My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 1)

Bucket gave a little yip. Travis shook his head. “Okay, I guess we’ll just have to figure it out as we go along.”

But Bucket was the least of his worries. If he couldn’t get rid of the horses, at least he needed to learn to manage them. Horses were complicated animals. An old friend of his, who’d made it big as a rodeo star, had owned a book on horse care that was as thick as his fist.

An old friend!

Maybe that was the answer. He and Conner Branch had been best friends in high school, and they’d never really lost touch. Conner had even written him a few letters while he was doing time. Travis hadn’t contacted Conner since he’d been released and moved to Branding Iron, but he still had Conner’s old number on his phone. If anybody knew about horses, Conner did.

The number might not be good anymore. But it was worth a try.

Still standing in the yard, with Bucket at his feet, he took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled to the old number, and made the call.

Conner answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Travis!” He sounded happy. “What’s up? I heard you were out, but then I lost track of you. I was afraid it might be for good.”

“Sorry.” Just hearing his old friend’s voice raised Travis’s spirits. “I should’ve called. I’m back on the old family ranch in Branding Iron. The place is all mine now. I’m trying to make it work but, man, it’s a struggle. Nothing but beans and blisters. How about you? Still earning

those fancy buckles and dazzling the women?”

There was a silent pause on the other end of the phone. “You haven’t heard?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It was in the papers, but it’s been a while.”

“I can’t remember the last time I read a newspaper. What are you talking about?”

“I’m finished, Travis. Got stomped by a bull in the Vegas finals. Bastard broke my hip and shattered my leg. Spent months in traction and rehab. I can walk okay, but it hurts like hell to sit a horse, and I’ll never compete again.”

A memory flashed through Travis’s mind—a young Conner on a bronc in the junior rodeo championships, a cocky grin on his face. Rodeo had been Conner’s whole life.

“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry,” Travis said. “What rotten luck. Are you doing all right?”

Conner’s chuckle was laced with irony. “I don’t mean to dump on you, old friend, but you might as well hear the rest of the story. No insurance for bull riding. So my medical bills cost me damn near everything I had. Lost my big house. Had to sell my horses, and cars, and even auction off my buckles and trophies. Hell, my girlfriend left me, too, and took the dog—just like in those good old country songs. I’m living in this cheap rental in Waco while I figure out the rest of my life.”

“Come live here, with me!” As soon as Travis spoke, he knew the words were right and true. “There’s plenty of room in this old house, and Lord knows I could use the help. I don’t know squat about running a ranch or taking care of these animals that got dumped on me. I couldn’t pay you. But you’d get a free roof over your head, and we could be partners in whatever we decide to do.”

“Partners? You’re kidding!”

“I’m absolutely serious. I called you because I need advice about the horses. But having you here to help out would be the best thing I could wish for. Will you at least think about it?”

Conner laughed. “I don’t have to. I’m in. I can be there in the next few days.”

“You’d better be sure. Before you make up your mind, let me send you a photo of the house.” Travis strode toward the front corner of the house, snapped a photo from the best angle, and sent it. The three-bedroom frame home might have been a nice place fifty years ago. But it had long since fallen into neglect. The structure was sound, the shingled roof still holding against the rain and snow. But the rest was about as homey as an old miner’s shack.

There was silence on the phone while Conner studied the photo.

“Well, what do you think?” Travis asked.

“One question. Has it got indoor plumbing?”

“If you don’t mind rusty pipes.”

“And cockroaches? I hate cockroaches.”

“Haven’t seen a one. If there ever were any, they must’ve all frozen to death.”

“Then I’m in. I’ll see you in about three days.”