sheryl003

Wise Men

by Sheryl

Adam Cartwright set the last bag of feed on the ground next to their rig and brushed the burlap fibers from his black vest and pants. "I'll head over to the mercantile and let Pa know we're finished," he said to his brother Hoss, leaving him to load the few remaining supplies.

"Okay, I'll meet ya down there in a couple minutes," Hoss called out to his older brother who'd started across the street.

As Adam approached the store, he spotted his youngest brother just outside the entrance, talking with a boy he hadn't seen around before. "Hey Little Joe," he said, pausing to greet the boys. "Who's your new friend?"

"Hi Adam! This here's Sean." Sean took the stick of candy out of his mouth with one dirty hand and held out the other to shake with Adam.

"Nice to meet you, Sean." Adam smiled and shook the boy's hand, wondering how on Earth he'd managed to get so filthy. He glanced at his little brother and was thankful for Joe's sake that he wasn't in the same condition. "Pa inside?" Adam tilted his head toward the mercantile.

"Yep, he's still talkin' Mr. Orowitz." Joe looked up at his brother and held out a small sack of peppermint sticks. "Want one?"

"Oh, no thanks," Adam said, smiling fondly as he opened the door. "If I were you I'd hide that, though. Hoss ought to be along any time now."

Joe looked around for his middle brother then hurriedly stuffed the sack into his coat pocket as Adam went inside.

Sean crunched up the candy as if he was starved. "You want another?" asked Joe. His pa had bought him five sticks, which would usually last him all week, but he was happy to share with his new friend. Pa was always tellin' them they should share and that was one of Pa's lessons that Joe found easy to follow. Just as he pulled the sack out of his pocket to offer the boy another stick, he felt a strong hand grip his arm. As he was tugged backward, the sack dropped to the ground and pieces of now broken candy went scattering everywhere.

"You best get outta here, boy!" Big Dan Larsson hollered, pointing a finger at Sean.

"But, Mr. Larsson...." Joe tried to protest.

"Go on, get!"

With terrified eyes, the boy backed away slowly, then turned and darted off around a building.

"What in the world is going on?" Ben Cartwright asked, rushing outside to pull his boy from Dan's firm grip.

Big Dan was still frowning in the direction the boy had run off. "That kid is bad news."

"What kid?" Ben asked, obviously bewildered.

"That kid Little Joe was just talkin' to," Larsson pointed in the direction the boy had just gone. "He done killed all the folks in his own wagon train and a whole camp of Indians."

"That little boy?" Ben practically shouted in disbelief. He'd seen the small, red-haired boy and although he was a little scruffy-looking, Ben couldn't believe he was capable of killing anyone. He wasn't any older than Little Joe.

"They say he was found by a tribe of Washoe. His ma and pa, everyone in his camp was dead, 'cept him. The Indians took him in bein' he was all alone and shortly after they started dyin' off too. The whole tribe of 'em."

"Dying of what?"

"The fever," answered Dan, as if that explained everything.

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose like he always did when he felt a headache coming on. "The fever?"

"Yep," Dan nodded. "The boy's cursed. They say anyone he gets close to ends up dead."

"Oh, come on," Ben laughed. "That's ridiculous. He's just a little boy."

"Maybe so, but facts is facts."

"Facts?" Ben gaped at him incredulously. "What facts?"

"What d'ya mean what facts?" Dan frowned, tilting his head and looking at Ben as if he had just sprouted antlers.

"Explain to me how," Ben spoke slowly, "a bout of fever going around has anything to do with that little boy."

"Well...." Dan's frown deepened. "All's I know is that the Indians call him Walking Death."

Ben looked at Adam who rolled his eyes. They both knew it was useless trying to reason with Dan Larsson at the best of times. "Come on, boys," he said, thankful to see Hoss coming their way. Ben laid a hand on the back of Joe's neck, gave it a squeeze and guided him toward their wagon.

Big Dan stared after them, miffed that Ben hadn't seemed the least bit grateful that he'd just saved Little Joe's life.

"Pa?" Joe questioned when they were closer to the wagon. "Is it true what Mr. Larsson said?"

"No, son, I don't believe in curses," he said boosting Joe up into the seat. "I'm not sure exactly what sickness might have caused those deaths, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't any fault of that boy's."

Adam climbed onto his horse and happened to look over his shoulder in time to see the boy scurry across the walk and pick up the salvageable pieces of Joe's candy then take off again. Poor kid.

_ _ _ _

"Little Joe?" Hop Sing repeated, trying to get the boy's attention. But Little Joe kept looking away, distracted by the noises he kept hearing in the brush nearby. Suddenly a large deer stepped gracefully out from behind the bushes, looked Joe squarely in the eye then turned and loped off into the woods.

"Did ya see that?" Joe asked excitedly, tugging on the oriental man's sleeve and pointing. "Did ya see that buck, Hop Sing?"

"You must be sure to pick only this mushroom," Hop Sing continued instructing, as if a great big ol' buck hadn't just been standing a few feet away. "This one here," he pointed to a similar-looking one, "is poison. Must never touch."

Joe sighed and forced himself to pay attention again. The two mushrooms kind of looked the same, he thought, but not really.

"You look by trees over there," Hop Sing directed. "I look here."

"Okay." Joe walked over to begin inspecting the area, but instead of finding mushrooms, he found Sean leaning against a thick tree, arms folded across his chest, watching him curiously.

"What are ya doin'?"

"Huntin' mushrooms," Joe told him with a grin.

"Oh," Sean looked away then back again. "I was gonna go fishin', you wanna come?"

"I can't," said Joe glumly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking a stone. Truth was, he'd much rather go fishin', but after all the beggin' he'd done to get Hop Sing to take him mushroom huntin', he couldn't really back out now. "Hey," he said, brightening. "You wanna hunt mushrooms with me?"

