Hoss' nose wrinkled as a strange scent reached it.  Shifting in his sleep, he breathed more deeply of the odor, wanting to know what it was but not quite ready to open his eyes and discover its source. Tobacco, he decided dreamily.  Nice sweet smelling tobacco, with an undercurrent of vanilla and some vague spice in it.  Different than what Pa usually smoked.  "Musta got it for Christmas," he mumbled.  Readjusting his body, Hoss frowned when he could not roll over in his bed, and woke up a little more, realizing that he was sitting slouched in his father's red leather chair.  "Why am I…?"

The question cut off in a horrified gasp as the young man sat bolt upright and squinted toward the grandfather clock by the door.  He could not read the hands, the lamp he had lit on the fireside table having died out.  Almost afraid to look, he set down the small half-finished toy and whittling knife that he had held in his hands and fumbled in his pockets for his watch.  With a deeply frustrated groan, Hoss slumped back in his seat.  It was four fifteen in the morning.  In the warmth and dark of the room, he had gone to sleep; wasting five precious hours in which he might have finished his holiday project.  "Aw, no," he moaned.  "What am I supposed to do now?"

"What seems to be the trouble, son?"

Hoss nearly jumped out of his skin at the question, watch flying as he leapt to his feet, body tensed for action as he peered around the dim room, demanding to know, "Who's there?"

A deep merry chuckle filtered through the darkness.  "There's no need to be alarmed, Hoss.  You've known me your whole life, though it has been a while since we last met."

A strange sense of familiarity came over Hoss as he listened.  He did know that voice, low and musical, warm and filled with an undertone of laughter, but somehow he could not place it.  Following the sound, he slowly moved toward the blue chair opposite from the one he'd been sitting in.  Yes, there was someone sitting there!  An old gentleman with white hair and a full white beard, round faced and apple-cheeked with eyes as blue as Hoss' own.  He had a pipe in his hand, a blue-white tendril of fragrant vanilla-scented smoke rising from the bowl.

Mouth dropping open, Hoss fell back a step and slipped as his heel came down on the fallen pocket-watch.  As he began to fall, the old fellow was suddenly at his side, his grip strong and gentle, evidencing no strain at all as he caught the much larger man and steadied him back into the red chair.  His eyes twinkled as he dusted a bit of soot off the sleeve of Hoss' white shirt.  "My apologies.  Hazard of the job, you know.  All those chimneys"

Before he could move away, Hoss reached out and brushed his fingers over the long fur-trimmed robe of his rescuer.  It felt as soft as the finest down, the silky hairs stroking his skin with the warmest of caresses.  The old man smiled and patted him on the hand before retaking his own chair.  "Don't worry, my boy, you aren't dreaming this."

"But, but how?" he stammered.  "How can you be here?  How can you be…"

"Real?" At Hoss' nod, he chuckled. "Surely you remember the time you and your little brother snuck out of bed and caught me filling your stockings!   Been a good fifteen years, but you never gave up believing what you knew to be true, did you?"

Gulping, Hoss shook his head, surreptitiously pinching himself just to be sure.  The strength of the pinch brought a glaze of tears to his eyes, but did nothing to blur the smiling image before him.  He was glad, for he did remember. He had been nine years old; old enough to know that Santa Claus did not really exist, but still young enough to hope that he did.  It had been easy to pretend with three-year-old Little Joe around, firmly convinced that if they stayed awake and listened hard they would hear Santa's reindeer overhead on the roof.  Joe had snuck into his room to spend the night so that they could listen together.  Sure enough, toward the middle of the night there had been a soft thump, possibly nothing more than a clump of snow sliding off the shingles, but enough to have two small boys scrambling out of bed to sneak a peek downstairs.

"I thought that was Pa," Hoss admitted softly.  "All these years, I thought it was him we seen that night."

"Really?" the visitor said, amusement pulling at the deep wrinkles around his eyes.  "Isn't that why you're doing this project of yours?  Because you still believe?"  He gestured at the coffee table where tools, shavings, and dozens of wooden toys, some finished, most not, sat in rows.  Toy train cars, wooden soldiers, small wagons, and cheery little animals made the surface of the table all but invisible.  "You've done a fine thing here, my boy.  A fine thing."

