Santa In Montana (Calder Saga 11)

“I’m the second sheep,” the little girl replied. “I don’t have to say anything.”

“Yes, you do,” Babette reminded her, after sticking the pins safely into the pincushion. “You get to baa, remember? Let’s hear it.”

Lizabeth took a deep breath and obliged with several long baas. The two boys and Becky giggled behind their hands.

“Hey,” Lizabeth said indignantly. “That’s what sheep sound like. My big sister raised lambs for a 4-H project, so I know.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sloan assured, suppressing a smile of her own. The little girl’s outraged expression wasn’t very sheeplike and neither were the braids.

“Hmm,” Babette mused. “I think we should cut that down to one baa. Okay with you?”

Lizabeth pouted.

“Don’t forget that the animals stand in back,” the little girl in blue pointed out. “I’m in front. The whole time.”

Her friend’s pout turned into a scowl but Babette intervened before the unhappy little sheep could object to her role being shortened.

“That’ll do, kids.” She rolled her eyes at Sloan, as if saying “Actors and their egos.” “And Becky, please remember that everyone’s part is as important as yours. Now I want all of you to do a last read-through of your lines. Showtime is in fifteen minutes.”

“I lost the paper,” Eddy said.

“Your mom has extra copies.”

He looked guilt-stricken.

“Just ask her.” Babette laughed. “She won’t get mad.”

“Okay, Mrs. Nevins,” he answered respectfully.

Becky smoothed her blue robe and walked away, followed by Lizabeth, who threw a dark look over her shoulder at the two boys. There could be trouble in Bethlehem tonight, Sloan thought, tickled by the pint-size rivalries.

She got the extra copies of the two-page play and helped Babette herd the children into a quieter area. An older kid, a gawky thirteen-year-old who hadn’t taken out the earbuds in his ears, was listening to music while he rolled and unrolled a scroll on a spindle.

“Who’s that boy?” she asked.

“That’s Dave,” Babette said. “He’s our last-minute replacement for the angel. Actually, he’s a blessing in disguise. The wings came out longer than we expected and he’s tall enough that they don’t drag the floor.”

Sloan glanced at the swooping, feather-bedecked cardboard shapes attached to the back of the full-sleeved robe the teenager wore. The wings’ tips cleared the floor by a foot. “So far, so good,” she murmured. “What happened

to the first angel?”

“He came down with a stuffy nose and sore throat. Are you ready, Dave?” she asked the tall boy.

Dave looked startled but he unrolled the scroll with a flourish and cleared his throat before he pretended to read from it. “Wow! Listen up, people! I bring you tidings of great joy! Awesome!” he said loudly.

“That’s not what it says on the scroll,” Babette said dryly. “Take out the ear things so you can hear me, okay? The first word is ‘behold,’ not ‘wow.’ And you can drop the second line and the ‘awesome’ while you’re at it.”

He got it right the next time. The other kids did fine, remembering nearly all of what they were supposed to say.

“Very good,” Babette told them. She turned to Sloan. “We’d better do this for real before they forget,” she whispered. Both women guided the group of children to the stage platform, and had them wait at one side.

Sloan went up the wooden stairs and pulled together the makeshift stage curtains. Then she motioned to Babette to bring the children onto the stage.

Beyond the curtains everyone began drifting over, chatting with each other, but watching the curtains, waiting for the moment when they would open. There was an occasional bump from a child walking behind them but no little faces to be seen.

Among the onlookers, many stood, but some found folding chairs to sit on, creating a couple of irregular rows. Chase was in front, dead center, seated on a wooden armchair that befitted a family patriarch. He waited for the play to begin, a composed expression on his weathered face. He accepted a printed program from the Martin girl, who had a basket of them on her arm, and nodded his thanks.

“He must have seen this dozens of times,” Wade murmured, standing well in the back with Cat.