Christmas:

By Sadie Spinner

The small boy huddled down into the nest of woolen blankets as best he could. It was cold, so very, very cold. He was just four. The wind howled and whined through the canvas of the wagon in which he rode. The ruts in the frozen mud jolted and jostled him; he tried to hold the covers around himself, and although the flaps were drawn up tight the force of the wind drove the snow into every crack and opening. He shut his eyes. The man shifted the reins of the horse from left to right hand as he blew into the gloved hand in a vain attempt to stop the biting sting. Snow was pelting his face as he pulled the thin muffler up further. His cheeks were already numb. His eyes squinted against the onslaught of sleet and snow. He half turned, opening the canvas shield just a slit.

" Adam? Are you ok?" his voice was barely audible over the sound of the wind.

"I'm ok pa", came the small muffled voice from within.

"Good boy, you keep the covers around you now."

"Yessir."

How could he tell his Pa how cold he was, how hungry he was. He just wiggled further into the little nest; how could he tell Pa about the way the drubbing of the canvas was making his ears ring. He covered them with his little hands in an attempt to reduce the deafening snap and roar. Not much inside the wagon offered even small comfort from the winter day. Unexpectedly the wagon hit a particularly deep rut; skidded on the icy road, bouncing wildly coming dangerously close to tipping over on its side. With the fear filled yelp escaping his mouth lost to the wind, the man driving, just managed to hold onto the brake while keeping the startled horse from bolting. Adam found himself out of the little nest and in a crumpled heap at the rear of the wagon. His head hurt where he hit the boards. The wagon came to a shuddering halt with a scraping sound.

Shaking, Ben Cartwright fumbled with the flap of the wagon. His fingers already numb from the cold refused to work as he franticly pulled at the ropes.

"Adam! Adam!" he shouted, his heart in his throat.

When he could not get the ice-covered rope to open, he jumped into the slushy snow slipping and scrambling. He went to the back of the wagon where the rope was not as frozen. After a seemingly intolerable length of time he worked the knot open hauling himself inside. The interior of the wagon was just slightly warmer than the outside, but it offered a buffer from the pelting snow and punishing wind; things were spilled all around from the last bone jarring rut.

"Adam?"

Ben pulled the small boy into his arms, hugging him. Adam pushed back.

"I'm ok" he insisted. His father released his hold.

"Are you sure?" he tried to inspect the boy, but his effort was resisted.

"Yeah,..... pa?"

But the look on his father's face changed his mind and he said nothing more.

"Here, let me fix your mittens and hat."

He adjusted the woolen cap, brushing the thick black hair aside then pulled up the collar of the boy's coat and made sure his mittens were on all the way. The initial fright passed, his adrenaline raised sufficiently to lose much needed body heat. A shiver ran across Ben's body, a result of wet snow now seeping into his cloths.

"P-pa you're cold."

"No, not really. Here you get back under these blankets. I have to get back up front." As he said this he settled the boy once again into the blankets. The small boy watched his father intently, his dark eyes worriedly scanning for some sign of trouble. When he had reassured himself Adam was as comfortable as he could be, Ben slipped out the back of the wagon retying the rope after him. With trembling lips he offered up a quick "thank you!"

Once his father was outside and he was sure he would not see, Adam reached up and rubbed the bump forming on the side of his head. Hot tears welled up in his eyes as he fought the lump in his throat. He would not give in. Angrily he wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve.

Outside the snow was coming faster and thicker, making it almost impossible to see, yet Ben had no choice. He had to get moving. He fought the wind and went to the side of the wagon where the left back wheel was now tangled in a tree limb that had blown down. Taking a deep breath, Ben pulled his hat down and muffler up, flapping his arms around his chest to get some warmth going. He bent to the task of freeing the wheel. The tree was slippery and wet; there was no real place to get a good grip. After several failed attempts, he fell back against the wagon, gulping in great amounts of frozen air. It burned his mouth and lungs. This would not do, he had to get the wagon free. They could not stay here in the road.

"Please Dear God, my boy will freeze if I do not get him to a warm place!"

Silently he preyed as with one last surge, he managed to dislodge the tree limb. The wagon creaked, moving ahead a few feet. Ben hurried to the front where his horse was now covered with icy snow, his whiskers frosted from his hot breath. Icicles formed in his mane, and forelock. The tired horse neighed tossing his head.

Patting the animal gently he said "I know fella, you are cold too."

Another great shiver shook Ben as he climbed up into the wagon having to push the snow off the seat, taking up the reins he clucked, "lets go." At first nothing happened. The wagon had begun to freeze in place, but with coaxing, the horse, finally began to move forward at last.

