Bonanza Story

This is another story I wrote about the TV show Bonanza as a Christmas story. This one is sort of a comedy and you have to give the writer (me) a little leeway. Yes it is legal to write fan fiction about TV shows. You just can't sell it. There are lots of sites where fan fiction is posted.

Christmas at the Ranch

“Hey, Joe, if you would pick up on your end maybe I could get this thing into the house.”

“I am holding my end. Hoss, why don’t you just get goin’ so that I can move my end.”

“Why don’t both of you get moving so that I can go in the house.”

“Hey, Adam, can’t you see we’re busy,” said Joe, who was holding just the top tip of a Ponderosa pine tree that he and Hoss were attempting to take into the house. You can go around through the kitchen door.”

“I already tried that, and Hop Sing came at me with a meat cleave. Seems like someone already tracked up the kitchen with, as he called it ‘horse dodo’. Now may I please enter the house? It’s cold out here.”

“Yes, it is cold out here. And I said you could have a small Christmas tree. This thing is way too big.” Ben Cartwright had come up behind his oldest son, Adam. (He didn’t want to admit to them that he had gone behind the backs of all those producers, directors, writers, and etcetera and was letting his sons and friends have Christmas this year. Some years the directors, writers and such allowed the Cartwrights to have Christmas and some years they didn’t.)

Hoss gave a big pull on the trunk of the tree that he was holding in the door way to the ranch house while Joe gave a tiny little shove on the top of the tree from where he stood ten feet out from the door and the pine tree folded its branches just enough to scrape its way into the house. Hoss and Joe lifted it over the table and couch and stood it beside the fireplace on the side nearest to the dining room.

“How ‘bout right here,” said Hoss.

“That looks good,” said Joe standing back to admire the tree while Hoss held it up.

“No, no, no,” said Adam. “It will catch fire there. The tree always goes over here by the staircase. There’s more room here.” He picked up the small table that was sitting where he indicated to make way for Hoss and Joe to move the tree over by the staircase.

“And stand it in a bucket of water so it don’t dry out so fast,” added Ben.

“Well, how are we gonna make it stand here?” asked Hoss.

“You know you have to wrap a rope around it and tie it to the staircase,” fussed Adam. “That’s the way we always do it.”

Hop Sing, the Cartwrights cook, housekeeper and friend had been watching as the Christmas tree was brought in and stood up. He started sweeping the floor. “You make big mess. Now house all dirty again. Now got to sweep floor again. All covered with pine needles. I never understand this having to bring tree into house every year.”

A wooden box of fragile, hand-blown, glass Christmas decorations had been brought in earlier and now Joe, Hoss, and Adam took them carefully out of the straw that kept the decorations safe in the box and hung them on the tree.

Hoss took a short paper chain out of the box.

Joe snorted in disgust. “That old thing. We need a new one.”

“This one is just fine,” said Hoss as he gently added it to the tree.

“You made that when you were five years old,” scoffed Joe.

“What about this?” asked Adam as he held up a small, white, china plate with a child’s handprint in the center and Merry Christmas misspelled around it.

“That’s mine,” yelped Joe grabbing it away from Adam and hanging it on the tree by a red ribbon attached to the back.

Ben sat in his chair smiling at the child-like antics of his three grown sons. He hoped it would be a good Christmas without any of the problems there had been on other Christmas’s. He thought that the only thing missing was a woman or two to add to the enthusiasm of the room. He sighed at the thought that not one of his three boys had found a wife yet and he wondered if they ever would. (Or would be allowed to by the writers.)

After supper Hop Sing brought another small box into the room and took out a few brightly colored paper birds, and paper lanterns to add to the tree. Ben had found the old, wooden, hand-carved nativity and nutcracker that had belonged to Adam’s mother and set them under the tree. Hoss hung five large, new, knit stockings from the staircase railing once he had been convinced it was to dangerous to hang them from a fireplace that was usually in use at this time of the year. Adam tied several large, red ribbon bows on the ends of several branches. Joe stood on the landing of the staircase and leaned way out over the top of the tree to add a silver star, and a gold angel to the top of the tree. Everyone agreed it was the best looking Christmas tree they had ever had.

A few days before Christmas there had been more decorations added to the tree and many gifts were under the tree. Evergreen wreaths with big red bows hung on the door, the staircase and on Ben’s desk. Mistletoe hung near the doorways just in case an attractive woman should wonder in so that the men in the house would have an excuse to kiss her. And there were plenty of attractive women at the Christmas party that the Cartwrights had. Ben had hopes that maybe, just maybe, with all the holiday spirit that one of his sons would ask one of the attractive women at the party to become part of the Cartwright family.

Hop Sing oversaw the roasting of half a beef in a pit that the cowhands had dug in the yard, while all of the guests had arrived with plates, and bowls full of potato salad, jars of pickles, green beans casseroles, pinto beans with jalapeño pepper seasoning, and homemade breads. There were a dozen or so of different kinds of cookies, cakes, and pies. A Mexican family brought enchiladas, tacos, burritos, and sapodillas. An American Indian family brought venison, wild rabbit stew, roast turkey and the greasy, Indian fry bread that is so popular with the newcomers to America. (The writers weren’t too informed about different cultures at this time in the life of the Cartwrights.) For once there were even left overs. Hoss had eaten all he could consume and then some and kept complaining about how his tummy hurt and his mouth was on fire after eating that hot Mexican food with the jalapeno seasoning in it.

