The ornery kids are nestled quiet in their beds, while visions of getting coal dances in their heads. All the mamma’s are ready, the dads’ full of crap, are settling down for a long winter’s nap.”
The kids already know what’s coming up. They’re no longer paying attention to the fake snow, or video. All eyes are on me.
I get into character, playing along with their amusement.
“When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.” I jump up and head to the nearby window, peering out as if I spot something. “Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the curtains and searched for the crash.
The moon shining down on the new-fallen snow gives me a perfect lit view for what sits below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a giant red sleigh, and eight furry reindeer.
With a fat old driver, so brave and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than cattle his presents they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called the deer by name!
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen.”
I shake my finger. “But don’t forget Rudolph, whose nose shines so bright, guiding them all through the dark of the night! To the top of the roof their hooves marched to his call.” I stomp to make the sounds as I come back to my chair.
“Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
Now pointing to the ceiling. “As my eyes proved the truth while seeing Santa fly, he’s right in that sleigh, his guides mounted to the sky. So up to the roof-top as fast as they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from above, the prancing and pawing of each of their hooves. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.”
I race over to the railing to look below where the chimney sits.
”He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked so generous, just opening his pack.”
I turn back to the kids and touch parts of my face while continuing.
”His eyes-how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were quite full, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.”
I pull a fake pipe from my pocket to use a prop. “The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke soon encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!”
“Have you ever seen Santa, Uncle Colt?” Little Madison asks.
I nod. “I reckon I have a few times.”
“Was he scary?” She wants to know.
“Not at all, although, I’ve never been close enough to ask him anything.”
“I bet he’s real nice,” Bacon mentions.
“Not nice to you,” his sister adds.
To avoid conflict, I quickly get back into character. “Ho, ho, ho, now listen here, children. The story can’t continue until all the little boys and girls give me their full attention. Be good now, or else you’ll get coal.”
The kids begin to laugh at me pretending to be a plump old man. I keep at it, playing along to the story. A few are yawning already.
“A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon led me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. He offered a smirk then up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh that shot out like a whistle, then away they all flew like the down of a thistle. That final second before he disappeared out of sight, I swear I heard him exclaim, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!’”
A couple sniffles fill the room as my eyes course across the space. Nestled together, the children anticipate what’s to come, determined to stay awake because they think they’ll catch Santa piling gifts under the large family tree.
Savanna stands and claps her hands together. “All right now kids. It’s time for bed.”
“Grandma, can you leave the snowflake light on like last year?” Christian’s daughter Chloe asks. She’s only four, and very scared of the dark, even though she’s in bed with two of her cousins.
“Of course. Remember, if Santa hears anyone out of bed he won’t leave presents.”
“Uncle Colt,” one of Cammie’s sons call. “Can you read it one more time?”
I look to Savanna and offer a smile. “Yeah, sure, kiddo. This time everyone close your eyes and imagine it in your minds.”
Savanna leans forward and kisses me on the cheek, leaving her lips near my ear as she whispers. “I’ll see you back at the house, you old stud. I still have some things to get ready for tomorrow’s breakfast, and then a nice hot bath.”
“Okay, darlin’. I’ll be right behind you.”
She smirks while leaving. “I know you will.”
Chapter 2
Tyler
The lights are dimmed. All the spoiled rotten kids are pretending to sleep because they think they'll be able to catch Santa in action. There's a huge grin on my face when Colt appears outside the barn. He already knows what I'm thinking. It's the same every darn year. "They ain't going to bed any time soon."
I pat him on the shoulder when his stride meets mine. "Not our problem anymore, cuz. Their parents can deal with that."
"Yeah, they're just being kids. I remember sneaking around Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of the big man."
"Yeah, me too. Remember when we tried to drill a hole in the upstairs floor so we could keep watch on the chimney?"
Colt's chuckle fills the night air. "It would have been fine if Miranda hadn't caught us."
I agree. "Then of course had to run and tell Conner."
Colt points at me as he reiterates. "That jealous prick told my father. I swore I was getting that coal. He was pissed. I seriously felt like Christmas would get canceled."
"You still got that dirt bike."
"And we wrecked it two days later, remember?"
It's funny now, but it wasn't back then. "How can I forget? I took the blame, after your story about being chased by hunters didn't pan out. It was a damn blizzard. There was nothing out to hunt."
"Okay, I see the error of my ways, but that was probably the only time in history where you actually didn't deserve the punishment."
"What about the time we convinced Conner to ride the sled off the barn roof?"
My cousin is beside himself with laughter. "I forgot about that. He broke his finger that night."
"He's lucky he didn't break his neck. The snow had piled up from the plow, so it was hard as a rock. The damn sled capsized the second he hit the ice. Remember he gashed his head?" There was so much blood. It oozed out of the cut, and as much as Conner likes to play the tough guy, he was a little wuss back then.