There was no way of telling what time of day it was, the gray swirls of snow obscured any signs. Ben wanted to hurry the tired horse along but he knew it was foolhardy to do so. Vainly he tried to remember how far it might still be to the town up ahead, if in fact there was a town. The last information was sketchy at best. Gritting his teeth and pulling his coat closer, he drove on. The thin blanket he pulled across his legs began to freeze stiff as they continued down the road.

Inside the wagon Adam sniffled, hunkering down, his breath making white clouds, he watched as they hung in the icy air for just a moment before disappearing. It kept him occupied for a little while, his mind off the cold, noise and empty stomach.

Long minutes dragged into an hour, then two, until the road widened and appeared to be better traveled. Ben sat up straining to see in front of them. Slowly shapes began to take form raising his hopes. He encouraged his horses to go just a bit faster. The wind shook the wagon; it protested in reply with creeks and groans. Then the vague shapes took on more defined lines. Yes it was a town or at least a handful of buildings standing haphazardly against the hillside.

****************************

Upon entering what appeared to be the main street, Ben noticed how empty it was. True it was near dark; maybe the snow had something to do with the empty feeling. Halting for a moment, he debated what to do next when he felt the flap behind him move. Adam peeked out under the canvas.

"pa what-s a matter?"

"Adam what are you doing? Get back inside. It's too cold! You will get all wet!"

"but..."

"NO buts young man," Ben growled shifting to gently push his son back to the semi warmth inside.

"yes pa".

Anger swam up in Ben's mind.

"Why won't that boy mind?" he snorted.

The horse shook his head and stomped once again. He too was cold, tired and hungry. At this point Ben could just make out what must be the local livery. He headed in that direction.

Worriedly he felt for his meager pouch. Their funds were all but depleted. Adam had grown so in the last 3 months that Ben had to replace his already too small pants and shirt, and his boots were past repair.

Despondent, he had stopped to earn some wages to tide them over. His hopes were to get as far west as he could, maybe even find his brother John's family and winter with them. That plan as so many lately had not panned out. The jobs were few and far between, the wages were less than he expected. Their prospects were at very best bleak.

Overwhelmed with grief, for the past weeks since Adams birthday brought back the devastation of the loss of Adam's mother in childbirth, Ben had wandered with no real direction until the winter interceded with this storm.

"pa?"

The small voice cut into his thoughts. Ben realized his vision was blurry, it was the storm, and icy wind, he told himself blinking furiously.

"pa, are you alright?" once again the small voice forced him to focus.

Y-y-es son,"

"When can I come out?"

" In --in a few minutes, you just stay warm for a few more minutes."

With a disheartened and very disgruntled sigh Adam rubbed his sore head and flopped back into the nest of blankets, pulling them close, he sulked glaring at the back of the wagon. " I sure am tired of this ole' wagon, an my head hurts to." He muttered half to himself.

Biting his lower lip Ben guided the horse to the door of the stable. Just as he jumped down, the livery owner came out.

"Excuse me sir."

"Oh-! " the surprised man exclaimed. " I had no idea there was anyone out here; I'm just about to close for the day, can I help you?"

" I hope so." Ben licked his lips, removing his soggy hat, nervously running his hand through his hair, replaced it; then blowing into his near frozen hands. "Wwh- what do you charge for stabling one horse for a day or two?"

The livery owner peered through the gloom and driving snow at this somewhat scruffy stranger. "Come inside for a moment, it's too cold to talk out here." The stranger hesitated momentarily looking back at the wagon. "Somethin' the matter?"

" uhh- no, no"

Sam Green was a mild, friendly man who considered himself a good judge of character. Yet he couldn't help feel just a little uneasy. After all at this hour and in this weather, but then again, it was a special night.

"What are you doing traveling in weather like this friend?"

"I- we- got caught off guard."

"We?" Sam tilted his head just a little, then wrapped his coat a little tighter. The stable warmth, the sweet smell of hay, mixed with the smell of horse and leather helped to relax him.

"How long you figger to stay?"

"Oh, just till the weather clears." the man shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

"I haven't much money; I will work for you to pay"...... his face blushed with shame under his hat and muffler.

"No need to talk of that right now," gruffly Sam mumbled, "get your horse before he freezes."

" I- I don't need....."

"Mister, do you or don't you want to stable your horse? I haven't got all day. It is late, and I am going to be in trouble with my wife in just about 3 more minutes." Sam impatiently stated. At the word wife, Sam saw the man visibly wince and almost falter.

"Hey! You ok?"

