How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas by Jeff Guinn

circumstances. I didn’t want to lose the bread. After all, I had so very few things left to give before my mission was over. “Where have you put your club? Are you going to hit me with it?”
    He chuckled, and pushed into my hand another long loaf, which I had obviously mistaken for a weapon. “Neither of us seems to be a robber, my friend. I think I want to know you better. My companion and I have a warm, clean room back in the city. Join us there; we’ll eat and drink and talk.”
    Well, I certainly couldn’t accept this invitation. I still wasn’t sure I could trust these men, and if they were somehow bad and they discovered I was a woman, my situation would only become worse. So I suggested we first distribute food to the poor nomads in their tents instead, hoping that in the process I would have a chance to run away. But while the second man waited outside the camp, the first one I’d stumbled into stayed right by my side as we left bread and fruit and cheese. When the last item was placed by the final sleeping mat, the man gently took my arm and led me back to where his friend was waiting. I was caught.
    As we walked back into the city, the first man let go of me, but I noticed he and his companion walked on either side of me, perhaps so I couldn’t get away. They began to talk in their normal voices. I kept whispering. My cloak was baggy, its long empty pockets flapping since the food I’d stored in them was gone. Apparently, these two still thought I was a man.
    We arrived at the inn where they were staying, and they invited me to come up for something to eat and drink. Sensing my chance, I simply shook my head and turned to walk away, but the man who’d waited outside the nomad camp caught me and said somewhat impatiently, “What’s the matter with you? You know now we’re not thieves. If you don’t have a place to stay, you can even sleep with us.”
    â€œI have to leave,” I whispered. “Good night.” I meant to go. I would have, but then the first man reached out toward me. I could have avoided his touch. But somehow I was frozen in place.
    â€œAt least let me see who you are,” he said, gently tugging my hood away from my face. My long hair tumbled out, and as the light coming through the windows of the inn fell upon my face, I knew it was clear I was certainly not a man.
    â€œLet me go. I can fight if I have to,” I said with as much force as I could summon.
    â€œYou don’t have to,” he said reassuringly. “Please, my good woman, don’t be afraid we’d harm you.”
    I couldn’t be sure of that. The two men were standing close together, staring at my newly revealed face. Impulsively, I reached out and, one after the other, pulled their hoods away from their faces. At least if I was attacked by them and survived, I might be able to identify them afterward to the city authorities. When I saw the first face I gasped. I recognized this man. He was one of the two men from the market, the beardless one with the nearsighted squint. That must mean the other was—Yes! The man with the long white hair and beard and warm smile, the man I’d dreamed about for so long. I couldn’t help staring into his eyes. We must have looked at each other for a full minute or more before he said, “Our offer of something to drink and eat is made in friendship.”
    I knew I could trust him—why else had he been so long in my dreams?—so I replied, “Then in friendship, I accept.”

    Nicholas
    Up in the room, they produced jars of fruit juice—I very much preferred drinking such healthy stuff rather than wine—and some bread and cheese. Our conversation instantly bubbled over. I had never been someone who liked to talk about herself, but as soon as we sat down on the floor mats I found myself almost babbling as I recounted my childhood in Niobrara with Uncle Silas and Aunt Lodi,