There was fun and games for all. Sack races, horse races, (of course Little Joe won) poker games, and hide and seek were popular. Joe and Adam especially like the hide and seek games they played with several of the young women that came to the party in their very colorful, party dresses. Of course the men all were wearing their dreary, boring suits topped off by big western hats. And each and every man had on a pair of the heavy, pointed, cowboy boots that the women dreaded having their feet stomped with when the dancing began. Those cowboys had to get drunk and really show the women a good time when it came to square dancing, but only Adam seemed to be able to waltz decently so all the women wanted to argue over who’s turn it was to dance with Adam when a waltz was played.

The party went on for hours and hours and finally broke up at the very late hour of about eight o-clock in the evening. The cowhands retired to the bunk house, to snore the night away as they had to get up early the next morning to do all those cowboy jobs like punching cows and building fences. The Cartwrights went to their house to gather around the big fireplace and discuss the party.

“Well, did any of you boys ask any of those cute young ladies to be your wife?”

“Wife!” echoed all three of the boys. (They wondered if Pa had forgot about the unwritten rules of all those producers, writers, directors, and such.)

“Why would I ask any of them to get married?” asked Adam, from where he sat on the couch. “When I get married I want someone that is smart. That has been to school. Someone that can do something besides be a ranchers wife, cooking and cleaning, splitting wood, chasing cows, breaking broncs and having kids.”

“Oh,” commented Ben.

Adam continued, “I want a wife that is sophisticated, plays the piano, reads poetry, and enjoys going to the opera and ballet.”

“Now, I can’t say much for them kind a things, Adam.” Hoss stood in front of the fireplace, “Me, I’d rather have that there strong, rancher’s wife. She seems more to my way of thinkin’ to make a good wife.” He picked up the fireplace poker and stirred the ashes in the fire then added a couple of pieces of firewood from the woodbox.

“Oh,” said Ben again.

Joe giggled from his seat on the big, coffee table in front of the fireplace. “Now I don’t want either of them kinds of women for a wife. I want one that’s cute, with a sassy type of personality. One that wants to have fun and maybe we’ll raise us a few cute, little spotted ponies as well as one or two little kids.” He too, stared into the fire as if he could see just the right girl to be his wife.

“Oh,” said Ben for the third time. Under his breath so that his sons couldn’t hear he muttered something that sounded like, “But the powers that be won’t let any of you have a wife. Or if they do she will get sick and die.” (Was he talking about all those writers, directors, producers and such?)

After a moment he stood and stretched. “I think we are all getting too melancholy for our own good. First thing you know we’ll be cryin’ in our milk. So why don’t we have a drink of whiskey and a couple of those left over cookies before we go to bed. Christmas should be a happy time.”

The next day the Cartwrights got up early so they could join there cowhands in some good, old-fashioned cowboy work. Ben wondered into the barn with a coffee cup still in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he was really up to climbing onto a horse and riding. Why, oh, why did the powers that be want him to keep riding horses? And which one of those obnoxious buckskins would it be today. Why was in necessary for him to always ride a jugheaded buckskin? Why couldn’t he have a nice, gentle, well-trained sorrel like the one Adam had? Why couldn’t Adam get the buckskin with that rough, jarring trot that tried to shake his teeth out? He leaned against a post, sipped on his coffee, and waited for the wrangler to figure out he was there and get his horse saddled for him.

Adam had followed his father into the barn and was trying to get warmer by turning the collar of his jacket up and pulling on a pair of leather gloves. He noticed Ben had a cup of coffee. He should have thought of getting one before he came out. But if he drank another cup of the brew he would just have to get on and off of his horse more times so he could pee. Drinking coffee and then riding a horse at any gait wasn’t the smartest thing to do. And which of those idiot sorrel nags did he get today. The powers that be always put him on a sorrel, usually with white stockings. They didn’t seem to realize that the audience really could tell the difference between all those different horses that he and his family had to ride. He might have to ride only sorrels but the watchers could tell that difference in them even if it was something as minor as the white stocking was on a right foreleg instead of a left hind leg. (Not that the directors, writers, or producers could tell the difference. They really weren’t as smart as they thought they were.)

Hoss bumped into Adam when he walked into the barn because he was sleep walking again and eating a rolled up flapjack filled full of honey that was dripping out and down his shirt. “Sssssarry Aaadommm,” he said with his mouth full. He sat down on a hay bale to finish consuming the flapjack and to let a hound-dog that had followed him to lick off the honey on his shirt. Hoss let the hound finish then looked up to see that Little Joe was watching him and the hound.

“That’s gross,” said Joe making a face at his brother.

Ben sighed, “Can’t we have just one day without the three of you boys doing something to make each other mad so that a fight gets started?

“I’m not starting any fight today,” said Adam. “I’m still too tired after being up so late after having to dance with all those ladies at your party last night. I didn’t get to bed until ten-o-clock.”

Two wranglers came into the barnyard leading four horses. A buckskin, a sorrel, a black, and a black and white pinto. Ben, Joe, Adam, and Hoss stepped out of the barn looking at the four horses with disgust.

“Not again,” whined Joe. “I don’t like that one. He always moves the wrong way when I go to jump on him without using the stirrup. When he does that I fall on the ground. Why can’t I have a good horse for a change? And why do they all have to be named Cochise?” (How dumb are those producers, directors and writers anyway. Just once, just once I’d like to have a big, black horse. Maybe one of those Friesian that I been hearing about. They sure are pretty.)

Each wrangler handed the proper set of reins to the proper Cartwright making sure they got the correct color of horse. One wrangler spoke to the four men, “These nags are all ready for you guys. They’ll make you look good as long as you don’t fall of like last time.” (It was Joe that had fallen off when he had given the wrong command to his horse.)

Hoss took the reins of Chub and dug into his pocket for a sugar cube. The horse ate it smacking its lips just like Hoss did after he ate a sugar cube.

