Santa in a Stetson

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Got any more Christmas carols?” he asked Jo as he gathered up the reins.

  “I have tons of Christmas carols. Which one do you want?”

  “You know, I have a hankerin’ to hear ‘Joy to the World.’”

  12

  GETTING BACK on the main road was a little trickier than Russ had figured on. He had to drive to the dead end and bring the sleigh around in a half circle to get headed in the right direction. In the process he knew he must have jostled Jo’s ankle when the runners hit a bump. She sang through it all.

  “You sure you’re okay back there?” he called after the second bump.

  “I have never been more okay,” she hollered.

  “Why don’t you sing with me, cowboy?”

  “What the heck,” he muttered to himself. And before he knew it, there he was, driving a sleigh down a snowy road, singing “Joy to the World” right along with Jo. Steve would never have believed such a thing was possible. Blackie swiveled his ears back as if to catch the sound, and his trot grew more brisk, making the bells on his collar jingle merrily in tune with the carols.

  When the first tune was finished, they moved on to “Silver Bells” and “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” It was the first time Russ had tried singing sober in years. The feeling wasn’t half-bad, and he could remember the words to the songs a darn sight better than he could when he was drunk.

  They were singing “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” when he pulled up in front of Benny’s house. He kept it up as he took the two packages addressed to Benny and climbed down from the sleigh. Then, finishing the chorus with Jo, he walked to where she was, swung up on the running board and leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

  “That was fun,” she said, grinning at him.

  “The singin’ or the kissin’?”

  “Both. Come back soon, Santa.”

  “I don’t know if I should.” Lord, he was having a good time. “Have you been a good little girl?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’ll get back here as quick as I can. Sounds like you’re just the kind of little girl I’ve been lookin’ for.”

  Her laughter followed him up the walk to the bungalow where father and son lived. She was exactly the sort of girl he’d been looking for, he thought as his grin faded. But once she knew the truth about him, he wouldn’t be the man she’d been looking for, not by a long shot. But he was having such a great time that he wanted to put off the moment when he’d have to tell her, at least for a little while.

  The house was dark except for the soft glow of the porch light. A sled was propped near the door, and crude drawings of Santa and Frosty the Snowman were taped to the windows. Russ started to set the two gifts on the rubber welcome mat in front of the door when the lock twisted and the door opened a crack.

  “Is that you, Santa?” whispered a child from inside.

  “Benny?” Russ asked.

  “Yeah, Santa, it’s me, Benny.”

  “Benny, I’m—”

  “I’ve been real good, Santa. Want some milk and cookies?”

  “I don’t really—”

  “They’re right here, on the table. I thought you’d come down the chimney.”

  Russ thought of explaining who he was, but that would burst this little kid’s bubble, and the quivering excitement in Benny’s words was hard to resist. He deliberately deepened his voice. “Tell you what, Benny. I’ll come in for a minute, and bring you your presents, but we won’t turn on any lights and wake up your daddy, okay?”

  “Okay,” Benny whispered. He opened the door. In the glow from the porch light the boy stood there in his Star Wars pajamas and looked up at Russ in wonder. “Where’s your red suit?”

  “Sometimes I like to dress like a cowboy.” Russ pulled his Stetson down over his eyes, hoping Benny wouldn’t recognize him if he saw him some other time, like out at the ranch. Then he walked into the darkened living room, the packages under one arm.

  “I like dressing like a cowboy, too.”

  “How come you’re not asleep?”

  “Kids never sleep on Christmas.” Benny took Russ’s hand and led him over to the fireplace. “The cookies are right over here.”

  Benny seemed more interested in feeding him cookies than finding out what was in the packages. Russ was impressed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a little boy’s hand, and it stirred all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings. “I’m real hungry, too,” he said, still disguising his voice. “It’s been a long night.”

  “I’ll bet. I heard you coming. I saw your sleigh.”

  Russ wondered if he’d live to regret this idea. Benny would see the sleigh again one day when Steve started giving rides to tourists. Russ thought fast. “And you know what? I borrowed that sleigh from my helper, ol’ Steve Gibson, ‘cause it fits in with my western clothes. I’m givin’ it back to him after tonight.”

  “I know him! He let me ride his horse!”

  “Better keep your voice down, son. Wouldn’t want to disturb your daddy.”

  “Oh.” Benny let go of his hand and picked up the plate of cookies. “Eat these, Santa,” he whispered. “They’re good.”

  Russ set down the packages next to the tree. “Want to have one with me?”

  “I’m not s’posed to. They’re for you.”

  Russ considered the three chocolate-chip cookies on the plate Benny held out. “Two’s my limit, pardner. Mrs. Claus put me on a diet.”

  “But you’re not fat. I thought you’d be fat.”

  “See how good the diet is workin’?”

  “You could have three.”

  “Nope. Mrs. Claus wouldn’t like it. You take one.”

  “Well...okay.” Benny took the smallest cookie. After Russ claimed the other two, Benny put down the plate and picked up the glass of milk. “Here.”

