It's a Christmas Thing

by Janet Dailey

  “So have I,” she said. “But first, come down the hall with me. You need to see something.” She touched a finger to her lips. “Not a sound, now.”

  Walking quietly, he followed her down the hall to her bedroom. The door stood partway open. From where he stood, Rush could see Clara sleeping like a little dark-haired angel, with her arm around the white kitten. The sight of her raised a lump in his throat. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to make that little girl happy. But considering what she wanted, she might as well have wished for the moon.

  He followed Tracy back to the couch and settled her next to him with her head on his shoulder. The fire lent a cozy glow to the room. Rush rested his boots on the hearth and let the tension of the day ease out of him.

  “I can get you something to drink,” Tracy said. “Would you like a beer?”

  “Don’t you dare move,” he said. “I could stay just like this forever.”

  Tracy snuggled closer. “Clara spent half the afternoon making Christmas cards for everybody. You, Travis and Conner, Maggie, the McFarlands . . . I think she even made one for Bucket. I put them in a bag for her to take home. Don’t let her forget them.”

  “I won’t.” Rush sighed. “Damn it, I wish I could give her what she wants. I hate to see her heart broken on Christmas morning when Santa doesn’t deliver her wish.”

  Tracy stirred and looked up at him. “But she understands that it’s only a wish, Rush. That’s what she told me today. She’s not expecting it to come true.”

  Rush gave her a surprised look. “Then why did she write the letter?”

  “She wanted to tell Santa her wish. But as she said to me, Santa can only bring toys and things. He can’t make people change.”

  “Damn, I had no idea,” Rush said.

  “She’s a very wise little girl. You should be proud of her.”

  “I am.” Rush shook his head. “I was just wondering how two people as shallow as Sonya and Andre could have produced a child like Clara.”

  Tracy squeezed his hand. “She had you to give her a good start. And she had Cecil and Annie. She made cards for them, too. If you have their address, maybe you could help her mail them.”

  “I do, and I’ll be happy to. Cecil and Annie would love those cards.” Rush sat in silence for a long moment, gazing into the fire.

  “Are you all right?” Tracy asked. “You look perplexed.”

  Rush exhaled slowly. “I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve wasted time beating myself up because I couldn’t give Clara what she wanted. Now I need something real to give her. I want her to remember this Christmas forever. Something tells me I’m going to need your help.”

  “Of course, you’ll want to give her presents to open,” Tracy said. “I could take her to the mall in Cottonwood Springs. Maybe she’ll see something she wants there. Meanwhile there’ll be things going on all week. We’ve got the parade coming up on Saturday, with the Christmas brunch in the morning, and the Christmas Ball that night. And she can always have fun in the snow on the ranch. You could even—”

  She broke off as Clara emerged from the hall, trailing the quilt and cradling Snowflake in her arms. “What are you and Tracy talking about, Daddy?” she asked, still sounding sleepy.

  “We’re talking about ways to have fun,” Rush said. “And I just thought of one. How would you and Tracy like to go on a sleigh ride?”

  Chapter 13

  Tracy drove herself to the ranch that evening. Rush had offered to come to town and pick her up for the sleigh ride. But she knew the partners would be busy with last-minute preparations. The roads had been plowed, and her old Mercedes had new all-season tires. The short drive wasn’t a problem.

  She swung the car through the gate, parked, and lifted out the pan of cinnamon rolls she’d made. The front porch and yard were hung with lights, and Christmas music was playing on the boom box.

  By now, most families in town had bought trees, but a few were still looking, their children enjoying the free hot chocolate and marshmallows roasted over a small bonfire. The partners had hired two local teenagers to tend the fire, serve the hot chocolate, and supervise the marshmallow roasting.

  It was Rush who opened the front door for her. “Hey, come on in. Ladies with treats are always welcome here. Are you ready for a moonlight sleigh ride?”

  “Ready.” Tracy laughed as Clara came bounding into sight, bundled into layers of warm clothes.

  “Can we go now?” she demanded. “And can Bucket come with us?”

  “That’s fine with me,” Rush said. “I’ll bet Bucket’s already waiting for us in the sleigh. Tracy, do you mind sharing the ride with a smelly, wiggly dog?”

