Page 24 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“Hello, Ruth.” The gritty voice was even more familiar than the battered, bewhiskered face. She and Judd had spent enough time with Digger to embed him like a splinter in her memory. Back then, they’d been friends. But looking at him now, it wasn’t friendship she felt. It was more like dread.

Instinctively, she pulled her daughters against her coat.

“Hello, Digger,” she said. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing back in Branding Iron?”

“Just passing through. Judd’s letting me bunk at his place for a few nights while I make some plans. I thought that might be you this morning, driving up to the house to let that boy off. Is he your son?”

“Yes, by my first husband.” Ruth struggled to keep her voice from quivering. Digger had been in the hospital, recovering from head injuries, when she’d left Branding Iron. He wouldn’t have known about her pregnancy, but he’d been aware that she and Judd were intimate. Now his big mouth could cause serious damage. The worst of it was, he was staying with Judd while Skip was working there. Alarms were going off in her head, but there was nothing she could do.

“You’ve cut your long hair, Ruth,” he said. “I always thought it was so pretty.”

“We all grow up,” she said. “We all change. Right now, I need to get home. The girls and I were just leaving.”

“Mom!” Janeen wailed in protest as Ruth gripped her hand and tugged her away from the tree. “You said we could stay!”

“Not now. We can come back tomorrow.” Ruth quickened her step, pulling her girls along with her. Tammy had begun to cry. She howled, turning heads all the way to the car.

As she helped the girls into their booster seats, Ruth glanced back toward the park, fearing that Digger might be following her. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Her hands kept a death grip on the steering wheel all the way home—not because she feared any physical danger from Digger, but because he knew enough to upend her precious family. Skip’s birth date and his resemblance to Judd were like two disconnected pieces of a puzzle. If Skip were to learn that she and Judd had been lovers before Judd’s arrest, the pieces would fall into place, and he would know that he’d been lied to all his life—this when he already carried more burdens than a teenage boy should have to bear.

Judd would be affected, too, and he would no doubt be angry with her. But that was the least of her worries. Her first concern had to be protecting her son.

Judd had offered to bring Skip home at the end of the day. That would be the time to pull him aside for a private talk. But what would she say? How much should she tell him?

“Who was that man in the park, Mom?” Janeen asked. “I could tell you didn’t like him.”

“I was surprised. That was all, honey,” Ruth said. “I knew him a long time ago, when I was in high school. Hey, let’s listen to some Christmas music!” She switched on the car radio and dialed up the volume. The mellow voice of Gene Autry singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” filled the station wagon.

They sang along all the way home.

* * *

Judd laid aside the piece of hand-tooled leather skirting and paused to rest his eyes. Creating a custom saddle involved a lot of close work, and he wasn’t getting any younger. By this time next year, he’d probably be due for eyeglasses.

His gaze found Skip, measuring a length of harness strap at the other end of the workshop. By now, it was late afternoon. The boy had worked steadily through the day, barely stopping at lunchtime to grab a sandwich and Coke from the fridge. He was getting more done alone than he and Trevor had accomplished as a team.

And, judging by what Judd had seen of it, Skip was doing good quality work—the cuts precise and even, the strap edges smooth, the placement of holes and buckles exactly matching the old pieces. It was too soon, certainly, to say that Ruth’s son possessed a talent for this kind of work. But Judd couldn’t have been more pleased with him.

The one task Skip had yet to do was the machine stitching. The heavy-duty sewing machine, its steel needles made to pierce layers of tough leather, was similar to the ones sold for shoe repair. Operating it was tricky and could even be dangerous.

Skip had cut a leather strap to fit a brass buckle. With the buckle in place, the cut end needed to be glued down with rubber cement to hold it, then stitched.

“If your mother uses a sewing machine, it works about the same way,” he said as Skip sat down at the machine table. “Just take it slow and be careful.” Judd guided the strap into place and lowered the presser foot. “Now hold it steady with one hand and turn the wheel with the other. That’s it. Now put it in reverse and go back the other way. Good. Let’s call it a day. You can do the other side tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Skip asked. “I could stay longer if you’ll let me. This isn’t work—I’m having a good time.”

Judd had heard Digger’s bike come back around noon. His unwelcome guest had probably gone to sleep in the bunkhouse. But he could show up at any time, touching off another awkward encounter.

“If I don’t get you home, your mother will worry,” Judd said. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Skip sighed. “Okay. I’ll get my coat.”

As he turned away, he noticed the hand-tooled skirting piece, with its design of cactus flowers, lying on the workbench. “Wow! Did you do that?” he asked. “It’s cool!”

“I did the tooling,” Judd said, “but the pattern came from a book. If we have time tomorrow, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Thanks. That would be great.” He went to get his coat, which he’d left on a chair. Judd took a moment to pick up his phone to check for voice messages. He was hoping to hear from the sheriff, but there was nothing.

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