to his mother’s side, Hoss said, “Papa says we gots ta eat first, and then we’s can bring it inside!”  Marie smiled warmly at her little bundle of energy and removed his wool cap, using her hand to smooth the fine blond hair that was sticking out in every direction.

Winking at her husband, she said, “Well, if Papa says we have to eat first, I guess we better get to it!”  Hoss, missing the joke entirely, nodded his head and moved towards his chair at the table. However, the sound of his father’s voice caused a temporary disruption of his plans, as Ben said evenly, “Hoss, please go upstairs and wash your hands and face.  And tell your brother that dinner is ready, too.” 

“Yes, Papa” the little boy sighed as he walked past his parents and up the stairs.  Ben grinned as he watched him go, and turned back to his wife, who was giggling at her child’s dejected demeanor.  The young man then glanced hungrily at his spouse, hoping that there was something else on the menu for his midday repast besides mere food.

“I see my new ranch hand has been replaced” he teased, as he took her in his arms and nuzzled the sensitive area just behind her right earlobe.  He brushed her hair back as he moved his lips up to her ear, and then gently kissed the soft skin at her temple.  Marie made a low noise deep in the back of her throat that signaled to the man that he had aroused her in the manner intended.

“Mon Chéri,” she said passionately, as she took his face in her palms and kissed him full on the lips.

“Yes, my love?” he replied softly, with an eager glint in his eyes as they ended the kiss.

Looking into the deep chocolate pools that gave back her own reflection, she whispered tantalizingly, “Go wash your hands; it’s time for lunch” and reached around to deliver a gentle swat to her husband’s backside.

Pulling back in mock consternation, Ben rolled his eyes, and in an almost dead on impression of his younger child, said, in a disappointed voice, “Yes, ma’am,” and headed up the stairs.  Marie laughed as Ben turned and shrugged his shoulders with a resigned expression when he reached the landing. She could hear him as he disappeared from view, shouting in a jovial way, “C’mon you two; Mama says it’s time to eat!”

After a hardy noontime meal, Ben enlisted Adam’s help in moving the blue chair, settee and coffee table away from the intended path that the tree would take into the Cartwright living room.  Ben rolled the edge of the rug back and smiled at his little family as he surveyed the room. 

“Guess we’re all set.  Adam, you and Hoss put your jackets back on, and we’ll bring in the tree.”  Both boys raced to the front door, and eagerly donned their coats.  Ben slipped into his shearling jacket, and opened the door, as a blast of icy wind rushed in around them.  Pulling his collar up around his neck, Ben quickly followed the boys outside, and signaled the children as to which part of the tree they should grasp.  With Adam holding the tree near the middle and Hoss at its peak, their father lifted the base of the trunk gingerly, so as not to disturb the carefully constructed wooden crosspiece nailed to the bottom that would support the towering pine. 

Moving swiftly to the open door, the three of them guided the tree successfully through the front entrance. Marie stood guard in order to close the door as quickly as it was safe to do so.  Once inside, Ben swung his end of the tree around and moved backwards towards the space next to the stairway. 

“All right, Hoss.  Let go of your end.”  As the younger boy obeyed, Adam watched behind him, as his father slowly tipped the base of the pine downwards.  The older boy guided his part of the trunk towards the ceiling until Ben indicated to him to release his hold as well.  Ben gently eased the entire weight of the tree onto its base and then stood motionless, with one hand on the trunk, as he determined the ability of the stand to hold the tree in an upright, stable position.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, as the tree stood tall and straight on its artificial base, Ben backed away and took in the sight as he stood next to his family.  Hoss was jumping up and down in excitement, Adam was applauding, and Marie’s eyes were shining as they all admired the perfect specimen that seemed made for its location. 

“We all best get to decorating it now,” Ben said as he gestured towards the sideboard where Marie had placed the ornaments for the tree.  “Has Hop Sing popped the corn so we can string it?” he asked his wife. 

Before she could answer, Hoss reached up and pulled on his mother’s dress, dismay evident on his face.  “Mama?” he said plaintively, “could we wait ta decorate the tree til later?”  Marie looked from his round blue eyes to his father’s face and back again with a look of complete confusion.

“Wait?  But sweetheart, I thought you were so looking forward to putting the ornaments on the tree.  Don’t you feel well?” she asked in a concerned tone, automatically placing her hand gently upon his forehead.  Ben, too, reached over and put his hand in the same place as soon as the child’s mother removed hers.  The parents’ eyes met as Ben said softly, “No fever.”

Hoss, looking somewhat uncomfortable at the distress he had inadvertently caused, shook his head slowly and said, “I’s not sick, Mama.  I’s just wants to have a nap afore we put the stuff on the tree.”  His mother’s eyes grew large as she stared at her little one in disbelief. 

“You want to take a nap?” she replied, feeling a bit dizzy herself at this revelation.  Adam smiled as his little brother nodded his head in response to his mother’s question.  “I bet I know why he wants a nap” the elder child interjected confidentially.  “He wants to stay up to see Saint Nicholas tonight, isn’t that right, Hoss?”

Hoss nodded his head again, in affirmation of his brother’s conclusion.  “I’s couldn’t stay awake last year, so I’s figger’d if I go to sleep now, I can stay awake later and see ‘im tonight for sure!”  Ben brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes, chuckling to himself as he did so. 

Marie looked at her husband, noting his attempt not to laugh aloud. She then shrugged her shoulders, lifting her hands in a gesture of resignation, as she replied, “If that’s what you want to do, little one, it’s all right with me.”  Ben nodded his agreement and with a big grin, the child bounded up the stairs to take his nap.

The man made to move towards the kitchen, saying in an offhanded way, “Well, at least the three of us can get the popcorn ready to put on the tree.”  Marie smiled in agreement, but Adam looked somewhat restive at his father’s suggestion.

This lack of enthusiasm on his other child’s part peaked Ben’s curiosity and he asked in a playful manner, “Adam, don’t tell me you want a nap too?”

Adam blushed just a bit and shook his head vigorously at his father’s question.  “No, Pa.  But I was wondering if I could go to my room for awhile.  There’s something I need to finish…you know…for Christmas.”  Adam’s face was just as beseeching as his brother’s had been as he looked from one parent to the other for permission. 

“Go ahead” Ben said in a pleasant tone of voice.  The boy turned on his heel and was gone up the stairs in a twinkling of an eye. 

Ben’s eyes then took on a sparkle of their own, though the reason for his exhilaration had nothing at all to do with Christmas.  Stretching his arms above his head and arching his back at the same time, he gave, what he hoped, was a convincing yawn.  His wife watched him in amusement, her arms folded across her chest, knowing exactly what this little act was leading up to. 

“Boy, you know, all this talk about naps has certainly made me sleepy.  Maybe a bit of a lie down would be just the ticket” he said wearily, though the corners of his mouth rose a bit in a dead giveaway of what he was really thinking. 

Marie decided to play along, and responded (to her husband’s delight!), “You know, darling, maybe you’re right.  I could use a nap myself.” 

Never one to let an opportunity slip away, Ben offered his arm to his bride, as the two of them hurried up the stairs to their love nest.

            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Adam smiled broadly as he carefully tied the bow around the square box that had, until a few moments ago, held a small compass that his father had given him a few years back.  The compass was now nested amongst his socks and drawers in his bureau for the time being, until he could recover the box after its current contents had been revealed on Christmas morning. 

Thinking ahead to that time, Adam imagined the recipient’s expression when she opened the unassuming box and took in his creation.  A tingle of anticipation went down his spine, coupled with relief that he had finally thought of the perfect gift for his stepmother. 

The grandfather clock in the living room announced the two o’clock hour as Adam hid the box in its original location in the bottom drawer of his desk. 

“I’ll put it under the tree tonight, after everyone goes to bed.”  He considered this plan uncertainly, as he knew his father didn’t like anyone roaming around the house after bedtime.  ‘Well, maybe he won’t mind, just this once. After all, St. Nicholas will be here tonight, too!’ as he grinned at his own joke.

The top of his desk was littered with wood shavings and pine needles, and the contents of the button box had been dumped across his bed.  Using some old homework papers as a guide, he carefully began pushing the remains of the pine bough into his wastebasket, when he heard the sounds of his parents’ voices coming down the hallway from their bedroom.

Adam had heard their soft footfalls on the stairs earlier that afternoon, not long after he and his little brother had adjourned to their rooms.  The child was curious as to what his parents did when they were alone in their room, though he imagined it probably involved kissing and hugging. 

‘’Course they do that in front of Hoss and me all the time’ he reasoned, so there must be something more to it than that.  The older boys at school talked about some other kind of thing that a man and a woman did when they were alone, but they always ended the conversation whenever Mrs. Johnson or one of the younger children came around.  The little boy shrugged his shoulders in resignation and turned back to the task at hand.

Not wanting to be caught with any evidence of his afternoon’s endeavors, Adam hurriedly swept the remnants of the branch into the trash with his bare hand, and then stopped suddenly, with a restrained yowl of pain, as he pushed a sliver deep into his right index finger.  

“Ouch!” he said in a fierce whisper as he put the injured digit in his mouth, a trace of the metallic taste of his own blood upon his tongue.  Pulling it back to look at it more closely, he could see that the sliver had embedded itself into the tip of his finger. A small bit of it was exposed above the skin and pinpointed by a drop of blood.

Adam looked at the wound and determined that the sliver probably wasn’t too deep, although it hurt like the dickens!  Taking the end of the sliver between his teeth, he quickly pulled his hand away.  The tears came immediately to the child’s eyes as the splinter broke in two, with the remaining piece now even more painfully embedded than before.  Trying to ignore the throbbing, the little boy put the finger back into his mouth to keep it from further injury, as he hurriedly moved over to clean off the top of his bed. 

He scooped the buttons and fasteners into his left hand and hastily poured them into the metal box, never noticing the single dressmakers’ pin that had unintentionally found its way into the jumble of sewing notions.  Unfortunately for Adam, as he swept up the rest of the buttons into a pile, the palm of his hand made the discovery for him. 

“Ow!”  He cried loudly, as the pin entered the tender area just below his fingers, skewering the skin twice.  Although the child prided himself on his high tolerance for pain, the quick succession of the two injuries, coupled with his heightened anxiety regarding the completion of Marie’s gift, was too much for him. Rather than risk a second attempt at doctoring himself, the boy sat down heavily on the floor next to his bed, his frustration overwhelming him as two fat tears slowly made their way down his cheeks.

Ben and Marie, who had just awakened their younger child from his nap, looked at each other in alarm as they heard the cry of pain emanating from the next room.  Marie rushed to Adam’s bedroom and opened the door as swiftly as she dared without possibly adding to the unknown injury. 

The sight that met her eyes melted her heart, as she took in Adam’s tear-streaked face, his dark lashes clumped together with the moisture from his eyes. His slim body was slumped against the side of his bed, with his knees bent upwards towards his chest. His right finger was still in his mouth, and he looked absolutely miserable as he stared at the blood on his left hand. 

“Oh, baby, what happened?”  Marie asked automatically, without a thought as to whom she was addressing.  Adam looked up, and without answering, held his left hand up so his mother could see the wound.  Marie hurried over to his side, and knelt down to examine his outstretched palm. 

Meeting his mother’s questioning glance, the little boy, with no evidence of his usually mature countenance, removed his finger from his mouth, and said in a pitiful tone, “I hurt my finger, too.  I tried to get the sliver out, but I made it worse.”

“Let me see, sweetheart” Marie said in a soothing tone. She tried not to wince as she looked at the proffered digit and could see that the wound was already red and angry looking.  Ben had now rounded the corner into the room, and was relieved to see that there was a minimum of blood, and no broken bones, though he was a bit surprised at Adam’s demeanor, given such  relatively small injuries.

Without looking up, Marie said calmly, “Ben, there’s a pair of tweezers on my dressing table.  Would you bring them here please, along with my sewing basket from downstairs?” 

“Of course” he replied, as Hoss stuck his mussed head around the corner of the doorway to see what all the commotion was about.  “Hoss go downstairs and bring Mama’s sewing basket here” his father instructed.

Hoss did as he was told and soon Marie had the necessary instruments to extract both the pin and the sliver from her son’s hands.  Adam tried hard to be brave, and held still while Marie used the tweezers to grasp the embedded pinhead and gingerly remove the foreign body from the palm of his hand.  Ben, retrieving a clean towel from the wash basin, knelt next to his wife and pressed the cloth against the weeping wound. Marie rose and moved to Adam’s right side as Ben sent Hoss to retrieve some bandages and salve from Hop Sing.

Marie stared at the other wound suspiciously, knowing that removing it would be quite painful.  Adam’s eyes never left her face as she determined the best way to excise the rest of the splinter, with the least amount of undue hardship on the child. Out of the blue, she remembered what they had done to ease the pain of Hoss’ cut lip the day before. 

The younger child had just returned with the requested bandages, and Marie, still kneeling on the rug, turned slightly towards the chubby little nurse.  “Hoss, go downstairs for mama and get a coffee mug from Hop Sing, please.”  Ben and Hoss exchanged confused glances as she continued.  “Go outside and fill it with soft, clean snow and bring it up here.”

“’Kay, Mama” Hoss said, as he made his third trip down the stairs in as many minutes, happy to be included in the care of his big brother.

Ben smiled in understanding mixed with pride at his young wife’s ingenuity, as he dabbed the salve on the boy’s other hand, wrapped it with the soft muslin bandage and tied it firmly on top of his hand.  Adam, not understanding Marie’s intent as his normally quick mind was dulled by the throbbing in his finger, looked very young as he stuck his finger back in his mouth, and watched as his father finished tying the bandage.

Hoss returned quickly with the cup and handed it cautiously to his mother.  Looking into Adam’s eyes with love and caring, Marie held out her hand so as to guide his injured finger into the cup of snow. Ben had moved to Marie’s side, the lighted oil lamp in his hand; as he knelt down to provide the necessary light for her to work by.  The man watched silently, as his son, his bright hazel eyes never leaving his mother’s deeper green ones, slowly removed his finger from his mouth and placed his hand in hers.

Had anyone else witnessed this silent exchange, the significance of the moment would have been lost on them.  However, in that brief span of time, Ben caught a glimpse of the absolute trust and confidence his son’s eyes showed as he looked at his stepmother.  The only other person, besides Ben himself, that Adam had ever looked at in such a manner, was Inger.  Watching his wife now, as she acted out of pure love and concern for their child, Ben knew that Marie would do everything in her power to keep that hard earned trust.

