Orenna
By Kathleen T. Berney

The moon rose, clearing the top most branches of the pine trees towering overhead. Large and rounded as the swollen belly of a woman very soon to give birth, she gazed down benevolently upon the earthly landscape of lake, forest, and distant mountain, blanketed under a pristine white quilt of new fallen snow. Her face, formed by the cast shadows of crater and mountain, was discernable in her enlarged, magnified state, as she hovered just above the treetops. Her gentle silvery light danced upon the ripples of the dark, brooding waters of the lake, and bathed Earth’s snow covering with her gentle brilliance.

Hoss Cartwright silently watched as his young sister, Stacy, stepped out from under the canopy of interlacing tree limbs, branches and pine needles into a large meadow, stretching from the forest to the lake beyond. She looked up at the rising moon and lifted her arms.

A song rose from Stacy’s lips, rising upward like gentle tendrils of smoke from a campfire, gently breaking the heavy silence of the wintery night. The words were Paiute, to Hoss’ ears a collection of vowels and consonants strung together in a long line of unintelligible syllables. Even so, he knew from the sweetness of her simple, yet haunting melody, the reverence, awe, and gratitude in her tone, and uplifted arms, that her song was a prayer of thanksgiving.

As he stood at the edge of the forest, tending their horses, Hoss reveled in the abiding peace welling up from deep within, and permeating his entire being. In that peace, he felt as one with the land stretching out before him and all that called her home; with the moon, stars, sky overhead; with the family that nurtured and sustained him; and with The Creator, from whose hands all things came to be. The awe and gratitude stirring and filling Hoss’ heart, prompted his lips and tongue to give voice to another prayer, one his father had taught him and his brothers many years ago:

“Our Father,
which art in Heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on Earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.”

Hoss smiled upon hearing Stacy’s voice, speaking softly, as she joined with him in praying the last line:

“For thine is the kingdom,
and the power,
and the glory,
forever.
Amen.”

For a moment, Hoss and Stacy stood together at the edge between forest and meadow, gazing up toward the heavens in silence, loath to break the mystical spell that had fallen upon them.

“Come on, Li’l Sister,” Hoss, at last, softly prompted. “Time we was moseyin’ on home.” He pointed upward toward the thin, translucent layer of cloud now stretching across the sky as far as the eye could see, veiling the Moon’s face as she began her upward arc toward zenith, blurring her features. A halo of light, dim yet discernable, now encircled the Moon. “We’ll be seein’ more snow before the night’s over.”

Stacy nodded mutely.

Hoss handed her the reins of her horse, Blaze Face, then turned and swung himself up onto the back of his own mount, Chubb. “Stacy?”

“Yeah, Hoss?”

“I know you were singin’ a prayer of thanks just now,” he said while attaching the lead, tethered to their supply horse, to his own saddle. “That song was too pretty to be anything else . . . . ”

“Thank you, Hoss.”

“What, exactly, WERE ya singin’?”

“It was a prayer to Great Spirit, saying thank you for the land, the plants, and the animals placed in our care,” she replied. “I also thanked Great Spirit for the buck we got . . . . ”

“YOU got,” Hoss corrected. “That was mighty fine shootin’, Li’l Sister.”

“Thanks, Big Brother. I also thanked the spirit of the buck for giving HIS life so WE can eat.”

“I heard ya askin’ that buck if it was all right f’r ya t’ shoot him,” Hoss remembered. “Paiute custom?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s a good custom. It reminds ME that I’m part o’ ALL the life on this earth, not somethin’ set above ‘n apart from it, the way too many folks seem t’ think.”

“Silver Moon and Chief Soaring Eagle taught me that. Pa’s taught US that, too.”

“Yep. Pa sure has . . . . ” Hoss’ thoughts drifted back to the many occasions their father fought tooth and nail against greedy business men who felt that the devastation and ruin of vast acres of land and the life upon it a just and fair exchange for the added weight of a few more coins lining their pockets.

“Hoss, when I sang my prayer to Great Spirit? I also asked for blessings on the spirit of this land we call Ponderosa.”

“Oh?” Hoss favored his young sister with a bemused smile. “What does the spirit of the Ponderosa do?”

“She watches over the land, and everyone who lives on it,” Stacy replied. “The animals, the plants, even US.”

“Kinda like a guardian angel?”

“Yeah. Exactly like a guardian angel.”

The peace that had surrounded and filled Hoss began to recede, as ocean waves pull back from the beach, flowing into the water of the next wave approaching. In its place, nebulous feelings of foreboding seemed to take root and sprout.

“Hoss?”

“What is it, Li’l Sister?”

“You sure that buck back there’ll be enough to feed everyone coming to that party for Brunhilda’s pa and son this Saturday night? I saw the guest list. I’ll bet you guys invited at least half the people living in Nevada.”

Hoss laughed out loud. “You exaggerate.”

“Not by much.”

“Well don’t you worry none about the food. That buck’ll be plenty, along with the roast beef and roast pig Hop Sing’s plannin’ t’ fix.”

Stacy’s jaw dropped. “A WHOLE roast pig?”

“Yep!” Hoss nodded.

“Wow!” Astonishment quickly gave way to a happy smile. “Brunhilda Odinsdottir’s really special, isn’t she, Big Brother.”

Hoss returned Stacy’s smile. “Yeah, she is, Li’l Sister. REAL special.”

“You, uummm . . . gonna ask her to marry you?”

“Brunhilda ‘n I ain’t THAT far along,” Hoss said sharply.

“Oh.”

Hoss sighed. “Sorry, Stacy, I didn’t mean t’ snap at ya just now.”

“I’M the one who should apologize,” Stacy said contritely. “I shouldn’t be asking questions that are none of my business.”