"Glad somebody thinks so," Hoss grunted.  Instantly sorry for the harsh remark, his face flushed.  "I'm sorry, sir.  I didn't mean that.  They all got their own worries to think about, after all."

Blue eyes captured blue eyes and the old fellow nodded, urging him to continue.

For a long moment, Hoss said nothing.  He didn't like to complain.  It was not as though his family had deliberately turned their backs on him, after all.  "It's just-"

"Tell me," the other encouraged gently.  He saw Hoss biting his lip as he picked up the half-carved object he had been working on, turning it in his large hands.  With a nod, the old man lifted another uncompleted toy from the table and produced a sharp knife from somewhere in the folds of his robe.  He began to carve, not even looking at what he was doing as he studied Hoss' face, smiling at the look of fascination he found there as the wood in his hands began to take recognizable shape as a small boat.  "Don't look so surprised.  I've been doing this a good long time now.  Since you've been kind enough to help me out with my job this year, it's only fair that I return the favor."

Hope dawned in Hoss' eyes.  "You mean it?  But, sir, ain't you kinda busy tonight?  You probably ain't got time to be helpin' me."

At a single nod from his snowy head, the fire in the fireplace rose higher and the empty lamp on the table re-lit itself, bathing the room in a soft glow, very comfortable to work in.  Flexing a brow towards the grandfather clock, he advised, "Take a look."

To the young man's astonishment, the timepiece read four o'clock.  The last quarter hour had run backward!  "Well, I'll be dog-goned!"

The old man laughed, then his expression became suddenly serious.  "Hasn't anyone else made time for you lately, Hoss?"

Any urge he might have had to laugh at the play on words died as Hoss met that sympathetic azure gaze.  "No sir, not much.  What with the snow starting so early this year and conditions bein' so bad between here and town most days, Pa's had a lot on his mind. Adam too.  I guess I don't blame 'em much for not being happy with me spendin' all my time makin' these things."

"What about your other brother?  Surely he's encouraged you."

A soft snort answered that question.  "The minute he figured out folks in town'd pay to get these here toys for their young'uns, he ain't done nothin' but badger me to keep making more.  He ain't hardly talked to me since I told him I wasn't sellin' none of them and to leave me be."

"I see, and did you tell him why?"

He shrugged.  "Don't see why I gotta explain everything. One of them gets an idea into his head; we all just naturally pitch in to help.  Adam got one o' them actor friends of his to come to Virginia City a couple years back to raise money for the miners' widows.  I didn't ask no questions; just got out there and start putting up flyers.  Then last year Joe takes a notion to organize a Christmas pageant to build a new schoolhouse after the old one burned down.  I didn't ask him why.  Just built all the sets and let him talk me into playin' a wise man besides!  Now this year I get an idea to make toys for all them little orphans down at the Home, and suddenly my brothers 're nowhere to be found.  It ain't fair."

The boat now complete in the old man's hands, he set it aside and picked up an unfinished animal, his knife dancing in the warm glow. "And what did you say then? Did you ever ask for their help? Not everyone can read minds, you know," the kindly voice spoke, its influence calming.

Hoss' mouth jerked to one side. He reached for one of the incomplete toys but drew his hand back before he touched it.  "It don't make no never mind," he moaned. "There ain't time to finish none of this for them kids. And I tried, didn't I?"

"Will the children see that? That you tried?"

"Guess not," Hoss' eyes dropped to the floor, unable to bear the steady gaze of his visitor another moment. It wasn't as if the old gent was blaming him for something. No, instead Hoss felt like he had let someone down in a momentous way.

"Hoss, do you remember the Christmas that you were fourteen? The weather was ferocious that year! Snow up to my reindeers' noses! And cold! Oh my goodness, was it ever cold. My words froze the moment they passed my lips!"  He chuckled at his own joke but Hoss couldn't find it in his heart to laugh. "But that year, despite all the hardships of the year for your father, you wanted a new saddle. That was all that was on your list that year."

"I 'member."  Hoss' head hung down a little further."And I 'member how sad Pa was. Gave me a new rope and some other stuff but there weren't a saddle under the tree for me. Pa tried, I know he did, but things had been hard that year. Adam had gone off to college and I know that cost plenty. Joe had been sick all winter long with one thing 'er another so there was doctor bills too."

