It’s The Thought That Counts

By Vicki Christian

I guess Christmas is a time for secrets, so maybe I shouldn’t be suspicious but twenty-one years of being a father tends to sharpen the senses. When my sons start acting they way they are right now, I can’t help but suspect trouble and I’m usually right. Now do I confront them or give them enough rope to hang themselves, or maybe as it’s only a week from Christmas do I give them the benefit of any doubts I might have.

It started just over a week ago with whispered conversations between Adam and Hoss. If I approached them the conversation stopped abruptly. A few days ago I was working in the barn when Little Joe and Hoss came in arguing, but as soon as they saw me it stopped. I might have assumed that they didn’t want me to hear them fighting since it is something that earns my disapproval, but that was ruled out when I left and I heard Hoss whisper, "You nearly give it away then. Adam said we gotta keep it secret from Pa and Hop Sing."

Ah! So it is something Hop Sing wouldn’t approve of either and he’d no doubt tell me. This has to be mischief. I shall have to keep an eye out for clues. While waiting for supper I ask Hop Sing if he has any idea of what might be afoot. He shakes his head but tells me that the boys have been asking some unusual questions. I ask him to elaborate.

He thinks for a moment, "Mr Hoss ask how long I cook turkey."

Nothing suspicious there. Hoss probably wants to know how long he has to wait for his dinner. It’s always one of his main concerns and Christmas day is no exception. "What else?" I ask.

"Mr Adam keep asking if I want supplies from town. He not want to go before."

I laugh at this one, "Might have something to do with Eli and Ruth’s niece who arrived last week for a short visit." I reply. "He seems very taken with her. Anything else?"

"Little Joe, always in kitchen. He watch me all time."

I shrug "Little Joe is always underfoot if it means he can avoid yard chores."

I try to shake of my nagging doubts and get on with the work but they just won’t go away. Two days before Christmas my doubts become certainties. At breakfast I gave all three boys a long list of chores. I hoped that by getting things done early we could spend Christmas Eve as a family; finding a tree and decorating it, maybe toboganning, and then sitting by the fire to read the Christmas story. The story is a family tradition and in New Orleans Marie always read it aloud to us. It will be hard but this year I will try to do it in her place. Then the boys hang up their stockings. Oh yes, even Adam still does that. Things have eased financially since he was small and he doesn’t intend to miss out while his brothers get gifts. I have been able to find small things that I know they would like and one present for each to go under the tree. Not that there will be a tree now and maybe the only thing in their stockings will be a switch each.

It is almost dusk and there is no sign of them, hasn’t been since just after lunch, Hop Sing tells me. The regular morning chores were done but none of the extra ones and nothing toward the evening tasks. I work on alone and my temper is rising with each job I have to do myself. Joseph is probably following his brothers’ lead, but Adam and Hoss know better and I shall tell them so when they eventually put in an appearance.

I work on splitting and stacking logs, until I see Hoss at the side of the barn frantically waving to someone behind him, obviously warning that I am just outside the house. Well, we’ll see about that. I stride towards him and he ducks back out of sight. By the time I round the corner of the barn there is no one there. I call out "Erik," but there is no answer. It surprises me since using his given name usually has the desired effect and I get a yes, sir, in response. It is the same with Joseph. With Adam it is the way I say it but I get my meaning across just the same. Well, I can wait. And all the time I wait my temper is simmering.

I go into the house with an armful of logs and by the time I return all three are working hard at chores in the barn. Maybe a little too hard, none of them look up at my approach, in fact, is it my imagination or do they dart warning looks at each other?

"Where have you been all afternoon?" I ask, sharply.

"Oh, hi Pa." Adam offers as if he has just seen me.

"I asked you a question, young man. Where have you been?" I say again slowly and distinctly.

"Been, Pa?" He replies, still not looking me in the eye.

"Yes, been. If the question is too difficult for you, maybe Erik would like to tell me?" I swing around to where Hoss is frantically raking straw.

"Oh, no sir," Adam says quickly and my fatherly intuition is immediately aroused at the use of ‘sir’. A sure sign he considers himself in trouble or is hiding something. "We were… we went hunting… yes, we were going to try to catch some rabbits for supper."

I raise an eyebrow, a rather convoluted way of putting it but I suppose if you are avoiding telling a lie and yet not telling the truth life does get complicated, "I’d have preferred that you asked first." I say mildly. "A little late for supper but welcome anyway for another day. Where are they?"

"What?" He says with a puzzled expression.

