Cody was on his bed in his hotel room with the pillow clamped over his head tight trying to muffle the sound of those damned bells. When it didn't work he threw the pillow at the wall. He looked out the window to the snowy street below and saw people walking and greeting each other cheerily. They would hug and smile and from somewhere he could even hear the sounds of people singing. If he strained a bit more he probably could have figured which stupid, lying carol it was they were belting out with such gusto. He wouldn't though because he didn't care. Each was as bad as the next. In fact it's why he was in the hotel in the first place. He could have been at the camp with the other soldiers but they seemed so intent on their celebration and he just couldn't join their merriment this year. He wasn't sure what it was about this Christmas but he just hated every bit of it. Maybe it was all the death he had seen and maybe it was that he hadn't been back to see his family in a while. It could have also been that he hadn't received one gift, one card, or even one little note to say that they even missed him. War was everywhere and he didn't even know where his family all was. In his angriest thoughts he would take note that at least Ike and Noah were easy to keep track of. It was an ugly thought but sometimes he thought the safest place in the world was six feet underground.
He was pretty sure that Emma and Sam were alright though marshalling got harder and more dangerous when there was a war going on. He hoped Teaspoon was still holding up. He knew the man was tough as nails but he was no spring chicken anymore. Lou and Kid were together and he hoped alright. They had a little one now and it was a hard land to make a life on and it seemed harder on the little ones. Buck was, well, Cody didn't always know where. He'd stumble upon Buck from time to time but the man never lit anywhere for long. It was safer for him. He spent so much time in his life trying to belong somewhere, be needed, be useful. Now, with war and other unrest, he was needed and useful but not for tasks he wanted any part of. Some of those tasks were ones Cody found distasteful as well but Buck would have been brought to his knees by them. It was better if no one really knew where to find him for a while. If they could not find him, they could not use him. Rachel, he supposed was still teaching school. What he wouldn't give right about then for a plate of her stew. It wasn't that the food at the hotel was poor or anything, it just wasn't Rachel's. There was no love in it. If he grabbed for a biscuit too quickly, he stood no risk of getting swatted upside the head. It was hard to think he missed such a thing but he did.
Jimmy was another whose whereabouts he was completely unaware of. He sort of joined up as well and was all over the place. It was like he was still running from something while he was pretending he was running toward things all the time. Cody had thought Jimmy would've outgrown such a thing by now but he hadn't. Whatever ghosts pursued him, they must be some real monsters to keep him on the run like they did. But at this point, Cody didn't even know if Jimmy was dead or alive.
He laid there and heard those godforsaken bells start up again and first tried to be comforted that being Christmas, wherever those he loved were, they were possibly hearing such bells as well. He used to take solace in looking at the moon or stars in the night and knowing the same moon and stars looked on those he cared so deeply for but the sky seemed too big now to feel any good in that. And thinking about those metal monstrosities clanging out from the church belfry wasn't helping either. The sound of cold metal could hardly heal all that had broken within him. He was alone. He was, in fact, more alone than he had ever been in his entire life. There was no one who cared a lick about him and he knew it. Those he loved were all either gone or had no time to spare for a thought for him. His mind now raced to every exchange with his friends, those who had formed a family from nothing but a few orphans that the rest of the world threw away. There were so many times when he'd upset them, let them down. No wonder they wanted nothing to do with him now. He had brought this on himself.
And he knew his own letters back had taken such a somber tone lately that they probably brought no joy with them. He was certain the others received them with near dread for the sadness he could not keep from his words. He still believed in fighting for the Union. He believed slavery wrong and that he was doing what he was doing in Noah's name but so much went on in this war that he felt besmirched Noah's memory more than honored it. He'd seen too many dead, too many who were far too young to even be thinking about fighting to the death and there they were being loaded into pine boxes and sent back to their kin.
He wanted to pray for his family. He wanted to ask God to keep them safe and to somehow let them know how much he still loved them. And he would have prayed too if not for the fact that he was absolutely certain there was no God. There simply couldn't be. He'd seen bad and experienced bad but there was always good to be found. There was Emma's unconditional love and Teaspoon's endless wisdom and Kid's good natured smile. There was the pride in Noah's eyes and the ability Buck had to keep himself together when the rest of the world wanted to tear him apart. He recalled the gentle spirit of dear Ike and even Jimmy's hotheadedness masked a fierce love and devotion to his family. When he was with them and saw the love they showered on him and each other he had no choice but to believe there was someone or something looking down and seeing to him; making sure he had the things and people he needed. But now there was nothing and he knew that if there had been a God before that there was not one now. The bells stopped their incessant racket for a while and Cody reclaimed his pillow from the floor and went back to bed for a nap.
The clerk behind the counter in the hotel looked up.
"May I help you sir?"
"Yeah, I was told a William Cody was staying here. What room is he in?"
"I'm sorry sir," the clerk replied fussily, "I cannot give out information on our guests."
The clerk heard the click of a pistol being cocked before feeling the cold steel against his chin.
"I asked nice the last time," the man with the gun said, "I ain't asking again. Tell me the room number."
"Of course," the clerk replied, "I'm so sorry. He's in room four."
The man lowered the pistol taking no note whatsoever of the frightened people around him nor even the one woman who fainted away at the scene. He grabbed a satchel from the floor next to him and made his way up the stairs holstering the pistol as he went. Those near to the man climbing the stairs heard him grumbling to himself as he went along. They were sure they recognized him but weren't certain where they may have seen him before.
