Page 60 of The Sound of Sleighbells

Ruth pushed her purse strap to her shoulder, bent her knees, and wrapped her arms around her daughter. But Tammy was old enough to be heavy. That, and the bulk of their slippery, padded coats made for an awkward lift. Ruth struggled as her daughter urged, “Higher, Mommy! Higher!”

“Could you use a boost?” Judd was beside them. Ruth had no idea how long he’d been there. “How about it?” He held out his hands. Tammy reached for him, leaning away from her mother in complete trust. At Ruth’s nod of consent, he placed his hands under Tammy’s arms and swept her high, onto his shoulder. She giggled as he balanced her in place with one hand.

“So, do you see your brother now?” he asked.

“I can see him. Hi, Skip!” She waved at him. Skip didn’t wave back.

“Down you go, okay?”

“Okay! That was fun!” She let Judd lower her to the ground.

“Lift me, too,” Janeen said.

“Nope. You said that seeing your brother was easy-peasy. Besides, the program’s starting. Let’s be still and listen.”

A hush fell over the crowd as the prerecorded piano music began the introduction to “Silent Night.” Voices joined in the beloved old song. Slowly, the magic began to happen—Christmas lights blurred by falling snowflakes, the sigh of a breeze passing through snowy branches, the fresh scent of pine on the chilly air.

Ruth felt Judd’s presence beside her. They stood without touching, hesitant, questioning. Could this be the beginning they’d both wanted to find?

The concert wasn’t a long one. The young voices, blending beautifully, sang several more traditional Christmas songs. Ruth waited for the closing number she knew was coming—“Candlelight Carol,” by the English composer John Rutter, her favorite.

As the piano introduction began, she felt goose bumps rise on the back of her neck. As the girls’ voices began the first verse, she pictured the wind on the water, the stars in the sky, and candlelight shining on a baby’s cradle. Her eyes misted as the boys’ voices joined in the chorus. Without thinking, she reached for Judd’s hand. Her fingers linked with his and felt the pressure of his big, warm palm, closing around them, holding them tight.

Even after the song ended, he held her hand, letting go only as the students broke ranks to go home.

* * *

Hunched on a bar stool in Rowdy’s Roost, Digger downed the last of his Budweiser and ordered another. Today’s appointment with the parole officer had gone fine. He had lied glibly about looking for an apartment and interviewing for jobs—claimed he would bring signed proof next time. And he’d passed the piss test like a boss.

He deserved a small celebration. But his nerves were jumping like crickets on a hot griddle. Tomorrow was the day of the Christmas parade—the day he would carry out his plan to get Ed’s cocaine stash.

Earlier today he had scoped out the old man’s property. Nothing much had changed, except that there were more people coming and going. Some, like Judd, he recognized. Others were strangers, probably folks involved in tomorrow’s parade.

Then there was that damned monster dog, going in and out of the house, wagging its tail and slobbering on everybody who came. If the beast was so freaking friendly, why wasn’t it friendly with him?

Sipping the second beer, he went over the mental list he’d made.

The parade was scheduled to start at ten. By then, everybody would be in town. The coast would be clear, but in case anybody drove by, he would hide his bike in the ditch above the road and walk down to the property. There would be plenty of tracks in the snow. One more set wouldn’t be noticed.

The dog would be home, but with luck it would be locked in the house. If not, he’d bagged a hunk of leftover steak with a nice bone in it that should keep the stupid animal busy long enough for him to get what he wanted.

Digger had debated taking a gun and decided against it. If he were unlucky enough to be caught, he could be charged with armed robbery. The risk wasn’t worth it—not even if he needed to protect himself from the dog. He did have a switchblade, but with luck there’d be no call to use it.

Today he’d seen people going in and out of the barn without having to lock or unlock either of the doors. Maybe there was something inside that was needed for the parade. Just as a backup, he’d carry a small crowbar on the bike. But the less evidence of forced entry he left behind, the better.

What if the stash was already gone? What if somebody had found it, or that bastard Ed had lied to him?

Never mind. He wouldn’t think about that now. Get in, get the goods, and get out. That would be his focus.

But heaven help anybody who showed up and tried to stop him.

Chapter Fourteen

Thanks mostly to Abner’s performance, Santa and his sleigh had become the highlight of the annual Christmas parade. The floats might be tacky, the music sour, the marchers out of step, and the visiting dignitaries a bore, but the Branding Iron Santa was first-rate—simply the best. To the children who waited, watched, and cheered, this Santa was absolutely real—not just because Abner was round and jolly by nature, but because the loving spirit that surrounded him like an aura wasn’t an act. It was genuine.

The magic that helped Abner become Santa involved the work of a dedicated behind-the-scenes team. Everything had been carefully planned. Early on the morning of the parade, the sleigh would be mounted on a flatbed trailer and hauled by city employees to the high school athletic field, where the parade would form up. The bed of the sleigh would be padded with quilts and cushions and loaded with bags of wrapped candies for Santa to toss to the children.

The horses—powerful animals of unknown lineage—belonged to Cooper Chapman. With their shaggy coats groomed to shine like polished brass, they would be loaded into Cooper’s horse trailer and hauled to the parade ground. Cooper and Judd Rankin would buckle the horses into their new harness, drape them with strings of jingling bells, and hitch them to the sleigh. Judd had agreed to drive the team in the parade.

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