My Kind of Christmas Page 8

  “Sure,” Travis said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.” And they did. The trees they wanted to sell would need to be shaped and groomed. They’d need tools, a way to haul the trees, a place to set up their business, and probably a business license. They were facing a mountain of work—starting now.

  Since Conner’s Jeep was still hitched to the trailer, they took Travis’s pickup into town. They’d meant to leave Bucket behind, but as the truck pulled out of the gate, Bucket took a flying leap and landed in the truck bed. When Conner glanced back through the rear windshield, the perky, black and white face was looking back at him.

  “Well, at least nobody will bother the truck,” Conner said. “Folks will be able to smell that dog halfway down the block.”

  Travis chuckled. It had occurred to him to wonder whether Bucket would be all right in the truck. But half the pickups he’d seen in Branding Iron had dogs riding in the back. Also, he’d scrubbed Bucket’s collar, with the license attached, and put it back around the dog’s neck, so if he did jump out, people would know he wasn’t a stray.

  Travis knew he worried too much. But it was a lifelong habit he couldn’t seem to shake. He worried about his friends; he worried about strangers; he even worried about fool dogs. It couldn’t be helped.

  Sometimes he even worried about Mayor Maggie and her search for a Santa. But given who she had in mind for the job, he could only wish her luck. The one person he didn’t worry about was Hank Miller.

  “So I guess this is our competition coming up.” Conner’s voice broke into his thoughts. Just ahead, on the right-hand side of the highway, he could see Hank’s Hardware and its outside lot already half full of Christmas trees. A truck loaded with flattened trees was backing up to the gate to unload more. Hank, in khakis and a fleece jacket, stood outside giving directions.

  “He’s got a great location and plenty of trees to choose from,” Conner said.

  “Yeah,” Travis agreed. “He’s got the only tree lot this side of Cottonwood Springs, and he makes a killing every year. But look at the trees coming off that truck. It’s probably been a week, at least, since they were cut. Then they’re flattened in shipment and have to stand until the boughs spread out again. By then they’re already half dried, and they’ve lost most of their scent. By the time somebody gets them home, they’re starting to shed needles.”

  “I get your drift,” Conner said. “We can offer folks fresh-cut trees. All we have to do is get set up and put the word out.”

  “Easier said than done.” Travis turned onto Main Street and headed for Buckaroo’s. “The season’s about to start. If we’re going to do this, we’ll need to work fast and work smart.”

  “Gotcha. We can make some plans while we eat.” Conner glanced back at the Christmas tree lot, which was behind them now. “I’m guessing that fellow won’t be too happy when we start cutting into his profits.”

  “I don’t give a damn about him and his profits,” Travis said. “We have as much right to sell trees as that self-serving sonofabitch does.”

  “Whoa!” Conner frowned at him. “Is there something going on here that I need to know about?”

  Travis turned onto Main Street and headed for Buckaroo’s. “You’ll find out sooner or later, so it might as well be now. That man’s my father.”

  * * *

  Maggie was returning from an errand at the high school when she drove past Buckaroo’s and saw Travis’s truck in the parking lot with the dog in the back.

  Torn between hard bravery and easy cowardice, she pulled her car to the curb. Painful as her last parting from Travis had been, she had a job to do. Part of that job was keeping communication open with the owner of the sleigh and horses.

  With a sigh, she climbed out of the car. Bucket had spotted her. He was yipping and wagging his tail. Fearing he might jump out of the truck bed, she walked over to greet him.

  “Hi, boy!” She scratched his silky head. He still smelled of skunk, but nothing like before. “What are you doing out here?”

  Bucket wagged his tail and licked her hand.

  “You stay and watch the truck, okay? If you’re still here when I come back, I’ll stop by. Stay, now.”

  Bucket looked forlorn, but didn’t try to follow her. As she walked toward the door of Buckaroo’s, she felt a knot of tension in the pit of her stomach. Would Travis be friendly or hostile? Never mind. Whatever he felt toward her, she was braced. She was not about to let him humiliate her again.