  “The more the merrier,” Tracy said. “Let’s go.”

  They trooped out the door to the backyard, where the sleigh was waiting with Conner at the reins and Bucket next to him on the driver’s bench. The sleigh rides for customers wouldn’t start until tomorrow. Today the partners had made an afternoon trial run with the sleigh and horses. But they needed to make another run by moonlight, with passengers, to test the trail again, and to re-accustom the Percherons to nighttime sounds and shadows that might startle them.

  Tonight, Conner, the most experienced driver, would handle the team. Rush, Tracy, and Clara would ride in the sleigh. Travis would keep an eye on business at the house.

  The ride would take them across the pastures, over the hill to the tree forest, and back again for a round-trip of about forty minutes—plenty of time on a chilly night.

  Rush helped Tracy and Clara into the sleigh and tucked a warm quilt around them before he climbed onto the seat beside them. They sat with Clara in the middle, keeping her warm from both sides.

  “Ready?” Conner glanced back over his shoulder, grinning.

  “Ready!” Clara said.

  “Okay,” Conner said. “Before we start I need to tell you a couple of things. People on these sleigh rides tend to make a lot of noise. I need you to get the horses used to the ruckus so they won’t be scared next time. Shout, sing, hoot, and holler, anything you want to. Understand?”

  “You said a couple of things. What else do we need to know?” Tracy asked.

  “Just a word of caution.” Conner winked. “Last year there were three marriage proposals on these sleigh rides. And some of the couples got so passionate that I didn’t dare look back at them. There’s something about being out here on a beautiful moonlit night that brings out the romance in people. If that happens to you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Clara giggled. “You can kiss her, Daddy. I won’t look.”

  Conner whooped with laughter. “Here we go!” He clucked his tongue and slapped the reins lightly on the horses’ backs. The traces tightened as the massive animals pulled, moving the sleigh effortlessly over the packed snow. Bucket kept his balance on the driver’s bench next to Conner, ears pricked, nose sniffing the air.

  The night was cold and clear, the stars like a spill of diamond dust across the ink black sky. The rising moon hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow across the snowy landscape.

  The horses moved at an easy walk, their hooves all but silent on the snow as the sleigh glided along. Tracy was entranced by the peace of the night, broken only by the snort of a horse, the faint swish of runners, and the faint jingle of harness bells; but it wasn’t meant to last.

  “I don’t hear any hootin’ and hollerin’ back there,” Conner called to them. “Come on, folks, let’s have some noise!”

  “I’ve never been much of a hootin’ and hollerin’ type,” Tracy confessed to Rush in a whisper.

  “Then how about we sing? Come on now.” Rush broke into “Jingle Bells,” his voice a deep, musical baritone. Clara joined in, then Tracy. Once she got warmed up, it became fun. After “Jingle Bells,” they sang their way through “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and “Up on the House Top.” They’d just started on “Jolly Old St. Nicholas,” when a startled jackrabbit leaped out of a sage clump, almost under the front hooves of t
he horses.

  The two huge animals snorted, stamped, and reared, yanking at their harnesses. As the sleigh rocked, almost tipping, Rush flung himself protectively in front of Clara and Tracy, holding them in place on the seat.

  A less skilled driver than Conner might have lost control of the team. But within seconds, working the reins and talking in a soothing voice, he managed to calm the horses and avoid a dangerous spill. As the sleigh swayed to a halt, they all took a breath of relief.

  “Are you all right?” Conner asked his passengers.

  “We’re fine,” Rush said. “But where’s the dog?”

  Conner swore under his breath. Evidently, Bucket had caught sight of the rabbit as it bounded off across the snow. He’d leaped off the sleigh and gone rocketing after it. By the time Conner had quieted the horses, he was almost over the next hill, a distant dot against the moonlit snow.

  “Bucket!” Conner shouted at the top of his lungs. “Come back here, you blasted mutt!”

  Bucket didn’t respond.

  “What can we do?” Clara was close to tears.

  “All we can do is keep going and hope the fool dog comes back,” Conner said.

  “What if he doesn’t come back? We can’t leave him out here. It’s too cold.” Clara had started to cry. “He’ll freeze. Or the coyotes will get him. I know about coyotes. They could kill him.”