“Tell ya what! I’ll accept YOUR apology, if you’ll accept MINE.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Hoss.”

Brother and sister lapsed into a companionable silence, as their horses carefully made their way through newly fallen, virgin snow.



“Mister Cartwright, supper ready!”

Ben abruptly stopped his pacing behind the settee mid-stride and glanced up sharply. “I’m not hungry, Hop Sing.”

“Doc Martin say Mister Cartwright must eat! Mister Cartwright big man! Doctor say big man must eat, get back strength.”

Ben’s sharp gaze deepened into a dark, angry scowl. “Hop Sing, I SAID I wasn’t hungry,” he growled.

Hop Sing’s defiant glare matched Ben’s measure for measure in ferocity. “Doctor say Mister Cartwright must eat, Hop Sing make sure Mister Cartwright eat! Supper ready!”

A short, curt, exasperated sigh exploded past Ben’s lips. “Oh, alright! I’m coming!”

Hop Sing abruptly turned heel and ambled back toward the dining room, muttering a string of terse, clipped Chinese syllables under his breath.

The front door opened, drawing Ben’s undivided, hopeful attention. “Oh. It’s you!”

“Thanks a lot, Pa,” Joe quipped as he stepped inside. “If I go out and come back in again, do I rate a more enthusiastic greeting?”

“I can do without your sarcasm, Joseph Francis!” Ben snapped, shivering against the cold air wafting through the open door. He quickly unbelted his robe and drew it around himself closer. “And would you please shut that door, for heaven’s sake? It’s cold enough in here already without you trying to heat up the whole great outdoors.”

Joe tried his best not to smile. “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Pa,” he said, as he gently closed the door, “and maybe . . . . just maybe, if you curled up in that chair over there next to the roaring fire Hop Sing’s got going in the fireplace, instead of pacing a trench in the floor behind the settee, you’d be warm as toast.”

“Alright,” Ben sighed. “I’m . . . a little worried about Hoss and Stacy.”

Joe removed his gun belt and placed it on the credenza next to the door. “Pa, they’re fine.”

“They said they’d be home this afternoon.”

“They said MAYBE they’d be home this afternoon,” Joe corrected. He hung his hat on the peg beside the front door, then started to unbutton his coat.

Ben noticed the generous dusting of white on his youngest son’s shoulders for the first time. “Is it snowing?”

“Yeah, it just started a few minutes ago.” Joe divested himself of scarf and gloves.

“You didn’t happen to see your brother and sister along the road coming in . . . did you?” Ben asked anxiously.

“No,” Joe said quietly. “Pa, Hoss and Stacy both know those forests and mountains like the backs of their hands. They also know bad weather signs. They’ll be alright.”

“Hop Sing say supper ready five . . . ten minutes ago!” The Cartwright family’s chief cook and bottle washer stormed back into the living room, his face a veritable angry thundercloud. “Now supper cold! Go out in garden!”

“Sorry, Hop Sing, I, uhhh . . . guess my coming in distracted Pa from the supper table,” Joe apologized.

“ ‘Bout time Little Joe get home!” Hop Sing scolded. “Hop Sing coop up all day with stubborn, cantankerous ****!” The word was Chinese. He noted with perverse satisfaction that Number Three Cartwright Son had turned nearly white as a sheet with its utterance. “Hop Sing fix supper, now Hop Sing throw supper in garden!” he continued his rant. “Hop Sing quit! Go live with number nine cousin in San Francisco!”

Joe sighed and rolled his eyes, not envying Hop Sing one bit for having spent the better part of the day enduring Ben’s company alone. “Hop Sing, you’ll do nothing of the sort! Tell you what? Why don’t you go in, heat up our supper and bring it to Pa and me over by the fireplace, where it’s warmer?”

Hop Sing angrily threw up his hands, then returned to the kitchen, again muttering a long string of clipped Chinese syllables.

“I’d sure love to know what he’s saying,” Ben angrily groused under his breath.

“No you don’t, Pa . . . trust me,” Joe said as he placed his hands on his father’s shoulders and steered him toward the warmth of the fireplace.



What began as an occasional fine dusting of snow filtering down through the interlacing tree branches had intensified into a steady fall of tiny flakes, obscuring visibility to vague shadows of gray fading to black. Hoss and Stacy rode close, side-by-side, carefully guiding their horses, Chubb and Blaze Face, through the ever-deepening snow.

“Hoss?”

“Yeah, Li’l Sister?”

“How far away are we?”

“If the weather’d held, I’d say about an hour, maybe less,” Hoss said somberly. “But the way it’s comin’ down now . . . we may need t’ seek shelter ‘fore long, if this keeps up.”

“Oh no! Hoss, we’ve gotta make it home!”

“We will, Stacy.”

“Not eventually . . . TONIGHT! We promised Pa, remember?”

“I know . . . . ”

“He’s probably wearing a trench in the floor behind the settee right now,” Stacy murmured dolefully.

“No probably about THAT!” Hoss had to agree. Though he felt deep regret at the prospect of prolonging their father’s anxiety, the two he felt the sorriest for were Joe and Hop Sing. Pa in his “brooding mother hen aspect”— a phrase coined by Adam many years ago— made co-existence difficult at best. Couple that with the cantankerous, stubborn mule he inevitably turned into in the early recovery stages of illness . . . Hoss shuddered.

“Hoss?”

“What is it, Stacy?”

“This may sound kinda crazy, but I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched.”

“If YOU’RE goin’ crazy, Li’l Sister, then I reckon I am, too,” Hoss said grimly. “I’ve been feelin’ that since the snow really picked up hard. Chubb, Blaze Face, ‘n Billy Boy have been actin’ kinda spooky, too. Y’ got your rifle loaded?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep alert. Could be the scent from that deer carcass we got strapped t’ Billy Boy’s been picked up by a hungry cougar or lone wolf.”