Sean glanced warily in the direction of Hop Sing then pushed away from the tree. "Nah, I gotta go."

"Oh, okay," Joe replied, adding a shrug to help cover his disappointment. As Sean began to walk away another idea popped into his head. "Hey! Wait! You wanna go fishin' later on?"

Sean hesitated before turning to Joe. "Just me and you?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "I know a real good spot. There's a pond right over there, not too far away."

"Okay," the boy grinned, his dirt-smudged, freckled face lighting up.

"Good! As soon as I finish helpin' Hop Sing," Joe said, glancing over his shoulder, "I'll go home and get my pole and meet ya there."

"See ya later then!" Sean waved and hurried down the path.

It wasn't too difficult for Hop Sing to figure out that Joe was wishing he was somewhere else, so after the third time he found the boy staring absently down the path and not looking for mushrooms, he decided to cut the excursion short.

Less than an hour later Joe arrived at the fishing hole. Sean was already there, sitting on the ground with his fishing pole in hand. Joe sat down a few feet away from him and pulled a nightcrawler out of his can. "This is my favorite fishin' spot," he said, as he baited his hook then dropped it into the water. "I always catch a whole lotta fish here."

"I've fished here a couple times before," Sean told him, keeping an eye on his line. "But I always catch more fish at my favorite spot."

"No foolin'? Where's that?"

"It's a secret." The boy squinted his eyes as he glanced at Joe. "Can I trust you not to tell anyone?"

"Course!"

"Well, okay." Sean gathered in his line then stood up and wrapped it around the pole. "Come on, I'll show ya."

They followed a trail that grew more and more dense with brush the further they went along. After walking about twenty minutes or so they came to a clearing where an old, run down shack stood leaning ominously to one side. Nearly hidden by reeds, not too far away from the shack, there was a pond with a dilapidated boat overturned on the shore. "This is my house," stated
Sean, as if daring Joe to deny it.

Joe simply nodded. The truth was, it looked sorta haunted to him, but he wasn't about to mention that. Besides, anyone who was brave enough to sleep there deserved his admiration.

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Sean called out, taking off toward the pond in a sprint.

Grinning, Joe followed as fast as his legs would go.

_ _ _ _

Joe knew he was late, but was hoping that Pa would be lenient with him, considering the amount of fish he was bringing home. When he walked into the house, he noticed the table was set. Pa was sitting in his chair, which he had turned so he could watch the door -- like a wolf waiting out its prey. At least that's what it felt like to Joe.

"Where have you been, Joseph?"

Joe looked down at the string of fish, wondering why his pa always felt the need to ask him questions, especially when the answer should be obvious. "Fishin'?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Suppertime?"

Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're late, Joseph. Very late."

"S-sorry, Pa."

"Please do something with those fish and get yourself cleaned up. You can clean them later."

"Yes sir." Apparently Pa wasn't as impressed with his catch as Joe had been hoping.

"I take them." Hop Sing smiled with approval as he took the fish from Joe. At least someone was impressed, thought Joe.

"Thank you, Hop Sing," said Ben. "Joseph, go wash up."

Joe hurriedly washed his hands and face then returned to the table. "I'm sorry, Pa. I was fishin' with Sean and I didn't realize how late it was."

"Sean?"

"Yeah, we was havin' a real good time and I kept catchin' fish after fish and before we knew it, well, it was startin' to get dark."

"I see." Ben picked up the plate of meat, served himself and passed it to Adam. "Well, I'm glad you had a good time, son, but from now on make sure you get home when you're supposed to."

"Yes sir, Pa." Joe nodded vigorously.

"Who is Sean?" asked Carlos, taking a piece of bread and passing it on to Joe.

"A boy I met in town yesterday." Joe took a piece of bread and passed the rest to his father.

"He's an orphan boy, about Joe's age," Adam clarified.

"Yeah, his ma and pa died a couple months ago," Joe explained. "His aunt and uncle too. They all got the fever, 'cept Sean."

"Big Dan Larsson claims the boy is cursed," Adam said with a rueful grin as he passed the plate of beef across the table.

"Cursed?" Carlos looked at him puzzled then served himself some beef and passed the plate to Joe who attempted to inconspicuously pass it on to Ben without taking any.

"Claims he's responsible for the deaths of an entire wagon train," Adam told him. "And a tribe of Indians."

"Have you heard any stories like that around town?" Ben asked Carlos, while at the same time placing a slice of beef on Joe's plate.

Joe sighed, looking down at his plate with trepidation.

"Yes, I have heard this," Carlos replied. "However, I did not believe the story was true."

"Well, I don't believe it's true either," Adam commented, looking from Carlos to his father. "Just because that kid didn't die along with everyone else, doesn't make him responsible for their deaths."

"No, son," agreed Ben. "It doesn't."

"The Indians have many..." Carlos frowned as he struggled for the proper word, "superstitions."

"Exactly," Adam agreed.

"Their superstitions are not all unfounded, though," Ben pointed out. "Sometimes there's very good reasoning for their beliefs.

"And sometimes it's just an easy way of explaining the unknown." Adam added with assurance.

"Pa, you're not sayin' you believe them, are ya?" Joe asked, sounding a little worried.

"No, son, not exactly. But it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to find out what those people died from."

"The fever," Carlos supplied matter-of-factly.

Ben smiled. "Yes, but what kind of fever?"

Carlos shrugged. "That, I do not know."

"Well, we don't know much about this boy, or where he came from...."

"I do," Joe said enthusiastically. "He came from Pennsylvania. His ma and pa were from Ireland."

"Yes, son, but you see...." Ben rested one elbow on the table and leaned toward Joe. "Well, diseases are spread in different ways. Sometimes, they can be spread by insects or other animals, sometimes by people, like with influenza. And then there are sicknesses like Cholera that come from bad water. I don't believe I've ever heard of a disease being spread by a healthy person, though." He paused thoughtfully for a moment then glanced at the untouched food on Joe's plate. "Eat your supper, Joe."