Ben nodded, stumbling blindly from the stable to the waiting animal. With great effort he managed to undo the tracers, and lead the grateful horse into the warm stall.

"Here, let me give you a hand rubbing him down. Looks like he's had a pretty rough time."

"No.. I-- I'll do it thank you,. I don't want to hold you up." Pulling off his frozen muffler Ben did not look up, pulling the frozen harness and bridle off he grabbed an empty grain sack and began to rub down the animal.

Sam stood back and watched the man's back as he worked. Perhaps he had misjudged. There were so many unsavory characters passing lately that he had resigned himself to be more cautious.

"There are oats in the bin over there, hay is in the back." Ben nodded, still not looking at him. Sam showed Ben how to secure the barn, then paused.

"Where you fixing to stay?"

"Wh- oh... I!"

Ben swallowed hard, Adam! He had forgotten Adam, who was waiting fearfully in the back of the cold almost totally dark wagon.

.

Pa had been gone for what seemed a very long time. He was cold. What if pa left him? He was cross earlier.

"You're welcome to the barn; it's not great... but..... I think you might be a bit warmer at widow Wiltons. She has a room she lets now and again and I don't think she has any one at the moment. She is a reasonable lady. Why don't you give her a try?"

Ben seemed not to hear a word he said.

"Adam.." he said softly; turning, he hurried back out.

Sam shrugged and headed out the side door bending into the now full -blown snow. He turned one more time, and stopped dead in his tracks. The man was lifting something from the back of his wagon. It was hard for Sam to be sure but from there it appeared to be a small child.

"What the...!" without another thought, he ran back.

"Hey now! What is this?.... You didn't mention a boy! Are you crazy??? You can't stay here with him, tonight any way..!!!" Sam followed him back into the stable.

The man turned on him with such fury. Sam drew back.

"Fine!" he spat and began to back the horse from the stall. Sam just gaped. The little boy stood off to the side; he could not have been more than four years old.

"Is there another place to put up my horse?" the man growled quietly, seething. He did not look up,

The little boy placed his hand in his father's. His mittens seemed old and worn.

"Just hold on now, you got me all wrong!" Sam shouted defensively.

"Do I?"

Sam moved closer to the boy who had beautiful dark eyes with thick long lashes. He stooped down to get a better look. The boy drew back pressing into the side of his fathers leg.

"How old are you, son?" he asked gently.

For a minute the child just stared at him, then standing up straight he replied, " I am four years old."

"My but you are tall."

The boy just stood still glancing up at his father, then at Sam.

"I'll bet you're hungry?"

Adam wanted to say ... "Yes---Yess" but only shrugged.

Sam stood back up. The man was staring ahead, jaw clamped, he tightened the grip on his boy. Sam now simmered down, adjusted his own coat clearing his throat. This had turned into a very awkward stalemate. It was obvious this man was a stubborn one, and from his stance, very proud. More than likely, too proud.

"Have it your way, but if I had a son.... Never mind," he threw his hands up in the air and left.

For a long time Ben Cartwright stood, ramrod stiff, clinging to the small hand. His cloths uncomfortably growing wet. The barn was now completely dark, Adam stood at his father's side and waited, and waited.

When Sam reached his home a few blocks away he was rewarded with a scathing scolding from his wife as he peeled off his outerwear and made for the fireplace.

"Sam Green, look at the mud and snow you have tracked in. What ever has come over you? Where have you been? Taking in some no account drifter no doubt!" Polly Green shook her head. That man will never change, she thought. "Well hurry and get ready, its almost dinner time," she dismissed him. Distractedly grumbling Polly went back to her kitchen.

"Pa?"

Adam got no answer,

******************************

Back at Sam's house, the vision of the small boy would not give him a moment's peace, until he called to his wife. "Polly, I have to go back to the livery. It's important; I'll only be a few more minutes,"

"WHAT! Oh no you don't!" Polly Green was short, plump and had bright amber eyes. She wiped her hands on a towel, more than ready to argue the point. Her round face scrunched up in obvious displeasure. She tapped her foot ominously.

But when Sam told her what had kept him, she looked at him completely aghast.

"For goodness sake--- why didn't you tell me?"

"You never gave me chance, dear."

Blushing, Polly shoved him towards the door,

"Well don't just stand there..."

"He won't come, I'm sure, but he might just go to Mrs. Wilton I hope.......for that child's sake."

It took just minutes for Sam to get back. Carefully he opened the side door. Just as he expected, they were still there; he lit the lantern. Both man and boy shielded their eyes.

.