The pounding on the door woke Cody from his sleep and his dour mood returned immediately. In his dreaming, he had been back in Sweetwater hearing the familiar call of 'Rider coming' and laughing with his old friends. They were all together and it felt good and right and now someone was dragging him from even the memory of anything good.
"Open the damned door!"
The voice was rough and almost mean but then there was something familiar in it as well. He didn't even dare to hope. He just shuffled slowly to the door and opened it. On any other day he would have grabbed his pistol before opening the door but this day he just didn't even care anymore. If someone shot him between the eyes he could just join Ike and Noah and, for all he knew, Jimmy. That would be just fine with William F. Cody right about then.
He didn't get shot upon opening the door. He got hugged.
"Cody, are you a sight for sore eyes," the man before him said and it wasn't just any man. It was James Hickok in the flesh. "I have been riding for days. I don't suppose I could come in and take a load off."
Cody stepped back and just nodded dumbly at his friend who he had convinced himself was probably dead.
"Jimmy," was all Cody could even think to say.
"Yep, that's still my name," Jimmy said, "Though people keep trying to give me different ones. Hell I probably just inspired a new Wild Bill book with how I got your room number. I was just too damned tired to bother with niceties though."
"I hadn't heard from you in a while," Cody said.
"Well, I never was much one for writing," Jimmy said, "I appreciate getting your letters though. It's good to know you're still out there."
The bells began again and Cody sighed.
"What's eating you?" Jimmy asked, "I don't think I've ever seen you this down before and we've been through some pretty tough times together."
"Those stupid bells," Cody replied, "This ridiculous day. As if one day of people smiling and singing songs and ringing those damned bells is going to change anything at all."
"The bells," Jimmy said, "Right, well, that's actually sort of why I tracked your sorry ass down. I guess Santa couldn't make it on a count of the war and all so I got sent."
Jimmy opened the satchel and began to pull things out.
"I guess before I go too much further I should say Merry Christmas to you, Cody," Jimmy said, "I know we seen some stuff that ain't too merry but still. It's good to see you."
Jimmy continued rummaging through the sack.
"What's in there, Jimmy?"
"You'll see," Jimmy told him, "Well, I guess I can tell you, it's Christmas."
"Christmas in a sack?" Cody asked skeptically.
"Why not?" Jimmy responded, "Isn't that how Santa Claus does it?"
"Well, you sure the hell ain't Santa."
"Nope but I'm bringing this all to you anyway because that's just the kind of nice guy I am," Jimmy said and then sat up, "Well, here's what I was looking for."
He produced a bottle of whiskey.
"Teaspoon caught hell for putting that in here but I'll tell you riding in this cold and I'm glad to have it," Jimmy said snatching glasses from a small table in the room and pouring them each a generous amount. "I'm betting you could use some yourself."
"Teaspoon sent this?" Cody asked.
Jimmy just nodded and then pulled out a container that looked like a cake plate with a kind of bowl or bucket tied down over it.
"Yeah," Jimmy said, "And Rachel sent this."
He untied the top and it was a cake plate and there was a cake on it. The cake had wobbled a bit within its container but it looked largely intact and more than edible.
"What else you have in that bag?" Cody asked as his spirits started to rise just a bit.
"Lou sent one of her first attempts at knitting," Jimmy said as he pulled a long and misshapen scarf from the bag. It might have been the saddest excuse for a scarf that ever had been made but for Cody it was the most beautiful ever woven.
"Emma sent you some wool socks she made, too. And this," Jimmy said, "Is from Buck."
"You've seen Buck?"
"I have," Jimmy said, "He's doing a pretty good job of not being found but sometimes he lets me find him. He wanted you to have this, said it would keep you safe."
Jimmy held up a small pouch on a string and Cody readily placed it around his neck. He had scoffed at Buck's beliefs in the past and his eagerness to wear the thing had less to do with the superstition behind it than the fact it was a piece of his friend he could have with him at all times.
"There's all of these too," Jimmy said holding up letters. "I figure you'd want to read them when you're alone. Everyone sends their love."
Cody noticed the chiming bells once more and somehow they sounded sweet and warming to him now.
"Merry Christmas, Jimmy," Cody said, "And thank you."
Jimmy nodded to his friend and refilled their glasses. The two old friends talked into the night and laughed about the old times. They looked to a future with a sense of hope that seemed impossible only a few hours before.
After Jimmy had gone, Cody sat alone and read the letters. Each one was full of news, good and bad. There were stories that made him nearly weep and others that had him laughing out loud. Rachel's cake sat happily in his stomach and Emma's socks warmed his feet but most important was how all of their words warmed his heart. Jimmy had, in fact brought Christmas in that bag. All of the people Cody had missed so very much had been missing him too and sent little pieces of themselves to see him through.
Jimmy's letter was the last he read and most of it sounded like things he could have written himself but the closing struck him in the way it can strike a person when he realizes that a true friend knows what you need before you need it. He was hit full in the face with the awareness that the prayer he was so reluctant to utter had been answered anyway with these words.
"I ought to be signing off on this note, Cody. But remember, you have a friend in this world and if you need me, I'll always be able to find you."
Cody put the letter down and then he did utter a prayer. It was only two words but a more sincere prayer was never sent heavenward.
"Thank you."
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.
I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.
And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."
Till, ringing singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!