My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(4)

Travis climbed into the truck and headed downtown. He was hungry, discouraged, and felt like three-day-old roadkill.

So why did he have this strange sense that something was about to happen—something he would never have expected?





Chapter 2


Buckaroo’s, on Main Street, was the only restaurant in Branding Iron, except for the B and B, which just served breakfast. Tucked away between a barber shop and a small parking lot, it was mostly a burger and pizza place, but they served good coffee, and the pie, made and delivered by a woman in town, was first-rate.

The place had just opened when Travis walked in, but it was already filling up. The stools at the counter were occupied, as were the three booths. The only empty seat was in the corner, opposite an old man who lived at the far end of Travis’s road. The two had met and talked a few times. Abner—that was the old duffer’s name. Abner Jenkins.

“ ’Morning, Abner,” Travis greeted him. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Suit yourself.” The old man, usually amiable, didn’t even look up as Travis slid into the booth. He was gazing down at his fresh coffee like a death row inmate contemplating his last meal.

Travis had always believed in minding his own business. But something about the old fellow’s downcast expression roused his concern. “You don’t look so good, Abner,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Abner glanced up, as if noticing him for the first time. “Not unless you can take ten years off this old body. The doc’s convinced my kids that I mustn’t live alone on my farm. They’ve sold the place right out from under me. This week the new owners are movin’ in, and I’m goin’ to Denver to live with my daughter’s family.” A tear rolled down his plump, bewhiskered cheek.

“I’m sorry, Abner,” Travis said. “But you never know. It might be nice having family around you.” Travis paused to give his order for coffee and pie to the waitress. On second thought, he ordered a slice for Abner, too. The old fellow looked as if he could use it.

“Oh, it’s not me I’m worried about,” Abner said. “It’s my two old horses and my dog, Bucket. I can’t take ’em to the city with me, and the fancy new owners don’t want ’em.” Another tear plopped into his coffee. “The horses are old, and Bucket is goin’ on eight years. I know what happens to animals nobody wants. Bucket will get put to sleep. Patch and Chip will get sold for dog food, or glue, or whatever the hell they do with horses these days. Those critters are like family to me. Just thinkin’ about ’em makes me want to bawl like a baby.”

The waitress brought Travis’s coffee and two servings of pie. Travis slid one toward Abner. “This one’s for you,” he said.

“Thanks, that’s right neighborly of you.” Abner picked at the pie with his fork but didn’t seem to have much appetite.

“Can’t you find somebody to take your animals?” Travis asked. “Surely with all the farms and ranches around here, somebody would want them.”

“I put notices up in the post office and the library, but nobody’s called me. The trouble with Patch and Chip is that they’re draft horses. They’re gentle, and I’ve trained ’em good, but folks don’t want ’em for riding because they’re so big. And everybody’s got tractors these days. Folks don’t need horses for work anymore.

“Bucket, now, he’s a great dog, half border collie and smart as a whip. But people who’ve got dogs don’t want another one. Or if they do, they want a puppy.” Abner’s sad eyes brightened as he looked at Travis. “Say, what about you?”

Travis choked on his coffee. He took a sip of water to cool his throat. He should’ve seen this coming before he walked right into it.

“I’ve been by your place,” Abner said. “You’ve got a barn that’s empty, except for the hay you’re sellin’. It’s even got a few stalls for horses. Patch and Chip would do fine there. And Bucket’s a great watchdog.”

“But I don’t know anything about horses!” Travis protested.

“What’s to know? You give ’em hay and water and muck out their stalls every few days. In good weather, you can turn ’em out to pasture. If it’s money you’re worried about, I’ll have a little left over from sellin’ my farm. I can give you a few hundred for their feed.”

Travis felt as if he’d stepped into quicksand and was sinking deeper by the minute. “I just don’t know . . . ,” he muttered.

“Hey, what’s a ranch with no animals on it?” Animated now, Abner shoveled in a bite of pie. “Tell you what. If you don’t want to keep ’em, can I at least leave ’em with you for now? They’ll have to be put down if I don’t find a place before I leave tomorrow.”

Travis sighed. “For now? How long is that?”

“Just long enough for you to find ’em another home. Somebody’s bound to want ’em.” Tears welled in the old man’s eyes. “Please, you’re my last hope. Those critters are like my kids. I can’t just go off and leave ’em to die.”

Travis emptied his coffee mug. “Well, I guess I could at least stop by your place and have a look at them.”