Stranded With Santa

He sure hoped no one saw him.

Jenny Collins looked out the kitchen window again. Gray stormclouds almost covered the square butte west of her place. It was starting to snow, and the mail hadn’t come yet. Delores had told her the doctor might be late with the mail, but he’d see the package got to them. It wasn’t much, but it had the few presents she’d been able to get for the children, and she was anxious for them to arrive. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve day and, since it would be Sunday, there’d be no mail delivery then.

She had kept thinking she would get the car running, so Jenny had not sent her list in with Delores until a few days ago. The box should contain a water pistol for Andy, a paint kit for Lisa, and much-needed mittens and scarves for them both. Four-year-old Andy really wanted a cowboy outfit with a hat, and eight-year-old Lisa really wanted a princess tiara, but they were both too expensive and nowhere to be found in Deep Gulch anyway.

Maybe next year, Jenny consoled herself. She’d surely think of a way to make some money soon. She had to. She’d just spent everything except a few hundred dollars filling the propane tank so the furnace would keep going for the next few months. If nothing else, she wanted to be generous with heat when it came to their place.

Their place. She repeated the phrase to herself in satisfaction. This Christmas it would be enough that they had a home that was all their own, even if the roof leaked on the south side of the living room and the linoleum in the kitchen had more cracks than color left. Still, the place had three bedrooms and no mortgage. She was glad her husband had forgotten he had the deed to this place. It was the one thing she had left when the estate was settled.

She’d go looking for a job after Christmas. She’d have to go to Deep Gulch each day, anyway, once she enrolled Lisa in the school there.

Jenny had talked to the second-grade teacher, and they’d agreed Lisa could start in January. Surely by then Jenny would have the car running.

In the meantime, they were happy enough. Maybe more than happy. Jenny had always dreamed of living in a small town like Deep Gulch. Her dreams even included a mail carrier like Delores.

Jenny and her family had rented a house for eight years on that wretched street in El Monte, just east of Los Angeles, and the mail delivery people there changed routes so often she doubted any of them knew her face let alone her name. Here, Delores greeted Jenny like a friend and spoiled the kids with dinosaur candy and news of her own grandchildren.

Yes, Deep Gulch was home. Jenny just needed to find a way to make her piece of home support them.

“Mom, I see her coming!” Andy’s voice carried from the back bedroom. He was obviously looking out the window himself.

“Get down off those boxes, Andrew Joel.” If he could see out the window, it meant he was standing on the boxes again. Jenny didn’t intend to leave everything in boxes for long. She just hadn’t been able to buy dressers or book shelves or cabinets—none of the furniture that stored things.

Jenny had left all their furniture in California. She’d had to. Their savings wouldn’t stretch to paying off the funeral expenses and hiring a moving van, as well. Besides, she’d hoped there might be furniture in the house already.

That hope died when she took one look at the outside of the house and realized the inside probably wasn’t much better. The property wasn’t what she had expected. She doubted anything but thistle had grown on the place for the past ten years. The acreage was fenced, but half of the fence was down. The only trees were short scrub ones, and she’d already heard from someone at the store in Deep Gulch that the creek at the bottom of the coulee had been dry for the past five years.

Still, Jenny knew this was their home. Even though it had already turned cold before they moved, the children liked to be outside. They had a freedom they had never known around Los Angeles.

If the children were happy, Jenny could live without furniture for a few months. She’d told the kids they’d pretend they were camping. So far, they hadn’t complained.

“But she’s coming!” Andrew said as he ran out of the bedroom door and down the small hallway. “She’s coming to get my letter.”

“Oh, dear. I forgot,” Jenny remembered that Delores had promised Andy she’d take his letter special delivery to the North Pole so that Santa could read it before he began his trip tomorrow. Jenny had helped him write the letter so she had known for days what it said. She just hadn’t realized he wanted the letter mailed until recently. “I’m afraid it won’t be Delores getting the mail today. Her brother is taking the route for her.”

“The guy who showed me that runny pig?”

“Runt. The pig was a runt. And, yes, that’s the man.”

“Can he find the North Pole?”

“I’m sure he can,” Jenny said. Dr. Norris was a nice man. She was sure he’d play along with Andy’s fantasy. Andy was at the age when he was starting to doubt Santa Claus, but he wasn’t ready to give up hope yet.

Or maybe, Jenny thought, she was the one not willing for him to give up his fantasy. His young life had been so difficult. He’d never really had a father. At least not one who showed any interest in him.

Stephen had made it plain to Jenny even before they married that he wasn’t a family man. Jenny had thought he would change—surely a man would care about his own children. But Stephen never had. Stephen had lived his life apart from the family as much as possible ever since her oldest, Lisa, was born.

