My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(5)

“Why take time for that? I can bring ’em over to your place this afternoon and stick around to help get ’em settled in. It’ll be no trouble at all.”

Something told Travis the old man was afraid he’d change his mind once he saw the animals. But what the hell—even after three years in prison, where he’d seen the worst of humanity, he was still a sucker for a hard luck story.

“All right,” he said. “Will you need any help getting them to my place?”

Abner shook his head. “It’s only a couple of miles by the road. I can walk the horses over behind the truck, and Bucket can ride with me.”

“Fine. I’ll be waiting for you. Watch out for the ice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. And thanks. There’s bound to be a heavenly reward for folks like you.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Travis put cash on the table for the coffee and pie and left Abner to finish eating. Only as he walked outside, to a clearing sky, did it hit him what he’d just committed to. He swore under his breath as he walked to his truck.

Why hadn’t he just said no ? He ought to have his fool head examined!

The sun was already warming the day, melting the ice on roads and sidewalks to slush. At the far end of Main Street, he passed the complex of wings that housed the city and county offices, the library, the sheriff’s department, and the jail. There in the parking lot, in the space clearly marked for the mayor, was the big, black Lincoln Town Car that had crashed into his gatepost that morning. At least the uppity redhead had made it safely back to town. But she didn’t appear fussy about whose parking place she took. She couldn’t be the mayor. Maybe she was the mayor’s wife.

Not that he gave a damn either way. She was just one more annoyance in a day that had taken on more trouble than he wanted. There was nothing to do but forget her, go home, try to fix the gate, and get the barn ready for Abner’s animals.

*

Maggie left her desk and, after a word to the receptionist, walked down the hallway to the wing that housed the sheriff’s office. The morning had kept her busy, but she still had questions about the gruff stranger at the old abandoned ranch. Maybe the sheriff would have some answers. If not, she would need to make him aware of the situation.

Sheriff Ben Marsden rose to greet her. Superman handsome, he kept a framed photo of his wife, son, and baby daughter on proud display. He and Maggie had gone through school together and were old friends.

“Have a chair, Maggie. What’s up?” he asked.

“Maybe you can tell me.” She took the chair opposite the desk and related the morning’s misadventure.

Ben listened, leaning back in his chair. “You say the man was angry. Did he threaten you in any way?”

“No . . . but he definitely made me nervous. When I offered him money for the gate, he wouldn’t take it. And he chewed me out for driving too fast on the icy road.”

A smile tugged at Ben’s mouth. “That sounds about right,” he said.

“You know him?” Maggie asked.

“Not well. But well enough to tell you he’s no danger. His name’s Travis Morgan. He inherited that old place from his mother’s family. He’s been living there about a year.”

“A year? But I’ve never seen him before—and I make it my business to know people in town.”

“He keeps to himself. I met him last winter when I drove by the place and noticed somebody was there. We talked for a few minutes. All he really wants is to be left in peace.”

“After meeting him, I’d certainly go along with that,” Maggie said. “The man’s about as friendly as a rattlesnake.”

“There might be a reason for that,” Ben said, “although I hope you’ll keep this to yourself. After I met him, I did some routine checking, to make sure he was who he said he was. He’s an ex-convict—did three years in Oklahoma for manslaughter.”

“Oh.” Maggie’s skin prickled. She waited, hoping to learn more.

“It’s an interesting story, what I know of it,” Ben said. “He was a highway patrolman, pulled over a driver on suspicion of kidnapping. I don’t know the details, but things got out of hand, and he ended up shooting an innocent, unarmed man. It was a case of mistaken identity, but he lost his career and did time for it.”

“I take it he’s still bitter.”

“Most people would be. But there’s more. It seems he’s Hank Miller’s son.”

“I’d forgotten Hank had a son,” Maggie said. “You and I were barely out of diapers when Hank lost his leg in that awful farm accident. I only remember because my parents talked about it later. Didn’t Hank’s wife leave him after that?”

“Right. And she took their little boy with her. When she remarried, Travis took his stepfather’s name. Evidently, he doesn’t think much of Hank. As far as I know, they haven’t spoken in decades.”

“That’s a shame. Hank’s a good man.” Maggie rose, glancing at her watch. “I won’t keep you. But thanks for filling me in. Believe me, if Travis Morgan wants to be left alone, I won’t have a problem with that.”

“You have a good day, Maggie.”

“You too. Say hello to Jess and the kids for me.”