“I’ll keep alert, Hoss, but I’m NOT feeling somebody out to eat us,” Stacy said. “I feel like were being watched by . . . well, by someone who loves us very much.”



The sound of someone pounding on the front door roused Ben from the light slumber into which he had been lured by the blazing warmth and mesmerizing dance of leaping flame in the massive gray stone fireplace before him. He threw aside the afghan placed over his lap by a thoughtful youngest son, and started to rise.

“Stay still, Pa,” Joe said. “I’ll get it.”

“Why in the world would Hoss and Stacy be knocking on the door?” Ben wondered aloud, punctuating his query with a big yawn.

“They wouldn’t!” Joe wisely refrained from voicing that sentiment aloud. He quickly crossed the distance between the blue chair he had occupied scant seconds before, and the front door. “Who is it?” he asked tersely, while deftly removing his gun from its holster.

“Candy.”

Joe immediately replaced his gun and opened the door.

“Sorry to be coming around so late, Joe,” Candy immediately apologized. “Just wanted to let you know we’re back from mending those fences along the north pasture.”

“You just getting back?” Joe asked, noting with dismay that the snow fell thicker and heavier, with no let up in sight.

“Yeah.”

Joe cast a quick, furtive glance over his shoulder at his father, still seated on the settee in front of the fire, still blazing in the fireplace. “You didn’t happen to see any sign of Hoss and Stacy out there . . . did you?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice down.

“They’re not back yet?”

“No.”

“I didn’t see hide nor hair of ‘em, I’m afraid,” Candy said, an anxious frown knotting his brow. “I thought they were supposed to be back earlier on.”

“They were. Pa’s been worried sick all night, and I’m getting a mite concerned myself.”

“Joe, your brother and sister are sensible level headed people. I’m sure they’ve taken shelter somewhere along the way.”

“You’re right, Candy. Hopefully this storm’ll clear out by morning.”

“Even if it doesn’t, they took along enough food to last ‘em a couple of days. They’ll be alright.”

Joe nodded. “I know. I just hope I can convince Pa.”

“I don’t envy you THAT task, Joe,” Candy said somberly. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night.” Joe closed the door, then took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself to face his father, staring over at him anxiously from his place on the settee.

“Well?” Ben demanded, as Joe turned to face him.

“That was Candy. He wanted to let me know that the men just returned from fence mending duty along that north pasture.”

“What about Hoss and Stacy?”

Joe swallowed. “They . . . didn’t see ‘em, Pa.”

“Nothing?”

“No.”

Ben bolted right out of his seat. “I’m getting dressed.”

“What for?” Joe demanded. “It’s time the two of us turned in.”

“I’m going to go out and look for your brother and sister.”

“Over my dead body!” Joe growled.

“You’d best not stand in my way, Boy . . . . ”

“Pa, will you for heaven’s sake, listen to reason? That snow’s coming down so hard, you can’t see your hand in front of your face,” Joe said tersely. “You go out there now, you’ll end up with pneumonia.”

“Joseph . . . . ”

“No! The only place YOU’RE going within the next few minutes is upstairs to bed! And you’re gonna stay there until morning, if I have to hogtie ya!”

“Joseph Francis Cartwright, I’ll thank to keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re speaking to me.”

“I’ll address you with civil tongue when you start using your head,” Joe rounded on his father furiously. “If you sat down and thought about things for a minute, you’d realize that Hoss and Stacy had the good sense to seek shelter hours ago.”

“Hoss told me he and Stacy intended to head west! Toward Tahoe!”

“He told ME the same thing. So what?”

“WHERE, Joseph, as in WHERE are they going to find shelter? We have no line shacks out that way.”

“We have WOODS, Pa. That means trees! If need be they could tie together a bunch of tree branches and make a lean to for shelter.”

“What about food?”

“You know Hoss as well as I do. When it comes to food he over packs every bit as much as a young lady off on an over night trip somewhere. He and Stacy probably have enough to last ‘em clear into next week. They’ll be ALRIGHT, Pa, and they’ll be home, too . . . safe ‘n sound, once this snow storm clears out.”

Ben’s anger quickly evaporated in the harsh light of reason. Joe was absolutely right on all counts. “I’m sorry, Son,” he murmured contritely.

“I’m sorry, too, Pa,” Joe said, his father’s apology taking much of the angry wind from his own sails.
“You were also right when you said it’s past time we turned in,” Ben added, with a wan smile. “I’m going up. You coming?”

“In a little while,” Joe replied. “I’m going to wait ‘til the fire dies down a bit.”

“If Hoss and Stacy happen to arrive home while you’re still up . . . ”

“I’ll wake you if they do, Pa. That’s a promise.”

“You’d better. Good night, Joe.”

“Good night, Pa.”



Billy Boy spooked first. The big gelding whinnied, then reared, snapping the line tethering him to Hoss’ saddle. Once free, he bolted right through the middle between Hoss and Stacy, moving at a full, panicked gallop. The sharp tugging of Billy Boy’s lead, pulling against Hoss’ saddle set Chubb off in nearly the same instant. Less than a second later, Blaze Face began to rear and bolt.

“Whoa, Blaze Face, whoa!” Stacy yelled. Squeezing tight with her thighs and grasping the reins for dear life, Stacy desperately labored to halt Blaze Face’s blind, reckless flight through the forest. His terror finally abated, after a seeming eternity, leaving both horse and rider exhausted, gasping for breath.

As her breathing gradually resumed its normal pattern, Stacy suddenly realized she was alone. “Hoss?”

No answer.

“HOSS!”