  Chapter 7

  Maggie took a deep breath and opened the door to the café. It was a small place and not crowded after the lunch rush. There was no way Travis wouldn’t see her come in. But would he greet her or pretend not to notice she was there?

  The familiar smells of frying food and the murmur of cooking and conversation washed over her as she walked in. The aging sound system was playing an old Hank Williams song. She saw Travis right away. He was sitting in the corner booth, deep in conversation with a wiry, blond stranger. That must be Conner, the friend he’d said was coming to stay with him.

  They had beers but no food yet, and they seemed intent on talking. Travis had a pen and appeared to be jotting notes on a paper napkin.

  She almost turned around and left. But then she mustered her courage and walked over to their table. Both men looked up as she cleared her throat.

  “Hello, gentlemen. Please don’t get up,” she said.

  “Hello, Maggie.” What do you think you’re doing here? Travis’s expression seemed to say.

  “I won’t keep you,” she said. “I just need a moment. It’s business.”

  Sure it is. It’s always business with you. His look made her feel about two feet tall.

  “Well, you can sit down, at least!” Conner grinned and scooted over to make room for her next to him. “Join us. We’ve ordered an extra-large combo pizza. There’ll be more than enough for everybody. We can make a party of it!”

  Travis looked pained. “Maggie, this is my friend and partner, Conner Branch. Conner, it’s my pleasure to present the honorable Mayor Maggie Delaney.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Conner was a blue-eyed charmer. “Come on, sit down. What’ll you have to drink?”

  Maggie hesitated, about to decline. But this friendly, handsome cowboy was a potential ally. She couldn’t afford to turn him down. She sat, giving him a smile. “Thanks. I’ll just have a small Coke.”

  “Coming up!” He caught the waitress’s attention—which hadn’t wandered far from him—and gave her the order before turning back to Maggie. “You’re really the mayor?”

  “I am,” Maggie said. “My father was mayor of Branding Iron for years. When he got sick, I came home to take care of him. After he passed away, I was elected in his place.”

  “You said you had some business, Maggie.” Travis looked dour.

  “Yes. I’ll get right to it,” she said. “Since you won’t be playing Santa, there’s no reason for you to keep the costume. I hope you won’t mind my coming by to pick it up. That way I can get it cleaned and ready for the next Santa—whoever that might be.”

  “Feel free. The box is still in the sleigh. Anything else?”

  “Well, maybe. I did some checking. If you don’t want to store the sleigh, there’s room for it in the city equipment shed. We’d just need to tow it into town on the flatbed. Unfortunately, you’re still stuck with the horses. Nobody I’ve talked to is willing to take them.”

  Travis shrugged. “Whatever. If you’ve got room for the sleigh, you might as well—”

  “Wait!” Conner shot forward in his seat, almost spilling his beer. “We’ve got a sleigh?”

  “I mentioned it on the phone,” Travis said. “It’s in the shed, next to where we parked your ATV.”

  “Who owns the sleigh, Maggie? The city?”

  “No,” Maggie said. “Abner built it years ago. It was his.”

  “So now it belongs to Travis, right?”

  “I suppo
se so.” Maggie could imagine wheels turning inside Conner’s head.

  “So, if you don’t mind, we’ll keep it for now. All right, Travis?”

  “Fine.”

  “But we can still use it in the parade?” Maggie asked.

  “I suppose so,” Travis said. “As long as the city picks it up.”

  “And brings it back right after the parade,” Conner added.

  Just then the waitress, a plain-looking girl who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, appeared with their pizza and Maggie’s Coke. When Conner thanked her with a smile and a wink, her thin face flushed a becoming pink. The man was a natural-born flirt, Maggie observed. Heaven help the female population of Branding Iron if he stuck around.

  But she was immune, she realized. Her eyes were only for the sad, angry ex-cop.

  The men fell to eating. Maggie chose the smallest slice of pizza and nibbled on it while she sipped her Coke. Just then a family walked in—two parents, a little girl, and a boy who appeared to be about twelve. Maggie didn’t recognize them, but she surmised they must not be local. If they were, the children would be in school at this hour. Maybe they were traveling.

