I once again owe a debt to Joan Sattler. I asked
her how A.C. would talk about looking at pretty girls and she told me he’d be
checking out the sheilas.
Thanks, Joan. I also wish to acknowledge that the idea of
“O Tannenbaum”
by Deborah Grant
December 2003
It was a typical blazing hot Christmas Day in
There were thirteen of them gathered in the large dining room
since Adam and Bronwen’s second daughter, Miranda, and her family lived in
Although Beth Cartwright Jones was now thirty-one and the
mother of four, she was as stunningly beautiful as ever. Her older daughter, Elen, did sometimes wish
her mother wasn’t quite so beautiful.
The twelve-year-old took after her father, except for her eyes. Although the color was the same dark brown as
his, the size and shape of her eyes were the same as Bronwen’s. Elen’s nine-year-old brother, Huw, had
inherited his mother’s black hair and milky-white complexion, but otherwise
took after his father’s side of the family.
Seven-year-old bespectacled Dylan had inherited Bronwen’s fine-boned
frame and nearsightedness and Adam’s cheekbones and curly black hair. Two-year-old
Now seven months pregnant with her fourth child, twenty-eight-year-old Gwyneth Cartwright Pentreath was feeling a bit frazzled since this was her first Christmas as hostess of the feast. She was still tall and willowy, which always made her pregnancies more obvious. Since she and Mark both had black hair, it was hardly surprising that all three of their sons did as well. Their oldest, six-year-old Jory, named for his paternal grandfather, was the image of his father while four-year-old Benny’s features were a combination of both parents. Their youngest son, sixteen-month-old Adam, looked exactly like his mother at that age: the same unruly black curls, large hazel eyes framed by incredibly long lashes, short straight nose and dimpled smile. Bronwen knew that whenever she saw this grandson, she was seeing what her husband had looked like at the same age. Mark’s hair was turning prematurely gray, which Gwyneth thought made him look distinguished, and he had grown nearsighted so he wore spectacles just like his wife. They were both hoping the child she was carrying would be a girl.
At age sixty, Bronwen Cartwright was slight and delicate in appearance. Her once ebony hair was now snowy-white and the brilliance of her violet eyes had dimmed a bit with age. Her face was not unlined, but on the whole time had dealt kindly with her just as it had with her husband. Adam was now seventy and his beard and the hair he had left were the same snowy white as his wife’s. He was thin and his height had shrunk from nearly six feet, two inches to just a little over six feet. Two years earlier, he had retired from the mining company that he and his brother-in-law, Rhys Davies, had started but he’d kept busy with his hobbies of photography, woodworking, music and reading. He and Bronwen liked to sing and read together just as they enjoyed spending time with their grandchildren. Bronwen gave them singing lessons and Adam taught them to ride, and now he was teaching Huw to play the guitar. They were very happy in their cozy little bungalow, which he’d designed in the Arts & Craft style, for once A.C. had headed to school the previous January, they’d both found the large, mostly empty house depressing. Rhys had also retired six months back so now his son, Llywelyn, and Mark ran the company although Adam expected A.C. would go to work at Cartwright & Davies Mining Co. once he earned his engineering degree.
After the meal Gwyneth, Beth and Elen carried the dirty dishes
to the kitchen (Bronwen’s offers of help were firmly declined) while everyone
else adjourned to the drawing room. Adam
and Bronwen both eschewed the over-stuffed sofa and armchairs and sat side by
side on a pair of chairs that he had made of
Seeing her cousin sitting on her grandpa’s lap,
At four, Benny was too old to sit on anyone’s lap (at least when his older sibling and cousins could watch), so he sat cross-legged on the floor at his grandma’s feet, facing her, and he was joined by Jory and Dylan. Only Huw sat on the sofa between his daddy and uncle. A few minutes later they were joined by Gwyneth. “Thrown out of my own kitchen,” she said indignantly, “and told to go sit down and prop my feet up.” At those words young Jory jumped up and carried the footstool to his mama, who smiled her thanks as she sat beside her husband, who put his arm around her shoulders, as she placed her slightly swollen feet on the footstool. “Did Miranda send you a family photograph?” she asked her parents.
“Yes,” Bronwen replied with a fond smile. “I brought it with us to show everyone. Now where did I put it?”
Gwyneth spotted an unfamiliar flat object on the credenza and said, “I think that must be it.” Bronwen saw where she was looking and nodded. “Huw, would you please take it to your aunt?” she asked and he jumped up with a grin and brought the framed photograph to his aunt.
Gwyneth smiled as she saw her sister, brother-in-law and their two children. Her Jory was only three months younger than Miranda’s Jon and Miranda’s Laura was a year younger than her Benny. She saw that Miranda was plump and William was bald, but they looked happy and content. Jon had inherited features from both parents but he was the only one of Adam and Bronwen’s grandchildren to have Bronwen’s enormous violet eyes. “Laura looks just like her mother,” Dafydd said as he examined the photograph.
“I keep thinking how pleased my father would have been to know one of his great-granddaughters favored my mother,” Adam said but his smile was tinged with melancholy. Ben Cartwright had passed away five years earlier at age eighty-eight and Adam knew he would never grow accustomed to a world without his beloved Pa, but he kept the promise that he’d made and did not let himself fall into despair. He deeply regretted not being at the Ponderosa at the end, but was thankful that Miranda had been with her grandpa. She was such a comfort to Pa, Joe had written. At the very end he thought she was your mother but it brought him such joy we never corrected him. Adam could see in his mind’s eye the letter from his daughter. He called me Liz and he called Jon ‘Adam’. I think he believed the three of you were together as a family just as he must have dreamed of all those years.
