Page 9 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

I introduced myself and discovered that the boy, Jonas, had come to the spectacular with his uncle so he could feed the reindeer. He’d been planning it for weeks.

“Some of my best friends are reindeer, and I know they love carrots.” I told him on Christmas Eve when children left milk and cookies for Santa, the reindeer chowed down on the carrots.

That was a tiny fib. Most reindeer preferred lichen, but they didn’t want to disappoint the world’s children, so they gobbled the carrots.

“They do?” He sniffed. “But why aren’t they here? Just one reindeer.”

“Maybe they’re running late.”

Jonas’s face brightened. “You think so?” He shook his uncle’s hand and repeated, “The reindeer’s coming.”

“Jonas—” his uncle began.

I avoided the uncle’s glare. If I’d been him, I’d have been furious at me getting the boy’s hopes up.

“I’m going to get that reindeer right now.” I got up, wondering how far away I’d have to go to shift.

My beast squeed because he was never around a lot of people, and he so wanted to meet Santa.

“Keep an eye on Santa’s house and I guarantee one reindeer is on the way.”

Jonas clutched the carrot and dragged his uncle closer to the house.

I scurried around groups of people and pretended I didn’t hear when one of the committee members yelled my name. Running past the parking lot, I headed for a group of trees and squatting down behind bushes, I disrobed and told my beast we were doing this for Jonas.

You are not to preen in front of Santa. The guy was never going to hire my reindeer.

Of course. Jonas.

After giving my reindeer his fur, I told him to go slowly. We didn’t want anyone to get hurt underfoot, especially not a child.

My beast was a total showoff. He pranced along the road, his hooves clacking over the asphalt that had been cleared of snow hours earlier. People walking to and from the center parted, giving him space. There were whispers, “Wows!” and someone mentioned how I’d organized the best spectacle ever.

My beast swayed his butt and bowed his head, showing the crowd his magnificent antlers. I doubted many people here had ever seen a reindeer, so this would be a huge deal to the onlookers.

I told him not to go directly to Jonas, and he was happy to weave between people and pose for photos. He circled Santa’s house, and the kids lined up squealed and shouted, “A reindeer.”

Even Santa paused his gift-giving and eyed my beast. I would let the guy take credit for hiring a reindeer for the afternoon if that was what he wanted. He could be an ass, but he’d turned up and was doing what was expected of him. I didn’t care if he was a butthead.

But I worried that someone from one of the surrounding farms may have a rifle in their truck and take a potshot at me. My beast’s kind were rare around here but reindeer meat was tasty and my reindeer was an easy target.

How do you know that about reindeer meat?

I read it.

The voices quietened as my reindeer walked into the grounds, and Santa sauntered out of his house, his big red belly leading the way, and the elf appeared at his side.

He stroked my beast. “This is my head reindeer who leads the sleigh on Christmas Eve.”

He was playing along for the kids instead of shooing us away or hiding behind the pile of presents.

“Where are you other reindeer?” a man asked.

“They’re busy at the North Pole. I could only spare one today.”

“Look, Uncle. It’s a real live reindeer.” Jonas was standing back in the crowd, waiting his turn. No one else had any suitable reindeer food, and I hoped Santa wouldn’t encourage children to offer my beast cake or mulled wine.

“What do your reindeer like to eat?” another child asked.

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