Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(67)
He swung his legs off the bed and stood. The floor was icy cold. Finding his worn sheepskin slippers under the bed, he thrust his feet into them, grabbed his robe off the back of the door, and followed the dog into the living room.
Bucket scratched at the door, needing to get out. Conner hobbled across the room, feeling the pain in his hip, which was always worse when he first got out of bed. Maybe there’d be enough snow for more sleigh rides. He could only hope.
Reaching for the bolt, he slid it back, then turned the knob and opened the door.
The cold air hit him like a shock. But it was what he saw that stopped his breath. Snow—at least eighteen inches deep—covered everything in sight.
The overhanging roof had kept most of it off the porch, but the front steps were buried, as well as the road, the driveway, the vehicles, and the cut trees in the front yard. Racing past him to the steps, Bucket plunged into deep snow over his head. Recovering from his surprise, the dog began romping and diving in the white stuff.
Luckily, there was a snow shovel on the porch. Conner pulled on his boots, coat, and gloves over the long underwear he slept in, and managed to clear the steps and a spot for Bucket to do his business. Then he called the dog inside, lit a fire in the stove, and got dressed again, in warm layers. He would need to shovel a path to the barn so the horses could be fed and cared for. Rush would be along later, but with Travis gone, the early-morning chores were Conner’s job.
Forty minutes later, with the path shoveled and the horses taken care of, he was back in the house. He was warming himself by the potbellied stove when he heard his cell phone, which he’d left in the bedroom.
He raced down the hall to answer it, hoping it was Megan calling. But no, the name on the caller ID was Travis’s.
“Have you got the TV on?” Travis sounded agitated.
“I haven’t tried it yet,” Conner said. “You know how the snow messes with the satellite dish. Why? Has something happened?”
Travis sighed. “Maggie’s beside herself. The snow drifted onto a low section of the church roof. The roof caved in from the weight. Now we don’t have a place for the wedding.”
Chapter 15
Megan saw video shots of the ruined church that morning, after her father turned on the TV. Her first thought was Oh no! Poor Maggie! First the accident, and now this!
The wedding invitation had been waiting when Megan returned from Nashville. Maggie and Travis were set to be married five days from now in the church—the only church in town, the church that was now unusable. The entire building had been cordoned off, Christmas decorations and all, with yards of ugly yellow crime-scene tape. TV cameras showed the beautiful old chapel, with its hand-carved pews and pulpit, buried in snow and debris. It wasn’t just Maggie’s wedding that had been spoiled. Branding Iron had lost a treasure, a place for services, weddings, funerals, and community support.
Maggie and Travis could still get married—at home, in the courthouse, or somewhere in Cottonwood Springs. But there was no place that would accommodate the guests they’d invited to the wedding, and no place where Maggie, a vision in her white gown and floating veil, could make that long-dreamed-of walk down the aisle to marry the man she loved.
The thought of it made Megan want to cry. She weighed the idea of calling Maggie, but she had nothing to offer except sympathy, and the last thing her friend would want now was a ringing phone.
She could call Conner . . . but that was out of the question. She and Conner were history. He had played her for a fool, and she had too much pride to beg for his attention, like poor Ronda May.
She’d spent a restless night, thinking about him as she tossed and turned on the couch. She’d replayed their final conversation over and over, remembering every word of what was said. In the end, she had to concede that the breakup had been as much her fault as his. If she’d laughed off the fact that he’d guessed her secret, they would still be a couple. But she hadn’t been that smart. Instead, she’d chosen to be offended and to judge his intentions.
Had her stubborn pride been worth losing him? Would she get another chance, or was it already too late for forgiveness?
There was nothing to do but wait—wait for her mother’s decision on the driving school; wait for a decision on the teaching job; wait three more days for the Cowboy Christmas Ball, where she would perform as Lacy, and where she would most likely come face-to-face with Conner again.
What would she do? What would she say to him?
But enough moping! She gave herself a mental slap. One thing wouldn’t wait, and that was the knee-deep snow blocking the driveway. Her father had already gone out to shovel, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He would wear himself out trying to do the job alone. Pulling on her coat, boots, and gloves, Megan went outside to help him.
*
By the time Rush arrived, Conner had cleared part of the driveway, including a path to the shed, where the Jeep was parked alongside Travis’s pickup. The lane from the highway was unplowed, but the Hummer’s powerful engine and oversized tires had no trouble pushing through the deep snow.
“Hell, let’s get you a snowplow blade on the front of that machine,” Conner joked as Rush climbed out of the big vehicle. “It can push more snow in five minutes than I can shovel in half an hour. We could even hire you out.”
“Did you hear about the church?” Rush grabbed a spare snow shovel out of the shed.