Silence.

“HOSS!”

Still no answer.

With heart in mouth, Stacy quickly dismounted, half climbing-half falling out of the saddle. She turned, searching for the tracks she and Blaze Face almost certainly left in their frantic wake. There was nothing. The falling snow had filled everything in that quick.

“HOSS!” she shouted again, this time at the top of her lungs.

“Child?”

Stacy whirled in her tracks and found herself staring into the craggy, careworn face of an old woman, with light, smoky gray hair, as long as her own, pulled back and cinched at the nape of her neck with a leather tie. She wore no hat or scarf. Her only wrap was a cape, which she kept drawn around her thin, frail body.

“Child, can you spare me a morsel of food?”

“I don’t have much, Ma’am, not since Billy Boy, our supply horse bolted,” Stacy replied. “But you’re welcome to what ever I have.”

“Come, Child. You’re shivering. My home is there . . . . ” the old woman pointed, “just through those trees.”

“I have to find my brother,” Stacy said. “We were separated when something, probably a hungry wild animal panicked our horses.”

“Your brother . . . is he a big fella, with one o’ them ten gallon hats?”

“Yes!”

“I found him . . . back there a piece.” Again, the old woman pointed. “He’s fine, Child. He’s in my house right now waiting.”

“Is he alright?” Stacy queried anxiously, as she fell in step along side the old woman.

“He sprained his ankle when he fell off his horse. Otherwise, he’s fine.” The old woman smiled. “ ‘Cept for bein’ worried sick about YOU.”

Stacy silently followed the old woman as she made her way through the trees, leading Blaze Face behind her. She was astonished to find that the group of trees had somehow formed a copse in the shape of a near perfect circle. At the outer edge, on the other side, she spotted the rounded form of a house made of earth and rock, not unlike the Navajo hogan.

“You g’won inside, Child,” the old woman said, as they stepped to the edge of the tree circle. “I have a place around back to stable your horse.”

“Ma’am, I can stable Blaze Face, if you’d show me where, exactly.”

“You’re pert near soaked through to the skin, Child. Y’ need t’ get yourself in out of this wet ‘n cold, ‘fore y’ find yourself down sick.”

“B-but . . . . ”

“I can manage, Child. I’m a whole lot stronger ‘n I look. Now git on inside with ya.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am,” Stacy said. “You’ll find what food I have in my saddle bags.”

The old woman nodded mutely, then led Blaze Face around to the backside of the earthen bungalow.

Stacy hurried on inside the old woman’s house, and found Hoss waiting, as she had promised. He sat on the floor on a fur rug, his back propped against the far wall, his ankle bandaged. With a cry, borne of vast, profound relief, Stacy ran across the large room and dropped down on the floor beside him. “Hoss! Thank God!” she half sobbed as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Amen to that, Li’l Sister,” Hoss murmured as he gathered his young sister in his arms and held her close for a moment. “You alright?”

“I am NOW. How ‘bout YOU, Big Brother? The old woman said you had a sprained ankle.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be limpin’ around for the next few days,” Hoss said ruefully. “It all happened so fast. I didn’t even have time to realize Billy Boy’d panicked n’ ran, when all of a sudden, Chubb got spooked. One minute I was on HIS back, the next I’m on the ground flat on MINE. How’d you do with Blaze Face?”

“I thought he was NEVER gonna stop running! I stayed with him, though. How I don’t know . . . . ”

Hoss grinned. “That saddle o’ yours must be made o’ some kinda glue, instead o’ leather. I’m sure glad you managed t’ stay with Blaze Face, Li’l Sister, ‘cause it’s a long way from here back to the house on foot.”

The door opened, and the old woman entered, carrying Stacy’s saddlebags and canteen. “I found three cans o’ beans and a can o’ corn,” she announced as she shook off the snow that had piled on her shoulders and in her hair. She looked over, making eye contact with Stacy. “This’ll make a real fine dinner for the three o’ us. Would you mind giving me a hand, Child?”

Stacy gave Hoss one last reassuring squeeze, then leapt to her feet. “My name’s Stacy,” she said by way of introduction, “and I’ll do what I can to help, but I have to warn you. I’m not much of a cook.”

“I’ll do the cookin’, Stacy. I just need YOU to fetch ‘n carry . . . startin’ with a can opener. You’ll find it in m’ tool box over yonder, by the door.” She pointed.

Stacy located the toolbox and threw open the lid. “Here it is!” she announced a moment later.

“Thank you, Stacy. I go by a lotta names, but you c’n call me Orenna.” She took the can opener from Stacy and set to work opening the cans. “There’s a bottle o’ wine right over here, lyin’ just outta m’ reach. If you c’n hand that up to me . . . . ”

“Here you are, Miss Orenna.”

“Thank you. Now hangin’ up above me’s a mess o’ dried herbs. I’ll tell y’ which ones I need . . . . ”



“Miss Orenna, that was one real fine meal,” Hoss complimented the chef with a weary smile, after scooping up the very last morsel from his dish. “Never dreamed canned beans ‘n corn could taste so good.”

“What Big Brother here said, goes for me, too,” Stacy said.

“Miss Orenna?”

“Yes, Hoss?”

“Lookin’ around, I don’t see much here in t’ way o’ food,” Hoss said. “If y’d like, after this storm’s over, we can fetch y’ back some supplies from OUR larder.”

“No need, Hoss, I can well manage, but thank you very much for your generous offer.” Orenna looked over at Hoss and smiled. “This storm’ll be well over by tomorrow mornin’. The Spirits o’ the Sky ‘n Wind told me so. By the time y’ wake up, the sun’ll be shinin’ with nary a cloud in the sky. I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?”

