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The blizzard had
begun to rage around
“Looks like I’m
going to be stuck here for the night.” He muttered to himself as he surveyed
the interior of the building. “Fine place to spend a Christmas Eve.”
Everything had
seemed to be going so well this morning when he had set out on his journey back
to the Ponderosa. He knew he was leaving it late, that he should have left the
day before but he had been enjoying his visit with his father’s old friends
Paul and Sarah Roberts, especially the company of pretty Meg Roberts, the
couple’s nineteen year old daughter. This morning the weather had been fine and
bright, just a light covering of snow on the ground. Joe was looking forward to
getting home and sharing the Christmas festivities with his father and brothers
and with Meg’s farewell kiss still warm on his cheek he had departed for the
Ponderosa in good spirit. By mid-morning the sky above him was white with cloud
and a chill breeze had sprung up that seemed to penetrate every opening in
Joe’s clothing, finding it’s way through the fastenings on his jacket and
creeping down his collar. Shivering, he debated turning back, well aware that
the clouds presaged snow and that riding could become hazardous. The thought of
his father’s disappointment if he wasn’t home for Christmas decided him against
it and he pressed on towards the Ponderosa.
A couple of
hours later he knew he’d made the wrong decision, the snow which had fallen
lightly at first, drifting in the breeze, now swirled and eddied around him,
starting to accumulate under Cochise’s hooves. It was getting hard to make out
the trail; everywhere he looked turning into a desert of white.
“We're going to
have to find some shelter, Cooch.” He addressed his horse, rubbing the animal’s
neck. “Wait this storm out.” The pinto tossed his head as if in agreement and
snorted as the snowflakes settled on his velvet nostrils.
Joe considered what to do, there were no homesteads around where he might seek refuge, no caves to take cover in. There was just one possibility, a deserted shack that had once belonged to an old prospector. The man had been dead now for at least five years and his home was little more than a dilapidated ruin but it did still have a roof and walls, even if there were a few holes in them. At least it would offer some protection until the snow stopped.
<><><><><><><><><><>
Looking
around the shack now, Joe felt a growing sense of depression. The wooden
structure had been a sturdy enough little dwelling in its day but five years of
neglect had left it rickety and unsteady, the wind finding myriad holes to
thread its wintry fingers through and even though Joe had managed to light the
stove there was ice forming on the single window that remained intact. The rest
of the windows had been boarded over and a pile of kindling sat beside the
stove, which suggested to Joe that he wasn’t the first traveller to seek
shelter here. He had almost ridden past the place so dense was the snowstorm
whirling around him but luck had been on his side, a slight lull in the storm
letting him catch sight of the building nestled deep in a snowdrift. There was
a small stable attached to the shack with just enough room for a couple of
horses. Finding it dry and reasonably sound Joe had led Cochise inside and
rubbed the horse down as best as he could with his saddle blanket before taking
his saddlebags and heading in to the house.
Pulling
the collar of his heavy blue winter coat tighter around his neck, Joe huddled
over the stove. His thoughts drifted to home, wondering what his family were
doing now and hoping that his father was not too worried about him. He closed
his eyes, picturing the huge fire burning brightly on the hearth of the
Ponderosa ranch house, the table laid ready for supper and the Christmas tree
softly aglow with candlelight. His imagination painted such a vivid scene that
he was reluctant to face the cold, empty room again and it was with a heavy
heart that he eventually opened his eyes. Daylight was fading fast now as night
approached and the room was dim and dreary. Wondering if perhaps the person who
had boarded the windows and chopped kindling had left anything else in the
place, Joe left the warmth of the stove and walked over to examine the lone
piece of furniture in the room, an old dresser. Running his fingers over the
wood Joe saw all the scars of a long, useful life, marks left by hot cups that
had been placed on it, grooves where something had been cut. Pulling open both
drawers he was disappointed, but unsurprised to find them empty. Turning his
attention to the cupboards below he reached out and opened the doors. To his
delight he found that a couple of blankets had been stored inside. Taking them
out, he wrinkled his nose at their musty smell but at least they were dry and
would help him stay warm. Wrapping them around his shoulders he bent to close
the door and noticed something right at the back of the cupboard. Drawing it
out he found himself holding an ancient looking lamp made of gold coloured
metal, which gleamed dully as turned towards the window to examine it.