  Russ figured the milk had been sitting there for maybe four or five hours at least. The parents were supposed to wait until the kids went to bed, then polish off the milk and cookies. Benny’s dad hadn’t done that With all his worries, that was understandable. Maybe he planned to beat Benny out here in the morning, but with little kids that wasn’t a very safe bet. He was beginning to remember what Christmas had been like when he was five, and he hadn’t slept much, either.

  He didn’t dare tell Benny to drink the milk. If it was spoiled, Benny could get sick. Hoping that milk spoiled slower on a cold winter night, he took the glass. “Thanks.” He gulped it down. It was terrible, but then he’d given up milk a long time ago in favor of beer. He probably wouldn’t have liked it ice-cold, either. He took a big bite of cookie to kill the taste.

  “Can I open my presents now?” Benny asked.

  Russ swallowed a mouthful of cookie. “Don’t you want to wait ‘til mornin’, when your daddy gets up?”

  “Nope. He sleeps late.”

  Russ was kind of curious about the presents, himself.

  “Okay, let ’er rip.”

  Benny squatted and started in on the biggest package, which looked like a small hat box. Sure enough, there inside was the miniature Stetson that Steve used to wear when he was Benny’s age. Russ had seen it hanging on a peg in their old bedroom for years. Steve must have decided not to save it any longer for the kid he might never have.

  “Wow!” Benny took the hat out of the box as if handling a gold crown. “I never had one like this.”

  Russ tucked the second cookie in his pocket for Jo. Thinking about Steve giving up this hat was causing a lump in his throat that made it tough to eat, anyhow. He cleared away the hoarseness. “Let’s see it on you, cowpoke.”

  Benny situated the hat on his head and glanced up at Russ. “How’s that?”

  “Let’s tilt the brim a little more.” Russ crouched and adjusted the hat. “There. That’s perfect.” In the darkness, it could have been Steve’s boy, and Russ’s eyes got kind of watery, knowing how much Steve had longed for the day he could pass on that hat.

  Another kid’s Stetson hung o
n the next peg in their old bedroom—the one Russ used to wear. Steve could use that hat if he needed one. Russ wouldn’t need it. Damn, but all of a sudden he wanted to need it. And he knew who he wanted to help him make that kid, too. This Christmas stuff had him thinking crazy thoughts.

  The hat still on his head, Benny squatted next to the box. “There’s a letter in here.”

  Hot dog, Russ thought. Benny might need Russ to read the card to him. Then he’d know what Steve had been writing about to all these folks.

  Benny peered at the envelope. “That’s not how you spell my name,” he said with some disappointment “It must be for Daddy.”

  Russ was disappointed. He and Benny couldn’t very well open a card addressed to someone else.

  “Why did you send a letter to Daddy, Santa?”

  “Uh, just wanted to wish him a merry Christmas.”

  “Oh.” Benny dropped the letter back in the box and started on the second package. In no time he’d pulled out a hand-braided hatband. “Cool! I’m gonna look great!” He took off the hat and brought both the hat and hatband to Russ. “Can you help me put it on?”

  “Sure.” Sitting back on his heels, Russ took the hat and hatband. Even in the dim light he recognized Steve’s work in the braiding. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to make a little boy happy, but Russ was beginning to understand the reward Steve got out of it. Once the hatband was snugged up around the crown, Russ settled the hat on Benny’s head.

  The kid’s big grin seemed to light up the darkness.

  “You look great, son,” Russ said, his voice husky.

  “Thanks, Santa. Did you like the cookies?”

  “Outstanding.” Russ adjusted the tilt of Benny’s new hat again, not because it needed adjusting, but because he liked doing things for this kid. “Now, I’d best get going, and you’d best skedaddle off to bed.”

  “I’m gonna hang my hat on the bedpost.”

  “Yep, that’s what cowboys do.”

  “I know.” Benny started off toward his room. He turned back. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

  “Merry Christmas, Benny.” Russ watched him go down the hall. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had more regret for the way his life had turned out, and the stupid things he’d done. Benny might look up to him when he was parading around as Santa, but Russ didn’t deserve that kind of respect as the hell-raising cowboy he really was, the man who had carelessly ended the life of someone else.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and stood. With one last look around the room, he went out the door, locking it behind him. Benny’s dad might have some troubles, what with his wife running off and all, but he had one terrific kid. Russ envied him that something fierce. Maybe next summer when he came back to work with Steve, he’d be able to spend time with Benny. With luck, the little boy wouldn’t recognize him as the guy who’d pretended to be Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

  JO HAD WATCHED Russ get caught at the front door of Benny’s house. He’d stayed inside quite a while, although no lights went on in the house, so he must have been talking to Benny in the dark. She’d consulted the list and figured out the last stop on their route. She’d burrowed under the blankets as best she could, but she was beginning to shiver by the time he came back out.

  His walk was slower than it had been going in, and she suspected he’d dealt with some emotional issues inside the bungalow. That wasn’t all bad, she thought.

  He pulled something out of his pocket before he stepped onto the running board and leaned toward her. “Have a cookie.”

  She smiled at him as she took it. “D—do you mean to tell me you’ve been in there eating cookies?”

