Lights

"I dunna want a surprise no more, I only wants Pa back," little Hoss whined, staring intensely out through their cabin's small window towards the clearing around it. "It's awful dark."

"C'mon, Hoss, Pa will be back soon," his older brother answered. "If you look from inside out, it always seems a lot darker than if you are outside. It's not that late."

Hoss shot his brother a doubtful glare.

"How about we sit down by the fire and I tell you a story?"

"Alright," Hoss left his place at the window hesitantly. "But not too scary, Adam. I don't like sumt'n scary now."

"What about the bear family?"

"Okay."

Adam was relieved he could distract the-four-year old, but while he poked the fire and thought about a story he couldn't stop himself from listening for any sounds that indicate their father's return.

….

Cold, freezing, ice-cold! Where's my blanket? Must have fallen down. I'm so tired but I have to find my blanket. Ben moved slightly but couldn't reach it. It must be a nightmare, it can't be so cold in my bed, I have to wake up, I have to. When I open my eyes everything will be fine. But I'm so tired. Too tired. Ben drifted back to sleep but just before he slept deeply he awakened again with a start. Something must be wrong in the cabin; this isn't a dream. His eyelids fluttered open, but he could see nothing. It was pitch-black around him and cold, freezing, ice-cold.

And there was a throbbing pain in his head. Involuntarily his hands went to the center of the pain. There was an oversized lump on the back of his skull. In that moment everything came back. Ben tried to orient in the darkness: Right behind him was the hillside, where he'd been climbing down with the deer he'd just shot across his shoulders. There'd been a patch of ice; he'd slipped, he'd fallen. He must find his sled, there were at least lucifers. He hadn't brought a lantern with him; he had intended to be home long before dark, but he could make a torch. Ben tried to stand up and found he was so cold he could barely move. How long had he lain here in the snow? At least he had worn his new fur-lined coat. He shouldn't have been so greedy! They had already a fat goose for Christmas from Will Cass. Greediness was never good! If he hadn't followed the fresh deer tracks, he would have been safely home long before. But the promise of so much fresh meat had been stronger than his common sense. Ben tried to make out his surroundings, but there were no stars and no moonlight to give even a trace of light. Suddenly Ben knew if he didn't find his own tracks, he wouldn't find the cabin before sunrise, and he doubted he could live that long outside, not as cold as he already was. At this moment the snow started to fall.

…

When Hoss winced the second time at the peculiar loud mooing from the barn, Adam knew he couldn't pretend that everything was all right any longer. Pa was late, hours too late. So he abandoned his story and looked away from the fire to Hoss, who was staring back at him with wide blue eyes. Adam met his little brother's gaze directly and declared, "I'm going to tend to the animals now." It was their father's duty, they both knew.

Hoss's forehead furrowed for a while before he slowly nodded.

"And to milk Suzy and…Betsy."

"But Pa said, we should stand away from her, she coulds be mean."

"I know," Adam said, stood up, and started to put on his coat.

Hoss stayed on the bench and watched his brother, his face showing that he tried to understand what spoken and unspoken information his older brother's behavior implied. "I'm com' with you, I feed Betsy so she wills not kick you," he declared finally and slid down from the quilt-padded bench.

….

Ben wasn't sure how long it had taken him to search for his sled and make a passable torch. First he had actually fallen over the dead deer and had hefted it to a forked tree branch hoping he would find it again later then he had discovered that his left snow shoe was broken, and when he finally found the sled, two of his four matches were burned down before the snow-sodden branch he had chosen for a torch caught fire. He had unsuccessfully tried to fix the snow shoe and at last followed his tracks through the deep snow—until they vanished. Oh no, it didn't take a blizzard to blot out a trail. Ben had always avoided leaving the house when he saw signs of one. It didn't need a heavy snowfall either—but only this gentle dusting of small flakes had been enough to cover the shallow traces of his snow shoes! How often had he told his boys in the half-year they had lived out in the wilderness never to go into woods alone, much less in the dark? There were so many tales of lost children found in the spring as little skeletons. And now he stood there, lost and without an orientation. Even if the stars were shining, he could only tell the general direction; in the darkness and snow he could miss his cabin by a few hundred yards and walk on into nowhere. The young man tumbled stiff-legged further and fell yet again, but scrambled back to his feet. He must live, not for himself but for his boys waiting in the cabin he couldn't find. Ben felt how exhaustion and despair filled his eyes with hot water that immediately froze on his cheeks. When he felt the irritation of the ice on his face, he was aware that he hadn't felt his legs and arms, let alone his feet and hands, for a long time. He wondered for a moment if he maybe had lost the small sled because he didn't feel the rope anymore, but it stood next to him. How long would he be able to bend his knees, to stand up again after a fall? Should he stop wandering in the dark and make a fire to warm himself? Would it work? Would the wet wood catch fire? Could he find some pinecones under the snow? Maybe he should sacrifice his sled and its load. But how long would it last?