  Tracy gathered the little girl close, wrapping her in her arms. “Don’t worry, Clara,” Rush said. “Bucket knows where we are. When he gets tired of chasing that rabbit, he’ll come back and find us. You’ll see.”

  Conner nudged the horses to a brisk walk. As the sleigh moved ahead, Tracy heard a sound, faint with distance but unmistakable. She clutched Clara tighter, making sure the little girl’s ears were covered so she wouldn’t hear. Rush glanced toward her. As their eyes met, they heard the sound again. Tracy shivered, a chill creeping up her back.

  It was the haunting cry of a coyote.

  Coyotes were no threat to the horses or the people in the sleigh. But a full-grown coyote could kill a dog like Bucket. If she heard their calls, out there in the darkness, Clara would be terrified for him.

  Thinking fast, Tracy spoke up. “I know what we can do. Let’s sing again, as loud as we can, so Bucket will hear us and come.”

  It was Rush who began the song, his rich baritone ringing in the darkness. “Silent night . . . holy night . . .”

  Tracy and Clara, then even Conner, joined in. Now the night was anything but silent as the sleigh glided up the rise that overlooked the tree forest. Minutes had passed. Still there was no sign of Bucket.

  At the crest of the hill, Conner paused the horses. In the hollow below, the pine trees spread like a dark carpet, snow glittering on their branches.

  Suddenly Conner hushed the song and pointed down into the hollow. Standing in the sleigh for a better view, Tracy followed his gaze. Her lips parted in wonder. Rush stood beside her, holding Clara high so she could see.

  In a moonlit clearing at the edge of the trees, two dark shapes were romping in play. One of them was Bucket. The other was a small coyote.

  “It looks like a young one, probably a female,” Rush whispered in Tracy’s ear. “She could be looking for a boyfriend. Bucket can’t be much help on that account, but look how much fun they’re having.”

  The two animals were tussling in the snow, rolling, and chasing each other in circles, all in the spirit of play. Watching them, it was hard not to smile. But if more coyotes showed up, Bucket would be in danger.

  Conner gave a loud whistle. The young coyote looked up at the sleigh on the hill, wheeled in her tracks, and raced off into the trees. Bucket hesitated, as if torn between chasing her and returning to his human pack.

  “Bucket, come,” Conner commanded. “Come on, boy.”

  Decision made, Bucket trotted up the hill and jumped into the sleigh. He was snowy, dirty, and smelled like eau de coyote, but his face wore a doggy grin. Clara jumped off the seat and flung her arms around him. “You bad dog!” she scolded him. “Now you’re all wet and cold. Come up under the blanket and get warm.”

  She helped Bucket scramble onto the seat, then climbed up next to him and covered him with her end of the quilt. The wet dog reeked to high heaven, but he was shivering with cold, so keeping him covered probably wasn’t a bad idea.

  Tracy gave Rush a smile as he shifted to make more room on the seat. This sleigh ride hadn’t turned out to be the romantic interlude they’d hoped for. But they’d shared an adventure, one that Clara would talk about for a long time to come.

  * * *

  Back at the ranch, they cleaned up. Clara’s nylon parka and the quilt went into the washer. Rush offered to bathe the dog, with the help of Clara, who’d washed the dog before and knew what to expect.

  “I’ll help, too,” Tracy said.

  “No need. Bucket doesn’t mind baths if the water’s warm.” Rush piled some worn-out towels on the floor, herded the dog into the bathroom, and ran the tub, the only place to wash him in cold weather. While the tap was running, he filled an empty milk jug with fresh water for rinsing.

  “Give me a break,” Tracy teased. “It looks like fun.”

  “Come on, Daddy, let her help,” Clara said.

  Rush lowered Bucket into the warm water, then glanced up at Tracy. “All right, but if you get soaked, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Tracy rolled up her sleeves and knelt next to the tub. Rush was secretly pleased that she wanted to help, but he kept that to himself as he handed her a plastic soft drink cup. “Okay, use this to scoop water on him while I soap.”

  “What about me?” Clara asked.

