Chapter 15 Red
“One more, Grandpa. One more that goes viral!” Benny sat hunched over in the front seat of the sleigh they’d just taken from Jack so he could warm up before his next customers arrived, who weren’t due for well over an hour.
“If we can do that, Aunt Cindy will book the rest of the month, and then I promise we’ll come clean. ”
“We better,” Red muttered. “I don’t like lyin’, Benny-bean. I don’t like it all.”
Benny nodded, a little guilt darkening his golden-brown eyes behind snow-dampened glasses.
As they made their way up the trail, the runners of the sleigh cut a clean hiss over the fresh-packed snow, a sound Red had come to love even when he pretended otherwise.
The trail that curved toward Moose Creek shimmered with frost, every pine branch weighed heavy with powder from last night’s storm.
Clouds hung low, turning the afternoon light bluish gray. Red’s breath puffed in small clouds over his nearly frozen beard. Beside him, Benny sat with his gloved hands hugging the phone like it was made of gold.
Red adjusted his Santa hat. The thing had slid sideways on the ride out and now poked one eyebrow like it was conspiring against him.
“You know this is lunacy,” he muttered. “A man my age, freezing parts of myself better left unfrozen, all for the sake of a blasted phone screen.”
Benny’s grin didn’t budge. “One more video, Grandpa. That’s all we need. It’ll be epic.”
“Epic? I don’t trust that word.” Red curled his lip and tugged the reins lightly to guide Copper off the main lodge trail and onto the narrow spur that led to Moose Creek. “Epic usually means I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
“Grumpy Santa is so popular!” Benny said, as if that covered any foolishness. “I heard Aunt Cindy ask Grandma MJ if she knew what some people were talking about when they checked in and asked to meet him!”
“All the more reason to come clean with our lie, little man.”
“We will, we will,” Benny said. “But this video is going to be—”
“I know. Epic.”
“Even better than the hot cocoa review when you pretended to burn your tongue and spit out marshmallows!” He slapped his leg with a giggle. “We got like five hundred new followers and a hashtag—spittingsanta! It was better than the Jingle Bells rant.”
Red chuckled. “Well, that dumb kids’ song—‘Jingle bells, Santa smells’—had to be put away. I don’t care if it’s just third-grade humor. It offends.”
The whole bit had been good, though. Benny had laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. Plus, it got what the kid wanted most—thousands of likes and views and…whatever else he considered internet currency.
“Remind me again,” Red said, “what’s so perfect about freezing our tails off at a snow fort when we could be in the lodge eatin’ pie?”
Benny bounced in his seat. “Because people loved the fort! I’ve seen comments asking about it—like, is it real, can you book it, can Grumpy Santa give a tour? We’ll show it off. You’ll look all cranky about it, and then boom—viral.”
Red snorted, though part of him—some small, treacherous part—was proud of how sharp the boy’s instincts were. Marketing was half smoke and mirrors anyway. Benny understood that better than most grown men.
Copper’s ears flicked back, probably because he sensed the change in terrain as they neared the creek. The last time they’d come up here, it had been warmer and morning—he and Benny had walked to make their snow fort and video. But it was easier now with Copper dragging them along.
As they neared the creek, all was still, with the water frozen and the meadow beyond it untouched except for some distant deer tracks. Through the trees, Red spotted the fort—a crooked little wall of snow blocks, lopsided but charming.
Jack told him Cindy had seen the little snow structure, and he’d brushed off questions about it as a “Christmas surprise.”
Red would be much happier when this subterfuge was over. It didn’t sit well with him to lie to his family. Yeah, yeah, Gracie would be all bent out of shape. But like Benny said, if they saved December and got that tax money? His mama would get over a little rule-breaking.
“All right,” Red said, tightening his grip on Copper’s reins, the horse prancing a bit before the fort came into clear view. “Lay it on me. What’s the grand scheme?”
As soon as Red slowed the horse to a stop, Benny hopped down, snow squeaking under his boots. He scampered around to Copper’s head, reaching up to pat his nose.
“Here’s the plan,” he said, as mature as a grown man running a business meeting. “You sit there looking all grouchy like you hate the fort, but this is where your elves live…something like that. You always make up the funniest stuff.”