Joe looked at the beef on his plate and thought of Nellie the cute little baby calf he'd helped Hoss take care of after its mama had died and his stomach flip-flopped.

"In China," Hop Sing began, using his quiet story-telling tone of voice, "I hear of woman whose family died from mysterious illness. Afterward, the woman went to live with husband's brother and family. They all die of same illness, but woman never get illness. After that, she was given job with wealthy family and they all got illness, too."

"What happened to her?" Joe asked.

"She was made to live for rest of her life all alone on mountain. No one was ever to go there and she could never leave."

Everyone around the table sat in silence for a long moment, until finally Ben cleared his throat. "I think I'll try to do a little checking around," he said. "Just to see if anyone can tell me anything more about the illness." When all heads turned toward him, he added, "Just to be on the safe side."

Joe slumped in his chair, absently pushing the food around on his plate.

"Little Joe, I know you've become friends with Sean, but for the time being, I think it would be best for you to keep a safe distance." Ben felt terrible saying the words, but he wasn't willing to take any chances.

"Pa...."

"You better do what Pa says, little brother," Hoss interrupted. "Or ol' Saint Nick might just pass you right by tomorrow night."

Joe wrinkled his nose. "There ain't no such thing as Saint Nick."

Hoss grinned. "You sure about that?"

Carlos looked at each of them before asking, "Who is Saint Nick?"

"You ain't ever heard of Saint Nick?" Joe asked, incredulous.

Both Ben and Adam tried to hide their smiles. Ben wiped his mouth and set his napkin on the table then turned to Carlos. "One of our Christmas traditions is that on the night before Christmas a man called Saint Nick travels around the world in a sleigh. If a child has been well behaved," he
raised an eyebrow at Joe, "Saint Nick will make a stop at his house and leave a present or two in his stocking."

"His stocking?" Carlos asked, obviously appalled at the idea.

"Yes, the children are supposed to hang their clean stockings by the fireplace." Ben said with amusement. "Right Joseph?"

"Aw, Pa. I ain't a kid no more."

Everyone at the table laughed, with the exception of Joe who was busy struggling with that ever-so-small part of him that had yet to be entirely convinced that Saint Nick wasn't real.

"Well, we have a similar tradition," Carlos said, ruffling Joe's hair. "La dia de Reyes is when we celebrate the arrival of the three wise men. On the night before, we would place our shoes by the window and while we slept the three wise men would leave gifts in them."

"In your shoes?" Hoss asked, looking as appalled as Carlos had moments ago.

"Well, sometimes, we would wake to find new shoes as well."

"So on Christmas the three wise men brought presents, not Saint Nick?" Joe asked.

"Si, but not on Christmas. They come later, on the sixth day of January," Carlos explained. "If you put your boots by the window the night before, Little Joe, perhaps they will leave a gift for you," he said, grinning at Joe.

"Golly, ya think so?" Joe asked, sincerely hopeful.

"I do."

Joe beamed at Carlos and finally began eating his supper.

Ben shook his head slowly, both amazed and amused by his young son's gullibility. Seems Little Joe wasn't entirely ready to cast aside childhood fantasies after all.

_ _ _ _

In spite of the fact that it had been officially winter for a couple of days, the temperatures remained mild, more like that of early fall. In a way Joe was glad for the unseasonably warm weather because it meant he could spend more time outside and without a heavy jacket, but on the other hand, it sure would be nice if they'd get some snow -- at least for Christmas.

"I can't believe we only caught one fish," Joe said, frowning as he held up the meager day's catch.

"You mean, you caught one fish," replied Sean. "I didn't catch any."

Joe nodded, looking thoughtfully at the fish then he held it out toward Sean. "Here, you take it."

"What?"

"You take it," Joe repeated then shrugged. "It ain't enough to feed all of us anyways."

"Are ya sure?"

"Sure I'm sure!" Joe said handing the fish to Sean. "I better get home or else I'm gonna be late again."

"Okay, see ya tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Joe paused, looking down at the ground. "I don't think I'll be able to meet ya tomorrow."

"How come?"

"Cause it's Christmas," Joe said, feeling guilty because he knew Sean would be all alone on Christmas. "But, maybe...." Surely Pa wouldn't want his friend to be lonely on Christmas of all days. Maybe if he spoke to him, Pa would let Sean share dinner with 'em...or better yet, if Sean just happened to show up at their house, there's no way his pa would send him away. Not on
Christmas.

"Maybe what?"

"Well, I was thinkin' maybe you could come to our house and spend Christmas with us."

"I-I don't think so."

"Why not? Come on," Joe pleaded. "My Pa won't mind."

"Nah, that's okay. 'Sides, I don't feel much like celebratin'."

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure," Sean answered playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about me, I'll be alright. Maybe I'll see ya the day after."

"Well, if ya change your mind, you just come over anytime."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Little Joe!" A familiar voice called out, putting an end to the boys' conversation. "What are you doing? You should have been home by now."

Joe turned pleading eyes toward Carlos. "I was on my way, honest."

"Your father sent me looking for you."

"Oh great." Joe sighed long-sufferingly then waved goodbye to Sean. The way things were looking, all he was gonna end up gettin for Christmas was a good, hard tannin'.

"If I were you, I would hurry," Carlos warned, reaching down to pull Joe up in front of him on the saddle.

Once they were headed for home, Joe tilted his head back to look up at Carlos. "I sure wish Sean had someone to spend Christmas with. Do ya think maybe Pa would mind if he spent it with us?"

"I do not know, Little Joe, but I do know that he will not be pleased to know you disobeyed him today," Carlos answered him pointedly.

"You mean about stayin' away from Sean?"

"You know that is what I mean," scolded Carlos.