In spite of the pain of losing Pa, Adam was grateful he had died before he had to bury another of his three sons. Adam had never thought to outlive his youngest brother—to be the only Cartwright of his generation. Nor was he alone in his loss. His father-in-law had passed away three years ago and his mother-in-law had only survived him by five months but Adam had been able to help Bronwen cope with her grief just as she’d helped him deal with his. I’ve had to endure so many losses, he thought, but at the same time I have been so blessed, and my grandchildren are one of my greatest blessings.
His reverie was broken by one of those beloved childish voices. “Would you tell us a story, Grandpa?” Jory begged, his dark slanting eyes pleading. “About Christmas when you was a little boy and it was cold and there was snow.”
“Please, Grandpa,” Dylan added while little Adam demanded, “’Tory, Pa-pa.”
“I like the one about your first Christmas tree,” Huw offered.
“Oh yes, I like that one,” Jory exclaimed.
“It was always one of my favorites,” Gwyneth stated with a smile while thinking and Penny’s, for Christmas always brought back happy memories of her little sister.
Dafydd and Mark enjoyed their father-in-law’s stories about a time and place so different from their own childhood memories and looked at him expectantly. He smiled at them all before beginning. “It was a long time ago and I was the same age as Huw ¼
The skinny nine-year-old curled more tightly into the warm nest he’d made under the bedclothes; however, a hand shook him gently but firmly. “Time to get dressed, son,” Ben Cartwright said with a smile as he gazed lovingly on the tangled black curls of his older son. “Come on now. I need you to watch Hoss while I go take care of the stock.
Adam blinked and clenched his muscles against the cold he’d experience the moment he threw back the covers from the trundle bed he shared with his baby brother. He jumped out of bed, stuck his feet in his moccasins and hurried over to use the chamber pot.
“Good boy,” he heard his father say to his two-and-a-half-year old brother. “You didn’t wet the bed. Pa is so proud of his big boy.”
And I’m grateful the older boy thought as he got his warm flannel shirt and corduroy pants from the pegs on the wall and put them on over his wool union suit.
“I’ve got some water boiling for the oatmeal,” Ben said as he put on his overcoat and gloves before heading to the stable. He watched with a grin as the chubby toddler made his way to the chamber pot, his fine, sandy hair sticking out in all directions.
“Right, Pa,” Adam acknowledged. Then he turned to his brother. “C’mon, Hoss. Let’s get you dressed.”
Usually little boys weren’t breeched until they were three or four, but Hoss had already outgrown the frocks his older brother had worn so he was dressed in the worn but still serviceable corduroy pants and flannel shirt a kind seamstress had made his older brother when he and their pa had been traveling west.
“Why don’t you see if you can button your shirt yourself,” the older boy encouraged.
Always eager to please his idol, the toddler tried but buttoning the small buttons required more dexterity than he possessed. After a few moments of watching his brother’s frustrated fumbling, the older boy said impatiently, “Nah, you better let me do it,’ and pushed his little brother’s hands away.
‘’Kay, Adam,” Hoss said dejectedly and his sunny expression darkened.
Adam saw the sadness on his little brother’s face and felt guilty. Wasn’t Pa always reminding him that he couldn’t expect a little boy like Hoss to do all the things he could? “I bet Pa had to button my buttons for me when I was your age,” he said with an encouraging wink and was rewarded by an enormous grin. “C’mon. I’ve got to start the oatmeal and then we’ve gotta feed the chickens,” Adam said with a grin of his own.
No one seeing the two boys would have guessed they were brothers. Tall, skinny Adam, the son of Ben’s first wife, had inherited his mother’s black curls and hazel eyes and his father’s light olive skin tone. Hoss was even taller for his age than his older brother but he was stocky and he had his Scandinavian mother’s sandy brown hair, sky blue eyes and fair complexion.
After his beloved Inger’s death, Ben had taken his two
sons and spent the winter in the
“No, my mind is made up,” he’d heard his father say.
“All right, if you feel you must go, but at least leave the boys with us until you have a cabin built. Then you could come back over the mountains for them,” Mrs. Payne said.
There was a long silence and Adam felt his stomach clench into hard knots. Surely Pa wouldn’t agree, would he? He wouldn’t leave him and Hoss behind?
“No, my boys stay with me. They’ve lost their mother and I won’t let them believe their father has abandoned them.”
“It wouldn’t be abandoning them; you’d be back for them by the end of summer. It’s for their own good,” Adam heard Mrs. Payne plead. “I’d take such good care of them for you, Ben.”
His pa’s answer was too low for Adam to make it out but then he heard Mrs. Simon say, “All right, take Adam, but leave Hoss. Ben, he’s only 10 months old; how can you care for a baby that young and a seven-year-old?”
“Adam will help take care of Hoss,” he heard his pa reply. “He loves his baby brother and he’s very protective of him. I’m not inexperienced taking care of babies, and Hoss has been weaned. We’ll manage just fine.”
Knowing Pa wouldn’t leave them behind, the knots in Adam’s stomach slowly dissolved and he drifted back to sleep.
The three Cartwrights had arrived at the lake in late
spring. Acting on the advice of friends
in
Once the garden had been planted, he toiled building a
little log cabin to shelter them from the freezing winter he’d been warned
about back in
The most difficult and dangerous stage of building the cabin was stacking the logs to form the walls. Ben built a hoist to help but even so it was backbreaking and hazardous work. His temper was frayed and he was in no mood to deal with a sullen seven-year-old so he and Adam had more than one “necessary” talk while the walls were being raised. Family harmony was restored when it was time to chink the cabin and Adam proudly helped jam sticks and wood chips into the gaps and then mixed dirt, sand and water into a cement that was placed to seal the gaps between logs. Ben had no way to obtain smooth boards nor did he feel he had the time then to make a puncheon floor, so the cabin had a dirt floor and it was one of Adam’s jobs to rake it every day and keep it even. Next Ben built a good, thick door and then he put on a roof made of logs he’d split into long slabs. Once the roof was up, Ben and Adam gathered more stones for the fireplace and chimney. They used stones as far as the cabin wall and then used stick-and-daub the rest of the way. Ben was accustomed to cooking over a campfire, so he adapted easily to cooking over the fireplace using their spider, kettles and pots. If Adam sometimes longed for the delicious meals his mama used to cook, he kept his thoughts to himself.
