1225 Christmas Tree Lane

“Yeah, I guess,” Linc agreed. He leaped back into the truck, his brothers with him. “Guide me,” he shouted and jerked the transmission into drive.

“Turn right,” Ned ordered.

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I’d be driving across someone’s pasture, that’s why.” Obviously Linc was the only one with his eye on the road.

“Then turn as soon as you reach an intersection,” Mel told him.

Linc had never liked taking instructions from his younger brothers and he gritted his teeth. As the oldest, he’d always shouldered responsibility for the others. He had no choice now, however—not that things had worked out all that well with him in charge.

At the first opportunity, Linc made a sharp right-hand turn, going around the corner so fast the truck teetered on two wheels. It came down with a bounce that made all three of them hit their heads on the ceiling. “Now what?”

“Pull over for a minute.”

“Okay.” Linc eased to a stop by the side of the road.

“There!” Mel had apparently seen another display in the heavens. “That star!”

“Which way now?” Linc asked with a sigh.

“Go straight.”

Linc shook his head. The road in front of him was anything but straight. It twisted and curved this way and that.

“Linc,” Mel said, glaring at him. “Go!”

“I’m doing the best I can.” He came to a straight patch in the road and floored the accelerator. If anyone had told him he’d be chasing around a series of dark roads, desperately seeking guidance from a fireworks display, he would’ve laughed scornfully. Him, Mr. Great Sense of Direction? Lost? He sighed again.

“We’re getting close,” Mel said.

“Okay, stop!” Ned yelled.

Linc slammed on the brakes. The three of them jerked forward and just as abruptly were hurled back. If not for the seat belts, they would’ve been thrown headfirst into the windshield.

“Hey!” Mel roared.

“Maybe don’t stop quite so suddenly,” Ned added in a voice that was considerably less hostile.

“Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mel cocked his head toward the sky. “Okay, continue down this road.” Mercifully it was flat and straight.

“Here,” Ned said a minute later.

Once more Linc slammed on the brakes, only this time his brothers were prepared and had braced themselves.

“Look!” Ned shouted. “This is it. We’re here!”

Linc didn’t know what he was talking about. “We’re where?”

“The Harding ranch,” Mel answered.

Then Linc saw. There, painted on the rural route box, was the name Cliff Harding. To his left was a pasture and a large barn.

“I think I see a camel,” Linc said. He’d heard about people raising llamas before but not camels.

“Are you sure?” Ned mumbled. “Maybe it’s just an ugly horse.”

“A camel? No way,” Mel insisted.

“I say it’s a camel.” Linc wondered if his brother’s argumentative nature had something to do with being a middle child. Ned, as the youngest, was usually the reasonable one, the conciliator. Whereas he—

“A camel?” Mel repeated in an aggressive tone. “What would a camel be doing here?”

“Does it matter?” Ned broke in. “This is where Mary Jo’s waiting for us.”

“Right.” Linc turned into the long driveway that led to the house and barn. The fireworks had stopped, but some kind of party seemed to be taking place, because the yard was filled with people. There was a bunch of little kids running around and the atmosphere was festive and excited.

“There’s an aid car here.” Ned gestured urgently in its direction.

“Do you think someone’s hurt?” Mel asked.

“No,” Linc said slowly, thoughtfully. This was what he’d feared from the first. The minute he’d heard about Mary Jo’s dizzy spell he’d suspected she was about to give birth. “I think Mary Jo might have had her baby.”

“But she isn’t due for another two weeks,” Mel declared.