Page 70 of Mistletoe and Mischief

Linc slammed on the brakes. The three of them jerked forward and just as abruptly were hurled back. If not for the seat belts, they would’ve been thrown headfirst into the windshield.

“Hey!” Mel roared.

“Maybe don’t stopquiteso suddenly,” Ned added in a voice that was considerably less hostile.

“Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mel cocked his head toward the sky. “Okay, continue down this road.” Mercifully it was flat and straight.

“Here,” Ned said a minute later.

Once more Linc slammed on the brakes, only this time his brothers were prepared and had braced themselves.

“Look!” Ned shouted. “This is it. We’re here!”

Linc didn’t know what he was talking about. “We’re where?”

“The Harding ranch,” Mel answered.

Then Linc saw. There, painted on the rural route box, was the name Cliff Harding. To his left was a pasture and a large barn.

“I think I see a camel,” Linc said. He’d heard about people raising llamas before but not camels.

“Are you sure?” Ned mumbled. “Maybe it’s just an ugly horse.”

“A camel? No way,” Mel insisted.

“I say it’s a camel.” Linc wondered if his brother’s argumentative nature had something to do with being a middle child. Ned, as the youngest, was usually the reasonable one, the conciliator. Whereas he—

“Acamel?” Mel repeated in an aggressive tone. “What would a camel be doing here?”

“Does it matter?” Ned broke in. “This is where Mary Jo’s waiting for us.”

“Right.” Linc turned into the long driveway that led to the house and barn. The fireworks had stopped, but some kind of party seemed to be taking place, because the yard was filled with people. There was a bunch of little kids running around and the atmosphere was festive and excited.

“There’s an aid car here.” Ned gestured urgently in its direction.

“Do you think someone’s hurt?” Mel asked.

“No,” Linc said slowly, thoughtfully. This was what he’d feared from the first. The minute he’d heard about Mary Jo’s dizzy spell he’d suspected she was about to give birth. “I think Mary Jo might have had her baby.”

“But she isn’t due for another two weeks,” Mel declared.

Ned opened the truck door. “Instead of discussing it, let’s go find out.”

A middle-aged woman approached as Linc got out of the truck. “You must be Mary Jo’s brothers,” she said. “I’m Grace Harding. Merry Christmas!”

The woman looked friendly, and Linc appreciated the pleasant greeting. “Merry Christmas to you, too. Sorry for the delay....”

“We got lost.”

How helpful of Mel to point out the obvious.

“Some guy named King gave us the wrong directions.”

“King’s Gas and Grocery?” A man came up to them, extending his hand. “Cliff Harding.”

“That’s the one,” Ned answered.

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