When the cabin was finished, Ben still had to build
another for their stock, which consisted of his horse, Adam’s pony, and a milk
cow, for he had already sold his oxen to a wagon train heading over the
mountains to
This was their third winter in the high country of the
Sierra Nevadas and they were comfortable in their one room cabin, which now had
a puncheon floor and two windows with real glass panes Ben had brought over the
mountains from
If the weather allowed, on winter days Ben and the boys
would bundle up and they’d build a snowman, make angels and have snowballs
fights. On the days there was a blizzard
or it was just plain too cold, Ben devised indoor activities for the boys. He also taught Adam. Adam had outgrown his primer so Ben taught
him using the only books at hand—the family Bible and Paradise Lost—and
whatever bits of knowledge he could remember from his own schooldays. Adam soaked up learning like a sponge. He had already mastered addition and
subtraction by the time he was six and he had easily memorized the
multiplication tables. Now, at age nine,
he was doing long division problems in his head. Ben suspected he would soon be teaching his
firstborn what he could remember of algebra and geometry. Hoss was such an easygoing child that as long
as he could sit on his pa’s knee and scribble on Adam’s old slate, look at one
of Adam’s picture books or play with his Noah’s
“Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Schwarz?” Adam asked that morning as the little family gathered round the kitchen table to eat their oatmeal and soft-boiled eggs. At his son’s question, Ben smiled and answered, “Yes, I remember Mr. and Mrs. Schwarz.”
The Schwarzes were one of the immigrant families who had bought supplies from Ben before beginning their trek over the mountains. After that first winter, Ben had purchased extra supplies he could sell and he was steadily building up a nest egg that he would use to purchase some cattle that coming spring.
“Do you remember that tan-en-bahm they talked about?” Adam asked, carefully sounding out the syllables of the foreign word.
“Tanenbahm?” Ben repeated quizzically. Then his expression cleared. “Oh, you mean the evergreen tree they told us
people in
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Adam replied. “Do you think maybe we could have a Christmas tree?”
“We certainly have no shortage of evergreens,” Ben said thoughtfully. “But how would we decorate it?”
“Ludwig,” Adam said, referring to the Schwarzes’ young son who was about his age, “told me they had lots of pretty little glass balls and stars they would hang on the branches.”
“Yes, but those were heirlooms,” Ben replied.
“What’s an heirloom?” Adam asked temporarily diverted by the pleasure of learning a new word.
“An heirloom is an object that’s been in a family for
several generations. Our family Bible is
an heirloom. It first belonged to your
many times great grandfather who came to
“1660?” Adam replied in wonder. “Why that was 185 years ago!”
“The Cartwrights have been in
“Gosh! That’s 206 years!” Adam exclaimed almost immediately.
“Christmas trees aren’t a British custom so we don’t have glass ornaments like the Schwarzes.”
“But Ludwig said they also hang fruit and nuts. We could hang the apples we got in
“I guess we could and we could use thread to string popcorn,” Ben remarked thoughtfully.
“Popcorn!” Hoss shouted with shining eyes, for it was one of his favorite treats.
Ben smiled at his younger son. “We’ll make some popcorn for you to eat, but Adam and I are going to string ours so we can use it to decorate our Christmas tree.” An idea suddenly came to him. “I know what else we can use for decorations! I could whittle some little animals and we could hang those on the branches.”
“Me, too!” Adam exclaimed excitedly because for his ninth birthday a couple of weeks earlier he had received a knife he could use for whittling, as long as his father was there to supervise.
“What would you like to carve, son?” Ben asked.
“I’m gonna carve Moonlight,” Adam replied, his hazel eyes shining and his usually solemn expression transformed by a blinding smile that revealed the deep dimple he’d inherited from his mother. “I bet Jesus would have liked a pony like Moonlight when he was a little boy.”
“I expect you’re right, son. You work on Moonlight and I’ll see if I can carve a sheep and a camel and maybe a donkey.” He grinned at his two sons, the most precious gifts God had given him. “I think we can spare a couple of sticks of firewood so once we’ve done the dishes, then we can get started.”
Once the dishes had been washed, dried and put in the
kitchen dresser that Ben had made, the two older Cartwrights moved the bench
closer to the fireplace where the light was better and it was warmer so their
hands wouldn’t stiffen with the cold.
Then Ben spread a quilt on the floor in front of the bench and got
Hoss’s blocks and Noah’s
After a time, Hoss grew tired of playing with his toys. He came and stood by his pa and watched him carve for a bit but then he grew restless. Ben understood that he and Adam could get more carving done while Hoss was napping, so he put down the little camel that was beginning to take form under his knife saying, “It’s not too cold today so why don’t we go look for the tree that we will cut down and bring inside for our Christmas tree.”
At his father’s words, Adam started to pout but his pout quickly changed to a dimpled grin. “We’re gonna cut down our tree?” he asked excitedly.
Ben shook his head while smiling at the nine-year-old. “I remember Mr. Schwarz said everyone put their Christmas tree up on Christmas Eve. No, I thought today we’d just look and decide which tree we’ll cut down on Christmas Eve.” He pinched his baby boy’s rosy cheek. “How about you, Hoss? You want to go look for a Christmas tree?”
“Kismus tee?” the little boy repeated, his face scrunched in bewilderment.
“You can ride with Pa on Buck while we look,” Ben replied and the little boy’s round face lit up as he nodded his head vigorously.
Ben put on his heavy overcoat and then he helped Hoss into
his coat, a hand-me-down from his brother, as were his mittens and his knitted
cap with earflaps that tied under his chin.