"Yes, that was the Christmas, and your father tried very hard but it just wasn't to be. Tell me, how did you feel that Christmas morning when you realized you weren't going to get the saddle you wanted?"

"Kinda felt…don't know what to call it 'ceptin' I was sad and felt like no body really loved me. Silly, 'cause I know Pa and Joe loved me. Adam too! He wrote to me and let me know ever' chance he got.  But that mornin'…" Hoss' voice trailed off into the shadows, then he burst out, "That's why I been workin' so hard at this! Tryin' to get these toys finished so those kids at the orphanage would know that someone somewhere loved 'em; and cared enough to give them a little somethin' for Christmas!"

Across from him, the red-robed gentleman smiled gently and with a whisk of his gloved fingers, laid down another finished toy, a small wooden dog with his ears erect and his tiny tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Even from where Hoss sat, he could see the exquisite details worked into the wood and felt a twinge of envy. Leaning forward, Hoss picked up his knife and began again to carve on the half-finished wagon in his hands. For several long moments, there was only the sound of pitch popping in the flames and the pleasing and soothing fragrance of the visitor's pipe smoke.

"What's on your list this year, Hoss?"

His cheeks reddening with embarrassment, Hoss shook his head. "Kind of quit doin' that sort of thing a few years ago. Thought that it was just for kids, ya know?"

"Why would it be just for children? Adults, no matter what their age, have wants and desires too! If you could have anything in the world for Christmas, what would it be?"

Hoss didn't need to think. "More time. Just a little more time so I could get these toys finished for them kids, and if I had to rope an' hog-tie my brothers into helpin' me get it down, so help me I would!"

"Wouldn't it be easier just to ask them to help you?"

His face pulled to one side and the tip of his tongue held tight to his lip in concentration, Hoss nodded his head. "'Suppose, but I ain't sure askin' would get any different reaction from 'em."

"Would it hurt to try?" 

The question was gentle, but Hoss blushed just the same, feeling the reproach.  He sighed deeply.  "I don't know, but it's too late to make any difference now anyway, ain't it?"

"What?  Too late for what?  Hoss, you been down here all night?"

Hoss' head jerked up, eyes popping open to find his father leaning over him.  For a split second he would have sworn he saw a beard adorning his father's face, but a quick rub of his bleary eyes revealed no beard; just an expression of concern and the slightest irritation.  Looking into those dark eyes, Hoss felt a little dizzy and even more confused as he sat up straight and quickly assessed his whereabouts.  He still sat in the red leather chair by the fire but there was no sign that a visitor had ever occupied the blue one opposite.  What was worse, the sunlight beaming wispily through his father's study window and the smell of bacon in the air revealed that it was morning.  The hands of the grandfather clock confirmed it, showing him it was a little before eight.  His shoulders slumped under his father's hand. It had all been a dream and he had slept away the precious moments he needed to bring joy into some child's life.

"Dagnabit," Hoss muttered. "There for just a bit, I thought I could do it. Now them kids are gonna wake up this morning and find nuthin' at all in their little stockin's."

The irritation faded, leaving only the concern in Ben's face as his hand went from Hoss' broad shoulder to his forehead.  "No fever," he remarked. Gesturing toward the haphazard rows of wooden figures he decided, "Son, you have been working much too hard on this, this; whatever it is. From what I can see, you've done an awful lot in the last day or two but I think it's time you set this project of yours aside and got yourself some rest." 

"But, Pa, I can't!  Today's Christmas!"

Ben chuckled shortly. "Last time I checked, Christmas was set to fall on the twenty-fifth.  Today is only the twenty-fourth!"

Bewildered, Hoss looked up into his father's earnest face. "You sure?"

"Positive."

His mind awhirl, Hoss sprang to his feet, rubbed his hands together and exclaimed: "Hot diggity!"

    The gleeful bellow rang through the air, bringing a curious expression to the face of the young man descending the staircase, rolling up his sleeves as he walked.  "What's up, brother?  You just find out Hop Sing's makin' flapjacks or something?"