Holding Adam’s hand gently, Marie carefully pressed the sore digit into the powdery snow, and the boy winced from the icy plunge.  As his finger turned colder and the throbbing lessened, the little boy snuffled loudly while his body relaxed, and he closed his eyes in repose.   Marie quickly searched through the threaded needles in the pincushion of her sewing basket and found the one she felt would do the trick.  Carefully sticking it into the quilt on the bed, she moved the tweezers next to it. 

“All right, sweetheart.  I’ll be as quick and careful as I can be.”  Adam opened his eyes and nodded his head, as his mother lifted his hand from the cup, holding it palm up.  Ben held the oil lamp so as to minimize the shadow and placed it near enough so Marie could plainly see what she was doing.  Hoss, standing next to his father, held his breath as Marie skillfully pressed down on the wound with the side of the needle, moving the skin around with its point, until she finally found the end of the splinter.  She then held the needle in place with her left hand and picked up the metal instrument, in order to excise the splinter.

Adam never moved, but preferred not to look as Marie grasped the jagged edge of the wooden piece with the tweezers and slowly pulled towards her.  The quarter inch long splinter, coated in blood, came out grudgingly, but in one piece.  Squeezing the end of Adam’s finger to encourage a cleansing flow of blood through the now vacant space, Marie glanced up at her patient.  His eyes were much clearer and absent of the pain of a few moments before, and Adam smiled gratefully at his angel of mercy.  Returning his smile, Marie blotted the blood with the towel, and again, without thought as to the implication of the gesture, tenderly kissed his fingertip. 

“There.  Does that feel better now, Adam?” she asked, knowing that it must surely be a relief to have the splinter out. 

“Yes, Ma…Marie.  Thanks a lot” he stammered, as his father tore the remaining muslin into the correct width for this injury.  Marie moved over to make room for Ben, but not before running her hand across the boy’s forehead and ruffling his hair with her fingers, in silent acknowledgement of his unconscious slip of the tongue.

“You’re welcome, mon ami” she responded with a soft smile, as she rose to her feet and put her arm around Hoss’ shoulders. 

“Are ya goin’ be able to help with the tree, Adam?”  Hoss asked anxiously.  Ben looked over his shoulder at this and grinned at the child. 

“If I know your brother, Hoss, he won’t let a little thing like a couple of bandages stop him from decorating that tree, right son?”  He asked, as he finished tying the smaller bandage around the tip of Adam’s finger.  Ben winked at the older boy as he added the last part, knowing that the child would want to make a quick recovery so as to regain his usual invincible status in his little brother’s eyes.

“Right, Pa!” he said with conviction, as he pushed himself up to his knees, and wiped his face with the back of his bandaged left hand.  “Let’s go, Hoss!”  The two boys quickly exited the room and headed towards the stairway. 

“DON’T RUN!” came the usual command from their father as Marie shook her head and mouthed the words, “Sorry, Pa,” just as they were spoken by the two children.  As Marie started to clean off the rest of the bed, Ben came up beside her and turned her by the shoulders to face him.

As he started to speak, Marie placed her index finger on his lips. 

“Don’t thank me, darling.  It’s all a part of being a mother” she said softly.  “The look in his eyes was thanks enough.”

Ben nodded as the moment was interrupted by two young voices. 

“I wanna put the first one on!”

“But I wanna put the angel on first, ‘cause I made it!”

With a shared grin, the two parents quickly left the room, though they knew the memory of what happened there that afternoon would remain with them forever.

Chapter 12

The tree, as it was patiently draped in all its finery, was a sight to behold.  It was a mixture of so many things old and new, and yet, it seemed to all blend into a whole that only served to enhance each individual item. 

Ben smiled, remembering Inger’s careful attention to detail while he hung the dala horses on the tree. Glancing in Adam’s direction, he watched the boy suspended a crocheted ornament from a lower limb; thinking back, he could see her again in the old rocking chair, her hands effortlessly crafting each bright snowflake, as he would relay another nautical tale to that selfsame dark-haired child.  Lifting Hoss up to place his own colorful paper chains on the pine next to his mama’s handiwork served to bridge the gap between the past and the present in a way that Ben thought was most fitting.

And, of course, the angel who graced the top of the tree was a comforting reminder that Inger would always be with them, watching from on high.  Adam’s tentative expression when he showed his creation to his father was quickly replaced by a relieved smile as Ben praised his accomplishment.  Working together from the top of the stairway, father and son had attached the “guardian angel” to the uppermost reaches of the pine, with her halo just clearing the ceiling.

Marie grinned as the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, admiring their joint effort.  Handing her husband two large pomegranates wrapped in ribbon, she indicated where she thought they should go.  Ben, with the hefty fruit ornaments in each hand, said nothing aloud, though the slight frown and the familiar raised black eyebrow in evidence as he glanced in his wife’s direction, telegraphed exactly what he was thinking.  Hoping to avoid a lecture in front of the children on the virtues of budgeting, Marie decided to gain their support instead and tip the scales in her favor. 

“Aren’t these just the most interesting things?”  She said to her eldest, as she looped the ribbon from another one around her index finger and held it so he could see.  Adam, not quite sure what his response should be, merely shrugged his shoulders and said, in an agreeable tone, “Yes, Marie.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before, except in that picture over there in the dining room.”

“What’s they supposed ta be, Mama?” Hoss asked, wrinkling his nose as he stared at the oddly shaped fruit. 

“Well, darling, they’re called pomegranates.  They aren’t the prettiest things on the outside, but, oh! On the inside are the most wonderful little seeds that make the best jelly you ever tasted.”  Marie said, glancing up devilishly at Ben as she did so. 

“Mmm!  I like jelly, don’t you, Papa?”  Hoss asked his father, innocently.  “Ain’t it nice that Mama gots these so she could make us some?” 

Ben (knowing when he was outmaneuvered) nodded to his little boy and replied, “Yes, son. We sure are lucky that Mama got so many of these so she could make us some jelly.”  Marie blushed, not from the compliment, but from his emphasis on the number of high priced pomegranates she had purchased.  Giving him a coy smile in response, she again indicated where Ben should hang the decorations he held in his hands, his bemused countenance relieving her slightly guilty conscience.

The gingerbread men added a whimsical touch as each child carefully placed his own creations on the branches.  As Hoss hung his last one on the tree, he suddenly remembered the one he had made that was too special for mere display.  The little boy took off like a shot for the kitchen, as his parents and older brother exchanged confused looks.

“What in the world?”  Ben asked aloud, as they could hear Hoss’ high pitched voice excitedly asking Hop Sing for something.  Marie and Adam looked expectantly towards the kitchen, as the child reappeared as quickly as he had left. This time, however, he walked very slowly towards his father, holding a small plate in his two pudgy hands.

“I’s made this for you, Papa,  just like I promised ya!”  He said happily, as he handed the dish to Ben. Having seen the other examples of his son’s workmanship already on the tree, it was obvious that the child had taken great pains to assure that this one was the grandest of all.  Ben got down on one knee, as he took the proffered plate from the child. 

“Hoss, this is the best-dressed gingerbread man I ever saw! You made this all by yourself?” he asked, as he gazed into the azure eyes of his youngest.

The little boy nodded his head vigorously and the accompanying grin was evidence of his delight at his father’s praise.  “They’s taste really good too, Papa!  Adam and Mama and me ate the rest of ‘em, but I wanted ta make sure you gots one of your very own!” 

“Thank you, son. That was a very kind thing for you to do.”  Ben set the plate down on the low table, as he drew Hoss into a hug.

“You’s welcome, Papa – I’s could help ya eat it, iff’n it’s too big for ya” he added hopefully, as he pulled back from his father’s embrace.  Ben, laughing, reached over and ruffled the fine hair on the tawny blond head, then broke the cookie in two pieces. 

He then whispered conspiratorially, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Do you think we should share it with Mama and Adam too?”  The child whispered back, in an even louder voice, “Yeah, ‘cause it is Chrismas, ya know!”  Ben broke the halves into two and handed a piece to each of the others, as they all made a fuss over the young baker.

Once all the ornaments, popcorn strings, and paper chains had been placed just so, the family stepped back to admire their joint effort. 

“That is one fine looking Christmas tree!”  Ben said affably as Adam and Hoss voiced their agreement.  Marie, however, looked more than a bit preoccupied, as she placed her finger on her chin, wracking her brain for the missing item that she knew she had purchased for the occasion.

“That’s it!” she said definitively, as she snapped her fingers.  Hurrying over to the credenza, she rummaged around in the drawer until she found what she was looking for.  Hoss looked at Adam, who shrugged his shoulders in reply to the silent question and they both turned to their father, who looked equally perplexed.  Turning back towards them, with a long flat box in her hands, Marie pushed the drawer closed with her hip, and smiling broadly, she moved to the low table and placed her discovery there. 

Removing the lid with a flourish, she reached into the box and retrieved three of the small candleholders.  Handing one to each male, she said, “I almost forgot about these. They’ll be the perfect finishing touch!” 

Adam turned his over in his hands, fascinated as always with anything the least bit mechanical, and snapped the spring loaded clasp with his fingers.  Hoss took his and attached it to his shirt pocket making believe it was a sheriff’s badge.  Ben, however, looked aghast at his wife, as he immediately recognized the item for what it was.

“Darling, surely you don’t intend to put candles on the tree?”  He asked in alarm, as he spied the small white tapers still inside the paper box.  “It’s one thing to bring a tree into the house, but it’s quite another to set it on fire!”

The young woman looked a bit taken aback by this response. 

“But dear!  Mr. Cass said they were specially made for using on a tree and the candles are made short enough so their flame won’t burn the branches above” she said, with a pleading look.  “See, it says here right on the box” she continued, pointing to the advertisement.

Taking a closer look at the instructions on the end of the box, Ben pointed out another section, printed in large red letters.

“Caution!”  He said, reading aloud in a dramatic voice that accentuated the word.  “Use extreme care when lighting candles.  Have a pail of water close at hand at all times.  Do not leave unattended or burn candles longer than two minutes at a time.” 

“Now, Ben” said Marie, her voice rising a bit in exasperation. “You know Will Cass wouldn’t sell anything that wasn’t safe!”

“Marie, I’m sure Will wouldn’t do so knowingly, but I just don’t see how these things could be used safely.” 

Adam and Hoss looked from one parent to the other, as the two adults continued their debate over the virtues of a lighted versus an unlighted tree. 

Finally, wanting to maintain the previously pleasant atmosphere and seeing that his wife was becoming unduly agitated over the whole thing, Ben reluctantly gave in.  Heading out to the kitchen himself to draw a full pail of water and retrieve the ladle from its hook by the iron sink, he left the children to help their mother insert the candles into the holders and place them on the tree.

Ben came back into the room, walking slowly so as not to spill the contents of the almost overflowing bucket onto the wood plank floor, and noticed that Marie and Adam were busily attaching the candleholders to the tree.  Hoss, however, had retreated to the far end of the settee and had his hands clasped tightly behind him, as he solemnly watched the rest of the family from a distance.

Puzzled, Ben set the bucket and the ladle carefully on the hearth, and turned to look in his younger child’s direction. 

“Hoss, don’t you want to help put the holders on the tree?”  Ben asked in a gentle voice.

“No, sir” Hoss replied quietly, as he glanced down towards the floor, and then slowly lifted his eyes to meet his father’s in an anxious sort of way.  Something in the child’s demeanor stirred the man’s memory, and he was immediately transported to another day, earlier that year, that Ben (or obviously, Hoss, for that matter) would never forget….

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

It was August, the day after Hoss’ fifth birthday.  Given that the new school term would begin in the not too distant future, Marie, in another attempt to bond with her elder stepson, had offered to accompany the boy to town to shop for his school supplies and buy him a new pair of boots.  Hop Sing would go along to drive the buckboard, and pick up the family’s monthly grocery order at the mercantile.

To give mother and son some time together, Ben had agreed to stay home with Hoss, and as a surprise, had planned to take the little boy fishing that afternoon with the brand new pole that Ben himself had made as a birthday gift.

After seeing his wife, the cook and his somewhat petulant older son off with a wave (and a look that Adam knew meant dire consequences for his backside if he did not behave himself), Ben turned back towards the house, whistling as he opened the door to the foyer. 

Hoss was not in the great room so, suspecting that the child was sneaking one more cookie after dinner from Hop Sing’s now unguarded cookie jar; Ben quietly slipped around the corner of the dining room and moved towards the entrance to the kitchen. As he predicted, the child was standing in the center of the kitchen, but it was not a cookie that he was holding in his hand. 

Ben’s heart leapt to his mouth, as he watched his little son draw the wooden match head against the iron stove.  The unmistakable smell of sulphur assailed his nostrils, as the child held up the burning match and blew it out, just as he had the day before, when he made quick work of the five small lighted candles on his birthday cake.

Knowing that his plans for a pleasant afternoon with his little boy were now dashed, Ben spoke in a tone that was quiet, but filled with foreboding. 

“Eric” he said, stretching the name out letter by letter, “What are you doing?” 

Hoss wheeled around quickly at the sound of his given name, the matchstick now held behind him.  Looking exceedingly guilty, but hoping to convince the man otherwise, he answered, in an overly bright voice, “Nuttin’ Papa.”  The wisps that curled above his head from the spent match were like an Indian smoke signal, emphasizing his attempt at deceit to his angry father.

“What do you have behind your back, son?”  Ben asked in the same controlled manner as before, though it took everything he had to keep from shouting.

Knowing now that he had been caught not only playing with the forbidden matches, but in a lie as well, Hoss dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to meet the almost ebony orbs that felt as if they were burning a hole right through him.  Ben took two steps forward and held out his hand.  Without comment, the child placed the match in the outstretched palm, and slowly raised his head, shame written all over his pale countenance.

“Go into the living room.  I’ll be there in a moment” Ben said.  Hoss scooted by him and headed for the other room, turning his body so his bottom was well out of his father’s long reach.

The man rubbed his eyes with his hand as he stood silently in the center of the room, the still warm match cooling in his palm. Sighing deeply, he disposed of the burned matchstick as he looked around for its unused mates. The rest of the matches were where they should have been, in a box placed on the top of the stove and pushed back towards the wall.  He sadly noted that one of the kitchen chairs had been moved next to the oven, and had obviously been used to surmount the obstacle and gain the prohibited item.

Taking the box and moving it to the top shelf of the cupboard, Ben stopped for a moment to compose himself before going in to talk to his child. 

‘He will be punished for what he’s done, but more importantly, I must make sure he understands why he must never do this again!’ 

This was a dilemma that Ben always faced when having to discipline his children.   He felt that mere punishment, without stating the reason why the child was being punished, served no good purpose, other than to cause fear and resentment of the one inflicting the penalty.  Yet, it was so difficult at times, to explain the rationale to them in a manner they could understand and take to heart.  So, as his father did before him, he combined the two methods and delivered them both with a firm, but loving approach. 

