My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(17)

“Let’s go.” She offered him the keys. “Want to drive?”

“Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve driven one of these babies.” He walked around the car to let her in the passenger side, then returned to slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition. The powerful engine purred to life.

“Runs smooth for an older car,” he commented as they headed out of the parking lot. “I can tell it’s had good care.”

“This was my father’s car,” Maggie said. “It was his baby. I try to keep it up the way he’d have wanted me to.”

“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind me driving it?”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure a man with your experience can drive anything on the road.”

“My experience?” He glanced at her, his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Maggie could have bitten her tongue, but it was too late to take back what she’d just said. Now her only recourse was honesty. “I know about your having been a patrolman,” she said. “And I know you went to prison.”

His jaw tightened, but he kept driving toward Main Street. “How did you find out?”

“I asked the sheriff. He told me. As mayor, it’s my business to know about the people in this town.”

“Is it, Mayor Maggie?” The question was laced with irony.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told anybody, and I don’t intend to.” Maggie’s voice betrayed her unease. This was not going the way she’d hoped.

“Did the sheriff tell you what happened?”

“A little, but I had the impression he didn’t know the whole story.”

“He knows.”

Maggie didn’t answer. There was nothing she could say that would ease the situation.

Travis stopped outside the restaurant but made no move to get out of the car. “Well, are you waiting for me to tell you?” he asked.

“Only if you want to.”

He exhaled, gazing through the windshield at the faded leaves that blew along the sidewalk. The wind had picked up, blowing a bank of heavy clouds across the sun.

“It was after midnight, and I was working,” he said. “We’d gotten an alert earlier about a kidnapping—a twelve-year-old girl. Her friend said she’d been grabbed by a stranger in the mall parking lot and thrown into the trunk of a dark blue Toyota Camry. We had a partial on the plate—the first three digits. The friend hadn’t been sure about the rest.

“I was wrapping up a long shift, headed home on the freeway, dog tired, when a car passed me going twenty miles over the speed limit. Blue Camry, the plate matched what we’d been told. I turned on my lights and siren and pulled it over. The driver looked about twenty, like maybe a college kid. He seemed nervous. I took his license and registration, and then I asked him to open the trunk latch. He started the car and took off.

“All I could think of was that little girl, locked in the trunk and headed for God knows what kind of hell. I drew my pistol and fired through the back window. The car skidded off the road, into a ditch. He was dead by the time I got to him, shot through the head. When I opened the trunk, there was nothing in it but some OxyContin and a couple bags of weed.”

“And the little girl?” Maggie asked.

“She showed up safe. It turned out she and her friend had made up the whole kidnapping thing.” Travis shook his head. “The boy’s family had money and influence. They made sure I paid for my mistake. Three years for manslaughter, and I’ll never work in law enforcement again.”

“That’s awful,” Maggie said. “So unfair. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I ended an innocent life, and I’ll always wonder what I could have done differently. But it’s in the past and can’t be changed. So what do you say we put it aside and go have that coffee and pie?”

“Sure.” Maggie waited while he came around to help her out of the car. Life wasn’t fair, she thought. All Travis had meant to do was save a child. Instead, his action had ended in tragedy—and a burden of guilt he would carry for the rest of his life. She was just beginning to discover the kind of man he was.

*

By now it was mid-afternoon. The Saturday lunch crowd had gone, leaving Buckaroo’s more or less quiet. They took a booth, and Travis gave the waitress their order. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken a beautiful woman out to eat—not that this was any kind of date. But it wouldn’t hurt to pretend a little.

Telling Maggie about his past hadn’t been easy. But he was glad she knew and seemed to understand what had happened. At least she’d know he wasn’t holding back. And she wouldn’t have to get the story from someone else.

But why should it matter? he reminded himself. He knew why she was spending time with him. She wanted his help with the Christmas parade. But that was her problem, not his. Apart from a case of giant economy-sized tomato juice, he didn’t owe Mayor Maggie a blasted thing.

“You said your friend was coming.” She sipped the coffee the waitress had brought her. “I don’t suppose he has a round belly and a white beard?”

Travis had to smile. “If I remember right, Conner’s even skinnier than I am. He’s been a champion bronc and bull rider—made the national finals five times and won twice. Took second in the all-around competition a few years ago. But I just found out he’s been injured and needs a place to go, so I invited him here. Figured I could use his help, especially with the horses. He’s driving in from Waco, could be here as soon as tomorrow. And he’ll be tired. That’s why I’m trying to get his room ready.”