Face alight with joy, Hoss jumped up and grabbed him by the arm, levering him forward to take a look at the toys scattered haphazardly over the table.  "Santa done granted my wish, Joe.  Look!"

"Santa?"  A slightly worried look flickered over Joe's features and he copied his father's gesture of a moment ago and checked for fever.  "You feelin' all right?  Getting enough sleep and everything?"

"I don't think he got any sleep," Ben said reprovingly.  "Your brother spent the whole night sitting in that chair carving on those toys.  Again!  Hoss, this little hobby of yours has gone just about far enough, and I-"

Disgust filling his voice, Joe cut in, "Aw, Hoss, you didn't!  I know you like making these things and all, but don't you think enough is enough?"

Hoss scowled, his mood quickly darkening again.  "I mighta known you'd say that, but I'm gonna get ever' last one of them toys finished up before tomorrow morning, whether you like it or not!"

"Tomorrow?" Joe said blankly.  "But, I thought you said you didn't want to get rid of any of them.  You change your mind and decide to sell some for Christmas presents?"

With that question, Hoss heard again the words from the old toymaker. 'Did you ever ask for their help? Not everyone can read minds, you know.'   "I guess I never did tell you, did I?" he drawled slowly. "I ain't selling these toys, Joe, and it ain't just some hobby I got neither, Pa.  They're for the orphan's home.  I got a list from the matron down there of every little boy and girl in the place, and I been trying to make enough toys to give every one of them a little something from Santa."

He braced himself as Joe's face crinkled up into a grin, expecting him to start giggling over the idea of his big brother playing Santa Claus.  Instead, Joe picked up a toy and said, "That's a great idea!  Why didn't you say something before, instead of letting me get all sore at you over nothing?  Need any help?"

"Help?" Hoss repeated, eyes bulging with surprise.  "You serious?"

Joe's grin dimmed a little as he added defensively, "Look, maybe I'm not the woodcarver you are, but I think I can do well enough to put together a couple of wagons!  Or maybe I could paint 'em.  Don't you think these here boats and train cars would look better with a little color?"

Astonishment growing, Hoss realized that Joe was not only sincere in his offer; he was actually wheedling, trying to talk him into accepting help!  "Guess I owe you an apology, Joe," he told him, chagrined.  "I didn't figure you'd want to waste all your time with this when you got your own Christmas projects need doin'.  I'd be glad to have ya."

Slapping him on his barrel chest, Joe fairly beamed.  "Waste, nothin!  I got all my shopping done ages ago, and I've been just about bored to death looking for something different to do after that last snowfall." In one smooth motion, he sat down cross-legged right on the floor and began examining toys to see which ones needed the most work.  "Hey, how you figuring on getting these things to town anyway?  The road's still a little rough for the wagon and you can't get all this on a horse."

"We'll use the sleigh of course," Ben decided, as he took a seat in his usual chair and picked up a wooden horse and the discarded whittling knife.  "Don't have any reindeer handy, but I think the horses will do."

Hoss gaped at him.  "Pa?  You helpin' too?"

Eloquent eyebrows raised above twinkling dark eyes.  "Well, every Santa needs elves, doesn't he?"

"Elves?" came the sarcastic drawl from the landing. Shaking his head, Adam slowly descended and came to stand behind Joe on the floor. Nudging Joe in the center of his back with one knee, he added, "Thought the only elf we had here was this one!  I don't see your pointed-toed shoes, Joe. Where'd you leave them? Over at Santa's house?"

Joe looked up at Adam and scowled.  The choice was clear: let Adam ride his case for a while or come back with a quick rejoinder that would likely start bad feelings--again. In the spirit of the season, Joe decided to let it pass so he merely followed his scowl with a grin before returning to his wagon. "And a merry Christmas to you too big brother!"

Hoss watched the by-play between the two and inwardly sighed a sigh of relief. Nothing could be worse than being snowed in with Adam and Joe when they were on the warpath with each other. But Joe had let it pass and Hoss saw that it threw Adam. And we think Joe is the ornery one, all the time pickin' fights. Guess he come by it honest, learnin' from his brothers. Hoss watched them from the corner of one eye, hoping for more than just a lull in the action. He was delighted when Adam stretched and headed for the kitchen table.