Squaring his shoulders, his face reflecting his displeasure with his child’s behavior, Ben strode into the living room.  Hoss stood disconsolately by the empty fireplace, his head drooping and his normally happy face the epitome of despair.  Upon hearing his father’s staccato footsteps on the wooden floor, he felt his tummy do a ‘flip flop’ and his blue eyes began to fill with the first of many tears he would shed that day.

Ben walked to his accustomed place by the stone mantelpiece and, ignoring the child for the moment, collected two sheets of old newspaper and some small pieces of kindling from the wood box on the hearth.  Given the unrelenting heat of late summer, the fireplace was not in use, which would serve Ben well in relaying his lesson to the little boy. He set the items down in front of the oversize opening.  Hoss never raised his head during all of this, but watched his father from the tops of his eyes, feeling curious and anxious at the same time.

The man perched on the edge of the red leather easy chair and, grasping his young son gently but firmly by the shoulders, turned the boy around to face him.  Steeling himself against the tender emotion that was rising in him as he saw the child’s woebegone expression, Ben placed his finger under the wobbly little chin and brought Hoss’ face up until the boy was forced to look into his father’s eyes.

“Now, young man” he began, his voice still modulated but commanding in the silence that otherwise permeated the room.  “I know that your mother and I have warned you many times about the dangers of playing with fire, isn’t that right?” 

Hoss nodded his head a bit, with a very soft, “Yes, sir,” in response to his father’s question, though he never took his eyes from Ben’s face. 

“But,” Ben continued, “from what I have just seen in the kitchen, you chose to ignore our warnings and try to find out for yourself whether or not we were telling you the truth.”

The little boy looked a bit puzzled at this statement, as he had never thought about his actions in that way. “Gosh no, Pa.  I knows you and Mama always tell me the truth ‘bout everything.” 

“Well, if that’s the case, why did you light the match, son?” 

“I don’t know, Papa.  I guess I’s just wanted ta blow it out like the candles on my cake yesterday.”

“Oh” said his father simply, as his child unwittingly led the way into his intended lecture.  Reaching into his vest pocket, Ben pulled out three matches and set them on the smoking table to the right of his chair.  Taking the first one, he struck it against the rough stones of the mantelpiece and held the bright flame so his son could see it plainly. 

“I want you to blow this one out, like the ones on your cake.”  Smiling, the little boy puckered his lips and blew out the light with one quick puff.  The resulting smoke rose and dissipated in the bright sunlight that filtered into the room.

“All right” Ben said simply, as he tossed the spent match into the fireplace.  He reached down and took one sheet of the newspaper, crumpling it tightly to resemble a kind of torch, which he then held at one end.  Once again, he said to the boy, “Now, I want you to blow this out.” 

Hoss watched carefully as Ben lit the second match and started the paper afire by touching the flame to the top of it.  He shook the match’s flame out; watching as the child’s eyes went from placid to panicked as he blew as quickly as he could to try to prevent the paper from burning completely.  Remarkably, Hoss was able to extinguish it before the fire reached Ben’s fist, and the man calmly tossed the remnants into the grate.

Noting the perspiration that now stood out on the boy’s forehead, Ben stood and moved towards the open hearth.  He placed the kindling on the front of the iron stanchions that normally held the massive logs used to heat the room. Hoping to bring the demonstration to a dramatic and memorable close, Ben said in the same steady voice as before, “I’m going to light the paper again, but this time, I want you to blow out the fire as soon as the kindling catches.”

Crumpling the remaining paper in a similar manner as before, he pushed it beneath the wood and held the final lighted match to it.  The flame, with an additional fuel source to feed it, burned speedily through the paper and caught almost immediately on the tinder dry scraps of wood above it.  The child, kneeling on the floor before the hearth, blew upon the fire until he was dizzy from the exertion and lack of oxygen.  The fire, enhanced by his frantic attempts at extinguishing it, burned even more brightly. 

Hoss turned to his father in agitation, his brow furrowed with anxiety at not being able to bring the fire under control.  “I’s can’t do it, Papa!”  He exclaimed.  “It don’t stop, no matter how hard I try ta blow it out!”

“That’s right, Eric.  Once a fire is started, it’s very difficult to keep it under control. Do you remember when we had the lightening during the thunderstorm earlier this summer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lightening can be like a big match. It caught the trees on fire, just like the match here in the fireplace caught the kindling on fire.”  Ben could see the connection being made in his son’s mind between the two events, and he pressed on to assure that his ultimate point was made.

“What is kindling made out of, son?”

“That’s easy, Pa.  Wood.”

“And what are logs made out of?”

“Wood.”

“What are the pine trees made out of?”

“Wood, Papa.  They’s all made a’ wood” the child answered confidently.

Ben paused just a moment before he posed his final question.

“And what is this house made out of, Eric?”

The child formed the answer on his lips and before he could utter the word, the point of his father’s illustration became crystal clear in his young mind.  A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and made a wet trail as it traveled down his face.

In a choked voice, he stammered, “But, Pa, I didn’t wanna burn our house! I just wanted to blow out the match!” 

“I know that son, but as you can see, once a fire is started, it isn’t easy to put out” Ben repeated, as he looked intently into the bottomless depths of his son’s sapphire eyes.

“And wood isn’t the only thing that burns when it’s set on fire.  Everything in this house - your brother’s books, Mama’s dresses, my desk, your toys - all of it would look like the kindling does now” he said gloomily, as he pointed towards the charred remains of the small fire now dying before them.  Hoss followed his father’s finger and could suddenly imagine all of those precious items gone forever.

“Even Brownie?”

“Yes, Eric, even Brownie.”  Ben paused for just a moment, to let the message sink in, as he prepared to impart the most important part of the lesson.

“And, son, the people in the house would burn, too.” 

At this pronouncement, the child’s eyes overflowed with repentant tears as the reality of what could have happened just a few minutes earlier hit home.  Throwing himself into Ben’s waiting arms, the little boy sobbed out another, even more heartfelt, apology. Although his task was far from over, Ben took some reassurance from the boy’s apparently penitent behavior.  Patting his back gently for a moment, Ben reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and directed the child to blow his nose.  Once Hoss had composed himself a bit, Ben completed the lecture.

“Now you understand why it is so important for you to do as you’re told, young man” his father stated pointedly.

Hoss nodded his agreement, and bit his bottom lip as he waited for his father to comment on his other transgression.  He did not have long to wait.

“There is one other thing that is just as wrong as disobeying, and in my mind, even more so.  Do you know what that is, Eric?” 

The child swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and shifted nervously from one foot to the other.  Now intensely interested in the pattern of the rug under the low table, he muttered a very quiet, ‘Uh huh,’ in answer to his parent’s question.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Eric.” 

Wiping his sweaty palms on the sides of his indigo blue cotton overalls, the little boy lifted his head and met the man’s dark eyes once again, feeling a shiver of foreboding run through him.  Ben repeated the question.

“What is that other thing?”

“Lyin’ when you get caught doin’ somethin’ bad” Hoss answered in a resigned tone.

“Lying is wrong any time, son, but especially when you’ve already done something that you know you shouldn’t have.  It doesn’t make the disobedience go away, and it gets you into even more trouble than if you’d owned up to your mistake in the first place.”  Hoss nodded slowly and miserably, his lower lip jutting out over his chin.

Hoping that he had made his point, but realizing that he would also need to make the punishment fit the crime, Ben rose slowly from his chair. Towering over the unhappy child, he gestured towards the staircase.

“Go to your room and put your nightshirt on.  We’ll finish our talk up there.”

Knowing full well what that meant, the little boy, hanging his head and looking like a condemned man, dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom.

Giving the child just a few moments to comply with his order, Ben then headed up the stairs.  As he entered the open door of the bedroom, his solemn mien was temporarily lifted by the sight before him.  There was his little boy, naked as the day he was born, stepping half-heartedly out of the overalls that were lying in a heap around his bare feet. Trying to recover his comportment, but failing miserably, Ben, with his arms akimbo, asked in an amused voice, “Son, where are your drawers?”

Hoss gave him a hang dog look, and replied, “I’s didn’t have any clean…”  Ben’s stern look immediately resurfaced, as the child stopped mid-sentence and wisely gave his father the real reason, “I mean…it was jus’ too hot, Papa.”

“That’s no excuse.  You are to wear them, no matter what the weather.  Is that understood?” 

“Yessir.” 

Reaching under his pillow, Hoss retrieved his nightshirt and slipped it over his head and arms. He never wore drawers to bed, but if given the choice at that moment, Hoss would have donned every pair he owned to help deflect the pain he knew was coming. Ben moved to sit on the edge of the boy’s bed, as a fresh torrent of tears trickled down Hoss’ pudgy little face.

“I’s really sorry, Papa.  I promise never ta do it again” he whined, in a last ditch attempt to change his pa’s mind about his punishment.

“I’m sorry too, son, and I hope, for all our sakes, that you mean what you say.  But you must be punished for what you’ve done, so let’s get this over with.”

With that, Ben lifted his son under the arms and laid him face down across his lap.  Holding the child steady with his left hand around his middle, he brought his right hand back, and then administered ten firm, yet age appropriate, smacks to his child’s bottom for the worst tanning Hoss had ever received in his five years of life.

Setting him back on his feet, Ben’s heart constricted as he watched his little boy dig his chubby left fist into his streaming eye, while he rubbed his now painful backside with his other hand.

“Ow!”  He cried piteously, the tears coming even harder now as he gulped for air between his sobs.

A typical father would have put the youngster to bed and let him cry himself to sleep.  Ben Cartwright, however, had been both mother and father to his children for too long to be able to walk away in a similar manner. 

His eyes fell upon the old rocking chair pushed into the far corner of the room, whose gentle rhythm had quieted many a tear.  Ben carefully guided the sobbing child by the shoulder until they stood before it. 

Pulling the chair out from the wall, Ben sat down and once again lifted Hoss under the arms.  This time, though, he faced the child towards him and had him kneel on his lap.  Grasping him gently about the backs of his legs, (so as not to further aggravate his tender bottom) he guided the blond head to his shoulder and started rocking the chair back and forth, murmuring words of comfort while he patted the heaving back. 

“There, there, little one.  It’s all over now.”  The child continued to cry copiously, though his father rightly suspected that the tears were more the result of the pain from Hoss’ guilty conscience rather than from his sore behind.  He felt the little body slowly relax against him as the sobs turned to hiccups.

They sat this way for awhile, until Ben, thinking the child had fallen asleep in his arms, started to move forward on the seat so as to put him to bed. As he felt his pa’s body move to stand, Hoss pulled back from his father’s shoulder. Ben slid back onto the seat again, as he took in the splotchy face, red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks of his baby.  Hoss, however, was greeted with a familiar visage full of forgiveness and an obviously deep love for him.

Hoss’ sky blue eyes begged for absolution even before he spoke. “Papa, I’s sorry for being a bad boy and I promise I ain’t never gonna do it again.”  He looked so serious and so sincere that Ben had every reason to believe he had learned his lesson.

“Hoss, you aren’t a bad boy. You may sometimes do bad things, but you could never be bad. Papa knows you’re sorry, and you are forgiven for what you did.”  Ben reveled in the wet kiss that was planted on his cheek and the chubby arms that encircled his neck in thanks.

“But…” The child drew back his head as he stared into his father’s warm brown eyes and waited. “The only way you can keep your promise is to never, ever play with matches or fire again.”  Ben nodded his head firmly as he said this, and Hoss mimicked the gesture, his fine blond hair falling forward as he did so. 

“I’s promise, papa.”

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Ben was brought back from his brief reverie as those same intense blue eyes confirmed the reason behind Hoss’ suddenly reticent behavior. 

Walking towards the anxious child, Ben knelt down to his son’s level and opened his arms. 

“Come here, good boy and get a hug from your Papa.” 

With a smile that no Christmas candle could ever outshine, Hoss flew to his father’s arms and Ben hugged his baby to him.  Rising easily with the little boy in his grasp, Ben moved forward and the two of them watched as Adam, with close supervision by Marie, lit the diminutive candles on the majestic pine.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

The chores were finished as the light of day began to fade. The sky had continued to darken ominously throughout the day with the temperature dropping in tandem.  Knowing that, come nightfall, the barn and its inhabitants would be difficult, if not impossible, to find given the impending snowfall, Ben tied a guide rope to the hitching rail nearest the corner of the house.  Since no one would be entering or leaving the yard by horseback anytime soon, he pulled the rope somewhat taut, and walked across the yard to loop the other end about the heavy iron ring that he had attached to the door of the barn just for this purpose.  Lifting the collar of his jacket about his ears, he entered the relative warmth of the barn to check on the boys’ progress in completing their everyday jobs. 

Adam, perched on the three legged stool, was expertly collecting the second of the animal’s daily offering of milk, his cheek pressed against the coarse hair on the cow’s flank, and the bandages from his earlier injuries long since discarded.  Ben smiled as he watched, remembering his little boy’s stubborn determination to take on the chore, even when the length of his arms was barely sufficient to reach the cow’s udder. 

“Make sure you get it all, son. From the looks of that sky, it will take us some extra time to plough our way across the yard in the morning.  No use having her all worked up on Christmas Day” Ben said.

“I will, Pa.  Daisy won’t go back into her stall for me, otherwise” replied the boy, with a grin, and a loving pat to the animal’s side. 

The gentle scraping of an iron rake on the earthen floor drew the man’s attention to the other side of the barn. His younger son was making a valiant attempt to muck out the stalls, although the implement he was using was twice as tall as he was. With an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth, Ben moved over and grasped the top of the rake in his hands.

“Thank you for getting started on my chores, son” he said kindly, as the child turned and looked up at his father.

“I’s big enough to do it all by myself now, Papa,” the youngster said confidently in an obvious attempt to show his father what a big boy he was also getting to be. The child’s designated assignment was to spread the fresh straw in the stalls once his father had removed the soiled bedding material.  Hoss held the rake even more tightly than before, his face reflecting his eagerness to be of help.

“I can see that, Hoss.” Ben nodded seriously, belying the amusement he felt.  “But I think if you let me do the raking and you put the fresh straw down for the stock, we can get it done more quickly.”

As the little face fell at this statement, Ben added, “I think Mama had said something about some candy she was making, and how she would need a taste tester as soon as the chores were finished.”  He looked up musingly as he said this, yet was well aware of the abrupt change in his son’s demeanor at the comment.

Immediately releasing his grip on the wooden handle, Hoss scurried to the pile of clean straw and gathered a large armful.  Turning towards his father, he said in an impatient, though respectful, tone “C’mon Papa!  We cain’t keep Mama waiting!”