  He climbed in the sleigh. “And drinking the most godawful glass of milk in the world. You got cold waitin’ for me, didn’t you?”

  “I’m f-fine.”

  “Just let me hold you a little while and get some of that chill off.”

  Jo moved into his arms gratefully. “Just don’t forget we’re parked in front of somebody’s house.”

  “Not to mention Benny’s nose is probably glued to the window right this minute.” Russ wrapped his arms around her. “So I don’t even dare kiss you. Eat your cookie. The sugar will give you energy and help raise your body temperature.”

  “I’d give anything for a hot cup of coffee to go with it.”

  “Soon.” Russ tucked her head under his chin. “We’re almost done.”

  Jo chewed a bite of cookie as she began to warm up within the security of Russ’s embrace. “So Benny thought you really were Santa Claus?”

  “Yep. He saw the sleigh from his window and heard the bells jingling. That’s all it took.”

  “Was he surprised you weren’t fat and jolly, with a white beard?”

  “Maybe, but he wanted to believe so bad that he was ready to swallow any story I told him.” His arms tightened around her. “And I do know what that’s like.”

  She knew immediately what he was talking about. “Hey, cowboy, I’m telling you the truth this time. When we get back to my place, I’ll prove it to you.”

  “And how’re you gonna do that?”

  “I’ll let you go through my place with a fine-tooth comb. I haven’t had a chance to hide the evidence—if a guy lives there, even part-time, you’ll know.”

  He paused, as if to consider that. “I reckon I would know, at that.”

  “Then, when you find nothing, your conscience will be clear.”

  “Oh, little darlin’, my conscience probably won’t ever be clear.” He kissed the top of her head. “But that’s not your concern.”

  She wondered if she dared ask. Finally she decided they’d shared enough that she had that right “Don’t be so sure. Talk to me, Russ.”

  He was silent for several seconds. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m a good listener.” She waited, but he didn’t go on. “It has something to do with Christmas, doesn’t it?”

  He went very still. After a moment he cleared his throat. “You warmed up enough to go to the last house on the list?”

  “Russ—”

  “Let’s leave it for now, honey.” He sounded as sad as she’d ever heard him. “I’ll end up telling you the whole thing. I know that now. But let’s leave it until later.”

  Jo’s heart ached for him and she hugged him tight. “Okay, if that’s what you want. But I know you much better than I did a month ago. You’re a kind and gentle man, and you have strong principles. You couldn’t possibly have done something that terrible.”

  He didn’t respond as he released her and climbed out of the bed of the sleigh. “Where’s the last present go?”

  “To the Dutton family. The address was blurred, but I think it’s on—”

  “That’s okay. I know where they live. Dave got himself stomped by a rodeo bull last year, and he’s in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down. Fran’s holding things together for him and the two little girls.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “He got hurt doin’ what he loves, but still, it’s rough on them. If I know Claire, she filled a basket from her supply of home-canned goodies in the cellar. She puts up the best wild-strawberry jam in the county. Those little girls go crazy for it.”

  “Then I guess we’d better make sure they have some for breakfast on Christmas morning.”

  “Guess so.” Russ swung down from the running board and walked up to feed Blackie the last of the carrots from his pocket.

  He hadn’t leaned down to kiss her before he left this time, she thought. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him away with her questions, but they needed to talk and settle a few things. The bond growing between them was too important to let secrets weaken it.

  Colored Christmas lights winked from the porch roof of the Duttons’ two-story house, and several blank spots showed that bulbs that had burned out hadn’t been replaced. But what astounded Jo was that lights were on in every room of the house even though it was nearly three-thirty in the morning.

  “So
mething’s wrong,” Russ said, pulling Blackie to a stop at the curb. “They wouldn’t have all the lights on like that ordinarily.”

  “You’re right.” Jo tossed aside the blankets and pulled on her boot, although she didn’t try to zip it over Russ’s makeshift bandage. “That’s why I’m going up there with you. They may need help.”

  Russ hopped down and picked up the last package on the seat of the sleigh. “You shouldn’t be puttin’ weight on your ankle. Stay put.”

  “Absolutely not. You can either help me out of here and let me hang on to you a little bit as we go up the walk, or I’ll do it on my own.”

  “If there’s somethin’ really wrong in there, how can you help if you’re stove up?”

  “You never know. I could sit and talk to someone if they need comforting, for one thing. But if they need you to help, I’d rather sit inside for an hour than out in the sleigh.”

  “You’ve got a point there. I shouldn’t have left you out there when I was talkin’ to Benny.”

  “Oh, Russ, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I just—”

  “Okay, here’s how we’re doin’ this.” He put the package on the running board. “You’ll hold the present and I’ll carry you.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You don’t have to carry me to the door. I’ll feel like a fool.”

  “Them’s my terms, sweetheart. Now just be quiet and cooperate. I can hear some kid screamin’ in there.”

  “Yeah, me, too. All right.”

  “Just climb into my arms.”

  That wasn’t such a bad assignment, she decided. She’d never known a man strong enough to hold her so effortlessly, but then she’d never known a blacksmith before.

  “Now pick up the package and we’ll be on our way,” Russ said.