With a creaking of his joints Ben climbed into Buck’s saddle. Joe jumped onto Cochise without falling on the ground. Adam got Beauty to stop circling him long enough to mount. Hoss succeeded in distracting Chub with another sugar cube so he could get on. All four rode out of the yard and off across the pasture to find where the cow herd was for the day.

There were a lot of action shots that day, but after a day full of riding here and there so they could chase cows, rope a calf or two and shoot a couple of outlaws the dumb man with the clacking boards yelled a final cut and the Cartwrights were allowed to get off their horses and hobble back to the ranch house. As they did so the storm that had been brewing all day decided to cut loose with a tremendous clap of thunder and dump several bucketfuls of cold rain water on the four men. (The directors never paid attention when their assistants told them the weather would get to bad for filming.) Soaked to the skin they ran into the house where they stood around the fireplace dripping water on the floor while Hop Sing complained to them in Chinese about the mess they were making.

“It’s not supposed to be raining,” fumed Hoss as he took off his boots so he could dry his socks. Another noisy round of thunder shook the house. “It’s Christmas Eve and it’s supposed to snow. How can Santa Claus get here if it’s pouring down rain?”

“Hoss,” shouted Adam at his younger, but bigger brother, “how many times have I told you that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.” He was trying to be heard over the sound of the storm as well as being disgusted at such immature ideas as his brothers seemed to have.

“Yes, he does, yes, he does, yes, he does,” chanted Little Joe. “I saw him once. I swear I saw Santa Claus when I was three years old, but no one will ever believe me.” The rumble of thunder snarled all around them.

“Stop it,” bellowed Ben at his sons. “I have a headache, and you’re acting like children. Grow up.”

“Supper is ready,” screeched Hop Sing. “Come eat or I throw it out.”

“Oh, goody, stew,” commented Hoss, as he ran to the table, sat down and took a big helping.

While the storm raged they ate a meal of hot stew and had a round of brandy. By then Cartwrights were more than ready for a good nights sleep. Tomorrow they would be up early to open their Christmas presents. (Not only was it Christmas it was their day off.) That is if Santa Claus found his way to their home and thought they had been good enough all year so they could have a present.

As they started to climb the stairs to their bedrooms Hop Sing came running in from the kitchen. “It snowing now. Great big snowflakes come down and make big piles of snow. Santa Claus can come now.” He giggled to himself at the thought of a magical person that brought presents to those that were good.

With yelps of joy Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe went off to bed, although they swore they wouldn’t be able to go to sleep because they were going to try to see Santa when he did come. Ben told them to shut up and go to bed so he could get some sleep.

Lying in their individual beds in their individual bedrooms all the Cartwrights listened with their ears wide open hoping to hear the clatter of tiny reindeer hooves on the roof. But instead they began to hear the whistling and whining of wind as it came in through all the tiny little cracks that were all over their logcabin home. In minutes the wind got worse turning Christmas Night into a blizzard that was piling snowdrifts higher and higher around the ranch house.

Adam got up and looked out his window after wiping a layer of frost off the glass. He couldn’t see much except the snowflakes flying here and there before the terrible wind. Ben looked out his window and wondered if the roof to the house would stay on in as bad a storm as it looked like they would have. Joe tiptoed into Hoss’ room but Hoss hadn’t woke up. The roar of the wind was so loud it was even hard to hear his brother snore. He shivered in his nightshirt and went back to his room to crawl under the covers where he could hide his head and hope that Santa would make it regardless of the storm.

After laying in their beds for several hours Ben and Adam were finally lulled to sleep by the screaming and screeching of the wind and pinging of frozen snowflakes on the windows. Hoss snored on while Joe trembled and quaked under his blankets until he reminded himself he wasn’t a little boy anymore and drifted off to sleep. For a brief second he was sure he heard the sound of sleigh bells and tiny hooves stomping on the roof and someone calling ‘Ho-ho-ho, and a Merry Christmas to All’. He tried to keep awake so that he could get up and go see if Santa Claus actually was leaving presents but he couldn’t keep his eyes open or his thoughts clear and off to slumber-land he went.

Hop Sing snoozed on all night as he wasn’t bothered by the storm or the thought of a strange fat man in a red suit accompanied by reindeer coming to visit.

It was early, very early, about eight o-clock, when the residents of the Ponderosa woke up to a Christmas-card-like landscape that would make photographers and directors shudder and quiver with delight at the sight. There were huge drifts of snow against the north sides of all the buildings. The new snow sparkled as if covered with millions of infinitesimal diamonds. Long ice cycles hung from the eves glittering in the early morning light. Bluejays squawked, sparrows chirped, and a big red rooster crowed a welcome to the new day. Squirrels chattered and flitted through the snow covered Ponderosa pine trees that surrounded the ranch house. In the pasture the cows came out of the protection of the stands of trees, shook off their snow coats and began to dig through the snow looking for grass to eat. Several deer and elk appeared on the edges of the pasture also looking for food. A group of horses decided it was time to run and play so they went bucking and squealing as they raced across the field and back again. They scattered the snow as if it was water making it sparkle even more.

In a few moments the cowhands slowly came out of the bunkhouse to see the new day and watch the animals at play. A young collie dog chased one of the barn cats around the corner of the woodpile. As the cook worked in the cookshack and Hop Sing in the kitchen smoke drifted out of the chimneys and up into the blue sky that had only a few white fluffy clouds that was all that was left of the terrible storm from the night before. Moments later the smell of coffee, bacon, and fresh bread floated out to tantalize the cowboys. Before they went in for breakfast a snowball fight broke out. The cowboys grabbed up handfuls of the white stuff and made big balls to throw at each other. They would take time to have a little fun, even if on Christmas day the stock still had to be fed and watered.