"Well," Joe licked his lips and smiled hopefully, "Pa doesn't have to know."

Carlos cuffed him lightly on the head. "So now you would add deceit to your list of offenses?"

"But Carlos," Joe whined piteously, "Sean ain't got nobody else. He's all alone."

Carlos shook his head. "Little Joe, I too feel sympathy for the boy," he said reasonably, "but you should not have disobeyed your father's wishes."

"I know," Joe admitted with defeat. Leaning back against Carlos, he closed his eyes to think. "I just figure that a fella shouldn't have to be alone....'specially on Christmas."

"Yes, it is very sad," Carlos replied sincerely.

"Carlos?" Joe opened his eyes and looked up.

"Yes?"

"Please, *please* don't tell Pa that I was with Sean today," Joe begged then bit his lip and frowned. "I kinda...asked Sean to come over tomorrow. He said he didn't want to and he probably won't, but just incase...well, if Pa finds out I disobeyed him he's all the more likely to say no."

"Little Joe...."

"Please!"

Carlos sighed, looking straight ahead as his horse trotted down the path. Having been forced to spend Christmas alone since being separated from his beloved family, he could empathize wholeheartedly with the boy. Simply being alone took its toll at the best of times, but being alone at Christmas time had been nearly unbearable. "Alright, I won't tell this time," he agreed begrudgingly. "But, I do not like being asked to deceive your father, Little Joe. Do not ask me to do this again."

"I won't!" Joe smiled with gratitude. "I promise!"

Carlos Rivera de Vega pondered his chances of someday being as good of a father as Ben Cartwright, or for that matter, his own dear father. He wondered if good fathers were born with strong fortitude or if it was something that became stronger with experience and sincerely hoped it was the latter.

That evening, Ben sent the boys to bed shortly after they'd finished trimming the tree he'd cut down that morning. When he'd been fairly certain they were asleep, he began to fill their stockings -- in spite of his youngest son's declaration that he no longer believed in Saint Nick. Ben indulged himself in what was probably his last year of carrying out the tradition, his mind overflowing with memories of Christmases past and his heart filled with longing for Marie's presence.

For his eldest son, he'd finally been able to get his hands on a book he'd been wanting for some time, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories, which Ben felt wasn't the most appropriate gift for Christmas, but since he hadn't been able to get the book in time for Adam's birthday, he figured he would just look at it in a literary sense and try not to think too hard about the book's contents.

At Hoss's present age, it was a little more difficult for Ben to come up with something the boy would really appreciate. Not that Hoss wouldn't have appreciated any gift given to him, but Ben wanted to get the boy something he'd be excited about. Being the middle child was not exactly a prominent position in any family. Ben knew that often times Hoss's needs had been made secondary, especially during the past year and rarely had the boy ever complained. Which is part of the reason Ben had chosen the gift that he had. It was sort of a silly thing, but he'd watched his son pause, every time
they went into the mercantile over the past few months, to smell a bottle of fancy cologne. It would be worth the ridiculous price just to see the surprise on his son's face.

Ben wasn't a hundred percent convinced that his youngest was ready for the 'genuine mother-of-pearl' handled pocket knife he'd gotten him, but Joseph had talked incessantly of it for months now and he knew that his older sons had already spent time showing him how to whittle with their own pocket knives. In fact he'd accidentally -- or not so accidentally - tossed the proof of the boy's whittling capabilities into the fire not too long ago. Ben hoped that with his new knife, Joseph would perhaps make a nice quiet statue, or maybe a toy boat? Anything, so long as it did not make a shrill whistling noise. He'd just have to make sure to have a meaningful discussion with the boy before turning him loose with it.

It was even more difficult to find something that Hop Sing would enjoy. After much thought, he'd finally settled on a purchasing a book that Hop Sing had attempted to mail order from San Francisco, months ago. Ben had no idea what it was about or even what the title was, being that it was written in Chinese, but Mr. Orowitz had let him pay the bill for it and continued to tell Hop Sing that he hadn't received it yet.

The one gift he felt truly enthusiastic about giving was the pocket watch he'd wrapped up and put into Carlos' stocking. It wasn't a particularly expensive watch, but it was valuable in the sense that it had been handed down by his grandfather. Ben hoped to convey to Carlos that he was considered part of the family.

None of the gifts could be considered extravagant, but for the Cartwright family that wasn't what Christmas was about.

On Christmas morning, Joe was up first, as usual, making an adequate amount of noise until the rest of the house was awake. After finishing the chores and eating breakfast -- something Ben had always insisted on - they were finally allowed to open their gifts.

Sitting back in his favorite chair, Ben relaxed, watching the scene with contentment. He'd always felt a sense of joy watching his children open their gifts. There had been a year or two, when money was very tight, that he and Marie had been forced to get real creative in coming up with gifts, but those Christmases would always be very special in his heart. And now that Marie was gone, he had all the more reason to cherish the memories of every Christmas they'd been blessed to spend together. How he longed for Marie. Although he was trying his best to cover his melancholy, a few times he had caught one of the boys looking at him and he'd known by their
expression that they were feeling her absence too.

His mood took a turn for the better when Carlos opened his gift and held it out, looking puzzled. "This must be a mistake," he said, trying to offer the antique watch back to Ben.

"It's no mistake, Carlos," Ben told him quietly. "You've come to mean a lot to this family. In fact, I know I'm not the only one who considers you part of this family now," he said looking at each of his son's as they nodded agreement. Then he grinned mischievously and added, "That is, if you'll have us."

Carlos' mouth dropped open and he stared at Ben, seemingly unable to respond. Then he looked away for a moment before clearing his throat and looking back. "Thank you, Ben," he said in a very soft voice. Ben just grinned at him.

To his surprise, when his family was finished opening their gifts, there was one box remaining on the hearth. "Look!" exclaimed Joe, handing the oblong package to Ben. "It's to you Pa, from Saint Nick."