"Oh yeah. We tried to convince him to keep it a secret, but he was crying like a bitch over his finger. He had to tell an adult. They followed the trail of blood out to the hill."
It's funny talking about it now. "So we told him to say an icicle fell off and hit him like that kid in the movie. And we hid the broken sled."
"The story worked until the next morning when they woke up and saw the skid marks on the roof from the sled."
"Then we were screwed."
Colt stops walking when we reach his front porch. Miranda is sitting in a winter coat, rocking on a swing, waiting for me. She's got a covered hot beverage gripped in her hand.
"We're lucky we didn't kill ourselves back then."
"We even managed to raise a group of great kids."
Colt agrees. "We've done well for ourselves, that's for sure."
My wife approaches, but
doesn’t wrap her arms around me without giving me a recognizable glare. “What are the two of you talking about?”
“Being bad of course.” Colt cackles. “What else is there to talk about when Ty’s involved?”
Miranda shakes her head with an amused grin. “Well, you have a point. He gives that bad grandpa on television a run for his money.”
I should take offense to this, but for obvious reasons it makes me gloat instead. Life isn’t fun without humor. People like me make the world a more interesting place to live. I’d never regret the antics, nor will I frown upon my offspring for doing the same. It’s in their blood. I’d be pissed if they didn’t laugh at ridiculous things from time to time. “That I do, my vivacious little vixen.” I say with a slap to her tight ass. She snickers and starts walking toward the front door, until I pull her back into my arms, purposely making a scene in front of Colt, because unlike me, he acts like he’s too old for public affection. “Come here. How about you and me take a walk?”
“A walk?” Miranda asks. “It’s freezing.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper against her ear. “I’ll keep you nice and toasty.”
I throw Colt a wink before we disappear in the dark distance. I happen to know for a fact that my cousin has his own plans, and hearing Colt and Savanna getting it on in the bathroom isn’t my idea of a fun Christmas Eve. Besides, it sort of made me jealous. If he’s getting ass, then so will I.
I’m surprised we make it halfway down the dirt lane in the pitch black before she stops and demands to know where I’m taking her. “Tyler Mitchell, I’m not moving another inch until you start talking. Where are we going?”
I rub both of her arms, while my vision adjusts enough to see her gazing at me. “Worried I’m going to kill you in these woods where no one will find the body?”
She shoves me like she’s annoyed, turns around and starts walking in the direction of the cabin. “I’m not playing games in this weather. If you haven’t noticed, I’m too damn old for your crap, and good luck trying to murder me in the woods. I’ll come back and haunt your ass forever.”
“I was kidding. I’d miss the sex too much.” I catch up to her easily, forcing her to halt. “Come on, trust me. I have an idea. The north barn has a woodstove.”
“The barn where they keep the newborn livestock?”
I nod. “Yeah. So?”
“Ty, it stinks in there.”
I keep tugging her along. “It’ll be fine. I know where Colt keeps the stash of Menthol Eucalyptus.”
Miranda begins to mumble something about Colt and I being the only cattle ranchers who can’t handle the stink. That’s not the truth. Just because we rub a little Vick’s under our noses doesn’t mean we haven’t smelled our fair share of shit. It’s like having chocolate when you take a crap. You don’t need it, or want it, but it’s a surprising little treat during the most relaxing time of the day. Okay, maybe that’s not the kind of comparison a normal person would think of, but it’s mine and I’m sticking to it.
“Do you seriously think I’ll be okay with putting a little bit of Vick’s under my nose and pretending I’m not surrounded by farm animals?”
Laughter escapes me, echoing off the dense trees. “Have you met our family? There’s really not much difference. Don’t you remember when the twins went through that phase where they refused to get baths? I think they might have been around eight. They had the whole house smelling like feces. It was awful.”
“Trust me, I’m the one who had to pick up and wash their crusty clothes. I still have nightmares about the things I found in their room.”
I take her hand and squeeze it. “If we can make it through that, then you shouldn’t have a problem giving me a good twenty minutes of your time. Drastic times call for desperate circumstances, baby. It’s been a week since you gave me any ass. My meat is starting to dry out. Next thing you know you’ll be dealing with shriveled dick jerky.”
“Shriveled dick jerky?” She stops walking again, hunches over and falls into a fit of giggling. “Dick jerky. Only you, Ty. You’re so stupid.”
“Hey, I call it like it is. Just this morning I had it in my hand and noticed it was shriveling.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s always been that way.”
I playfully shove her. “Hey now! You know I’m sensitive when it comes to my jewels.”
She takes off while spewing more pride killers geared toward my malnourished genitals. “You’re not getting anywhere near me with a shriveled jerky dick. I’m out of here.”