“’Cause I’m a comedic genius.”
Benny ignored the aside. “Off-camera, I’m going to blast you with a snowball. And I mean blast. Right in the face.”
Red cocked his head. “You don’t have to sound that delighted about it.”
Benny giggled. “You’re gonna get so mad!
You’ll be grumbling about elves with attitude.
You know. You look across the creek and pretend to see them.
Runaway elves! Little rebels! Bad creatures!
All your funny stuff. Then you give Copper a snap of the reins and go running off after them, alongside the creek, with you waving your hat and having a whole grumpy moment.
And then I’ll hit you again with a big bomber! ”
He practically danced with joy and Copper whinnied, cold and not enjoying the stop at all.
Red raised his brows. “You like that part a little too much, kid.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Not for me.”
“It’ll make you grumpier!” Benny insisted. “That’s the brand, Grandpa. You’re Grumpy Santa. Own it.”
Red grumbled under his breath but adjusted his hat. Somewhere between late November and now, he’d stopped fighting. The kid was right—his sour mug and deadpan gripes had become the hook. And bookings had gone up. Snowberry Lodge wasn’t at full capacity, but it wasn’t bleeding red ink either.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get it over with before my arthritis gets arthritis.”
Benny spent a few minutes packing snowballs while Red did his best to calm Copper, who shifted and turned like he wanted it all to be over.
Once Benny had his phone ready, he held up a gloved hand and counted down on his fingers.
“Three…two…one—action!”
Red slouched dramatically on the driver’s bench, the reins slack in his gloved hands.
“Welcome to Santa’s winter fortress,” he started, making his voice extra low and gravelly as he turned to look at the fort. “Marvel at the majestic walls of…slush. Built by overpaid elves who apparently flunked architecture.”
All of a sudden, he felt the cold punch rushing at him, a thwump on his chest, almost hard enough to take his breath away. At least it wasn’t his face.
Red scowled. “And now the elves have resorted to violence. Perfect.”
Benny scrambled, and in seconds, another snowball came flying but it was wider. It missed Red by a few feet but smashed into the crooked wall of the fort, making the structure slump with a satisfying whoosh.
Copper jerked at the sound, snorting clouds into the frosty air. His hooves stamped nervously.
“Easy, boy,” Red murmured, tightening the reins.
But Benny was on a roll. He darted closer, heaving another snowball. This one clipped Copper’s flank before exploding in a spray of powder.
The gelding startled hard, jerking sideways.
“Benny!” Red barked, but he had his face in that daggum cell phone!
Copper pranced, muscles bunching. His ears pinned back, and in the next breath, he lunged forward. The sleigh jolted, runners biting into the snowpack. Red clutched the reins with both hands, his stomach dropping.
“Grandpa!”
As Copper surged straight past the fort, Benny managed to scramble up to the bench, barely slinging himself next to Red.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize, just hang on!” Red yanked the reins, but Copper was blind with panic now, his breath pumping white clouds.
He headed straight for the frozen creek.
“No!” Red yanked the reins, but it was a wasted effort. Copper’s hooves thundered, then slammed into the creek bed rocking the sleigh, and making the horse even more frenzied.
With indescribable strength, Copper rose up and stormed forward, banging the sleigh over ice and rocks, bringing it up the slippery banks to the edge of the wide, flat meadow beyond.
“Copper!” Red snapped the reins again, but that merely spurred on the animal.
He tore forward over the untouched crust, with the sleigh bouncing behind him. Benny squealed, clutching Red’s arm.
“Grandpa!”
“Hang on!” Red hollered, using all his strength to yank back the reins. “Just stay low, Benny!”
The meadow spread wide, dazzling white. The runners hit logs and rocks, sliding on icy stones, the old metal tested. Red peered ahead, knowing full well what was at the other end of this stretch—the steep hill, sharp and unforgiving. If Copper didn’t stop, they’d be dragged straight toward it.
“Whoa, boy!” Red bellowed. His voice tore at his throat. “Easy! Easy now!”
But the horse was wild-eyed, nostrils flaring, ears deaf to commands. And Benny’s bravado and maturity melted into terrified screams, muffled into Red’s jacket.
