Wise Men
By Sheryl
Adam Cartwright set the last bag of feed on the
ground next to their rig and
brushed the burlap fibers from his black vest and pants.
"I'll head over to
the mercantile and let Pa know we're finished," he said to
his brother Hoss,
leaving him to load the few remaining supplies.
"Okay, I'll meet ya down there in a couple minutes,"
Hoss called out to his
older brother who'd started across the street.
As Adam approached the store, he spotted his youngest brother
just outside
the entrance, talking with a boy he hadn't seen around before.
"Hey Little
Joe," he said, pausing to greet the boys. "Who's your
new friend?"
"Hi Adam! This here's Sean." Sean took the stick of
candy out of his mouth
with one dirty hand and held out the other to shake with Adam.
"Nice to meet you, Sean." Adam smiled and shook the
boy's hand, wondering
how on Earth he'd managed to get so filthy. He glanced at his
little brother
and was thankful for Joe's sake that he wasn't in the same
condition. "Pa
inside?" Adam tilted his head toward the mercantile.
"Yep, he's still talkin' Mr. Orowitz." Joe looked up at
his brother and held
out a small sack of peppermint sticks. "Want one?"
"Oh, no thanks," Adam said, smiling fondly as he opened
the door. "If I were
you I'd hide that, though. Hoss ought to be along any time
now."
Joe looked around for his middle brother then hurriedly stuffed
the sack
into his coat pocket as Adam went inside.
Sean crunched up the candy as if he was starved. "You want
another?" asked
Joe. His pa had bought him five sticks, which would usually last
him all
week, but he was happy to share with his new friend. Pa was
always tellin'
them they should share and that was one of Pa's lessons that Joe
found easy
to follow. Just as he pulled the sack out of his pocket to offer
the boy
another stick, he felt a strong hand grip his arm. As he was
tugged
backward, the sack dropped to the ground and pieces of now broken
candy went
scattering everywhere.
"You best get outta here, boy!" Big Dan Larsson
hollered, pointing a finger
at Sean.
"But, Mr. Larsson...." Joe tried to protest.
"Go on, get!"
With terrified eyes, the boy backed away slowly, then turned and
darted off
around a building.
"What in the world is going on?" Ben Cartwright asked,
rushing outside to
pull his boy from Dan's firm grip.
Big Dan was still frowning in the direction the boy had run off.
"That kid
is bad news."
"What kid?" Ben asked, obviously bewildered.
"That kid Little Joe was just talkin' to," Larsson
pointed in the direction
the boy had just gone. "He done killed all the folks in his
own wagon train
and a whole camp of Indians."
"That little boy?" Ben practically shouted in
disbelief. He'd seen the
small, red-haired boy and although he was a little
scruffy-looking, Ben
couldn't believe he was capable of killing anyone. He wasn't any
older than
Little Joe.
"They say he was found by a tribe of Washoe. His ma and pa,
everyone in his
camp was dead, 'cept him. The Indians took him in bein' he was
all alone and
shortly after they started dyin' off too. The whole tribe of
'em."
"Dying of what?"
"The fever," answered Dan, as if that explained
everything.
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose like he always did when he
felt a
headache coming on. "The fever?"
"Yep," Dan nodded. "The boy's cursed. They say
anyone he gets close to ends
up dead."
"Oh, come on," Ben laughed. "That's ridiculous.
He's just a little boy."
"Maybe so, but facts is facts."
"Facts?" Ben gaped at him incredulously. "What
facts?"
"What d'ya mean what facts?" Dan frowned, tilting his
head and looking at
Ben as if he had just sprouted antlers.
"Explain to me how," Ben spoke slowly, "a bout of
fever going around has
anything to do with that little boy."
"Well...." Dan's frown deepened. "All's I know is
that the Indians call him
Walking Death."
Ben looked at Adam who rolled his eyes. They both knew it was
useless trying
to reason with Dan Larsson at the best of times. "Come on,
boys," he said,
thankful to see Hoss coming their way. Ben laid a hand on the
back of Joe's
neck, gave it a squeeze and guided him toward their wagon.
Big Dan stared after them, miffed that Ben hadn't seemed the
least bit
grateful that he'd just saved Little Joe's life.
"Pa?" Joe questioned when they were closer to the
wagon.. "Is it true what
Mr. Larsson said?"
"No, son, I don't believe in curses," he said boosting
Joe up into the seat.
"I'm not sure exactly what sickness might have caused those
deaths, but I'm
fairly certain it wasn't any fault of that boy's."
Adam climbed onto his horse and happened to look over his
shoulder in time
to see the boy scurry across the walk and pick up the salvageable
pieces of
Joe's candy then take off again. Poor kid.
_ _ _ _
"Little Joe?" Hop Sing repeated, trying to get the
boy's attention. But
Little Joe kept looking away, distracted by the noises he kept
hearing in
the brush nearby. Suddenly a large deer stepped gracefully
out from behind
the bushes, looked Joe squarely in the eye then turned and loped
off into
the woods.
"Did ya see that?" Joe asked excitedly, tugging on the
oriental man's sleeve
and pointing. "Did ya see that buck, Hop Sing?"
"You must be sure to pick only this mushroom," Hop Sing
continued
instructing, as if a great big ol' buck hadn't just been standing
a few feet
away. "This one here," he pointed to a similar-looking
one, "is poison. Must
never touch."
Joe sighed and forced himself to pay attention again. The two
mushrooms kind
of looked the same, he thought, but not really.
"You look by trees over there," Hop Sing directed.
"I look here."
"Okay." Joe walked over to begin inspecting the area,
but instead of finding
mushrooms, he found Sean leaning against a thick tree, arms
folded across
his chest, watching him curiously.
"What are ya doin'?"
"Huntin' mushrooms," Joe told him with a grin.
"Oh," Sean looked away then back again. "I was
gonna go fishin', you wanna
come?"
"I can't," said Joe glumly, stuffing his hands in his
pockets and kicking a
stone. Truth was, he'd much rather go fishin', but after all the
beggin'
he'd done to get Hop Sing to take him mushroom huntin', he
couldn't really
back out now. "Hey," he said, brightening. "You
wanna hunt mushrooms with
me?"
