It was Venturo and Alvaro who started the rumor.
“Did you know Theo is Santa Claus?”
To skeptical minds, the boys doubled down.
“It’s true, me ‘n Vinnie saw him with a red hat on.”
The story only gained embellishment from there, Alvaro taking point when it came to adding on additional details, Venturo nodding sagely in the background. Venturo was the one who’d once told Alvaro he could sell water to a fish, so really perhaps it was Vinnie who started this train down the tracks in the first place.
“We saw him chatting it up with some reindeer the other night — one of ‘em even had a glowing nose!”
“Have you ever noticed when he laughs it sounds an awful lot like ‘ho ho ho?’ Just saying..”
“He’s been asking us an awful lot whether or not we’ve been good this year. Seems kinda sus.”
But with enough telephoning of these ‘facts,’ even the most Grinchian residents began to believe, if just silently.
It was Maisy who was first to confront the horse in question.
“I’d like a bag of carrots. One of those big ones.”
Theo laughed. Now that she was thinking about it, it did sound a little like ‘ho ho ho.’
“You and me both.”
Maisy blinked at him, then gave a sly little smile.
“I see what you’re doing. Ok, whatever, just consider my request received.”
It happened again a few days later, Arionna calling him over to their shared fenceline.
“I have a message for you, from Poppy.”
“Oh?” Theo had always found Poppy rather cool, the way she stood up to mares twice her size. He flipped his mane, glancing over Arionna’s tall wither to see whether or not the little black mare in question was watching.
“Yeah, she told me to ask you for a new rainsheet? Maybe one that ‘doesn’t have these goofy little snowmen.” Arionna shrugged. “Her words. I think they’re kinda cute.”
“Me too,” Theo said, dreamily. “But wait, what am I supposed to do about it?”
Arionna snorted.
“Get her a new one, durh. As Santa, isn’t that kinda your job?”
“Santa? Why…”
But Theo remembered, not too many moons ago, when he stood before a copse of pines and posed in a hat that, now that you mentioned it, was very much a twin to Santa’s own. Perhaps there was some unknown agreement he had entered into by donning the hat, though he couldn’t recall signing anything. Still, it was bringing everyone’s recent behavior towards him into stark clarity. Maybe he was Santa.
Arionna cut off his holiday spiral.
“And I guess if you’re taking requests, I’d like one of those big nets filled with alfalfa. Actually, scratch the net — just the alfalfa will do.”
Over the next few weeks, the wishlist only grew. Messages passed down the aisle, asks for carrots and stud muffins and extra portions of grain.
Even the cats got in on it.
“We want a tunnel so we can go out any time, day or night,” the fluffy one (Huey?) told Theo one afternoon as he slinked by his stall.
“It would be really great to have a way out at night,” said another little black and white shadow, casually licking a paw.
The third was not completely up to speed on the synchronized messaging.
“Extra blankets, and double dinner.”
On the Monday before Christmas, everyone’s stockings were hung, and Theo had a to-be-filled order for every last one of them. For those more abstract wishes, (“A good feel from everyone I interact with”) or ones beyond the scope of his control (“Snow!!!”) Theo figured a couple of carrots wouldn’t be a totally unwelcome substitute.
On Christmas Eve, everyone made a point of tucking in early. Even the youngsters were more subdued than on other nights, perhaps having been warned by their elders that no presents come to those who stay awake. A rather smart tactic for ensuring a good night’s sleep, Theo thought.
But there would be no sleep for the golden gelding himself. Once the chorus of ‘goodnights’ had rung through the property, Theo wasted no time in filling his makeshift sleigh (those hay carts do come in handy!) and beginning the arduous task of present distribution.
Theo was the busiest he had ever been. If one thought arena work was challenging, one should try wrangling cartfuls of carrots, or dragging a bale of alfalfa down the aisle, all without being seen. Half-way through his list, Theo stopped to catch his breath, taking a moment to speculate that the reindeer must help. And they must not be shod, either, for several times he thought himself almost caught out, this jingle horse failing to pick up his feet. After hearing him clip and clop down the aisle, Maisy had suppressed a giggle she’d managed to artfully turn into a snore as Theo dumped carrots into her stocking. Sure, they all thought it was him anyway, but why try purposefully to ruin the magic?
As the Christmas sun rose, Theo paused a moment to admire his work — stockings fit to bursting with treats and hay and blankets, not to mention all the well wishes he’d filled them with too. And with the satisfaction of a job well done, Theo tip-toed back to his stall where he promptly fell fast asleep.
The exhaustion from his nighttime endeavors meant that Theo missed the excited squeals of realization when his neighbors awoke to find their wishes fulfilled, and all of the hullabaloo that came afterwards.
He missed Trinket and Mabel’s carrot eating competition (for two small mares, they could sure put them back). He missed Vinnie bonking Alvaro on the head with their new Jollyball, and Arionna taking a bite so big out of her alfalfa that it took her almost a full two minutes to chew. He even missed Poppy modeling her new, plain blanket, which everyone privately agreed was not nearly as cute as her previous, but which made the mare in question very happy.
What he did not miss were the whispered ‘thank yous’ from each and every one of them — yes, even the cats, for whom he’d managed to fashion little toys out of baling twine — for these messages came through, even in his dreams.
When he did finally awaken, some time later and to a much more subdued barn, it was with a full heart and sense of immense accomplishment. And also, much to his surprise, to a stuffed stocking of his own.
“That was nice of you guys,” Theo said, but the horses looked bewildered.
“We’d love to take credit for that,” Owen said, munching on a stud muffin, “But that wasn’t us.”
“We, uh, meant to do something,” Alvaro said, having regained control of the Jollyball for the moment, wielding it like a club. “But we ran out of time.”
Inside his stocking, tucked between the most perfect looking carrots Theo had ever seen, was a note, scrawled in glittery black ink.
Dear Theo,
Thank you for giving me the night off. You did a tremendous job filling my shoes! If you’re open to it, perhaps we can talk about expanding your route next year — I know there are a few barns in the area who would love to have a visit from Theo Claus.
Very Merry Christmas to you,
SC
Ps., You were right. The reindeer do help.
“Merry Christmas,” said Theo, taking a bite out of a carrot. “But I think I’ll stick to being a horse.”
