The reindeer came over to the gate to sniff at Gloria's blinking pin. “Help!” She stepped back.
Kincaid saw a bag of apples on a hook. He handed a piece of fruit to Gloria.
She backed up again. “You want me to feed him? He might bite.”
“Give him the apple, not your fingers, and you'll do fine.”
Gloria inched her hand with the apple toward the reindeer. He took it from her, then crunched it, saliva dribbling onto the straw.
“Nice job, Glo,” Kincaid said.
“I'll have to work on his manners.” She edged over to give Rudolph's forehead a quick pat. “He looks too small to pull a sleigh with two people.”
“Don't worry. He's built strong, sort of like a husky sled dog.”
Around the corner from Rudolph's pen they found what was left of the sleigh.
Kade said, “The runners need some oil and steel wool and elbow grease. But you guessed correctly, Glo. The seat fried. And there's not much left of one side of the sleigh.”
“But you can fix it, can't you? You're handy that way. Aren't you?”
One look at her earnest, pleading face made his heart feel funny. She cared about this darn old sleigh and her surprise for Dolly and John. She really needed Kincaid's help. “Of course I can fix it.” He kissed her, but he made sure it was the briefest of meetings of two pairs of lips.
“Why'd you do that?” she asked.
Oh, blast it all. “I kissed you because you looked cute feeding the reindeer.”
“That's nice of you to say that.”
“You were cute, I mean, you are cute.” There he was again, blithering away. He could say all the right things in Vegas, so why was it so hard finding the right things to say here in Moonstone? And to Gloria? “I'll get the tools. Maybe there's some scrap wood around. We'll shore up the sides, then find a crosspiece for under the seat that'll hold the cushion.”
“Sounds good.” She took off her coat and hung it on the hook with the apples.
She wore the pinafore apron again over a green sweater and black slacks. She was always in her uniform, at the ready for work. He wondered if she took vacations and if she wore that damn apron over her swim suit. Did she hide behind it in the shower, too? Now that mystery intrigued him.
By lunch time he had the wood patched on the sleigh. If he were going to catch up with Boze for a couple of runs on the local ski hill, he'd need to leave now.
He assumed Gloria had finished putting together the red velveteen cover for the seat cushion. But when he walked to the front of the barn, he found her sitting on a straw bale, her head cocked. Worried, he sat down beside her, wanting to put an arm around her but unsure of the rules. “Hey, Miss Muffet, what's the matter?”
“Do you hear that?”
Listening, all he detected was the faint shuffle of straw as one of the animals moved in its stall. The barn boards creaked from the wind outside. “I don't hear anything,” he said.
“That's what I hear, too. It's so quiet. You can hear yourself think. How often do we get that gift of quiet anymore? There's nothing here. No traffic. No airplanes. Nothing.”
He listened again. “It's like this on the ranch at home during a blizzard. There's a hush that comes over everything. It feels rude to talk. We used to go about our chores without a word. Even when we'd come into the house, we'd be quiet. Mom and Dad and my sisters and I would get a cup of cocoa and warm up in front of the fireplace. No TV on, no computers, nothing but our sighs and slurps.”
“That's nice. We never had a fireplace. But Mom and I would lay in her bed together and listen to the summer rain like that.” Gloria swiped at her eyes with her apron. “Life is always full of loud things now.”
“Yes, but people could stop and do this if they really wanted to.”
“We're lucky to be in this barn, with the snow outside.” Gloria sighed. “It was nice talking with you about my mother last night. I try not to talk about her all that much with my brother and sister.”
“You want to spare them any sadness.”
“Yeah.”
“You'll be seeing them soon and you'll feel better then.”
“I suppose. Just the holiday blues, I guess.”
Kincaid could hear the melancholy in her voice. He stepped over to the work bench. “Wow, look at that seat. That's beautiful.” The cheap, floral cushion had been transformed into a red velveteen pillow fit for two. He figured she'd embellished the cushiony part with a little straw stuffing.
“You think so?”
