Page 10 of The Santa of the Mountain

“Yeah, I used the wrong eggs, and next thing you know, everything that could?—”

“Wow, I’m so excited to go on this sleigh ride with you,” I not-so-elegantly redirect, but I’m over the oversharing. I know more about this man’s medical history than mine.

“I have another surprise too.”

Add surprises to the list of things I’ll be giving up in the new year.

“But I don’t want to spoil it.”

Okay… What time is it again? It feels like I’ve lived an entire lifetime today, but I have a feeling I’m about to live another.

“He’s a great horse, Rudolph,”Hank says, giving theextremelylarge horse a few stiff pats on its thick neck.

“What kind of horse is he again?” I say, swallowing hard as I stare at the behemoth.

“Clydesdale,” he says, stroking his gray, grizzled beard. “He’s a bit of a runt, but he’s lived longer than any of his kin.” He gives Rudolph a few more pats and then shoves his face into his shoulder. “You’re an old man now, aren’t you?”

“Pulling us won’t be too hard on him?”

“Oh, no,” Hank says. “This is Rudolph’s favorite time of year. Loves pulling sleighs. He’d do it year-round if he could.” A few more pats. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I untacked him. Couldn’t think of a better horse for you two.”

I’m a little more relieved. I went on a sleigh ride earlier this week with Pearl and Henry. Well, I watched them. I wasn’t about to be the third wheel on that excursion. But when they came back, Henry whisked Pearl back to the hotel because she felt ill from the movement and the smell of… well, the horse’snormalbodily functions.

I’m not exactly looking forward to this but I don’t mind trying. Besides, Hank seems like an interesting character, and I wouldn’t mind having someone else to help break up all the Christmas talk.

“Well,” Hank says, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Evan steps forward, shaking Hank’s hand. “Thanks again.”

“Wait, what?” I ask the air because Hank’s leaving and Evan’s hopping into the sleigh.

“A word of warning,” Hank says, turning back to us. “Rudolph’s as brave as they come. Stared down a pack of wolves a few years back. But if he catches sight of a chipmunk, rabbit, or well…” Hank scratches his head. “Any small woodland critter, he takes off with a fright. But you know what to do, don’t you, Evan?”

“That I do, Hank. That I do.”

ButIdon’t. Before I have the chance to figure out this esoteric knowledge, Hank turns around and trudges back to the stables, whistlingLet it Snow.

“Surprise!” Evan says, extending a gloved hand to me. “Slipped him a hundred bucks to let me do this. We’re going to have a great time.”

The nervous energy collecting in my stomach and chest disagrees. He helps me inside the ruby-red sleigh as I once again tell myself that it couldn’t possibly get any worse. But that’s quickly dashed when the sleigh lurches from a dead stop and then breaks hard, flinging me into the front of the sleigh.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m a little rusty, and I’m not familiar with Rudolph. We’ll work out the kinks, won’t we boy?”

Wouldn’t it have been nice to have someone who does this for a living and more than a decade of experience with this particular horse guide our sleigh? Too much to ask, huh?

“Youhavedone this before, right?” I gust out, dusting myself off.

“Of course,” he says, gently tugging the reins.

I sigh, glancing around as Rudolph slows his pace, and I can’t be sure what time of day it is because it has been nothing but dull gray since this morning. Timehaspassed though, right? I pinch myself, wondering if I’m inside the most realistic nightmare, aGroundhog’s Daytime loop, or some other phenomena but the sharp pain is enough to disabuse me of that notion.

And if that wasn’t enough, Evan, out of thin air, yet again, whips out a Bluetooth speaker. HisinfamousChristmas masterpiece slithers into my ear canals like a funnel filled with broken glass, jagged candy canes, and tears shed for what Christmas this year could have been.

“Areyou sure you don’t want any of the eggnog?” Evan asks me as he offers me a cup.

I’d expect there to be steam coming from it but there isn’t. A cool cup of eggnog is not exactly what I’m looking for in this kind of weather. “I think I’ll pass.”

He shrugs, takes a big sip, and thenchews.

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