  They had just seated themselves when the boy started staring in their direction. Suddenly he jumped out of his chair and, before his parents could stop him, raced over to where Maggie, Travis, and Conner were sitting.

  “You’re Conner Branch, aren’t you?” His eyes were wide with wonder, his young face split in a wide grin. “I’ve seen you on TV. You’re the best bull rider ever! I want to be just like you!”

  Conner gave him a friendly smile. “Then I hope you don’t get hurt like me,” he said.

  “I know. I saw you get hurt. I cried when they said you’d never ride again.”

  “I cried, too.” Conner reached past Maggie and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m right pleased to meet you, son. What’s your name?”

  “Jamie. Jamie Foster. Can I please have your autograph?”

  “Sure. My pleasure.” Conner took a fresh napkin from the dispenser, lifted the pen from Travis’s hand, and scrawled a brief message and a signature on the napkin.

  “Wow! Thanks! I’ll keep this forever!” The boy took the napkin and scampered back to his family. Conner gave them a smile, tipped an invisible hat, and turned his attention back to his lunch companions.

  “Heavens, we’ve got a celebrity in town,” Maggie joked. “I’m sorry I never saw you ride.”

  “What you’ve got is a washed-up has-been struggling to become something else,” Conner said. “But as long as you’re here, Maggie, I have a question for you. How do we go about getting a business license?”

  “The county clerk’s office should be able to help you with that,” Maggie said. “What kind of business do you have in mind?”

  Conner grinned. “You’re never going to believe this, but we’ve found a—”

  “Actually, we’re keeping it under wraps for a while,” Travis said, cutting him off. “You’ll find out soon enough, but for now, it’s a secret project.” He glanced at his friend. “Right, Conner?”

  “Uh, yeah. Right.” Conner gave Maggie an awkward smile. “So don’t even ask.”

  Maggie took her cue. “Well, I need to get back to the office,” she said, rising. “Is it still all right for me to come and get the Santa costume?”

  “Anytime,” Travis said. “If nobody’s home, just take the box.”

  “Will do. Thanks for sharing your lunch.” Maggie made her exit. Walking back to her car, she saw that Bucket was still in the truck bed. She stopped long enough to scratch his ears and tell him he was a good boy. Then she got in her car and headed back to work.

  Something was up with Travis and Conner—something that Travis, at least, didn’t want her to know about. She couldn’t help being curious. But Travis had made it clear that it was none of her business. For now, she had little choice except to respect his wishes.

  * * *

  “So she’s the one!” Conner chuckled as the door closed behind Maggie. “I don’t know about you, but a woman like that could use me any damned way she wanted to.”

  “What makes you think she’s the one?” Travis growled.

  “Are you kidding? The way the two of you were looking every which way but at each other—polite strangers don’t behave like that.” Conner finished his beer. “Man, she’s a goddess. Do you know who she reminds me of ?”

  “I can hardly wait to find out.”

  “Did you ever see the TV show Mad Men? That gorgeous redhead? Christina Hendricks—that’s the actress who played her. Do you know who I mean?”

  Travis did. But he wasn’t ready to admit it. “I didn’t watch much TV in prison,” he said.

  “Your Maggie’s even got the same figure.”

  “Cut it out, Conner. And she’s not my Maggie.”

  “Oh? You could’ve fooled me. I’d have hit on her myself, but I got the feeling she only had eyes for you.”

  “I said cut it out. We’re not in high school anymore.”

  “Oh, all right.” Conner fished in his wallet for some bills, which he laid on the table. “But why did you stop me when I started to tell her about the trees? I thought we’d want the whole town to know. And who better to spread the word than the mayor?”

  “It’s a little early to spread the word. We need to be sure we can do this. And we need to have our plan in place.” Travis rose, stuffed the napkin with their notes into his pocket, and stepped away from the booth. “Besides, Maggie’s good friends with Hank. We don’t want her sharing our plans with him.”