Ben glanced around the room, seeing the same sense of satisfaction in their eyes that he had felt while watching them. "Well, what do ya know?" he said with a smile.

"Open it, Pa!" Joe said eagerly.

Carefully, Ben tore away the paper and then opened the lid, both surprised and pleased with what he found inside. "Well, Saint Nick shouldn't have," he said, smiling and holding up a handsome looking pipe, with a rich, dark color and a fine grain. Beneath the pipe there was a tin of imported Turkish blend tobacco. Ben wondered how in the world they'd managed to get a hold of either of these things. It wasn't like Eagle Station had any specialty stores. They must have mail ordered them months ago, without his knowledge.

"You like it, Pa?" Joe asked, his eyes filled with expectation.

"Of course, son. But, this tobacco alone must have cost...Saint Nick an awful lot of money," he said, conveying his gratitude by the warmth in his eyes.

"Nah, the pipe costed a lot more," Joe said, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

Ben nearly choked on his laughter, while Hoss, looking disgusted, hurled a wad of wrapping paper at the boy. Hop Sing quickly excused himself, mumbling about recipes as he headed for the kitchen and Carlos gave Joe a wink and ruffled his hair then motioned for the boy to join him outside.

Across the room, Adam smiled and shook his head, his blue eyes twinkling with fond amusement. Happy that at least this year Little Joe hadn't told Pa what his present was in advance.

"You really shouldn't have," Ben told him when the room was cleared.

"It wasn't just me, Pa," replied Adam. "Hop Sing and Carlos pitched in too. Believe it or not, even Hoss had some money saved up." Raising his eyebrows, he grinned. "Joe too."

Ben chuckled; he had a pretty good idea of the amount of money his youngest son would have contributed. But he had to admit he was more than a little touched that everyone had pulled together to get him something -- not only his own boys, but his extended family too. "Thank you, son," he said quietly. "I can't tell you how much it means."

The rest of the day was spent relaxing for the most part. Both Adam and Hop Sing read their books, while Hoss and Joe played checkers. Ben noticed Joe looking out the window at frequent intervals, but decided not to question the boy.

Late in the afternoon they headed outside for their evening chores. The horses and other livestock needed tending no matter what holiday was upon them. As Ben closed up the barn for the night he noticed Little Joe standing in front of the porch looking up at the evening sky and he walked over to stand beside the boy. The two of them gazed up at the multitude of brilliantly glittering stars above. "Beautiful," Ben whispered in reverence, settling his hand on Joseph's shoulder and pulling him close.

"Pa," said Joe, still looking up at the heavens, "what's that star up there?" He pointed north, toward a slightly larger star that seemed to shimmer more brightly than the others.

"You know what star that is, Joe," Ben answered, looking down at his son. "That's the North Star."

"But it looks bigger than usual, don't ya think, Pa?"

Ben studied it for a few minutes, comparing it to the others as he'd done on many occasions before. Perhaps it did, or perhaps it was only his imagination.

"Do ya think it shines brighter 'cause it's Christmas?"

Who was he to deny the possibility? "It does seem brighter tonight, doesn't it?" he said, sounding convinced.

Joe grinned up at him. "Yeah, it does."

They stood in silence for a while longer, breathing the crisp mountain air and absorbing the peace and serenity of the moment.

"Pa?" Joe said quietly, barely breaking the silence.

Ben looked down.

"Christmas ain't the same without Ma, and at first it made me real sad, but...." Joe tilted his head back and seemed hesitant to continue.

"But?"

"Well, I was thinkin', I'll bet Ma's real happy up in heaven right now. I'll bet heaven's the most beautiful place to be on Christmas, don't ya think, Pa?"

Ben kneeled down to Joe's eyelevel and looked at him with awe. "I know it is, Joseph," he said pulling the boy to his chest. "I know it is."

After dinner, Carlos settled with his back against the wall and began strumming softly on a guitar. Joe was the first to sit down beside him, but eventually everyone else put aside their tasks to listen the beautiful sound.

As he listened, Ben lit his pipe and sat back, reflecting on all the gifts he'd been granted over the past year. They'd had a great loss as well, and he doubted there would ever be a time he wouldn't wish for Marie to be with them, but looking around the room, he could be nothing but thankful for everything he had.

Before the evening was over Joe and Hoss had fallen asleep, Joe curled up in front of the fire with his head pillowed on Adam's thigh and Hoss snoring softly on the settee. Adam was still awake, but just barely.

"That was beautiful, Carlos," Ben said quietly when Carlos had set the guitar aside. "Thank you for sharing it with us."

"It was my pleasure," he replied, smiling. "I would also like to thank you, Ben..." Carlos tried to keep up the smile, but emotion caused it to falter, "for...for everything."

_ _ _ _

For the next few days the weather held, but the very last day of the year brought with it a brisk, northerly wind that promised much cooler temperatures were ahead. Joe, wanting to make the most of what might be the last warm hours for some time, had run off in search of his new friend Sean, whom he hadn't seen since Christmas Eve. The two boys spent the afternoon fishing, until the wind got too strong and they began having trouble keeping their lines from getting tangled.

"Ya know what?" Sean said, scratching his head and looking puzzled. "I've been noticin' that when we fish at your spot, I catch all the fish and when we fish at my spot, you seem to catch 'em all."

Joe tilted his head thoughtfully then looked at Sean. "Ya know, you're right!"

"So, what do ya think we should do?" Sean asked.

"Well, I dunno, I guess we should just keep doin' like we have been," Joe answered with a shrug. "At least one of us will be catchin' something."

"We probably oughtta switch off spots, ya know?" Sean said speculatively. "Like, every other day, so's we both have an equal chance."