No, it wouldn’t hurt Andy to believe in Santa for another year.

Zach twisted the wheel to keep the postal truck on the road. The doctor hadn’t exaggerated when he’d complained about the ruts to the Collins place. No wonder the woman’s car was down for the count. There probably wasn’t a nut or bolt in the vehicle that hadn’t been shaken to within an inch of its life.

The road matched the house at its end. A bright patch of white paint around the door made the rest of the house look even more faded. He suspected this Collins woman didn’t know that paint needed to be applied in warmer, dryer weather. Of course, he supposed it did get the message across that someone was living there. Without that paint and the yellow curtains in the kitchen window, the place would look deserted.

The land itself looked like no one had ever cared for it. Flat and gray, the land stretched out in all directions with nothing but half-melted lumps of old snow drifts and a few scrub trees on it. The gray patches were gathering a coating of white as the snowflakes started to fall. In the distance Zach saw a few buttes rising up from the ground, but they were so far away he didn’t pay them any attention.

A woman opened the door as Zach pulled the postal truck to a stop. She was hugging an unbuttoned man’s flannel shirt around her shoulders and was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. A young girl stood on one side of her and an even younger boy on the other.

Zach unlatched the side door and stepped out of the postal truck. The north wind was already turning bitter, so he walked along the south side of the truck until he reached the vehicle’s back door. Cold, hard flakes of snow hit against his face.

Zach had given up and put the Santa beard and hat on before he even got to Mrs. Goussley’s. It was the cookies that had done it. Every place he stopped someone shoved a plate of homemade cookies into his hands. He explained that he wasn’t Delores—shoot, he wasn’t even the doctor—he wasn’t entitled to any cookies. But no one listened. It was Christmas, they said, and he looked like a nice young man.

He hadn’t been called a nice young man since he’d started riding rodeo.

He was getting soft, he thought glumly as he yanked the furry red cap farther down on his head and snapped the fake white beard into place. The cardboard box marked “Collins” and the pie were all the mail left to deliver.

Zach lifted the two things up. It would only take a minute to get the box up to the porch. Once there, he’d see about a quick Santa picture with the kids and head back to town. Maybe Thunder would be able to travel by then. If Zach was lucky, he’d be in the arms of that showgirl by Christmas after all.

Even from a distance Zach could see the woman was younger than he’d thought she would be. He’d guess her age at twenty-five or twenty-six. He shared the doctor’s surprise that she’d taken on a farm in the middle of Montana. He would expect someone like her to move into one of the cities like Billings or maybe Missoula. Someplace that had a video store and a beauty shop.

Not that it was any of his worry. She could live on the moon for all he cared.

“Package,” Zach said when he got close enough to the porch to thrust the package at the woman.

Short blond curls blew around her face, and up close he confirmed his opinion of her. Even in the cold, she would draw some attention in a crowd. The wind had turned her nose pink to match her cheeks.

Zach had a momentary wish he’d taken the Santa suit off before he’d made his last delivery. Lots of women had a weakness for cowboys. He’d never heard of a woman yet who thought a fat, polyester Santa was sexy.

Not that he was interested in what this woman or any woman in this part of Montana thought about him. What he’d told the doctor had been true—he was just delivering the mail and then passing through.

If Zach had been paying attention to what he was doing instead of admiring the woman in front of him, he would have seen her eyes sooner. Startled blue eyes looked straight at him.

“It’s the mail,” Zach clarified. No one else had greeted him with anything remotely like panic. Maybe she thought he was some kind of kook. “The suit’s for the old ladies. Well, that and the pictures. Delores wanted you to have one with your kids.”

“Where’s the doctor?”

“Back in town looking after my horse.”

“You’ve got a horse.” The young boy looked around his mother’s thigh and up at Zach. His eyes shone with wonder. “A real horse.”

The two children stood on either side of the woman. The boy’s jeans were neatly patched at the knees, and he obviously took his fair share of tumbles; the girl’s clothes were well washed but showed no sign of stains or tears. Not even little ones. The boy’s eyes had already welcomed Zach, but the girl’s were more careful.

“Thunder’s as real as a horse can be, even when he’s sick,” Zach said. “In his day, he was the best bucking bronc around.”

“Santa has reindeer—not horses,” the young girl pointedly corrected Zach as she crossed her arms. Zach pegged her age at seven. Maybe eight. “You need to get the story straight.”

“It’s no story,” Zach protested. “I’m not—”

The woman’s eyes widened in even more alarm and Zach stopped. He looked back down at the young boy.