Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 3)

He’d finished shaking out the tree and was handing it off to Travis when Rush pulled his Hummer through the gate and climbed out. “Hey, Rush!” Travis shouted. “You’re just in time! We need to get these trees unloaded before the storm hits.”

As the tall, dark vet hurried to help, Conner glanced up at the sky. Clouds were rushing like a buffalo stampede across the sky, driven by a biting wind that blew the snow sideways, ahead of the main storm. The cold cut through Conner’s light fleece jacket as he picked up the pace, forcing even the thought of his dream woman from his mind.

By the time the partners finished unloading the trees and propping them against the racks in the front yard, clouds of snow were swirling out of the sky. Conner stayed outside long enough to park the ATV, unhitch the trailer, and pull both under the cover of the shed. Then he waded back through the storm and joined his friends and Bucket inside the house.

As he shoved the door closed against the wind, he could feel the warmth of the potbellied iron stove and smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Nobody had taken time to stock up on groceries, but Rush had picked up a dozen fresh doughnuts at Shop Mart on his way here. Four doughnuts for each hungry man. That sounded about right.

“I guess we could’ve ordered pizza from Buckaroo’s,” Travis said. “But I don’t think the delivery boy could make it through the storm. It’s brutal out there, especially now that it’s getting dark.”

“I’ve read stories about weather like this.” Rush poured three mugs of coffee and passed them around the table. “In the old days, sometimes farmers had to string a rope between the house and the barn to keep from getting lost on the way.”

“Well, that shouldn’t happen here,” Travis said. “I fed and watered the horses a couple of hours ago. They should be fine till morning. And since we sold off our steers last month, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Except me,” Rush said. “If I don’t leave now, I might not make it home.”

“At least you’ve got a reason to get home,” Conner said. “If I had a woman like Tracy waiting for me, I’d drive through the blizzard of 1899 to get to her.”

Rush grinned as he buttoned his coat. “Eat your heart out,” he said. “As a consolation prize, you boys can have my share of the doughnuts. Stay warm.”

He opened the door. Wind tore the knob out of his hand, blasting cold and snow into the house as the door slammed inward against the wall. Conner sprang to shove it closed again. Bracing with his body, he waited until he heard Rush’s Hummer start up before sliding the bolt into place.

“Rush will be all right.” Travis seemed to read Conner’s concern. “That big Hummer drives like a tank. It can go anywhere. Sit down. Have another doughnut.”

Conner sank onto a chair and refilled his coffee mug. In the box on the table, six doughnuts remained. They looked about as appetizing as lumps of Play-Doh. “I never thought I could get tired of doughnuts,” he said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have a juicy slab of prime rib, medium rare, with potatoes and gravy.”

“Good luck with that,” Travis said. “Even the freezer’s empty. What happened to all those women who were bringing you cookies and casseroles?”

“They must’ve given up on me.”

“Maybe word’s gotten around about Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em, Conner Branch. Women do talk, you know. Have your ears been burning?”

“If they did burn, I’d be too busy to notice.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows and howled around the eaves of the old frame house. It’s a mournful sound, Conner thought. A lonesome sound.

Travis refilled his coffee mug and reached for another doughnut. “Well, since you’re going to be out here alone after the wedding, maybe it’s time you thought about finding a steady girlfriend, or even a wife to keep you warm on nights like this. You’re getting too old to be a player.”

“Old? Hell, I’m no older than you are.”

“But I’m the one who’s getting married.”

Conner was groping for a sharp comeback when his cell phone jangled. His first thought was that Rush had run off the road and was stranded somewhere. But the number on the caller ID wasn’t Rush’s. Curious, he took the call.

“Conner, this is Sam Perkins.”

Conner recognized the booming voice and name of a neighbor who lived down the highway, past the turnoff to the ranch.

“Hey, Sam, is everything all right?”

“Well, not exactly,” Sam said. “I just made it home in this blizzard. When I drove by the turnoff to your place, I noticed your sign was loose, just hangin’ by one corner from the post. If the wind catches it, it could be in the next county by morning.”

“Oh, blast it. Thanks, Sam. I guess somebody here had better make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Conner cursed the storm as he ended the call. Two months ago, the partners had invested five hundred dollars in a professionally made sign to mark the turnoff to Christmas Tree Ranch. They’d mounted it on heavy metal posts, but evidently the job hadn’t been secure enough to hold up to a storm like this one.

The sign was too valuable to lose. Somebody would need to go out and recover it.

“Somebody?” Travis raised an eyebrow.