An
old oil lamp. He decided,
though not like any he’d seen before. Like a picture in one of those old
Bible story books Pa used to read me. He thought, returning to the heat of
the stove and idly rubbing the lamp with the frayed edge of one of the
blankets. Putting the lamp down, he rummaged in his saddlebags for a piece of
beef jerky which he chewed on for a while, listening to the sound of the wind
howling round the cabin and hoping it would let up by morning so that at least
he’d get home for Christmas Day. Eventually, he settled himself down on the
hard wooden floor, pulled the blankets tightly around him and closed his eyes.
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“Let’s
get it over with then.” Joe’s eyes shot open at the words from behind him, hand
going instinctively for his gun. Rolling over he stared in utter astonishment
at the owner of the voice then breathed a long sigh of relief. Of course,
it’s just a dream. He thought, slipping his gun back into his holster. For
the swarthy little person facing Joe could be nothing else. Standing there,
arms folded, he was dressed in the strangest outfit Joe had ever seen. A black
satin sash around the man’s waist set off voluminous pants made of some kind of
red silky material. A waistcoat embroidered with small jewels that glittered in
the dim light from the stove was open to reveal a muscular chest and to top it
all the man’s long dark hair was gathered into a knot on the top of his head
held in place by what looked like a red ribbon. But it wasn’t just the
outlandish garb that decided Joe that the visitor was no more than a dweller in
his dreams, it was the fact that the man’s pointed toed, gold satin slippers,
rested not on the floor but several inches above it.
“Well?”
The man spoke again, looking impatiently at Joe from coal black eyes glittering
beneath heavy, dark eyebrows. “Tell me your wishes.”
“Wishes?”
Joe asked, baffled. “What wishes?”
“Your
three wishes of course.” The man said. He sighed deeply when Joe continued to
look perplexed. “You rubbed the lamp.” He explained slowly as though speaking
to a particularly dim-witted child. “So here I am ready to grant your wishes.”
“The
lamp?” Joe looked round at the old oil lamp sitting beside him on the floor.
“That one?”
“Of
course that one.” The man heaved another heavy sigh and placed his hands on his
chest. “I’m the genie of the lamp. You summoned me forth by rubbing it.”
“Genie?”
“Genie,
Djinn, spirit…call me what you like but hurry it up. It’s cold in this place
and I’d very much like to get back inside my lamp. Like I said, you’ve got
three wishes. One proviso, I can’t bring anyone back from the dead. Except for
that ask for whatever you want.”
“Anything?”
Joe asked with a sudden, devilish grin. This dream wasn’t turning out too
badly. There were a lot of things he’d like to ask for. He just hoped he
wouldn’t wake up before the wishes were granted.
“That’s
what I said.” The genie answered, a touch of contempt in his voice, his upper
lip curling derisively. “Not that you need to tell me really. No doubt you’re
just like all the others. It’ll be untold wealth, fabulous treasures and
beautiful girls, that’s all anyone ever wants. Though looking at this place.”
He added, casting a disparaging eye over the empty shack. “You could do with a
few luxuries. What a miserable place to live.”
“I
don’t live here.” Joe protested, wondering why he was bothering to explain
things to this figment of his imagination. “I’m just sheltering from the storm.
I live with my family over by
“Whatever.”
The genie tapped one foot impatiently, or it would have tapped if he’d been
standing on the floor. As it was the golden slipper just moved up and down a
few times. “Just make the wishes.”
By
now Joe was feeling a little guilty. The genie had been quite correct in his
assumption, money, girls and treasures had figured prominently in his thoughts,
but the mention of his family made Joe suddenly feel very alone, remembering
that this was Christmas Eve.
“I
guess I don’t really need any money.” He said softly. “My family is pretty
wealthy anyway and I sure don’t need anyone’s help to spark a beautiful girl.”
He smiled as he recalled pretty Meg’s farewell to him this morning.
The
genie looked at him in surprise. “Then what do you want?” He asked, interest
aroused by the young man’s rejection of the standard wishes.