"Okay by me," said Joe and together, the two boys began walking through the woods until they came to the fork in the path where they usually parted ways. "Hey, look!" Joe pointed to a spot on the ground next to a large pine tree. "Mushrooms!" He kneeled down and began putting them into his satchel. "You want some?" he asked Sean, scrambling to the next tree where he found another cluster.

Sean made a disgusted face. "No way. I ain't eating none of those things."

"Why not? They're good, see." Joe pulled off a chunk, stuffed it into his mouth and began to chew. It wasn't too good though, not at all like after Hop Sing cooked 'em. But it wasn't terrible either, so he kept up the act, hoping to entice Sean who he knew could always use the extra food.

Sean grinned. "I guess you won't be goin' home empty-handed after all, will ya?"

"You sure you don't want some?" Joe asked, stuffing another piece in his mouth. "You might like it."

"No thanks." Sean waved his hand dismissively and grimaced again.

Joe stood up and closed his satchel. "I best get goin'," he said then stopped. "Hey Sean, ya know how tomorrow's New Year's? Well, we always try to make kind of a celebration of it at our house. Nothin' special, we just sing songs and play games and sometimes we all sit in front of the fire and tell stories. I don't think Pa wouldn't mind if you came."

"I don't know, Joe."

"Aw, come on. It'll be fun, I promise." Joe chewed his bottom lip and studied his friend's reaction. He could tell that Sean wanted to come, but he was holding back for some reason. "This will be the first year my ma won't be there," he admitted sadly. "She always told real good stories." Joe sighed heavily and stared at the ground for several moments before squaring his shoulders and looking up. "I guess I was just thinkin' that since...you know, this is the first year you won't have your folks, well, I-I figure we could all try and make the best of things."

Sean looked intently at Joe for a long moment then sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I dunno. I'll think about it."

"Really?"

"I said I'll think about it," he repeated. "I ain't makin' no promises though."

"Okay."

"You best get goin' then."

"Yeah, well, see ya tomorrow!" Joe called out with an impish grin.

Sean tried glaring, but found himself unintentionally grinning back. "Go on, get outta here."

Halfway home, Joe ran into a familiar, dark figure, seated on his horse and dressed in flamboyant Spanish attire. "Hi Carlos,' he said amiably, then scrunching his nose, he looked up. "How come you're always the one Pa sends out after me?"

"Your father did not send me. I volunteered because I thought I might know where to find you."

"Oh, well, I was just...."

Carlos cleared his throat and waved a halting hand. "Never mind. I do not want to know."

Little Joe grinned. Sometimes, Carlos sounded just like Adam. "I just been fishin', that's all. Except I didn't catch no fish."

"What's in the bag?" he asked, once again pulling Joe up into the saddle.

"Mushrooms," he opened the flap, "see. And crawlers."

"Very good," Carlos said when he saw the mushrooms. "I think Hop Sing will be happy with you after all."

"Hey Carlos? You got any water in your canteen?" The aftertaste from the mushroom he'd eaten was startin' to get to him and he doubted he'd even be able to stomach whatever Hop Sing made with them.

Carlos smiled indulgently, pulled the canteen up, unscrewed the cap and handed it to the boy.

"Thanks," Joe said gratefully and drank the whole thing.

_ _ _ _

Ben was amazed as he looked in on the sleeping boys. The one night of the year he encouraged them to stay up late and it never failed, every year they fell asleep well before the New Year arrived.

It was after midnight and Ben was sitting in front of the fire when he heard little Joe approaching. "What are you doing up, son?"

"Pa," Joe whimpered, holding his stomach. "I don't feel...." His hand flew to his mouth, but that did nothing to prevent the vomit from spewing forth.

"Hop Sing!" Ben shouted, jumping up from the chair to take his youngest by the shoulders. "It's okay, son." He maneuvered Joe toward the hearth and grabbed the bucket they used to douse the fire and placed it in front of the boy.

Hop Sing came into the room, tying the belt on his robe. "What is it?"

"It's Little Joe." Ben glanced up momentarily. "Can you give me a hand?"

"What the matter, Pa?" Adam came out of the bunkroom, Hoss following on his heels.

"Your brother's sick," Ben acknowledged with a slight smile. "You boys go on back to bed."

After a while, Joe's stomach seemed to settle down, but he remained perched over the bucket just to be safe. "Joseph?" He heard his father say, but he was so drained all he could do was close his eyes. Ben continued to rub his back for several minutes then carefully eased the boy back. Joe's eyes remained closed, his breathing ragged.

"Little Joe?" Hop Sing said quietly as he began dabbing the boy's face with a damp cloth. When Joe's eyes opened slightly, he continued. "The mushrooms you brought home today, did you eat any of them...or any others?"

Upon hearing the word mushrooms Joe's stomach tightened up again. He squeezed his eyes closed and nodded before lunging forward for the bucket.

Ben's eyes widened and looked fearfully to the oriental man bent over his son. "Hop Sing?"

Hop Sing held up a finger and waited for the next pause.

"Little Joe?"

Joe groaned and fell back against his father.

"This very important. I need to know if you ate mushrooms you brought home, or other mushroom?"

Joe took several ragged breaths then tried to clear his throat. He felt the cool cloth on his face again and someone held a cup to his mouth. He took a drink but before his thirst was quenched, the cup was taken away. "Just a few sips, son." After a few moments of silence, Ben repeated Hop Sing's question. "Joseph, did you eat the mushrooms you brought home or another species?"

Joe swallowed several times, audibly then opened his eyes a crack. "The ones I brung home. I-I was...." But he could say no more. Just the thought of the mushrooms brought back the horrible taste that had lingered in his mouth throughout the evening and he rolled again toward the bucket.

_ _ _ _

Carlos entered the house after his early morning chores were finished, expecting to find the Cartwright's gathered around the table for breakfast as they did every morning. Instead, he found an empty table and nearly ran into Adam who was carrying a foul smelling bucket out of the bunkroom. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Little Joe's real sick," Adam told him, holding the bucket as far away from his body as he could. "He's been throwing up all night."