“I know so, Glo. It's amazing what you can do with a needle and thread. Let's see how it fits.”
Together, they secured the cushion in place. Then he picked up Gloria and plopped her into the sleigh's seat. “Wiggle your butt around. How does it feel?”
“I can't feel the board underneath, but then I have plenty of padding myself.”
“What you have is just right.”
“I wonder how it'll feel in use.”
“Let's find out now.”
“Now?”
“The harness was spared from the fire. I can figure that out. You said I was handy.”
Her face began to glow with a look of wonderment that he hadn't seen since Christmases long ago with his sisters. “What if something happens?”
He winked. “So what if something does happen? Are you up for an adventure or not?”
“Show me how to make that reindeer fly, cowboy.”
~—~—~—~ ~
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* * *
Chapter 6
In the corral behind the barn, he taught her how to use the reins to signal Rudolph. Then he opened the corral gate to the open field covered in white and hopped back into the sleigh. Snowflakes hit Gloria's rosy cheeks in a way that made his whole being pause.
She asked, “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
“No.”
Her throaty laugh set him to laughing, too. With the reins in her hands, Gloria signaled to Rudolph. He took off through the corral gate, then trotted across the long, flat, snowy field.
But Rudolph soon had a mind of his own. Tossing his head all around, the reindeer was delighted to run. Gloria squealed, which encouraged Rudolph to race even faster. The wind whipped her hair behind her. Kincaid had to hang onto his Stetson.
When they met a steep hill, Rudolph didn't even pause. Up the animal took them and the sleigh to the crest of the hill. But before they could stop, Rudolph raced nimbly toward a boulder that jutted like a ski jump over the valley.
Kincaid held tight to Gloria. “Hang on!”
Rudolph leaped off the boulder, dragging the sleigh into thin air.
“We're flying!” Gloria yelled.
Kincaid's stomach rose with the weightlessness of the moment.
Then the sleigh's runners crashed down crooked on the downhill slope. Kincaid and Gloria spilled into the snow. Rudolph kept on galloping, towing the empty sleigh behind him.
“You all right?” Kincaid asked, cleaning snow out of the back of his collar.
“I'm not sure.” Gloria sat up, spitting snow off her face. “Did we ruin the sleigh?”
After retrieving his Stetson next to him, Kincaid got up to look. Rudolph was trotting about down in the valley. “It looks intact, but now we have to hope Rudolph comes back with it.”
“Here, show him this. He liked it before.” Still plopped in the snow, she handed up her blinking Rudolph pin.
“We'll give it a try.” He secured the pin to his jacket, then pulled her up, thinking that this was the first time she wasn't pulling him up off his keister.
She asked, “Is that how it feels on top of a bull?”
“Sort of, but this was better.”
“Softer landing?”
“I was thinking that the clowns that come to rescue me after I'm bucked off aren't nearly as pretty as you.”
He kissed her firmly on the lips, then picked her up. She protested, mumbling something about bei
ng too heavy, but this time he showed her who was boss and carried her all the way down the snowy hill to the sleigh.
* * * *
By the time they returned to the barn and finished painting the sleigh a brilliant red with black trim, it was dark and almost six o'clock. Kincaid called Peter and told him they'd take care of the nightly feeding of the animals and chickens. While he fed the chickens, a bluish-colored one settled on top of his boots.
“I think she wants you to pick her up,” Gloria said.
“She's a chicken, not a puppy. You pick her up.”
“You're afraid of a chicken?”
“Are you?”
Gloria picked up a black-and-white silkie, so he had to pluck the blue hen off his boots to prove his bravery. He and Gloria looked at each other holding a chicken and burst out laughing.
After the episode with the chickens, Kincaid discovered he wasn't in a hurry to get back to town. But he didn't know why he felt that way. He felt different with Gloria, as if they were in a secret club, like kids with a fort in the woods or a tree house. He offered to make Gloria tea in the barn's loft apartment. He said, “I need to warm you up before we go back to the mansion.”
