In The Barn on Christmas Eve

By Sheryl

Story notes: I had just sat down to write a sweet little scene of the boys hoping to hear the animals talk on Christmas Eve when the Barnes & Noble lady called to tell me the book I ordered was in: Across the Plains in the Donner Party, by Virginia Reed. The timeframe of the story is December 1846, and it’s based on details given in the Ponderosa episode Secrets and Lies, as well as details I’ve read from accounts of the Donner party, and the explorer John C. Fremont.

Thanks for all your help Laura!

Joe Cartwright felt a thrill of anticipation flutter through his stomach. This annual ritual and its expectation almost succeeded in allowing him to ignore the overwhelming emptiness he’d been feeling . . .almost.

Outside, the wind was blowing fiercely, rattling the windows and whistling through the rafters of the barn. Inside it was warm and dry. The glow of the lantern, the familiar scents of hay and livestock made him feel safe, comforted. He still missed his pa something awful, but sitting in the barn on Christmas Eve gave him a sense of peace and somehow made him feel closer to his pa. It gave him a tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe his pa would be home when he woke up Christmas morning.

Maybe his ma would be well, and his pa would be home and everything would be the way it was supposed to be on Christmas.

Closing his eyes, he let the outside world and all its anxieties fade away as he listened carefully to the sounds inside the barn -- for anything that was out of the ordinary. Not for the first time, he wondered what the animals would say if they could talk and as he speculated on the possibilities, his thoughts carried him back to another barn in New Orleans, and the warm, happy memories of Christmas past.

~ ~ * * ~ ~

Joe tried as hard as he could to sit still, but his backside was starting to tingle and his legs just seemed to have a mind of their own. He ran his fingers over a pebble on the ground beside him, rolling it around, making trails in the dirt until he caught sight of a spider scurrying toward the wall. "Gotchya!" He slapped his hand down, squishing the spider. With a satisfied smile, he wiped the guts on his pant leg and looked up at his brothers. "What?"

"Little Joe, you have to sit still," Adam patiently reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"There was a spider," he explained, figuring that since Adam was sitting on the other side of Erik, he probably missed the spider.

Erik rolled his eyes. "It was just an itty bitty lil’ thing, wasn’t gonna hurt you none."

"Coulda been poisonous." Joe shrugged, looking around him for something else to keep him occupied while they were sitting quietly waiting for the animals to talk. Every year he and his brothers would sit in the barn on Christmas Eve, hoping to hear the animals talk like they did in the story their pa told. So far none of them had actually heard the animals say anything. Erik claimed he could understand their language though, but Joe didn’t think that counted.

"Why don’t you sit here," Adam suggested kindly, scooting over to make room for their little brother between them. "We’ll keep you safe from the scary spiders." He winked at Erik.

"I wasn’t scared." Joe frowned, but climbed over Erik’s legs and plopped down between the older boys. He wiggled and shifted, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. Every year he forgot that the ground was so dang hard. How could they expect a fella to sit still for so long, especially when there was hay poking him in the behind? Rolling to one hip, he swiped at the seat of his pants.

"Need some help?" Erik asked with a wicked grin.

"No!"

"So, how’s it coming?"

All three boys looked up at the sound of their father’s voice. Joe launched himself off the floor and into his pa’s arms. "Pa!"

"Well, the animals could have been singing ‘O Holy Night’ and I doubt we’d have even heard them." Adam raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly but with amusement at the youngest.

Ben grinned giving his youngest son a wink. "Is that right, Little Joe?"

"I didn’t hear a thing, Pa. But the floor’s awful hard," he replied, rubbing absently at his backside.

Ben settled himself on the ground between Erik and Adam, tucking Joe into his lap. "Is this better?"

"Yeah," Joe said with a grin. "Hey, Pa?"

"Yes, son." Ben tried unsuccessfully to look serious.

"What do ya reckon the animals would say if they could talk?"

"Hmm . . ." Ben rubbed a thumb over his chin thoughtfully.

"I can tell ya right now that ole mule over yonder is sayin’, ‘Who in tarnation let that gabby little thing into our barn?’" Erik offered. The mule actually turned its head, its dark eyes coming to rest on Erik for a moment before it went back to chewing its feed. "And the big black over there is tellin’ his friend in the next stall that he can’t even hear his self think."

"Nuh-uh." Joe gave his brother the evil eye. He woulda slugged him, but Pa was right there.

"Well, I’m not sure what they’d say now," Ben answered more seriously, "but on the first Christmas, it’s said that they used their ability of speech to worship the newborn baby Jesus."