Joe
thought of his family at home, the gifts that he knew would be waiting for him
tomorrow, the welcome that awaited him when he finally made it to the
Ponderosa. “I think I’d like to use my wishes for my father and brothers.” He
said at last.
“That’s
a new one.” The genie raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “But there’s nothing
in the rules that says you can’t, so carry on.”
Joe
pictured his family in his mind as he decided what he would wish for each of
them, something that he knew would make them happy this Christmas. “First
there’s Hoss.” He said, thinking of his brother’s open, honest face, his
guileless blue eyes. “He’s been spending a lot of time lately looking after one
of the mares. She’s due to foal any day and he’s worried about her, feels
something’s not right. I just know that if she had her foal safely it would
make him really happy so I wish that for him.”
“A
horse.” The genie snorted. “You want me to make sure a horse is all right?”
“You
did say whatever I wanted.”
Putting
a hand to his forehead as though in despair, the genie nodded. “It’s done.” He
said. “What’s the next one?”
“That’s
for my brother Adam.” Joe told him. “You see, Adam sometimes misses the life
back east. He doesn’t get too many folk round here that understand the things
he likes. Stuff like Shakespeare and music and poetry. He’d really like it if
he could meet someone that he could talk to about all that. I wish he would.”
“An
educated friend for your brother.” The genie said with an anguished look.
“Well, this is certainly different.”
“Then
there’s my
“All
done.” The genie said, floating over to position himself above his lamp. “At
least it was unusual. Personally, I think you’re a fool passing up the girls
and the money but it made a change.” With an imperious wave of his hand the
little genie suddenly became no more than a coiling drift of smoke, which
spiralled down and disappeared inside the lamp.
If
it weren’t just a dream I’d probably have taken the money. Was Joe’s last thought as he sank back
into a deep sleep, untroubled by any further visions.
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It
was the bone aching cold that woke Joe in the morning. At some point in the
night the stove had gone out and the little cabin had taken on an arctic chill.
Shivering, Joe stumbled to his feet and looked anxiously out of the window
where the grey light of dawn was just giving way to a bright morning. In the
glimmerings of a wintry sunshine the snow lay serene and untouched, the storm
had blown itself out and Joe could be on his way.
Folding
the blankets, he stamped his feet a little and rubbed his hands together,
attempting to get some warmth back into his body. He returned the blankets to
the cupboard and was about to take his saddlebags and leave when he caught
sight of the old oil lamp and recalled his strange dream. Picking up the lamp
he examined it carefully before taking it over to the cupboard. ‘Some dream
that was.’ He muttered to himself, his breath forming a misty vapour in the
cold air. ‘Better not have beef jerky for supper again.’
Putting
the lamp back where he’d found it he headed out to saddle up Cochise relieved
to find that the snow was not as deep as he’d feared and that he should be able
to get back to the Ponderosa in time for his Christmas lunch.
The
trail was even easier than he’d thought, by the time he’d travelled a mile or
so from the cabin the covering of snow was no more than an inch or so thick and
Cochise picked his way easily through it. Joe rode into the ranch house at just
before
“Hey,
Joe.” Hoss hailed him excitedly from the doorway of the barn as he dismounted
from Cochise. “Come see this.”
“See
what?” Joe asked, taking his horse’s reins and leading him over to Hoss.
“Old
Primrose done had her babies.” His brother announced proudly leading the way
into the barn where the mare stood suckling two tiny foals, both wavering
slightly, unsteady on their spindly legs.
“Two!”
Joe said in astonishment, looking at Hoss whose face wore a huge, proud grin as
he watched the animals.
“Yep,
twins.” Hoss told him with satisfaction. “One of each, a colt and a filly.”
“That
sure is something.” Joe watched the mother and her young for a while before
leading Cochise over to his stall and beginning to rub him down. “Lunch nearly
ready?” He asked as he fetched oats for Cochise. His stomach rumbled slightly
as he thought of the enormous Christmas meal that Hop Sing would no doubt be
providing.
“It’s
just cold meat and bread.” Hoss told him, not taking his gaze from the mare and
foals. “Hop Sing’s too busy to do much.”