"The rabbits." I reply.

"Oh, we didn’t catch none, Pa. No, sir. Never saw nary a one." Hoss tries to help out causing Adam to draw in a breath and look even more nervous. Both Adam and Joseph are pretty adept at avoiding the truth without actually lying and they can look pretty innocent while doing it. Hoss has never been able to fool me. Anything but the whole truth and he goes red and stutters. His last statement is obviously true but then since I doubt they went hunting it’s not surprising.

"Hmph!" I grunt, "So all three of you…" my glance takes in my youngest son, who has so far avoided my eye, "have wasted an afternoon. Get your chores done and we’ll discuss this after supper." I turn to leave and have barely made the door when I hear urgent whispers. I know I shouldn’t; I tell the boys often enough not to do it, but I can’t help eavesdropping just for a moment.

"You think he knows?" comes the voice of my youngest.

"Nah, he’d have said…" I hear Hoss reply.

"He knows." Comes the wise voice of my eldest, "Maybe not what we were doing but he knows for damn sure we weren’t hunting. He hasn’t finished with us yet."

I draw in a sharp breath "You are right there my son and you and I will be having a conversation about the language you use in front of your younger brothers too." I say under my breath.

Supper is a silent affair. The boys are trying to avoid my eye and keep their secrets, whatever they are and I am playing a waiting game to see if one or other will trip themselves up. However, my cat and mouse ploy elicits nothing. Poor Hop Sing is puzzled and then amazed as all three offer to help him wash dishes. I allow them to take this delaying tactic but seat myself by the fire with my book to wait. Slowly they are forced to join me again and all three stick pretty close together. Adam leans against the fireplace, Hoss idly pokes at the logs and Little Joe practically burns himself in an effort to get between the two and out of my line of vision.

I carefully mark my place and close the book, Reaching up to put it on the mantelshelf causes all three to step back and if I wasn’t trying so hard to appear stern, I would have laughed out loud. "Well…" I drop this quietly into the silence and wait a moment before proceeding "I had intended that we spend tomorrow tobogganing and maybe finding a Christmas Tree. A day off so to speak, while we decorate the house and enjoy each other’s company. We could just do the essential chores."

I watch them closely. Joe and Hoss have brightened but Adam has heard and understood what I have said and knows what is coming. I make them wait a moment longer. "But… since you have wasted a day hunting I can no longer do that. You will spend tomorrow doing the chores I had expected completed today and a few extra ones just to remind you that this is a working ranch not a place to play as you wish. There will be no time to go and get a tree, so Christmas this year will be without decorations. What else it will be without will depend on how quickly those chores get done tomorrow." I see that my last comment has been fully understood by all three.

"Now, as we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow I suggest that you two get to bed." I nod in the direction of Hoss and Joseph.

"But Pa, I don’t need to go to bed with Joe. It’s too early." Hoss protests then seeing Adam’s raised eyebrow regrets his words.

Not to be outdone Joe adds his own complaint, "I ain’t tired neither, Pa."

I stand a little straighter and hook my thumbs in my belt. "You are both tired and you are going to bed." I wait until both relax their combatative stance before I continue. "I want to talk to your older brother alone."

The younger boys give their older brother a sympathetic glance before hastening to obey. My oldest son stops leaning on the fireplace and straightens up, shifting from one foot to the other. He looks nearer to twelve than twenty-one.

I wait until the bunkroom door closes behind Hoss and then look directly at Adam. "I don’t appreciate you encouraging your brothers to disobey me." I say sternly. He bites his lip and looks down at his boots but makes no excuses. "And I especially don’t like the language you used in front of them this afternoon."

He looks up startled and guilty.

"Yes, I heard, and I make no apologies for eavesdropping on this occasion. If I hear such words from you again in front of Hoss or Joseph I will forget your age and make full use of a bar of soap." I wait for my words to sink in. "Do I make myself clear."

He brushes that stray lock of hair off his forehead and looks directly at me for the first time. "Yes, sir. I’m sorry."

I nod an acceptance of his apology. "Then you’d better join your brothers in an early night. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

He says goodnight and as he heads into the bunkroom I think I hear him mutter "We sure do."

I can’t complain about the way the boys work on Christmas Eve. Each one puts their back into the tasks I’ve assigned, even Joseph. Adam is so solicitous of my welfare that he suggest he will do some of my work, so that I can go inside and sit with Hop Sing for a cup of coffee. He must be feeling more guilty than I thought. I didn’t think I was that hard on him last night but he has obviously taken it to heart. I take up the offer and go into the house just before dusk. Joseph is the first to come in and I ask what his brothers are doing.