"Breakfast is on," Adam announced, but turning back saw that his family seemed too engrossed in Hoss' carvings to care that there was food on the table. And for gosh sake, Pa had even taken up a piece of wood and was whittling away on something! Clearing his throat loudly to gain their attention, Adam repeated himself.

"Why don't you just bring me some coffee, son?" Ben asked, scrutinizing the developing cow beneath his knife.

Adam craned his neck a bit, looking toward the kitchen.  He puffed out a relieved breath when Hop Sing did not appear, shouting out in anger that three-quarters of the family weren't sitting down at the breakfast table, and declaring his intention to immediately start packing for a return trip to China. Pouring coffee into his father's cup, Adam slipped to his father's side and set the cup down on the low table before him, casting another curious glance over the proceedings.

Ben muttered his thanks and went on with his carving, paying no attention whatsoever to anything else.

Hoss inwardly sighed when Adam, shoulders hunched forward, went back to the dining room and proceeded to fill his plate with several flapjacks.  He had seen that interested glance and for a moment, he had thought Adam was about to sit down and join them. Guess he ain't going to get into the project without a nudge, but nudging Adam can be a lot like nudging a cactus! Maybe I should just let him have some breakfast and work his way into it gradual like.

Without realizing his every move was being scrutinized, Adam poured himself some coffee and, trying to pretend that what was going on before the fire was commonplace, went about eating.  For the better part of ten minutes he ate slowly, trying to pretend he was not listening to his family, but their comments about how cute some little something was or how something needed a dot of color pulled at his attention.

"Anyone done chores this morning?" he asked sardonically, wiping his mouth and turning in his chair. "Probably not," he muttered when they all seemed to ignore him. "Okay then, I'll go feed the stock but I know two brothers who are going to owe me!"

Again, no one answered, and put out, Adam rose from his place and went to the door, snagging his heavy coat.

Dagnabit! Hoss thought, I guess I am just gonna have to be blunt with him-

"Adam, son," Ben called out just before Adam would have opened the door to leave, jolting Hoss from his thoughts. "I think there is some fine twine in the barn. Over by the feed sacks. Bring it in with you when you come back, would you? And there's some old leather straps in the harness room that are just too short for much of anything. Bring them too. We can split them and make fine little bridles and reins, don't you think, Hoss?"

Hoss near about busted a gut trying not to laugh at the expression on Adam's face. One look at it and you could tell that Adam thought the whole family had gone crazy on him!  Hoss made a mental note to thank Pa later, figuring that this was Pa's way of telling Adam that his help was needed.

By the time Adam returned, Hop Sing had joined into the activities around the fireplace. With delicate brushes no more than a few hairs wide, he and Joe were painting faces, eyes, lips and accents on the animals, wagons, boats, locomotives and train cars spread before them. Ben was busily carving on something new while Hoss, his huge hands completely engulfing what they held, was sanding down a rough edge. Adam shrugged out of his coat then took the twine and leather into the workshop that had sprung up around the low table.

Come on, big brother, Hoss crooned silently to himself.  The look on your face, standin' there pouring your coffee like you don't care what's happening, already done give you away, even if you don't think any of us saw it.  You feel left out, and it bothers you. Why?  Just 'cause the rest of the family is so caught up in what we're doing you think we all forgot you was there?  Well, come on then, there is only one thing for you to do! Hoss' heart slumped when Adam turned from the living room.

Adam went into the kitchen and loaded a tray with the coffee decanter and cups, a pot of Hop Sing's strawberry jam and the hot biscuits the cook had obviously forgotten about. Snatching a knife, he deftly manhandled the tray through the door and into the main room. Gently shoving Joe aside with a boot toe, he gained access to the table and set his burden down. He dropped down beside Hoss on the settee and took the tiny wooden boat and sandpaper from his brother's hands.

For a few moments, there was silence in the room. No one moved. No one spoke, but all were looking at Adam.  At long last he grinned, the last of his act of aloof disinterest disappearing as he asked, "Okay, so where do I sign up to get curly-toed slippers with jingle bells on them?"