Ben saw with a sigh that Adam needed a new coat, for his wrists shot out
of the sleeves. His cap was also too
small, but both would have to make do this winter and next summer Ben would buy
new ones in
As they were heading out the door, Adam asked hopefully, “Can I have a carrot for Moonlight?”
They’d had a good crop that summer although they’d lost some to thieving gophers and rabbits so Ben smiled and nodded. Adam tore out the door and headed for the root cellar. As Ben and Hoss approached the corral, Adam caught up with them, brandishing two carrots. “I thought Hoss could feed one to Buck,” he said looking just a little sheepish since he’d only asked for one carrot.
Ben frowned just a little but then Hoss looked at him hopefully saying “Me feed Buck?” so he sighed and said, “Yes, you may feed Buck a carrot.” Then he looked at his older son and said sternly, “But Adam, those carrots are for us, not the horses. They have hay to eat.”
Adam nodded reluctantly and then he ran to the corral. “Look, girl. I brought you a carrot,” he said smiling at his little cremello mustang pony with her pale cream-colored coat, white mane and tail and blue eyes, and she whickered in greeting. He was soon joined by Ben, who held Hoss up so he could feed his father’s buckskin gelding the other carrot.
“Buck like carrot!” Hoss said excitedly, turning to smile at his pa. His grin was so infectious that Ben had to grin back before he kissed his baby boy’s rosy cheek. Hoss gave his pa a big, smacking kiss and then reached to gently pat Buck’s nose. “Good, Buck.”
“Moonlight likes her carrot, too,” Adam said, patting his pony’s neck. “Don’t you, girl?” As if in answer, the pony nodded her head and then bumped it against her little master’s hand, letting him know she wanted more attention.
“We’ve got to get saddled up, boys,” Ben said, standing his younger son on his own two feet.
“Right, Pa,” Adam replied and ran into the stable with Hoss at his heels. Adam returned carrying Moonlight’s blanket and saddle while Hoss carried her bridle with the reins draped over his shoulders so he wouldn’t trip. He proudly handed the bridle to his big brother, who deftly slipped it into the pony’s mouth and then slipped on the headstall. Ben smiled at his boys before heading into the stable for Buck’s tack. When he returned, Adam already had the saddle on the pony and was tightening the cinch while his little brother watched admiringly.
Ben quickly saddled Buck, and while Adam held the gelding’s reins, Ben sat Hoss in the saddle before mounting. Once his pa was mounted, Adam handed him the reins and quickly mounted Moonlight. They hadn’t ridden far when Hoss pointed at a tall ponderosa pine and cried excitedly, “Kismus tee!” Ben saw Adam’s face light up but almost immediately it changed to disappointment.
“Nah, Hoss, it’s too big. We’d never get it inside the cabin.”
“That’s right. We’re looking for a tree about the same size as me,” Ben stated, managing to keep a straight face at the disappointed looks on both faces. “Maybe an inch or two taller, but more than that and we couldn’t stand it up inside.”
“I guess,” Adam replied with a sigh of resignation that caused his father to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.
They looked but every tree was either too tall, or too short, or not well-shaped. Ben knew he had to get his little ones back into the warm cabin but just when he was about to suggest it, Adam suddenly exclaimed, “Look, Pa! Look, Hoss!”
“Pitty!” Hoss said looking where his brother was pointing and clapping his mittened hands.
Ben followed Adam’s pointing finger and saw (with excitement that matched his two young sons’) the perfect Christmas tree: no more than six feet and perfectly pyramidal in shape.
“Looks like you’ve found our Christmas tree, son,” Ben said with a wide grin. “All we have to do now is mark a trail so we can find our way back here on Christmas Eve.”
“Pa,” Adam said earnestly, “what if there’s a blizzard on Christmas Eve? Couldn’t we maybe come chop it down on December 23?”
In keeping with his son’s grave mien, Ben assumed his most solemn expression. “I think you’re right, Adam. We’ll come chop the tree down on December 23. Right now, we need to head for home so you boys don’t catch cold.”
“I hungy, Pa,” Hoss said plaintively as they headed the horses back to the cabin with Adam carefully marking the trail.
“I’ll heat up the rest of the stew and you can eat a johnnycake while you wait. Okay?” and the toddler nodded his head vigorously. “Your brother makes good johnnycakes, better than Pa’s,” to which Hoss once again nodded energetically. “You didn’t have to agree so emphatically,” Ben said with a grin as he tweaked Hoss’s turned up nose and the child giggled.
Hoss almost nodded off before he’d finished his dinner. While Ben put him to bed, Adam washed the dishes and then Ben dried them and put them up. The two of them sat down in front of the warm fire and began to carve. After about an hour, Hoss woke up and it was time for Adam’s lessons. He and his pa were soon absorbed in those so that it seemed they had just begun when Ben realized it was time to milk the cow and bed down Buck and Moonlight. He knew the hens wouldn’t be laying eggs much longer so he boiled one for each of them and sliced some potatoes and onions and began frying them. Not perhaps the tastiest of meals, but the boys didn’t complain. After everything had been cleaned and put away Ben suggested, “Why don’t we sing some Christmas carols?”
“Joy to the World?” Adam asked eagerly, for he loved to sing.
“All right,” Ben agreed with a warm smile. “Then Away in a Manger and Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”
Hoss sang words and tune of his own devising, his countenance radiant, while Ben and Adam sang the well-loved carols. Ben always enjoyed listening to his firstborn’s clear, sweet soprano, and before he tucked the boys in for the night he asked Adam to sing Silent Night. The beauty of his child’s voice brought tears to his eyes and reminded him of his first love, who had passed on her musical talent to their son.
The temperature dropped significantly that night and so, except for their chores, Ben kept the two boys in the cabin—not an easy chore with two energetic small boys. Still, two days later they both woke up with stuffy heads, streaming noses and barking coughs. Adam felt so miserable that he didn’t even resist staying in bed. Ben sacrificed a chicken so he could make broth for his little ones, for he remembered Inger preparing it for Adam when he’d had a cold.
