Santa in a Stetson

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Jo grabbed the package and held it in her arms as Russ turned and started up the walk.

  The closer they got to the front door, the louder the screaming. The pain-filled sound battered Jo’s eardrums and made her wish they could turn around and drive away. The night had been filled with sweetness and laughter and joy, but that was obviously about to change.

  “Put me down after we get up on the porch,” Jo said. “They don’t need to open the door and think they have another problem on their hands.”

  “I guess you’re right. Just don’t put your whole weight on that ankle. Lean on me as much as you have to.”

  “I’ll be glad to, cowboy.”

  Russ walked up the wheelchair ramp instead of taking the steps, and then he set her gently down on the welcome mat. As she straightened her coat and fluffed the bow on the package, he rang the bell. He rang several times, and finally resorted to pounding on the storm door.

  At last a girl about seven opened the door and stared up at them. She had on a flowered nightgown and bunny slippers, and her blond hair was tousled as if she’d recently been asleep. After looking at them in amazement, she turned and ran back into the living room. Shortly after that, a blond man in a wheelchair approached the door. His face was as white as the snow piled in a corner of the front porch. Jo figured he had to be Dave Dutton. When he saw Russ, he directed the little girl to open the door.

  Once the door was open, the screaming became deafening.

  “What’s happened?” Russ asked, bending so that he could speak directly in Dave’s ear.

  Jo leaned toward them to hear the explanation.

  “Marcy was sneakin’ down to see if Santa had come, and she fell down the stairs in the dark,” Dave said, his voice shaking. “I think her arm is broke.”

  “Has it been stabilized?” Jo asked.

  “Yeah. Fran’s had plenty of first aid,” Dave said. “She took her in the kitchen, and I decided Kathy and I should just get out of her way. I think she’s planning to drive Marcy to the emergency room, but she wasn’t sure how to do that because the kid’s hysterical, and I—” He gestured to his wheelchair. “I’m no help,” he said, looking completely miserable. “We’ve been saving to get a modified car I can drive, but all we got now is my old truck, and Fran hates driving that thing, especially at night, and with the snow and all. It’s got a balky clutch.”

  Jo’s first thought, that she could take Fran and Marcy to the emergency room, died when she heard about the clutch. With her burn ankle, she wouldn’t be safe driving a truck that was difficult even with two good ankles.

  “I’ll drive it,” Russ said.

  Dave looked at him. “But you don’t drive.”

  Russ held his gaze, his expression grim. “Looks like I will tonight, buddy.”

  13

  JO STOOD wondering what she could do to help as Russ headed toward the back of the house and the screaming child. The three of them left in the living room seemed to be held hostage by that terror-filled sound. Then gradually it grew a little less forceful, and finally settled down to soft whimpering. Jo shouldn’t have been surprised. Russ had a way with frightened young creatures.

  She let out a slow breath and glanced at Dave. The tightness around his eyes seemed to have relaxed.

  “I’m Jo Cassidy,” she said. “Russ didn’t have time to introduce us.”

  Dave rolled his wheelchair toward her and held out his hand. “Dave Dutton. I don’t know how you two happened to arrive in the middle of the night, but the angels must have sent you. Please, sit down. You must think we don’t have any manners around here.”

  Jo eased down on the couch and unbuttoned her coat. “You’re not supposed to worry about manners in a crisis.”

  The little girl who had let them in came over to stand in front of Jo. “Is tha present for us?” she asked.

  “Kathy, that’s not polite,” Dave said.

  “Yes, it is for your family,” Jo said, glancing down at the package in her arms. She’d forgotten she was holding it.

  “Is it from Santa? Because there’s a sleigh outside. I saw it when I opened the door.”

  Jo wasn’t sure how to answer. “In a way it’s from Santa,” she said.

  “In what way?”

  “Katherine Marie,” her father said, giving her a warning glance.

  “Well, Daddy, I just want to know if it is or isn’t. Because this kid at school said there wasn’t any such thing as Santa. But I know you and Mommy didn’t buy this present, so if it’s really from Santa, then I can tell that kid to go jump in the lake.”

