“I have a bunch of ideas,” replied Pax. “Hot air balloons would make the sleigh lighter, so they’d need fewer reindeer to pull it. I need to talk to Ginger about the route they take–we could have smaller sleighs pulled by one reindeer in key places to switch out.”
“Like a relay?” Natasha asked. She scooped up some mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a little stuffing all in one bite.
Pax nodded, sipping his drink. He cut his cooked carrots into smaller pieces. “We could even add an engine for an extra boost.”
Drake stilled, his head lifting as he stared at Jax. “For Santa? You’re talking about adding an engine of some kind to Santa’s sleigh? Why?”
On the other side of Ryder, Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “We need to look for alternatives. The reindeer aren’t going to work forever.”
Drake’s blood ran cold. A three-year drought was a long one–the longest the ranch had ever seen. And the dwindling numbers for five years before that didn’t help. Not to mention, only one of the fliers they’d trained qualified for Santa’s sleigh, and that reindeer had been born blind and needed corrective surgery to get there. He knew they were in a desperate place, but engines? Smaller sleighs? “Are you losing faith in Christmas?” he asked.
Jack leaned forward so he could join in the conversation. He wore his most annoying I’m -older-than-you-and-therefore-know-more-about-this look. “If the last three years are any indication, we’re on borrowed time as it is.”
Natasha nodded her head in the way reporters do to keep people talking.
Drake took in the faces around the table to see who agreed with Jack and who did not. Most of them stared down at their plates, their appetites forgotten. It was a grim sight.
Mom’s lips drew a straight line. She picked up her napkin and ran her hands along the edges over and over. “I don’t like talking about this at Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to be sharing what we’re grateful for.”
Dad placed his hand on hers in a sign of support. “Agreed.”
Forest cleared his throat. He wore a dark green sweater that matched Mitzi’s plaid flannel shirt and their children’s shirts, as well. They were the picture of a perfect family. He took Mitzi’s hand under the table, and they exchanged a meaningful look. “We have to consider the fact that the magic might have died out–I’m grateful I grew up with it, though. It was a wonderful way to spend my childhood.”
Mom lightly smacked the table and mock glared at him as if he were in serious trouble. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Love softened her chastisement in her eyes.
Forest grinned sheepishly. “I know. But you raised us to face things head-on, and after talking with Faith, I can’t see another way.”
All heads swiveled to the opposite end of the table where Faith sat between her father, Doc, and Caleb. Doc had been their veterinarian for over thirty years–right up until a heart attack stopped him in his tracks, and Faith had to take over his practice. She didn’t believe in Christmas or Santa back then, which made it difficult for Caleb to explain flying reindeer. The rest, as they say, went down in history as she and Caleb were happily building a family together.
The group of wranglers did not intimidate Faith. She swiped her lips with her napkin and then laid it on her lap. “I wasn’t going to tell you over dinner.” She shot Jack an annoyed look. “But it’s true. There’s no genetic way for any reindeer on the ranch to produce a flier. We’re out of magic.”
Mom gasped. Dad sat taller. Doc grumbled to himself and swiped his mouth with his napkin. Aspen started to cry and Mitzi lifted her out of the highchair and stood to sooth her with a soft bouncing. Drake gulped. “That’s not possible.” He tore his roll in two and shoved one half in his mouth to keep from yelling his thoughts across their Thanksgiving feast.
“Should we call Ginger?” Mom asked Dad. Ginger was the Santa in residence at the North Pole.
Dad frowned, making his beard droop.
Drake waited for someone to bring up the Montana reindeer again–even though they hadn’t heard from the woman since she blocked Dad’s number. He hadn’t tried to call her again. She was as firm as he would be if someone wanted to buy one of their reindeer. It wasn’t an option. Still, there was hope out there. They just had to be brave enough to go after it.
Forest coughed. “We could test other reindeer. There are some in Alaska.” He paused. “We could even go to Alaska and Sweden. Fan out across the globe and take blood samples.”
Natasha’s eyes brightened. “That would be a fun trip. Count me in.”
“Agreed.” Faith smiled at her friend. If they didn’t get to Sweden, then there was a girls’ trip of some kind in the making with that one brief word. “However, it’s unlikely that any of them have flying genes,” Faith replied. “I’ve been corresponding with vets all over the world–being discrete as ever–and the genetic markers on the reindeer–everything from antler shape to body types–differ from our herd.”
“So we’re just going to give up on Christmas? Let Santa down?” Drake threw his napkin on the table. He’d run out of rolls to chew on and didn’t have anything else to hold his words back.
Mom lifted her eyebrows at his outburst. It didn’t seem like she disapproved so much as she wished she’d been the first one to say it.
Dad shook his head. “Let’s not get upset. We’ll talk about this–afterdinner.”
Drake got to his feet. “I can’t sit here and count my blessings like everything is okay. Those reindeer are our lives. They count on us.Christmascounts on us!”
Caleb stood, too. “Weknowthat. Why do you think we’ve been working on alternatives?”
“You haven’t said a word to me,” Drake spat. “I have just as much right to be in on these conversations as the rest of you.”
Caleb glanced down at Faith. They shared a guilty look, and Drake suddenly understood that most of these conversations were happening in the private hours they shared. He whipped his eyes to Jack and Natasha. Natasha played with her hands in her lap. He didn’t bother to check in with the rest of them. They used to complain when Mom and Dad would make decisions over pillow talk, and here they did the same thing.