The third morning Ben returned from his barn chores to discover his boys out of bed and getting dressed. “You two get right back into bed,” he said sternly.
“Aw, Pa, I’b not sick no bore. I don’t wanna stay in bed,” Adam whined. “Please,
“Pease,” Hoss added his plea.
Ben sighed and then put a hand on each boy’s forehead. “Well,” he admitted reluctantly, “you aren’t running a fever.” He frowned and then said slowly, “You may sit on the bench in front of the fireplace. But that’s all. Understand?”
Two heads nodded enthusiastically. After they ate their breakfast of grits and
molasses and the last of the eggs, Adam found his little carving and settled
happily in front of the fire. Hoss got
his Noah’s
“Now, where’s my little man?” he asked with a twinkle in his chocolate eyes as the older boy released his grip on the younger so he could run into his pa’s arms. Ben sat on the bench and settled the toddler on his lap, then reached over to squeeze his firstborn’s neck affectionately.
“’Tory, Pa?” Hoss asked hopefully so Ben launched into the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, his baby’s favorite. He always did the voices of the Papa Bear and Mama Bear and Adam did the voices of Goldilocks and the Baby Bear. Adam put down his carving so he could participate fully in the story, for he enjoyed his part as much as Hoss enjoyed hearing the story.
Adam spent most of the morning and afternoon working on his carving. Finally, he was finished and smiled triumphantly. He looked at the little pony he’d carved with satisfaction. Then he compared it to the figures his father had carved and threw it on the floor, his expression stormy. “It’s ugly!” he said angrily while his little brother looked at him with round eyes.
Ben bent down and picked up the little carving, holding it gently on his palm. “It’s not ugly, son. It’s an excellent carving for someone who only learned how just a few weeks ago.”
“But it’s not as good as yours,” Adam replied sullenly.
“Adam, you are only nine years old. When you are a grown man, you’ll be able to carve as well as I do. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if your carvings won’t be better than mine.”
“Really?” Adam asked and Ben smiled at the mixture of disbelief and hope in his son’s golden-brown eyes.
“Really. Why, I expect that when you grow up and become a father yourself, you’ll be carving Christmas ornaments for your own little boys and girls.”
His son looked so shocked at the idea that he would one day be a father with children of his own that Ben couldn’t help but laugh and then he tousled Adam’s thick mop of curls. “I think I’ll cut your hair tonight before you go to bed,” he added still smiling.
“Okay,” Adam replied with a grin. His curly hair was a trial. The winter they’d spent in the
Hoss noticed that his big brother no longer looked angry so he walked up and pointed to the carving in his pa’s hand. “Me see?” he asked, his bright blue eyes alight with curiosity. When Ben leaned over and held the horse where the toddler could see, he clapped his hands and said, “Pitty!”
“See, son,” Ben said to Adam. “Your brother doesn’t think it’s ugly.”
“Aw, he’s just a baby,” Adam replied, but Ben saw he was pleased nonetheless.
To keep his boys occupied inside where it was warm, Ben collected an armload of pinecones and Adam was soon busy tying thread from Inger’s sewing basket around each pinecone. Meanwhile Ben cut some old brown wrapping paper into strips and made a paste of flour and water and showed Hoss how to make a paper chain. (Adam snorted in derision when he saw his little brother’s chain, but his father’s raised eyebrow silenced any comments he might have made.
Thankfully, December 23 was a clear day and both Adam and Hoss were over their colds. The boys could hardly contain their excitement and Ben tried to be patient even though he felt that if Adam asked him one more time if they could go cut down their Christmas tree, he would go mad. At last it was time and after Ben made sure the boys were bundled against the cold (wearing three pairs of socks to keep their feet warm in their moccasins and their hats tied on with the earflaps down), they set out on Buck and Moonlight. They found Adam’s trail easily and followed it to their tree. Adam wanted to help chop it down, and pouted when his father told him no in a voice that made it clear there would be no appeal.
“You know, Adam, if you keep up the sulks, Santa Claus is going to bring you a bundle of switches,” Ben said sternly.
“Adam not bad boy,” Hoss said loyally.
“Right now he is being a bad boy,” Ben said solemnly and Adam dropped his eyes and kicked the snow.
“I don’t mean to be bad; I just don’t see why I can’t—”
“Adam!” Ben said sharply and the boy reluctantly closed his mouth but his expression was still sulky so Ben prayed for patience and received an inspiration. “You know, this snow is perfect for building a snowman. Why don’t you two build one while I cut down the tree?”
“Snowman! Snowman!” Hoss shouted, clapping his mittened hands in excitement while his older brother’s surly expression changed to one of enthusiasm. Ben gave thanks for his inspiration and chopped the tree as quickly as he could while the boys were preoccupied. He timed it perfectly so that the tree fell just as the boys were putting pinecone eyes on their creation.
Ben tied a rope around the trunk and then fastened the other end on his saddle horn so he could drag the tree behind Buck. They’d already prepared a bucket of earth before they left and, in spite of Adam’s help, Ben got the tree inside and standing up in the bucket, which was as far from the fireplace as possible.
“Now, Adam, I want you to get a half bucket of water from the well.”
“What for?” the boy asked.
“I’m going to pour it on the dirt so the tree will have plenty of moisture.”
Adam returned with the pail of water and after he watched his father pour it over the dirt in the bucket he asked eagerly, “Can we pop the popcorn now?”
“Popcorn!” Hoss cried clapping his hands in delight.
“It’s not for you, Hoss! It’s for the tree,” Adam retorted.
“I’ll pop some you can eat,” Ben promised his younger son. “You two need to get out of your coats and hang them up while I start popping the popcorn.”