  Jo chuckled. What fun it would be to have a bright little girl of her own someday. “Then tell him to go jump in the lake, because this package is most definitely from Santa.”

  “Oh, good.” She tilted her head to gaze at Jo. “How did you know it was a boy who told me there wasn’t a Santa? I just said it was some kid.”

  “Was it a boy?”

  “Yes. Kenny Longtree.”

  “Well, there you go. A boy told me the same thing once. You have to be careful about believing those boys.”

  Dave smiled, and it transformed his face from haggard to handsome. “I’ve been telling her the same thing,” he said. “You can’t trust those boys. Especially cowboys.”

  In the brilliance of his smile, Jo could see the dashing young man Dave must have been before the accident.

  “Why’s there a scarf wrapped around your leg?” Kathy asked. “It looks funny.”

  “I slipped on a patch of ice tonight and Russ made me an ice pack.” Jo hoped that Dave would think the flush in her cheeks was from the cold. Thinking about the ice pack on her ankle reminded her of what had happened after that, and the memory made her tingle all over.

  “We’ve got one of those gel things in the refrigerator,” Dave said. “Once they leave for the hospital, we can get that and put it on your ankle.”

  “I’m fine,” Jo said. It wasn’t quite true. The ice pack had turned to water and her ankle was beginning to bother her again.

  “We’ll take a look, anyway. It’s the least we can do,” Dave said. “I—” He stopped speaking as a plump brunette came into the living room and his attention snapped immediately to her. “Where’s Marcy?” he asked, his voice strained.

  “Russ has her. It’s amazing how he’s settled her down. We’re leaving for the hospital now. I just wanted to tell you.” She glanced at Jo.

  “Fran, this is Jo Cassidy,” Dave said. “She arrived with Russ.”

  “Sorry to ruin your Christmas Eve like this,” Fran said.

  “Don’t worry about—”

  “Can I go to the hospital, Mommy?” Kathy interrupted, running over to her mother.

  “No, honey,” Fran said, giving her a hug. “You stay here with Daddy.”

  “Have you got the checkbook?” Dave asked.

  “Yes, but we don’t have much in—”

  “Weil, write one anyway. The banks won’t be open until the twenty-sixth. We’ll figure out a way to cover it.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” She came over and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be back soon. Be a good girl, Kathy.”

  “I’m always good,” Kathy muttered.

  Fran gave Jo another brief glance. “Nice to meet you. I wish it could have been under different circumstances.” She gave Kathy another hug. “I’d better go.”

  “Good luck,” Jo called after her, her heart aching for the little family. A hurt child and no money. Obviously, their insurance, if they even had any, wouldn’t take care of this visit. She thought of Russ, driving for the first time in years, in a strange vehicle on icy roads. The sudden clutching at her heart finally made her admit how much he meant to her. She sent up a silent prayer that he would return safe and sound.

  “Can we open the present now?” Kathy asked, returning to Jo’s side.

  “We’re going to wait for Marcy and Mommy,” Dave said. “They’ll need a little Christmas when they get home, I expect.”

  H
e looked at Jo. “Let’s see what we can do about that ankle. And something hot to drink. Coffee? In fact, I think there’s a plate of Christmas cookies in the kitchen, right, Kathy?”

  “Yeah!” Kathy said. “I helped make ’em, too. I know what, Daddy, let’s pretend we’re having a party. We could get out the cards and play Go Fish, and eat Christmas cookies, and play Christmas music on the stereo.”

  Trust a kid to organize the fun, Jo thought. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “I’ll get the cards! They’re upstairs!”

  “Be careful on those stairs,” Dave said, a note of fear in his voice.

  “Okay.” Kathy bounded up with no hesitation.

  Dave shook his head. “She didn’t even hear me.”

  “They never think something will happen to them.”

  “I didn’t used to worry about it so much, either, until last year.” He sighed and looked down at the wheelchair. “Now I see disaster around every corner.”

