“I’m sorry, too. I ended an innocent life, and I’ll always wonder what I could have done differently. But it’s in the past and can’t be changed. So what do you say we put it aside and go have that coffee and pie?”
“Sure.” Maggie waited while he came around to help her out of the car. Life wasn’t fair, she thought. All Travis had meant to do was save a child. Instead, his action had ended in tragedy—and a burden of guilt he would carry for the rest of his life. She was just beginning to discover the kind of man he was.
* * *
By now it was mid-afternoon. The Saturday lunch crowd had gone, leaving Buckaroo’s more or less quiet. They took a booth, and Travis gave the waitress their order. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken a beautiful woman out to eat—not that this was any kind of date. But it wouldn’t hurt to pretend a little.
Telling Maggie about his past hadn’t been easy. But he was glad she knew and seemed to understand what had happened. At least she’d know he wasn’t holding back. And she wouldn’t have to get the story from someone else.
But why should it matter? he reminded himself. He knew why she was spending time with him. She wanted his help with the Christmas parade. But that was her problem, not his. Apart from a case of giant economy-sized tomato juice, he didn’t owe Mayor Maggie a blasted thing.
“You said your friend was coming.” She sipped the coffee the waitress had brought her. “I don’t suppose he has a round belly and a white beard?”
Travis had to smile. “If I remember right, Conner’s even skinnier than I am. He’s been a champion bronc and bull rider—made the national finals five times and won twice. Took second in the all-around competition a few years ago. But I just found out he’s been injured and needs a place to go, so I invited him here. Figured I could use his help, especially with the horses. He’s driving in from Waco, could be here as soon as tomorrow. And he’ll be tired. That’s why I’m trying to get his room ready.”
“Could you use some help?”
“From you?” His eyebrows shot up.
“I may not be as strong as you,” she said, taking a dainty forkful of pie. “But I can help balance the heavy things and carry in the light things, like drawers. It could save you some time.”
He frowned, studying the way her windblown hair curled around her face and how the loosely buttoned collar of her denim shirt revealed the barest shadow of cleavage. Why would she offer to help him with a heavy job that didn’t strike him as women’s work? He already knew the answer to that question. But that didn’t mean he was going to turn her down.
“Sure, thanks,” he said. “I’ll need to pick up some sheets and blankets at Shop Mart on the way.”
“No need. I’ve got a box of spare bedding I was planning to donate. My house isn’t far. We can stop by and pick it up when I take you back to your truck.”
“Thanks.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you’ve got time for this?”
“It’s Saturday. I was just going to run an errand or two and hang around the house. I’d rather make myself useful. Thanks for the coffee and pie, by the way. It’s not very often I get treated by a man.”
“I find that hard to believe, Mayor Maggie,” he said. “I can imagine men lining up around the block just to buy you coffee.”
She laughed. “Then you don’t know Branding Iron—or me. My age qualifies me as an old maid around here.”
That was what Abner had called her. He’d said she was too bossy for most men. If that was true, Travis thought, it didn’t say much for the male population of Branding Iron. Maggie Delaney was a goddess.
They left Buckaroo’s, and Maggie drove to her house—a cozy-looking brick bungalow with a deep, covered front porch. It reminded Travis of the house he’d grown up in after his mother remarried.
Hank had a smaller house. Travis had driven by it once. That one time was enough for him.
“Do you need help with the box?” he asked her as she pulled into the driveway and stopped.
“It’s not heavy. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She climbed out of the car, darted into the house, and appeared minutes later with a hefty-looking cardboard box, which she slid onto the backseat. He should have insisted on helping her, Travis thought. But something told him Maggie wasn’t accustomed to being helped.
She drove him back to the Shop Mart and let him off at his truck. “I’ll see you at your place,” she said.
“It still smells like skunk out there,” he warned.
“I grew up in Branding Iron. I can deal with that.” She gave him a cheerful wave as she drove away.
When Travis arrived home, he saw that she’d made it there ahead of him and propped the gate open for the truck. Maggie was on the front porch, with Bucket at her side. Travis pulled in, parked by the house, and got out of the truck to close the gate.
By now the sky was dark with clouds. Wind whistled through the ancient cottonwoods that lined the road. A storm front was moving in. Would it be chilly enough to bring the season’s first snowfall?
Travis mounted the porch where she was waiting. “Hang around with that dog and you’ll have to bury your clothes when you get home,” he said.