“Quite sure,” Orenna said firmly. “Now why don’t I gather up these dishes . . . . ”

“YOU stay still, Miss Orenna,” Stacy said as she deftly rose to her feet. “I’LL take care of the dishes.”

“You needn’t do that, Stacy. You’re a guest in my home, after all . . . . ”

“ . . . and a GOOD guest makes him or herself useful,” Stacy said firmly.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Miss Orenna,” Hoss advised with a smile. “That li’l sister o’ mine can be more stubborn than an ornery ol’ mule, when she takes a notion.”

“Thanks a lot, Big Brother,” Stacy retorted good naturedly, as she finished gathering together all of the dishes and eating implements.

“Miss Orenna, how long you been livin’ round these parts?” Hoss asked, as Stacy set to work cleaning the dishes.

“I been around for a very, very, very long time, Hoss. Long before your pa, even.”

Hoss looked over at their hostess, surprised. “You know our pa?”

“We’ve met on a number of occasions, one way or t’ other. He’s a good man. Been real good to the land, ‘n all us what calls her home. I knew he was that kind when he first came with you ‘n Adam.”

“Y’ mean . . . you ‘n I’ve met before?”

“You was just a wee tyke, then, but I used t’ come visit, ‘n we’d take walks, you ‘n me.”

Her words stirred up vague shadows from the deepest depths of his memory, as elusive and intangible as the smoke rising from the fire in the center of the house up to the hole in the roof directly above. Images formed, for the briefest of seconds, before returning to their true forms of smoke and mist. Hoss tried desperately to hold on to the images as they formed, only to discover that the harder he tried, the quicker they slipped right through his fingers.

Orenna looked over at Hoss with a kind, indulgent smile. “As I said, you was a wee tyke, Hoss. You’ll remember when the time’s right.”

“I just hope PA’S gonna be alright,” Stacy said quietly, as she finished cleaning the dishes. She stacked them, clean and dry next to the fireplace, before rejoining Orenna and Hoss.

“I told Pa we might be back this afternoon,” Hoss added.

“He’s just getting over a bad bout of cold,” Stacy continued. “Being worried about the two of US can’t be helping him any.”

“ . . . an’ now, we don’t even have that buck t’ show f’r it,” Hoss sighed. “The critter that spooked our horses probably needed t’ eat that deer meat more ‘n WE did, though I feel real bad about loosin’ Billy Boy.”

“Our stock horse, Miss Orenna,” Stacy added.

“Horses generally have a knack for findin’ their way home,” Orenna said quietly. “Don’t be surprised if y’ find Billy Boy there, waiting. And, Stacy?”

“Yes, Miss Orenna?”

“Don’t YOU worry none ‘bout your pa. He probably WAS a trifle anxious at first, but I’m sure along the way, he’s figured out that you two’d take shelter somewhere. When he looks out his window ‘n sees them blue skies come mornin’ he’s gonna know the pair o’ you’ll be home soon after, safe ‘n sound.”

“Thank you, Miss Orenna,” Stacy said gratefully, knowing, somehow that the old woman spoke true.

“I’m sorry you had t’ loose out on your first kill like y’ did.”

“H-how’d you know . . . .?”

Orenna smiled. “You’re young yet. I kinda figured this might be your first huntin’ trip.”

“Well . . . like Hoss said, the critter that got it probably needed it more ‘n WE did,” she said philosophically, “and besides, I can still TELL Pa and Joe all about it. Hoss can vouch for me.”

“Well, it’s gettin’ on late an’ the pair o’ YOU still got a long trip ahead o’ ya in t’ mornin’,” Orenna said. “If ‘n I’m not here when y’ git up? I’ll leave y’ a spot o’ breakfast next t’ the fireplace. Stacy, you’ll find Blaze Face in t’ stable out back saddled ‘n ready t’ go.”

“Thank you, Miss Orenna,” Stacy said.

“Thank you f’r everything, Ma’am,” Hoss added gratefully. “You probably ended up savin’ our lives.”



Joe Cartwright woke up the following morning as the silver gray light of dawn filtered in through the windows, driving the dimming shadows of night back into their corners. He winced against the stiffness in his back and neck, as he struggled to rise from prone to sitting. He realized, belatedly, that he had fallen asleep on the settee downstairs.

The sound of horses outside immediately captured his attention. Joe leapt to his feet, bolted across the room and threw open the front door. For the space of a few seconds, each one a dreadful eternity, he stood rooted to the sport staring at Billy Boy and Chubb. There was no sign at all of Blaze Face, or of the horses’ human companions.

“H-Hoss? Stacy?”

There was no answer.

“Oh d-dear God,” Joe murmured softly, upon realizing his brother and sister were not there. With heart thudding wildly against his chest, he darted out of the house and across the yard to take a closer look at the two horses.

Both Billy Boy and Chubb had been running through the storm, probably through the better part of the night, judging from the way their coats were caked with snow and ice. It was a miracle the horses made it home at all. By all rights, they should be lying dead somewhere, from exhaustion and the cold. Billy Boy’s back legs and rear end were smeared with blood. Joe grabbed hold of Billy Boy’s halter and held on for dear life as the muscle and bone in his legs turned to rubber. He could feel the acrid, telltale sting of tears burning in his eyes.

“No!” Joe spat angrily, forcing back the torrent of fear and grief that threatened to inundate him. “Later.”

“Joe?”

He glanced up sharply, and found himself staring into the anxious faces of Candy and Hank.

“We heard the horses,” Candy said. “We thought maybe . . . . ”

Joe felt his heart plummeting to his feet at Candy’s words. “No,” he curtly shook his head. “I . . . I had hoped you were going to tell me Hoss ‘n Stacy were in the barn.”