Soon Ben and Adam were seated on the bench with a large pot full of popcorn between them as Ben threaded a couple of Inger’s needles and showed Adam how to thread the popcorn while Hoss sat at his father’s feet on a quilt holding a bowl of popcorn on his lap.
“Hey, Hoss! Get out of our popcorn!” Adam yelled as he spied his brother’s chubby fist dipping into their pan. “You got popcorn of your own.”
“All gone,” Hoss said mournfully.
“You’ve eaten the whole bowl?” Ben asked. “Well, if you eat anymore, I know a little boy who’s going to have a bellyache. Tell you what,” he added at the disappointed look on his little one’s face, “why don’t we sing some carols while Adam and I string the popcorn? Which would you like to sing first?”
“Fa-la-la-la!” the toddler shouted.
“You mean Deck the Halls,” Adam smirked. “Then let’s sing about figgy pudding.”
“You mean, We Wish You A Merry Christmas,” Ben corrected and Adam nodded sheepishly.
Hoss managed to sneak a few more handfuls while they sang (as did his big brother) so Ben decided to eat some as well, and he popped some more to use on the tree. He let Adam drape his string around the tree’s lower branches and then he wound his around the upper.
“Now the pinecones!” Adam exclaimed and Ben smiled at the enthusiasm displayed by his normally reserved son.
“Me help!” Hoss demanded but his brother scowled.
“You’re too little, Hoss. You’ll just make a mess.”
“Adam, this is Hoss’s Christmas tree as much as it is yours and he has a right to help decorate it,” Ben replied firmly. Then looking at his son’s sullen pout, he said with just a touch of annoyance, “I think you’d better pull that lip back in before you trip over it.”
“Trip on lip?” Hoss asked in confusion and the absurdity made Adam grin.
“Adam, you do the lower branches and Hoss and I will do the upper,” Ben stated, lifting his sturdy youngest in his arms. They finished well before Adam, the perfectionist, but Ben knew from experience that trying to hurry his fastidious firstborn was wasted effort so he helped Hoss hang the little camel and donkey, leaving Adam the sheep and his pony to hang.
After Adam finished hanging his ornaments, they all admired the tree until Adam exclaimed, “We forgot the apples!”
“We’ll put them on tomorrow evening just before you two go to bed. Right now, it’s time to fix dinner and then time for your lessons.”
Adam happened to glance up from his geography assignment just in time to see Hoss walk over to the tree and pull a kernel of popcorn off and stick it in his mouth. “Pa!” he hollered. “Hoss is eating the popcorn!” He jumped up to shove his brother away from the tree when his pa’s hand closed on his shoulder, pinning him on the bench.
“I’ll take care of it, Adam. It’s not your job to discipline your brother; it’s mine.”
“But he’s gonna ruin the tree!” Adam sputtered indignantly.
“I said I’ll take care of it,” Ben reiterated more firmly and Adam bent his head over his schoolwork although his expression was clearly rebellious.
“Hoss, you mustn’t eat the popcorn on the tree,” Ben said in a firm but gentle tone as he walked over to his younger son.
“I hungy,” the child announced.
“You already had popcorn before dinner. You don’t need any more. Besides, we’ll be having supper soon. Come away from the tree.” Hoss stuck out his lip in a pout worthy of this older brother, but he complied. Ben reached down and ruffled the little boy’s sandy hair. “While your brother is working on his lesson, why don’t you and I start supper? Would you like that?” and the child grinned broadly.
Hoss watched his pa chop potatoes, carrots and onions for the vegetable soup while munching on pieces of raw carrot. While the soup was simmering, Ben decided to make biscuits and he let Hoss use one of their glasses to cut the dough in circles. They both ended up dusted with flour and Ben let Hoss eat the leftover scraps of raw dough. By the time the biscuits were ready to go in the oven, it was time for evening chores. When they returned from milking the cow and giving the animals fresh water and hay, Ben put the biscuits in the oven while the boys washed their hands and Hoss helped Adam set the table. The biscuits were soon ready so Ben dished up the hot soup and all three slathered their hot biscuits with butter. (Adam and Hoss churned the butter; Adam had gotten quite good at it and he and Hoss both loved the sweet buttermilk.)
Hoss was tuckered out from his exciting day and went to bed without any protest. Ben and Adam played a couple of games of checkers before Adam said his prayers and slipped into bed beside his brother, who instinctively turned toward him, seeking warmth.
The next day the Cartwrights woke to discover almost a foot of new snow had fallen during the night. “Gosh, I’m glad we got the tree yesterday,” Adam announced when he got his first glimpse of the fresh layer of white covering everything in sight.
“So am I,” Ben replied. “Tell you what, boys. I need to chop some kindling so while I’m busy with that, why don’t you make snow angels and then when I finish, we’ll have a snowball fight. Hoss and I against Adam.”
Ben didn’t want the boys to stay out too long and risk catching cold, but he definitely wanted them to use up some of their excess energy for the sake of his sanity. When he finished chopping the kindling and filling the wood box, the ground in front of the cabin was covered with snow angels and his boys were covered in snow.
“You better be ready, Adam, ‘cause Hoss and I are going to trounce you,” Ben yelled as he began making a snowball, but Adam was quicker and landed one right in the middle of his pa’s back. Hoss’s snowballs fell short of the mark, but Ben’s found their target every time. He discovered Adam had an excellent aim for a nine-year-old and most of his snowballs found theirs as well. One hit Ben square in the face and Hoss laughed so hard he sat down in the snow.
“All right,” Ben said, wiping the snow from his eyes, “I concede defeat. Let’s get back in the cabin and I’ll fix you some hot cocoa.”