"Look, Mister, I'm sorry. I meant no harm; I'm sure you can care for your boy. It's just that, well we get some strange travelers now and then. Please.....Go over to Mrs. Wilton's. I am sure she will work something out. After all, it is getting late, and from the looks of things both of you could use a hot bath and a good meal. She is a fair woman .........please."

Adam moved closer to his father; he was really cold by now. He rested his head on his father's shoulder as Ben sat on a hay bale. He would not ask, but he could hope.

Slowly Ben stirred from his misery as he felt Adam shiver at his side. Standing up, Ben began to once again rub down his horse. Adam picked up a small rag walking to the horse he reached up rubbing it's shoulder carefully, as he had been taught. The small rag did little good, succeeding only in collecting more hay and bits of mud on his mittens then it removed from the animal.

"How far is her place, and how much will it cost." Ben spoke in an empty voice.

"Just around the corner; I know it snowing pretty hard, but you shouldn't have too much trouble, there is a large trellis in front, and picket fence that runs along the street. You can't miss the big front porch. Just tell her Sam Green sent you. Hurry now, it's almost dinner."

"T-thank you."

Ben bent and gathered Adam up in the blanket he had pulled from the wagon, along with their small carpetbag. Wrapping the blanket around his son he went out.

"Lord help that man? He seems to be hurting powerful bad." Sam whispered blowing out the lamp, he trudged home through the by now six inches of snow.

***********************************

Ben hurried as best he could; the snow was slippery, and deeper than he had expected. It wasn't far to Mrs. Wilton's, but the trip was treacherous. Sam's directions were accurate but he still had trouble. Twice he almost fell and dropped Adam, who uncharacteristically hung onto his neck. Upon reaching her yard Ben hesitated then trudged up the steps to the covered porch. He was aware of the warm glow of lamplight, but he never noticed the green boughs adorning the side of the entrance. Brushing his clothes off, he set Adam down and removed the blanket. Ben took a sharp deep breath, took off his hat, and with a glance at his boy, swallowed his pride and knocked.

"Yes?" the door swung open wide to show a small rather well dressed lady, white hair pulled into a smooth bun silhouetted in warm light.

"A-are you Mrs. Wilton?"

"Yes, I am." she slowly answered, peering over her spectacles at the man at her door, pulling her shawl closer against the frigid wind. "What do you want?"

There was a slight movement that caught her eye as Adam retreated behind his father.

"Is that a child?" she demanded.

"Ye-yes, it its my son Adam; we- we got caught in the storm, Mr... Mr. Green suggested you might have a room to rent? Reasonably?" he managed to ask.

The look on the man's face was one of abject misery, fatigue, and shame.

Shaking her head, "Come on in," she sighed. Gesturing with her arm.

Ben again stiffened.

"I can pay you." he huffed.

A look of complete disbelief. Crossed her face.

"Young man, I did not ask you if you could pay, I asked you to come in out of that wind with that child before he freezes to my porch!"

Her words stung Ben; quickly he ushered Adam inside while holding their bag and the blanket in his other hand.

With the door shut behind him Ben was instantly grateful to be out of the knife like bite of the wind and into the warmth the house provided. The place fairly glowed with candles. Ben stripped his now wet coat and muffler from himself. For the second time since he hit town, Ben Cartwright became uncomfortably aware of his slightly shabby somewhat worn out apparel. Paying this no mind Hellen Wilton deftly removed them from him. Turning, he undid Adam's coat and pulled off the wool cap to reveal a mop of thick black rather disheveled hair. Ben attempted to smooth it out to make his son more presentable. When his father turned his back for a moment, Adam walked into the sitting room, his eyes wide, his small boots leaving a trail of snow. He was lured into the room by the smell of fresh pine and cinnamon that was everywhere. Behind him the lady was giving directions to someone. Adam thought he heard his father but the sight before him held him transfixed.

It was a small fir tree bedecked with popcorn strings, paper chains, and glass balls, tiny unlit candles adorned the outermost branches, all silhouetted in the light of the fire that burned brightly. Ben looked around for his son, spied him and the track he'd left. He snatched him up.

"Adam!" he scolded sharply, " What do you think you were doing?"

"Looking."

"You made a mess," his father angrily hissed between his teeth.

"No I didn't.... I didn't touch anything."

"Look at that mud" he sternly commanded.

Adam drew his eyes from his father's face and followed his out stretched hand.

"Oh," he said in a small voice, "uh-oh"

"Well...Well... there is a hot bath started for you; your room up the stairs at the back. It isn't much but it is warm and dry," she seemed not to notice the tracks. Adam had buried his face in his father so as to avoid her angry scowl, but there was none.

