White Christmas in Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  There was a black lace inset in the back of the robe and the sleeves were gathered into a bell shape of some kind. Black velvet piping was sewn onto the collar.

  “I think it’s a woman’s robe,” Renee said cautiously. “It might be easier to find a guy to play the part if he doesn’t have to wear this.”

  “Well, we can’t have the king up on stage in his overalls,” Mrs. Hargrove said firmly. “There’s no reason this couldn’t be a king’s robe anyway. Nobility liked fancy clothes like that two thousand years ago. Remember, men were the first ones to wear high heels.”

  “I suppose,” Renee agreed reluctantly. Besides, since they weren’t getting any males willing to play the part, King Herod would likely end up being played by a tall woman anyway. There must have been a Queen Herod. Renee finished emptying the bag of robes before she realized that Rusty was nowhere to be seen. She had left him standing by the doorway, beside the row of hooks that had been added for coats. She supposed he had gone looking for his brother.

  “What about this green robe?” Mrs. Hargrove fingered one of the donations. “Do you think it would work for Joseph?”

  The robe had no decorations and the color was as close to brown as it was to green. It looked like that army color, in fact.

  “Why, yes, I do believe it would be perfect,” Renee said. Even a teenager like Eric Calhoun could not object to that costume.

  By that time, the older woman was looking at yet another robe and Renee forgot about everything else.

  * * *

  Rusty had recognized Mrs. Hargrove the minute he stepped into the barn, even with all of the shadows. He hadn’t wanted her to see him, though.

  He remembered the woman well. She’d invited him and his brother to Sunday school several times, but his father hadn’t thought it was important and they hadn’t gone. He’d watched her from a distance back in those days and wondered what it would be like to have a mother like her. But he hadn’t known her, not really.

  He’d been flat-out surprised when he got a card from her a few months after he joined the army. She had written a few things about Dry Creek, mostly how the crops were doing and how winter was expected early that year, and he thought that would be the end of it.

  But it wasn’t. She’d sent him dozens of cards and letters in the past eight years. Square blue envelopes. Long yellow ones. Even a box of homemade fudge one Christmas. She told him about the new gas station in town and what Pastor Curtis was preaching. She filled him in on her marriage to her old friend Charlie and listed all the babies who were born. The cards and letters were all different, but each was signed “Praying for you, Edith Hargrove.”

  Except for postcards from Eric now and then, they were the only mail he received. Rusty kept them through the years, gathered together with a thick rubber band in his duffel. He never answered the letters, though. It was as if he was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. A woman like her didn’t need the details of the misery he went through on patrols, and he had nothing else to talk about. With each letter he received, he expected it to be the last. But it never was.

  And now here she was, looking just the same as he remembered her, with her gray hair tucked back in those tight permanent waves and her green-and-white-checked housedress hanging loose under her gray wool sweater. If he remembered right, the kids said she always had some kind of wrapped candy in her pocket for any child who wanted a piece. He’d never had the nerve to ask for one the few times he was around her.

  He was glad she hadn’t seen him come in behind Renee. He had turned in the opposite direction and walked. He still didn’t know what to say to someone like her. The only mother he’d known had been his own and she’d never seemed to notice him much. He didn’t expect someone else’s mother to take to him. Not that he needed a mother anyway.

  Still, he hadn’t been in this old barn for years and he enjoyed the chance to see it. The air smelled the same, of the mustiness that came from decades of stored alfalfa hay. The main walls were as tall as he remembered—he’d guess twenty feet high in all. Thankfully, no one had ever painted the inside of the barn, although they had added sealant over the years, so the walls had a natural wood sheen. He noticed with approval that the small, high windows lining each side of the barn were sparkling clean. Someone was taking good care of this place.

  Rusty was walking by a piece of the nativity setting when he heard a whimper. He turned and frowned. The no-vacancy sign was hanging from a fake inn door and a false front was painted to look like beige stone. No one was behind the plywood, so he stood and listened.