At the sound of boots thudding down the stairs Hop Sing set plates full of hotcakes, and scrambled eggs on the table. By the time Ben pulled his chair out at the head of the table Hop Sing was pouring a steaming cup of coffee for his boss.

The three Cartwright brothers trooped down the stairs, Adam following his father to the table while Hoss and Joe took time to peak at the Christmas tree. There were the same presents that had been there yesterday but now there was the addition of a new pair of boots in Joe’s size, a super sized coat that would fit only Hoss, a fancy dress shirt that looked like something Adam would wear, a couple of copper bottom cook pots for Hop Sing, and a new Stetson hat that Ben might like.

Large smiles lit the faces of all the men as they looked but didn’t touch the gifts. It was as if they were afraid if they did the gifts would disappear.

There was the sound of banging on the front door. When Joe opened it he was hit in the face by another of the snowballs that had been aimed at the door. Quickly he grabbed a jacket and ran out to join in the fun with Hoss right behind him. Even Adam was lured into the foray.

Ben and Hop Sing watched the antics and then Ben had a thought. He whispered to Hop Sing, “Where are those dang producers, writers, and cameramen when something really nice happens around here.”

The End

_____________

Bonanza Christmas

I am really not much of a Christmas person but a few years ago I wrote a couple of Christmas stories that might have happened to the Cartwrights on the old TV Western Bonanza. If you have a few minutes you might want to try one or two. Here is the first one.

Cartwright Christmas

A fire crackled in the huge fireplace warming the large, log, ranch house. Jamie gently removed the fragile, blown glass Christmas decorations from their bed of straw in the wooden box where they nestled most of the year. Carefully he hung each colored ball on a branch of the Ponderosa pine tree that stood to the side of the staircase.

Ben sat his desk, where he had been working on the ranch ledgers, and watched the boy that he had taken into his home. He packed fresh tobacco into his pipe and lit it. He and Jamie had ridden to a meadow where Jamie had selected a seven foot tall Ponderosa as the perfect tree to be the Cartwright’s Christmas tree.

Jamie had made chains out of some colored Chinese rice paper that Hop Sing had, while Hop Sing had folded the same rice paper to make birds, flowers, and animals.

Ben looked at the different ornaments on the tree. They brought back lots of memories. Draped around the tree were the strings of brightly colored beads that Marie, Little Joe’s Ma, had brought from New Orleans. There were the tiny crocheted stockings that Hoss’s Ma, Inger, had made, and the tiny cloth dolls, fairies, and snowmen that Adam’s Ma had contributed. On the top was a polished tin star that Ben, himself, had made. Under the tree sat a tattered and well-used rocking horse that had been Adams, but had been ridden by all three little boys, and most liked by Joe. With the wooden horse were a set of wooden blocks with the alphabet on them. Near by was a well-read copy of a book, entitled ‘The Night Before Christmas’ written by Clement Moore in 1822.

Thinking of his sons caused Ben to wonder where all three of them were. It had been months since they had heard from Adam. According to his last letter, Adam had been traveling all over the eastern states, seeing the country, he said, while doing some buying and trading for a friend who owned a marketing company.

Hoss, Joe, and their friend, Candy, a hired hand from the ranch, were off in northern California somewhere. Hopefully on their way back home. They had gone to deliver a small herd of breeder cows and a bull to the Dinsmore ranch near a little town called Willow Creek a few miles from the coast. It was a long trip, especially at this time of the year, but Dinsmore had paid well for the herd as a wedding gift for his son, and new daughter-in-law. Besides, Joe, Hoss, and Candy had been excited to go and see the country there.

They should have been back by now, but a telegram a few days before had said they were staying for an extra couple of days with the Dinsmores. The telegram didn’t say why, but Ben made a bet with himself that it might have had something to do with a need to see more of the northern California country. If he had gone, Ben was sure he might have done the same.

But he wasn’t so sure that they were going to make it home in time for Christmas. It was already the 15Hop Sing came in from the kitchen and set a plate of cookies and a cup of coffee on the desk for Ben. “You no worry, Mister Cartwright. Hoss, and Little Joe, and Candy. They be back for Christmas.”

“I know, Hop Sing. I’m not worried,” said Ben to his cook, housekeeper, and special friend.

“That Mister Hoss, he can smell my cakes and cookies all the way to California.”

The black horse stopped when he felt his rider shift back in the saddle. Cochise had stopped when Chub stopped, and so had Candy’s bay horse that he called, Rusty.

“Ya know? I could a sworn I smelled some a Hop Sing’s ginger bread,” commented Hoss where he sat on Chub.

Little Joe cackled. “Big brother, every time you get a teensy-weensy hollow spot in your belly, you think you smell something that Hop Sing might be cookin’.”

“Hoss, I gotta agree with Joe. But some food does sound good right now,” said Candy.

Joe clucked to Cochise, who walked on, while Joe called back over his shoulder. “Let’s go a little farther. We still got daylight.”

Candy and Hoss followed Joe. “What’s the rush, Joe?” asked Hoss.

Candy pulled his coat closer around himself, and his hat a bit lower. “A fire would feel good, too.”

Joe answered Hoss as he rode on. “It will put us that much closer to home, and I could use some a Hop Sing’s cookin’, too.”

They road for a few more minutes when suddenly Candy pulled up his bay, and stared off through the forest of big trees that they were riding through. “What was that?”

“What was what?” asked Joe. He and Hoss stared where Candy stared.

“Over there.” Candy pointed. “I thought I saw someone or maybe more than one someone darting through the trees.”