"Thank you," was all Ben could get out. His eyes ached, his heart hammered, still griping Adam he headed up the stairs as she had indicated. Finding the room, lamp already lit, he set the boy down by the bed, taking him by his shoulders.

"You do not answer me back! Do you understand?" he shook him,

"Yes pa." Adam responded automatically.

Ben was not sure who he was angry with, Adam, himself, Mrs. Wilton, Sam Green!

"W-well " its ok,"

Adam nodded, and turned away,

"Here, let's get those boots off. Our feet must be frozen." he tried to lighten the mood, as he sat the boy on the bed and pulled his feet free. His sox were soggy. A deep lump threatened to close off his air, as he took the small foot in his big hands and rubbed gently; it was ice cold.

"Is this better?"

Adam nodded silently, still stinging from his father's words.

Ben continued to rub Adam's cold feet and toes, then his small hands, shivering the boy hunched his shoulders causing Ben to realize his cloths were also damp; quickly he undressed him wrapping him in the blanket.

"Pa."

"Yes Adam,?"

"Um- this- um-blanket is wet"

He looked up at Ben his bottom lip pulled in, as he played with his ear, a sign he was worried or nervous.

At which point, there was a knock at the door and a voice called, "The water is ready Mister."

Ben did not answer. He just gathered Adam up, opened the door and followed Mrs. Wilton down the stairs behind the kitchen as he was instructed.

Following her directions, Ben found the steaming tub of water, testing it first, he lowered Adam in. Adam sucked his breath in between his teeth as the steaming water stung his cold chapped feet and hands. Sitting down, he found the soapy bubbles and water came nearly up to his chin. He had not been in such a deep tub before as, eyes owl wide, he reached up and grabbed onto the sides.

"Easy, son," Ben soothed as he rolled up his sleeves.

Adam just swallowed out loud. To his surprise his father chuckled softly. It was the first sound that wasn't one of pain and hurt he had heard in a long time. Ben knelt beside the tub and gently began to bath his little son. Adam sat stock- still as his father's gentle touch ran the warm rag over his small shoulders, and down his back and chest; it felt soooooo good. Ben carefully washed his feet and managed to pry his hands free, to wash them. At last he came to his face.

"Let me see that dirty face."

"I d-don't ha-" he started to protest.

Ben raised one eyebrow, but his dark brown eyes were not really angry.

"Well, not very." he defended himself in a small voice.

Ben washed his face for him, slowly lovingly.

"Are you warm yet?"

"Yes."

"Close your eyes and I will wash your hair."

Adam obediently closed his eyes; he did not like getting his hair washed. His father never seemed to be able to keep the soap out, and it burned. To his delight however tonight he did just that, no soap, no sting or burn. Once he was sure Adam was sufficiently warm and clean he lifted him out into the big towel supplied by Mrs. Wilton. It was warm from the stove in the kitchen.

Vigorously Ben rubbed his son dry.

"Now......feel better?"

"

Ummhiummm," came the answer from under the towel as Ben dried his hair.

"Pa we gonna eat?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, yeah, son... soon,"

Adam pushed his face from under the towel, his black hair shinny and going in all directions, he peered hard at his father.

"Ok, but I'm gettin' awful hungry..." He could not hold it back.

"I-Know son, I know," Ben pushed his hair back from his forehead.

Setting Adam on the chair he stripped off his own shirt and washed, shivering as the water cooled.

"What about your bath?"

"Later son,"

Adam sighed.

Going back upstairs Ben put him in his nightshirt and snuggled him into the bed.

"Ill go see about something to eat."

As Ben shut the door behind him, he rubbed his eyes; he was not sure he had enough for food and shelter.

*************************

Gathering himself up Ben bravely marched down the stairs, to be met by Mrs. Wilton, with a cup of hot mulled cider. Despite her best effort she could not get him to smile.

"Is the boy alright?"

"Y-yes he-s fine," he shifted uncomfortably,

"Look, Mrs. Wilton..... about....."

"What did you say you're name was?" She kindly asked.

"Oh, Ben, Ben Cartwright, I am sorry I didn't..........."

"No matter.. But.... You do know what day it is?... don't you?"

"Uh, no to be exact.....December something...."

"December something! Indeed!" she scoffed; her little green eyes narrowed and danced with vexation.

"Today, for your information, young man, is December 24th!"

Ben felt his mouth go dry, his body sagged into the chair, it could not be!

He looked up at her, his sorrow filled eyes pleading for her to tell him it was not so.

"Ohhhh noooo." he moaned "Adam."

"I take it you forgot?"