  There he heard it again, deeper, from the corner of the barn. It sounded like a muffled sob. Suddenly, he heard several mocking voices that seemed to be coming from behind a set of portable bleachers. He carefully picked his way toward the noise.

  The children didn’t hear him as he looked around the edge of the bleachers. They were all in the shadows and no one was facing his direction. A blanket had been tacked over the barn window in this corner and the children seemed to be waiting there. Except they weren’t really waiting. At first, he wondered if they had a dice game going since they were all gathered in a circle and looking at something intently.

  The hay bales in the corner were spread around and several of the boys were sitting on them.

  Then he saw Tessie. She was sitting in the middle of the circle on the rough wood floor and the expression on her face made his heart clench. She was trying bravely not to cry, but her bottom lip was trembling. Her face was pink.

  “That’s what you know, Mikey Lane,” she finally said and pointed accusingly at one of the bigger boys. “He is so real.”

  The boy, who was standing before her, snorted in disgust. “You’re such a baby. Nobody believes in fairy tales.”

  Rusty must have moved then, because Tessie looked over Mikey’s head and saw him. Her face lit up as though she’d seen every one of her dreams come true. Then she scrambled to her feet and pointed again. Only this time it was at him.

  “There he is!” she declared victoriously. “The prince who has come to see me.”

  Rusty just stood there, feeling like a bug pinned to a specimen board. He was hoping no one would turn to look, but of course, they all did. He was glad he’d shaved this morning. He stood up straight, but there was no fooling the boys.

  Each one of them stared in disbelief. He glared back. It was obvious that no one but little Tessie thought he was a prince, but he didn’t like the boys making fun of her. Faith should be rewarded even if it was misplaced.

  “You’re not a prince,” Mikey, obviously the leader of this little band of troublemakers, said with enough disgust in his voice to make Rusty arch his eyebrow.

  “He is so.” Tessie stood and then did the most remarkable thing. She ran toward him as fast as she could. She was fleeing her enemies, with her white angel robe flapping and her wings wobbling behind her.

  When she reached Rusty, she held out her arms.

  “Up,” she commanded.

  Rusty closed his eyes and wondered if Renee would ever forgive him.

  If he hadn’t seen the tears in Tessie’s eyes, he might have had the courage to remain still. But he could see that while she might be angry with those boys, she was scared, too.

  He had no choice but to bend down. He grimaced as he put his good arm around her, but he lifted her anyway. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he thought as her wings fluttered when he drew her close. She didn’t disturb his sling, but he could feel the weight of her, especially with those wings moving around.

  The pain wasn’t anything bad, but Tessie opened her eyes and put her hand up to his face. She looked worried about him. Just the way her mother always seemed to be.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly and she settled against the left side of his chest, leaving his sling untouched.

 
After she drew a few ragged breaths, he felt her relax in his arms. He’d never had a child snuggle into him before and he found it rather alarming. He wasn’t sure he knew what to do with the trust of someone like Tessie. He left that to men who’d known a regular family life. Just thinking about it almost made him forget to keep an eye on the boys.

  He looked up to see the troublemakers still gawking at Tessie, disgust on their faces, so he did the only thing he could: he scowled and gave them his mean look. The one that had made green recruits tremble in their boots and wish they were home with their mothers. Then he added a snarl because boys that age needed something extra to understand the message.

  He was rewarded with faces of astonishment. One of the youngest boys turned as if he might run for the door, but they all looked respectful. Rusty decided his work was done, but then he realized something. That look of awe was going on for too long and no one had fled the area.

  “He’s the one,” Mikey finally announced as he lifted one arm to give a victory salute. Then he turned to the other boys. “Did you see that face? Oh, yeah, he’s the one.”

  “Who’s going to tell Mrs. Hargrove?” one of the other boys asked, already fidgeting in his eagerness to be off.

