With a nod, Bill swung open the broad, red-painted, snow-speckled barn door, letting Ty and Cinders at last into the warmth and the golden light that seemed to swirl in a circle, reflecting against the hay in the loft.
In the midst of the open area of the barn, there was a man sitting in a folding chair around a rustic-looking hand-forged iron fire pit, whose metal sides were cut with stars and quarter moons, and through which firelight flickered. Beneath the fire pit was a sturdy base made of thick red flagstones, and nearby was a hand-held fire extinguisher, just in case.
“Hello,” said a thin, scholarly looking man with ginger hair and a warm smile. “I’m Austin and you must be the delivery driver that Santa sent.”
Again, the secret code became quite clear to Ty and, just as another man came around the corner with a young girl in tow, Ty knew what he needed to do.
Christmas had never been big between him and his Dad,though they were never short of affection for each other, so as he opened his mouth, he felt like he was about to step right inside one of those sappy, sweet Hallmark commercials.
“I’m Ty,” he said, gesturing to himself and then to the pony. “And this is Cinders.”
The young girl, Bea, it must be, let go of the cowboy-looking fellow, who had blond hair and a broad, cherry-cheeked smile, and raced around the fire pit.
She opened her mouth as if to let out a shriek of joy, and Cinder’s whole body tightened, as if ready for an onslaught, inadvertently overwhelmed, it must seem, at having a stranger rushing at her. Then Bea stopped, clasping her hands together in front of her, looking at Bill, eyes wide, as if waiting for a signal.
“That’s right, Bea,” said Bill. “Nice and slow, now, that’s the way.” Bill looked at Ty and gave him a short, quick nod, as if giving Ty the signal to begin.
“Hey there, Bea,” said Ty, as earnestly as he could. “It was snowing pretty hard near the Colorado border, and as I was driving north, that’s when Santa flagged me down. Said he needed my help delivering Cinders here, otherwise, all the other children in this part of the world would get their presents late. Normally I don’t stop along my route, but of course I said yes, because, you know, it was Santa.”
“Santa sent you?” asked Bea, her green eyes wide as she swept a lock of strawberry blond hair away from her face. “Was he wearing his red coat? Was he jolly? Did he get my letter?”
Now Ty was a little out of his depth. He knew about Christmas, sure he did, but it seemed a long time ago that he’d ever written to Santa or wondered whether he was truly as jolly as the images of him seemed to imply. Still, he needed to go on with what he started.
“Well, I could see he was jolly, and I didn’t have time to ask him about your letter, but he was wearing his red coat and hatand all. And the reindeer? They were a lot bigger than you’d think.”
“They have to be big to pull that sleigh everywhere,” said Bea, a wise look on her face.
“Hi, I’m Clay,” said the blonde cowboy as he came up to Ty to shake hands. Ty whipped off one of his gloves and then the other, tucked them beneath his arm and shook hands. “Should I take her?” Clay asked, then he looked over his shoulder at Bea. “Or do you want to, honeybee?”
This was a well-loved child, that was for certain, and at her solemn nod and wide-eyed appreciation as she walked all the way up to Cinders, Ty decided that she deserved the pony that she approached with such pleasure and careful slowness. She reached out and patted Cinders gently, then pulled off the wolf-patterned throw.
“This is wet,” she said, wrinkling her small nose.
“I didn’t want her ears to get cold,” said Ty.
She nodded, tugging on the straps to the blanket Cinders was wearing as Bill handed her a chamois cloth.
“Let your dad help you,” said Bill. “That blanket is soaked and sure to be heavy. Those leg wraps are soaked, as well.”
“Clay can help, too,” announced Bea with a firm nod. “I don’t want Daddy Clay to feel left out of my Christmas present.”
Ty handed over the lead to Cinder’s halter to Bill, feeling a little muddled in his head that he couldn’t figure it out.
Bea looked a whole lot like Austin, and not at all like Clay. She had the same slender, serious face as Austin, and though her hair was a lighter ginger color than Austin’s, it was in the same shade. Clay was blond haired and broad across the shoulders, with thick sturdy thighs, whereas Austin and Bea were slender, as though they spent a lot of time indoors.
But he didn’t say anything as he peeled off his knitted cap and damp down vest, beneath which his thick wool shirt was just on the verge of letting the dampness through.
He wanted a hot shower, in addition to that cup of black coffee, but everybody was busy with Cinders, taking off her blankets and leg wraps, wiping her with chamois cloths. Bill was petting her nose and cooing gently at her, and Bea was as serious as a monk as she wiped her pony down.
He looked around for a place to hang his wet things so by the time he had to head out again, they would at least be mostly dry.
“Here.”
Startled, Ty came out of his slight daze as Austin reached for the down vest.
“Clay’s the horse expert in the family,” said Austin with a smile. “I’m the ranch’s accountant and my experience with horses is sadly limited. Let me hang up your wet things, and you can grab a cup of coffee from Leland’s office.”
Ty knew that Leland was the owner or manager, or something, of the ranch.