“Yes, sir!” Ben said with a smile and a salute, as he picked up the discarded rake and turned back to the stalls. 

Within minutes, the three “men” were on their way into the house with Ben carrying the almost full pail of milk.  Hoss turned a worried eye on the still smiling snowman as they approached the porch. 

“D’ya think he’s gonna be okay with all the snow comin’, Adam?”  He asked as he stopped in the middle of the yard, knowing his big brother would give him an honest answer.

"Sure, Hoss,” the older boy replied confidentially.  “We built him to last and a little bit of snow ain’t going to bother him.”  Ben looked over at his eldest, eyebrows raised at his unusual choice of words, as Adam’s hazel eyes twinkled at the anticipated rise he got out of his father.

“How many days has it been since you were in school?” Ben said in a slightly stern tone.  “I believe the word is ‘isn’t’, not ‘ain’t’.” 

Seeing the dimpled grin on his son’s face, Ben reached over and tousled the wavy black hair, since he had purposely played right into the youngster’s hands.  Hoss grinned too, as he enjoyed not being the only one who was corrected for his grammar.

“All right, you two,” Ben said laughing.  With a mischievous  look in his own brown eyes, he said daringly, “Last one to the house is a tenderfoot!” and made to run the rest of the way to the house, though that was impossible given the sloshing pail in his hand. 

Both children, however, took off like a shot. Laughing for the sheer pleasure of it, he followed them into the house as they burst in, shouting “Pa’s a tenderfoot!”

At the sound of all the commotion, Marie came around the corner of the dining room. With her hands on her hips she took in the sight of her three “boys” apple cheeked and grinning, the younger two starting to remove their coats, with the wet snow already falling from their boots.  The oldest one held a pail of milk in his hand, suddenly realizing he should have delivered it to its rightful place before coming in.

Grinning broadly, she said in mock admonishment, “Out you go before you get snow all over the house!  Go back out to the kitchen door and come in that way!”  As she shooed them with her apron, the three males knew better than to argue and beat a hasty retreat to the other entrance to remove their wet shoes.

She returned to the kitchen, where her real reason for wanting them to enter there first was evident.  The little table was set for a special Christmas Eve snack with cups of hot cocoa for the children, and a fresh pot of coffee for the adults, accompanied by just a few of the cooled pralines, and thin slices of fruitcake. 

Ben herded his sons through the door, bringing up the rear with the milk pail that he happily handed to Hop Sing. 

“Oh, boy!  Thanks, Mama!”  Hoss said, as he moved towards the array of edible delights.  Adam, too, smiled his thanks and made to cross the room to the table.  Marie moved in front of them, as she indicated the basin of warm water, bar of soap and clean towel moved temporarily to the top of the wooden chopping block in the center of the kitchen. 

“Wash your hands, first, and then you may eat” she stated as the boys, eyeing the bounty hungrily, resigned themselves to the task at hand. Ben was already first in line, not so much in eagerness for the food, but preferring to make himself presentable for the hostess.

“Isn’t it a bit late in the day for all this?”  Ben asked Marie quietly as the boys took their turn at the basin.  “I thought we’d just share a piece of candy and save the rest until after supper.”  She responded in an equally subdued manner, “Hop Sing is preparing quite a feast, and I know supper will be a bit delayed.”  Dropping her eyes, she whispered suggestively, “And, in that way, we can put the boys to bed later than usual, and be able to enjoy a few more minutes of ‘sleep’ in the morning.” 

Catching the emphasis on the word “sleep” (and knowing his wife’s desire had nothing whatever to do with rest) the man slipped his arm about her waist, as he watched their sons descend upon the afternoon’s fare.  He noted as he did so how she seemed a bit more ample about the middle than was usually the case. Wisely keeping his opinions to himself, Ben reflected back on their intimate encounter earlier that day, and recalled the slightly more rounded appearance of her hips and the gentle pout of her belly when she had undressed in front of him.  Her breasts had appeared fuller too. 

Given these fairly obvious clues to his wife’s undisclosed condition, Ben failed to draw the proper conclusion, and smiled down on her as she met his eyes joyfully.  “Now that she and Adam have mended their fences, her appetite has certainly improved,” he wrongly surmised, and the family settled down to enjoy the sweet repast.

Once the snack was consumed, and heartfelt appreciation was bestowed upon the chef (especially by the group’s youngest member), Ben made a proclamation.

“Before we have supper, I want the two of you to have a good long soak in the tub.”  He said, looking at each child in turn. 

“Aw, Pa, we’s not that dirty!” came the response from the one with the sticky hands and face.

“Yeah, Pa, we just had a bath on Saturday!” chimed the other, oblivious to that distinctive “little boy” aroma clinging to his person.

Clearing his throat in that certain way his boys knew so well, Ben rose from his chair.  “I don’t recall asking either one of you for your opinion, so I suggest you both go upstairs and get into your robes and slippers.  I’ll go light the fire in the washhouse, and the water should be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”  Both boys rose halfheartedly from their places, and with dejected expressions, slowly started for their rooms. 

Not satisfied with their speed, and hoping to impart a little fun into this much despised chore, he added, “If you hurry, I’ll read to you while you wash.  Now, scoot!”  He said and clapped his hands together.  The boys hurried from the room, though careful to maintain an acceptable speed while in the house.

Marie grinned at her husband’s obvious bribe.  “I’ll stay here and help Hop Sing with the rest of the preparations” she said, knowing that supervising the boys at bath time was his appointed task.  “I’d like to take a quick one too when they’re finished.”  Ben gave her a nod and a resigned smile in return as he exited the kitchen to the adjacent room to prepare for the onslaught.

Soon, both children were sharing the watertight, wooden tub, doing more splashing than washing, as they fought over who would use the soap first. 

“I’m not as dirty as you are!  You go first!”

“You’s always sayin’ how the oldest should go first, so you go ahead!”

“No, you!”

“Not me!”

“Boys” came the agitated voice of their father, “that’s enough!  Hoss, give me the soap.” 

Ben took the proffered bar of Castile soap and applied it to each of two clean wet washrags. Handing one to each of the children, he pointed a finger, first under the slightly upturned nose of the older, and then the lightly freckled, more broadly formed one of the younger. “Now I want more washing and less dawdling!  Is that clear, gentleman?”

“Yes, sir, Pa.” was the chorused reply, as each little boy concentrated on washing his face and ears, and working his way down from there. 

Satisfied that there would be no more argument, Ben sat down on an old, cane backed chair, and began to read aloud from the book that had been started earlier that week.  In a menacing voice, he quietly intoned, “Chapter Four:  The Last of the Spirits. ‘The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it came, Scrooge bent down upon his knee…’”

Within a short span of time, two spanking clean little Cartwrights, wrapped tightly in their robes, were padding into the warmth of the kitchen.  Marie smiled as she thought how angelic they both looked: Hoss, his flyaway blond hair combed straight back, with an unintentional part falling down the middle, and Adam, running his fingers through the jet black curls which , instead of laying down as he intended,  were even more pronounced as they relaxed into their natural waves and tumbled across his forehead.

“Marie, Pa said to tell you that he’ll have the tub ready for you in a few minutes.”  Adam stated, as he and his sibling moved through the pantry, with Hoss snagging another praline before his mother could stop him.

“Thank you, mon ami. Supper will be ready in about an hour, so go upstairs, get dressed and you can play until then.” 

Ben came in a few minutes later, eyeing not only the food, but the other delicious creation that, at the moment, was busy peeling potatoes. 

“Darling” he said softly, not wishing to startle her.  “I have your bathwater ready, so you should come now before it cools.  I’ll go upstairs and get your things.” 

“Thank you, mon chéri.  Hop Sing, should I put the potatoes on to boil?” 

“Yes, missy.  Supper be reddy by time you and Mista Cartlight clean up.”  Marie blushed slightly, thinking how nice it would be if she and Ben could enjoy a bath together, although the old tub was just big enough to hold one adult in some semblance of comfort.  This was one thing she so missed from her days in New Orleans, a real copper tub where she could stretch out and enjoy the calming effects of the warm water on her skin. 

‘Ah well. If wishes were horses, than beggars would ride’ she thought to herself as she exited through the short hallway to the washhouse door.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Supper, by normal Cartwright standards, promised to be a sumptuous affair.  The dining room table, normally covered with a homey red checkered cloth, was adorned with an ivory, tatted lace cover, which usually made an appearance only if guests were expected.  The centerpiece was a mixture of pine boughs, pinecones, festive red ribbons, and candles in two elaborate silver candlestick holders that Marie had discovered at the back of the sideboard.  They had been badly tarnished, and had obviously not been used for a number of years. 

She had set them out in the kitchen the previous evening, fully intending to polish them herself the next day.  Hop Sing, however, had assumed that duty, and she had returned from the morning’s activities to find them in pristine condition.  Marie recognized quality and fine craftsmanship when she saw it and therefore was not surprised when she found the silversmith’s mark on the bottom of the set:  Revere & Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

Ben descended the staircase, trailing his two sons; all dressed in their Sunday best for this most special of holiday occasions.  Marie, lighting the heretofore unused beeswax candles, was wearing her green brocade, which fortunately had a matching shawl she could use to hide the unfastened buttons at the back where the garment spanned her now too large waist. She turned to watch the other family members enter, and smiled as she noted Hoss had on his brand new brown pants which seemed to fit him quite nicely.  Adam’s navy blue trousers were now of adequate length given his height and both boys wore the matching cream colored shirts she had made for them earlier in the year.  Ben, the natural wave in his salt and pepper hair tamed by a vigorous brushing, was exceedingly handsome in his dark trousers, tie, and jacket, with the silver and sapphire vest that Marie always found so attractive.

As Ben approached the table, he noticed the highly polished candleholders and the heirloom table cloth that his wife had inadvertently chosen to decorate the table.  Not wanting to put a damper on this special evening, he did not mention the fact that the candlesticks and the table cover had been wedding gifts to Liz and him, left with and eventually sent by Captain Stoddard once he and the boys were settled in their new home on the Ponderosa. Their appearance, however, brought back happy memories and it seemed fitting that Liz was represented in the festivities just as Inger had been in the decorating of the tree.

The boys stood by their places at the table, knowing they were expected to wait until their mother had been seated, before being seated themselves.  Ben, seizing the opportunity to demonstrate proper etiquette to his children, pulled Marie’s chair back, and she gracefully glided onto the upholstered seat as he gently pushed it forward.  Nodding to the children, the boys silently moved onto their chairs and Ben, before taking his place at the head of the table, moved behind Hoss’ chair and slid him in closer, as the child’s short legs would not allow him to do so himself.

The family, as was their custom, bowed their heads as Ben gave the blessing. 

“Heavenly Father, thank you for this day and the many blessings You have bestowed upon us.  Thank You for the loved ones who are gathered at this bountiful table, and those who now reside with You. Keep them always in our hearts and minds, O Lord, until we are once again reunited in Your heavenly kingdom.” 

“Thank You also for the precious gift of Your son, Jesus Christ, who was born this night so many years ago in Bethlehem.  Make us ever mindful of his teachings, so we may be deserving of Your grace and abiding love.  In Your name we pray, Amen.”

The children softly responded with “Amen” and Marie made the sign of the cross over herself and was suddenly reminded of her missing rosary. 

As she slowly lifted her eyes to take in her husband and her two children, she realized that, even though her rosary was gone, her prayers had been answered.  Looking to each of the loving faces before her, she reminded herself ‘I have been given the greatest gift that anyone could receive, the gift of family.’

Blinking back involuntary tears that shimmered in the flickering candlelight, Marie gave a tremulous smile, and was silently comforted by the movement of the precious gift within her.   Ben gently placed his hand over his wife’s in a gesture of understanding, as their eyes communicated the depth of their shared feelings. 

Hoss, anxious to begin this long anticipated meal, grasped his soup spoon in his chubby fist.  With his napkin tucked under his chin, he bounced up and down impatiently as he watched Marie, waiting for her to begin so that he could tuck into his meal, too.

“Mama?”  He said in an obviously distressed voice.  “Ain…aren’t you gonna eat your soup?”  Noting that he had used the correct word in its proper context, Marie gave him a wink and glided the heavy silver spoon away from her and across the surface of the steaming bowl.  Hoss, with an attempt at a wink (though both his eyes blinked shut), submerged his spoon into the rich chowder before him.

With a nod to Ben’s New England roots, the first course was oyster chowder that reminded the man of the fine meals he had enjoyed on the wharf in Boston Harbor.  The oysters were tinned, not fresh, but the thick and creamy soup was as delicious as any he could recall.

Hop Sing had truly outdone himself, and the table was soon laden with every possible accoutrement that anyone could have hoped for. 

The entrée was a large tom turkey, which, until the previous week, had been kept in a pen in the corner of the barn.  Hop Sing had been able to convince the animal lover of the family that the turkey had gone to its own home for the holidays, as he had ended the creature’s life on the day that Hoss had attended school with Adam.  The little boy was not averse to eating any type of meat, as long as he had not been on a first name basis with the animal from whence it came.

As Ben did the honors of carving the succulent white and dark meat, the cook continued to deliver a seemingly endless number of plates and bowls.  There were mounds of mashed potatoes with an ample supply of rich turkey gravy, hearty chestnut dressing, a mélange of carrots, parsnips and salsify flavored with butter and bits of onion, soft yeasty dinner rolls which separated into delicate layers that melted in one’s mouth, along with a thick cranberry sauce that was simply a mixture of the fruit and sugar, boiled into a kind of jam that appealed to adult and child alike.  A variety of pickled vegetables, preserved during the summer season, was available, as well as freshly creamed corn. There was a special bottle of Beaujolais wine for the adults, which complimented the hearty flavors beautifully.

While the dishes were passed around the table, the conversation was animated as the children, at their parents’ behest, eagerly voiced their Christmas hopes and desires. 

“I hope St. Nicholas brings me that new pony I’s been wantin’” Hoss said, his blue eyes lighting up with unbridled enthusiasm.  Ben gave Marie a sideways glance, as the pony was slated to be a sixth birthday gift to be given just before the little boy started school and needed a mount of his own.

Trying to undermine any disappointment that might arise the next morning when the pony was not amongst the presents, Ben asked, “St. Nicholas may have trouble bringing a new pony this time of year, son, what with the snow and all.  What else would you like besides that?”

“Well, iffin he don’t bring a pony, I’s guess pretty much anything would be okay.  Maybe some more soldiers or a fort ta put ‘em in would be good too.” 

Ben smiled at Marie, as a fort made of Ponderosa pine had already been boxed, wrapped, and hidden in the bunkhouse for placement under the tree later that evening.

Glancing over at his older brother, as Adam helped himself to more dressing and gravy, Hoss said, “I reckon I knows what Adam wants.  As long as he gots a new book or two, he’ll be happy. Ain’t that right, big brother?”

