JOHNNY ROGERS was no ordinary city-slicker
kid. He loved old cowboy movies. Matter of fact, Johnny
learned to rope from watching the cowboys on those
programs twirl their lassos, toss their ropes ever so
gently and rope cattle, horses, sheep and, sometimes,
playfully, even other cowboys. Johnny roped chairs and
couches. He was such an expert roper; he could even rope
his speedy little brother.
He practiced roping all day, every day, all year long. It
was all part of little cowboy Johnny's plan. You see,
Johnny was angry with Santa Claus.
"Night, Mama," said Johnny, already in his pajamas.
"Good night?" his mother questioned. "It's only five
o'clock?"
"You're going to bed early on Christmas Eve?" asked his
father.
"Well, pardners, I reckon all this excitement has tuckered
me out. I'm hitting the sack early, this evenin'," he said
as he strutted over to his ma and pop to kiss them
goodnight.
Johnny couldn't wait to see his special Christmas
visitor—Santa Claus!
Johnny dashed to his bedroom. He took off his favorite
hat, the rim embroidered with his initial, and hung it on
his bedpost. He hung his rope gently on a round wooden peg
that he made himself from the front of an old birdhouse.
Then, Johnny changed into some flannel PJ's, but he kept
one thing on—his boots! A real cowboy, after all, always
sleeps with his boots on.
Johnny tucked himself under his woolen blanket as if he
were out on the prairie. He plopped his head on his
pillow. The glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling always
made him feel like he was sleeping outdoors.
What a busy week! He'd been planning and waiting and
practicing for this night every day! But Johnny's eyelids
grew heavier than a pair of horseshoes, and he fell asleep
faster than a buckin' bronco. He dreamed of riding a white
horse in the Wild West as a coyote howled Jingle Bells and
a nearby cactus sparkled with Christmas lights.
Suddenly, Johnny's eyes popped open. His heart skipped a
beat. Did he oversleep?
Johnny quickly hit the trail, tumbled down the stairs, and
hid himself behind the living room couch. The Christmas
tree lights twinkled in the room, bouncing about like
stars in the sky. Johnny touched the rough, long and
curled rope at his side and smiled.
Just then, in the blink of a buffalo's eye, Santa Claus
magically appeared in Johnny's living room in front of the
fireplace. He bent over and dropped his sack. Johnny
quietly stood up and twirled his lasso around his head,
locking his eyes on his red-suited target.
WHIR. WHIR. WHIR.
Santa's ears perked. He quickly turned, saw the little
cowboy and darted to get away.
Johnny threw his trusted lasso. Santa moved to avoid the
oncoming rope, but it was too late—Johnny's lasso had
encircled him. Johnny tugged with all his might and within
seconds had Santa pinned with his arms to his side. As
fast as a jackrabbit, Johnny ran around and around and
around and around Santa with his rope.
Santa could not move a single muscle. In all his years of
Christmas visits, only a handful of children had ever seen
him and none had ever lassoed him.
"Gotcha!" whispered Johnny.
Santa was speechless for a moment. "Why it seems you do,"
said Santa. "Now, that you got me, what do you intend to
do with me?" Santa wanted to laugh, but he didn't want to
encourage Johnny's naughty behavior.
"We need to chat," replied Johnny. "And I wanted to talk
to you, not one of your helpers at the stores or park."
His voice grew serious. He tied a knot into his rope
securing his large red-suited prize. Johnny jumped up onto
a chair. He looked Santa straight in the eyes. "I make my
bed every day. I pay attention in school. I don't talk
back to grown ups. I always do my best at everything… and
I keep wondering… how come I didn't get what I wanted for
Christmas last year?"
Santa paused and nodded. "Not everyone can get what they
want for Christmas. You know that, Johnny."
"I only wanted one thing. I wrote ya letters. I drew ya
pictures. I tried so hard to be good all year long, and it
ain't so easy with a little brother ‘round, ya know."
Santa laughed softly. "You can't have a horse, Johnny. You
live in the city. Where would you keep it? I know for a
fact your mom and pop would be mighty upset with me if I
left a horse in your living room. That's why I gave you
that lasso and hat for Christmas last year. Horses, after
all, are mighty fearful of heights, too, you know. A horse
would be right miserable flying in my sleigh."
Johnny fought back a tear.
Santa saw Johnny's heart was broken. But he had to get
back in his own saddle again, because he still had loads
of presents to deliver around the world. "Tell you what
partner. Not only were you good this year, but you were a
true blue cowboy, inside and out. How about you untie me
and next year I'll give you a special gift."
"Really?" Johnny asked, excited.
"You have my word," Santa promised. "But there's a catch.
If you tell anyone about this, it will be the last gift I
ever give you."
"You're going to give me a horse, right?" Johnny asked
eagerly.
"Whoa, ho ho!" Santa said. "You've got to trust the giver
or what kind of gift would it be? A gift that is demanded
isn't much of a gift at all."
Johnny had to think about that for a moment. "Well, okay,
then. Do you promise?"
"Promise. But you have to make me a promise too."
Johnny leaned in closer to Santa. "What?"
"You must promise you'll never tell anyone that you tied
me up like this," Santa's whisper was softer. "I can't
have children actually thinking that they can catch me,
now can I?"
Johnny thought hard. "Never is a really long time."
"Ok," Santa chuckled. "How about 50 years then?"
