My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 1)

Francine sighed. “We’re still friends. But I’ve hit a wall. I had him thinking about playing Santa. But when he found out who had the sleigh and horses, he shut it right down. I don’t know what happened between him and his son, but it must’ve been pretty heart-wrenching.”

“You say he might play Santa?”

“He was hemming and hawing at first. But he says that as long as Travis doesn’t want anything to do with him, he’s not interested. But don’t worry, honey. Things will work out. You’ll see.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Maggie said. “Maybe what we need is a go-between, somebody who isn’t emotionally involved.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Francine said. “Got anybody in mind?”

“Not a soul. And even if I did have somebody, I don’t know whether it would do any good. Right now, I’m out of options. All I want is to make myself a sandwich and crash in front of the TV.”

“Then do that, girl. You’ve been working too hard. Get some rest. Things will look brighter in the morning.”

Good luck with that, Maggie thought as she thanked Francine and ended the call. None of her problems were going to solve themselves overnight. Tomorrow morning, Travis and his father would still be enemies. Travis would still be angry with her. And Branding Iron would still be without a Santa Claus.

For the space of a long breath, she stood by the kitchen window, watching the fine snowflakes pepper the glass. Then she turned to the sink and began soaping Bucket’s lingering skunk smell off her hands.

* * *

Sunday was cold and gloomy. But by Monday morning, the storm had moved on, leaving the land with a dusting of white that would melt in the midmorning sun. A flock of blackbirds had settled in a bare cottonwood. They rose in a cloud as a tan Jeep rumbled down the road, towing a small, closed trailer. At the sound, Travis glanced up from cleaning the horse stalls. His spirits brightened. Conner had arrived.

He walked out of the barn as the Jeep pulled up to the house and stopped. Conner, dressed in jeans and a fringed leather jacket, opened the door and eased his way to the ground.

He looked older and wearier than Travis remembered. Lines were etched beneath his startling blue eyes. But the close-clipped blond hair and wiry build were the same. Most champion riders were small men. Conner wasn’t much over five foot nine, but he’d always had a steely confidence about him. The girls who’d swarmed around him in high school had liked comparing him to Steve McQueen.

“Travis! I’ll be damned!” A grin lit his face as he moved forward, limping slightly on a stiffened right leg. “You’re lookin’ good, man! Sorry you can’t say the same for me.”

They shook hands and buddy-hugged. “I’m just glad you’re here,” Travis said. “Come on in. I’ll make you some eggs and coffee. Then we’ll get you unloaded. Or if you just want to crash, your room’s ready.”

“Coffee and eggs sounds fine. I drove all night, but I’m too wired to sleep. Besides, I’m anxious to get a look at the place.”

“Not much to look at,” Travis said. “You can see the house and barn from here. The horses are out in the field. And here’s the rest of the crew.”

At the sound of a visitor, Bucket had come racing around the house. Too well-trained to jump on Conner, he circled his boots, wagging and looking up at him.

“Hello, boy.” Conner scratched the scruffy mutt’s ears, then drew back. “Good Lord, he stinks!”

Travis chuckled. “You think he’s bad now, you should’ve smelled him a couple days ago. His name’s Bucket. I wasn’t keen on having him at first, but he’s turned out to be a pretty good horse wrangler.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll make friends with him after he airs out a little. Let me grab a few things, and I’ll meet you in the house.”

“What’s in the trailer?” Travis asked.

Conner grinned. “That’s my new horse. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Intrigued, Travis followed his friend around the trailer. Conner hadn’t said anything about bringing a horse, only that he couldn’t ride anymore.

Conner unlocked the back of the trailer and flung open the doors. “Here she is! What d’you think?”

Travis stared at the four-seat, four-wheeler ATV. He burst out laughing. “That’s some horse!” he said.

“Thanks. Traded most of my gun collection for it. I was looking for a two-seater, but I was running out of time, and the price was right. Figured it might come in handy out here.”

“That it will, especially since neither of us can ride worth a dang. Come on in and wash up. You can get settled while I fix us some breakfast.”

Fifteen minutes later, Travis had bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee ready in the kitchen. Conner came in wearing a clean sweatshirt, his face and hair glistening with water. He took a seat at the table while Travis dished up the food and poured the coffee.

“So tell me about this place,” Conner said. “I drove through Branding Iron on my way here. Can’t say much for what I saw. What does a broken-down cowboy do for a good time around here?”