Adam smiled as his chubby sibling took two more slices of turkey, and moved his plate towards their father, so Ben could cut his meat for him. 

“You’re right, little brother.  I’m always happy to receive a book and Grandpa Stoddard always seems to find such good ones.  I wonder how he knows which ones I’ll like?” 

Ben bit back another smile, as the books that Abel sent were always welcome, no matter what the premise or setting might happen to be. The older man didn’t have to try too hard to please the grandchild he hadn’t seen in over a decade, and he also sent the titles that his son-in-law requested for gifts of his own for his little boy. The bank draft, sent to Boston in payment, continued to increase in size from year to year as Adam’s appetite for knowledge grew as well.

“Your mother loved to read too, Adam, so I imagine that your grandfather is on a first name basis with all the bookshop owners in Boston,” Ben responded with a small smile.

“I sure would like to see Boston someday,” Adam said, with a faraway look in his eye.  “Oh, and Grandpa too, of course!”  He added as an afterthought.   Returning to the matter at hand, he asked “Could you please pass the potatoes, Marie, and the vegetables, too?”

His mother did as he requested, but not before helping herself to another spoonful of each.  Ben, noticing her (relatively speaking) voracious appetite, moved the gravy from Hoss’s side of the table so she could reach it easily. He could see that Marie was enjoying the food and the lighthearted conversation as much as he was. 

Before long, the family put down their utensils and moved, albeit more slowly than before, into the great room to allow their meal to settle before having dessert.  Hop Sing bustled in to clear off what remained of his creations, pleased to see that each plate was clean and all appeared well satisfied with his effort.

“Hop Sing, that was a wonderful meal!”  Ben exclaimed as he eased into his leather chair, a slender new volume from the bookcase in the alcove in his hand. 

“You truly outdid yourself, Hop Sing, très magnifique!”  Marie said, clapping her hands together as she seated herself on the settee at the end closest to her husband.  Hop Sing nodded his head and grinned widely as though he understood the French phrase, because her meaning was obvious.

The boys also indicated their hearty approval of the man’s culinary talents, though Hoss couldn’t help but ask, “That was great, Hop Sing, but whatcha make for dessert?”

The little cook rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, muttering in Cantonese as he carried the dirty dishes from the table and the family laughed aloud at his usual response.

“Hoss, if you can direct your attention to something other than dessert, Papa’s got a new book he thought you might enjoy” Ben said, still chuckling at his little boy’s already legendary appetite.

“What is it, Papa?” the child asked, his interest now diverted to the book in his father’s hand. 

“Come here and see.”  Ben opened his arms and Hoss immediately scampered over to the chair and into his father’s lap.  Settling the child on his left leg, with his arm encircling the broad back, Ben opened the book. 

Adam, who normally would have been seated on the blue velveteen chair (which had been temporarily relocated to the far corner of the room due to the Christmas tree), did not hesitate to take a place on the settee near his stepmother.  Ben glanced up nonchalantly and was pleased to see this seemingly unremarkable, yet very telling, event take place as the two of them turned towards the storyteller expectantly. 

Turning his attentions back to the matter at hand, Ben, for his little one’s benefit, pointed to each of the words on the title page as he read them aloud, “A…Visit…from…Saint…”

“Nicholas!”  The little boy crowed, as his father proudly nodded his agreement. 

“That’s right, son! This is a story all about Saint Nicholas visiting little children on Christmas Eve.”

“Please read it, Papa.  I wants to know all about it!”  Hoss pleaded, his blue eyes alight with anticipation.

The sparkle in his eyes was mirrored in the love shown in his papa’s, as Ben slowly turned to the next page.  In an animated tone, rich with inflection, he began, “’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house…’”

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

“‘But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!’” 

Ben closed the book as he said this, and Hoss turned and gave him a wide grin that his father imagined was the whole reason Clement Moore had written the story for his own children. 

“Thanks Papa that was a great story!”  The little boy enthused.  “Now I knows all about Saint Nicholas, and I just have to wait to hear the reindeers on the roof, ‘afore I goes downstairs ta see him tonight!”

Ben gave Marie a look of bewilderment at the child’s unexpected response, and with a merry look in her eye, she skillfully diverted Hoss’ attention to another matter at hand. 

“What say we see what Hop Sing has for dessert, little one?”  She held her hand out to the child, who slipped down from his father’s lap, and grasped her hand as he eagerly led his mama to the table, where the cook was delivering the meal’s final course.

Adam, with his father’s arm across his shoulders, adjourned to the table too, and the family was soon enjoying not only the traditional plum pudding, but Hop Sing’s first attempt at a Yule Log.  Marie was just a bit envious of how well her intended dessert contribution had turned out in the cook’s more than capable hands, and, after brief consideration, was happy that he had insisted on preparing it, as it was much better than she could have done.

The clock struck half past seven, which was normally the younger boy’s bedtime.  Hoss, the corners of his mouth smeared with the rich chocolate icing from the latest addition to his list of favorite desserts, sighed loudly, as he knew by that sound that his Christmas Eve celebration was drawing to a close.

“Do I have ta go ta bed now, Mama?”  He asked plaintively, hoping that his parents would be less inclined to send him to bed given the fact that it was Christmas Eve.

Marie pretended to consider his request, as Ben played along too.  Adam could see that this was a ruse on both their parts and hid his grin behind his hands, as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. 

“What do you think, Papa?”  Marie asked tentatively.

“Well, I suppose another few minutes wouldn’t hurt, just this once, Mama” Ben replied with a grin, as Hoss gave him a cocoa colored one in return.  “But just until eight o’clock, son.  We wouldn’t want you to sleep through Christmas morning!” 

“Could we please light the candles on the tree one more time, Pa?”  Adam asked, anxious to enjoy the ethereal glow once again. 

“I don’t see why not, son” his father replied.  The family gathered together around the pine tree, marveling as each small flame added to the brilliance of the total. 

“The lights kinda look like stars, huh, Pa?”  Hoss asked, the candlelight dancing in his sky blue irises. 

“Yes, son, they do.”

“Too bad we don’t have a bigger candle to shine like the star over the manger” Adam said, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes made all the more evident by the candles’ glow. As both boys looked to their father for his response, Ben was reminded of his promise of a few nights before.  Heading to his desk, he soon returned with a large, gilt edged book which he held carefully in both his hands.  Marie smiled as she realized what he was doing.  Adam recognized the family Bible, but didn’t immediately connect his comment with his father’s actions. 

It was the family’s youngest member, however, who rightly interpreted his pa’s intent.  “Are ya gonna read us another story, Papa?” 

“Yes, son.  The greatest story the world has ever known.”  Ben was again seated in his easy chair, the large volume covering his lap, as he searched for the chapter and verse that conveyed the true meaning of Christmas. 

Marie quickly extinguished the tree’s tiny flames by wetting her fingers and snuffing each one out between her thumb and index finger.  Hoss, displaced from his father’s lap by the Bible, sat in the corner of the settee nearest his father, and smiled his welcome as his mother made to sit next to him.  Adam sat on Marie’s right side; close enough to notice the pleasant scent of his mother’s lavender water fragrance, and how pretty she looked when she smiled at him.

With his family assembled before him, Ben began to read in a strong and steady voice. 

“Luke 2:1-20.”

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.  And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem (because he was of the house and lineage of David), to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being with child.”

Marie smiled ever so slightly as he read this, reflecting on the fact that here in this room was another Mary who was with child on this most sacred of nights. She felt a special kinship with the Holy Mother that transcended time and place, and closed her eyes in silent thanks for the gift of the life within her.

      “And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

Hoss knew what a manger was, and thought about what it would be like to go out into their barn and find a real baby there amongst all the animals.   

     And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord come upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
      And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
      And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

Adam glanced up at the angel atop the tree, the firelight reflecting on the golden halo and scepter.  He felt an unexplained, but pleasant, glow envelope him as he thought about the peace and good will that he now knew in his own life, thanks to that certain angel who was now in heaven and the one he was coming to love sitting at his side.

     “And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another: "Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is to come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us."
     And they came with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
     But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.’”

The room was still as the man closed the sacred book and slowly ran his hand over its worn cover.  He looked up at his wife and children, and was reminded of another small family many years before, gathered about the mantelpiece, listening to the father reading aloud from that very same Bible. 

Marie’s eyes were bright as she met her husband’s glance, one hand slowly stroking the downy hair on Hoss’ head, and the other placed lightly upon Adam’s knee while Ben was reading.  She looked to be the epitome of all that was gentle and loving in the world, and Ben knew that this would be a Christmas he would always remember, if for no other reason than the memory of the tender scene before him.

Hoss yawned widely, as his eyelids had started to droop while his father was reading.  The warmth of the fire, his mother’s calming touch, and his full tummy had suddenly made him very sleepy. 

“I see a little boy who needs to go to bed before he falls asleep right here” his father said.  Marie gently helped the child from the settee and started to rise to put him to bed. 

“I’ll put him to bed, Marie.  I’m kinda tired myself, so think I’ll turn in too” Adam said, as he put his arm around his little brother’s shoulders. 

“Thank you, son.  We’ll be up to say ‘good night’ in a few minutes.”  Ben responded, as he watched his two children climb the staircase and disappear around the corner.  Meeting his wife’s eyes, he set the Bible on the table and moved to the settee. 

“Once those two are asleep, we can help Saint Nicholas with his burden and bring in the gifts.”  Marie nodded her agreement, and laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, savoring the moment.

Within a few minutes, the two adults arose and went upstairs to wish the two boys ‘sweet dreams’ before commencing with their plan.  Adam’s room was dark, however, it was the sound that emanated from the next room down the hall that drew their attention. 

Listening at the door, the parents were treated to the uninhibited exchange between the two brothers. 

“C’mon, Hoss!  The faster you get into bed, the sooner you’ll be warm.”

“Brrr!  Them sheets is sure cold!”

“Here’s Brownie.  Now shut your eyes and go ta sleep.  I’ll be sure ta put your presents under the tree with mine.”

The creaking of the bed indicated that the older boy had arisen and the soft sound of his shuffling feet telegraphed his movements towards the door.  The two eavesdroppers started to move silently towards the top of the stairs, to make it appear they were just arriving. 

“Adam – I’s cain’t go ta sleep now, cause my feet’s too cold!  Cain’t ya stay for just a little bit longer, til I warm up agin?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Adam returned to his brother’s side.  Yawning loudly himself, and stretching his long arms over his head, he said, “What if I read ta ya, would that help?”

“Could ya sing like ya did the other night?”

Although his expression was not evident to the listeners, his response was kindly.  “Sure, little brother.”

Ben gave Marie a look of surprise, as he did not remember ever hearing his oldest sing by himself, at least not since he was a very small child.  Knowing what was in store; Marie slipped her hand into her husband’s and waited for his reaction as the boy’s pure mezzo-soprano voice reached their ears.

“Silent night. Holy night.”

The sound that emanated from the room took Ben’s breath away, as he was propelled back in time to a small New England church sanctuary and another angelic voice that had meant the world to him.  Marie tightened her grasp as she saw how deeply her husband was affected by the impromptu performance, and was glad that she was there to share this special moment with him.

As the final words died away, Ben regained his composure and slowly pushed open the bedroom door.  Adam smiled up at his parents, unaware that his lullaby had done so much more than aid his brother’s slumber.  He silently moved around the two of them to his own room, picking up Hoss’ two tightly rolled and beribboned presents from the bureau, leaving the adults to complete the nightly ritual of tucking in blankets and kissing sleeping little faces.

Repeating the process a few minutes later in the older child’s room, with a bit less rearranging of the bedclothes, but an equal amount of affection, the self-appointed elves set to their work, transforming the great room into a place where sugar plum visions and Christmas dreams would soon become reality for two very deserving little boys.

Chapter 13

The clock in the great room struck twelve midnight, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day, though it would be hours before the family would gather together around the tree to celebrate. 

In the bedroom closest to the first floor, Adam awoke with a start.  He sat upright in bed, trying to make out the familiar outline of his furnishings, as his ears, accustomed to the quarter hour proclamations by the grandfather clock, strained to recapture the faint sounds that had inexplicably brought him out of his slumber.

‘Nah, it couldn’t be!’  He thought to himself, as he again heard what sounded like footsteps moving on and off the rug by the mantle downstairs.  Lifting the quilt and his legs at the same time, the boy set his bare feet on the cold floor and shivered as he fumbled for his robe and slippers.

He moved silently to his door, and slowly opened it, his scalp tingling with a combination of anticipation and anxiety as he considered what might be causing the shuffling noise. Listening closely, and unintentionally holding his breath, he tried to make out the other, more normal, sounds of the Cartwright household at this time of the night. 

Adam’s dark tousled head popped out into the hallway, and the boy hesitated for a moment before deciding his course of action. The child could feel the increase in temperature which was attributable to the heat from the still burning fireplace downstairs, which crackled as the logs shifted against each other in the grate.  The door to Hoss’ room was ajar, with the dim light from the always present oil-lamp burning steadily.  His little brother was obviously deeply asleep as his snoring was at a minimum.  Adam could hear his contented sighs, a sign that he was obviously dreaming of all the Christmas treasures that awaited him in the morning.

‘Well, little brother, guess it’s not you waiting up for Saint Nick!’  Adam smiled to himself since it appeared that Hoss’ best laid plans about spying on the man in the red suit were apparently all for naught.

Glancing down the hallway, the child noted that the light in his parents’ bedroom was out, meaning that they, too, were most likely asleep. Adam leaned his body in that direction just to make sure, because, in the past, he had heard muffled sounds emanating from there at times when everyone should have been sound asleep, himself included.  There were no such indications of wakefulness now, however and the boy determined that the interloper, whoever he might be, was definitely not a family member.

Moving to the head of the stairway, Adam paused, the innocent child in him hoping against hope that the source of the disturbance really was the jolly old elf himself, and not someone that would ruin the holiday, or worse, for them all. 

Watching from his vantage point, though somewhat blocked by the Christmas tree, he could see the shadow of the person play against the back of the settee.  The figure moved up and down off the hearth, apparently reaching for the stockings that were hung in a row above the fireplace opening. There was a stocking placed there for each of them, as he and Hoss had insisted that everyone should be represented, regardless of age. 

‘It was nice of Marie to finish darning Pa’s other sock, so there’d be enough to go around!’  Adam had thought then, as his father had had to provide all of his extra socks, given he had the biggest feet in the family, which would allow room for more treasures.