  “Stay up by his head. Talk to him and keep him calm. And try not to get too wet.” As Tracy began wetting Bucket down with bathwater, Rush lathered soap between his hands and rubbed it into the dog’s wet, smelly fur.

  “Ugh!” She wrinkled her nose. “He smells worse now than he did in the sleigh.”

  “Keep pouring water on him,” Rush said. “Coyotes are smelly animals. They roll in whatever they can find to hide their scent. But I imagine that, to Bucket, that young lady coyote smelled like she was wearing perfume. We should probably keep an eye on him when he’s outside. He might get it into his fool head to go looking for her again.”

  “Did you have fun, Bucket?” Clara scratched the dog’s head. “Don’t worry. We’re not mad at you. Just don’t do that again.” She paused, as if remembering something. “Daddy, did you ever find out if Bucket likes cats?”

  “I never found anybody who knew.” Rush added more soap to the thick fur around Bucket’s neck.

  “But I did,” Tracy said. “I asked Maggie. She knew the man who gave Bucket to Travis. Bucket was raised with an old cat. He gets along fine with cats.”

  “See, Daddy! He does like cats!”

  “Maybe so.” Rush knew what Clara was thinking. “But that doesn’t mean Bucket would be gentle with a kitten. He likes to play rough.”

  “Oh.” Clara sighed. Rush hated to crush her hopes, but reality was what it was. A tiny kitten wouldn’t be safe on the ranch.

  After twenty minutes of soaping and rinsing, Bucket was fit for polite company once more. Rush pulled the drain plug and gave him a final rinse-off with the water from the jug. He was reaching for the stack of old towels when Bucket did what he always did after a bath—he shook his coat, flinging water in all directions.

  Rush and Clara knew what to expect. They dodged out of the way. But Tracy was caught off guard. The water hit her straight on, soaking her down the front from her head to her hips.

  As the shaking ceased, she knelt by the tub, her face frozen in shock. Water was dripping off her hair and running down her face, pooling in the hollow between her breasts and plastering her shirt to her body.

  Recovering slowly, she looked down to assess the damage. Her eyes met Rush’s. He tried to hide his amusement, but lost the battle to the laughter that tugged the corners of his mouth and spilled
over.

  Her gaze took on a steely look. Something told Rush he was in trouble.

  Her hand still held the plastic cup she’d used to pour water on the dog. The tub was emptying slowly. A few inches of dirty water remained in the bottom.

  With a lightning move, she scooped a cupful of water and dumped it over his head. “Now it’s my turn to laugh at you,” she said. “See how it feels.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke. She was beautiful, even like this, Rush thought, with her hair hanging in wet strings around her glowing face, her wet shirt clinging to her body, revealing every sexy, enticing curve.

  Somewhere behind him, Clara was enjoying a giggle fit, reminding him that he and Tracy weren’t alone. If they had been, Rush thought, he would have crushed her in his arms, devoured her with his lips, and turned his hands loose to possess all the sweet, forbidden places he’d yearned to touch.

  As they gazed at each other, her eyes became dark pools of emotion. Her damp lips parted. The urge to kiss her, here and now, even with Clara watching, was a fever in him. He reached out . . .

  That was when Bucket made his move. With no one paying attention to him, he clambered over the edge of the tub, raced out of the bathroom and down the hall, leaving a watery trail behind him.

  With a half-mouthed curse, Rush grabbed a handful of towels and plunged after the dog, tackling him as he made it to the kitchen. Bucket wagged and grinned, enjoying the game as Rush toweled him dry. “Blasted hound,” Rush muttered. “If there’s a way to get into trouble, you’ll find it.”

  * * *

  By the time Travis and Conner ended the ranch business for the night and came inside, Clara was ready for bed, and Tracy was getting ready to leave. She’d given her hair and clothes time to dry, but everything smelled from the dog bath. She was anxious to get home, throw her clothes in the washer, and take a long, hot shower.

  She’d spent some time helping Clara read one of the beginner books Rush had brought home from the library. The little girl had come a long way since the day Tracy had helped her write to Santa. By the time she started kindergarten next year, she could be reading well—at least she might be, if her Phoenix family gave her the help and encouragement she needed. Tracy made a mental note to buy some books as a gift for Clara along with the snow globe.