Hot diggity! And I didn't have to push him into it, neither! Hoss thought, picking up a block of wood destined to be another toy.

Joe chortled, rocking back on his rump as the rest of the family greeted the newest helper with grins and slaps on the back.  "I'll put 'em on your Christmas list and see if Santa brings you a pair, now that you've decided to be a good boy like the rest of us," he told Adam merrily.  Then, as if reminded by the comment, the youngest Cartwright's eyes widened and he jumped up from the floor, nearly upsetting the toys Hop Sing had carefully set aside to let the paint dry.  The cook scowled and shook a finger at him in reproach for the near-mishap but Joe was oblivious as he laid a congenial hand upon the cook's shoulder and asked, "Hop Sing, you still got any of that fancy Chinese paper your cousin sent you?  The long skinny stuff, remember?"

Bewildered, the little man nodded.  "Fine rice paper for special, important messages to family," he clarified.

"That's it," Joe agreed happily.  "Can I have some?  About a yard or so?"

Hop Sing's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  "Paper very delicate, Little Joe.  No good for you.  Why you want it for?"

The rest of the family was looking at him with equal curiosity and the young man grinned at them.  "I assume you're gonna deliver those toys dressed as Santa, right, Hoss?"  His brother nodded, exchanging a confused look with Adam.  Joe gave them a pointed stare, waiting for somebody to catch on, and when no one did he asked in complete exasperation, "How does Saint Nick know which boys and girls were good enough during the year to get toys?"

Adam's deep chuckle and nod earned him a beaming smile from his little brother.  "Of course.  He checks his list!"   

Ben was grinning by now as well.  "You did say that you'd gotten a list of all the children at the orphanage, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Joe went on before Hoss could answer, "and just think how much more impressive it'll be if you whip out that list of names written on a long curly sheet of Hop Sing's special paper!  Adam can write all the names down in that pretty, squiggly writing he uses to scribble poetry with."

"Calligraphy," Adam said dryly.  Turning to Hoss he added, "I think it's a good idea.  That is, if Hop Sing is willing to sacrifice the material to do it."

Head bobbing excitedly, Hop Sing seemed to be fairly bursting with delight.  "Very good.  I get paper and special ink out right away!  Make many happy children tomorrow!"

"Excellent," Ben enthused.  "Don't forget, we'll need tags as well, otherwise how is 'Santa' going to know which girl or boy his gifts belong to?  I've some stiff white stationery that should do nicely if we cut it up and draw some string through the pieces."

"I help you, Mister Ben," Hop Sing offered, voice disappearing into the kitchen as he added, "Then Hop Sing make up special big batch of cake and cookie to give away with gifts!"

A strange choked-up feeling came over Hoss as he watched his family happily bustling about the house and he was forced to cough away the lump in his throat before he could loudly tease them with, "Hey, ain't you all forgettin' something?"  Four pairs of eyes focused on him.  Laughing, he told them, "We ain't gonna need a bunch of tags and things if we don't get all these here toys finished up first.  C'mon back here and finish what you started!"

Guilty grins flashed over their faces.  "Guess we did kinda leave you to do the real work," Joe apologized, retaking his seat on the floor and picking up his paintbrush again.  "Sorry about that, brother."

"Aw, that's all right.  I appreciate everything you're all doin'."  That warm swelling filled his chest again as he looked from face to face, realizing how wrong he had been about them.  "I want to thank you."

Ben cupped his son's tawny head in passing as he moved back to his own spot.  "It's a fine thing you're doing, son.  A fine thing."

Hoss' eyes narrowed, remembering that he had heard those very words the night before in his dream.  Had it been a dream?  Shaking off the strangeness of it, Hoss bent his head once more to the task at hand.

After a long day spent carving, painting, buffing and oh-so-carefully writing each orphan child's name in perfect script on the delicate length of paper, the Cartwrights were a tired, stiff, and extremely satisfied group. Other than a quick trip outside to do the evening chores, no one had even considered leaving until everything was done.  Hop Sing had alternated his duties as Santa's helper with his duties as Ponderosa cook, keeping everyone supplied with coffee, sandwiches and cookies as the hours slipped by.  Now he stood with the rest of them, gazing proudly down on row after row of beautiful handmade toys. 