My wife may be a lot of things, but she’s never been very fast, not compared to me. Years of working outdoors on the ranch have left me physically fit, while she stands on her feet and cuts hair all day. I give her a head start, just to appease the effort, then pounce.
I take her down on the side of the snow filled path. The moment we hit the ground every bone in my body reminds me we’re not young anymore. I turn on my back as the aches overwhelm me. “Oh shit. That was dumb.”
Miranda is hovering above me, her white teeth shining in the darkness. “What happened?”
“I’m old. That’s what happened.”
She slaps me playfully on the chest. “Quit playing around. It’s freezing. You’re going to get us all wet.”
When she starts to get up, I grab her coat and pull her back down on top of me. “Hold on there, woman. What’s wrong with making you wet?”
“Ty, seriously, quit playing around. I don’t feel like getting frost bitten.”
She helps me get to my feet before brushing the extra snow off of her legs and butt. Once she’s finished, I take her into my arms as a gust of wind knocks some snow down overtop of us. Our eyes meet, and suddenly all jokes have been forgotten. It’s just us, me and my still beautiful wife, standing alone in the dead of winter on Christmas Eve. “I remember a time when we had to hide our love.”
“Oh,” she leads. “I get where this is going.”
“No you don’t,” I slyly respond. “I’m being serious.”
“You don’t know how to be serious, my dear.”
Our fingers lace together tighter, my lips coming forward to rest upon her forehead. “I’ve always been serious about loving you, Miranda. Always. You’re my rock.” I pause for a moment and find myself struggling to zip it. “Plus your ass still looks amazingly scrumptious in a pair of jeans, or in nothing at all, and sometimes you let me stick things in it, particularly…”
She pushes me away. “See what I mean?”
Miranda begins walking back toward the cabin. I cross my arms and watch her, sighing when I realize I’m losing this battle to get some alone time with my wife. “Don’t you miss sneaking around? Getting lost in the moment? Can’t we just pretend to be young again?”
She stops in her tracks, spinning around to face me. About a hundred feet apart, she begins breaking the distance that separates us. I keep my arms crossed, not sure how this will pan out. Miranda likes to keep me second guessing, and she knows she has my undivided attention.
“Want to relive your youth, Ty?”
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
She’s unzipping her coat. “Close your eyes.”
“Hell no!” I argue.
“Do it, or I’ll change my mind.”
A heavy sigh withdraws while I do as I’m told. “Fine.” Assuming she’ll soon be back in my arms, I let my hands fall at my sides and await to hold that body I’ve memorized and appreciated for so many years.
It’s quiet, the snow preventing nature from making much sound. I can hear her feet approaching, and then speeding up. As she passes she makes another order. “Keep them shut and count to twenty. Then come find me.”
My heart beats faster as I listen to her boots disappearing in the distance. I forget to count because my mind wanders off to what she could possibly be up to. My anticipation gets the best of me, my eyes move in the direction of where I think she’s headed. It’s too dark to see her figure, but she’s left me clu
es. Her coat lies a few feet in front of me. A little further I see her gloves. While hurrying to find her, I come up with her hat, and then surprisingly her sweater. When the barn comes into view I see a tank top, and then a bra before entering.
The barn is quiet, but a dim light shines down from the second floor tack room. I can hear shuffling as I begin to climb the wooden stairs. A pair of boots are sitting in front of the door. “I know you’re in there,” I announce while wiggling from my coat.
My shirt finds the floor the second I open the old creaky door and scan the area for my wife. She’s sitting in the corner of the room, positioned on a saddle that hasn’t been used in years. I know, because I helped hang it on the wall for decoration.
“Howdy, partner. I was wondering if you’d like to help me off this sturdy, hard, leather saddle.” She’s rubbing the material between her legs as she speaks, though my attention is in all the other places without clothing.
“I’d be glad to help, but it seems like you also forgot to remove those panties.”
She shrugs as I get closer. “I figured you’d like to do it.”
Taking her by the hand, I lift her to stand in front of me, catching her by the small of her waist. We kiss slowly, but as my hands glide across her exposed skin I realize she’s freezing. Goose bumps cover her body, and her lips tremble as I graze over them. “You’re cold.”
“So warm me up. Isn’t this what you want? Have you forgotten how to make it happen?”
I twist her around, bending her over a stacked pile of feed pellets. “Oh, don’t you worry. It’s like riding a bike. I’m a fucking pro. I was born to do this.” I slap her ass while tugging her panties off the cheeks. “I’m going to show you just how bad I want it.”
Then she’s laughing at me, so much I’m distracted. She turns, leaning against the feed to stare me in the face. “Sorry.”
“Dude, you’re ruining the moment.”
“I’m naked in a barn, Ty. I’m a grandmother, naked in a damn barn. This is crazy.”
“Oh yeah? You know what’s crazy? Thinking about being a grandmother fucker really turns me on.”
O Little Town of Mitchellville Page 7