“I’m guessing he doesn’t care as long as he hurts us—or mainly, hurts me,” Travis said. “Besides, he’s probably got enough cash socked away to take the hit.”
“At least it’s only for today,” Rush said. “We’ll be back on even footing tomorrow.”
“Except that a lot of people will have bought their trees by now,” Travis said. “They won’t be coming out to buy again. And for half price, they won’t care if the needles are falling off the tree by Christmas.”
Conner’s string of curses ended when he realized Gracie was listening. He murmured a quick apology, then turned back to Travis. “I don’t care if he is your father. This is a dirty trick. We need to get him back—and get him good.”
“With another dirty trick?” Travis shook his head. “Why bother? All it’ll do is waste our time and add more poison to the well. We’re better off figuring out how to get more people out here and sell more trees.”
“So let’s put our heads together,” Rush said. “What could we do that we haven’t done?”
“I have an idea!” Gracie’s childish voice spoke up. “How about flyers? You could leave them on all the doors.”
“Now that’s a thought,” Travis said. “Not everyone has seen our signs. And not everyone will have bought Hank’s trees. But how would we make them?”
“I can make you one,” Gracie said. “It’ll have trees and the fire and the s’mores on it, and it’ll say everything that’s on your sign.”
“She really is a good artist.” Jubal glowed with fatherly pride. “The school and office supply shop on Main Street has a copy machine you could use. It might cost a little—”
“If it gets people out, it’ll be worth it,” Travis said. “Go for it, Gracie. I know you’ll come up with a great flyer. We can make copies as soon as you’re finished, and pay our teenagers and their friends to deliver them. We’ll pay you, too, Gracie.”
Gracie shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t have to pay me! It’ll be fun!”
“Then how about a free sleigh ride and all the s’mores your family can eat?” Conner asked.
“Yes!” Gracie grabbed her father’s hand and tugged him toward their truck, which already had their tree loaded in the back. “Come on, Daddy! Time for me to get to work!”
Conner laughed as the truck drove away. “You know, I wouldn’t mind having a kid if I knew she’d turn out like that one!”
Rush turned away as if to hide his expression. Travis remembered his mentioning a daughter, but he never talked about her. Was he hiding a secret sorrow? Travis respected his new friend’s privacy too much to ask. Still, he wondered.
But there was no time to think about that now. Another out-of-town customer was coming up the road—and it was starting to snow again.
* * *
By the next morning the snow was deep enough to shovel. As the day bloomed under a clear, azure sky, children romped in the snow, made snow angels, and staged snowball wars. Cars crawled along white-packed streets or waited for Branding Iron’s only snowplow to come and clear the way.
When Maggie came outside to shovel, she found a flyer under her door, with fresh sneaker tracks leading up and down the front walk. Picking up the flyer, she smiled. Travis and his partners were doing their best to hold their own against Hank.
The older man, she knew, had sold a lot of trees yesterday. Driving home from her office late in the day, she’d spotted more than a few trees on porches or in windows. But today, unless he extended the sale, he would be back to his regular prices. And Christmas Tree Ranch had fresh trees for about the same average cost, along with treats and fun for the families who came. The flyers, once people read them, should give the ranch more business.
After Maggie had shoveled the walk and driveway, she got her purse, backed out of the garage, and drove down Main Street. Saturday shoppers, enjoying the sunshine after the storm, strolled up and down the sidewalks looking at the Christmas displays in the shop windows. The snow was barely six inches deep on the lawns, less on the walks and roads. More than twice that depth would be needed for the sleigh. But if the ranch could offer sleigh rides, even the families who’d already bought trees from Hank would want to visit.
Maggie glanced up at the clear blue sky and offered a silent prayer for more storms.
The Shop Mart parking lot was full. Maggie knew the aisles would be crowded and the checkout lines tediously long, but she needed groceries, and there was no place else to get them.
At the bakery counter, she stopped to chat with Katy. The young woman was glowing. Having Down syndrome was clearly no barrier to being head over heels in love.
“Look what Daniel gave me!” She slipped off one vinyl glove and held out her hand to show Maggie a dainty silver ring adorned with a little blue stone. “He says it’s a friendship ring. It means we really like each other.”
“It’s lovely, Katy.” Maggie ordered two loaves of sliced whole-grain bread. She could see Daniel at one of the check-out stands, chatting with an old woman as he wheeled her loaded cart toward the exit. He seemed like a nice boy. For Katy’s sake, Maggie hoped so.
The checkout lines were long and slow. Maggie took her place in the nearest one and willed herself to be patient. She was tapping her foot and humming along with the Christmas music on the speaker when she heard a pleasant voice.
“Maggie, goodness, that’s you! I’ve been behind you for five minutes, but my mind’s been on other things or I would’ve said hello sooner.”
Even before she turned around, Maggie recognized the speaker. Connie Parker, Katy’s mother, was behind her in the line with a loaded cart. A thin, graying woman, she was married to Silas Parker, who owned the garage. God had never made two better people than Connie and Silas—at least that’s what Maggie thought.