Sean glanced warily in the direction of Hop Sing then pushed away
from the
tree. "Nah, I gotta go."
"Oh, okay," Joe replied, adding a shrug to help cover
his disappointment. As
Sean began to walk away another idea popped into his head.
"Hey! Wait! You
wanna go fishin' later on?"
Sean hesitated before turning to Joe. "Just me and
you?"
"Yeah," Joe said. "I know a real good spot.
There's a pond right over there,
not too far away."
"Okay," the boy grinned, his dirt-smudged, freckled
face lighting up.
"Good! As soon as I finish helpin' Hop Sing," Joe said,
glancing over his
shoulder, "I'll go home and get my pole and meet ya
there."
"See ya later then!" Sean waved and hurried down the
path.
It wasn't too difficult for Hop Sing to figure out that Joe was
wishing he
was somewhere else, so after the third time he found the boy
staring
absently down the path and not looking for mushrooms, he decided
to cut the
excursion short.
Less than an hour later Joe arrived at the fishing hole.
Sean was already
there, sitting on the ground with his fishing pole in hand. Joe
sat down a
few feet away from him and pulled a nightcrawler out of his
can. "This is
my favorite fishin' spot," he said, as he baited his hook
then dropped it
into the water. "I always catch a whole lotta fish
here."
"I've fished here a couple times before," Sean told
him, keeping an eye on
his line. "But I always catch more fish at my favorite
spot."
"No foolin'? Where's that?"
"It's a secret." The boy squinted his eyes as he
glanced at Joe. "Can I
trust you not to tell anyone?"
"Course!"
"Well, okay." Sean gathered in his line then stood up
and wrapped it around
the pole. "Come on, I'll show ya."
They followed a trail that grew more and more dense with brush
the further
they went along. After walking about twenty minutes or so they
came to a
clearing where an old, run down shack stood leaning ominously to
one side.
Nearly hidden by reeds, not too far away from the shack, there
was a pond
with a dilapidated boat overturned on the shore. "This is my
house," stated
Sean, as if daring Joe to deny it.
Joe simply nodded. The truth was, it looked sorta haunted to him,
but he
wasn't about to mention that. Besides, anyone who was brave
enough to sleep
there deserved his admiration.
"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Sean called out,
taking off toward the pond
in a sprint.
Grinning, Joe followed as fast as his legs would go.
_ _ _ _
Joe knew he was late, but was hoping that Pa would be lenient
with him,
considering the amount of fish he was bringing home. When he
walked into the
house, he noticed the table was set. Pa was sitting in his chair,
which he
had turned so he could watch the door -- like a wolf waiting out
its prey.
At least that's what it felt like to Joe.
"Where have you been, Joseph?"
Joe looked down at the string of fish, wondering why his pa
always felt the
need to ask him questions, especially when the answer should be
obvious.
"Fishin'?"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Suppertime?"
Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're late,
Joseph. Very
late."
"S-sorry, Pa."
"Please do something with those fish and get yourself
cleaned up. You can
clean them later."
"Yes sir." Apparently Pa wasn't as impressed with his
catch as Joe had been
hoping.
"I take them." Hop Sing smiled with approval as he took
the fish from Joe.
At least someone was impressed, thought Joe.
"Thank you, Hop Sing," said Ben. "Joseph, go wash
up."
Joe hurriedly washed his hands and face then returned to the
table. "I'm
sorry, Pa. I was fishin' with Sean and I didn't realize how late
it was."
"Sean?"
"Yeah, we was havin' a real good time and I kept catchin'
fish after fish
and before we knew it, well, it was startin' to get dark."
"I see." Ben picked up the plate of meat, served
himself and passed it to
Adam. "Well, I'm glad you had a good time, son, but
from now on make sure
you get home when you're supposed to."
"Yes sir, Pa." Joe nodded vigorously.
"Who is Sean?" asked Carlos, taking a piece of bread
and passing it on to
Joe.
"A boy I met in town yesterday." Joe took a piece of
bread and passed the
rest to his father.
"He's an orphan boy, about Joe's age," Adam clarified.
"Yeah, his ma and pa died a couple months ago," Joe
explained. "His aunt and
uncle too. They all got the fever, 'cept Sean."
"Big Dan Larsson claims the boy is cursed," Adam said
with a rueful grin as
he passed the plate of beef across the table.
"Cursed?" Carlos looked at him puzzled then served
himself some beef and
passed the plate to Joe who attempted to inconspicuously pass it
on to Ben
without taking any.
"Claims he's responsible for the deaths of an entire wagon
train," Adam told
him. "And a tribe of Indians."
"Have you heard any stories like that around town?" Ben
asked Carlos, while
at the same time placing a slice of beef on Joe's plate.
Joe sighed, looking down at his plate with trepidation.
"Yes, I have heard this," Carlos replied.
"However, I did not believe the
story was true."
"Well, I don't believe it's true either," Adam
commented, looking from
Carlos to his father. "Just because that kid didn't die
along with everyone
else, doesn't make him responsible for their deaths."
"No, son," agreed Ben. "It doesn't."
"The Indians have many..." Carlos frowned as he
struggled for the proper
word, "superstitions."
"Exactly," Adam agreed.
"Their superstitions are not all unfounded, though,"
Ben pointed out.
"Sometimes there's very good reasoning for their beliefs.
"And sometimes it's just an easy way of explaining the
unknown." Adam added
with assurance.
"Pa, you're not sayin' you believe them, are ya?" Joe
asked, sounding a
little worried.
"No, son, not exactly. But it probably wouldn't be a bad
idea to find out
what those people died from."
"The fever," Carlos supplied matter-of-factly.
Ben smiled. "Yes, but what kind of fever?"
Carlos shrugged. "That, I do not know."
"Well, we don't know much about this boy, or where he came
from...."
"I do," Joe said enthusiastically. "He came from
Pennsylvania. His ma and pa
were from Ireland."
"Yes, son, but you see...." Ben rested one elbow
on the table and leaned
toward Joe. "Well, diseases are spread in different ways.
Sometimes, they
can be spread by insects or other animals, sometimes by people,
like with
influenza. And then there are sicknesses like Cholera that come
from bad
water. I don't believe I've ever heard of a disease being spread
by a
healthy person, though." He paused thoughtfully for a moment
then glanced at
the untouched food on Joe's plate. "Eat your supper,
Joe."
