My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 1)

Maggie brought her the coffee on a tray, which she placed on a side table. “Go ahead, take off your shoes. I won’t mind a bit,” she said. “I don’t know how you manage to work in heels.”

“Long habit, honey.” Francine slipped off her red pumps and let them drop to the floor. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your troubles. Hank told me you went to see him a while back.”

“Yes, we had a good talk. But he and Travis still haven’t made peace. And I couldn’t talk him into playing Santa Claus. I was hoping you could talk to him again.”

“I could try,” Francine said. “But Hank’s a proud, stubborn man. When he digs in his heels, it’s like moving a mountain.” She added a dollop of cream and two cubes of sugar to her coffee and took a sip. “What about the sleigh? Have you got that lined up?”

“Conner’s said all along that he’d be willing to drive the sleigh and handle the horses. But he doesn’t want to be Santa, and even if he’d do it, he wouldn’t look the part.”

“He’s the rodeo cowboy, right? I’ve seen him in Shop Mart. My stars and garters!” Francine cooled herself with an imaginary fan. “I wanted to wrap him up with a big red bow and take him home. And that other man—the tall, dark, quiet one. He looks like a young George Clooney! I tell you, the female hormone level in this town has skyrocketed since those three took over the ranch.”

Maggie had to smile. “I know what you

mean. But we’re talking about finding a Santa for the kids, not the women. That’s why we need Hank. With the suit and beard, he’d look like the real deal. And I’ve watched him pass out treats when the families come in for trees. I can tell he likes kids. Couldn’t we use that angle—that he should do it for the little ones?”

“I already tried that, honey. At first, I thought it might work, but in the end, he just dug in his heels again.”

“Oh dear.” Maggie’s shoulders drooped. “But there’s got to be a way to change his mind. If Conner drives the sleigh, maybe Hank would—”

“It’s not enough. He’s waiting for Travis.”

“So am I. I’ve told Travis that we can’t move on together until he settles this. But Travis isn’t ready. In a way, I understand. It’s not so much a question of making peace with his father; his real struggle is making peace with himself.” Maggie sighed. “I guess we’ve hit a dead end, haven’t we?”

Francine sank deeper into her chair. “Too bad we can’t get old Abner back. He was such a great Santa. I can still picture him in that sleigh, laughing and waving at the kids, with that cute black and white dog sitting next to him, wearing its own Santa hat. The kids loved that.”

“Abner’s dog is at the ranch now,” Maggie said. “His name is Bucket, and he’s super smart. Travis says he even herds the horses in and out of the pasture. He’s—”

Maggie broke off as a new idea struck her.

“What is it?” Francine asked her. “I can almost see the wheels turning in your head.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Try me, honey.”

“Think last-ditch, back-to-the-wall Plan B. If we can’t get anybody else, Bucket could be our Santa.”

“How’s that again?”

“Think about it. If we give the kids a fake-looking Santa, they won’t be happy. But most of them already know Bucket. He’s been in the parade almost every year of their lives, and they love him. He wouldn’t be Santa Claus, but he’d be like . . . like the spirit of Santa.” She gazed at Francine, who still looked skeptical. “What do you think?”

Francine gave a shake of her Dolly Parton curls. “It’s one crazy idea. But I agree with you that a dog Santa would be better than a human Santa who didn’t look the part. And having Abner’s dog there would be like a tribute to the old man. Do you think Bucket would stay on the seat and behave?”

“Abner did a great job of training him. I’m sure he’d stay, especially if someone he knew was in the driver’s seat.”

“I could make him a little red cape to wear, with a furry collar and bells around the edge.” Francine was getting into the idea.

“Of course, it would still be best if Hank would play Santa,” Maggie said. “Bucket could wear the costume and ride with him.”

“I’ll keep working on him, honey, but don’t count on it. Meanwhile, you’d better make sure you can count on the sleigh and the dog.”

“I’ll go this afternoon,” Maggie said. “The guys will be busy at the ranch, but I’ll only need a few minutes to talk to them.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be on my way home to make roast beef dinner for my man.” Francine rose and crammed her swollen feet into her pumps, put on her coat, and tottered out to her car.

Maggie put on fresh jeans and a dark green sweater, touched up her makeup, and brushed her hair before she went out to the garage. The past couple of days had been above freezing, and the snow had begun to melt—good for the roads and sidewalks, but not for the sleigh ride business or the upcoming parade. As she backed out of the garage, she sent up a silent prayer for more snow.

On Main Street, mounds of shoveled snow were thawing and running into the gutters. Shoppers bustled in and out of stores, getting their errands done while the weather was fair. “The Little Drummer Boy” boomed over the speakers in the park.