Gloria winked. “That's quite the invitation.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you so nervous? You afraid of me?”
“No. Yes.” He realized he wanted to confess everything to her, how he was here to stop a wedding, or at least postpone it, how he didn't want to be labeled a fuddy-duddy by being here, how he needed to get back to Vegas to Honey-Honesty-Honda-what's-her-name. But it all sounded sordid in his head. “Gloria, let's just drink our tea and get back.”
His terse command sent Gloria to the sofa. He served her tea, then leaned against the kitchen sink to finish his own cup.
The chickens clucked in the other room. They sipped their drink in a silence that stretched like a rubber band to its breaking point.
Gloria said, “You're not going to tell me what's bothering you, are you?”
“I can't, Glo. It's just business I have to take care of.”
“I'm a good listener. What happens in Moonstone stays in Moonstone.”
He had to smile at her mocking the old Vegas advertising slogan. “We better get back. The roads are likely getting slippery.”
“Maybe we should just stay here for the night.”
As she looked at him over the top of her cup, he realized he wanted nothing more than to stay here with her, to cuddle and let her softness soothe his troubles. The thought scared him. “I'm ready,” he said, putting down his cup in the sink.
By the time he'd driven them back to the mansion, he'd decided that he wasn't the type of man who could break up his best friend's wedding. Something had happened on the farm between himself and Gloria. He couldn't deny he'd had fun. He couldn't deny that he saw something special in Gloria, though he took into account she was all wrong for him. Maybe there was something bewitching about the farm. He'd felt pure and good working with his hands, something he rarely had time for anymore.
They returned to the mansion around eight o'clock. Kincaid was heading up the staircase to the second floor living quarters when Gloria's scream scratched the air. Her cries came from the restaurant.
When he got there, Gloria was rushing about like one of the silkie chickens. “Somebody took the gingerbread replica of the North Pole mansion from the village, and the school building, and the post office. Who would do such a thing? Oh my gosh. The photographer is coming here tomorrow!”
Kincaid looked for help in the restaurant but the last of the dinner guests were leaving. They shrugged.
“It's just a gingerbread house.”
“Just?! That was going to be the centerfold spread in the magazine. That mansion took me two days to make. It was the one piece I hid away upstairs in the pantry and worked on alone. And the other buildings are gone. We're ruined.”
“Can't you just make another one?”
“Make a three-floor mansion with an attic and shutters and a verandah and steps overnight?”
“I guess not,” he said, settling his Stetson on his head. He took her by the shoulders to face him. “I'll find the house, Glo. And the post office and school. Don't you worry. I'm on it.”
But he hadn't a clue what to do next. Anybody dining in the restaurant that evening might have pilfered a gingerbread wall or two. A whole house could be slipped into those huge purses women carried. Who wanted to ruin Gloria, though? It made him mad to think somebody would do this to a woman who was working her derriere off so everybody could have a wonderful Christmas.
* * * *
Kincaid questioned everybody in the house about the missing gingerbread mansion, except for Boze and Dolly. Both had left some time ago, Crystal said. They had appeared upset. Kincaid's heart lurched at that. He wondered if Dolly had finally been contacted about the grand jury probe on her ex-husband. Or maybe she'd finally confessed to everything before the wedding took place. Kincaid could hardly sleep.
On Sunday morning, life got worse. First, Kincaid almost got mowed down by a batch of kids and the St. Bernard dog running up the staircase while he tried to come down. Shandra Leigh Montreaux ran head-long into his knees. When her ever-present backpack went tumbling back down the stairs she burst into tears, then screamed when he picked it up and handed it to her.
Next, with Stetson in hand, Boze came into The Jingle Bell Inn where Kincaid sat with Philippe over coffee, and announced, “Dolly's called off the wedding. She's going back to Chicago. I'm leaving today for Montana.”
Boze towered above them, dazed. Kincaid cleared his throat. Heavy bags billowed below Boze's eyes. He and Dolly must've been up all night. Kincaid wanted to slither away. Sure, he'd wanted Boze to postpone the wedding, but seeing his buddy in this shape made Kincaid realize that wasn't the answer. “What happened?”