Joe looked at the beef on his plate and thought of Nellie the
cute little
baby calf he'd helped Hoss take care of after its mama had died
and his
stomach flip-flopped.
"In China," Hop Sing began, using his quiet
story-telling tone of voice, "I
hear of woman whose family died from mysterious illness.
Afterward, the
woman went to live with husband's brother and family. They all
die of same
illness, but woman never get illness. After that, she was given
job with
wealthy family and they all got illness, too."
"What happened to her?" Joe asked.
"She was made to live for rest of her life all alone on
mountain. No one was
ever to go there and she could never leave."
Everyone around the table sat in silence for a long moment, until
finally
Ben cleared his throat. "I think I'll try to do a little
checking around,"
he said. "Just to see if anyone can tell me anything more
about the
illness." When all heads turned toward him, he added,
"Just to be on the
safe side."
Joe slumped in his chair, absently pushing the food around on his
plate.
"Little Joe, I know you've become friends with Sean, but for
the time being,
I think it would be best for you to keep a safe distance."
Ben felt terrible
saying the words, but he wasn't willing to take any chances.
"Pa...."
"You better do what Pa says, little brother," Hoss
interrupted. "Or ol'
Saint Nick might just pass you right by tomorrow night."
Joe wrinkled his nose. "There ain't no such thing as Saint
Nick."
Hoss grinned. "You sure about that?"
Carlos looked at each of them before asking, "Who is Saint
Nick?"
"You ain't ever heard of Saint Nick?" Joe asked,
incredulous.
Both Ben and Adam tried to hide their smiles. Ben wiped his mouth
and set
his napkin on the table then turned to Carlos. "One of our
Christmas
traditions is that on the night before Christmas a man called
Saint Nick
travels around the world in a sleigh. If a child has been well
behaved," he
raised an eyebrow at Joe, "Saint Nick will make a stop at
his house and
leave a present or two in his stocking."
"His stocking?" Carlos asked, obviously appalled at the
idea.
"Yes, the children are supposed to hang their clean
stockings by the
fireplace." Ben said with amusement. "Right
Joseph?"
"Aw, Pa. I ain't a kid no more."
Everyone at the table laughed, with the exception of Joe who was
busy
struggling with that ever-so-small part of him that had yet to be
entirely
convinced that Saint Nick wasn't real.
"Well, we have a similar tradition," Carlos said,
ruffling Joe's hair. "La
dia de Reyes is when we celebrate the arrival of the three wise
men. On the
night before, we would place our shoes by the window and while we
slept the
three wise men would leave gifts in them."
"In your shoes?" Hoss asked, looking as appalled as
Carlos had moments ago.
"Well, sometimes, we would wake to find new shoes as
well."
"So on Christmas the three wise men brought presents, not
Saint Nick?" Joe
asked.
"Si, but not on Christmas. They come later, on the sixth day
of January,"
Carlos explained. "If you put your boots by the window the
night before,
Little Joe, perhaps they will leave a gift for you," he
said, grinning at
Joe.
"Golly, ya think so?" Joe asked, sincerely hopeful.
"I do."
Joe beamed at Carlos and finally began eating his supper.
Ben shook his head slowly, both amazed and amused by his young
son's
gullibility. Seems Little Joe wasn't entirely ready to cast
aside childhood
fantasies after all.
_ _ _ _
In spite of the fact that it had been officially winter for a
couple of
days, the temperatures remained mild, more like that of early
fall. In a way
Joe was glad for the unseasonably warm weather because it meant
he could
spend more time outside and without a heavy jacket, but on the
other hand,
it sure would be nice if they'd get some snow -- at least for
Christmas.
"I can't believe we only caught one fish," Joe said,
frowning as he held up
the meager day's catch.
"You mean, you caught one fish," replied Sean. "I
didn't catch any."
Joe nodded, looking thoughtfully at the fish then he held it out
toward
Sean. "Here, you take it."
"What?"
"You take it," Joe repeated then shrugged. "It
ain't enough to feed all of
us anyways."
"Are ya sure?"
"Sure I'm sure!" Joe said handing the fish to Sean.
"I better get home or
else I'm gonna be late again."
"Okay, see ya tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" Joe paused, looking down at the ground.
"I don't think I'll be
able to meet ya tomorrow."
"How come?"
"Cause it's Christmas," Joe said, feeling guilty
because he knew Sean would
be all alone on Christmas. "But, maybe...." Surely Pa
wouldn't want his
friend to be lonely on Christmas of all days. Maybe if he spoke
to him, Pa
would let Sean share dinner with 'em...or better yet, if Sean
just happened
to show up at their house, there's no way his pa would send him
away. Not on
Christmas.
"Maybe what?"
"Well, I was thinkin' maybe you could come to our house and
spend Christmas
with us."
"I-I don't think so."
"Why not? Come on," Joe pleaded. "My Pa won't
mind."
"Nah, that's okay. 'Sides, I don't feel much like
celebratin'."
"You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure," Sean answered playfully, trying to
lighten the mood. "Don't
worry about me, I'll be alright. Maybe I'll see ya the day
after."
"Well, if ya change your mind, you just come over
anytime."
Sean nodded. "Yeah, okay."
"Little Joe!" A familiar voice called out, putting an
end to the boys'
conversation. "What are you doing? You should have been home
by now."
Joe turned pleading eyes toward Carlos. "I was on my way,
honest."
"Your father sent me looking for you."
"Oh great." Joe sighed long-sufferingly then waved
goodbye to Sean. The way
things were looking, all he was gonna end up gettin for Christmas
was a
good, hard tannin'.
"If I were you, I would hurry," Carlos warned, reaching
down to pull Joe up
in front of him on the saddle.
Once they were headed for home, Joe tilted his head back to look
up at
Carlos. "I sure wish Sean had someone to spend Christmas
with. Do ya think
maybe Pa would mind if he spent it with us?"
"I do not know, Little Joe, but I do know that he will not
be pleased to
know you disobeyed him today," Carlos answered him
pointedly.
"You mean about stayin' away from Sean?"
"You know that is what I mean," scolded Carlos.
"Well," Joe licked his lips and smiled hopefully,
"Pa doesn't have to know."