“Too
busy?” Joe asked, with an anxious glance at his brother. “Why? Has something
happened?”
“What
would have happened?” Hoss answered absently. “Less you count that friend of
Adam’s who showed up on yesterday’s stage.”
“A
friend of Adam’s?” Joe felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach.
First the foals, now this… “What friend?”
“Oh,
some fella from back east. Seems like they did nothing all last evening but talk
about books and suchlike. Course Hop Sing’s complaining about one extra for
Christmas lunch tomorrow but he don’t really mind.”
“Christmas
lunch tomorrow.” Joe repeated, his thoughts in turmoil. It had to have been
a dream he had last night, didn’t it? “Hoss?” He asked his brother quietly,
waiting with some trepidation for the answer. “What day is it?”
“What
day?” Hoss turned to stare at him in concern. “You know as well as I do that
today’s Christmas Eve.”
“Then
it’s not Christmas Day yet?”
“Of
course it’s not. You feelin’ all right Little Joe?”
“I’m
feeling just fine.” Joe assured him with a smile. “Where’s Pa?”
“In
the house.” Hoss said, still regarding the young man anxiously. “You sure
you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
Joe told him as he headed out of the barn, convinced now that the genie had
been real and wondering if all of his wishes had been granted.
<><><><><><><><><><>
Ben
was sitting at his desk working when Joe entered the house. He looked up with a
smile as his youngest son approached. “Welcome home, Joseph. I knew you’d make
it back in time for Christmas.”
I
almost didn’t. Joe thought
as he shook his father’s hand and clapped him lightly on the arm. “Everything
all right, Pa?” He asked, perching himself on the edge of Ben’s desk and
looking searchingly at the older man.
“Everything
is perfect, thank you.” Ben said, and Joe saw that the strained look his father
had worn for the past few weeks was gone. Ben looked happy and relaxed as he put
down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “How are the Roberts?” He asked.
“They’re
all well.” Joe told him. “They asked after you, of course. I told them you were
well. You are aren’t you, Pa? Before I left you seemed awful worried about
something.”
“I
have been a little concerned.” Ben admitted. “The Ponderosa has been having a
few business problems. Adam knew about it of course but I didn’t want to worry
you or Hoss with it. At least not till after Christmas. But then this morning I
had a visit from my lawyer and everything’s all cleared up.”
So
the genie granted all three wishes. Joe
thought to himself as he went up to his room to clean up before lunch. But
that doesn’t explain why it’s still Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day.
Joe
was still puzzling over that when the family sat down together that evening.
Adam had brought his guitar downstairs and was getting ready to play a few of
the old Christmas songs that his father liked to hear at this time of year.
Hoss was sitting on the couch, talking to Adam’s old college friend and Ben was
relaxing in the leather armchair by the fire, a glass of brandy in his hand.
Looking around at his family, Joe was very grateful that he was here to share
this special evening with them. Yesterday, in that cold, dismal shack he had
been imagining this and hoping that his father wasn’t too worried about him.
Enlightenment dawned as he recalled the exact words of the third wish that the
genie had granted, the wish for his father. I just wish that he could have a
Christmas free from all worry and stress. So that was why the genie
had taken him back a day, for his father would have been worried if he hadn’t
been here for Christmas.
With a contented
sigh, Joe settled back and prepared to enjoy his Christmas, adding his voice to
the rest of his family’s as Adam picked out the lilting strains of ‘Hark the
Herald Angels Sing’ on his guitar. Though a fleeting thought did just cross his
mind that he might go and take another look at that lamp after Christmas.
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EPILOGUE
Reclining on the
satin couch, just about to pop another morsel of Turkish Delight into his mouth
the genie was irritated to feel his home being lifted up again. A scraping
against the outside of the lamp let him know that he’d been summoned and with a
moue of disgust he transformed himself into smoke and made his way outside.
This time the person holding the lamp was a rough looking mountain man, heavily
bearded and wearing torn and faded clothes. Scared at first, the man soon
overcame his apprehension and giving an irritated sigh the genie was back to
normal, granting wishes for gold, jewels and beautiful women.
THE END
© Kathleen Pitts 2000
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