My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(32)
They’d also spent a grueling day clearing the old road that led from the ranch to the tree site, filling in potholes, digging out clumps of sage and prickly pear, and rolling away rocks. By the time it was done, they were sore, blistered, and filthy, but the rough road was now wide and solid enough to support the pickup.
In Cottonwood Springs, they’d found a shop that sold secondhand tools and bought a heavy-duty, gasoline-powered chain saw, as well as two smaller power saws, and some hand-pruning tools for trimming the trees. Another shop had a good deal on a two-wheeled cart that was light enough to be towed behind the ATV. Conner had splurged, paying five dollars for an old-style TV that worked in the shop, even though Travis had told him there was no cable service at the ranch. Never mind, Travis had told himself. If fiddling with the TV would keep Conner amused at night, what was the harm?
At Travis’s suggestion, they’d stopped by a Christmas tree lot in Cottonwood Springs to check prices. Even trucked-in trees were expensive. For fresh-cut trees, they could charge even more. But how much would people be willing to pay, especially in Branding Iron? One more decision to make.
They loaded up and headed for home with their purchases in the back of Travis’s pickup. The afternoon was gray and cold. Wind battered the side of the truck as they drove south, down the highway to Branding Iron.
“Let’s pray for blue skies and sunshine tomorrow,” Conner said. “Trimming trees in this weather will be a bitch.”
“We’ll do what we have to,” Travis said. “The other night I did some research on your laptop. Tree trimming is usually done a lot earlier, while the young trees are still growing, not when they’re big enough to sell. We’ll have to keep the trimming to a minimum—just lop off the limbs that spoil the natural shape. If we trim too much, our trees will look butchered—like a bad haircut.”
Conner rested the boot of his good right leg on the dash. “This is getting damned scary,” he said. “We’ve got to open for business by next weekend, or by December first at the latest. And there’s so much yet to do—have you thought about it?”
“I haven’t thought of much else,” Travis said. “We’ll need to buy lights for the house and yard and put them up. We’ll need stands for the trees, or at least some kind of rack to lean them against. We’ll need twine so folks can tie the trees to their cars. And most people will want to pay with credit cards. We’ll need a way to run them. I don’t know the first thing about that, do you?”
Conner shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, or find somebody to ask. We’ll need Christmas music, too, and some kind of speaker to play it on, even if it’s just an old boom box.” He exhaled. “Lordy, what if we’ve bitten off more than we can chew? What if we do all this work and spend all this money, and all we end up with is a yard full of dead Christmas trees? What if everybody just goes to Hank’s because that’s what they’re used to?”
“That’s not a question I wanted to hear,” Travis said. “But it’s worth asking. We need to offer them something they can’t get at Hank’s—or anywhere else. We need a reason for them to come to us.”
Conner stared out the window for a few minutes. Then he lowered his boot from the dash. “This might be a crazy idea, but I’ll run it by you. I was thinking about those hayrides my grandpa used to give, singing songs and having cocoa after. What if we had a nice little campfire in the front yard, with hot chocolate and roasted marshmallows for people who come?”
“I like that,” Travis said. “And I just thought of something else. We could have some cut trees in the yard, but if folks wanted the full experience, we could take them on the road to where the trees are. They could choose their own tree, and we could cut it down and haul it back with them on the trailer.”
“Yeah!” Conner’s voice was charged with excitement. “We could use the ATV as a backup. But if it snows—really snows—we could use the sleigh. Imagine that! Horses, sleigh bells, snow, and Christmas trees! Too bad we let Maggie take that Santa suit.”
Travis still felt a twinge at the mention of Maggie’s name. “It sounds like a grand idea,” he said. “But we’d have to charge extra to make it worth our time. And Branding Iron isn’t a wealthy town. I don’t know how many families would spend the money, especially if they’re already cash-strapped from buying presents.”
“So we advertise in Cottonwood Springs,” Conner said. “There are plenty of folks there who could afford it and would drive half an hour to give their kids the experience. And we could hold a drawing in Branding Iron, with free rides as prizes. Another thing—once we get busy, we won’t be able to handle the operation by ourselves. If we hire a few high school kids to help out, we’ll get their families coming, and the word will spread. This is going to come together and work! It’s got to.”
Travis nodded his agreement as they came into Branding Iron. He envied Conner’s enthusiasm—but then, Conner was a man whose idea of making a living was climbing onto a murderous, half-ton animal and trusting that it wouldn’t kill him. Even the fact that his last ride had crushed his body and ended his career had done little to dampen Conner’s sunny spirit.
Comparing Conner’s background with his own was like comparing day and night. In his work as a patrolman, things were expected to go wrong. It had been his job to keep them from happening if he could, and to deal with them if he couldn’t. And in prison . . .