"Oh, just finishing the chores, Pa." He replies casually.

I get up and reach for my coat. "I’ll go and help them."

Joseph is immediately between me and the door "There ain’t no need to do that Pa. They’re almost done."

As I continue to slip my arms into the sleeves of my coat he reaches for a book. "I got some difficult spellin’s to do for school, could you hear me." He thrusts the speller into my hands.

I raise an eyebrow but take the book. I’m suspicious but I can’t turn down the opportunity to encourage the boy in his schoolwork. I shrug out of my coat, "Alright, which page?"

"Oh, any page, Pa." He says, glancing at the window.

I shake my head. I will never understand my sons.

The other two come in sometime later both rubbing their hands and heading for the fire. "Sure is cold out there." Hoss speaks first.

"Yep, sure is." Adam agrees "We got everything done, Pa. It’s been a long day, what say we turn in right after supper?"

Hoss nods "You must be real tired, Pa."

Do I detect sarcasm? No, Hoss wouldn’t understand it, much less use it. He is telling me he wants me to go to bed early because I’m tired. Well I won’t argue with that but why are they so keen to go to bed all of a sudden. Last night I had to insist, in fact most nights I have to insist. Even Joseph seems happy with the arrangement, which is next to a miracle.

I am awakened by a noise, no several noises which I try to identify. My door which I normally leave cracked open so I can hear if the boys are sick, a habit from earlier times, is firmly closed. Through it I hear muffled voices speaking in whispers and the sound of someone moving near the fireplace. Ah, I understand we forgot to hang up stockings and the boys have just remembered and rectified the situation. Its not a problem since I always cheat. I keep the second sock in my room and fill it before I go to bed, then as I’m always up first, except for Hop Sing, I simply swap them over. I’ve been doing this for several years and Santa has never been caught yet. I turn over and snuggle back under the blankets. The sounds die away for a while and I fall asleep again.

When I next wake it is still dark but there is a glow of light under my door, someone is up and about. I hear the soft padding of feet and guess that it is Hop Sing, reviving the fire ready to cook breakfast. No, there is more than one set of feet and more whispering. I roll over on my back and consider my options; leave well alone and hope they will go back to bed when they realise Santa hasn’t done his job yet, get up and check that all is well, get up and give them a piece of my mind for waking me so early. The last two involve leaving my bed so I lie still and wait to see if there are further developments.

I can feel a draft of cold air and hear the outside door close softly. Someone has gone out, or come in, I can’t tell which. This is more serious. I relax when I realise that I bolted the door. Maybe Hop Sing needed something for breakfast and has gone to the storeroom. There is now a soft scraping sound followed by a single thump as though something has been set down heavily. I rub the sleep from my eyes, curiosity is getting the better of me. I reach for my pants and pull them on, I’m already wearing winter underwear and socks, its pretty cold even in bed. As I move toward the door I hear Hop Sing’s whispered voice, "What you boys do?"

"It’s a surprise Hop Sing, go back to bed. We’ll come tell you when we’re done." Adam’s quiet voice answers.

I hear Hop Sing grumbling but he must have done as he was asked. I am reassured that things are alright so I reach for my shirt and sit a moment to reflect on the day ahead, but the sounds continue. A rustling followed by more whispers and now a sound as though something heavy is being dragged across the floor. I only hope no damage is being done to those boards. They took weeks to sand down smooth. Then I recall that Adam and Hoss did a lot of the work, so I know they won’t allow any rough treatment.

"Is it ready now?" I hear the excited voice of my youngest son. "Will they like it?" His whispers have grown in volume and it would be hard not hear now.

"You bet. It’s the best present." Hoss replies.

"Sure they will," comes the not so certain voice of my eldest son. The slight catch in his voice making me wonder what exactly Hop Sing and I are going to be faced with. Whatever it is they are going to a lot of trouble and I wonder if their behaviour these past few days might have been as a resulted of this secret. My conscience pricks a little as I think of my words last night.

"Can I go wake, Pa." Joseph’s excited voice again. I am delighted to hear him so happy no matter what the reason. This is his first Christmas without his mother and all the things Marie used to do for him, for us. It’s going to be a hard day for me and for them.

"Not yet," Adam’s says quietly "We’ve got one more thing to do."

