“What I want he can’t bring me,” I said bitterly.
“Try anyway.”
I wish…
I wish…
In the distance, sleigh bells rang.
82
Matt
“And this is why I don’t want you all spending so much time with the Frost brothers,” Greg barked at his younger brothers as we unloaded the sleigh in the front yard of my estate house.
“What could go wrong? I know how to ride a horse, and I did a bit of carriage racing in high school,” I said.
Eli’s younger brothers gathered around the sleigh in excitement. It was a nice sleigh—bright red with curved accents, silver-gold runners, and velvety red interior seats. Even though I claimed to hate Christmas, even my inner child thought it was the coolest thing ever. A literal sleigh pulled by an actual real live reindeer? We were doing Christmas hardcore.
Eli sat a box down on the slight seat and started pulling out yards of silver bells, garland, and a whole wreath.
“We need to bedazzle Matt’s sleigh,” he told his brothers. Kringle jumped into the seat of the sleigh and barked happily.
“Whoa, whoa,” I said as Eli directed his little brothers to start hammering nails into the sleigh to string on the garland and bells. “We’re not making a whole production out of it.”
“This is a big Christmas moment in a small town,” Eli said, rummaging around in the box. “You have to go big or go home.”
“I’m not even sure if Prancer is going to be able to pull this thing.”
“Prancer, the reindeer who has done nothing the past few weeks but eat and lounge around?” Greg said snidely. “I’m shocked you’re concerned.”
“Prancer!” Eli bellowed. “Dinner time.” Hoofbeats sounded, and the reindeer sprinted around the side of the house toward the sleigh.
The kids shrieked as the reindeer skidded to a halt in front of the sleigh, sending snow spraying anywhere.
“You want a treat?” Eli asked the reindeer, holding up a sandwich.
I picked up the harness I had asked the Svenssons to bring over. They owned horses and had the tack required to hook up a hoofed animal to a sleigh.
I was apprehensive as I secured the harness around Prancer. What if he freaked out? What if he refused to pull the sleigh?
But the reindeer concentrated only on the promise of food and let me maneuver him in front of the sleigh. Eli’s brothers strung battery-powered lights on his large rack of antlers. The reindeer licked his lips as Eli dangled the sandwich in front of him while I attached the bridle and reins over Prancer’s muzzle.
“All right,” Eli said, duct-taping a fishing pole to Prancer’s harness. “Let’s give it a whirl around the yard and see how she handles.”
I looked at the fishing pole. Eli tied the sandwich with twine and attached it to the end of the line.
“This will give Prancer a little motivation,” my friend said.
I climbed into the sleigh beside Kringle.
“On, Prancer!” Eli yelled and gave the reindeer a pat on the rump.
But instead of trotting us nicely around the yard, Prancer, seeing a floating sandwich right in front of his nose, decided now was finally his chance. He was starving, and that sandwich was his. He took off after it at a dead sprint.
“Whoa!” I shouted.
Kringle howled as Prancer careened around the yard.