  “You mean your father? The man who owns the hardware store?”

  “That’s right.” He led the way to the door and walked outside. “He’s had a monopoly on the Christmas tree business for years. If he finds out we’ll be competing with him, there’s no telling what he might do to stop us.”

  “Like what?” Limping, Conner still managed to keep pace with him.

  “Maybe call a lawyer and find some petty excuse to shut us down. Maybe spread some ugly stories, or even pay somebody to sabotage the trees.”

  “Wow. You really don’t think much of that guy, do you? What happened between you two anyway?”

  Travis shook his head. “That’s a story for another time. What do you say we drop by the city and county building and pick up the application for our business license? We can fill out the forms when we get home.”

  They had reached the truck, where Bucket greeted them with wags and yips. Travis gave him the sliver of pizza he’d saved. The dog wolfed it down.

  “You’re spoiling that mutt,” Conner said.

  “Makes more sense than spoiling a woman. At least dogs don’t have a hidden agenda.” Travis climbed into the cab and waited for Conner to walk around and get in on the passenger side.

  “Man, you must’ve really been burned,” Conner said. “When did you figure out Maggie was using you?”

  “When I laid it on the line and she told me the truth.” Travis started the truck and pulled out of the parking space. “She wanted me to mend fences with Hank so he’d agree to play Santa Claus in the Christmas parade, with me handling the sleigh.”

  “Given what you’ve told me, I’d guess that was a deal-breaker. Too bad.”

  “She was playing up to me, helping me unload furniture—all a waste of her precious time,” Travis said. “Even if I was willing to work with Hank, there’s no way I could manage those big horses, especially in a crowd of people. I don’t know the first thing about it.”

  “I can hitch and drive a team,” Conner said. “I did it on my grandpa’s farm when I was a kid. Maybe I ought to call Maggie and volunteer.”

  “Think about it,” Travis said. “By Christmas week, if all goes well, we’ll be cutting into Hank’s profits big-time. He won’t want anything to do with either of us.”

  “If Hank’s the one who ends up playing Santa. Hey, you could do it. Just put a couple of red pillows in that red suit.
It would be great for business. And think how happy it would make Maggie.”

  Travis gave him a scowl. “No comment. If you want to talk, let’s talk about something else.”

  They drove down Main Street in silence before Conner took his cue and changed the subject. “Say, if we’re going to apply for a license, we’ll need a name for our business. Have you got any ideas?”

  “Not off the top of my head,” Travis said. “We need something about Christmas trees. And some way for folks to know that they’ll be buying them fresh from the ranch, not from a lot in town . . .”

  “Then how about Christmas Tree Ranch?” Conner suggested.

  “Christmas Tree Ranch . . .” Travis repeated the name in his mind. “Christmas Tree Ranch. That’s perfect.”

  “Hot damn!” Conner grinned. “We’re really doing this! And we’re already on our way!”

  * * *

  Maggie glanced out of her window in time to see Travis’s pickup, with Bucket in the back, pulling up to the county wing of the building that housed the clerk’s office. It appeared that Travis and Conner were on their way to apply for a business license.

  She understood why Travis had kept Conner from sharing their plans. She’d crushed his male ego the last time they’d met, and Travis was not a forgiving man. His rebuff had stung her. Even so, she couldn’t help being curious. Conner had started to say that they’d found something on the ranch when Travis cut him off. And then, when Travis had agreed to let the city take the sleigh, it was Conner who had stopped him.

  What was going on?

  Maggie tried to tell herself it was none of her business. But whatever affected Branding Iron’s Christmas celebration was her business. As mayor, anything that went wrong would be her responsibility.

  She could pay a visit to the county clerk’s office later and sneak a look at the application. But snooping was beneath the dignity of her office. The only honest way to learn what the two men were up to would be to win back Travis’s trust. And that wasn’t going to be easy.

  It was time to get some good, old-fashioned advice.

  She busied herself with other things until Travis’s truck had left the parking lot. Then, knowing better than to use her office line, she took her cell phone out of her purse and called Francine’s number.