Carlos cuffed him lightly on the head. "So now you would add
deceit to your
list of offenses?"
"But Carlos," Joe whined piteously, "Sean ain't
got nobody else. He's all
alone."
Carlos shook his head. "Little Joe, I too feel sympathy for
the boy," he
said reasonably, "but you should not have disobeyed your
father's wishes."
"I know," Joe admitted with defeat. Leaning back
against Carlos, he closed
his eyes to think. "I just figure that a fella shouldn't
have to be
alone....'specially on Christmas."
"Yes, it is very sad," Carlos replied sincerely.
"Carlos?" Joe opened his eyes and looked up.
"Yes?"
"Please, *please* don't tell Pa that I was with Sean
today," Joe begged then
bit his lip and frowned. "I kinda...asked Sean to come over
tomorrow. He
said he didn't want to and he probably won't, but just
incase...well, if Pa
finds out I disobeyed him he's all the more likely to say
no."
"Little Joe...."
"Please!"
Carlos sighed, looking straight ahead as his horse trotted down
the path.
Having been forced to spend Christmas alone since being separated
from his
beloved family, he could empathize wholeheartedly with the boy.
Simply being
alone took its toll at the best of times, but being alone at
Christmas time
had been nearly unbearable. "Alright, I won't tell
this time," he agreed
begrudgingly. "But, I do not like being asked to deceive
your father, Little
Joe. Do not ask me to do this again."
"I won't!" Joe smiled with gratitude. "I
promise!"
Carlos Rivera de Vega pondered his chances of someday being as
good of a
father as Ben Cartwright, or for that matter, his own dear
father. He
wondered if good fathers were born with strong fortitude or if it
was
something that became stronger with experience and sincerely
hoped it was
the latter.
That evening, Ben sent the boys to bed shortly
after they'd finished
trimming the tree he'd cut down that morning. When he'd been
fairly certain
they were asleep, he began to fill their stockings -- in spite of
his
youngest son's declaration that he no longer believed in Saint
Nick. Ben
indulged himself in what was probably his last year of carrying
out the
tradition, his mind overflowing with memories of Christmases past
and his
heart filled with longing for Marie's presence.
For his eldest son, he'd finally been able to get his hands on a
book he'd
been wanting for some time, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe
stories, which
Ben felt wasn't the most appropriate gift for Christmas, but
since he hadn't
been able to get the book in time for Adam's birthday, he figured
he would
just look at it in a literary sense and try not to think too hard
about the
book's contents.
At Hoss's present age, it was a little more difficult for Ben to
come up
with something the boy would really appreciate. Not that Hoss
wouldn't have
appreciated any gift given to him, but Ben wanted to get the boy
something
he'd be excited about. Being the middle child was not exactly a
prominent
position in any family. Ben knew that often times Hoss's needs
had been made
secondary, especially during the past year and rarely had the boy
ever
complained. Which is part of the reason Ben had chosen the gift
that he had.
It was sort of a silly thing, but he'd watched his son pause,
every time
they went into the mercantile over the past few months, to smell
a bottle of
fancy cologne. It would be worth the ridiculous price just to see
the
surprise on his son's face.
Ben wasn't a hundred percent convinced that his youngest was
ready for the
'genuine mother-of-pearl' handled pocket knife he'd gotten him,
but Joseph
had talked incessantly of it for months now and he knew that his
older sons
had already spent time showing him how to whittle with their own
pocket
knives. In fact he'd accidentally -- or not so accidentally -
tossed the
proof of the boy's whittling capabilities into the fire not too
long ago.
Ben hoped that with his new knife, Joseph would perhaps make a
nice quiet
statue, or maybe a toy boat? Anything, so long as it did not make
a shrill
whistling noise. He'd just have to make sure to have a meaningful
discussion
with the boy before turning him loose with it.
It was even more difficult to find something that Hop Sing would
enjoy.
After much thought, he'd finally settled on a purchasing a book
that Hop
Sing had attempted to mail order from San Francisco, months ago.
Ben had no
idea what it was about or even what the title was, being that it
was written
in Chinese, but Mr. Orowitz had let him pay the bill for it and
continued to
tell Hop Sing that he hadn't received it yet.
The one gift he felt truly enthusiastic about giving was the
pocket watch
he'd wrapped up and put into Carlos' stocking. It wasn't a
particularly
expensive watch, but it was valuable in the sense that it had
been handed
down by his grandfather. Ben hoped to convey to Carlos that
he was
considered part of the family.
None of the gifts could be considered extravagant, but for the
Cartwright
family that wasn't what Christmas was about.
On Christmas morning, Joe was up first, as usual, making an
adequate amount
of noise until the rest of the house was awake. After
finishing the chores
and eating breakfast -- something Ben had always insisted on -
they were
finally allowed to open their gifts.
Sitting back in his favorite chair, Ben relaxed, watching the
scene with
contentment. He'd always felt a sense of joy watching his
children open
their gifts. There had been a year or two, when money was very
tight, that
he and Marie had been forced to get real creative in coming up
with gifts,
but those Christmases would always be very special in his heart.
And now
that Marie was gone, he had all the more reason to cherish the
memories of
every Christmas they'd been blessed to spend together. How he
longed for
Marie. Although he was trying his best to cover his melancholy, a
few times
he had caught one of the boys looking at him and he'd known by
their
expression that they were feeling her absence too.
His mood took a turn for the better when Carlos opened his gift
and held it
out, looking puzzled. "This must be a mistake," he
said, trying to offer the
antique watch back to Ben.
"It's no mistake, Carlos," Ben told him quietly.
"You've come to mean a lot
to this family. In fact, I know I'm not the only one who
considers you part
of this family now," he said looking at each of his son's as
they nodded
agreement. Then he grinned mischievously and added, "That
is, if you'll have
us."
Carlos' mouth dropped open and he stared at Ben, seemingly unable
to
respond. Then he looked away for a moment before clearing his
throat and
looking back. "Thank you, Ben," he said in a very soft
voice. Ben just
grinned at him.
To his surprise, when his family was finished opening their
gifts, there was
one box remaining on the hearth. "Look!" exclaimed Joe,
handing the oblong
package to Ben. "It's to you Pa, from Saint Nick."
