One Tough Christmas Cookie - Lucy McConnell Page 0,96
thought better of just leaving her to fly behind him, and found a long strip of leather, which he tied under her chin. “Don’t want you floating away.” He wasn’t sure how this flying reindeer thing worked, but he’d figure it out.
She came with him, her head moving slowly up and down as she limped through the air.
He retrieved his sled, dragging it behind him. “Do you have a name?” He checked to see if she responded.
She nodded.
“Hmm. I’m not sure how you’re going to tell me. Can I call you Candy?”
She blew out her lips, making the raspberry sound.
He laughed, the sound foreign after so many months of not hearing it. “Dasher? Dancer?”
He went through all the reindeer names he knew before making it to the barn. But once they got there, it became more important to make a bed for the reindeer and get her settled than figuring out her name.
He pulled open one of the stalls in the back. “Will this work?”
She limped inside and inspected every corner before settling against the far wall.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable. I’ll be right back.” He took off for the house, making sure to shut the barn door so she didn’t wander out.
He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and gathered it against his chest. He was almost out the back door when his mom called, “Whoa there, speedy. Whatcha doing?”
Billy turned around and stared at his mom—a big debate happening inside of him. He could tell her a quick fib and be on his way. But when he really looked at her, he saw the worn-down slope of her shoulders and the circles under her eyes. He thought of how he’d laughed and felt happy around Santa’s reindeer, and he wanted to see the light in his mother’s eyes again.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked her.
She cocked her head. “I’m actually a pretty great secret keeper.”
“Follow me.” He motioned for her to follow. She took for-ev-er getting her snow boots on, but they finally made their way out to the barn. At the door, Billy put his finger over his lips. “You have to be quiet—don’t scream.”
Mom grabbed his shoulders. “Billy Edge, please tell me you didn’t trap a coyote in the barn.”
He shrugged off her hold. “No, Mom. She’s not dangerous—but she’s hurt.”
Mom’s forehead wrinkled. Before she could tell him he couldn’t go inside, he pushed the door open wide enough for him and the blanket to fit and then squeezed through. Mom was right behind him, a hand on his shoulder—probably so she could yank him away from whatever was in there.
Billy tried not to shrug her off, because he wanted her to say he could keep the reindeer. He made his way to the last stall, Mom creeping behind him like she was in a Scooby-Doo movie. Moms!
He opened the door, half expecting the reindeer to have disappeared and left behind a pile of glitter. But she was there, looking at him with a lot of curiosity. “I brought you a blanket.” He walked in, holding it out so she could sniff it.
The reindeer turned and looked at Mom, asking him, Who is she?
“That’s my mom, Mitzi. She’s kind of nervous. I told her you wouldn’t hurt us, though.” He turned to face Mom. “It’s one of Santa’s reindeer. I found her in the woods with a sleigh. She’s hurt.” He pointed to her leg.
Mom approached slowly. “Can I look at it?” she asked the reindeer.
She blinked a yes.
Billy hugged the blanket tight as Mom’s hands moved over the leg. When it got to the spot where the leather had wrapped tight, the reindeer sucked in quickly.
Mom yanked her hands back. “Sorry. I know it’s tender, but I need to check for a break.”
Billy watched in awe. “How do you know what to do?”
Mom smiled, a real one with teeth and everything. “I grew up on a farm, silly. We had to know all sorts of things about animals.” Somehow, she looked younger when she talked about growing up in North Dakota. She used to tell him stories all the time about her horse Buttercup, but she hadn’t in a long time. He missed those stories. “Hold her harness for me, would you? I don’t want her thrashing while I probe the bone.”
Billy did as he was told. “Hold still now. Mom’s good at fixing things. I had a cut once, right here.” He pointed to his head. “She used glue to