  That was all it took. They ran away as fast as they could.

  Rusty just watched them go.

  He’d certainly slain Tessie’s dragons just the way a good prince should. But he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He almost felt as if he should take on defending Tessie on a regular basis, and that would never do. Especially not when Renee had told him to break the little girl’s heart. He wasn’t meant to be the hero in her story.

  But the least he could do was carry the girl away with dignity, he told himself. Her mother would know what to do with Tessie next.

  Once he stepped around the bleachers, he saw Renee on the other side of the barn standing by some hay bales with Mrs. Hargrove. A dozen robes lay over the top of those bales, but the women weren’t even looking at them. They were intent on the boys who were standing in front of them and gesturing all over the place.

  Rusty figured that he could just drop Tessie off near her mother and sneak out of the barn in all the commotion.

  He didn’t even get close before he saw it wasn’t going to happen.

  Mikey was already pointing at him. By now, he assumed the boys had told Mrs. Hargrove how mean he’d been to them. He’d forgotten how boys could be. But it was probably for the best. He wouldn’t have to worry about Tessie wanting him to stay and be her prince once she heard the tales that were sure to come.

  Rusty kept walking. His exit might not be so quiet, but it would be quick.

  He was surprised when Mrs. Hargrove started walking toward him. “Rusty Calhoun, is that you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He acknowledged his name, although he wasn’t sure why she would recognize him after all this time. He’d been a skinny kid when he left Dry Creek. He was considerably taller now. And he liked to think he was better-looking if for no other reason than that the military had taught him not to slouch.

  The boys didn’t hold back. He saw them following along behind the older woman as though they didn’t want to miss any part of this show.

  Rusty sent an imploring look to Renee. She was standing in a stream of sunlight coming through a back window that made her brown hair look as if it had been spun with a bit of gold. They’d almost been in an accident together. He just knew she was going to stand up for him—and then she shrugged.

  Mrs. Hargrove stopped and looked at him for a minute.

  He’d been wrong about her, too, he decided when she was close. She had changed since he’d seen her last: wrinkles crisscrossed her face where there had been none before. Her eyes looked tired. He really should have answered her letters, he told himself.

  Then she opened her arms to him.

  He didn’t even think as he slid Tessie down to the floor and gathered the older woman in a one-armed embrace.

  “You came back to us,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she hugged him tight. “Praise God.” She pulled back then. “Let me look at you.”

  Rusty grinned. He had come home and he hadn’t known it until that very moment.

  “My prayers have been answered,” Mrs. Hargrove said, her face beaming.

  Rusty heard one of the boys clear his throat. Then another one did. Finally Mrs. Hargrove looked down at the fidgeting boys.

  “That’s what we were trying to tell you,” Mikey announced. “Your prayers have been answered. We found you King Herod.”

  Mikey took a deep breath and made a dramatic gesture with his arm. “Him.”

  Mrs. Hargrove looked as stunned by the proclamation as Rusty felt. He glanced over at Renee again—she seemed speechless.

  “You won’t have to worry about getting him to make a mean face,” Mikey said confidently. “He does a real good one. Sound effects and everything.”

  “I couldn’t possibly—” Rusty said as he took a step backward.

  “Why not?” Mrs. Hargrove pinned Rusty with a hopeful glance. “You’re the one person in Dry Creek who has never played a part in the pageant. It’s time we fixed that.”

  “I’m not much for pageants,” Rusty said, taking another step backward.

  “Renee can help you learn your lines,” Mrs. Hargrove said.

  Now Renee took some action. “He can’t be in the pageant!” she protested vigorously. She shook her head as though searching for something more to say. Finally, she stammered, “He is wounded.”

  That didn’t seem to get a response so she added, “And he could be a criminal.”

  Rusty hated to be rescued with those words, but he decided he wouldn’t defend himself. It was better to have people cross the street when they saw him than it would be to appear in the pageant.

