“Who?”
“Smoky.” She imagined the pony coated with snow, shivering in the wind.
George got a thoughtful look, then nodded. “Yes. Smoky has a thick wooly coat. I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
Lucy hoped that George was right. She’d never worried about farm animals being out in the cold like that before, but she knew that she wouldn’t want to have to live outside when it was snowing and blowing like it was starting to do now. And even though Mama used most of the barn for her laundry business, there were still some nice warm stalls in the back. Surely it would be all right for a pony to use one of them . . . just to come in from the cold. Lucy would keep it nice and clean.
Lucy was pleased to wake up to a white, wintry world on Monday morning. It was only a few inches so far, but it was beautiful. Like a gigantic frosted cake.
“Sit still,” Mama said as Lucy kicked the heels of her boots against the kitchen stool. “Let me get this last braid finished.”
“I just can’t wait to go outside,” Lucy said happily. “I’m going to make a snow angel first thing. Then a snowman if the snow is sticky enough.”
“Just make sure you see to the chickens first. And bring in some more wood.”
“Yes, Mama.” Lucy pulled on her coat, searching her pockets for mittens. Before long she was bundled up and on her way outside with a bucket of chicken food. The air was crisp and cold, and the sound of snow crunching beneath her boots filled her with high hopes. She always felt excited over the first snow, and to have it before Christmas was a real treat.
“Good morning, Lucy.”
She jumped to see George coming around the corner of the barn. “What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Just taking a walk.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “I broke the ice in the chickens’ water trough. I hope that’s all right.”
“Sure.” She grinned. “Thanks. I’m just on my way to feed them now.”
He turned around and walked back with her. “I noticed an old Model T back behind the barn.”
“That was my daddy’s car.” Lucy opened the gate to the chicken yard and went inside. George hadn’t just broken the ice; he’d refilled the water and even cleaned the snow out of the food trough so it was all ready for her to dump the kitchen scraps. The hungry hens gathered around her feet as she spread the food out for them. “You girls need to start laying eggs again,” she told them.
“Why aren’t they laying eggs?” George held the gate open for her, then securely latched it closed after she came out.
Lucy explained about the winter solstice, and he rubbed his chin with a thoughtful expression. “So they need sunlight to lay eggs?”
“That’s what Grandma says. It always happens right around Christmastime.”
“What if we rigged up a light bulb inside their coop?”
“A light bulb?” She giggled as she tried to imagine a light bulb in the henhouse.
“You could turn it on just before the sun sets. Leave it on for an hour or so. Maybe the chickens would think it was still daytime and reward you with some eggs.”
“Do you really think that would work?”
“It might be worth a try.” He pointed to the barn. “I noticed there’s electricity running from the house to the barn.”
“Mama had the electric put in so she could do her laundry out there.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be hard to run a cord from the barn to the chicken coop and get a light set up. I could give it a try if you think it’s a good idea.”
She nodded eagerly. “It’s a swell idea.”
“Would your mother mind if I poked around to find what I need for the light?”
“I think Mama would be real happy if we started getting eggs again.”
“About that car,” he said as they walked back to the house. “Does it run at all?”
“No, it’s been broken down for a long, long time. Mr. Brewster offered to buy it once, but Mama said no. Now she’d gladly sell it, but he can’t afford to buy it anymore. And no one else wants a car that doesn’t run.” She stopped walking and set the chicken bucket down. “I’m glad because sometimes I like to sit in it and I pretend like I’m driving.” She flopped down on her back, and George’s eyes nearly popped out.
“What’s wrong?” He bent over and stared. “Are you okay?”
“I’m making a snow angel,” she explained as she flapped her arms and legs.
With a quizzical expression, he pulled out his pipe and watched her.
“See?” She stood, proudly pointing to the angelic image in the snow.
“Very nice.” He lit his pipe and smiled.
She went over to where the snow angel head was and drew in a halo. “There. Perfect.”
“Do you think your mother would mind if I took a look at the old car?” He let out a puff of sweet-smelling smoke. “My dad used to have a car almost exactly like it, and if I’m lucky, I might be able to get it running again.”
“Really?” She brushed the snow off her coat sleeves.
“It’s a possibility.”
“I sure wish it could run again.” She sighed. “I remember how I used to ride to town in it with my daddy . . . back when I was a little girl.”
His pipe slowly moved up and down like he was thinking hard.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell Mama about it, though.” She glanced over to the house. “Just so we don’t get her hopes up. You know, in case you can’t fix it.”
He removed his pipe, placing a forefinger over his lips. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
She nodded. “It’s a deal.”
As they were finishing lunch, George announced that he planned to walk to town to check on the progress of his car’s repairs. “Let me know if there’s anything I can bring home for anyone.”
“No, thank you,” Mama primly told him. “Lucy did the shopping for us on Saturday.”
“But you might let George drop off your laundry parcels,” Grandma suggested to Mama. “That would save you a—”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Mama said. “I don’t mind the walk.”
“I’d be pleased to deliver your parcels for you,” George told her.