For a long while, nobody said anything.  Then Hoss gave a prodigious yawn, breaking the mood of subtle awe which had surrounded everyone, causing them to burst into laughter.  Ben laid a warm hand on his shoulder.  "I think you'd best go on up to bed.  You hardly slept at all last night and you're going to need an early start to get into town and deliver those toys to the children tomorrow morning."

Hoss took a long stretch, groaning softly as his tired body creaked and popped.  "Yeah, guess you're right, Pa.  Think I will head up."

"Me, too," Joe told them.  "It won't be easy getting through all that snow.  We'd best head out at first light."

"We?" Hoss asked blankly.

Adam clapped him on the back.  "Of course, we!  You'll need somebody to help you load up and to make sure your costume looks all right before you go in."

At Adam's somewhat lame excuse, offered with a sparkling eye and knowing smile, Hoss chuckled.  "Reckon you boys are as anxious as I am to see them little orphan's faces tomorrow, ain't you?"

"I'd kinda like to see that sight myself," Ben told him.  "We'll all go!"

Turning to the cook at his side, Hoss asked, "You too, Hop Sing?"

With an enigmatic look, the small cook told him, "Someone have to bring basket of good food for little children.  Hop Sing no go, Mr. Hoss eat all the Christmas cookie!"

And so the next morning, the family sleigh loaded with Santa Hoss and his four elves, a bag stuffed with toys, and baskets of cookies and tarts, headed for Virginia City well before dawn. Bedecked with pine bows, ribbons and bells the sleigh flew over the pristine white snow that morning, It didn’t need the four-horse team to pull it but, as Joe had quipped smartly to his father, they didn't have an eight-horse harness. At first, crawling into the front seat to drive, Ben scowled but when Hop Sing clambered up beside him and handed him a warm brick wrapped in flannel for his feet, Ben smiled and thanked the man for his thoughtfulness. He also noted that Hop Sing had one for himself as well.  Craning his neck back to check the floor of the sleigh, he asked if Hop Sing had brought any more for the boys, who were presently clambering into the second seat of the sleigh.

Hop Sing shook his head and smiled. "They like little boys this morning. All happy and playful. You know any little boy who complain about cold feet when playing?" 

The 'little boys' in question all made faces at his comment, Adam playfully lobbing a small handful of snow toward the front seat, having scooped it up unseen as they made their way to the barn.  Surprise registered in Ben's face at the playful gesture by his eldest, then he grinned.  Hop Sing was right and he could not deny that he was feeling a bit boy-like this morning as well.

Throughout the long journey into town, the grumblings about lost sleep and how cold it was were all taken in stride.  They were all feeling too good about their mission to complain much anyway. Every once in a while, Hop Sing would turn a sharp eye to the three men behind him and the box that sat on the floor at Joe's feet, but only once did he catch them chewing.  The guilty look on Hoss' face gave him away as the cookie-thief, even if the trail of white sugar down the front of his Santa costume did not.

Hoss nervously pulled at his robe, which the afternoon before had been drapes in a spare bedroom. He didn't want to know where Hop Sing had come up with the white fur to close the sleeves and make the collar. It had all the markings of some rabbits he had personally known at one time but he tried hard to not recognize the lush fur. The whole ensemble was completed with one of his own broad black belts and a hat rimmed with white fur that Hop Sing had labored over far into the night. If the kids didn't look too hard, Hoss thought he might pass as the real thing but, having seen the real Santa, he knew he was a poor imitation at best.

The orphanage sat on the outskirts of town and while it was still dark outside when the sleigh pulled up out front, there was not a dark window in the place. Grabbing up his bag of toys, Hoss leapt from the sleigh and would have gone barging in if Adam hadn't stopped him to check his costume.

"I look okay?" Hoss questioned, settling his white rabbit fur beard on his face.

"Perfect," Adam beamed and Joe slapped his shoulder.

"Son," Ben's single word stopped Hoss. "I'm proud of you."

Hoss, his head bobbing, was unable to say a word.