“They’re not. I haven’t seen hide nor hair o’ Blaze Face, either,” Hank said somberly.

“Hank . . . Candy, I’d like you both to saddle your horses,” Joe said, blinking again against the tears stinging his eyes. He fell silent for a moment, long enough to take several quick, shallow breaths, and swallow. “Saddle Cochise, too, if you would.”

“JOSEPH?”

Joe slowly, reluctantly turned and glanced up. He saw his father, as he knew he would, leaning out of his open bedroom window, clutching the edges of his dark maroon robe close around himself against the frigid cold without. “I’ll be r-right there, Pa . . . . ”

“We’ll be out here, waiting,” Candy promised. “You want us to roust up any of the other men?”

Joe nodded. “Get Mitch to stable Chubb and Billy Boy,” he ordered. “Wake Jacob, Jack, maybe a couple of the others. Tell ‘em to dress, get their horses saddled. I want to move out as soon as possible.”

Candy and Hank nodded. The former took charge of Chubb and Billy Boy while the latter ran toward the bunkhouse.

Joe took a moment to steel himself for the ordeal that lay just ahead, before turning heel and walking resolutely toward the house. Inside, he found his father waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He took a long, slow, very deep breath. “Pa, Chubb and Billy Boy turned up in the yard just now.” He was amazed at how calm his voice sounded in his own ears. “Alone.”

“Blaze Face?”

“No sign. Candy, Hank, and I are going out with some of the men to search.”

“Hoss and Stacy are alright, Joe,” Ben said quietly, with deep conviction.

Joe, who had mentally and physically braced himself to face the ferocious temperament of a mother tiger, crouched, ready to spring in defense of her helpless cubs, could only stare over at his father. Ben’s surprising calm serenity had rendered Joe wholly and utterly speechless.

“Son, I promise you . . . your brother and sister are alright. G’won now, and bring them home. You’ll find them on the road that runs between here and Tahoe.”

“O-Ok, Pa.”

Joe left the house with a heavy heart, half fearing that his father had, at some time during the night, slipped over the edge of sanity. How else could he be so sure Hoss and Stacy were alright in the face of two lone horses? At the same time he felt a keen measure of guilty relief. If Pa wanted to believe Hoss and Stacy were fine, so be it. For now, anyway! That would at least guarantee that he would stay put long enough for Joe to do what he had to do. Outside, Candy, Hank, Jacob, and four other men waited with their horses. Cochise was also saddled and ready to ride, as Candy and Hank had promised.

The men rode in grim silence, back tracking the prints left by Chubb and Billy Boy. With each step, a hand of stone closed tighter and tighter around Joe’s heart, bringing an iciness within far colder than the freezing cold and biting winds with out. He had a vague awareness of Candy riding close along side, to his right, casting the occasional anxious furtive glance, without intrusion. Hank followed on his left, a few yards behind. Somewhere beyond the growing stone and ice, in that part of his heart the would always, no matter what, remain flesh and blood, Joe felt a measure of gratitude for Candy’s and Hank’s presence, and their strength.

“Hey, Joe?”

Candy’s voice cut through his grim thoughts, through all the ice and stone, like a hot knife through butter. “Wh-what is it?” Joe stammered.

“Look.” Candy pointed.

Joe turned and saw a two people, riding one horse. The sun’s glare, reflecting off the white snow had reduced them to mere shadows. Still, he felt an odd quickening inside. Dared he actually hope?

“HELLO!” Candy shouted as he peered ahead at the two riders and horse.

“CANDY?” That was Stacy. “HEY, GRANDPA! THAT YOU?”

Joe never heard her greeting. He was busy egging Cochise on, to a full gallop. Candy, grinning from ear to ear, hung back, as did the more taciturn Hank. The four men with them followed suit.



“Th-thank God!” Joe murmured softly, those simple words a genuine, heartfelt prayer of deepest gratitude, as he gently squeezed Stacy’s hand and touched Hoss’ shoulder.

“You ok, Joe?” Stacy queried anxiously, as she peered into his weary, careworn face. She also noted his eyes, sparkling with more brightness than usual, blinking excessively.

“I will be.” Joe managed a half decent smile for the benefit of his older and younger siblings. “I . . . I’m afraid I feared the worst, when . . . . ” He broke off suddenly, unable to speak.

“When Chubb ‘n Billy Boy showed up without us?” Hoss asked.

Joe glanced over at his big brother sharply. “Yes. H-how’d you know?”

“Miss Orenna told us, Li’l Brother.”

Joe looked over at Hoss, his brow knotting into a bewildered frown. “Who’s Miss Orenna?”

“The old woman who lives in the woods,” Stacy said. “She gave us shelter last night.”

“There’s no one living in those woods, Stace,” Joe said, looking from his brother to his sister in complete bewilderment.

“Sure there is. I’ll take you back and show you, if you’d like.”

“Another time, Kid,” Joe said firmly. “Right now, we’ve gotta get home. Pa’s waiting. He seemed in a patient enough mood when I left, but ten’ll getcha one it won’t last long. Hoss, why don’t we shift you over to Cooch here . . . and give Blaze Face a respite?”

“Good idea, Li’l Brother,” Hoss agreed, “seein’ as how we been travelin’ since sun up.”

“You’ve gotta be careful,” Stacy warned. “Hoss sprained his ankle when our horses panicked . . . and Chubb dumped him.”

With able assistance from Joe, Stacy, and Candy, Hoss managed to move from Blaze Face’s back to Cochise. The return home took far less time than the ride out, or so it seemed to Joe. Traveling with a lighter heart, one made entirely of flesh and blood, certainly lightened the load.

“Stacy, you and Hoss g’won in the house,” Joe said, as they rounded the barn and rode into the yard between the barn door and the house. “We’ll stable Blaze Face.”