Carlos' eyebrows drew together and he suddenly looked stricken. After spending a small amount of time tracking Little Joe's friend to the shanty he was staying at, and a larger amount of time attempting to gain his trust, Carlos had finally managed to befriend the boy and had ended up staying the night in the unpleasant little shack. Before he'd left he had even talked Sean into accepting Little Joe's invitation to spend the day at the Ponderosa.

"He's finally settled down so we're all trying to be real quiet." Adam smiled a little and continued for the door.

Carlos hurried into the bunkroom where he found Ben seated on the edge of Joe's bed. Hop Sing and Hoss were hovering close by, as well.

Little Joe looked deathly ill. His face was pale and speckled from straining with the nausea throughout the night, but at the moment he was lying still, appearing to be peacefully asleep. Carlos wasn't sure if the stillness was a good or bad thing. The only thing he was sure of was that he had been very wrong in keeping Joe's secret. It was one thing to put himself in jeopardy, but quite another to put Little Joe at risk. He felt as if he had betrayed his friend and if anything happened to Little Joe he did not think he could bear it. Crossing himself, he said a silent prayer asking that the Blessed Mother would watch over this child and offering his own life in supplication.

"Ben," he whispered, unable to draw his gaze away from the small figure on the bed. This boy meant so much to him; he loved him as much as he would a brother - possibly more. He'd sworn to Ben and to himself that he would always watch over and protect Little Joe and he realized that he had betrayed that oath as well.

Adam came back, giving Carlos a pat on the shoulder as he passed by and placed the bucket next to the bed. "How's he doing, Pa?"

"Well, at least he isn't throwing up at the moment."

Several minutes went by in which everyone in the room simply hovered quietly, unable to do anything but watch over the sleeping boy. Just when Carlos thought he would no longer be able to endure standing by helplessly, there was a knock on the door.

"Carlos, could you see who's at the door?" Ben asked, smiling tiredly.

With a nod, Carlos left the room and went to the front door. When he opened it, he looked down at the surprisingly clean face of the boy who he'd just left a few hours earlier

"You told me to come over today," the boy said nervously. "Is it o-okay?"

Carlos stared at the boy, torn between sympathy and the irrational urge to send him away. The sound of renewed retching from the bedroom helped make his decision. "You cannot come here today," he said, pushing the boy further back and stepping out onto the porch where he folded his arms across his chest. "Little Joe is very ill."

The boy's shoulders drooped and his face glazed over first with shock then grief. He nodded absently and slowly turned and walked away. Carlos watched until the boy was out of sight then went back into the house.

He stood at the doorway to the bedroom, watching as Ben, with the help of Hop Sing, pulled off Little Joe's soiled bedclothes and began gently washing the boy. Hop Sing added the nightshirt to another pile then carried the laundry out of the room.

"Carlos, could you help me out here?" Ben asked, glancing at the man in the doorway. "Help me get this on him." With one hand Carlos lifted Joe's limp body while Ben slipped the shirt over his head and pulled it down. He settled the boy back on the clean pillowcase and gently placed his arm through one sleeve, while Ben did the same with the other arm. "There we go." Ben reached down and pulled the blankets up, tucking them around Joe's shoulders. "Hopefully he'll be able to get some rest now," he whispered, stroking his child's hair. "Who was at the door?"

"It was that boy, Sean. He was looking for Little Joe."

"Is he still here?" Ben asked, looking up.

"I sent him away."

"You sent him away?" Ben asked with disbelief.

"Yes, I sent him away," Carlos repeated. "Ben, I am sorry. I did not believe the rumors that a boy could be responsible for causing illness and death, but now...." His voice failed him and he looked down at Little Joe's exhausted face and gently brushed the back of his fingers across his soft cheek then he looked up to find Ben staring at him open-mouthed. "Please, Ben...forgive me. I knew that Little Joe had been spending time with the boy, but I did not tell you. I promised him that I would not tell you and by doing so I have betrayed you...and Little Joe," he looked away, "and myself," he added, his voice barely audible.

"Carlos, what are you talking about?"

"What do you mean what am I talking about?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "I should never have given him my promise. I should have told you he was with the boy. By not doing so, I have let you both down and if anything happens to him...."

"Carlos, just calm down for a minute, okay?" Ben said, reaching over to grasp his forearm. "Little Joe is sick because he ate some raw mushrooms. It doesn't have anything to do with Sean."

Carlos looked at him, bewildered. "But, how can you be so sure?"

"Well, we did some tracking and found the actual cause of what everyone was referring to as a fever. Those folks from the wagon train all died of anthrax. The sheep they had with them were all carrying it and when the Indians found the wagon train, they of course took the sheep. Afterwards, apparently a small group of renegades found the remaining sheep and well, they ended up succumbing to it, too."

Carlos was silent for a moment then he looked at Ben, his expression intense. "So, it wasn't because of the boy?"

"No, of course not." Ben waited a few minutes before speaking up again. "As for Little Joe," Ben gazed tenderly down at the boy, "he gave us quite a scare, but Hop Sing seems to think he'll be okay. We just need to keep giving him liquids so he doesn't get dehydrated."

Carlos sat on the bed for a long time digesting the information. He was immensely relieved that it looked like Little Joe would be all right. But still, things so easily could have turned out much worse. Ben Cartwright had done so much for him over the past year. Ben Cartwright had given him hope when he thought he had nothing to live for and Carlos had repaid him by endangering his son's life. The memories of his time of hopelessness made him think of the boy, Sean. Carlos had given the boy hope, and now he had taken it away. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him and at that moment Carlos loathed himself. "I am sorry for...for everything," he said looking at Ben with pain-filled eyes. "I must leave." Before Ben had a chance to register the words, Carlos was gone.