Ben glanced around the room, seeing the same sense of
satisfaction in their
eyes that he had felt while watching them. "Well, what do ya
know?" he said
with a smile.
"Open it, Pa!" Joe said eagerly.
Carefully, Ben tore away the paper and then opened the lid, both
surprised
and pleased with what he found inside. "Well, Saint Nick
shouldn't have," he
said, smiling and holding up a handsome looking pipe, with a
rich, dark
color and a fine grain. Beneath the pipe there was a tin of
imported Turkish
blend tobacco. Ben wondered how in the world they'd managed to
get a hold of
either of these things. It wasn't like Eagle Station had any
specialty
stores. They must have mail ordered them months ago, without his
knowledge.
"You like it, Pa?" Joe asked, his eyes filled with
expectation.
"Of course, son. But, this tobacco alone must have
cost...Saint Nick an
awful lot of money," he said, conveying his gratitude by the
warmth in his
eyes.
"Nah, the pipe costed a lot more," Joe said, then
immediately slapped a hand
over his mouth.
Ben nearly choked on his laughter, while Hoss, looking disgusted,
hurled a
wad of wrapping paper at the boy. Hop Sing quickly excused
himself, mumbling
about recipes as he headed for the kitchen and Carlos gave Joe a
wink and
ruffled his hair then motioned for the boy to join him outside.
Across the room, Adam smiled and shook his head, his blue eyes
twinkling
with fond amusement. Happy that at least this year Little Joe
hadn't told Pa
what his present was in advance.
"You really shouldn't have," Ben told him when the room
was cleared.
"It wasn't just me, Pa," replied Adam. "Hop Sing
and Carlos pitched in too.
Believe it or not, even Hoss had some money saved up."
Raising his eyebrows,
he grinned. "Joe too."
Ben chuckled; he had a pretty good idea of the amount of money
his youngest
son would have contributed. But he had to admit he was more than
a little
touched that everyone had pulled together to get him something --
not only
his own boys, but his extended family too. "Thank you,
son," he said
quietly. "I can't tell you how much it means."
The rest of the day was spent relaxing for the most part. Both
Adam and Hop
Sing read their books, while Hoss and Joe played checkers. Ben
noticed Joe
looking out the window at frequent intervals, but decided not to
question
the boy.
Late in the afternoon they headed outside for their evening
chores. The
horses and other livestock needed tending no matter what holiday
was upon
them. As Ben closed up the barn for the night he noticed Little
Joe standing
in front of the porch looking up at the evening sky and he walked
over to
stand beside the boy. The two of them gazed up at the multitude
of
brilliantly glittering stars above. "Beautiful," Ben
whispered in reverence,
settling his hand on Joseph's shoulder and pulling him close.
"Pa," said Joe, still looking up at the heavens,
"what's that star up
there?" He pointed north, toward a slightly larger star that
seemed to
shimmer more brightly than the others.
"You know what star that is, Joe," Ben answered,
looking down at his son.
"That's the North Star."
"But it looks bigger than usual, don't ya think, Pa?"
Ben studied it for a few minutes, comparing it to the others as
he'd done on
many occasions before. Perhaps it did, or perhaps it was only his
imagination.
"Do ya think it shines brighter 'cause it's Christmas?"
Who was he to deny the possibility? "It does seem
brighter tonight, doesn't
it?" he said, sounding convinced.
Joe grinned up at him. "Yeah, it does."
They stood in silence for a while longer, breathing the crisp
mountain air
and absorbing the peace and serenity of the moment.
"Pa?" Joe said quietly, barely breaking the silence.
Ben looked down.
"Christmas ain't the same without Ma, and at first it made
me real sad,
but...." Joe tilted his head back and seemed hesitant to
continue.
"But?"
"Well, I was thinkin', I'll bet Ma's real happy up in heaven
right now. I'll
bet heaven's the most beautiful place to be on Christmas, don't
ya think,
Pa?"
Ben kneeled down to Joe's eyelevel and looked at him with awe.
"I know it
is, Joseph," he said pulling the boy to his chest. "I
know it is."
After dinner, Carlos settled with his back against the wall and
began
strumming softly on a guitar. Joe was the first to sit down
beside him, but
eventually everyone else put aside their tasks to listen the
beautiful
sound.
As he listened, Ben lit his pipe and sat back, reflecting on all
the gifts
he'd been granted over the past year. They'd had a great loss as
well, and
he doubted there would ever be a time he wouldn't wish for Marie
to be with
them, but looking around the room, he could be nothing but
thankful for
everything he had.
Before the evening was over Joe and Hoss had fallen asleep, Joe
curled up in
front of the fire with his head pillowed on Adam's thigh and Hoss
snoring
softly on the settee. Adam was still awake, but just barely.
"That was beautiful, Carlos," Ben said quietly when
Carlos had set the
guitar aside. "Thank you for sharing it with us."
"It was my pleasure," he replied, smiling. "I
would also like to thank you,
Ben..." Carlos tried to keep up the smile, but emotion
caused it to falter,
"for...for everything."
_ _ _ _
For the next few days the weather held, but the very last day of
the year
brought with it a brisk, northerly wind that promised much cooler
temperatures were ahead.
Joe, wanting to make the most of what might be the last warm
hours for some
time, had run off in search of his new friend Sean, whom he
hadn't seen
since Christmas Eve. The two boys spent the afternoon fishing,
until the
wind got too strong and they began having trouble keeping their
lines from
getting tangled.
"Ya know what?" Sean said, scratching his head and
looking puzzled. "I've
been noticin' that when we fish at your spot, I catch all the
fish and when
we fish at my spot, you seem to catch 'em all."
Joe tilted his head thoughtfully then looked at Sean. "Ya
know, you're
right!"
"So, what do ya think we should do?" Sean asked.
"Well, I dunno, I guess we should just keep doin' like we
have been," Joe
answered with a shrug. "At least one of us will be catchin'
something."
"We probably oughtta switch off spots, ya know?" Sean
said speculatively.
"Like, every other day, so's we both have an equal
chance."
"Okay by me," said Joe and together, the two boys began
walking through the
woods until they came to the fork in the path where they usually
parted
ways. "Hey, look!" Joe pointed to a spot on the ground
next to a large pine
tree. "Mushrooms!" He kneeled down and began putting
them into his satchel.
