My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(15)

The number might not be good anymore. But it was worth a try.

Still standing in the yard, with Bucket at his feet, he took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled to the old number, and made the call.

Conner answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Travis!” He sounded happy. “What’s up? I heard you were out, but then I lost track of you. I was afraid it might be for good.”

“Sorry.” Just hearing his old friend’s voice raised Travis’s spirits. “I should’ve called. I’m back on the old family ranch in Branding Iron. The place is all mine now. I’m trying to make it work but, man, it’s a struggle. Nothing but beans and blisters. How about you? Still earning those fancy buckles and dazzling the women?”

There was a silent pause on the other end of the phone. “You haven’t heard?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It was in the papers, but it’s been a while.”

“I can’t remember the last time I read a newspaper. What are you talking about?”

“I’m finished, Travis. Got stomped by a bull in the Vegas finals. Bastard broke my hip and shattered my leg. Spent months in traction and rehab. I can walk okay, but it hurts like hell to sit a horse, and I’ll never compete again.”

A memory flashed through Travis’s mind—a young Conner on a bronc in the junior rodeo championships, a cocky grin on his face. Rodeo had been Conner’s whole life.

“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry,” Travis said. “What rotten luck. Are you doing all right?”

Conner’s chuckle was laced with irony. “I don’t mean to dump on you, old friend, but you might as well hear the rest of the story. No insurance for bull riding. So my medical bills cost me damn near everything I had. Lost my big house. Had to sell my horses, and cars, and even auction off my buckles and trophies. Hell, my girlfriend left me, too, and took the dog—just like in those good old country songs. I’m living in this cheap rental in Waco while I figure out the rest of my life.”

“Come live here, with me!” As soon as Travis spoke, he knew the words were right and true. “There’s plenty of room in this old house, and Lord knows I could use the help. I don’t know squat about running a ranch or taking care of these animals that got dumped on me. I couldn’t pay you. But you’d get a free roof over your head, and we could be partners in whatever we decide to do.”

“Partners? You’re kidding!”

“I’m absolutely serious. I called you because I need advice about the horses. But having you here to help out would be the best thing I could wish for. Will you at least think about it?”

Conner laughed. “I don’t have to. I’m in. I can be there in the next few days.”

“You’d better be sure. Before you make up your mind, let me send you a photo of the house.” Travis strode toward the front corner of the house, snapped a photo from the best angle, and sent it. The three-bedroom frame home might have been a nice place fifty years ago. But it had long since fallen into neglect. The structure was sound, the shingled roof still holding against the rain and snow. But the rest was about as homey as an old miner’s shack.

There was silence on the phone while Conner studied the photo.

“Well, what do you think?” Travis asked.

“One question. Has it got indoor plumbing?”

“If you don’t mind rusty pipes.”

“And cockroaches? I hate cockroaches.”

“Haven’t seen a one. If there ever were any, they must’ve all frozen to death.”

“Then I’m in. I’ll see you in about three days.”

“Need any help? Can you drive all right?”

“I can manage, thanks. Just tell me how to get there.”

*

Travis ended the call with a new lightness of spirit. He’d done his best to go it alone out here, but the past year had been hellishly lonesome and hard. Having a capable friend, who needed to be here for his own reasons, could make all the difference. Maybe together, they could find a way to make this broken-down ranch pay.

He found himself whistling as he set about getting a room ready for his friend, clearing out items that could be hauled away or stored elsewhere, scrubbing the floor and washing the single window. He was going to need a bed, a chair, and some kind of bureau with drawers, as well as curtains, bedding, and a rug. If he couldn’t find some furniture in the want ads, the thrift store in Cottonwood Springs should have most of what he needed. What he couldn’t find there, he would have to buy at Shop Mart, along with a fresh supply of groceries.

Luckily, he’d sold a truckload of hay last week, so he had some cash. He’d planned to make it last, but he wanted his friend to be comfortable. Conner had made good money as a rodeo star. He’d lived like a millionaire—a big house with stables out back, fancy cars and fancy women. Travis could only hope he wouldn’t mind the shabby room that was the best he had to offer.

By the time he’d cleaned the room and rearranged the house, the sun was low in the sky, and the air had taken on a biting chill. Patch and Chip were still in the field. It might be all right to leave them outside for the night—wild horses, after all, lived outdoors all the time. But what if something went wrong—a storm, an accident, or even some predator? He couldn’t take that chance. He needed to get the big Percherons back into the barn.