Page 75 of Run, Run Rudolph
I whirled, giving the elf my best glare. Oh, how I longed to punt that big-eared annoyance right out of my barn and straight into the New Year.
Satisfied by how Hugo had rocked on his heels in surprise after my split-second glowering, I turned back to Santa. That’s right, you little punk. I could be scary. It might be a façade, as everyone pretty much knew I was a small-town softie.
Except my kindergarteners. Okay, okay, they were onto me, too. They respected my authority because they were five, and I helped them open tough packages and containers at snack time.
There was another thump on the roof.
“Is Mrs. Claus here?” Santa asked, perking up again. Then, like a memory hit him, his expression quieted and he let out a sad little “Oh.”
I was already getting too warm in the barn, thanks to Santa’s magic, and I pulled off my coat.
“Santa, do you have some magic that could help Rudolph?”
“What a festive sweatshirt,” Santa said, and I looked down at the ‘Oh, what fun it is to ride’ horse graphic on my front. “I do enjoy your spirit. Always have.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but beam at him. “Thanks. My Oma and I do a new sweater every year.”
“She has a good sense of humour,” he said, his eyes twinkling. My smile dropped.
“How do you know?”
He winked and tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. What did that mean? He was spying on my Oma?
He began cheerily humming Jingle Bells.
I resisted the urge to drag another bale over for me to sit on and sing carols with Santa Claus while forgetting about our little time crunch. Instead, with a reluctant sigh, I asked, “Santa, Rudolph hurt his leg, and he needs to pull your sleigh in a few hours. Are you able to heal him?”
My eyes drifted to the barn roof, where all the banging and scuffling was coming from. I didn’t want to know what was going on up there, or what kind of danger Haden might be putting himself in, as it basically sounded like hooves were pulling a sack of lumber across the shingles. Sadly, I didn’t think that assessment was too far off, with the once pristine sleigh being the lumber. If Santa could heal Rudolph, maybe he could deal with the sleigh after that.
“Oh, are you hurt, Rudolph?” Santa said tenderly, his kind blue eyes turning to his reindeer friend.
Rudolph nodded sadly. “This woman hit me with her car.”
Oh, heck no.
“Santa, would you like to hear the full story?” I said firmly, giving Rudolph a stern look. He blinked at me with giant, gooey reindeer eyes filled with pain and innocence. Dang, he was good.
“Look! There’s Tamara Madden,” Santa said. He gave me a cheery wink. “You know I can’t deliver you a boyfriend for Christmas.”
“Okay. That’s fine.” Feeling snippy, I added, “I’ll talk to Estelle about it instead.”
“Estelle!” Momentarily, the fog in Santa’s eyes faded and a look of alarm flashed before he saw Snarky. Then he leaned forward, eager and intense. “Hugo? You’re here? Is Mrs. Claus okay? Has she sent me a message? Is she making the oats?”
“I’m sure she’ll make the oats,” I said impatiently. “I just need you to heal your lead reindeer as well as your muddled-up, bruised brain. That’s why you’re here! To fix things. And as a cherry on top, could you also sober up Blitzen, and get your broken sleigh off the roof of my barn? And then fix it, so it’ll fly? Can you do that? Please? Because that’s what I actually, truly and very deeply, want for Christmas this year.”
Beside me, Snarky sat in the straw and began whimpering and rocking. Santa, however, simply blinked at me a few times.
I braced for the irritating broken record of him being surprised to see me, Tamara Madden of Eagle Ridge. His jovial sweetness was so innocent, I couldn’t stay upset, but it was still incredibly irritating.
“Rudolph is hurt?” he asked seriously, no hint of the jovial, blundering man I’d been dealing with for the past hour or so. It was like a moment of clarity, allowing me to finally see the man who ran the North Pole.
“Yes,” I said firmly, afraid he was going to revert back to fun-loving, loopy Santa any second. “What can we do to help him heal quickly?”
Santa’s gaze slowly shifted to the elf who was still hugging himself in the straw. His voice was firm and commanding. “Hugo?”
“Yes, sir!” The elf jumped to his feet, practically vibrating with eagerness.
“A potion to heal Rudolph.”