"You want some?" he asked Sean, scrambling to the next
tree where he found
another cluster.
Sean made a disgusted face. "No way. I ain't eating none of
those things."
"Why not? They're good, see." Joe pulled off a chunk,
stuffed it into his
mouth and began to chew. It wasn't too good though, not at all
like after
Hop Sing cooked 'em. But it wasn't terrible either, so he kept up
the act,
hoping to entice Sean who he knew could always use the extra
food.
Sean grinned. "I guess you won't be goin' home empty-handed
after all, will
ya?"
"You sure you don't want some?" Joe asked, stuffing
another piece in his
mouth. "You might like it."
"No thanks." Sean waved his hand dismissively and
grimaced again.
Joe stood up and closed his satchel. "I best get
goin'," he said then
stopped. "Hey Sean, ya know how tomorrow's New Year's? Well,
we always try
to make kind of a celebration of it at our house. Nothin'
special, we just
sing songs and play games and sometimes we all sit in front of
the fire and
tell stories. I don't think Pa wouldn't mind if you came."
"I don't know, Joe."
"Aw, come on. It'll be fun, I promise." Joe chewed his
bottom lip and
studied his friend's reaction. He could tell that Sean wanted to
come, but
he was holding back for some reason. "This will be the first
year my ma
won't be there," he admitted sadly. "She always told
real good stories." Joe
sighed heavily and stared at the ground for several moments
before squaring
his shoulders and looking up. "I guess I was just thinkin'
that since...you
know, this is the first year you won't have your folks, well, I-I
figure we
could all try and make the best of things."
Sean looked intently at Joe for a long moment then sniffled and
wiped his
nose on his sleeve. "I dunno. I'll think about it."
"Really?"
"I said I'll think about it," he repeated. "I
ain't makin' no promises
though."
"Okay."
"You best get goin' then."
"Yeah, well, see ya tomorrow!" Joe called out with an
impish grin.
Sean tried glaring, but found himself unintentionally grinning
back. "Go on,
get outta here."
Halfway home, Joe ran into a familiar, dark figure, seated on his
horse and
dressed in flamboyant Spanish attire. "Hi Carlos,' he said
amiably, then
scrunching his nose, he looked up. "How come you're always
the one Pa sends
out after me?"
"Your father did not send me. I volunteered because I
thought I might know
where to find you."
"Oh, well, I was just...."
Carlos cleared his throat and waved a halting hand. "Never
mind. I do not
want to know."
Little Joe grinned. Sometimes, Carlos sounded just like Adam.
"I just been
fishin', that's all. Except I didn't catch no fish."
"What's in the bag?" he asked, once again pulling Joe
up into the saddle.
"Mushrooms," he opened the flap, "see. And
crawlers."
"Very good," Carlos said when he saw the mushrooms.
"I think Hop Sing will
be happy with you after all."
"Hey Carlos? You got any water in your canteen?" The
aftertaste from the
mushroom he'd eaten was startin' to get to him and he doubted
he'd even be
able to stomach whatever Hop Sing made with them.
Carlos smiled indulgently, pulled the canteen up, unscrewed the
cap and
handed it to the boy.
"Thanks," Joe said gratefully and drank the whole
thing.
_ _ _ _
Ben was amazed as he looked in on the sleeping boys. The one
night of the
year he encouraged them to stay up late and it never failed,
every year they
fell asleep well before the New Year arrived.
It was after midnight and Ben was sitting in front of the fire
when he heard
little Joe approaching. "What are you doing up, son?"
"Pa," Joe whimpered, holding his stomach. "I don't
feel...." His hand flew
to his mouth, but that did nothing to prevent the vomit from
spewing forth.
"Hop Sing!" Ben shouted, jumping up from the chair to
take his youngest by
the shoulders. "It's okay, son." He maneuvered Joe
toward the hearth and
grabbed the bucket they used to douse the fire and placed it in
front of the
boy.
Hop Sing came into the room, tying the belt on his robe.
"What is it?"
"It's Little Joe." Ben glanced up momentarily.
"Can you give me a hand?"
"What the matter, Pa?" Adam came out of the bunkroom,
Hoss following on his
heels.
"Your brother's sick," Ben acknowledged with a slight
smile. "You boys go on
back to bed."
After a while, Joe's stomach seemed to settle down, but he
remained perched
over the bucket just to be safe. "Joseph?"
He heard his father say, but he
was so drained all he could do was close his eyes. Ben continued
to rub his
back for several minutes then carefully eased the boy back. Joe's
eyes
remained closed, his breathing ragged.
"Little Joe?" Hop Sing said quietly as he began dabbing
the boy's face with
a damp cloth. When Joe's eyes opened slightly, he continued.
"The mushrooms
you brought home today, did you eat any of them...or any
others?"
Upon hearing the word mushrooms Joe's stomach tightened up again.
He
squeezed his eyes closed and nodded before lunging forward for
the bucket.
Ben's eyes widened and looked fearfully to the oriental man bent
over his
son. "Hop Sing?"
Hop Sing held up a finger and waited for the next pause.
"Little Joe?"
Joe groaned and fell back against his father.
"This very important. I need to know if you ate mushrooms
you brought home,
or other mushroom?"
Joe took several ragged breaths then tried to clear his throat.
He felt the
cool cloth on his face again and someone held a cup to his mouth.
He took a
drink but before his thirst was quenched, the cup was taken away.
"Just a
few sips, son." After a few moments of silence, Ben repeated
Hop Sing's
question. "Joseph, did you eat the mushrooms you brought
home or another
species?"
Joe swallowed several times, audibly then opened his eyes a
crack. "The ones
I brung home. I-I was...." But he could say no more. Just
the thought of the
mushrooms brought back the horrible taste that had lingered in
his mouth
throughout the evening and he rolled again toward the bucket.
_ _ _ _
Carlos entered the house after his early morning chores were
finished,
expecting to find the Cartwright's gathered around the table for
breakfast
as they did every morning. Instead, he found an empty table and
nearly ran
into Adam who was carrying a foul smelling bucket out of the
bunkroom.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"Little Joe's real sick," Adam told him, holding the
bucket as far away from
his body as he could. "He's been throwing up all
night."
