Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(52)



“In sunny Hawaii. You’ll be the envy of every man on the beach.” Conner filled his plate and coffee mug and began wolfing down his breakfast. The muddy conditions meant that he and Travis would have to work together felling the trees, keeping them clear of the ground. With Rush gone, that would mean leaving the front-yard tree lot unattended—not that they expected customers this morning. For now, they would have to hang a CLOSED sign on the gate until Rush showed up to lend a hand.

Twenty minutes later, they had the ATV out of the shed and the small two-wheeled flatbed hitched onto the back. Bucket caught up with them and made a flying leap onto the backseat as they passed the barn and headed out of the yard.

The narrow, rutted trail skimmed the pastures and crossed the scrubby foothills to the hollow where the dark green pine trees stood like a miniature forest against the gray landscape. The thawing snow had left a thick layer of mud that clung to the tires and made a plopping sound as the wheels turned. In low spots, the ATV sank almost to its axles before roaring back onto more solid ground.

After turning around and parking at the edge of the trees, they began harvesting, one man cutting through the trunk with the chain saw, the other catching the tree as it fell and carrying it to the trailer. Switching places as needed, they worked at a brisk pace. In less than an hour, the flatbed trailer was piled with freshly cut trees. As he helped Travis wrap the load with a long, stout rope, Conner filled his senses with their spicy fragrance. For him, the fresh aroma held all the magic of Christmas. And this Christmas just might be the best one of his life.

Travis pulled the rope ends together and tied them into a knot to secure the trees to the flatbed for the ride back to the ranch. There the trailer would be hitched to his pickup and hauled by back roads to the lot outside Hank’s Hardware.

Whistling for Bucket, who’d gone off on his own, they climbed into the front seat of the ATV. Conner had just started the engine when the dog came flying out of the trees and leapt into the backseat. Before settling down, he shook his fur, scattering mud in all directions. By then, Travis and Conner were too dirty to mind.

As they drove back toward the ranch yard, it became clear that the added weight on the trailer was going to be a problem. The wheels, which were sunk axle deep in mud, could barely turn. The ATV had to be run full throttle to keep the trailer inching along. Conner began to wonder whether they should unload half the trees and leave them behind, to be picked up later. But with the ATV’s engine roaring in their ears, there was no way for Travis to hear his suggestion. There was also the problem that any trees they unloaded would have to be left in the mud. It was too bad they hadn’t thought to bring a canvas tarp along. But that was his own fault, Conner berated himself. A man ten days from his wedding couldn’t be held accountable for such details.

They were not quite halfway back to the yard when the trailer stopped with a lurch, its two wheels hopelessly mired. Conner gunned the engine, but the ATV’s wheels only spun in the mud without moving forward.

Cursing, Conner shut down the vehicle and Travis got out to check the trailer. After a quick look, he shook his head. “We can’t pull it out. We’re going to have to dig around the wheels. Toss me the shovel.”

A short-handled shovel was kept under the backseat of the ATV. Unfortunately, there was only one. Conner found it and handed it to Travis. “If we unhitch the trailer, I can run the ATV back to the ranch for another shovel and a tarp so we can unload some of the trees,” he said. “Or I could bring the pickup. It’ll have more power.”

“Don’t bother.” Travis thrust the shovel blade into the muck. “It won’t take me fifteen minutes to free these wheels.”

While Travis shoveled, Conner helped by gathering rocks and chunks of brush to shove under the trailer wheels. The work was harder than they’d expected, every shovelful of water-soaked mud like a leaden weight. By the time Travis had dug out one wheel, he was ready for a rest. Conner took over to free the second wheel. By the time the wheels were free and braced underneath, both men were worn-out.

“You drive,” Travis said. “I’ll stay back here, watch the wheels, and push if I need to.”

Conner climbed into the driver’s seat and whistled for Bucket, who jumped onto the backseat. Switching on the ignition, he put the ATV in low gear. “Ready?” he called, glancing back at Travis.

“Gun it!” Travis said.

Conner stomped on the accelerator. The engine roared as the ATV strained forward. The load behind moved, but only a little. Conner slowed to an idle. “Is everything okay back there?” he asked.

“Fine. You almost made it out. Let me get behind and push. That should do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’ll be fine,” Travis said. “All right, on the count of three, one . . . two . . . three!”

Conner revved the engine. The ATV roared forward as the trailer wheels jerked free and moved forward. Suddenly there was a terrible, splintering crash. Conner cut the engine, turned in the seat, and looked back on a nightmare scene.

The load of stacked trees had been secured by a rope going from one side of the trailer to the other. But there’d been nothing to keep them from sliding off the back.

Where Travis had stood to push the trailer from behind, there was nothing but a big mound of trees, still settling from the fall.



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