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“What if he doesn’t come back? We can’t leave him out here. It’s too cold.” Clara had started to cry. “He’ll freeze. Or the coyotes will get him. I know about coyotes. They could kill him.”
Tracy gathered the little girl close, wrapping her in her arms. “Don’t worry, Clara,” Rush said. “Bucket knows where we are. When he gets tired of chasing that rabbit, he’ll come back and find us. You’ll see.”
Conner nudged the horses to a brisk walk. As the sleigh moved ahead, Tracy heard a sound, faint with distance but unmistakable. She clutched Clara tighter, making sure the little girl’s ears were covered so she wouldn’t hear. Rush glanced toward her. As their eyes met, they heard the sound again. Tracy shivered, a chill creeping up her back.
It was the haunting cry of a coyote.
Coyotes were no threat to the horses or the people in the sleigh. But a full-grown coyote could kill a dog like Bucket. If she heard their calls, out there in the darkness, Clara would be terrified for him.
Thinking fast, Tracy spoke up. “I know what we can do. Let’s sing again, as loud as we can, so Bucket will hear us and come.”
It was Rush who began the song, his rich baritone ringing in the darkness. “Silent night . . . holy night . . .”
Tracy and Clara, then even Conner, joined in. Now the night was anything but silent as the sleigh glided up the rise that overlooked the tree forest. Minutes had passed. Still there was no sign of Bucket.
At the crest of the hill, Conner paused the horses. In the hollow below, the pine trees spread like a dark carpet, snow glittering on their branches.
Suddenly Conner hushed the song and pointed down into the hollow. Standing in the sleigh for a better view, Tracy followed his gaze. Her lips parted in wonder. Rush stood beside her, holding Clara high so she could see.
In a moonlit clearing at the edge of the trees, two dark shapes were romping in play. One of them was Bucket. The other was a small coyote.
“It looks like a young one, probably a female,” Rush whispered in Tracy’s ear. “She could be looking for a boyfriend. Bucket can’t be much help on that account, but look how much fun they’re having.”
The two animals were tussling in the snow, rolling, and chasing each other in circles, all in the spirit of play. Watching them, it was hard not to smile. But if more coyotes showed up, Bucket would be in danger.
Conner gave a loud whistle. The young coyote looked up at the sleigh on the hill, wheeled in her tracks, and raced off into the trees. Bucket hesitated, as if torn between chasing her and returning to his human pack.
“Bucket, come,” Conner commanded. “Come on, boy.”
Decision made, Bucket trotted up the hill and jumped into the sleigh. He was snowy, dirty, and smelled like eau de coyote, but his face wore a doggy grin. Clara jumped off the seat and flung her arms around him. “You bad dog!” she scolded him. “Now you’re all wet and cold. Come up under the blanket and get warm.”
She helped Bucket scramble onto the seat, then climbed up next to him and covered him with her end of the quilt. The wet dog reeked to high heaven, but he was shivering with cold, so keeping him covered probably wasn’t a bad idea.
Tracy gave Rush a smile as he shifted to make more room on the seat. This sleigh ride hadn’t turned out to be the romantic interlude they’d hoped for. But they’d shared an adventure, one that Clara would talk about for a long time to come.
* * *
Back at the ranch, they cleaned up. Clara’s nylon parka and the quilt went into the washer. Rush offered to bathe the dog, with the help of Clara, who’d washed the dog before and knew what to expect.
“I’ll help, too,” Tracy said.
“No need. Bucket doesn’t mind baths if the water’s warm.” Rush piled some worn-out towels on the floor, herded the dog into the bathroom, and ran the tub, the only place to wash him in cold weather. While the tap was running, he filled an empty milk jug with fresh water for rinsing.
“Give me a break,” Tracy teased. “It looks like fun.”
“Come on, Daddy, let her help,” Clara said.
Rush lowered Bucket into the warm water, then glanced up at Tracy. “All right, but if you get soaked, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Tracy rolled up her sleeves and knelt next to the tub. Rush was secretly pleased that she wanted to help, but he kept that to himself as he handed her a plastic soft drink cup. “Okay, use this to scoop water on him while I soap.”
“What about me?” Clara asked.
“Stay up by his head. Talk to him and keep him calm. And try not to get too wet.” As Tracy began wetting Bucket down with bathwater, Rush lathered soap between his hands and rubbed it into the dog’s wet, smelly fur.
“Ugh!” She wrinkled her nose. “He smells worse now than he did in the sleigh.”
“Keep pouring water on him,” Rush said. “Coyotes are smelly animals. They roll in whatever they can find to hide their scent. But I imagine that, to Bucket, that young lady coyote smelled like she was wearing perfume. We should probably keep an eye on him when he’s outside. He might get it into his fool head to go looking for her again.”