“I don’t see nothin’,” said Hoss.

“Me neither,” said Joe. “You’re imaging things, Candy.”

At that moment a large, gray hoot owl drifted down to pass just inches over their heads, making all three men duck. It continued on to land high in a dead tree. It hooted three times at them. All three of them laughed at the scare an owl had given them.

Candy shook his head then urged the bay on. “I don’t think what I saw was an owl, but I know I’m getting’ tired, and I still think we’re on the wrong trail. We should’a turned east by now.”

“Well, this is the way that hand at the last ranch we stopped at said to go. This way, through the trees, ‘til we came to a fork in the road that has a sign saying Big Trees, then turn east. Said it was the best and fastest way to get to Redding where we could catch the train to go to Sacramento.”

“Well, Little Brother. I think he was foolin’ with ya. We should a turned east back at the saloon and gone to Redding.”

“Over there?” Candy hissed in a loud whisper, and pointed to his right. “I thought I saw someone, again.”

They all looked but couldn’t see anything.

“Joe, I think we gotta get Candy some food and a bed for the night.”

They rode on for a while in silence. There were huge trees everywhere they looked. Big trees that had almost a scary look to them. It was as if the trees were watching them.

“Them sure is ‘bout the biggest trees I done ever seen,” commented Hoss. “You could build a whole house out a just one tree. They make our Ponderosa pines look like match sticks.”

“They sure are big,” agreed Joe. “Would be a lot of board feet in each one. They must be them giant redwood cedars we heard about from Hank Dinsmore.” Joe stopped Cochise and scrutinized the area around them from one side of the trail to the other, then back. “Over there. A little old man. Peakin’ round that tree.” He pointed at a huge redwood among the forest of trees, ferns, and brush that seemed to be getting thicker and more impenetrable the farther they went.

“You’re as bad as Candy, Joe. I don’t see nothin’,”

“So I’m imagin’ things, am I? Now who’s imagin’, cause I don’t see nothin’, either.” Candy crossed his arms and leaned on his saddle horn. “Did he have a funny, pointed, pullover cap?”

“Yeah, he did and he had green clothes on. Bright green, with red trim.”

“See, didn’t I tell ya I saw him, too.”

Hoss slowly followed after Joe and Candy as they rode on, looking and searching through the thick trees for a sign of the little man. “You fella’s sound like you’re talkin’ ‘bout elves or leprechauns. Joe, ya see anything now?”

“Nah.” Joe guided Cochise around several of the big trees where he thought he had seen the man. “Maybe it was the owl again. Or a deer or some other animal.” A big layer of fog rolled in toward them, making it more difficult to see. As they watched the fog fill each corner and crevice of the forest a deer did poke its head out around a tree and stared at them with great, big eyes filled with wonder at finding humans in its home.

All three men sighed. “Just a deer,” said Candy.

“Come on, Joe. It’s getting’ late, and I’m starvin’, and we got this dang fog comin’ in. It’s makin’ me cold. And all this talk of little green men, and this fog, and these big trees is givin’ me the creeps.” Hoss pulled his big coat about him and fastened the top button under his chin. “Let’s find a place to hole up for the night. With this fog we’re gonna get more lost then we already are.” He urged his horse on.

Candy followed Hoss. “Yeah, thanks to our all knowing, well-informed guide.”

After a minute Joe sent his pinto after his brother and friend at a trot so he could catch up. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. The fog continued to settle deeper, and silently around them. It thickened and lay heavy making the trees and brush look like shadows. It deprived them of their usually good since of direction. Not real sure of where to go they continued on, looking for a place to spend the night.

In the distance was the faint hoot of an owl.

One horse blew softly, another shifted on the short picket line near the camp, while the third still dozed as the first distant glow to the east attempted to lighten the sky. Candy snored where he lay wrapped in a blanket, head on his saddle. Joe turned over and pulled his blanket tighter around him. Hoss cracked his eyes open slightly when his stomach growled at him. Expecting to see the fire down to just a few coals, he was surprised to see several chunks of wood had been recently added to it, and it was roaring with flames.

Hoss sat up quickly at the sight of a little man sitting on the far side of the campfire cooking a piece of meat on a stick he held over several hot coals he had pulled to the side of the fire.

“A good, fine morning to you, Hoss,” said the man.

His right hand going quickly to the Colt pistol that lay beside him, Hoss rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his left hand. He still wasn’t sure he really was seeing the little man or if he might be dreaming. “Who are you?”

The little man was dressed in green, with high, black leather boots and a brown leather jacket. There was a green cap that came to a point and had a red tassel on its tip. His pointed ears twitched as he stared back at the man who was three or four times bigger than he was.

Hoss could tell he wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t seem to be a threat. There was a gleam in his bright blue eyes and a knowing smile on his face. “I am called Donner.” He withdrew the stick and meat from the fire. He tested the meat with a finger, then tore a strip off and ate it. “My friends are called Dasher, and Blitzen. My wife is Crystal, and my daughter is Dancer.

Without Hoss realizing it four other people had come out from where they had been hiding. Two were men and two were women. Crystal removed a burlap bag from the pack of supplies that Hoss had brought so he didn’t starve on the trip. She removed the chunk of meat and sliced off several pieces. She pierced them with sticks and handed them out to the others. Dancer took two; apparently one was for her mother. Crystal sliced off a larger piece, put it on a stick and handed it to Hoss. The smell of roasting meat filled the camp. “Where ya from,” queried Hoss as he turned the stick slowly so each side of the meat could cook.

Donner took another bite. “We are from here. The Big Tree Forest. At least we are now.”

“Now?” echoed Hoss.