Ben was filled with indignation and remorse. He did not need this woman to tell him about what Adam needed or what he should be doing. Ben's eyes blazed with angry wounded pride.

"I-I.... It's just we haven't been near any town.......My boy and I will be just fine.....now if we could get something..."

He could not finish; he was so angry and devastated. How could he have forgotten to get Adam anything for Christmas. Ben stood up abruptly, handing her the cup, turning on his heels, he stalked out of the room, hot tears burned his eyes. He slammed out the front door, reaching the post at the edge of the porch, he leaned his arms on it and cried. His mind reeled he felt dizzy.

"The general store is just three blocks down that way," came a soft voice behind him as he felt his coat at his side.

"Ill keep an eye on the boy. If you hurry, Morris always stays open late on Christmas Eve; the miserly old scoundrel just can't pass up the chance of one more sale. But he is fair with his prices, go now.... Before he closes.."

.
Ben felt his coat thrust into his hand, and a small hand gently push him out into the snow. The wind had died down. The snow now falling was a soft snow with great feathery flakes that drifted down in a lazy twirling motion. Ben hurried along the darkened street in the direction he was shown and at last came upon a small shop. The only one still open it was easy to tell. He stepped in as the bell tinkled merrily; looking up a thin man in spectacles, a sharp beard, and a shawl over his shoulders, inspected him with interest, almost like a meal.

"Help you young fella?......kinda late to be shopping, lucky for you....I was just getting ready to close...." he announced with a flourish that fooled neither of them.

Ben cleared his throat.

"Ahem, uh yes, what have you got for a small boy that is reasonable?" he blushed, angry he had to admit he did not have much in the way of cash.

"Kind a late to worry about price? .... He paused to let this have it's effect "late as it is an all..." he paused again.

Ben felt the rage build within him, and it took all he had for him not to grab the man and throttle the life from him.

"Please..."

"Oohhh alright...." He sighed, aware he would not get a rise from the man.

He showed Ben over to a counter where there were a few small things. One was a book. It was battered and somewhat abused. Then there was a small wooden horse.

"How much for these?"

"Hummmm. Oh I can let ya have them for a -- say 15 cents."

Ben grimaced.

"Ok, and have you some peppermint sticks left?"

"Yes."

"And maybe an apple?"

"That I can do."

"What is the total?"

"That will be 26 cents."

Ben fished in his pouch. sucking in his breath; he reluctantly handed over the money.

'T-thank you- " he stuttered his eyes filling. As he turned to go with his meager purchases, he noticed the new green mittens. Adam's were so old and worn yet he never complained. Ben reached out and fingered them swallowing hard. He had no more money. He had foolishly bought the toy instead. Turning, with unmistakable anguish almost inaudibly he asked, "C- could you exchange the toys for these?" his cheeks burned.

The man behind the counter coolly mulled the idea over and after a painful wait for Ben, cleared his own throat.

"Tell ya what, got another 5 cents and they're yours, haven't been able to sell them all winter."

Ben looked at the man. "I don't need...." he began again.

"And I don't need these puny mittens." the shopkeeper pushed them at Ben.

Ben slapped the nickel down, snatched up the mittens and stormed out slamming the door behind him.

"Merry Christmas to you to." The shopkeeper pocketed the nickel, as he went into the back of his store.

Ben arrived back at Mrs. Wilton's to find Adam at the bottom of the stairs; he had on his coat, pouting, he was pulling on his hat.

"Adam.......what on earth?""

"Where were you????"

His dark eyes accusing and his arms folded across his chest.

" I.....I......"

,

"I told you, your father ran an errand for me, it is snowing and too cold for me to get to the store." said Mrs. Wilton softly.

Ben smiled a thin thank you to her, as he gathered up the boy, his prizes tucked away inside his coat. Upon reaching the room, he sat Adam on the bed. Pulling off his coat being sure to fold it carefully. Ben then removed Adam's hastily pulled on coat and cap placing it next to his own.

"You seem to be making a habit of disobeying me lately." He sternly told the boy, "Look at me when I am talking to you! Adam!"

Adam pulled his eyes up to his father's face; what he saw made his stomach flip flop, he was in trouble, big trouble.

Ben stood all the way up, his hands on his hips; he glared down on the small figure on the bed.

"Do you have any thing to say young man?"

"I was -- you --were....."

Adam hated to explain; why couldn't he just tell pa he was scared he had gotten lost in the snow. He had been gone a long time, and he somehow didn't trust the story the lady gave him. Adam lowered his face; he twisted his nightshirt in his fingers.

For a long few minutes Ben let Adam squirm, but after all, it was Christmas.

"I..... I...I'm s-sorry pa."