  But Mrs. Hargrove only nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, I’m sure he hasn’t broken any laws. And if he looks a little dangerous, that makes him a good King Herod, who was an old crook if there ever was one.”

  With that, Tessie spoke. She was short and her voice was low, but everyone heard her. “He’s a prince, so he can play the king real good.”

  Mrs. Hargrove beamed.

  Renee scowled.

  And Rusty squatted down to speak with the girl. “Sometimes things are make-believe—”

  That was as far as he got before Mrs. Hargrove cleared her throat.

  Rusty looked up and saw Sheriff Wall standing not three feet away. Maybe it was because he was down on Tessie’s level, but the sheriff looked particularly stern and foreboding.

  Rusty rose to his feet.

  The sheriff pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his coat and unzipped it.

  “Ever see this before?” he asked as he held out Eric’s old brown cap.

  Rusty resisted the urge to look around. He hadn’t seen his brother as he walked around the barn. He surely couldn’t be here.

  “I don’t know,” Rusty said truthfully enough. It might or might not be the cap he’d seen last night.

  “I found it in that ravine you mentioned,” the sheriff said then. “Looks like one of those caps your brother always wears.”

  “I haven’t been around this area for eight years,” Rusty reminded the sheriff.

  Sheriff Wall measured him. “That’s so. Makes me wonder what you’re doing back here now.”

  Rusty bit back a reply.

  “Why, God brought him here to play King Herod,” Mrs. Hargrove said in a voice that was mixed with steel and kindness. She stepped forward and put her hand on Rusty’s left arm. “And we’re very glad to have him.”

  That set the sheriff back. He turned to Rusty. “You’re playing the king?”

  Rusty nodded reluctantly.

  “Well, then,” the sheriff said as he put the cap back in the
bag, “I’ll leave you all to what you’re doing. I’ll have the whole church mad at me if I chase off a king now that we found one.”

  The lawman put the bag back inside his jacket as he checked everyone out. If the moment hadn’t been so silent, Rusty would have remarked that the sheriff had a downright mean look, too, and could play King Herod as well as anyone else.

  “Tell Eric I’d like to talk to him,” Sheriff Wall finally said to Rusty as he turned to leave. “Since I can’t believe he’d take a shot at his own brother, he might want to take a look at the kind of company he is keeping.”

  Rusty was of the same opinion, so he gave the sheriff an agreeable nod.

  The sheriff looked around again, this time peering into the corners of the barn. “Shouldn’t the boy be here? I heard he’s Joseph in this pageant.”

  “Mary’s not here, either,” Mrs. Hargrove offered, and then she turned to Renee. “Karyn’s not taking the noon shift for you at the bunkhouse, is she?”

  Renee shook her head. “I left a pot roast cooking for the men. The table’s all set and a salad tucked in the refrigerator. She should be here practicing.”

  Sheriff Wall looked thoughtful. “The two of them kids might still be out at the Elkton ranch. Not many places to wander to on a cold day like this.” He turned to Renee. “Mind if I drive out and check?”

  “Not at all,” Renee said with a smile. “If you follow us out, we’ll all be in time for pot roast. I might even pull one of those cherry pies that you like so much out of the freezer.”

  Rusty didn’t see why she needed to make it so inviting. He would rather have a chance to sit down with his brother and talk privately before the law got involved. Of course, he could hardly say anything without making the sheriff more determined to go with them.

  “Now, that’d be nice,” Sheriff Wall said.

  “You don’t mind if Tessie and I take King Herod and leave?” Renee asked Mrs. Hargrove.

  The older woman shook her head. “You go right ahead. That might be best. The rest of us will practice. We’ll fit King Herod with his costume at tomorrow’s practice. Only four more nights until the performance, you know. And there’s church tomorrow.” Mrs. Hargrove looked directly at Rusty. “I’m hoping we’ll see you in services tomorrow.”