Donner nodded his head. “Now. Our people used to be from other places. And I think there are still some in those places. Places you call Germany, Sweden, England, Ireland. Before that we were from a far, far away planet called Vol-Can.”

“Vol-Can? Another plant? I never heard of such nonsense.” This time the questions were from Joe who had awakened and had been listening to their guests. He returned the revolver he had in his hand to its holster. He pulled on his boots, then stood, picked up the coffee pot, filled it with water from a canteen, added a measure of coffee, and set it on a hot rock at the edge of the fire. “No one can come from another planet. It’s impossible, and stupid to even think about. Keep the fantasies to your self. Just tell us who you are and what you want.”

Donner laughed. “Want? We don’t want anything, Little Joe, other than to share your fire and food. We have just been ----curious----shall I say-----about why you are here.”

“Well, we’re headed for Redding so’s we can catch a train to Sacramento, and get home fer Christmas,” explained Hoss. “But my little brother, here, listened to some drunk cowhand fer directions, and done got us lost.”

One of the other little men snickered. Joe and Hoss didn’t know if it was Dasher or Blitzen. They couldn’t tell them apart. Donner and the two women just smiled at the story.

Candy continued to snore in what appeared to be a very sound sleep.

Hoss had to ask some more questions. “I don’t mean to offend you people but why are ya’ll so small. And yer ears are pointed.”

“And how come ya know our names,” put in Joe.

One of the women, Crystal, the wife of Donner spoke. “We are unsure of why we are not like you or other people. We only have our legends to go by. Stories passed down by mouth from generation to generation for many hundreds of years.”

“Well, I always liked a good tale, don’t you, Joe?”

“Yeah. Sure I do,” answered Joe, sarcastically.

“I am called Crystal, because I can use crystal rocks to see into the future, and into the past, and to remember the stories.” She reached in the bag she had brought to the camp, and produced a shiny, bright crystal. It was about two inches long, an inch wide and pointed on one end. It almost seemed to glow. “Our stories say that hundreds of hundreds of years ago our first people came from another planet or maybe it was a star. We only know it was somewhere in the far heavens. It was called Vol-Can. The leader or king of Vol-Can wanted to send his people to other places to learn about other people and cultures.”

“But – But – How -?” Hoss tried to ask.

Crystal held up a hand to silence him. “We do not know how we got from Vol-Can to Earth. Our king put us here, and now we can never go back. As to why we are small and have pointed ears. – it is just the way we are. The legends say we were not always small. I think it has happened when we married with other earth people. There were not enough of us to continue our tribe and we found it necessary to find husbands and wives among other tribes.”

“I never heard of no Vol-Cans before. You’re just making this up,” smirked Joe.

“Maybe you have not heard of Vol-Cans. Many have not. We are also known by other names. Elves, leprechauns, fairies, gnomes, pixies, and alfars, spirits, and dwarfs. Only some people can see us. Like you, Hoss, and you, Joe. But your friend Candy can not see or hear us.”

“Now, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, if’n I was you,” said Hoss, shifting position on his bedroll trying to get more comfortable. “Candy saw one of you first, yesterday. Then Joe and I didn’t see you all ‘til I woke up this mornin’.”

“Did he now,” said Donner showing surprise, and the others looked just as upset that Candy had seen them. “Now fancy that, would you.”

“Now tell us, Mister Donner, what do ya’ll do out here?” questioned Hoss.

Donner’s daughter, Dancer was quick to answer. “We work, of course. We make things – toys, furniture, clothes, toys, and – and things. And then we sell them – in – certain – markets.”

“Did you say we make toys,” cut in Blitzen.

“Yes, toys,” Crystal added.

“We make lots of toys,” came from Dasher.

“Toys,” solemnly echoed Donner.

“Enough about the toys,” exclaimed Joe disgustedly. “So what if you make toys?”

Sweetly Dancer continued,” We do live here, so we have families, and raise our food, and chickens, and goats, and ponies. She pointed back toward the trees where four small horses or ponies stood. They had short legs, and very shaggy manes and tails. Mostly we keep to ourselves. But sometimes – sometimes we help people – like travelers who are lost.” She smiled at Joe and wiggled her pointed ears.

Joe wasn’t overly impressed. Her pointed ears sort of made him sick to his stomach. He reached for his coffee pot but it hadn’t even started to boil yet. Changing his mind he grabbed a canteen and took a swig of water. When he looked up all the elves or Vol-Cans or whoever they were had disappeared; except for Donner.

“Go back about ten miles. There is a fork you missed that goes east. It will take you to Redding. I have sent Blitzen and Dasher ahead to mark it properly. You won’t miss it this time.” He held up his right hand and made a V with his fingers. Two fingers to each side, the V in the middle. “May you have peace and a long life.” He picked up a stick and poked at the fire causing sparks to fly up. “Your friend is waking up.”

Hoss and Joe both looked over toward where Candy lay. The cowhand groaned, raised his head and noticed the two brothers gawking at him. “What’s the mater?” he asked, “you two look like you seen a ghost or somethin’.”

“Or something,” said Joe.

“Candy,” said Hoss, “I want you to meet Mister Donner.” He looked back toward the elf but there was no one there. “Where did he go?”

“Who?” asked Candy, as he pulled on his boots. “That coffee ready yet?”

Hoss tried to explain about the little elf people, but Candy just cackled with laughter. “Heck of a dream you had, Hoss.” He looked at Joe.

“Oh, it wasn’t a dream,” Joe assured Candy. “I saw ‘em, too. And so did you, yesterday.”

“You’re both pullin’ my leg.” Candy reached for the now boiling coffee pot and poured a cup. He nearly dropped it when an owl hooted at them from a nearby tree. On silent wings it lifted into the air and in seconds was gone from sight.