The memory of those happy times that they had all shared yesterday emboldened the young lad. Righteous indignation replaced trepidation as the little boy squared his shoulders and started down the stairs to confront the trespasser that would dare to usurp his family’s holiday. Discretion being the greater part of valor, however, he took care to tread lightly on those steps that he knew would protest under his weight, since he did not want to provide any unnecessary indication of his presence until he knew what he was up against. As he moved closer to the landing, he could determine by the size and shape of the silhouette that this was definitely not Saint Nicholas spreading Christmas cheer. 

As he reached the landing, however, he felt almost giddy with relief, as he spied a red outfit, not outlined with fur, but decorated with a montage of Chinese characters.  Instead of a white flowing beard and cap, this figure had a dark plait and a bowl shaped hat made of the same brightly colored silk as the pajamas he wore.

He watched as Hop Sing moved back to the floor in front of the fireplace, a self-satisfied grin evident on his usually unreadable countenance.  The man then sensed the presence of another, and he knew intuitively that it was the older son by the way the child did not intrude on the scene, but took in everything quietly, with an almost reverential manner so unlike most youngsters his age.

The almond shaped eyes of the adult rose to meet the hazel ones of the child.  Adam silently made his way to the man’s side, and the firelight played on his handsome features as he waited for Hop Sing to speak.

“Why liddle boy awake so late?” 

“I thought I heard something so I decided to find out what it was. What are you doing, Hop Sing?”

“You find out in morning with rest of family” he said in a firm tone that Adam knew no amount of cajoling could reverse. 

Reaching up to remove the fireplace screen that was used when the fire was stoked at bedtime, Hop Sing proceeded to add a few large logs atop those that had almost burned to cinders in the hours since Ben and Marie had retired for the night.  As the flames licked around the dry seasoned wood, the room suddenly brightened with a dazzling light that caused the boy to look away, turning his head towards the pine tree that had obliterated his view just moments earlier.

The light careened off the side of the highly polished, hammered copper bathtub that occupied the space just next to the staircase.  The incongruity of its placement and the thought that someone would actually want a bathtub as a gift, made Adam’s mouth drop open in astonishment, as he looked at the Chinaman and then back again to the gleaming metal tub.

“Where’d that come from?” he said, quickly modulating his voice as Hop Sing patted the air with his hands to indicate a quieter tone. “It must have taken two men to carry it in here!”

‘Now we’ll probably have to take baths three times a day!’ he thought privately, though his brow furrowed in such consternation that his true feelings were apparent even as the shadows hid half his face from view.

Hop Sing nodded, without responding, sensing exactly how the boy felt about his mother’s Christmas gift from his father.  The man, however, had enjoyed his surreptitious role in the holiday preparations. As the bathtub’s intended recipient and her husband had filled the children’s stockings, he and Jake had carefully moved the heavy metal object from its temporary home in the bunkhouse to the washhouse.  Ben and Saint Nicholas’ henchman had exchanged knowing glances later as Hop Sing had served the evening coffee.  

Once he knew that his larger gift had been relocated, Ben, leaving Marie to gather her own Christmas offerings from their hiding places, had exited through the kitchen to the ranch hands’ quarters to retrieve the balance of his cache.  He returned just as she reached the top of the stairs, carrying the oversized box that had mysteriously vanished from the storeroom a few days before.

‘Not that I had been snooping, of course, I had just noticed it was missing!’ he thought to himself, trying to rationalize his own childlike imagining of what the box could possibly contain.

There was also a smaller, rectangular package perched precipitously upon the larger parcel, and Ben, placing his own armload of presents on the low table, hurried up the stairs to relieve his wife of her holiday burden.

“Now, no shaking the boxes or trying to guess what they are!”  Marie said in a scolding, albeit teasing tone, as she carefully handed the packages to her spouse.

“Not even if I promise to act surprised when I open them in the morning?”  Ben asked, in a like manner, though, truth be told, his curiosity had been engendered yet again as he took in the size of the box that he carried gingerly down the staircase.  Marie could sense the minuscule bit of real pleading in his response and as she reached the first floor, she tapped her right index finger against her chin, obviously considering the location of yet another ‘gift’.

“Now, where did I put that lump of coal?”  She said, as Ben straightened up after placing the two packages near the base of the tree nearest the fireplace.

“All right, ma’am,” he replied in an earnest tone, reminiscent of his own child’s solemn vow.  “I promise to be a good boy.”

“Oh, I hope not” she said, with a naughty glint in her eye, as Ben, seizing the moment and the obvious invitation, took her in his arms and kissed her lustily.  As they parted, Marie, with her hands placed gently upon his chest, stared up into those warm, dark eyes.

She could see the love and happiness that had always been there, but somehow, now there was more.  She searched her brain for the definition of that something, and finally concluded that it must be the reflection of the inner peace that bubbled up like a wellspring from her husband’s soul.  Her own eyes glimmered in the firelight, as she considered what those “windows” would reveal when she disclosed her joyous news on the morrow. 

Ben, too, took stock of the precious countenance before him, and realized how the events of the past few days had wrought a subtle change in his wife’s demeanor.  Her true nature had displayed itself, as she had eagerly donned the full mantle of motherhood and stepped into the role which she had been born to play.  He considered how they had all changed, for the better, and how anxious he was to spend, not only this blessed holiday but, the rest of his days with this incredible woman.

The tolling of the chimes in the grandfather clock broke the spell, as the two moved together to distribute the remaining gifts under the tree.  It was that abundant array of Christmas surprises that their son looked upon as he stood with the family’s confidant early that next morning.

“Liddle boy need to go to bed.  Present be here tomorrow” Hop Sing said as he indicated the stairway with his hand.

‘Presents?  Oh my gosh, I almost forgot!’ 

“I need to put some gifts under the tree, too, Hop Sing.  I’ll be right back and then I promise I’ll go back to bed.” 

Hop Sing nodded his permission, and Adam moved quickly up to his bedroom.  Finding the gifts by touch rather than sight in the pitch black bedroom, he carefully carried the square box and the two pictures downstairs and placed them deliberately so his present would be the last one opened, while Hoss’ offerings would play second fiddle only to the already abhorrent bathtub.

“Goodnight, Hop Sing” the boy whispered, as he made his way quietly up the stairs.  As he reached the landing, he turned one final time, and added, with a deeply dimpled grin, “Merry Christmas.”

“Goodnight, liddle one. Sleep well” the small man replied with an answering smile, as he turned back towards the kitchen.  The little boy, his anxiety now replaced by the tingle of childish expectation, quickly mounted the rest of the stairs and disappeared into his room.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

The next thing Adam knew, it was morning.  Or at least, it was closer to dawn than it had been the last time he had been awakened by a strange sound.

This time, however, the source of that sound was unmistakable, and not totally unexpected. 

“Adam?  Adam, you awake?” came the insistent whisper of his five-year-old brother, standing by the side of his bed, barefoot and shivering in his nightshirt.  The older boy blinked and yawned widely, as his eyes focused on the bouncing figure before him. 

“Hoss, what are you doing out of bed already?”  He asked, as if the prospect of opening Christmas presents was not reason enough for a little boy to be up before the chickens.

“C’mon Adam!  I wants ta see what Saint Nick brought me!”  Hoss said, his voice rising in his excitement. 

“Shhh!  Not so loud!  If Pa and Marie hear you, they’ll make us go back to bed until the sun comes up.”  Adam scolded, now counting himself in on the escapade. 

“’Kay.  Let’s go downstairs and we’s can see how many presents we gots.”  Hoss responded in a slightly less boisterous voice, which was as close to a whisper as he could muster in his highly enthusiastic state.

“All right, but first go back into your room and do your business. Then put on your robe and slippers and meet me at the top of the stairs” the mastermind of the adventure ordered his cohort in crime.

Without a verbal response, the chubby little figure in the blue and cream stripped flannel nightshirt hurried down the hallway to his bedroom.  The simultaneous sound of two rushing waterfalls was soon followed by the shuffling of house shoes on the woven runner that led to the top of the staircase.

Adam, anxious to more closely examine the bounty that he had glimpsed during the night (and hoping that he had dreamt the part about the bathtub), held his finger to his lips to caution his brother to be as silent as possible on the way down the stairs.  Just as they were about to place their feet on the top step, the sound of a bed creaking and whispered tones from a deep bass voice came rumbling from under the closed pine door of the master suite.

Ben, knowing his children as he did, had reckoned that they would be awake well before the first light of the new day.  His proclivity for light sleeping had once again come in handy, as he had heard the boys’ muted conversation and subsequent footfalls in the hallway.  Marie, sensing her husband’s movements as he alighted from his side of the bed, had now come to full consciousness as well.  She looked first at the window, trying in vain to discern any hint of daylight, and then looked at her spouse in bewilderment.

“Surely they aren’t awake yet?”  She queried, rubbing her eyes to make sure she hadn’t missed any sign of dawn in the blackness that filled the room.

“Yes, they’re awake” Ben said with a smile.  “But they won’t be heading downstairs anytime soon.”  With that, he moved towards the entrance to their bedroom and slowly opened the door.

Adam and Hoss, well aware that their father would be less than pleased if he caught them downstairs before the rest of the family, scrambled for the safety of their respective bedrooms just before Ben stuck his head out the door.  In a stage whisper of his own, he said, (supposedly to his wife but really for the enlightenment of his offspring), “No, Marie, I guess I was wrong.  They know better than to be up and about before we are.  We should be able to have another half hour’s sleep before they wake up.”

He chuckled to himself as he heard the heart wrenching sighs that emanated from the two rooms close by the head of the hallway, and slowly closed the door.

            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Finally, after what seemed more like thirty hours than thirty minutes to two excited little boys, Ben and Marie (having just commemorated the holiday in a highly private but, most pleasant manner) left their bedroom and quietly made their way to the first bedroom closest to theirs.  Hoss’s obviously terrible attempt at snoring (when he was actually wide awake) caused his parents to shake with soundless mirth as Marie gently jiggled his broad shoulders, that were, for some reason, clothed in his dark blue robe as well as his nightshirt.

“Huh? What’s a matter?”  The young thespian replied as he brought forth a wide and noisy yawn. 

Ben winked slyly at his wife, then said, “Merry Christmas, son.  It must have been awfully cold last night, seeing as how you wore your robe to bed.” 

“Uh, Merry Christmas, Papa, Mama. I…um…” Hoss stammered, as he rose slowly from his bed. Before the tyke could think of a way to refute his father’s statement, another voice was heard coming from the bedroom entrance.

“What’s all the noise about?”  The slightly more convincing actor in the family queried as he walked in, lifting his arms over his head, and stretching lazily. 

Ignoring the question, his father replied, “Merry Christmas, Adam.  I hope we didn’t wake you too early.”

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Pa, Marie. Uh, no, Pa, you didn’t wake me.  I…I was just about ready to get up anyway.” Ben moved to ruffle the tousled hair on his son’s head, and as he did so, he happened to glance down towards the stairwell, where he had earlier spied a familiar object on the runner at the top of the stairs.

“Well, that’s a good thing, son because it looks like your slipper was already on its way downstairs without you.”   Ben indicated the item with a nod of his head as Adam followed his gaze.  Turning back to face his father, the little boy gave him a weak smile, now remembering that he had unintentionally abandoned his right slipper when he had hurried back into his bedroom earlier that morning.

The boys looked at each other, and then, under their parents’ steady gaze, guiltily dropped their eyes to the floor.  Marie, knowing that her husband would not have the heart to mete out any punishment on such a special day, bit her lip as she saw the merriment gleam brightly in Ben’s eyes.

“Well?”  Ben drew out the word letter by letter, with an expression of mock severity on his face and his arms crossed on his chest. Gaining no immediate response from his two rapscallions, he continued, though now in a decidedly lighthearted voice.

“I don’t know about you two, but I want to see what Saint Nicholas brought for Christmas!  C’mon, Mama, let’s go!”  With that, Ben reached for his wife’s hand and made to leave the room.

Two suddenly smiling faces rose in tandem as the boys realized that they were obviously forgiven for their early morning escapade.  Adam took off like a shot, rounding the corner to his bedroom to gather his robe and lone slipper, while Hoss moved swiftly around his parents, down the hall and skidded to a halt at the top to the stairs.  Handing the errant shoe to his brother, both children then clattered down the stairs, laughing and chattering as they went. 

Ben and Marie, chuckling at their sons’ exuberance, moved at a more leisurely pace. Just as they reached the landing, they heard Hoss exclaim, in a horrified tone, “Who’s that for?”

“Hoss, don’t spoil the surprise!”  Ben cautioned, knowing exactly to what the child was referring.  Turning to the now both curious and confused Marie, he said “Darling, close your eyes and I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”   With a tingle of anticipation that made her feel like a little girl again, Marie dutifully closed her emerald eyes and felt one of Ben’s hands on her elbow and the other around her waist, as she lifted her robe and gown, so as not to trip down the remaining few stairs.  She was breathless with anticipation, as she reached the bottom. Ben winked at his boys and held his index finger to his lips as he turned Marie to face her present.

“Merry Christmas, darling. You can open your eyes now.”

Marie blinked just as Adam had earlier, though her visage was the exact opposite of what his had been when confronted by the same copper sided vessel that now shown brightly in the sunlit room.

“Oh, Mon chéri!” she cried, her hands flying to her face in excitement.  “It’s just what I wanted.  Thank you, darling, thank you!” 

Ben’s face was almost split in two by the size of his answering grin, and he especially enjoyed the spontaneous hug and kisses that served to convey his spouse’s gratitude for her totally unexpected, but very much appreciated, gift. 

The boys looked at each other in amazement, each with the same thought as to how anyone could be thankful for a bathtub! Anxious to move on to something much more important, (namely the contents of their stockings) both boys scaled the hearth to get at the bounty awaiting them, while their parents were discussing the merits of a larger tub. 

Adam, with his slight advantage in height, unhooked a dark brown sock that was now extended to almost twice its normal length due to its contents, and handed it to the eagerly outstretched hands of his younger brother.  Ben just happened to look up and see both his little ones much too close to the fire. He moved swiftly to help Hoss to the ground, all the while cautioning his oldest to “Be careful” as the boy repeated the process with his own stocking.

As Adam stepped unaided to the floor, he joined Hoss, who was now kneeling on the rug in front of the fireplace.  Both little boys dove into their respective stockings, anxious to find out what they contained.

“Look, Papa!  I gots a Finger top and two cows for my Noah’s Ark!”  Hoss fairly shouted, as he set the just named presents on the table and returned to the stocking for more. 

Adam, not wasting time on announcing his first discovery, immediately put the white peppermint stick into the side of his mouth, and grinned his thanks to his parents. Digging deeper into the stocking, he found a bag of marbles and a brightly painted wooden top of his own in the woolen wrapping.

