It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(38)

“I’ll bet you don’t have trees like this in Phoenix, do you, Miss Clara?” Conner teased.

“Last Christmas, Annie and Cecil put up a fake tree,” she said. “I like real trees better. They smell nice.” She took deep breaths, inhaling the fragrance of pine. Rush hadn’t told her about losing Cecil and Annie, who’d been there for her since she was a baby. She was bound to be upset. He would need to find a time to break the news.

“Can we get a tree for the house?” Clara asked.

Conner answered before Rush could respond. “Maybe, but only if we have leftover trees that don’t sell. That means we’ll have to wait. Last year we sold them all.”

Clara frowned. “How long will we have to wait?”

“Maybe till Christmas Eve. We sell a lot of trees. People come from all over the county to buy them here and in Hank’s lot.”

“Who’s Hank?”

“He’s the man who—”

“He’s the man who sells our trees at his store.” Rush shot Conner a warning glance. To reveal that Hank was the parade Santa would devastate this child who still believed.

“But look at all these trees!” Clara gestured toward the lush green forest. “Can’t you just cut one down for the house?”

“It’s not that simple,” Conner said. “There are a lot of trees, and we’ve planted more. But it takes at least eight years to grow a nice Christmas tree. These trees need to last until the new ones are big. If we cut too many too soon, we’ll run out.”

“Oh.” Clara nodded, although Rush suspected that Conner’s explanation had been too much to grasp.

“But can’t we just have a little tree—like this one?” She ran to a tree about her own height, a healthy-looking volunteer that had likely sprung from seed. Wrapping her coat-clad arms around it, she gave Conner a sad-puppy look that would have softened a cast-iron girder. “Poor little tree. It isn’t very big or really pretty. Nobody will want it for a Christmas tree. Think how sad it must feel. Please . . .”

Rush had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing. Poor Conner. He didn’t stand a chance.

Conner sighed. “Well, all right, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to cut it for a Christmas tree. But I don’t know what you’ll do for decorations. We’ve got lights, but we’re using those outside. There’s nothing else.”

She turned her soulful, brown eyes on Rush. “We can buy some, can’t we, Daddy? It’s just a little tree. It won’t need a lot of decorations.”

“Sure. A string of lights and some tinsel shouldn’t cost much. We’ll go shopping tomorrow. Then we can decorate the tree.”

Conner caught Rush’s eye, grinned, and shook his head. Two strong men had met their match.

“Conner, I’ve got a question,” Clara said as Conner readied his power saw to cut down her tree.

“Anything for you, princess,” Conner said. “Ask away.”

“Is Bucket friends with cats? Do you know?”

“Hmm,” Conner said, thinking. “I don’t know that he has any cat friends, if that’s what you mean. I’ve never seen him hanging out with a cat.”

“No, I mean, if he saw a cat, what would he do?”

“Probably chase it. That’s what he does with most things.”

“But would he hurt it?”

“He’d have to catch it first. But Bucket isn’t mean. I don’t think he’d know what to do with a cat if he caught it.”

“So you don’t know for sure, do you?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Conner revved the motor on the chain saw to test it. “Travis might know. He got Bucket from the old man who had him first. You’re sure you want this tree?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, yes. Thank you, Conner.”

Conner felled the small tree with a single stroke and set it aside. While he was cutting more trees to load onto the trailer, Rush took Clara for a walk, down along the rows of trees. The afternoon sun had melted the snow. Crows, jays, and small brown sparrows flitted among the pine trees, filling the air with their calls. A squirrel, probably flushed and treed by Bucket, scolded in the distance.

“Daddy, do you like Tracy?” Clara asked.

“Sure, I do. She’s nice. Do you like her?”

“Uh-huh. I like her a lot. But she seems so sad. She told me her husband died.”

“I know that,” Rush said. “It can take a long time to get over losing someone you love.” I know. I lost you.

“Do you think she’ll get married again?”

“Maybe. But not till she’s through being sad.”

“You’re sad, too, Daddy. I can tell. But I’ve got it all figured out. You and Tracy could get married.”

Rush stifled a groan. He should have seen that coming. “I don’t think Tracy’s ready to get married,” he said. “Neither am I.”

“But think how nice it would be. We could live in her house, and I could have Snowflake, and nobody would be sad.”

“So you’ve got it all figured out, have you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Listen, honey.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. This wasn’t going to be easy. “By the time you’re older, you’ll learn that you can’t just make people do what you want. I would love to keep you with me forever. But I have to follow the rules. And the rules say that when your mom comes back from her cruise, I have to send you back to Phoenix. And you can’t take Snowflake with you. You already know why.”