…..

Adam stood in the dark yard, and enjoyed the icy wind blowing in his face. He had tried to make it warm in their cabin, warm and cozy, and he had heated milk for his little brother, his favorite drink, and sliced some bread and even some cold meat, although he wasn't sure if he should. After their supper he had convinced Hoss to crawl into their bed and try to sleep. But Hoss couldn't sleep, and he had tried to comfort him, but suddenly he couldn't stand being in the stuffy cabin. Telling Hoss he would make sure all was locked up, he had gone out. It was so good to feel the ice-cold wind in his face. He stood there, his feet stamping the ground, wide-legged, looking around, braving the snow and wind. Then without warning the fear jumped up at him. Since Inger's death the fear had been always there, in the back of his mind. The fear he had tried to control the whole day nearly overwhelmed him. Where was his father? What if he never returned? What if he never saw him again? There were wild animals outside, in wintertime coming quite close to the house. Pa would have his hide if he knew he stood here so long alone in the night. But he couldn't go inside and face Hoss yet. What could he tell him? Adam stared again in the dark, and suddenly his heart jumped. Was there a flickering far away? But it went out, or maybe had never existed. The boy's shoulders slumped. Maybe it was only his wishful thinking, because the world was dark and empty. Dark and empty like the ocean in the lonely vigils aboard the clipper ships his father had told him about.

…..

Ben cut the branches of a fallen pine tree. His torch, thrust upright in the snow, gave only a faint red glow to the scenery, and the frozen branches seemed to fight back the effort of his lame arms. In his desperation Ben prayed, even argued with the Lord; finally he begged God not to make his boys responsible for their father's mistakes and sins, and then he could only repeat over and over again, "Oh Lord, please, help my boys, please don't let them down." While he was praying and cutting, he hadn't noticed the change of the weather. The snow had stopped. A sudden gust of wind made his torch waver. He jumped over to shelter it with his body. He needed this torch desperately to light his fire.

And then he saw it in the darkness before him: A glimmer, not very bright, but clear. Ben loaded the branches he had just cut onto his sled, grabbed the rope, and walked in the direction the light revealed.

After a while the moonlight—the wind had blown the clouds away—helped him to recognize the landscape: there was the big rock and there the three old pines. He was out of the dense part of the woods, and the light was now larger and brighter; it seemed to hang in the air. Suddenly he knew where he was. He ran. He hadn't any strength left, but he ran, ran, ran. There was the path into the clearing, and there was the cabin. Hanging high on the beam they used to pull up the hay to the loft of the barn, a lantern swung softly in the breeze, and then the door burst open, and two nightshirt-clad, barefoot boys jumped through the snow and into his embrace.

"Pa, I'm so happy you're back. When I stood in the dark…" Adam's voice was choked up. "I thought about your tales from the ocean, and about lighthouses, so I thought…" his voice broke again as he snuggled up to his father's chest.

Ben whispered hoarsely, "Without your beacon I doubt I would have found my way into the harbor." And Ben kissed the black and the blond crowns before him in turns, clinging to his sons like a man rescued from drowning.

…..

The next day Adam and Hoss were ordered to bring the sled that still stood on the rim of the clearing to the house. "Why should we bring this ol' wood inside? Branches and a li'l tree? And it's not even chopped," Hoss declared accusingly. "It's all green and wills stink."

Adam laughed. "It will not stink, Hoss, but you have to wait until tomorrow evening. You will like it, I promise you."

"Do ya-self like it, Adam?"

"Oh yes, I do," and Adam thought his heart could burst for all the joy that was in it.

….

On Christmas Eve Ben had brought his Bible to read the Christmas story to his boys as his own father and many other Cartwrights before him had.

When he finished the Christmas story, Hoss's expression showed he was thinking deeply. Then the little boy asked, "Pa, that star was the Lord's light 'n house, wasn't it? It was like Adam's lantern on the stable and showed them three men the way. A light on the house."

"The word is lighthouse, Hoss, but you are right. Lighthouses and the star of Bethlehem have a lot in common. They show you your way even in the darkest nights to what's real important, and the candles on this tree help us remember the meaning of that star." Ben wrapped an arm around each boy's shoulders and sitting on the bench together they silently watched the honey-smelling candles on the first Christmas tree on the Ponderosa.

Thank you, Sandspur and Sklamb, for the beta.