Page 6 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“He’s got this beautiful home, Mom. And this big workshop, like a warehouse, where he makes saddles—Trevor told me that they sell for thousands of dollars. He showed us the different forms and machines he uses, and the different parts of the saddle. And we got to see the leathers that people can choose from—not just cowhide, but bison and elk and antelope, even ostrich.”

“I hope you did some work for him.” Ruth spoke in a flat tone, as if she were reading aloud from a seventh-grade history book.

“We did. We carried a ton of stuff out of his storeroom—not just ordinary junk, but cool things he’d taken in trade—like this huge stuffed buffalo head. He offered to pay us, but we said we wouldn’t take money. Instead, he’s going to let us rebuild the harness from last year’s Santa sleigh. The old one’s falling apart. He says it wouldn’t be safe to use it on the horses.”

Ruth took a moment to let the words sink in. “So . . . you and Trevor will be going back?”

“Uh-huh. He said he’d cut the leather for the new straps, and we could start work the week of Thanksgiving break. If you don’t have time to take me, don’t worry. I’ll figure out a way. I can always ride my bike if the weather isn’t too bad.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, son? I mean, Mr. Rankin has his own work to do.”

“We know that. But we’ll be doing most of the work ourselves. He’s going to show us how, and then we’ll be on our own. Don’t worry, Mom. Judd made it clear that he doesn’t have time to babysit us.”

“So now you’re calling him by his first name?”

“He asked us to.”

Ruth felt her stomach clench. Her son might not know the truth about Judd, but the situation was already getting out of control. If she took a stand and forbade him to go back to the ranch, he would want to know why. And she knew better than to lie to him. Skip didn’t deserve to be treated like a child.

She held her tongue for the moment, fearing that anything she said about Judd might reveal too much.

“I can tell you’re worried, Mom,” he said. “But Judd Rankin is a good man. Trevor’s folks know him. So does Abner. And his saddles are famous. He’s made them for athletes and movie stars and for horse competitions. This year’s champion cutting horse wore one of his custom saddles.”

“Then I have a different question for you,” Ruth said, hoping to change the subject. “Who put you in charge of making sure the harness was ready for the parade?”

He frowned, then shrugged. “I guess we put ourselves in charge. Nobody on the parade committee has said anything about it. They must’ve assumed the harness would be with the sleigh at Abner’s place. We didn’t think of it either until Trevor found the harness in Judd’s storeroom.”

“What about Maggie? Surely, she’d have remembered where it was. Wasn’t she the one who organized the first parade last year?”

“She was. And she did a great job, starting a petition for the parade and getting people to help. But the Branding Iron Events Committee’s taken it over this year. They didn’t even include her. Maggie hasn’t said much about it, but I think her feelings were hurt.”

“But her dad’s the mayor. Couldn’t he just put her on the committee?”

“Big Sam wouldn’t do that. And I don’t think Maggie would want him to. But when we get the harness farther along, and if Judd doesn’t mind, we might ask her to come and help us. That way, Maggie won’t feel left out.”

Ruth sighed. The conversation had circled back to the subject she’d done her best to avoid. “All right, Skip. If you’ve made up your mind to do this, it’s fine. Just don’t get carried away. Fix the harness and be done with it. Mr. Rankin isn’t there to be your friend. He has work to do and a business to run. The less you interfere with his time, the better. Understand?”

“I do. And you don’t need to worry, Mom. I’ve grown up, and I’m not looking for a father figure.”

Ruth’s pulse slammed. She swerved the car slightly, righted it, and pretended to laugh. “Father figure? Where did you learn that expression? Was it in that psychology class you’re taking?”

“No, I think it came from some stupid sitcom on TV.”

“Well, never mind.” Ruth changed the subject again. “I need to stop talking and pay more attention to my driving. I’d planned to look in on Abner today. He’s alone in that big old house and not getting any younger. Now look what I’ve done. I’ve missed the turnoff to his place.”

“We’re going to Abner’s?” Janeen had popped awake in the back seat. “Can we come in with you? We can give him some of our cookies.”

“We’ll see. I don’t want to bother him if he’s napping. But first I’ll have to turn this car around.” Ruth slowed down, pulled off the road, and checked for oncoming traffic before she swung the station wagon around and headed back the other way.

Abner Jenkins, an aging widower, had been a godsend to her family after Ed’s arrest. He’d given Ruth and her children a roof over their heads while she found a new place to live. In the interim he’d become like a grandfather to Skip and her girls. He’d befriended Trevor and Maggie as well. And he’d won the hearts of Branding Iron as Santa in last year’s Christmas parade.

As Ruth pulled up to the old two-story farmhouse, Abner came out onto the porch. A big man, portly enough to wear the Santa suit without padding, he leaned on a cane as he walked. Butch, his shaggy brown mutt, bounded across the yard. The girls, who’d climbed out of the car, squealed with laughter as the dog licked their faces.

“Hey, Abner, we brought you some cookies!” Keeping a grip on the plastic bowl, Janeen broke away from the dog and raced toward the porch. “See?” She opened the lid. “Maggie helped us make these, and she showed us how, so we can make them at home. You can have all you want.”

Abner helped himself to a cookie. “Yum, chocolate chip. My favorite. I’ll just have a few of these. You can take the rest home.”

“I’ll put some on a plate for you.” She hurried past him into the house with her sister trailing behind. Ruth and Skip climbed out of the station wagon and followed them onto the porch, a chilly wind whipping at their coats.

---