Carlos' eyebrows drew together and he suddenly looked stricken.
After
spending a small amount of time tracking Little Joe's friend to
the shanty
he was staying at, and a larger amount of time attempting to gain
his trust,
Carlos had finally managed to befriend the boy and had ended up
staying the
night in the unpleasant little shack. Before he'd left he had
even talked
Sean into accepting Little Joe's invitation to spend the day at
the
Ponderosa.
"He's finally settled down so we're all trying to be real
quiet." Adam
smiled a little and continued for the door.
Carlos hurried into the bunkroom where he found Ben seated on the
edge of
Joe's bed. Hop Sing and Hoss were hovering close by, as well.
Little Joe looked deathly ill. His face was pale and speckled
from straining
with the nausea throughout the night, but at the moment he was
lying still,
appearing to be peacefully asleep. Carlos wasn't sure if the
stillness was a
good or bad thing. The only thing he was sure of was that he had
been very
wrong in keeping Joe's secret. It was one thing to put himself in
jeopardy,
but quite another to put Little Joe at risk. He felt as if he had
betrayed
his friend and if anything happened to Little Joe he did not
think he could
bear it. Crossing himself, he said a silent prayer asking that
the Blessed
Mother would watch over this child and offering his own life in
supplication.
"Ben," he whispered, unable to draw his gaze away from
the small figure on
the bed. This boy meant so much to him; he loved him as much as
he would a
brother - possibly more. He'd sworn to Ben and to himself that he
would
always watch over and protect Little Joe and he realized that he
had
betrayed that oath as well.
Adam came back, giving Carlos a pat on the shoulder as he passed
by and
placed the bucket next to the bed. "How's he doing,
Pa?"
"Well, at least he isn't throwing up at the moment."
Several minutes went by in which everyone in the room simply
hovered
quietly, unable to do anything but watch over the sleeping boy.
Just when
Carlos thought he would no longer be able to endure standing by
helplessly,
there was a knock on the door.
"Carlos, could you see who's at the door?" Ben asked,
smiling tiredly.
With a nod, Carlos left the room and went to the front door. When
he opened
it, he looked down at the surprisingly clean face of the boy who
he'd just
left a few hours earlier
"You told me to come over today," the boy said
nervously. "Is it o-okay?"
Carlos stared at the boy, torn between sympathy and the
irrational urge to
send him away. The sound of renewed retching from the bedroom
helped make
his decision. "You cannot come here today," he said,
pushing the boy further
back and stepping out onto the porch where he folded his arms
across his
chest. "Little Joe is very ill."
The boy's shoulders drooped and his face glazed over first with
shock then
grief. He nodded absently and slowly turned and walked
away. Carlos watched
until the boy was out of sight then went back into the house.
He stood at the doorway to the bedroom, watching as Ben, with the
help of
Hop Sing, pulled off Little Joe's soiled bedclothes and began
gently washing
the boy. Hop Sing added the nightshirt to another pile then
carried the
laundry out of the room.
"Carlos, could you help me out here?" Ben asked,
glancing at the man in the
doorway. "Help me get this on him." With one hand
Carlos lifted Joe's limp
body while Ben slipped the shirt over his head and pulled it
down. He
settled the boy back on the clean pillowcase and gently placed
his arm
through one sleeve, while Ben did the same with the other arm.
"There we
go." Ben reached down and pulled the blankets up, tucking
them around Joe's
shoulders. "Hopefully he'll be able to get some rest
now," he whispered,
stroking his child's hair. "Who was at the door?"
"It was that boy, Sean. He was looking for Little Joe."
"Is he still here?" Ben asked, looking up.
"I sent him away."
"You sent him away?" Ben asked with disbelief.
"Yes, I sent him away," Carlos repeated. "Ben, I
am sorry. I did not believe
the rumors that a boy could be responsible for causing illness
and death,
but now...." His voice failed him and he looked down at
Little Joe's
exhausted face and gently brushed the back of his fingers across
his soft
cheek then he looked up to find Ben staring at him open-mouthed.
"Please,
Ben...forgive me. I knew that Little Joe had been spending time
with the
boy, but I did not tell you. I promised him that I would not tell
you and by
doing so I have betrayed you...and Little Joe," he looked
away, "and
myself," he added, his voice barely audible.
"Carlos, what are you talking about?"
"What do you mean what am I talking about?" he asked in
a harsh whisper. "I
should never have given him my promise. I should have told you he
was with
the boy. By not doing so, I have let you both down and if
anything happens
to him...."
"Carlos, just calm down for a minute, okay?" Ben said,
reaching over to
grasp his forearm. "Little Joe is sick because he ate some
raw mushrooms. It
doesn't have anything to do with Sean."
Carlos looked at him, bewildered. "But, how can you be so
sure?"
"Well, we did some tracking and found the actual cause of
what everyone was
referring to as a fever. Those folks from the wagon train all
died of
anthrax. The sheep they had with them were all carrying it and
when the
Indians found the wagon train, they of course took the sheep.
Afterwards,
apparently a small group of renegades found the remaining sheep
and well,
they ended up succumbing to it, too."
Carlos was silent for a moment then he looked at Ben, his
expression
intense. "So, it wasn't because of the boy?"
"No, of course not." Ben waited a few minutes before
speaking up again. "As
for Little Joe," Ben gazed tenderly down at the boy,
"he gave us quite a
scare, but Hop Sing seems to think he'll be okay. We just need to
keep
giving him liquids so he doesn't get dehydrated."
Carlos sat on the bed for a long time digesting the information.
He was
immensely relieved that it looked like Little Joe would be all
right. But
still, things so easily could have turned out much worse. Ben
Cartwright had
done so much for him over the past year. Ben Cartwright had given
him hope
when he thought he had nothing to live for and Carlos had repaid
him by
endangering his son's life. The memories of his time of
hopelessness made
him think of the boy, Sean. Carlos had given the boy hope, and
now he had
taken it away. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over
him and at that
moment Carlos loathed himself. "I am sorry for...for
everything," he said
looking at Ben with pain-filled eyes. "I must
leave." Before Ben had a
chance to register the words, Carlos was gone.