The instant Hoss and Stacy stepped up onto the front porch, the front door opened. Ben stood just inside waiting. He deftly helped his returning son and daughter remove coats, hats, scarves, and gloves, then with Stacy’s assistance, settled Hoss on the settee with his injured ankle propped up on the coffee table, resting comfortably on the largest, softest cushion in the house. Ben sat down on the settee next to Hoss, and invited Stacy to sit down on the empty place on his other side.

Hop Sing, grinning from ear to ear entered, bearing a tray with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. “Mister Hoss . . . Miss Stacy, Hop Sing glad you back.” He placed the tray down on the coffee table and parceled out the large mugs, generously filled, first to Stacy, then Hoss. “Drink up, Miss Stacy . . . Mister Hoss! Best drink when hot!”

“No argument from ME,” Stacy declared, as she contentedly sipped from the mug in hand.

Hop Sing turned, favoring Ben with a dark, withering glare in Ben’s general direction. “You, too, Mister Cartwright. Drink up while hot!”

Ben flinched under Hop Sing’s intense scrutiny. “Hop Sing, I . . . I must’ve apologized a thousand times since last night.”

“Mister Cartwright . . . Mister Hoss, Little Joe, and Miss Stacy all very bad when sick, but YOU worse! MUCH worse! Million times worse!” Hop Sing turned heel and ambled back out toward the kitchen, trailing a long string of Chinese invectives behind him.

“What was THAT all about?” Stacy wondered aloud, her eyes momentarily glued to Hop Sing’s retreating back.

“I don’t think I wanna know,” Hoss said firmly.

“You don’t,” Ben said ruefully. He slipped one arm around Stacy’s shoulders, and the other around Hoss’ and hugged them close for a moment. “I want to hear all about your hunting trip.”

“I wish you could’ve seen the buck we shot, Pa . . . . ”

“YOU shot, Li’l Sister,” Hoss corrected her with a proud smile. “He was a big ‘un.”

“Eight points, Pa! One of the points was chipped, though. Unfortunately, we lost ‘im when our horses spooked.”

“I figure a cougar got ‘im. The buck that is! Stacy ‘n I found cougar tracks this mornin’, right near where we think the horses spooked.”

“It’s a wonder that cougar didn’t get Billy Boy, too.”

“Eight points, spooked horses, cougar tracks, Billy Boy?” Ben echoed, looking anxiously from one to the other. “Sounds like you two had quite a night. I think maybe you should start again . . . from the beginning.”

Hoss and Stacy proceeded to recount the details of their hunting venture, coherently, and in chronological order, up to the place where their horses spooked.

“Hoss and I ended up spending the night with a friend of yours, Pa.”

Ben frowned. “Really? Who?”

“Miss Orenna.”

“Stacy, I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell,” Ben said, shaking his head. “What was her last name?”

“She didn’t tell us.”

“Miss Orenna said she’d been livin’ in those woods since long before you, me, ‘n Adam came, Pa,” Hoss said. “The way she talked about ya, well, she sounded like she knew ya real well.”

Ben silently wracked his brains, searching his long memory for anyone bearing even the slightest resemblance to Miss Orenna. He turned up nothing. “Maybe if you tell me what she looks like?”

“She’s an old woman now, Pa,” Hoss replied. “A real old woman! But from the look of her, she couldn’t o’ been all that young when we first came here, t’ Nevada.”

Ben sighed, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but for the life of me, I just can’t seem to recall ANYONE named Orenna. Where did you say she lives?”

“In the woods headin’ east away from Tahoe,” Hoss replied. “Got herself a real cozy house made o’ earth, not too far from where our horses spooked.”

“Hoss, are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure, Pa.”

“So am I!” Stacy declared with an emphatic nod of her head.

“Hoss . . . Stacy . . . there’s no one living in those woods,” Ben protested, looking from one to the other skeptically, as if they had both taken not only leave of their senses, but of their very sanity. “There CAN’T be!”

“That’s what I tried to tell ‘em.” It was Joe, he stood over beside the front door, removing his hat and coat.

“Miss Orenna WAS there, Grandpa, and so was her house,” Stacy said. “If SHE hadn’t been . . . I’m not so sure Hoss and I would be HERE, not the way that snow was coming down . . . and a cougar, scaring away our supply horse.”

“This makes no sense,” Ben mused aloud, shaking his head again in complete and utter bewilderment. “Surely . . . I’d know about someone living in the woods, who had been there before we came.”

“Pa, there’s somethin’ else about Miss Orenna that don’t quite make sense,” Hoss said. “When we got t’ talkin’ after dinner, Miss Orenna said she used t’ come ‘n visit, back when I was real li’l,” Hoss said. “She told me the two o’ us took walks together. When she said that . . . . ” his brow knotted into a puzzled frown, “she stirred up somethin’ familiar inside.”

A faraway look stole over Ben’s dark brown eyes, prompting a wistful, nostalgic smile. “You know, Son . . . the way you and Stacy have been talking about Miss Orenna kind of reminds me of an imaginary friend you used to have, back when the three of us, Adam, you, and I, came. She was an old woman, too, who came, sang to you, took you for walks. But, HER name was Renn.”

“Wren?” Stacy asked. “Like the bird?”

“No, Li’l Sister, NOT like the bird,” Hoss replied. “It was RENN . . . . ” Suddenly his eyes went round, bulging right out of their sockets. His jaw dropped. “I-I just thought o something! Renn could be short f’r ORENNA!”

“You’re right, Big Brother! It could!” Stacy agreed.

Ben digested everything his son and daughter had told him about the old woman living in the woods in thoughtful silence. At length, he glanced over at his youngest son, seated on the coffee table near Stacy. “Joe?”