"Okay. Cowboy's honor," Johnny promised.
Santa winked, then glanced at the rope.
Johnny started to untie Santa, but suddenly pulled one
side of the rope a bit too fast.
Santa spun like an oversized Christmas top! He zipped
round and round, bounced against the wall, and almost
knocked the tree over!
As his spinning slowed to a wobble, Santa gained control
of his senses. "Whoa ho ho!" Santa said again. "How about
I trade you two presents for that rope?" said Santa.
"No way, pardner." Johnny smiled.
Santa grinned and went straight to his work, quickly
taking out presents for Johnny, his brother, his mom and
pop. Then he headed for the chimney. "Keep your promise,
Johnny. And be asleep next Christmas or the deal's off,
and I'll be ready." Santa's voice meant business. "Merry
Christmas, pardner."
Santa snapped his fingers and was gone.
Johnny grabbed his rope and wondered if he should have let
him go. He decided to trust Santa. He kept his part of the
deal. Every day he tried his best to be good. And every
week he counted down the days until Christmas with so much
anticipation that he felt like he was going to burst from
the excitement. Even harder was not giving in to the
temptation to tell someone that he had caught Santa Claus.
And he never told a soul about what had happened. Finally,
it was Christmas Eve. Johnny ran 200 laps around his
apartment to help make sure he'd be asleep at night when
Santa arrived. And sleep soundly he did—he was so
exhausted it was as if he had worked a long hard day on
the ranch. Suddenly, he woke up. "Yes! Christmas is here!"
he said to himself. He ran into the living room. His heart
raced, expecting to see a horse. But it wasn't there.
Where in tarnation was it? he wondered. A tear welled up
in his eye. He began to think of a new way to catch Santa
Claus the following year. Just then, he saw a red envelope
with his name on it.
Johnny opened it. His fingers dipped inside and brought
out two tickets. "The Rowdy Ranger Dude Ranch in Arizona?"
he read. Johnny's smile grew wider. Inside there was also
a silver sheriff's badge and a letter. It read:
Dear Little Cowboy:
I'm glad you kept your promise and were asleep tonight.
Promises are very important. I trust you will always keep
yours. Please keep this silver sheriff's star as a
reminder of the Christmas star and the Heavenly Promise
that was kept on that first Christmas night. And have fun
with your pa at the Rowdy Ranger ranch, where another
surprise awaits you!
Love,
The Head Honcho of the North Pole,
Santa.
P.S.
50 years goes by fast. Trust me.
Later that week, Johnny and his dad bolted away like two
colts to the dude ranch in Arizona. When he got there
Johnny discovered that a secret someone had arranged for a
riding lesson on a special white horse named Wild Fire—the
roughest horse the wild west had ever seen.
I reckon that's Santa's payback for me having been naughty
and roping him like I did, Johnny thought as he heard
about Wild Fire's temper.
"You sure you want to ride this horse?" asked Cowboy Bill,
the owner of the ranch. His skin was as rough as leather.
"Yep," replied Johnny. This one's for me. I like this
horse."
Wild Fire turned his head to look at Johnny.
Johnny placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the
white stallion. He took the reigns. Suddenly, Wild Fire
bucked and bronced. "Whoa! I'm your new friend!" shouted
Johnny. "I know you won't hurt me." Wild Fire abruptly
stopped. Johnny patted his neck. "That's a good boy."
Johnny rode Wild Fire around the corral. He finished his
ride, jumped off the horse and winked at his dad. Wild
Fire nudged Johnny with his head playfully sealing their
new friendship.
Beaming with joy, Johnny picked up his rope, twirled it
around his head and happily roped a nearby lizard. He did
other roping tricks too for all the cowboys. Their eyes
bulged in amazement.
"Yee HA! That little dude is a natural!" shouted Cowboy
Bill.
That week Johnny became the youngest professional rodeo
roper ever to have swung a lasso!
Johnny won trophies and awards. For years, he appeared in
the Rodeo Extravaganza on national TV. Fans, old and young
alike, marveled at the tricks he could do with a rope.
Every year his act got better. Johnny wore his silver star
on his vest for every show. At Christmastime, he hung it
on the family Christmas tree. And in the spirit of the
cowboy way, he always kept his promises.
Last year, Johnny, now known as Rowdy Ropin' John, the
Lassoing Ranger, celebrated his 50th anniversary of
catching Santa. He thought about not telling anyone, but
on Christmas Day the secret shot out of his mouth faster
than a mustang with his tail on fire. The first person he
told was his wife, who didn't believe a word. The second
person he told was the publisher at the company that made
this book, who did believe him.
All good Christmas stories require belief after all. And
if you have any doubts, just check out the small marking
on the back of Johnny's sheriff's badge: "Made in the
North Pole."
THE END
Special surprise letter for the back of the book:
At Santa's workshop, tucked inside a desk drawer, lays
this 52-year-old letter:
MARY ELLEN ROGERS
NEW YORK, NY
Dear Santa:
This year, I know my son Johnny wrote to you asking for a
horse. He keeps asking us for one too. As you know, we
live in New York City and can't afford a horse or even to
take care of one. I'd much rather that my son discovers
what his true talent is. After all, it's our experiences
in life that make it joyful not what we own. I know you
understand that. Anything you can do to help would surely
be appreciated.
Love,
Mary Ellen Rogers, Johnny's mom