“But I wouldn’t want to bother you with—”
“It’s no bother,” he assured her. “Just write down the addresses for me, and I’ll gladly drop them off. I plan to leave around two.”
Mama started to protest again, but this time Veronica interrupted. “Why don’t you just use the telephone, George?” she suggested. “Simply call the garage and check on your automobile. Save yourself a senseless walk.”
He shook his head. “I’d prefer to walk. I need the exercise.”
“Do you want any company?” Lucy offered hopefully.
“I need you to stay home and help Grandma and me,” Mama told her.
Lucy frowned but didn’t say anything.
“Maybe next time,” George said gently.
“Yes, maybe next time.” Mama’s voice was firm.
“You didn’t invite little old me to go to town with you, George,” Veronica said in a sugary voice.
George looked taken aback by this. “Well, I—I suppose I assumed you wouldn’t want to walk out in the snow.”
“You know me too well.” She made a pouting face. “You’re right about walking in the snow. I don’t have the right sort of shoes.”
“Mama could loan you her work boots,” Lucy suggested.
Mama looked as if she was about to choke, but Veronica just laughed. “Really, now, Lucy, can you imagine me in your mama’s work boots?”
“Of course not.” Mama began clearing the table. “What a ridiculous idea.”
“Well, I’m sure they’re just fine for you,” Veronica said apologetically. “You need sturdy boots to work on a farm.”
Mama excused herself. As she went through the swinging door, Lucy felt pretty sure she wouldn’t come back out again.
“I do wish there was some other way to get
to town,” Veronica said to George. “Do you suppose there’s a taxi that could come and fetch us?”
Grandma chuckled. “Not in Maple Grove.” She picked up the bread basket and butter dish and excused herself to the kitchen too.
“If I had a pony,” Lucy told Veronica, “I’d let you ride it to town.”
“Me on a pony?” Veronica giggled. “Now that would be a sight to see. I’ve never been on a horse in my entire life.”
“What if you needed to ride a horse to be in a movie?” Lucy asked.
“Well, then I wouldn’t be in that particular movie.” Veronica nudged George with her elbow. “I’ll bet you don’t know how to ride a horse either, do you?”
“Now there’s a bet you would surely lose,” he told her.
“Well.” She looked impressed. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Georgie Porgie?”
Lucy pressed her lips together as she remembered his ideas for fixing the old car. That would probably surprise Veronica too. Instead of saying anything about this, Lucy began to help clear her side of the table.
“She just gets to me,” Mama was quietly saying to Grandma as Lucy came in. But seeing Lucy, Mama stopped talking.
“Did I say something wrong, Mama?” Lucy set the dishes by the sink and peered up into Mama’s face.
“Oh, it was silly of you to think Veronica would wear my old boots . . . that’s all.”
“And to think she’d walk to town,” Grandma added with a half smile. “Well, that’s not very realistic.”
Lucy shrugged. “She might walk to town . . . if it wasn’t so cold and snowy out.” The dining room was empty when she went back to get the last of the dishes. She was just about to return to the kitchen when she overheard Veronica talking to George in the front room.
“Oh, come on, George,” Veronica was saying sweetly. “Just use the telephone to call and find out about your silly old car. That way you can stay here and keep me company. We can play games or listen to the radio or just visit.”
“I’m sorry. I already planned to go to town.”
“But it’s so quiet and lonely when you’re not in the house,” she protested.
“Like I said, you’re welcome to join me.”
“You know I don’t want to do that. Oh, Georgie Porgie, you’re just a big meanie,” she teased, “but I’ll come up with a way to get back at you. You know I will.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Will you bring me back something?” she pleaded in childlike voice. “A candy or some kind of special treat?”
“Sure. Tell me what you want and I’ll bring it back.”
Feeling guilty for eavesdropping and just a little bit jealous that George was going to bring Veronica a treat, Lucy made her way back into the kitchen. Mama had gone out to get the laundry parcels, and Grandma had already started on the dishes.
“Do you think Veronica and George are falling in love?” she asked Grandma as she set the cups and saucers on the counter.
“Falling in love?” Grandma peered curiously at Lucy. “What put that kind of an idea in your head?”
“Helen Krausner is always talking about falling in love,” Lucy confessed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen it happen. Not for real.”
“I suppose they could be falling in love.” Grandma squeezed soapy water out of the dishrag. “Although I think George is too sensible for that flibbertigibbet.”
“Flibbertigibbet?” Lucy was surprised.
Grandma chuckled. “I suppose that’s not very nice to say about our guest, Lucy. I hope I don’t hear you repeating it.”
“I’d never say that about Veronica,” Lucy assured her. “I like Veronica.” But even as she said this, Lucy wasn’t so sure. She didn’t think she liked Veronica quite as much as when she’d first met her. She wasn’t even sure why.
6
After helping in the kitchen, Lucy went to her room to work on this year’s Christmas presents. She’d started crocheting the potholders for Grandma in October. Made from various colors of yarn that she’d found in a box in the attic, their colorful stripes reminded her of rainbows. At first she thought she only had enough yarn for two potholders, but to her surprise there was enough for a third.