“I don't know, but she's upstairs packing her things. Except for this. Which she gave back to me.” He set the moonstone and diamond engagement ring on the table. “What the blue blazes was I thinking, she'd want six kids? You were right, Kade. When push came to shove, the little lady wasn't about to settle down with me in the middle of wheat fields and cattle ranges.”
“Hold on. Sit down. What did she say? Exactly?”
“Nothing. That's just it. She said I don't deserve her and that's it.” Boze put on his hat. “I'm going out to Peter's farm and feed the animals for him and Crystal. Then I'm outta here.”
“I'll go with you.” Kincaid said, a horrible, sick feeling trembling inside him.
“Kade, don't follow me. Fools need to lick their wounds alone.”
As Boze limped out, Gloria marched up to the table, her pinafore apron over a light blue sweater with snowflakes around the shoulders. The outfit looked delicate to Kade, but the look in her eyes was pure icy blizzard. “You did it, didn't you? You had the gingerbread house stolen, and you got to Dolly with your foolish, flimsy folderol, didn't you? What did you say to her?”
“I didn't say a word. I was with you all yesterday afternoon and evening.”
“Precisely. You got me out of the way so that you could ruin the wedding.” Her face turned boiling red. “You've got your wish. Are you happy? You've ruined everybody's Christmas.”
He grabbed Gloria before she could leave. “I didn't do anything. There's a big mix-up here. Somebody told Dolly something but it wasn't me.”
“But you know ‘something', don't you? Your buddy Jason called here. She took the call. That's all she told me between crying jags, that ‘Jason Schuster called'. What the heck did he tell her? What are you two up to?”
Oh no. “He must've called here for me, but she answered the phone and he told her stuff. He wasn't supposed to. It's not my fault.” But it is.
“Stuff?! That was your plan all along, wasn't it? You'd make Jason the fall guy. What do you get out of ruining people's lives?”
She hurried off, the bow on her butt snapping like a flag in an angry storm.<
br />
Kincaid plopped back down.
Philippe stared over at him. “Mon ami, the good times are not rolling anymore. Did you really want to break up John Hall and Dolly O'Toole?”
Kincaid tapped his fingers on the table top. “Yes. No. Okay, maybe.”
Philippe stared at him, waiting.
“Yeah, I'm confused. I learned there's this grand jury probe on her ex-husband's real estate dealings. I didn't want Boze mixed up in it. Such things can drag on for years. If only he'd postpone the wedding. Maybe canceling it's the wrong idea.”
“Mon ami, how bad does it look for your friend? Maybe you were only trying to do the right thing?”
“Jason works for the government. He's been working on a case in which Brendan Kane had done some underhanded dealings in real estate in three states. It's complicated. I shouldn't talk about it with you. Let's just say Dolly's name is on the paperwork and there are a lot of angry people who want their money back on some property.”
“And so their life could be fun and games with expensive lawyers?”
“And jail time, Philippe.”
Philippe got up, his dark countenance clouding even blacker. “It's too much intrigue for me. Keeping track of my little girl is all the intrigue I can handle. Did you see her?”
“She's with a pack of the creatures that almost mowed me down on the stairs earlier.”
“Thank you.” Philippe cleared his throat. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“Start with what matters.”
“Get the wedding back on track.”
“No, that is out of your hands. First, help Gloria find her gingerbread house. It has meaning far beyond mere dough to Gloria Gibson, or for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Betrayal,” Philippe said. “She feels you betrayed her and that you betrayed your friend. And that matters to her.”
“It matters to me, too. I feel awful.”
“So does Gloria. Have you not seen the love shining in her eyes, mon ami?”
“Love?” Kincaid felt as if a bull had stomped on his head. “She's bossy and she finds me handy, but let's not stretch it to the L word. I've only known her for a couple of days.”
Men Of Moonstone Series Page 10