Both the boys whooped for joy at the mention of this
special treat. (When they had gone to
Adam helped Hoss out of his outer garments and hung them
(along with his own) on the two shorter pegs by the door while Ben carefully
measured the cocoa and the small amount of sugar he’d purchased. Soon the three of them were seated around he
kitchen table sipping hot cocoa and Ben told them about when he’d been a boy in
“December was my favorite time of the year because my
father would be home from the sea for several weeks. Your Uncle John and I only got to see him for
a few weeks out of the year because he was sailing back and forth between
“I’m glad you’re not a sailor anymore,” Adam said with a quiet intensity and Ben squeezed his shoulder and ruffled Hoss’s hair.
“So am I. I can’t imagine only seeing you two for a few weeks. You’re growing and changing every day, and I’d miss so many things.” He smiled sadly. “Besides, I know your mamas are counting on me to love you both and take care of you for them.”
“I miss Mama,” Adam said quietly and Ben answered gently, “So do I, son, just as I miss your mother. But they each left me a little piece of themselves in you and Hoss. When your brother smiles, I see his mama’s smile. And when I see you with your nose buried in a book, I’m seeing your mother. And it’s the same when I hear you sing.”
“My mother liked to sing?” Adam asked eagerly.
“She loved to sing and she had a beautiful voice,” Ben replied quietly.
“Mama liked to sing, too,” Adam remembered, a dreamy smile on his face.
“Yes, she did. I can picture both of them in the heavenly choir,” and the father and son shared a smile.
After supper that night the three sat on the bench in front of the fireplace and Ben held Hoss on his lap and put his arm around Adam’s shoulders. “Hoss, this year we’re going to do something a little different. Instead of me reciting ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, Adam is going to do it. Go ahead, son.”
Adam started off self-consciously: “’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house ¼” but by the time he reached “¼And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,” he was lost in the poem. Hoss grinned with excitement as he heard his brother describe St. Nicholas and when Adam finished Hoss asked eagerly, “Santa come?”
“That’s right, little man. Santa is coming tonight,” Ben replied with a smile. “Now before we read the Christmas story, it’s time for you and Adam to hang your stockings so Santa can fill them with goodies.”
“But Hoss can’t reach that high,” Adam declared.
“That’s why Pa is going to help him. Why don’t you go get the stockings,” and Adam ran to the clothes press and rummaged around until he found two stockings.
“My foot is bigger than Hoss’s so he can use one of my stockings,” Adam said.
“You’re a good big brother,” Ben said putting his arm around his firstborn and hugging him, but the boy quickly wriggled out of his pa’s embrace. Ben sighed a little then said, “All right, let’s hang your stockings.” He lifted Hoss up and the toddler found the nail where his stocking had been hung the previous Christmas. With help from his pa, he hung his stocking right next to his brother’s.
“Now, boys, we’re going to read the story of the very first Christmas,” Ben said as he sat back down on the bench and settled Hoss on his lap before reaching for the big family Bible. Adam moved closer to his pa as he listened intently to the story of a baby born in a stable and laid in a manger because there was no room at the inn. When Ben finished Luke’s story, he turned to his older son. “Would you like to read us the story of the Magi in Matthew?”
“Could I?” Adam asked and Ben nodded with a smile. Hoss fell asleep while Adam read and Ben noticed Adam’s eyelids were beginning to droop as well.
“I think it’s time for two boys to be in bed.” He could see Adam was going to protest so he added, “Santa Claus won’t come until you’re both in bed asleep, you know.”
Adam was pretty sure that it was Pa who actually provided his Christmas gift, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances and so he put on his night shirt and crawled into bed with Hoss after saying his prayer.
“Lookee, Hoss! Look at our stockings!” Adam shouted the next morning before the sun was up and the only light in the room came from the fireplace. He ran over to the fireplace, and standing on tiptoe, he unhooked first his bulging stocking and then his brother’s. Hoss had jumped out of bed and run after his big brother and he accepted his stocking enthusiastically. Their father had also awakened at Adam’s shout. He lit the lamp on his bedside table and walked over by the fireplace.
“Empty them on the table, boys,” he cautioned. Both boys had eyes as big and round as saucers when they shook out the contents of their stockings on the table and discovered they each had three peppermint drops, three lemon drops, three licorice sticks, a handful of raisons and an orange. “No candy until after breakfast,” Ben added quickly as he saw each boy about to pop a piece in his mouth. “Besides, you haven’t looked under the Christmas tree yet.”
The two boys instantly whirled around and Ben wished he had some means of preserving the moment when they saw the gifts under the tree: their eyes were so big and round and their mouths formed an ‘O’.
Adam’s long legs got him to the tree first. “This one says it’s for me and this one is for you, Hoss,” he said as he handed a package to his baby brother before ripping his open. “A book!” he exclaimed in delight. “The Deerslayer by James Fenimore Cooper.”
“I guess Santa Claus didn’t think you were a bad boy after all,” Ben said as he ruffled his son’s ebony curls. Then he turned to his younger son who was struggling with the wrapping paper on his gift. “Let Pa help,” he said with a smile as he tore away the paper revealing ten flat blocks painted with Biblical scenes. “It’s a Jacob’s Ladder,” he said to the child. “Watch,” and he picked it up on one end and the pictures flipped over. Hoss’s eyes grew even wider and then his pa picked up the other end and the pictures flipped over again.”
“Me! Me!” Hoss shouted and with a grin, Ben handed the boy his toy.
“There’s more, Hoss,” Adam exclaimed. “Here’s one for you and one for me.”
“These are from your grandfather,” Ben explained before he helped Hoss unwrap his gift, which was a hand-spun top. Ben was grateful his father-in-law had been thoughtful enough to send a gift for Hoss. He’s Adam’s brother, Captain Stoddard had written, so that makes him my honorary grandson. “This is how it works, son,” Ben said as he spun it between the palms of his hands.
“I got a pennywhistle,” Adam announced happily. “I told Grandfather that I’d like to have one.” He turned and smiled at his pa. “This was the best Christmas ever.”
