“Not for me.”
“It’ll make you grumpier!” Benny insisted. “That’s the brand, Grandpa. You’re Grumpy Santa. Own it.”
Red grumbled under his breath but adjusted his hat. Somewhere between late November and now, he’d stopped fighting. The kid was right—his sour mug and deadpan gripes had become the hook. And bookingshadgone up. Snowberry Lodge wasn’t at full capacity, but it wasn’t bleeding red ink either.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get it over with before my arthritis gets arthritis.”
Benny spent a few minutes packing snowballs while Red did his best to calm Copper, who shifted and turned like he wanted it all to be over.
Once Benny had his phone ready, he held up a gloved hand and counted down on his fingers.
“Three…two…one—action!”
Red slouched dramatically on the driver’s bench, the reins slack in his gloved hands.
“Welcome to Santa’s winter fortress,” he started, making his voice extra low and gravelly as he turned to look at the fort. “Marvel at the majestic walls of…slush. Built by overpaid elves who apparently flunked architecture.”
All of a sudden, he felt the cold punch rushing at him, athwumpon his chest, almost hard enough to take his breath away. At least it wasn’t his face.
Red scowled. “And now the elves have resorted to violence. Perfect.”
Benny scrambled, and in seconds, another snowball came flying but it was wider. It missed Red by a few feet but smashed into the crooked wall of the fort, making the structure slump with a satisfyingwhoosh.
Copper jerked at the sound, snorting clouds into the frosty air. His hooves stamped nervously.
“Easy, boy,” Red murmured, tightening the reins.
But Benny was on a roll. He darted closer, heaving another snowball. This one clipped Copper’s flank before exploding in a spray of powder.
The gelding startled hard, jerking sideways.
“Benny!” Red barked, but he had his face in that daggum cell phone!
Copper pranced, muscles bunching. His ears pinned back, and in the next breath, he lunged forward. The sleigh jolted,runners biting into the snowpack. Red clutched the reins with both hands, his stomach dropping.
“Grandpa!”
As Copper surged straight past the fort, Benny managed to scramble up to the bench, barely slinging himself next to Red.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean?—”
“Don’t apologize, just hang on!” Red yanked the reins, but Copper was blind with panic now, his breath pumping white clouds.
He headed straight for the frozen creek.
“No!” Red yanked the reins, but it was a wasted effort. Copper’s hooves thundered, then slammed into the creek bed rocking the sleigh, and making the horse even more frenzied.
With indescribable strength, Copper rose up and stormed forward, banging the sleigh over ice and rocks, bringing it up the slippery banks to the edge of the wide, flat meadow beyond.
“Copper!” Red snapped the reins again, but that merely spurred on the animal.
He tore forward over the untouched crust, with the sleigh bouncing behind him. Benny squealed, clutching Red’s arm.
“Grandpa!”
“Hang on!” Red hollered, using all his strength to yank back the reins. “Just stay low, Benny!”
The meadow spread wide, dazzling white. The runners hit logs and rocks, sliding on icy stones, the old metal tested. Red peered ahead, knowing full well what was at the other end of this stretch—the steep hill, sharp and unforgiving. If Copper didn’t stop, they’d be dragged straight toward it.