Inside the main room of the orphanage, Hoss was surprised to see the children waiting for him. At first awestruck by their shining, expectant faces, he couldn't even belt out a good "ho, ho, ho!" even though on the ride in he and his brothers had practiced it numerous times. But then a little girl, no more than four or five years old, approached him. Looking down into her wide brown eyes, Hoss remembered what this was all about. When he called "Ho, ho, ho!" she smiled and led him to the rocking chair beside the large fireplace.

He pulled out the list with a grand flourish and as he read down his list, each child came to sit on his knee. It wasn't long before Hoss began to feel like Santa Claus, even though he kept getting reminders in the form of two brothers he saw peeking through the kitchen door on several occasions. When he got to the end of the list and his bag was empty, Hoss felt saddened. It was over. So quickly, it was all over. True, as he watched, the children played with the toys he and his family had made. They were happy children. For right then at that moment they were happy. Forcing another ho, ho, ho out, Hoss had to leave before his feelings overwhelmed him.

He stopped on the far side of the sleigh where he was sure no one looking out the brightly-lit windows would see him. Hoss yanked off his beard and the funny hat and ran a gloved hand over his face.

"You did well, son," the voice next to him said.

Hoss felt a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. He looked up, half expecting to see his father but it wasn't him. Instead, it was his early morning visitor, his head wreathed in pipe smoke and his blue eyes filled with pride. For a moment, Hoss let that pride fill him with the joy of his accomplishment, then another glance back at the drab little building brought the sadness back.  "No, sir, I didn't do well. Them young'uns in there-"

"Are happy!" the old man interrupted.

"For today! For today, they got a silly little toy and some sweets to eat. But what about tomorrow? Tomorrow they go back to bein' kids no body thinks about! No sir, I didn't do well." For emphasis, Hoss pounded the side of the sleigh.

The other man's smile dropped away and Hoss thought he saw a tear trickle down the ruddy cheek. "You are right, but only in part. Tomorrow the cookies and tarts and the like will be gone, true, but what you have given those children will go on forever. Remember what you told your family?  You wanted each of these lost children to know, just for one day, that he or she was loved.  Look Hoss."

Following his companion's urging, Hoss peered into the window at the children, some happily playing with their toys, others devouring sweets, and a few simply sitting and looking happier than he had ever seen them.  A tender smile drifted over his lips as he watched them and the old man nodded, patting him on the back.  "You see, my boy? You have given of yourself. Some day in the far away future, one of those children will look at that simple little wooden toy you made and know that, for at least a little while when he or she was a child, they were loved."

Hoss looked at his feet, ashamed and proud at the same time. He had done what he set out to do after all. He raised his head to say something to his visitor but found his father there instead.

"You did well, son," Ben spoke the words proudly, patting the brawny shoulder beside him.

Hoss smiled but had a hard time not letting a tear fall.

"Hey come on! Let's get home," Joe hooted as he climbed between his father and Hoss to get into the sleigh and under the buffalo robe.  He winked at Hoss.  "I want to find out what Santa left for us!"

"Why? Santa only leaves toys for good little boys and as far as I know, you haven't been the best young'un this year!" Adam quipped, climbing in the other side.

"Sure I have!  I haven't gotten in any trouble at all.  Lately."  Somehow, Joe managed to keep a straight face as he said this, but at the incredulous snorts of the other four he could not hold back a laugh, which quickly spread to the rest of the family.

With his brothers' good-natured banter filling his ears, Hoss shook his head and climbed in beside them. With his father once again taking up the reins and Hop Sing giving him directions to hurry up, they headed for home. As the crisp still air became filled with the sounds of clopping hooves, whizzing runners passing over the smooth snow, and carols both boisterous and tender, Hoss felt truly blessed.  There were gifts waiting there beneath the tree, but Hoss felt as though he had already had been given his present.

Later on, as they were trudging across the yard and headed into the house, Hoss felt something hard inside his robe. Puzzled, he pulled it out. There in his broad palm was the tiny dog that his visitor had carved, one paw raised and its tongue lolling off to one side. At first Hoss was dismayed, thinking a child had been shorted.  Then he looked at the tag tied around its neck. "To Hoss. Love Santa," he mumbled and harrumped. He was about to say something to his father's back when he heard it. Very faintly, as though from a far distant mountaintop, he heard it: the sound of sleighbells.