While Adam had been telling his story, Beth and Elen had
quietly joined the others. When the
story finished, Elen spoke up. “I always
like that story, and I like the one about when you had Christmas in
“I like the one about Mama’s first Christmas,” Dylan said, turning and smiling at his mama.
“Mine and Aunt Miranda’s,” Beth replied with an answering smile. “I wasn’t quite one and she was just a little over a month old.” She smiled at her parents. “I’m sure I don’t know how you coped having two children so close together.”
Adam chuckled. “We didn’t always cope that well, did we, sweetheart?”
“No,” Bronwen replied with a little smile. “But that’s another story, or perhaps stories. I’ll never forget that special Christmas—our first here in this house with not one, but two, little ones.”
Jory spoke up then. “I like the story about how Uncle A.C. got a Christmas present before he was even born.”
“Speaking of our brother,” Gwyneth interjected. “Did anyone get a letter or Christmas card from him? He is such an appalling correspondent.”
“We haven’t heard from him,” Dafydd replied.
“We got a pretty card,” Bronwen said quickly while Adam added dryly, “and a very short letter. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes, please,” Elen and Huw said, for their uncle was a favorite and they’d missed him very much since he’d been away at school.
Adam removed the Christmas card from his pocket and passed it around. While everyone was looking at the card, he got out his bifocals and unfolded A.C.’s letter.
Dear Mama and Dad,
My mate Russell’s family has invited me to spend Christmas with them. I’m sure I’ll have a good time, but I’d rather be home with all of you. I know I haven’t been gone quite a year yet, but it seems a lot longer. I miss all of you. Sian was just beginning to walk and talk when I left and Little Adam was just a baby and now they’re both talking and walking and in a couple of months I’ll have a new nephew or niece.
I like
Tell everyone Merry Christmas for me.
Love,
A.C.
Mark smiled. “Sounds like A.C. is enjoying himself.”
“He’d better not be enjoying himself so much that his grades suffer,” Adam said with a frown.
“Now what’s the American expression?” Bronwen asked. “Oh yes. I think that’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black. You seemed to have forgotten the time you spent courting Julia Quincy your freshman year.”
Adam frowned at her for a moment before he shook his head and grinned. “Touché,” he said, bowing his head to acknowledge defeat while his daughters and sons-in-law exchanged grins and the grandchildren puzzled glances.
“You mean you courted someone besides Grandma?” Elen asked in surprise.
“Oh my, yes,” Bronwen answered for him. “I don’t even want to know how many women he courted before he met me.”
“But after I met Grandma, I knew she was the only woman for me,” Adam said leaning over to give Bronwen a quick kiss.
“Did you have any beaus before Grandpa?” Elen asked curiously as she watched her grandparents smile at each other.
“Yes, I did,” Bronwen said with a smile. “But I didn’t love them and I wasn’t going to marry a man I didn’t love. I was resigned to living as a spinster with your great-grandparents until one day I was walking home from the library and this tall American dressed in black walked right into me. I think I fell in love with him the minute I looked into his beautiful eyes.”
“Oh, Grandma, that’s so romantic,” Elen breathed while her brothers and older cousins rolled their eyes.
“I wish I could see the Ponderosa,” Huw said, changing the subject. “I know I was there for Aunt Miranda’s wedding, but I was just a baby so I can’t remember it.”
“Well, maybe you’ll have another chance,” Adam replied with a slow smile. “Your Grandma and I and your daddies have gone together to give your mamas their Christmas gift. Next fall, in May or June, all of you and your mamas will be coming with Grandma and me to visit your Aunt Miranda and her family and I think we could pay a short visit to the Ponderosa as well.”
Beth and Gwyneth looked at their husbands in shock. “We knew how much you’ve missed seeing Miranda so Mark and I decided we could survive without you for a couple of months,” Dafydd said with a huge grin.
“And Aunt Matilda has insisted that we both come eat our meals at their house,” Mark added with a wink. “We’ll miss all of you, but we want you to have this chance to be with your sister and see your nephew and niece.” Gwyneth and Beth both flung their arms around their husbands and kissed them while Adam put his arm around Bronwen and hugged her and they smiled at the thought of being together with their girls and their grandchildren.
After a few minutes, Dylan spoke up. “Could we sing some Christmas carols?”
“Of course, Dylan bach,” Bronwen said, reaching down to tousle his black curls.
“I brought my guitar,” Adam added, nodding to where it was propped against the wall.
“And I brought mine,” Huw added proudly while Gwyneth said, “Mine is in the library.”
“I’ll get it, Mama,” Jory exclaimed jumping up and running out the doorway.
“Don’t run with the guitar,” his mama called after him anxiously while his daddy stated, “I’d better go make sure he doesn’t have an accident carrying it.”
They moved the chairs so they formed a circle around the sofa and after a few minutes the guitars were in tune. Mark’s dark bass, Adam’s creamy baritone and Dafydd’s light tenor harmonized beautifully with the soprano and alto voices of the women and children as they sang some of their favorite carols. When they sang O Come All Ye Faithful, Gwyneth and Dylan provided a lovely descant. The men sang God Ye Merry Gentlemen as a trio while the three women plus Elen sang What Child Is This? as a quartet. Bronwen had been working with the children and they sang Away in a Manger to the delight of their parents and grandpa. Finally, Dafydd asked Gwyneth to sing Silent Night. As Adam and Bronwen listened to their daughter’s rich, clear voice sing the beautiful carol, he put his arm around her shoulders and she looked up at him and smiled, her face radiant with the same joy he felt, for it seemed they could feel the presence of all the loved ones they had lost: their parents, Hoss and Joe, and their precious Penny.
Resources:
For information on frontier life I used Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books and the following Web site:
http://www.pbs.org/wnet/frontierhouse/
For information on Christmas trees I used the following Web sites:
http://www.serve.com/shea/germusa/xmastree.htm
http://www.connerprairie.org/historyonline/xmas.html