I lean back against the bed head and wait, I don’t want to spoil whatever it is they have planned. Maybe ten minutes later the smell of coffee brewing reaches me and I can no longer resist. I make more noise than usual as I open the shutters and pull on my boots. Making sure they know I’m awake.

I hear Hoss call to Hop Sing that he can come in now and I open my door to the warmth of the main room. The first thing I notice is that the fire is burning brightly and the coffee pot is bubbling. The empty stockings still hang above the hearth but what is that to the left? Twinkling lights of candle flames set on a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. On the top an angel dressed in pink, yes pink. I remember Marie making it and having only pink silk. The boys must have found their own tree and decorated it, but when did they sneak into my room and find the box of decorations. I remember bringing it hear when we moved in and putting it away because it reminded me of my darling wife. She adored Christmas.

My eyes mist over but as I look down to recover I notice a plate of sugar cookies in the shape of stars, pine trees, and animals and at its centre a heart. I glance at Hop Sing and he shakes his head. Marie always made these for the boys for Christmas morning, the heart was always for me. My throat constricts as I realise that my sons have remembered and done this out of love.

"I made ‘em, Pa." Joe is jumping up and down to make me take notice "Mrs Orowitz helped me. I told her what shapes and she helped cut ‘em too. Do you like ‘em?"

"Yes, son. I love them." I glance at Hoss and Adam and see that their eyes are misty too as we all remember a loved one.

Adam reaches over and pours coffee for Hop Sing and I. Hop Sing shakes his head. "I have to make breakfast." he says.

Hoss’ turn to shake his head now. "No, you don’t, Hop Sing. Me and Adam are gonna do it, we bin practising with Mrs Orowitz and Mrs Greene. You ain’t doin’ nuthin’ today, neither is Pa," he grins at me.

I raise an eyebrow, breakfast sounds fine, I can cope with hard biscuits and overcooked bacon I’ve been eating my own for years, but supper is another matter. "What about supper?" I ask, almost dreading the answer.

Joe is hopping up and down again "Look in the crate." He squeals.

I turn to where he is pointing and for the first time notice an enormous wooden crate by the door… the sound of scraping comes back to me.

I throw my oldest son an inquiring look but he pretends to miss it.

"Yeah, Pa. Open the crate. It’s for you and Hop Sing from all of us."

Hop Sing shrugs and together we move toward the box. Adam hands me a claw hammer, which he just happens to have in his hand ready for the occasion it seems.

Two or three nails and one side of the crate falls away to reveal a shiny black cookstove. It’s small but has a bread oven, a warming oven and four hotplates, perfectly adequate for our needs.

"D’you like it, Pa?" Joe asks, still hopping from one foot to the other. "I helped polish it."

"Oh yeah, not much you didn’t. I did most of it. Well, Adam fixed it first." He throws an apologetic glance at his older brother.

Adam smiles "It’s not new, Pa. Mr Orowitz found it for us and we fixed it and cleaned it up."

"But how… I mean…" I am totally lost for words, the tree, the cookies and now this. How did they do it in secret and how did they pay for it? So many questions run through my head but I know that at this moment I must not voice any of them or I will spoil the moment.

"You do like it don’t ya, Hop Sing? It was my idea." Hoss wears a worried frown. I can see that he so wants this gift to be perfect.

Hop Sing removes the rest of the packing and walks around the stove. "It beautiful, most wonderful cookstove I ever see. I bake good pies with this."

"See, Pa. I knows how you like pie." Hoss adds for my benefit.

Adam chuckles "You kinda like it yourself too."

We all join he laughter, even Hoss.

While Adam cooks breakfast, Hoss and I with some help, at least he meant it to be help, from Joseph move the stove to its proper place and begin to connect up the pipes for the chimney. Hop Sing supervises and later we will cut the hole to vent it outside.

While the boys do chores, Hop Sing and I clear away the packing and finish the installation. I also remember those stockings and make the exchange. I glance up at the tree as I place three packages underneath. How on earth did they get this in here and decorate it without me hearing far more than I did? I finger the packages as I set them down, nothing impressive but I know they are gifts that will be appreciated; books for my voracious reader, a new bridle for my soft hearted middle son who will love it because it adorns his beloved horse and a real hunting knife for my youngest who so wants to be grown-up far too fast. My last gift of herbs and spices will please my Chinese friend and make our meals more tasty so we all benefit.

Many hours later we have opened the gifts, eaten a meal cooked on our new stove. Hoss managed to get the turkey just right, even though our meal was rather late.