"Worship? Ya mean like singin’ hymns at church?"

"Maybe."

Joe yawned, blinking sleepily. "Or maybe they said the same thing the angels said, ‘Glory Hallelujah’."

"I’ll bet they did," Ben answered in a soft voice, dropping a kiss on top of Joe’s curls.

Warm and comfortable on his pa’s lap, Joe was feeling more and more drowsy. He yawned then twisted around and rubbed at his eyes, trying to stay alert, but his father whispered, "Shhh . . .." and wrapped his arms more securely around Joe. "If you close your eyes you’ll be able to hear better," he said softly into Joe’s ear.

So Joe closed his eyes.

~ ~ * * ~ ~

Adam entered the livery stable and looked around, relief flooding through him when he spotted the small figure curled up against a pile of straw in the corner. He felt a pang of guilt when he realized that he’d again fallen short of the role he was trying so hard to succeed at.

For as long as Adam could remember, it had been his responsibility to distract his two younger brothers on Christmas Eve, while their parents filled the stockings and took care of whatever other last minute details they needed to get done while the children were preoccupied.

Erik no longer believed in Saint Nick, but Little Joe did and Adam felt terrible for having forgotten this cherished tradition. He’d been so busy with chores, helping out the Orowitzes, and making sure his brothers kept up with their lessons, and so worried about his pa’s safety and his ma’s health that he hadn’t even thought about Saint Nick.

Perhaps this year more than ever his little brother had needed to feel the hope and wonder of Christmas -- had needed to be reassured that the world was not completely out of control.

Packing up everything you owned, saying goodbye to everything you knew and setting out on a treacherous journey across the country was enough to make the most sturdy of men feel somewhat out of control, so it wasn’t hard to imagine what that might feel like to an eight-year-old. Having his mother ill, and his father away and his older brothers too busy to pay him proper attention -- well, just the thought of it all was making Adam’s chest ache.

When they’d come to Eagle Station, they’d made a decision to stay there for the winter. Crossing the Sierras would be a dangerous endeavor, and they didn’t want to take any chances with Marie expecting a child.

They’d all felt relieved at being given a break from their travels, although Pa had gone on to San Francisco to let his brother John know of their circumstances and that they would be staying in Eagle Station until spring. He’d left in October, and at the time they’d thought for sure he’d be back well before Thanksgiving, but the snows had come early that year and before November had even arrived, the Indians were saying that the mountains were already impassable. "Tah-ve," they’d said. Big snow.

Before their pa had left, they had all agreed that this was the most beautiful place they’d ever laid eyes upon. Adam hadn’t traveled to as many places as his pa, but he couldn’t imagine that there could be another place in the whole world as glorious as this. Majestic, snow capped mountains, trees – so many trees -- that seemed to touch the sky, and the most wondrous, breathtaking, deep blue mountain lake. "Tah-hoe."

Earlier in the day when he’d been working for the Orowitzes, Mr. Devereaux and a mountain man named Big Dan Larssen had stopped by to get some supplies. Mr. Larssen had told them that there had been so much snow in the mountains that if spring came right then, there would still be no making it through the pass for at least a month. He said most likely Pa was at Sutter’s Fort waiting for first hand account that the pass was . . . well, passable.

Adam shook his head, trying to shake away the disappointment he felt. He needed to think about his family, his little brothers. He needed to be the grown up, now more than ever. Kneeling down beside his brother, he touched his shoulder and whispered, "Joe?"

He looked closer, noticing the contented smile on the little freckled face, and wondered what his little brother was dreaming about. Being that it was Christmas Eve and he was in the barn, Adam had a pretty good idea. There was no way he wanted to disturb his brothers dreams, so instead Adam carefully picked the small boy up, cradling him in his arms and made his way toward the door.

"Pa?" Joe mumbled, then turned his face and snuggled into Adam’s shoulder.

"Shhh . . ." Adam whispered into his ear as he carried his sleeping brother out of the barn and back toward the boarding rooms. He missed his pa more than he ever remembered missing him before, and it gave him such an empty ache inside that he felt like crying. Instead, he silently vowed to his father that he would do the best he could to fill his shoes, to be the man his father was expecting him to be in his absence. That included taking time for the little things, because somehow, no matter how busy or overworked Ben Cartwright ever was, he always managed to make time for his family, for his boys.

It was the only gift he’d be able to give his father that year, but he couldn’t think of anything his pa would want more. "Wherever you are, Pa," Adam said, looking out at the foreboding, gray clouds that swirled against the dark, western horizon, "Merry Christmas."

The End