“With what? We don’t have time to?—”
“We’ll make it work.” I was already rushing to the barn and the things we’d tossed in the trash, with Carla hurrying behind me. “Hitch the sorhoxes, Ostor. Please.”
“Will do,” he called out.
Inside the function hall, we sorted through the trash, picking out this and that. Then we laid them on the table. We constructed a new set of antlers with a glue gun and shiny fabric and wire and a few plastic ornaments. Then we stood back to look it over.
“Not bad,” Carla said. “A little lopsided, but it’ll do.”
“Lopsided has character.”
“Everything has character according to you.”
“It’s true.”
She smiled at that. “I’m glad we could make something new.”
“That’s what partners are for.” I hadn’t meant to say that. “Professional partners, that is.”
“Right. Professional.”
We rushed back and attached Peeka’s new antlers, and honestly, they looked fine.
But with only minutes before the parade was about to start, everything else that could go wrong did.
Thrakul spooked when someone in the marching band accidentally dropped their huge drum. He reared up and nearly trampled a group of women dressed as elves. They were acrobats who were going to tumble and spin and do cartwheels to the cheers of the crowd.
It took both Carla and me to calm Thrakul down, and even then he remained skittish.
“He’ll be fine once we get moving,” I told her, though I wasn’t entirely certain. “Sorhoxes do better when they’re not standing around waiting.”
“And if he spooks again during the parade?”
“Then we deal with it.”
That’s when I realized I wasn’t wearing the Santa suit. I raced to the changing area inside the function hall, slipping out the back door and running across the open area to reach the sleigh once dressed.
Dungar joined us, peering around at everyone gathered, some stomping their feet to stay warm, the band tuning their instruments.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, finally,” Carla said, pirouetting to show off the elf skirt and top she wore over her regular clothing.
I helped her into the sleigh. Climbing up beside her, I lifted the harness straps and called out to Peeka and Thrakul to settle them. The Santa costume felt odd, especially with the middle stuffed with pillows, but I suspected the children would love it.
“Ho ho ho,” I said under my breath.
“Did you just ho your ho-ho?” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes.
I ho-ho’d again, louder this time.
“That wasn’t half bad.”
“High praise.”
“I’m working up to it.”
Despite everything that had gone wrong, I grinned. We’d pulled together a Christmas parade that would bring joy to the people who’d chosen to spend their holiday with us in Lonesome Creek, and we’d done it together.