Now might be the time for that story, it has to be quite a story. I look over at my oldest son. At least if he tells it we won’t have too many misunderstandings and drawn out explanations as if I ask Hoss or Joseph. "Now, just how did you keep all this a secret?" I start.

Adam laughs "Did we? I rather thought you knew we were up to something."

I smile "Up to something is right, but I never imagined it was this."

"You mean you thought we were in trouble," he says with a smirk "How could you think that? No, don’t answer that," he adds.

Hoss looks worried "We ain’t in trouble are we Pa?"

I shake my head "No, son. You are not in trouble… unless of course this story has more twists than I think."

"It’s alright Pa, we can tell the whole thing now." He sits forward and rests his forearms on his knees. "It was Hoss’s idea to get the stove. Right after he heard Hop Sing complaining about cooking on the fire. But we couldn’t afford one. We saved up all our money, mostly what we earned with Jack,…"

"I saved mine too." Joe interrupted, a slightly hurt look on his face.

"Yes, you did, Little Joe, I know. But it still wasn’t enough for the one in the catalogue Mr Orowitz has. When he knew what we wanted Mr Orowitz wrote to the people who make the stoves and asked if they ever got old ones in exchange."

"Yeah, he’s right clever. I mean who’d a thought some folks can afford to buy a new stove when they got a good old one?" Hoss joined in until Adam waved him to silence.

"So we ordered one of them and we had enough for it and for it to be sent out here."

Joe was bouncing on the settee at this point. "It took forever and we thought it wouldn’t come for Christmas, but it did."

Adam sighed at the constant interruptions and gave his little brother a pained look "So once we knew we’d got the stove we had to find time to clean it up – we hid it at the store and worked on it there. Joe learned to bake those cookies while we were there too. That’s why we kept going to town." He glanced at me apologetically, we didn’t quite get it done and we had to fetch it the day before yesterday, that’s why we went missing." He bit his lip nervously, "I’m sorry we kinda lied to you about that, but we wanted to keep the secret one more day."

Joe could keep still no longer "But you already punished us for that, didn’t ya, Pa. I mean we did extra chores and worked real hard on Christmas Eve." He said, hopefully.

When I said nothing, Adam cleared his throat and continued.

"Anyway, when you said no tree, we kinda slipped off late last night and got one and decorated it during the night. It isn’t Christmas without a tree and Ma’s angel on the top."

A look passed between the boys and I could almost feel the emotion in the room as they all remembered Christmases past.

"It was a wonderful surprise, boys and I thank you for it and for the gift."

They all look relieved and we sit back satiated and sleepy. I light my pipe and look around me at my family, my blessings.

I am almost asleep and ready to suggest bed when I see my youngest son making faces at his older brother. What is he trying to convey?

Adam clears his throat as if he finds it hard to get the words out and when he speaks I know why.

"Pa, things got kinda muddled yesterday and well… we didn’t do things that we usually do." Adam, usually so clear headed and concise in his arguments, is struggling with his thoughts and having difficulty with his words. He is speaking slowly and hesitantly.

I try to help him out. "It’s alright son, I made some wrong assumptions too. I should have known you were keeping Christmas secrets."

"It ain’t that, Pa," Hoss interrupts. "It’s just that we missed …" his voice too fades away.

"We didn’t read the Christmas story," Little Joe blurts out. "Ma always…" he stops and comes over to me and climbs on my knee. "Ma always read it out loud to us." He hugs me. "I miss her."

"I miss her too, son." I look up, at Adam and Hoss, "We all do."

Adam gets up and hands me the family Bible "Please, Pa, it will make her seem closer," he stops and looks at me, "If you don’t mind… I mean I could…"

My sensitive son has seen how much this is hurting and is trying to protect me. I smile up at him as I take the book. "I should have remembered last night. Of course I’ll read it."

Joe settles in closer and fingers the red velvet ribbon where Adam has thoughtfully marked the place in Luke’s gospel. My older sons gather around my chair and even Hop Sing sits expectantly by the table. This may not be his religion but we are his family now and I am pleased that he feels part of our traditions.

I read the age old story and watch as each of my sons listens to the words and recalls his own memories of Christmases past.

Long after they have gone to bed I sit alone and recall my own memories. I touch the stove so lovingly prepared as a gift and I laugh at Hoss’ protestations that he wasn’t thinking of his own stomach when he suggested it. I look at the beautiful tree and that precious angel. Yes, my own precious angel isn’t with me this year, but she and my loves before her have left me something of themselves, something even more precious, our sons.

THE END