The Christmas Pony

by Melody Carlson

  Mama’s face was full of wonder. “Who is that and what’s going on?”

  Lucy grabbed Mama’s hand. “Come and see.”

  “Merry Christmas,” George said as he hopped out of the car.

  “Is that our old car?” Mama asked with wide eyes.

  “And it runs, Mama!” Lucy pulled her over to the passenger side. “Get in! George will take you for a ride.”

  “Just a minute.” Mama held up her hands with a troubled look. “I have some questions first.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy felt worried now. “I told George it was all right to work on the car. I didn’t think you’d mind. You’re not mad, are you?”

  Mama shook her head with a perplexed expression. “No, I think it’s just fine—it’s wonderful—that George fixed our car.” She looked at him with glistening eyes. “Thank you very much, George.”

  “Then what is it?” Lucy demanded

  Mama pointed back to the barn. “Have you been in the barn this morning, Lucy?”

  “No, but I did feed the chickens. Do you want me to bring in some wood and—”

  “That’s not what I meant, Lucy.” Mama glanced at George. “I just wondered if you’d gone into the barn at all.”

  “No, Mama.” Lucy was confused now.

  “Maybe you should.”

  Lucy nodded. “All right. I can do that. But will you go for a ride with George now? He really wants to show you how the car is working so nicely, don’t you, George?”

  He grinned. “I most certainly do.” He made a slight bow in front of Mama. “It would be my pleasure. That is, if you would care to join me, Miriam.”

  Mama looked from George to Lucy, then smiled. “I would love to take a ride with you, George.”

  Lucy felt a wave of relief rushing through her. “Good. I’ll go to the barn,” she promised. She watched as George helped Mama into the car, then got in and drove slowly down the driveway toward the road.

  Confused as to why Mama wanted her to go to the barn, Lucy trudged across the yard again and slid open the big door. Mama had already started a fire in the stove, but it didn’t look as if she was doing any laundry this morning. Why should she do laundry on Christmas morning? Lucy was about to leave when she heard a shuffling sound. She jumped. What was that? Had a wild animal gotten trapped in here somehow? Carefully backing toward the door and getting ready to make a run for the house, she heard another sound . . . like a nickering, followed by more shuffling and then a clunk.

  “What?” Lucy stopped backing up and instead walked slowly toward the box stalls in the rear of the barn. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. In fact, it took her breath away. “Smoky!” she cried as she ran to get a better look at the pony. “What are you doing here?”

  He moved his head up and down and let out a little neighing sound as if he was glad to see her, and she let herself into the stall and began to stroke his mane.

  “Oh, Smoky,” she said gently. “How on earth did you get here?” She pressed her face into his neck, smelling his horsey smell and feeling his soft, fuzzy coat against her cheek. Tears of joy filled her eyes. “This really is the best Christmas ever,” she whispered to him. “The best Christmas in the whole wide world.” Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer of thanks to God. He had answered every single one of her Christmas prayers—and then some!

  Now she noticed a bridle hanging on a peg. Over one of the stall walls was a small, nicely worn saddle and blanket. “Come on, Smoky,” she said as she slipped his bridle onto his muzzle. “We should take a little walk.” She thought she remembered how to do this from spending time at Clara’s farm and working with their old, slow plow horses, back before the Saunders family moved away, but it took a few minutes to get it in place and secured.

  Feeling happy and proud, she now led Smoky out of the barn and over to the house. “I’m going to get you a treat,” she told him as she walked him up to the porch and tethered him there. “You be a good boy and wait.”

  She ran into the house and making a frantic attempt to pour out her jumbled story to Grandma, she grabbed an apple from the cooler and was heading back out the door.

  “What on earth?” Grandma stopped her, putting her hand on Lucy’s forehead as if she thought she had a fever.

  “Come and see for yourself,” Lucy called as she dashed back outside to make certain she wasn’t imagining the whole thing. But Smoky was still there, patiently waiting by the porch.

  “My word!” Grandma exclaimed as she came over to peer at the pony.

  “Here you go, Smoky.” Lucy held the apple out in her open palm, grinning at her bewildered grandmother. “See!”

  “What in the world?” Grandma ran her hand down Smoky’s fuzzy back. “Where did that come from?”

  “He was in the barn, Grandma!”

  “But how in tarnation did he get there?”

  “I’m not sure.” Lucy considered this. “There weren’t any tracks in the snow this morning. I know because I was the first one up.” She laughed as she stroked Smoky’s mane. “Maybe Santa Claus brought him.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Well, I’ll be. I’ll be.” She came around to get a better look at Smoky’s face. “I know you’re over the moon about this, Lucy. But what will your mother say?”

  Lucy pointed to where the old Model T was rumbling toward them. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “What?” Grandma pulled her cardigan around her more tightly as she leaned forward to squint at the road. “Who is that?”

  Lucy quickly explained how George had fixed their old car. “It was our secret,” she divulged. “Now George says he might sell his roadster to Mr. Hempley.”

  “Whatever for?” Grandma put her hand to her cheek as if she was completely befuddled.

  Lucy giggled. “Maybe George thinks one car is enough for one family.”

  Grandma’s eyes got very wide now.

  Lucy continued to pet and calm Smoky as the car pulled up and George turned the motor off. Then she and Grandma watched as George helped Mama from the car . . . and they watched as George pulled Mama into his arms . . . and they watched as George kissed Mama—right on the mouth. And they watched, and giggled, as Mama looked at both of them with flushed cheeks and the biggest smile Lucy had ever seen.

  Oh, yes! Lucy knew without the slightest shadow of doubt that this was the very best Christmas ever—the best Christmas in the whole wide world!

  Melody Carlson is the author of more than two hundred books, including fiction, nonfiction, and gift books for adults, young adults, and children. She is also the author of Three Days, The Gift of Christmas Present, The Christmas Bus, An Irish Christmas, All I Have to Give, The Christmas Dog, Christmas at Harrington’s, and The Christmas Shoppe. Her writing has won several awards, including a Gold Medallion for King of the Stable (Crossway, 1998) and a Romance Writers of America Rita Award for Homeward (Multnomah, 1997), and she was nominated for a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in the inspirational market. She lives with her husband in Sisters, Oregon. Visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.

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