Big flakes of snow swirled down covering the ground, the trees, and the small travelers’ inn and eatery located in the countryside somewhere south of Boston. It looked like a welcome place of rest to the weary rider as he rode up. He dismounted, led his horse into a nearby stable, unsaddled, and rubbed down the tired animal, then gave it some hay and oats. He picked up his saddlebags, and a satchel, and stepped up on the porch of The Highland Hotel. He slapped off as much of the snow as he could, petted a small black and white collie dog that wagged its tail in greeting and opened the door. He stepped inside and took a look around the establishment. It looked clean, and neat and there was the smell of stew, fresh bread, and coffee. Just what he needed on a cold, snowy night.

A handful of people looked back at him then returned to what they were doing, except for one. “Evenin’, Sir. If’in you need a room or a meal, you have come to the right place,” said a man of about fifty with a Scottish accent. “I’m Angus McNell, but most just call me Scotty.”

The traveler dropped his bags on the floor. “I’m Adam Cartwright. A meal and a room sounds good.”

Adam drank a beer then ate a meal of the hot stew and bread. When a woman brought a pot of coffee and a cup he accepted. She poured coffee in the cup, smiled sweetly at Adam and left to refill the cups of the other diners. He leaned back in his chair, sipped the coffee and surveyed the room. Two men who looked like drummers or salesmen talked in low tones while they finished their meals. The woman who had waited on him cleaned off a table and returned the dishes to a small kitchen in the back. Scotty stood behind a bar and wiped at it absentmindedly.

Adam noticed a small tree standing in a corner by a rocking chair near the kitchen door. It was decorated with strings of popcorn, wooden stars with intricate designs cut into them and small wooden birds. On a nearby table stood three candles illuminating a small wooden nativity. Adam decided someone was a very good woodcarver. As he thought that Scotty came from behind the bar, sat in the rocker, picked up a chunk of wood and a knife from a wooden crate beside him and started carving.

Seeing the tree caused Adam to wonder what the date might be. He knew it was close to Christmas but with all the traveling he had been doing he wasn’t sure of the exact date. Maybe it was Christmas Eve.

The two drummers stood and went up the stairs to their rooms. For a few long moments there was only the sound of the fire and the snick of Scotty’s old knife as he worked on the wood.

Finally Adam spoke. “I believe it might be close to Christmas, but I’ve lost track of the date. Could you tell me what it is?”

“Ay, Mr. Cartwright. You are correct. Christmas it ‘tis. Or rather Christmas Eve. It’s still the 24Adam nodded his head. “I’m glad I didn’t miss it. I think I might have been a bit disappointed if you had said it was after Christmas.” For a moment he thought of the package of books he had sent to his family on the Ponderosa Ranch. He wondered if they had received them yet. He hoped they had, as it had been about a month since he mailed them. Memories of growing up on the Ponderosa flooded him mind, causing him to smile and wonder what his father, and brothers were doing on this Christmas Eve. Christmas had always been a magical time for him and his family.

Both women came out of the kitchen, the older one carrying a tray with two cups and a teapot. They took seats at a table where they sat drinking tea and relaxing.

The front door opened and a boy of about seven or eight came in followed by a swirl of snowflakes. The boy had an armful of wood that he dropped in a big wood box by the door. He did this about four times until the wood box was filled. The last time the collie came in with him. The snow was coming down harder and faster. It looked like they might be in for a blizzard.

Scotty added a few pieces to the fire, bringing it to a roar that warmed the big room, making everyone drozy, especially Adam. It had been a long day but he felt relucent to go to his room.

The younger woman went back to the kitchen and returned with a plate covered in sugar cookies, gingerbread and shortcakes. She offered some first to Adam, who gladly took several, and then to the other. The first bite almost melted in his mouth. They were as good as the ones he remembered Hop Sing making. Again thoughts of Hop Sing made him think of the Ponderosa Ranch and home. He wished he had gone back for Christmas but at least he had found this place to stay for the night. He decided he liked the small hotel and its residents. Maybe it would be a good idea to head west for Virginia City when spring came.

Scotty interrupted his thoughts. “That is my daughter, Kayla. She is almost as good a cook as her ma, my wife, Katherine.” He looked at the two women and winked. They ducked their heads in embarrassment. “And the boy is my grandson, Patrick. He is a good boy. Usually.”

Adam acknowledged the introduction. “I am pleased to meet you.” He nodded his head at the women. “These cookies are delightful. Patrick, thanks for keeping the wood box full of wood on a night like this.”

Patrick then ran upstairs but came back soon with four stocking. The adults grinned at him but didn’t say anything as he hung them on nails next to the tree.

Scotty teased him a bit saying, “I said you were good but do you think Saint Nick will think you have been good enough so that he can leave you a present.”

Patrick grabbed another piece of shortbread. “I hope so. I want a new book to read.”

The boys comment caused Adam to think of a story. “I know a Christmas poem,” he said. “If you would like to hear it.”

“Oh, yes, please, Mr. Cartwright.” Patrick clapped his hands in excitement.

“’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,” Adam continued with the well-known poem to the delight of the boy, his mother, and grandparents.

When he had finished Katherine said to Patrick, “Is it not time for you to go to bed?”

“Ah, Grandma, it is early yet.”

“Saint Nick will not come until you go to sleep.”

“But how does he know, Grandma, and what about the snow storm. Will he be able to come in it?”

“He uses his magic,” she whispered loud enough for all to hear.

“Off to bed with you, Lad. Morning will come soon enough,” said Scotty to the boy.

Kayla ushered her son up the stairs, with her mother following.