Ben sat back in the chair by the window, and continued to study Adam. Adam slid off the bed and padded over to his father, standing in front of him in his nightshirt rather thread bare and coming just to his knees. He held hands behind him, for insurance, just in case.

Ben let out a long breath.

Adam trembled, or shivered or both; it was hard to tell.

Ben pulled him into his lap; he brushed away the fringe of hair and smoothed it.

"Were you worried about me boy"? He asked gently.

Adam nodded his dark eyes cloudy.

" I see....but did I not tell you I would be back?"

Again the slight nod.

"Have I ever left you and not come back?"

There was a small shake of the little head.

"Suppose you went out and no one knew it, and I came back and you were gone?"

Adam shrugged.

"What if you got lost?.... How would I know where to look for you?"

He took the boys chin. Ben looked deep into those expressive dark, somewhat unyielding eyes.

"Adam you must promise me you will not leave somewhere if I tell you to stay there, no matter what.....Understand???" His voice though soft was very firm and left no room for doubt.... Because next time....."

He did not need to finish the sentence. Adam needed no further explanation as to the results if he did.

He nodded and with a small finger quickly brushed away the tear that threatened to give him away. Ben embraced his son placing a soft kiss on his forehead.. This night was not the time. However the fear that the boy might have gone out looking for him, made his blood run cold, almost crushed his chest, with terror.

"Good.... How about I go see about that something to eat.?"

Ben put Adam to bed once more, pointing his finger, he admonished, "You stay there."

But he grinned...... much to Adam's relief, he nodded quickly.

Ben met Mrs. Wilton at the head of the stairs; she had a tray with two plates full of steaming meat, potatoes, and other wonderful things including a fat tantalizing gingerbread boy complete with white icing and raisins.

"You know he is quite the little man. I sure would not want to have to argue with him when he grows up. He can hold his own now." handing Ben the tray she turned and, chuckling, went down the stairs.

"Merry Christmas" floated up.

**********************************

Ben was overcome with a wave of grief and pain, another holiday with out her. He stood there on the landing, hands trembling so, they threatened to dump the tray.

"Pa. are you still there? "The anxious voice called trough the closed door.

Ben forced a smile and re entered the small room.

"Do you know what night this is Adam?"

So sure, he was in trouble again from the strained look on his father's face. He whispered,

'No sir."

Ben put the tray on the dresser and crossed to Adam; the boy watched apprehensively, still not sure if he was in some kind of trouble. The moon chose that moment to slide out from under its cover and spill into the room with a liquid silver beam. The frost on the window glittered like tiny diamonds had been spread over it. Ben picked up the boy, carried him over to the window, and they both looked out onto the breathtaking view of the landscape under a velvet sky strewn with thousands of twinkling stars, the most noticeable being the Christmas Star. Somewhere far off a church bell rang and the faint sound of Christmas carols could be heard. The ice on the gently swaying trees tinkled like fine crystal.

"Adam, this is Christmas Eve." Ben whispered, and cuddled his little boy close to his chest for a long minute. "Let's eat ok? I'm starved."

Adam wanted to ask about Saint Nicholas but feared the answer, so he, as usual, said nothing. Together they shared the delightful meal graciously prepared for them, savoring every bite. It had been so long since they had such a meal. Especially the gingerbread man, which they both declared to be the very best ever!. When it was done, Ben sat Adam in his lap and opening his father's family bible, he read the gospel according to Saint Luke. Before he had finished, Adam was asleep still holding the soft velvet bookmarker in his right hand

.

With great care and tender love Ben settled his little boy into bed; closing the bible he blew out the lamp. Standing in the room lit only by moonlight he closed his eyes and fervently wished he were back with Elizabeth. What kind of Christmas was this for their son, alone in a strange town, barely enough to eat, and a small miserable few gifts. The pain was so great he feared his heart would surly shatter further still. "Oh Liz, I miss you so much," he choked

"Come to bed, .......pa -else you'll get a chill!" came the sleepy voice.

The moon light caught the silver tears that splashed down Ben's face.

"Don't worry pa. Its ok." he yawned.

Ben stifled a sob and silently undressed; as he climbed into bed, Adam wrapped his arms around his neck, and for the time let his father draw him tightly to him, and snuggled into the safety of his father's protective arms.

"Merry Christmas Adam, my son."

"Merry Chrimas...pa....... Pa?

"Yes?

"Do you think...I mean...."

Ben felt a grin forming on his face; it spread from ear to ear. He only hoped he would be able to get loose long enough to fill the little stocking before Adam ralized he was not there.