_ _ _ _
Joe sat in his father's lap, wrapped up in a quilt as the two of
them gazed
out the window, watching the fluffy white flakes dancing in the
wind as they
descended to cover the ground in a blanket of snow.
"It's hard to believe it was so warm out just last
week," Joe said quietly,
his head resting against his father's shoulder. "We didn't
even have to wear
coats."
"It would seem the weather has a mind of its own." Ben
smiled down at the
boy.
"Pa? Do you think Sean is okay?" Joe asked, looking up
at his father with
worried eyes. "What if he's cold or hungry?"
"I wouldn't worry too much, son." Ben wrapped his arms
more tightly around
Joe. "Like I told you, I put the word out around town.
Everyone's keeping an
eye out for him."
With a subtle nod, Joe went back to looking out the window. They
both
watched for a long time as the snow continued to fall steadily.
Slowly but
surely, Joe's eyelids began to droop. Just when Ben thought he'd
fallen
asleep, he felt the boy's body tense up. "Pa?" he said,
tilting his head
back to look at his father. "What about Carlos? Do you think
he's okay? How
come he ain't been home?"
Ben squeezed him again then closed his eyes, wishing he knew what
to say.
"Pa?"
Ben let out a long, slow breath. "Son, I wish I could tell
you where Carlos
is, but I just don't know."
"Tomorrow's the sixth day of January," Joe said, then
he licked his lips and
looked out the window again. "La dia de Reyes."
Ben nodded. "Yes, it is."
"You remember how Carlos said that I should put my boots by
the window
before I go to sleep tonight?"
"Yes."
"He said if I did, the three wise men would come and leave a
gift in 'em."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, the only gift I want, Pa, is for Carlos to come
home."
"I know, son."
"That and for Sean to be okay."
"Me too, Joseph," Ben answered. "Me too."
_ _ _ _
It was starting to get dark when Ben came out of the Orowitz's
and spotted
Carlos standing across the street beside his horse. The two men
stared at
each other for quite some time before Ben finally took the
initiative and
started across the street. "You'll never believe who I
found in there," he
said, gesturing over his shoulder.
"Who?" Carlos responded, as if he had no idea what Ben
was talking about.
"I'm sure you remember Little Joe's friend, Sean," Ben
told him nodding with
approval. "It would seem that some wise man just happened to
find him and
deliver him to the perfect home." Ben smiled warmly.
"And by doing so, he
actually made three people very, very happy."
"Well," Carlos shrugged, "maybe this man is not so
wise. Maybe he is only
regretful?"
"Every man has regrets, Carlos," Ben said pointedly.
"It's a wise man who
does something about them."
Carlos smiled. "If you say so, Ben."
"In case you're curious, Sean's welcome to stay there for as
long as it
takes to track down his relatives."
"Good, I am glad."
Ben looked at the man's horse, noticing that it was packed and
ready for
travel. "Looks like you're planning on taking a trip."
"Yes."
Ben nodded, pursing his lips. "I see."
"It is time. I have nothing left here," Carlos told
him, trying his best to
sound resolved.
Ben nodded again, his features becoming contemplative. "I
see."
Carlos stood there uncomfortably, not knowing what was expected,
or what to
say to this man who had taken him in and treated him as family.
"Well," Ben finally said. "I have to say I'm a
little disappointed."
Carlos exhaled slowly then looked away. "I am sorry,
Ben."
Ben simply nodded again.
"You have given me so much...." Carlos said with
intensity. "I never wanted
to disappoint you."
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Because...." Carlos frowned, looking down at the
ground between them.
"If you're feeling guilty about Little Joe getting sick, you
can just stop,"
Ben said, shaking his head. "He got sick because he ate some
raw mushrooms,
not because of anything you did."
"Yes, but I didn't tell you about Little Joe...."
Ben held up his hand, halting Carlos in mid sentence. "I
understand, you
made a promise to Joe - no different than his brother Adam, or
Hoss would
probably have done in the same situation. The three of them have
made
promises behind my back more times than I can count and I'm sure
there are
many I don't even want know about." Ben chuckled. "Does
it make me
frustrated sometimes? Yes. There have been many times that
these...secret
oaths of silence could have resulted in disaster. Does it make me
angry?
Yes, a lot of times it does. But," he took a hold of Carlos'
shoulders and
looked him in the eye, "even though I might be disappointed
at the time, I
realize that it's...well, a brother thing. Brothers have a
special bond
between them that I can't really explain, but I do know that I
wouldn't want
my sons any other way, Carlos."
Carlos stared at him, seeming confused.
"The only way you'll disappoint me Carlos is if you get on
that horse and
leave."
"You...you want me to stay?"
"I want you to stay," Ben said conveying as much
sincerity as he could.
"More than that, I want you to come home."
"But, how could you?"
Ben patted his shoulders, took a few steps back then grinned.
"Little Joe's
got his boots set by the window just like you told him to
do," he said,
while un-tethering his horse's reins. "But, I don't think
he'd be too
disappointed if he found his gift sleeping in the bunk across
from him." Ben
stepped into a stirrup, swung up into the saddle and turned his
horse toward
home. "Trust me, I've smelled those boots and they
definitely would not make
a good pillow," he said with a wink then signaled his horse
to a trot and
headed down the road, trying very hard not to look back.
Ben's words had been honest, straightforward and from the heart,
whether or
not Carlos believed and accepted them was entirely up to Carlos.
Just like
with any of his sons, he could only guide them and pray that they
would make
wise choices. No matter how much it pained him, in the end, he
couldn't
decide for them.
Thankfully, the sky had cleared and there was a full moon
reflecting on the
snow, making the night seem almost as bright as day. It was a
glorious
night, Ben mused as he looked up at the North Star and
reconfirmed his and
Little Joe's theory that it did indeed seem to shine more
brilliantly than
usual this time of year. Moments later he heard another set of
hoof beats
coming up alongside him and he laughed out loud, unable to
contain the
gladness of his heart.
Carlos Rivera de Vega glanced over at the man riding beside him,
and noting
the unmistakable glint of his mischief in his eye, he nudged his
horse to a
faster pace in perfect timing with his friend. As the two horses
cantered
down the road toward the Ponderosa, he made the sign of the cross
and
thanked the Lord above for wise men.
The end