“Angus, are you coming?” asked Katherine, when halfway up the stairs.

“Go on with you, Woman. I’ll be along in a bit.” Scotty walked behind the bar, took down a bottle of whiskey, picked up two shot glasses, and then went to the table where Adam sat. “Will you have a drink with me, Mr. Cartwright?”

“I’ll be glad to, Scotty. And, please, call me Adam.”

“Adam, it is then, Lad.” He poured a drink into each of the two shot glasses. “To a Merry Christmas.” He raised his glass in a toast.

Adam echoed his toast. “To a Merry Christmas.”

Kayla appeared on the stairs and came down. She put a finger to her lips asking for Scotty and Adam to keep silent. As the two men watched she laid a small white shirt, and a pair of dark brown pants under the tree. Then a pair of knitted socks and gloves. She and her mom had worked hard on them so Patrick could have a new set of clothes.

Scotty went behind the bar again. He dug around for a bit and returned with a beautifully carved pony. He set it under the tree with the clothing.

“It is so pretty, Papa,” said Kayla. “Thanks for making it for Patrick.”

“Go on with you, Lass. Off to bed.”

Kayla gave her father a hug and headed back up the stairs, then turned back and called to Adam. “Goodnight, Mr. Cartwright. I’ll see you in the mornin’ for breakfast.”

“Goodnight, Kayla.”

Scotty had returned to digging behind the bar. Again he went to the tree and placed a carved cat near the pony, and an intricately carved wooden vase with it. As he returned to the bar for more things he explained to Adam. “Kayla loves Patrick more than anything. She is a widow, now, and misses her man.” He added several wooden bowls nested together and some wooden spoons. He stood up. “Mr. Cartwright, Adam, I wish you goodnight, sir.” He hesitated. “Adam, we would be pleased if you would join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Stay here for a day or so, if you wish. Wait out this storm. It is warm and dry here.”

Adam, too, had been listening to the storm that sounded as if it were getting worse. “I think that sounds like a good idea, Scotty. And a goodnight to you, too.”

The two Cartwright brothers and Candy had found their way out of the huge redwood forest with the help of the Elves. They had made their way to Redding and caught a train to Sacramento, with their horses riding in a stock car. Then it had been on to Virginia City, Nevada. It had been a long trip and the thought of the Ponderosa Ranch and home was better and better.

It was a huge relief when they were finally able to guide their horses into the ranch yard and dismount. The evening was late and the smell of supper drifted out to them when the front door opened and Jamie came running out asking a string of questions that no one could answer before he would ask another.

Ben came out to greet his sons and friend, and there was much slapping of backs and a few hug as everyone was glad they had made it back before Christmas. “How was the trip? Did the cattle get there in good condition?”

“They were in fine condition and Hank Dinsmore was pleased with them,” said Joe.

“It was a good trip, Pa,” said Hoss. “Just long. But we made it. Thanks to some help from some little people called Elves, when Joe got us lost.”

Ben crossed his arms and stared at his middle son, not sure he had heard him right. “What did you say, Hoss? Joe got you lost? Elves?”

“Elves,” echoed Jamie. “What about elves?”

“It’s a long story, Pa,” said Joe, as he swung his saddlebags over his shoulder.

“Yeah, and I’ve heard it to many times, already,” added Candy.

“Oh, and Pa, we stopped in Virginia City and picked up the mail, and there was a package from Adam” Joe un-strapped a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine from where he had put it behind his saddle on top of his bedroll.

“Well,” said Ben excitedly. “It’s nice to know that he remembered us at last. Too bad we didn’t have an address to send him at least a letter.”

“Come on,” said Hoss entering the ranch house. “I can’t wait to eat some a Hop Sings good cookin’.”

Later that Christmas Eve Ben sat by the fire watching and listening to his son’s and friends as they laughed and joked. They ate candy and cookies that Hop Sing had made. Jamie held a skillet over the fire to pop more popcorn. Hoss made a vain attempt to sing Jingle Bells.

Ben wondered where his oldest son, Adam might be on this night. They had added his gifts to the others under the tree. They felt like books, which would be like Adam who had always loved to read, as did all the Cartwrights.

Ben hoped Adam knew they were thinking of him.

Adam sat by the fire for a few more moments thinking of how much he liked it here. He liked Scotty and his family and was glad he had been asked to stay over until the storm was gone. He wondered if Scotty was trying to play matchmaker for his daughter.

The wind blew and moaned and threw sleet and snow against the windowpanes. The collie lay in front of the fire softly wined and wiggled his legs in his sleep. Probably chasing rabbits in his dreams, thought Adam. Two cats, a big tabby, and a smaller half-grown calico silently drifted in from the kitchen. They curled up together on a rag rug that lay under a small table.

Quietly Adam stood, set his valise on the table and took out several items. Going to the tree he knelt and laid two silk scarves near the gifts Scotty and Kayla had left. One was a shimmery sky blue to match Kayla’s eyes. The other was a deep yellow that would be nice for Katherine. He placed a small but sharp skinning knife with a bone handle in Scotty’s rocker. Then he put a book beneath Patrick’s stocking. It was ‘Huckleberry Finn’ by Mark Twain. He thought the boy would like it. He knew he always had.

Turning he thought he saw a face at the window, peeking in. It had looked like a short man, maybe heavy set with a long, white beard. He seemed to have on a reddish brown, pullover cap and a matching coat. Adam opened the door wondering if a late traveler needed to come in for the night. He could see no one on the porch. As he hesitated the sound of sleigh bells and hoof beats came faintly through the wind and snow. Adam could have sworn he heard someone calling out “Merry Christmas.”

The End

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