For Mama, she’d made a picture frame out of sticks and pinecones that she’d gathered out in the woods. Inside the frame was a pencil drawing that Lucy had made of a cactus wren. The small, spotted wren was the Arizona state bird, and Lucy had meticulously drawn it from a picture she’d found in a bird book at school. She’d also embroidered a white linen handkerchief with birds for Mama. One was a beautiful red cardinal and the other a bluebird. Mama loved birds of all kinds, and Lucy couldn’t wait to see her face when she opened these presents on Christmas morning.
But with George and Veronica staying with them, hopefully until Christmas, Lucy had decided to make some more Christmas presents as well. For Veronica, she was making a pincushion. Oh, she knew that Veronica probably didn’t know how to sew, but she had some beautiful brooches that she liked to wear, and Lucy thought perhaps she would use the pincushion for those.
For George she had started to make a pipe holder. Of course, she had no idea if he would have any use for such a thing or even if there was such a thing as a pipe holder, but it seemed like a good idea. She’d started with an old wooden cigar box she’d found in the attic. First she took it apart, and she was now trying to transform some of the pieces into a rack of sorts. Plus she’d found a picture of a handsome black racehorse in an old magazine and carefully cut it out and glued it to the back of the holder. Now she was gluing some sticks around the horse like a little frame, and really, it was becoming a rather handsome piece.
It was just getting dusky when Lucy remembered she hadn’t fed the chickens this afternoon. Pulling on her boots and coat, she grabbed the bucket by the back door and hurried outside. As far as she knew, George hadn’t returned from town yet. But when she reached the chicken coop, she was surprised to see that light was coming from the coop area. Filling the food trough, she heard the sound of crunching snow coming from around the backside of the barn. Worried it might be a wild animal, she lifted up the bucket, ready to throw it if needed. But to her relief it was only George.
“You scared me,” she said as she lowered the bucket.
“I’m sorry. But I thought I heard someone over here. What do you think of our light?”
“I think it’s great. I hope it works.”
“I figure we should only leave it on for an hour. So they can get used to it.”
“Do you think it’ll work?”
He tipped his head sideways. “I have no idea, but I guess we’ll find out. We just need to remember to come out here to turn it off after dinner. How about if I take care of that while I’m here? I’ll just say I’m going out to smoke my pipe.”
“Sounds good to me.” She looked toward where he’d come around from behind the barn. “What are you doing back there?”
He held up a wrench with a sheepish grin. “Working on your dad’s car.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Picked up a couple things at Hempley’s Garage and couldn’t wait to see if they worked.”
“Do they?”
“We’ll see.”
“You sound like Mama.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Speaking of Mama, I’d better get back inside and set the table.”
“Not yet.” He came over and opened the gate to the chicken yard, waiting for her to come out before he closed it. “I have something for you first.” He reached in his pocket now and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper.
“What?” she said eagerly.
“Just some peppermints.” He held up his forefinger. “But not until after dinner.”
“Thank you!” She stuck it in her coat pocket, then hurried back into the house to help with dinner. But Mama was already helping Grandma, and once the table was set, they didn’t need Luc
y anymore.
“Why don’t you go visit with Veronica?” Mama suggested. “She’s sitting by herself in the front room.”
“All that woman does is sleep and listen to the radio all day,” Grandma said quietly as Lucy was leaving.
“Hello, Veronica,” Lucy said pleasantly. She sniffed the air, noticing a strange smell. Kind of like the chicken scraps starting to go bad on a hot summer’s day.
“There you are, doll.” Veronica gave a pretty smile as she set a small bottle of red fingernail paint on the coffee table. Lucy hoped there were no drips on the bottle since Mama loved that table. “I was just wishing for something to amuse myself with.”
“Want to play checkers?” Lucy offered.
Veronica wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like board games. Besides, I just did my nails.”
“Oh.” Lucy sat down on the chair across from her.
“What I wouldn’t give for a ride to town to see a movie tonight.”
“That would be fun.” Lucy nodded.
“I am hopelessly bored.” Veronica blew across the tops of her blood red fingernails. “I cannot comprehend how on earth you country people manage to live like this. So isolated . . . and now all this horrid snow. I feel as if I’m trapped.” She sighed. “How I miss the city lights, the nightclubs, the glamour, the music.” She made a groaning sound. “I feel like I shall start climbing the walls.”
“Oh . . .” Lucy smiled to herself as she imagined Veronica in her elegant, pale blue dress climbing up the front room walls.
Veronica looked hopefully at Lucy now. “Listen, doll,” she began quietly. “Maybe you can help me.”
“Help you?”
Veronica leaned forward. “You’re on pretty good terms with old Georgie Porgie, aren’t you?”
Lucy wasn’t sure how to answer, so she shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Maybe you can do some sweet-talking for me.”
“Sweet-talking?”
“It sounds like Georgie’s car might be fixed by Wednesday.”
The Christmas Pony Page 5