“I got a top too, Hoss, ‘cept mine’s a whippin’ top, so we’ll have ta have a contest ta see who’s ‘ll go the longest”  Adam said, speaking around the peppermint stick, as he withdrew the rawhide “whip” that was used to make the top spin after it was initially set into motion.  Hoss’ toy was simpler, in that it was spun by grasping its stem and twisting it quickly between the fingers. 

“Just be careful with that thing, mon ami, or you could put someone’s eye out” Marie said, her voice filled with motherly concern.  

“Yes’m” Adam said with a sigh and a bit of a grimace, but his mother noted happily that the ‘ma’am’ was said with respect, rather than malice.

Ben reached out his hand and Marie grasped it tightly, as the two adults sat down on the settee to watch their children rummage for the rest of their treasures.  Hop Sing entered the room, bearing a fresh pot of coffee for the spectators, even though he had been given the day off by his employer as repayment for all his hard work of the previous day (and every other day, for that matter).  The coffee, however, was just a ruse to give him a reason to join the festivities, as his real purpose was to watch his boys’ faces when they discovered the gifts he had placed in their stockings.

“Good morning, Hop Sing” Ben said jovially, as he handed the proffered cup of steaming coffee to his spouse.  “I’m sorry if we woke you on your day off.”

“Hop Sing, you don’t have to lift a finger today.  I’ll take care of everything” Marie added, as she carefully sipped the hot liquid. It had already been decided that today’s dining would be more casual than the day before, with a minimum of fuss.  She was surreptitiously pleased, however, that he had made the coffee, as that afforded her more time to enjoy the morning’s events.

Adam looked up at the little man, remembering his clandestine activities earlier that morning which had aroused a curiosity in the child that had yet to be satisfied. There was a sparkle in the dark slanted eyes as he saw the child try to ascertain which, if any, of the items he had uncovered so far might have been from a certain late night visitor. Deciding that his parents had been the givers so far, the little boy, with stubborn determination, stuck his hand into the stocking again, not sure what he was searching for, but abundantly confident that he would be able to discern what the Chinaman had deposited there.

Hoss, oblivious to his brother’s mission, smiled happily as he found his packet of candy and wasted no time in popping a sour ball into his mouth, which caused his cheek to bulge out on one side.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he had a plug of chewing tobacco in there” his father whispered, as Marie laughed at the private joke.

While his parents were watching his little brother’s antics, Adam discovered a bright red envelope that was approximately two inches square.  He couldn’t imagine what could be contained in such a small package, and paused for a moment to consider the slightly weighted contents.  His sibling then came across an identical package, and examined it with an equally perplexed look on his face. 

Adam now knew he had found Hop Sing’s gift, due to the silent, though telling, exchange between his parents, as they looked at each other in confusion, knowing that neither one of them had placed such an item in either boy’s stocking.

“What’s this?”  Hoss managed to ask as he shifted the now slightly smaller lemon-flavored orb to his other cheek.  He saw that his brother had one exactly the same, so he watched with interest to see what Adam’s envelope contained before opening his own.

Adam, smiling as he saw the little man give a slight nod of his head, unfolded the delicate rice paper packet.  The slightly smug look on his face, from having correctly deduced who the giver had been, was quickly supplanted by wide eyed amazement, as the boy withdrew a shiny silver dime from the envelope.  

“Gosh, thanks Hop Sing!”  He said without thinking, as Hoss quickly discovered the same monetary gift in his envelope.  The younger boy had no sense whatsoever of the value of money, but he did know that this was more money than he had ever had in his whole life!

“Yeah, thanks, Hop Sing” he mimicked. The little cook bowed slightly to the two recipients and was obviously delighted with their response to his gifts.

Realizing now that the money could only have come from one benefactor, but unclear as to how his older son knew who that was, Ben said, “Hop Sing, that was very generous of you, but a nickel would have been more than ample for each of them.”

The man shook his head vigorously and exclaimed, “No, Mista Cartlight, nickel vely bad luck!  Hop Sing give hong bao to chilren, lucky money for good boys to spend in New Year.”  He did not disclose the somber reason why nickels were to be avoided because, in the Chinese culture, the coin was a symbol of loss and sorrow, and were tossed into the graves of the just departed.

“Well, in any case, that was very good of you to think of them. Thank you.”

Hop Sing bowed and turned to leave the room.  Fortunately for Adam, he did linger long enough to hear Ben’s next question.

“Adam” he asked, in a way that told the boy his father already suspected the correct answer, “how did you know that envelope was from Hop Sing?” 

The child nervously reached up to pull on his right earlobe (as he always did when he was considering what part of the truth he should hide from his pa), removed the candy from his mouth, and said in a hesitant voice, “Well, Pa, ya see…”

The child then received a second gift (that was worth more than a hundred dimes), from the cook as the little man came up with a response that was both clever and believable at the same time.

“Liddle boy see Hop Sing folding paper when he come to ask for wrapping for father’s gift” he said easily.  “He vely smart boy to remember.”    The “vely smart” boy swallowed hard as he hoped his father would believe the adult’s version of the truth.

‘I did see Hop Sing with the red paper that day, but I didn’t remember it ‘til he mentioned it just now!’

Ben was still not fully convinced as he had noted that Hoss’ Christmas gifts to his parents were now under the tree, whereas the last time he had seen them was the night before when Adam had taken them into his room. In keeping with the spirit of the season, however, he decided to be generous too.

“Yes, he certainly is a very smart boy” he said, winking at his young offspring.  “Thank you again, Hop Sing and enjoy your day off.”

Adam breathed a sigh of relief, and his appreciation for his father’s benevolence was more than apparent as he smiled brightly at his parent and also at his redeemer, and then returned the peppermint stick to its rightful place.

With that, the Chinaman ambled off towards the kitchen, but turned back one final time to happily intone “Melly Chlistmas” before disappearing into the pantry.

“Merry Christmas, Hop Sing!” chorused the family, as Ben moved towards the fireplace to add another log to the brightly burning pile.  Adam’s attention was drawn by his father’s actions, and he happened to glance up at the remaining stockings still suspended above the opening.

“Hey, Pa” he said, pointing towards them.  “There’s something in yours and Marie’s stockings too!”

“Well, what do you know?  Looks like you boys were right about your mother and I needing to hang some up for ourselves.”  With that, the man handed one slightly bulging stocking to his spouse and then looked with great interest into his own package. 

A boyish grin of delight spread across Ben’s face as he discovered the tin of licorice drops that Marie had asked Hop Sing to place there after she and her husband had gone to bed. In true Cartwright fashion, he quickly opened the container and happily popped a black candy disk into his mouth. Offering the tin to the rest of the family, who each made a face before politely declining; he set the candy aside and continued to rummage in his sock. 

Marie watched his every move, knowing what he would find and hoping that he would be as pleased with it as she was.   His eyes grew as wide as the children’s had, when he discovered a shiny silver watch chain and fob in the toe of the stocking.

“Darling, thank you!” he said, as he turned the fob over to find a replica of the Ponderosa’s pine tree brand engraved on one side.  “How on earth did you find someone to make this?”

Marie, after happily accepting his kiss of thanks, said, “I sent a copy of the brand to the jewelry store in New Orleans where we purchased my wedding band, and had him make it for you.” 

“I will treasure it always, love” Ben said, deeply touched by her thoughtfulness and ingenuity. 

“C’mon, Mama” came an eager voice from the other side of the table.  “Let’s see what you gots!”

“All right” she said excitedly, as she brought forth a box of bath salts, and three bars of expensive, aromatic, French hand milled soap, wrapped in tissue paper. 

“Oh, Ben” she said delightedly.  “You spoil me!” 

“No more than you deserve, darling.  I’m glad you like them.”  Ben said, as he reminded himself that he must thank Hop Sing privately for placing the items in his wife’s stocking the night before.

“But, Mama” protested the youngest member of the family, “you didn’t get no candy like me ‘nd Adam ‘nd Papa.”  As he suddenly remembered that Christmas was for giving as well as receiving, the little boy said in an unselfish manner, “You can have some a’mine Mama.  Saint Nicholas brought me a whole mess o’candy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.  Mama will have some later, all right?”

“‘Kay” said Hoss as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped by his brother towards the Christmas tree.  Seeing that his presents to his parents were right on top of the rest, the child carefully picked up the scrolls and carried one to each.

“Here ya go, Papa and Mama.  I’s hope ya like ‘em”  he said with a fair amount of  concern in his voice as to the worthiness of his offering, his countenance made all the more endearing as his soft blond hair fell into his earnest blue eyes.

“Baby” said his mother, brushing back his hair with her fingertips, “we love them already, just knowing that you made them for us.” 

Her caring response helped to alleviate the child’s worries, as the parents carefully removed the ribbon around their respective gifts and slowly unrolled the “masterpieces”.

“Oh, darling, what a sweet picture of you with the flowers” Marie said, sincerely pleased with her little boy’s efforts.  “I will hang it in my bedroom so I can see it everyday when I wake up.”  Hoss grinned broadly as Ben added his praise.

“Hoss, this is a wonderful picture of you and me on Buck.  I can see how hard you worked on it, and I’ll put it on my desk so I may enjoy it all the time.  Thank you, son.”

Hoss blushed as both his parents gave him a kiss and a hug for his thoughtful gifts, and he giggled delightedly as he returned to the tree to find what else Saint Nicholas brought for him.  Given that his sibling couldn’t yet read the tags on the packages, Adam assisted him in finding a gift that had his name on it. 

“Here you go little brother.  I wonder what it is?”  He said teasingly, as he shook the box back and forth, before setting it upon the table. 

Hoss, in typical fashion, tore into the carefully wrapped package and found exactly what he had requested at supper the previous evening. 

“Look, everybody!  It’s a real fort, made a ‘wood, with a gate ‘nd everythin’!”  He exclaimed, while moving the aforementioned gate back and forth with his pudgy fingers.

“I guess Saint Nicholas knew just what you wanted, huh Hoss?”  Adam asked in a seemingly innocent voice, though he knew that Charley had made the toy, as well as the animals for the ark, at Ben’s request. What he didn’t know was what Ben had purchased for him via an agreement with his “Boston supplier”. 

“You might want to open that one, Adam” Ben directed, indicating a tall sided rectangular box, near the hearth. “But be careful, it’s breakable.”

Without a moment of hesitation but with a large dose of childlike glee, the boy put the box on the table, ripped off the paper and cautiously lifted the top flap.  Inside, nested within a considerable amount of crumpled newspaper, was an exact replica of ‘The Wanderer’ encased in a large glass bottle.

“Gosh, Pa!  Where did it come from?”  Adam asked, as he lifted the gift from the paper while his father held the box. Ben grinned as it was obvious that his son had forgotten that his grandfather owned and managed the “Cartwright-Stoddard Ships Chandlery” wharf side in Boston, where he could commission any type of nautical artifact that was available in the city. 

Before his father could respond, Hoss piped up, “Saint Nicholas can find anythin’, Adam!  All’s ya gotta do is ask.”  Seeing the slightly stern looks he received at this assumptive remark, he added hastily, “and be a good boy, too, a ‘course.” 

Adam was immediately reminded that he had been far from ‘good’ at the time his father must have ordered this gift.  This further confirmed the fact that no matter what, his father’s love for him had never wavered, and he was suddenly overcome by the enormity of that love.   Looking into his parent’s dark, adoring eyes, he said, in a choked voice, “Thanks, Pa.  I’ll always treasure it.”  Ben’s eyes took on a misty sheen as he nodded his acceptance of his son’s gratitude.

Remembering that his father’s gift was still unopened, Adam gently set the glass bottle within its box, and on his hands and knees, moved back to the tree to find it.  He hoped that Marie wouldn’t be offended that he was presenting his father’s gift before hers, but he saw her slight nod of agreement and sly wink, as he handled the package to Ben.

“Who is this from?” he asked teasingly because he could tell by the anxious expression on his little boy’s face that he was the creator of the gaily wrapped gift he held in his hands.

“It’s from me, Pa.  I hope you like it.”  Smiling at his mother, he added, “Marie helped me wrap it, that’s why it looks so nice.” 

Ben smiled as he quickly removed the paper revealing the nautically themed shadowbox. 

“Adam, this is wonderful! You did this all yourself?”  His father asked in amazement as he admired the woodworking skills that it took just to make the frame, let alone the meticulous care that the child had taken to assure that the knots were all tied and labeled correctly. 

“Well, Charley helped me saw the wood for the frame, and he showed me how to piece it together” he replied, giving credit where it was due.  “But I sanded it, and nailed it and tied all the knots, and made the labels by myself.”

“Do you really like it, Pa?”  He asked timidly, not searching for compliments but wanting so much for his father to realize the love and dedication he put into the final product. 

“Yes, son” Ben replied, sensing the reason behind the question and wanting to assure the child  that his handmade gift was almost as precious to him as its maker.  “Thank you so much, Adam.  It is more than I could ever have hoped for.”  With that, he set the gift gently on the table and pulled his child into a hug that was happily accepted and just as readily returned. 

Marie’s eyes were glistening as she watched the tender exchange between father and son.  Hoss, who was totally absorbed in playing with his new toy and had missed the preceding moment entirely, looked up to see his mother near tears.

“Don’t cry, Mama!  I’s find ya a gift to open” he said in a helpful tone, as he tried to discern which package might contain something for her.

Ben and Adam moved apart and the man glanced somewhat apprehensively at his spouse.  Hoping that her emotional state was just a result of the moment and not due to any lingering melancholy for her missing prayer beads, he rose from his seat and moved around the table to assist his son in finding a present for his mother. 

Ben reached for the square box that Adam had tried to hide behind the base of the tree.  “This one is for your mama, Hoss” he said, as he started to hand the gift to him to take to Marie. 

Adam’s eyes flew open when he saw what his father had found and said, in an anxious tone, “No, Pa, please…I want Marie to open that last.”

“Oh… all right, Adam” he replied kindly.  Marie’s countenance was immediately improved as she realized that the child had actually thought to provide her with a gift of his own.  The significance of that gesture, however, caused her eyes to fill yet again as she recognized how far their relationship had come in such a short time.

Ben hurriedly found another present under the tree, hoping to delay the inevitable until the rest of the gifts had been opened.

“Here, darling, I think Saint Nick left this one for you” he said, giving her a wink in an effort to help her regain her composure. 

With a tremulous smile in thanks for his caring gesture, Marie slowly removed the ribbon and bows from the top and started to ease the box from the paper. 

Hoss, anxious to see what his mother had received, said in an urgent whimper, “Mama, don’t ya wanna see what ya got?”  Marie laughed as she ripped the paper back with her hand, gaining a grin from her youngest for her efforts.  She pulled the top from the box, and was thrilled to see a cream colored, woven wool shawl, obviously made to keep one warm in the dead of winter.  Her joy was compounded by the fact that it was more than sufficient to cover her now and in the coming months when she would require a garment that could accommodate her increasingly ample proportions. 