“Yeah, Pa?”

“That drawing I have framed on my dresser. Would you go get it, please?”

“Sure thing, Pa. I’ll be right back.”

“Stacy, I don’t think I’ve ever told YOU this, but when we . . . Hoss, Adam, and I . . . first arrived in Nevada, my friend, Chief Red Hawk, came with his medicine woman, Owl Woman,” Ben said. “He wanted her to do a medicine journey, to contact the guardian spirit of this land, the Ponderosa.”

An amused smile tugged at the corner of Ben’s mouth. “I was getting ready to stake out a claim to the first parcel of land for what’s become the Ponderosa. The paperwork had been drawn up, and I had paid the necessary fees. I think maybe Chief Red Hawk wanted to make sure the guardian spirit approved of us before I put my name to the dotted line.”

“Was Owl Woman able to contact the Ponderosa’s spirit guardian?” Stacy asked.

“She claimed that she did,” Ben replied.

“The Ponderosa’s guardian spirit must have approved of you.”

Ben smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes. She did. Owl Woman also told me that the Ponderosa’s spirit guardian had called out to me over ‘great distance and throughout many years.’ Those were her exact words. Owl Woman was also a very fine artist as well as medicine woman. She drew a picture of the Ponderosa guardian.”

“I’ve got it, Pa,” Joe announced from the top landing, before bounding back down the stairs, two and three at a time. He crossed the distance separating his family from the bottom of the stairs and placed the small-framed charcoal drawing into his father’s outstretched hands.

Stacy and Hoss edged closer for a better look. It was the portrait of a very old woman, with long, silver gray hair.

“Hoss! That’s her!” Stacy gasped, her eyes round as saucers. “That’s Miss Orenna!”

“That sure as shootin’ is!” Hoss agreed. “An’, Pa?”

“Yes, Hoss?”

“That’s also Renn. It’s all comin’ back t’ me now.”

“Owl Woman also told me that, according to the beliefs of her people, the spirits who guard the land also guard those who love the land,” Ben said thoughtfully.

“Then this Miss Orenna who supposedly looked after the two of you must be the spirit who guards the Ponderosa . . . and looks after US, too,” Joe said. “Given all the facts, that’s the ONLY explanation that makes any kind of sense to me.”

“This is one time, Li’l Brother, I ain’t gonna argue with ya,” Hoss declared. “Miss Orenna told us Billy Boy’d make home safe ‘n sound, an’ she also told us the weather’d be clear by mornin’.”

“She also promised Hoss and me that YOU wouldn’t worry too much about us, Pa,” Stacy said quietly.

“I DID have a few anxious moments . . . . ”

“A FEW, Pa?” Joe quipped without missing a beat.

“Joe WAS able to convince me that the two of you were going to be alright,” Ben continued, favoring his youngest son with a ‘don’t-you-dare-say-ONE-word’ warning glare. Joe returned the glare with a smug ‘cat-that-ate-the-canary’ smile. “But when I woke up this morning, saw the blue sky, I somehow knew the two of you were alright.”

“Just like Miss Orenna said, Pa.”

Hop Sing returned to the great room a few moments later to collect the empty hot chocolate mugs. “Miss Stacy, Hop Sing almost forget. Old woman come to Hop Sing’s kitchen, leave gift.”

“Really?” She frowned. “A gift? That’s strange . . . my birthday’s passed and it’s not Christmas yet.”

“Strange old woman,” Hop Sing murmured, as he placed the mugs back on the tray. “Must cross garden to reach kitchen door. Snow cover garden. Old woman make no foot prints.”

Stacy gasped. She looked up at Hop Sing through eyes round with astonishment. “Did y-you say . . . that the old woman left . . . n-no foot prints?”

“No foot prints!” Hop Sing readily affirmed. “Old woman make no foot prints!”

Stacy and Hoss exchanged glances through eyes round with astonishment. A moment later, the former leapt to her feet. “Hop Sing? Where’s the gift the old woman left?”

“Hop Sing leave gift for Miss Stacy on table in dining room.”

Stacy slipped past Hop Sing and ran headlong toward the dining room. She returned a few moments later, smiling broadly, carrying a deer antler in each hand. “Hop Sing, the old woman who came to your door? She must have been Miss Orenna. These are the antlers from the buck I shot.”

“How can you be so sure they’re the antlers from the buck you shot, Little Sister?” Joe demanded. “Deer antlers are . . . well, deer antlers.”

Stacy handed the right antler over to the youngest of her three older brothers for closer inspection. “See there, where the point’s chipped?” She pointed. “The buck I shot had that exact same chip.”

“I can vouch f’r that, Joe,” Hoss said. “Stacy?”

“Yeah, Hoss?”

“Why don’tcha g’won, take the antlers up t’ your room, ‘n put ‘em some place safe f’r now? After this ankle mends, I’ll make a mount to display ‘em proper.”

“That would be great, Hoss. Thanks!”

“That’s an impressive keepsake from your first hunting trip, Stace,” Joe said smiling. “Where do figure on hanging ‘em?”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Stacy said with a shrug. “I guess I’ll hang them up in my room.”

“Stacy?”

“Yeah, Pa?”

“I was just thinking of finding a place for them down here, and maybe put this picture with them,” Ben said, casting a glance down at the portrait cradled in his hands, if it’s alright with YOU, of course . . . . ”

“Sure, it’s ok with ME, Pa,” Stacy said. “Just out of curiosity, why do you want to keep my antlers and your picture down here? Any particular reason?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, there IS a particular reason, Young Woman. I figured that displaying the antlers and picture someplace prominent down here would help us think of Miss Orenna a little more often.”




The End.
January 2003
Revised July 2008

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