"Adam I can't say... perhaps you best go to sleep right away. Just in case...."

*************************

Early light crept into the small room at the top of Mrs. Wiltons house somewhere in the western part of Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, to find a small boy, eyes wide with wonder, as he gazed on the gifts that had appeared sometime during the night. He turned his head to the man snoring gently in the bed he had just eased himself out of. Going to the window, he scraped the frost and looked out, then tiptoed back to bed, a small wooden horse tucked under his arm and a happy smile on his lips.

A shadow moved across the bed and then slipped into the dawn,..

"Merry Christmas, Benjamin, I will always love you."

Ben turned over and pulled the boy close again. Adam was content to wait for his father to wake, so he could show him what Saint Nicholas had mysteriously left.

*********************

After much persuasion and the irresistibly enticing aromas of hot chocolate, fresh brewed coffee, frying bacon, mingling with bread just out of the oven, Ben reluctantly accepted Mrs. Wilton's relentless request they have breakfast in the kitchen this time. The tiny tree in the sitting room was covered with dancing flames glowing from the newly lit candles. Stopping by the tree Ben put his arm around his son's small shoulders, "Well Adam? What do you think? Quite a beautiful Christmas tree don't you agree." Stooping down next to him watching his face, Ben smiled.

Adam cocked his head, "They look awfully dangeros.. what if?" the constant threat of fire his father had instilled in him, over road his awe.

"Yes they can be.. But I'm sure Mrs. Wilton is careful.."

Adam looked back at the tree, the soft candlelight reflecting in his serious dark eyes. For another moment he played the danger over in his young mind. "They do sort a look like little stars huh Pa?" he continued to stare; his young face softened as the candles worked their magic. Adam let his eyes travel to the top of the tree where a figure adorned with deep blue and gold material appeared to be suspended. Standing up on tiptoe to get a better look, Adam could tell it was an angel. She held a long object with strange letters on it. Creasing his brow he asked perplexed. "What kind of letters are they?" He pointed. Ben took his hand. Adam waited, looking from his father to the tree.

"Well Adam that is Latin,"

What's Latin?" his face lit with curiosity, quite intrigued.

"That is the language they used back when the Baby Jesus was born."

"What does it mean?" Pa."

Ben scratched his head, where does that boy come up with these questions?

.

"Well what does it say?"

"Gloria in Excelsius Deo!"....It means Glory to God in the highest!" like in the First Christmas story."

Adam considered this information for a few more minutes.

" Oh... ..." His eyes ran to the bottom of the tree; there under it was a small gathering of statues. Adam squatted down to examine them. He was quiet for another long minute just studying each in turn in great detail. Standing back up, he nodded satisfied.

Ben sighed, relieved Adam had seemingly satisfied his mind. He took him by the hand once again and went into the warm kitchen where Mrs. Wilton bustled busily around.. Adam was still looking back towards the tree, maybe someday they might get to have a Christmas tree like that...maybe?

It was mid morning. The brilliant sunlight filled the small room. Even through the frosted window it was almost to dazzling to look at. The sound of people in the street calling happy greetings to each other mixed with the unmistakable jingle of sleigh bells floated on the crisp air. Ben sat with his journal writing thoughtfully; he felt so much better this morning. Glancing up he smiled at Adam sitting in bed propped up on the pillows as he studiously attempted to read his new book with the wooden horse still under one arm. Dark hair falling down over his forehead, he held the book with both hands. Lips moving silently as he puzzled out the words. Ben put aside his writing, and going over, he sat next to Adam on the bed.

"I almost got it." he proudly smiled, one of his beautiful smiles that went all the way up to his sparkling dark eyes and plainly showing his dimples.

"Here let me help you." Getting comfortable he put his arm around the boy's shoulder and quietly began to read. Adam rested his head on his father's chest stopping him now again to ask a question.

As he read, Ben reflected on this child at his side, glancing down on the thick black hair. What the future might have in store for his somewhat introverted stubborn, fiercely independent son. His gift from Elizabeth, his precious gift. A son whom he cherished more than life it's self.

Finally he came to the realization, no matter what! They had each other; that was what really counted. Christmas wasn't about the amount or cost of gifts. It was about Love, he tussled Adams hair playfully. Bringing on a somewhat bothered frown.

"Pa! Adam smoothed his hair back, "Why did you stop reading?" he reproached.

Ben just looked towards the window and the sparkling day out side.

" Just because..."

Adam hurrumped, wiggling in close, he pointed to the book.

"Read!" he firmly directed.

...

Merry Christmas to all!

I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas, and share the love found in this special time.

Sadie. (Cheryl)

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