She stood up and draped it about her shoulders, turning this way and that so as to model for her appreciative audience. 

“You look very fetching, my dear” Ben said, with equal parts admiration for the wearer and satisfaction for finding something his wife would like.

“It’s lovely, darling.  Thank you so much.”

“But, Mama” Hoss exclaimed.  “Papa said that was from Saint Nicholas.  How come you’re thanking Papa for it?”  The little boy’s brow was furrowed and he seemed somewhat distraught as if, perhaps, this talk about Saint Nicholas was only so much nonsense.

Adam, who had been watching absentmindedly, heard the concern in Hoss’ question.  As his parents did not appear to have a ready answer, he ventured to give one of his own. 

“Hoss, it’s only right to thank someone for your gifts, and even though Saint Nicholas brought the gift, I bet Pa was the one that thought to tell him that Marie needed a new shawl. Isn’t that right, Pa?” 

Ben nodded his head in a matter of fact way and said, “That’s exactly right, son.  Saint Nicholas always needs some help in deciding what gifts to bring, so I sent him a list of presents for Mama…”

“And I did the same for Papa” Marie said, with conviction.

“Oh, and I sent ‘im a list of the things that I wanted, and I bet ‘ole Adam did too.” 

“A ‘course I did!”  Adam replied, knowing that the fib would not be a punishable offense in his parents’ eyes.  In fact, when he glanced up at them, all he saw was a grateful look for his quick thinking in preserving his sibling’s innocent belief in the wonder of Christmas.

They opened the rest of the gifts in quick succession, until the last two that remained were the large gift for Ben and Marie’s gift from Adam.  Captain Stoddard had provided a copy of “The Pearl”, a collection of children’s short stories for his young grandson, and had even including a small chapbook for Hoss called “Ditties for Children”, which had poems with a moral that even young children could understand.  The boys received a joint gift of a set of dominoes from Saint Nick, as well as new socks and flannel nightshirts that Marie had made for each of them.  Ben had also asked that Abel purchase additional books for Adam on his behalf and expense, as the choices in the local mercantile were few, and Adam had already read the ones on offer there. 

The child anxiously unwrapped the three new volumes his parents selected, although one was a reference book, “The American Spelling Book” by Noah Webster.   The other two; “The Last of the Mohicans” by James Fenimore Cooper and “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickens; brought a whoop of joy from the avid reader, who took pains to place the books well away from the whirling dervish that was his younger brother, as Hoss opened the remainder of his gifts.

The little boy received a cup and ball game, a popgun, and perhaps the most wondrous thing of all (to Hoss’ mind at least), a wagon of his very own.  Ben had hidden the miniature conveyance in the bunkhouse, and given the space taken up by the bathtub, had asked Hop Sing to place it behind the desk in the alcove when he and Jake moved Marie’s gift in that night.  Taking advantage of the need to place Hoss’ picture on his desk, Ben asked, in a seemingly naïve way, “Hoss, would you please put your picture on Papa’s desk, so it doesn’t get ruined?”

Always accommodating, the child said, “Sure, Papa” and moved to the desk, picture in hand.  As he set the paper on the large, oak desk, he caught a glimpse of red paint behind his father’s chair.  Curious, he walked around the furniture, while his parents and older brother watched impatiently for his response.  They did not have long to wait.

“A wagon!  Papa, Mama, come see!  Saint Nicholas broughts me a wagon” he said delightedly, as he pulled it carefully around the corner of the desk and into the living room. 

“Now I’s can help with more chores, and carry the eggs, and the vegetables from the garden, and put my toys in it…and…and everythin’!”  He finished breathlessly, as his family enjoyed his exuberance as much as he did the gift itself.

The Meerschaum pipe and tobacco also made a surprise appearance, thanks to Hop Sing and his Christmas Eve deliveries, as Marie had forgotten all about the abandoned present in the midst of the upheaval caused by her missing rosary. 

The tree looked rather barren by this point, but there was a definite feeling of heightened anticipation on the part of both the giver and the recipient as Adam lifted his father’s gift onto the low table.  He gave his mother an encouraging smile, though, in his heart, he felt that his pa would be less than enamored of the contents of the package.  Hoss looked on eagerly, and Adam was more than a little jealous of his brother’s blissful ignorance of the whole thing. 

‘Maybe I shoulda warned her that it really isn’t something he’d like”   Adam had briefly considered this tact, but had decided against it as what was done was done, and Marie wouldn’t have anything else to give in its stead.  Plus, he knew how anxious she was to give it to his father, and didn’t have the heart to put a damper on her enthusiasm.  The boy was intensely curious, however, to see his pa’s reaction to the offering.

With both children (and of course, Marie) watching closely, Ben removed the large red bow from the box and opened the hinged lid on the paper carton. 

The man’s expression went from one of anticipation to sincere appreciation, as he pulled the long quilted robe from the cardboard nest.  It was colored a deep burgundy, and had obviously been made to accommodate this particular man’s stature and physique.  It was a handsome specimen, although the addition of the mauve lining on the collar and cuffs, as well as the accents of the same hue on the pockets, made it abundantly clear that a woman had been intimately involved in its design.

“Darling, I’m overcome” Ben said, in a genuine expression of gratitude, though his choice of words caused his older son to avert his eyes so as not to laugh aloud.  Slipping his arms into the garment, he tied it snugly around his middle and marveled at the expert craftsmanship and attention to detail, as well as the fact that it was actually long enough in both the body and the arms to suit him. 

Marie was grinning broadly and clapped her hands together as she said, “I did so hope you would like it!  I had it made at the haberdasher in San Francisco where you bought your fleece lined jacket last winter.  I ordered it as soon as I was able in the spring and it came just before the Harvest Dance.”

“Gosh, Pa, it’s about the purdiest thing I ever did see” remarked Hoss in wide eyed approval, and, it was all Adam could do to keep his comments (and his snickers) to himself.  His demeanor changed immediately; however, as he saw the look of devotion that passed between the two adults, as Ben kissed Marie tenderly and murmured his thanks.  He suddenly realized that it wasn’t the gift so much as it was the love and thoughtfulness with which it was given, and he could plainly see that his father was not masking his true feelings as the boy had originally thought.

Feeling very much ashamed of himself for his juvenile appraisal of the situation, the child said sincerely, “It really is a nice looking robe, Pa.  Marie showed it to me before, when she helped me wrap my gift.”  Ben, suspecting how the boy might have reacted had he not been thinking of his mother’s feelings, gave him a smile and said, “Thank you, son.  I’m glad you kept it a surprise.”

Hoss, wanting to feel the plush fabric, walked over to Ben’s side and placed his hand on the pocket of the robe. 

“Hey, Pa!  Saint Nicholas musta hid somethin’ else in here” he said, patting the pocket’s slightly irregular outline with his palm.

“What?”  Ben said, as he slipped his hand into the left hand pocket. Marie, totally unaware of any other “gift” was as curious as the recipient and the two young observers as to what was contained there. There was no doubt as to the value of it, however, as the man slowly withdrew his hand with the rose quartz rosary dangling from his fingers.

“My rosary! Oh, dear God, I never thought I would see it again” Marie said joyfully through her tears, as her husband placed the string of beads into her cupped hands.  “It must have slid into the pocket when I was folding the robe on the bed, after I showed it to Adam.”

Ben and Hoss were both beaming at this happy turn of events, but there was no sound from the remaining person in the room. 

Adam quickly sat up on his knees and turned towards the fireplace, so the rest of the family would not see the tears that threatened to spill from his own hazel eyes.  It was obvious to the adults, however, that the older child did not share in the joy of finding the missing item. 

Marie, the rosary still entwined in her fingers, looked questioningly at her spouse.  Ben, not understanding his son’s response, made to move towards the despondent little boy whose shoulders were rising and falling with his now unbridled tears. 

It was his mother, however, that eased down onto the rug, grasped his heaving shoulders in her hands and turned the child towards her.

“Adam, sweetheart…what’s wrong?”  She asked, her voice filled with angst at his obvious despair. 

The child shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.  Marie set the rosary aside and took his face in both her hands, just as she had done the week before when they had made their peace.  She gently forced his head upwards so the swimming, gold flecked eyes would meet her own caring ones. 

“Baby, please…tell me what it is that has you so upset” she pleaded, smoothing his uncombed curls with her fingers.  Adam, for a reason that he could not explain, lost all remaining signs of reticence and entered his mother’s arms. 

“Oh, Ma, I…I wanted it to be so…so special, and now it doesn’t even matter anymore” he managed to say as Marie rocked him gently against her. 

“There, there, baby…what is it that doesn’t matter?”  She asked, truly bewildered by his statement.

Adam pulled back, and reached under the tree for the final present, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robe as he did so.  Handing the simple wooden box to her, he said simply, “This”.

Marie looked at the box and undid the ribbon that had been lovingly tied by this anguished little boy.  Lifting the box lid, she gasped as she saw what it contained and felt the hot tears course unbidden down her cheeks as she lifted the homemade rosary from its nest.

“Oh, Ben, look!”  She exclaimed, as he moved to examine the prayer beads in her hand.

The child had taken the remainder of the beads that had been discovered when they made the ornaments and painstakingly tied each one onto the length of twine, in the correct order and number for the decades of the rosary.  Using the sacred medal of Saint Frances of Paolo from his father’s sea chest, he had removed the chain and attached it as a sanctified symbol in place of the customary representation of the Virgin.  A simple hand carved wooden cross, made from a Ponderosa pine bough, was dangling at the end of the beadwork, held by an intricate and carefully executed sailors’ knot that complemented the natural beauty of the crucifix.

“I…I made it for you, when you couldn’t find yours” he explained, in a thick voice, though no such explanation was necessary.  “But now…now that you have your real one back, you won’t need this one.”  Wiping his tear-stained cheeks with his hands, he concluded, “And now, I don’t have anything to give you for Christmas.”

“Oh, sweetheart” Marie said, fighting to overcome her own emotions in order to comfort this most precious child.  “How can you say that I don’t need this one?  It is the most beautiful thing I could have ever imagined.  I could never have wanted anything more and I will cherish it always, no matter how many rosaries I have.”

Adam gazed deeply into her eyes, wanting so badly to believe that his ‘meager’, homemade gift could ever mean as much to her as her own.  Seeing the cloud of doubt still flickering there, Marie continued, speaking directly from her heart.

“I love this rosary, Adam, not just because it was given to replace the one I lost, but because you made it for me.”  Repeating the words she had spoken to his brother earlier that week, she said, “Christmas is about giving to others, and the greatest gift you can give is something that comes from your heart.”

Marie’s words were the key to unlock the last of the hidden places in her little boy’s heart, as he said quietly, but with a tremulous smile, “Merry Christmas, Ma.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.  Merry Christmas.”

Epilogue

“Well, it’s been quite a Christmas” Ben remarked, as he settled down to enjoy a few quiet moments with his wife, after the day had dwindled down to a few remaining hours.  The fire before them burned brightly, though the rest of the living room was shrouded in darkness.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get the boys to sleep” replied Marie, as she nestled into her husband’s chest, warmed not only by his closeness but by the contentment that radiated from them both.

She looked down at the handmade rosary in her lap and gently fingered the smooth, hand tooled, wooden cross.  Ben noted her movements and brought his free hand across to touch the image of the patron saint in the center of the strand. 

‘I’m glad it was this prayer that You granted, Lord’ he thought to himself, and he kissed Marie gently on the forehead as he took her hand in his.

Feeling her tremble at his touch, Ben tightened his hold about her shoulders, thinking she was shivering from cold. 

“Let me get you a blanket, darling or perhaps, we should go up to bed.  You must be tired from getting up so early and having to prepare all the meals by yourself.”

“Oh, no dear, I’m fine” she replied, because her trembling was due from anticipation rather than the temperature of the room.  She had thought of nothing but this moment for weeks, and now that it was here, she found herself at a loss for words.

Ben was silent, lost in his memories of the day just ended. 

“We certainly have two wonderful sons, don’t we?” Marie said simply, as she set the rosary carefully upon the low table.

“Um hmm, they are quite the pair” Ben agreed, remembering their endless rounds of dominoes, with the younger boy the victor more times than not.  “I thought Adam was letting Hoss win until I saw the look on his face when Hoss beat him three times in a row!”

Marie laughed, and then suddenly decided on a subtle approach to convey her happy news.

“They do get along well though, especially considering the difference in their ages.”

“Six years really isn’t that many, darling.”

“No, but twelve years will be, mon chéri.”

“Twelve years?”

“Yes, darling.  Almost twelve years between Adam…” she paused as she took his hand and placed it upon her abdomen, “and this baby.”  

Ben was now the one that was trembling, as he stared at his hand and let his heart believe what his ears had just heard. 

Lifting his eyes to take in this woman; his wife, his lover, the mother of his children and now, the precious guardian of their child within her, Ben let the tears of joy fall unchecked.

“Darling, are you sure?”  He asked in a halting voice, though he pressed his hand tenderly under the small bulge, in effect cradling his child in his palm.

“Yes, mon chéri, very sure” she said, her green eyes shimmering as she felt, first, the warmth of his flesh radiate through her and then, the baby quivering, seemingly in response to its father’s touch. 

“But, when?  When did you know for sure?” 

Marie blushed prettily and looked at his hand on her belly, as she said, “Well, it wasn’t confirmed until just recently, but I knew…”  She met his eyes then, “I knew the night of the Harvest Moon dance when I prayed for a child as a symbol of our love.”

Ben moved his arm from the back of the settee and Marie turned instinctively to face him.  Taking her face between his fingertips, he held it there for just a moment, as if entrusted with the most delicate piece of translucent china.  In that moment, Marie saw in his eyes what she had hoped she would see, a love for her and for their child that completed him and brought them full circle in their devotion to each other.

He kissed her as he had that very first time, gently yet with an underlying adoration and passion that she knew would last for all time.

Without another word, he stood and brought her to a standing position also. He slipped his arms under her and lifted her slowly off her feet.  Her arms encircled his neck and she laid her head on his broad chest as he quietly carried her to their room.

                        *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Outside, the winter snow began to fall again, dusting the trees with another layer of frosty whiteness. The smiling snowman, with the handmade scarf, continued to stand guard alongside the large ranch house, as the smoke curled lazily from the chimney.

Inside, however, on this most holy of nights, everything had changed. An amazing and wondrous miracle had been wrought, the memories of which would bring comfort and joy to each of them, child and adult alike. The Cartwright family had been blessed beyond measure, with the gift of each other’s love.

                                                            The End