My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(37)

Travis held the business card up to the light and managed to read most of it.



DR. J. T. RUSHFORD, DVM

1642 PALO VERDE DRIVE, PHOENIX, AZ





“DVM? So you’re a veterinarian?” Travis asked.

“That’s right. Most folks just call me Rush.” He extended a hand.

“Travis Morgan.” Travis accepted the handshake. The stranger seemed like a decent sort, but all he really wanted was to have his truck back and drive home. Unfortunately, he knew that the old Ford was done for. He would never drive it again.

“So what’s a vet from Arizona doing clear out here in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“That’s a long story,” Rush said. “Let’s get your truck out of the road. Then, if you’ll allow me to drive you home, I’ll tell it to you.”

The truck was too badly damaged to drive, but with Travis steering and the Hummer pushing from behind, they managed to get it onto the shoulder of the highway. Travis blocked the wheels, scrawled a note, and tucked it under the windshield wiper. He could’ve called Conner to come and get him, but as long as Rush was willing to drive him home, it made sense to take him up on the offer. Besides, he was interested in hearing the man’s story.

The cab of the Hummer was a study in functional luxury, with leather seats and a dash that looked like the cockpit of an airplane. Some technical updates, like Bluetooth and a GPS, had likely been added after 2006, the last manufacturing date for this model. Travis buckled himself in and gave directions. “Five miles south down the highway and then you turn left. I’ll tell you where. But not too fast. That surface is still slick.”

“Got it,” Rush pulled back onto the road. “I still say you sound like a cop.”

“I used to be. Long story. But right now, I’m more interested in how an Arizona vet wound up in the Texas boondocks. Wasn’t your GPS working?”

“Damn thing hasn’t worked right in days. Whoever that woman’s voice belongs to, I think she’s mad at me. But then, I haven’t had great luck with women lately.”

“You promised me a story,” Travis said.

“So I did. And a sad tale it is. The moral is, never marry a girl with a rich daddy—especially a rich daddy who buys her whatever her greedy little heart desires, including a million-dollar house.”

“And that’s what got you lost in Texas?”

“I’m getting to that.” Rush switched the headlights on high beam. They lit up the road for half a mile. “I wanted to be the one to support her and our baby girl. But after four years, she decided that being married to a guy who was always working wasn’t much fun. She found some idiot with a trust fund, kicked me out, and moved him in. Since the house was in her name and we had a prenuptial, she was within her rights to do that. I’d have shrugged it off, except for our daughter and the fact that my veterinary practice was on the property, attached to the house. She put her daddy’s lawyers to work, and I was toast. I was lucky to keep my equipment. I’ve got it with me now, loaded in the back.”

Forty yards ahead, two deer bounded into the headlights. Rush’s foot jerked to the brake pedal. “Easy, now.” Travis cautioned him. “Just light taps, like I told you, or you’ll skid and spin off the road.”

Rush did as he was told. The lumbering vehicle slowed and shuddered to a stop, the engine dying, as two more deer came leaping out of the trees and crossed the road, one so close that its haunch brushed the grille. Rush sank back in the seat with a whoosh of breath. “Thanks. One accident’s enough for tonight.”

“You still haven’t told me how you ended up in Texas,” Travis said.

“Well, here goes.” Rush started the engine again and moved ahead at a crawl. “I didn’t have the money to buy or even lease property to set up a new practice in Phoenix. But I came across an ad in a professional journal. A clinic in Fort Worth had a vacancy and was looking for a third vet. I contacted them, and they offered me the job. By then, I was living in a motel with my equipment in storage. I was happy to take whatever I could get. I loaded up and headed out.

“I was less than a day away when I got a text from them. The clinic had been sold, and the new owners didn’t need me.”

“Rotten luck,” Travis said.

“My sentiments exactly,” said Rush. “I figured that since I’d come this far, I might as well go and meet the new owners. Maybe I could talk them into hiring me. By then, it was getting dark, and a storm was blowing in, but I figured I could drive all night and make Fort Worth by morning. You know the rest.”

“Sorry about that,” Travis said. “The road to my ranch is just ahead on your left. You’ll need to slow down to make the turn.”

Rush slowed the Hummer expertly and eased into the turn. At least the man was a fast learner. “You’ve got a ranch?” he asked. “What kind of stock do you run? Cattle? Angus, maybe?”

Travis had to laugh. “Right now, our stock consists of two old horses and a dog that still smells like the skunk he tried to catch. The King Ranch it isn’t. But if you need a place to sleep for the rest of the night, my friend, I have a beat-up couch that comes with pretty good coffee in the morning.” When Rush hesitated, Travis added, “You’d be crazy to keep going tonight. You’re lost and so tired that you’re liable to fall asleep at the wheel and run off the road.”