  Suddenly being handicapped would be tough on anyone, but for an active rodeo cowboy, it might be worse, she thought “You’re probably entitled to a little paranoia. You got dealt a bad hand.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a hell of a way to live. I spend most of my time now worrying about what could happen to the girls or Fran, and trying to think of ways to keep them safe. Then something like this happens anyway. I hate running scared. I’ve never been that way, and I don’t like seeing it in myself.”

  Jo couldn’t help thinking about Russ, who seemed to have a similar problem, although he had no obvious handicap like Dave’s. Dave’s sense of security had been destroyed by a stampeding bull, but she had yet to find out what had turned Russ’s world upside down. “Do you know why Russ doesn’t drive?”

  “No,” Dave said. “I figured he had to know how, because what guy grows up without learning these days? But when Steve takes him out on their horseshoeing jobs, Steve drives. When they go into town for a beer, Steve drives. Then when Russ heads back to Tucson to work at that dude ranch, he takes the bus. I asked Steve about it once, but he just changed the subject. When Russ showed up tonight, the first thing I thought was, great. I need somebody to handle the big old truck, and the good Lord sent me a guy who won’t drive. But I guess Russ changed his mind about that.”

  “I guess he did.” Jo wondered how much that decision was costing him right now.

  ADRENALINE GOT Russ through the first half of the trip. Marcy wasn’t screaming the way she had been, but she was crying softly, especially when the truck jostled her even a little bit.

  Russ clenched his jaw and concentrated on making the drive as smooth as possible for the little girl who was probably dealing with the worst pain in her life.

  But then the crisis was over and they had to come home. The break had been a simple one, and between the cast and a shot for pain, Marcy was doing fine.

  Russ was not

  Too much was familiar about the scene. Here he was on Christmas Eve, driving down a snowy road with pine trees all around and a woman in the seat next to him. True, the vehicle was a clunky old pickup instead of a red Firebird, and there hadn’t been a four-year-old involved on that night three years ago. But that didn’t stop him from sweating so bad his hands were slick on the steering wheel.

  In his mind, every dark patch in the road became a patch of black ice, and he could feel all over again the loss of control when they’d gone into the skid. His heart raced with every slip of the tire tread, and he kept hearing Sarah’s scream as they’d flipped. It was the last sound he ever heard from the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d intended to marry, the woman who was supposed to be the mother of his children.

  Get over it, he told himself now, but the images wouldn’t go away. His chest grew tight as he struggled to breathe. The road was deserted, as it had been on that horrible Christmas Eve, and the truck’s headlights glittered on a path that looked as if it was paved with broken glass. There had been a lot of broken glass that night And the blood. Oh, God, the blood.... Russ began to shake so badly he couldn’t hold on to the wheel.

  Afraid he’d wreck them yet, he slowly brought the truck over to the side of the road and managed to put on the brakes without sending them into a skid. Then he rested his head on the steering wheel and gulped in air as waves of nausea washed over him.

  “Russ?” Fran sounded terrified.

  “Sorry...I’ll be...okay...”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Russ, you’re sweating like you’ve been riding bulls. What is it?”

  If he tried to explain, he might break down completely. He forced himself to take deep breaths. “I hate seeing...someone hurt.” Well, that much was true. He hated seeing them dead even more.

  “Bless your heart. You’re having a delayed reaction to Marcy’s accident, aren’t you?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Do you want me to drive? Marcy’s almost asleep. You could hold her and I’ll—”

  “Nope.” He filled his lungs again and lifted his head from the steering wheel. Then he tugged down the brim of his Stetson and faced the road—the devil that had almost beat him. He’d never realized what a damn coward he’d been, refusing to drive after that night He might be a sinner, but he was no coward. “I’ll get us home.”

  “I know some people react like you’re doing,” Fran said. “They get through a crisis just fine and fall apart afterward. Me, I just panic from the beginning.”