_ _ _ _

Joe sat in his father's lap, wrapped up in a quilt as the two of them gazed out the window, watching the fluffy white flakes dancing in the wind as they descended to cover the ground in a blanket of snow.

"It's hard to believe it was so warm out just last week," Joe said quietly, his head resting against his father's shoulder. "We didn't even have to wear coats."

"It would seem the weather has a mind of its own." Ben smiled down at the boy.

"Pa? Do you think Sean is okay?" Joe asked, looking up at his father with worried eyes. "What if he's cold or hungry?"

"I wouldn't worry too much, son." Ben wrapped his arms more tightly around Joe. "Like I told you, I put the word out around town. Everyone's keeping an eye out for him."

With a subtle nod, Joe went back to looking out the window. They both watched for a long time as the snow continued to fall steadily. Slowly but surely, Joe's eyelids began to droop. Just when Ben thought he'd fallen asleep, he felt the boy's body tense up. "Pa?" he said, tilting his head back to look at his father. "What about Carlos? Do you think he's okay? How come he ain't been home?"

Ben squeezed him again then closed his eyes, wishing he knew what to say.

"Pa?"

Ben let out a long, slow breath. "Son, I wish I could tell you where Carlos is, but I just don't know."

"Tomorrow's the sixth day of January," Joe said, then he licked his lips and looked out the window again. "La dia de Reyes."

Ben nodded. "Yes, it is."

"You remember how Carlos said that I should put my boots by the window before I go to sleep tonight?"

"Yes."

"He said if I did, the three wise men would come and leave a gift in 'em."

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, the only gift I want, Pa, is for Carlos to come home."

"I know, son."

"That and for Sean to be okay."

"Me too, Joseph," Ben answered. "Me too."

_ _ _ _

It was starting to get dark when Ben came out of the Orowitz's and spotted Carlos standing across the street beside his horse. The two men stared at each other for quite some time before Ben finally took the initiative and started across the street. "You'll never believe who I found in there," he said, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Who?" Carlos responded, as if he had no idea what Ben was talking about.

"I'm sure you remember Little Joe's friend, Sean," Ben told him nodding with approval. "It would seem that some wise man just happened to find him and deliver him to the perfect home." Ben smiled warmly. "And by doing so, he actually made three people very, very happy."

"Well," Carlos shrugged, "maybe this man is not so wise. Maybe he is only regretful?"

"Every man has regrets, Carlos," Ben said pointedly. "It's a wise man who does something about them."

Carlos smiled. "If you say so, Ben."

"In case you're curious, Sean's welcome to stay there for as long as it takes to track down his relatives."

"Good, I am glad."

Ben looked at the man's horse, noticing that it was packed and ready for travel. "Looks like you're planning on taking a trip."

"Yes."

Ben nodded, pursing his lips. "I see."

"It is time. I have nothing left here," Carlos told him, trying his best to sound resolved.

Ben nodded again, his features becoming contemplative. "I see."

Carlos stood there uncomfortably, not knowing what was expected, or what to say to this man who had taken him in and treated him as family.

"Well," Ben finally said. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed."

Carlos exhaled slowly then looked away. "I am sorry, Ben."

Ben simply nodded again.

"You have given me so much...." Carlos said with intensity. "I never wanted to disappoint you."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"Because...." Carlos frowned, looking down at the ground between them.

"If you're feeling guilty about Little Joe getting sick, you can just stop," Ben said, shaking his head. "He got sick because he ate some raw mushrooms, not because of anything you did."

"Yes, but I didn't tell you about Little Joe...."

Ben held up his hand, halting Carlos in mid sentence. "I understand, you made a promise to Joe - no different than his brother Adam, or Hoss would probably have done in the same situation. The three of them have made promises behind my back more times than I can count and I'm sure there are many I don't even want know about." Ben chuckled. "Does it make me frustrated sometimes? Yes. There have been many times that these...secret oaths of silence could have resulted in disaster. Does it make me angry? Yes, a lot of times it does. But," he took a hold of Carlos' shoulders and looked him in the eye, "even though I might be disappointed at the time, I realize that it's...well, a brother thing. Brothers have a special bond between them that I can't really explain, but I do know that I wouldn't want my sons any other way, Carlos."

Carlos stared at him, seeming confused.

"The only way you'll disappoint me Carlos is if you get on that horse and leave."

"You...you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stay," Ben said conveying as much sincerity as he could. "More than that, I want you to come home."

"But, how could you?"

Ben patted his shoulders, took a few steps back then grinned. "Little Joe's got his boots set by the window just like you told him to do," he said, while un-tethering his horse's reins. "But, I don't think he'd be too disappointed if he found his gift sleeping in the bunk across from him." Ben stepped into a stirrup, swung up into the saddle and turned his horse toward home. "Trust me, I've smelled those boots and they definitely would not make a good pillow," he said with a wink then signaled his horse to a trot and headed down the road, trying very hard not to look back.

Ben's words had been honest, straightforward and from the heart, whether or not Carlos believed and accepted them was entirely up to Carlos. Just like with any of his sons, he could only guide them and pray that they would make wise choices. No matter how much it pained him, in the end, he couldn't decide for them.

Thankfully, the sky had cleared and there was a full moon reflecting on the snow, making the night seem almost as bright as day. It was a glorious night, Ben mused as he looked up at the North Star and reconfirmed his and Little Joe's theory that it did indeed seem to shine more brilliantly than usual this time of year. Moments later he heard another set of hoof beats
coming up alongside him and he laughed out loud, unable to contain the gladness of his heart.

Carlos Rivera de Vega glanced over at the man riding beside him, and noting the unmistakable glint of his mischief in his eye, he nudged his horse to a faster pace in perfect timing with his friend. As the two horses cantered down the road toward the Ponderosa, he made the sign of the cross and thanked the Lord above for wise men.

The end

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