“We’ll be okay, boy!” Red growled the words he did not believe, his hands aching on the reins. “Look at me, Benny.” His voice shook, but he forced it steady and stole a glance at his great-grandson. “You’re all right. You hear me? You’re safe. He’s gotta run it off.”
The boy’s tear-bright eyes lifted. He nodded, trembling.
Red gritted his teeth and hauled again, pulling Copper’s head to the side. The horse skidded, hooves spraying snow, momentum carrying them in a long arc across the meadow.
For one awful second Red thought they’d tip—the sleigh leaning, runner digging—but it thudded flat again. Copper lunged on, angling straight toward the far ridge.
“Not that way,” Red muttered, tugging with every ounce of strength left in him. “Not today.”
Copper stumbled, then found his footing. His ears flicked—at last listening to commands.
Finally—finally—Copper slowed, foam flecking his bit. His chest heaved, great clouds of steam rising into the frigid air. Red wrenched him to a halt, the sleigh jerking so hard both of them nearly pitched off the bench.
And it was over. Nothing but a panting beast, a whimpering child, and Red’s poor heart walloping his chest. For a long, long moment, no one moved.
Then Benny hiccupped a sob. “Grandpa, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“’Sokay. We’re okay. We just need help, ’cause the sleigh’s pretty messed up.”
Benny moaned. “I lost the phone,” he wailed. “I dropped it when I jumped in the sleigh.”
Red huffed out a breath and looked back to where they’d been—a half mile of drifts and snowbanks that would hide that phone until late spring.
How would they get home? Maybe they could take turns riding Copper, but he doubted the spooked old horse would stand for that. How would they get over the creek?
How long would they be out here, frozen and scared?
The meadow stretched silent around them, the hill’s drop just yards away. Copper stood quivering, sides heaving. Benny pressed into Red’s chest, clutching him like a lifeline.
Red felt tears sting his eyes—hot against the icy wind.
“We’ll be all right,” he whispered, mostly for Benny, maybe a little for himself. “We’ll be all right.”
But he didn’t quite believe it. Not yet.
Red stroked the boy’s back, trying to steady his own breathing. But then he saw Copper shifting, favoring his front right leg. Not bad, not broken, but the horse kept lifting it, pawing the air like the weight of the harness was too much.
“Blast it,” Red muttered. “He’s strained himself.”
Benny looked up, wide-eyed. “What do we do?”
Red’s gut clenched. Jack was the one who always handled the harnessing with quick hands and mastery of the skill.
Red had learned the basics, sure, but he hadn’t unharnessed a horse in years.
He eyed the heavy traces, the straps cutting dark lines across Copper’s coat.
The animal trembled, breaking Red’s heart.
“We get him loose,” Red said, though his voice came out rough. “If he pulls with that leg like this, he could do real damage. He needs to walk it off a bit.”
Benny scrambled down into the snow with him, hovering close but careful.
Red fumbled at the first buckle, his fingers clumsy in thick gloves. “Come on, now,” he gritted. “Jack makes this look easy.”
The strap finally gave with a snap, loosening just enough that Copper shook his head. Red moved to the next, yanking with frozen fingers, shoulders screaming from the strain of the ride.
The gelding stamped again, jerking sideways. The sleigh rocked. Red swore under his breath, bracing his knee against Copper for leverage as he worked the last buckle free. The leather had stiffened in the cold, fighting him every inch.
“There,” he muttered, tugging the final trace loose.
The instant Copper felt the slack, he surged. Red had just enough time to stumble back, pulling Benny out of the way as the horse tore free of the shafts. Snow sprayed in a white burst as he bolted.
But not toward the lodge, not even toward the creek or the woods.
Red’s heart dropped to his boots as Copper charged across the rest of the open meadow, straight toward the steep slope at the ridge.
“No,” Red rasped, breath fogging. “No, no, no.”
Beside him, Benny gasped. “Grandpa! He’s running down the hill!”
Red could only watch, frozen, as Copper disappeared over the edge.
For the first time since the day he held his lifeless wife in his arms, Red Starling felt utterly lost and terrified.