  “You did fine.” He eased the truck back onto the slick road. His heart still beat fast, but the dizziness was gone. “Keep talking to me, Fran. It helps.”

  “Don’t be ashamed of having a tender heart, Russ. You were wonderful with Marcy when you got to our house. I was as scared as she was, which wasn’t helping.”

  “It’s probably hard not to be scared when it’s your kid.”

  “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll still have that calm attitude even with your own kids, Russ.” She chuckled. “And your wife can pick up the pieces after it’s all over and you collapse.”

  A picture of Jo flashed through his mind. “I don’t reckon that’s very likely.”

  “What’s not likely?”

  “A wife and kids. I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “So you’ve said, but I find that hard to believe, Russ. From what I’ve seen, you’d make a wonderful father, and I suspect you’d be a darned good husband, too.”

  Although the conversation was helping him conquer his fear, he decided a different topic was in order. “How’s work?”

  “Frustrating. I’ve put in for a promotion, and I was hoping to get it before Christmas, but no such luck. We could really use the extra money, especially to get a car that’s modified so Dave can drive it. He needs that, needs to get back to a more normal life. He’s getting stir-crazy being so dependent on me.”

  Russ thought of how he’d hemmed himself in, not driving, and he understood the problem. “Fran, I’ve got some money put by, and I can’t think what I’m ever goin’ to do with it. I could—”

  “Nothing doing.”

  “We could make it a loan, then.”

  “Russ, I didn’t bring up the subject of my promotion just to make you feel sorry for us.”

  “I don’t.” Russ was surprised to realize that was true. Fran and Dave had each other and two wonderful children. “In fact, I’m kinda jealous of you, to tell the truth.”

  “Jealous?” Fran laughed softly. “That’s rich.”

  “You may not have money, and Dave’s in that chair, but you have a lot goin’ for you.”

  Fran gazed at him for a long moment. “You know, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. I was forgetting that, and I appreciate the reminder. I haven’t counted my blessings recently, and it’s time I did.”

  “So you’ll let me loan you the money?”

  She laughed again. “What’s that got to do with anything?” .

  “I’ve learned something tonight, delivering the gifts for Steve.”

  “I
figured out that’s what you were doing.”

  “Yeah, he and Claire took sick, so they asked me to help. And I found out why they’ve kept this up through the years. Passin’ out these presents really makes a person feel...good.”

  “So loaning us the money would really be a favor to you?” Fran said softly, a smile in her voice.

  “That’s right. I don’t take any pleasure gettin’ my bank statement, but I sure would get pleasure thinkin’ of Dave driving himself around, and knowin’ I helped make that possible.”

  “Well, thank you, Santa. What a wonderful Christmas present. And look at that. You also got us home safe and sound.”

  Russ was startled to see that they were on the Duttons’ street, heading for the driveway of the two-story house. Concentrating on Fran and her problems had pulled him through. It was something to keep in mind. “Can you get in the house okay without me?” he asked.

  “Sure I can. But you should at least come in for a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, I will, but I need to go see how Blackie’s doing. He’s been standin’ in the cold for quite a while.”

  “See what I mean about you? That’s the kind of thoughtful person who would make somebody a fantastic husband.”

  “Or a good zookeeper,” Russ said with a grin.

  Fran laughed. “Sometimes it amounts to the same thing, cowboy.”

  WHEN THE BEAM of headlights shone briefly through the living-room window as the truck swung into the driveway, Jo closed her eyes and muttered a little prayer of gratitude. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been, waiting for his return, but now she was giddy with relief. One look at Dave’s face told her he was experiencing the same emotions.

  “Well, do you or don’t you?” Kathy demanded.

  “Do I or don’t I what?” Jo had completely lost track of what was going on.

  “Have any sevens? I asked you twice.” Kathy whooped with joy when Jo handed over her sevens. “I win! I win!”

  “Time to quit, honey,” Dave said. “Mommy’s home.”

  “Finally.” Kathy jumped up. “I’m going to see if Marcy has a cast on her arm.”