My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(51)

“Nope. He said it would only waste time and poison the well. That surprised me, seeing how things stand between him and his old man.”

“It surprises me, too,” Maggie said, “especially after that big scene on Thanksgiving Day. But I guess we should give Travis credit for taking the high road.”

Conner nodded. “I’ve known Travis since we were kids. He’s always had this idealistic streak. I think that’s maybe why he became a cop. I thought sure prison would change him. But it appears I was wrong. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car before I go back and load up on chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.”

He took her cart and wheeled it toward the far side of the lot. “Any luck finding your Santa?” he asked.

“Are you volunteering? I’ve got plenty of pillows to fatten you up.”

He laughed. “Not me. I said I’d handle the sleigh, but that’s the limit. I take it Hank’s out of the running.”

Maggie sighed. “I’m afraid so. I thought we were friends, but the last time we spoke, he called me a traitor.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Would I kid about that?”

They’d reached Maggie’s car. She opened the trunk, and Conner began unloading her groceries from the cart. He’d nearly finished when a man on a three-wheeled motorbike drove into the lot and made a turn down the row where Maggie was parked. Slight of build, with a sharp, narrow face, he was wearing a helmet and a brown leather coat with an official-looking badge on it. A light-duty pistol was strapped to his hip. Reaching Maggie’s car, he slowed down and pulled to a stop. She stifled a groan as she recognized Stanley Featherstone.

“Are you all right, Mayor? Is this man giving you any trouble?” he demanded.

Maggie forced a smile. “Everything’s fine, Stanley. This is Conner Branch. He’s helping me with my groceries. You have a nice day, hear?”

Stanley touched his helmet in what might pass for a military salute. The motorbike roared as he drove off.

Conner shook his head. “Who the hell is that little weasel?”

“He’s the town constable,” Maggie said. “He writes parking tickets, rounds up stray animals, serves papers for the court, catches truants—that sort of thing. I can’t say he’s well-liked. But he’s conscientious, and he keeps getting reelected because nobody else wants his job.”

Conner grinned. “Well, he seemed mighty protective of you, Mayor Maggie.”

“Don’t even go there. I only put up with him because we work together.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Conner teased. “Guess I’d better let Travis know he’s got a rival for your heart.”

“Don’t, Conner. It isn’t funny,” Maggie said. “Believe me, I have no interest in that annoying little man. And right now, things aren’t so great with Travis.”

“What? I thought you two had something solid going.”

Maggie hadn’t meant to unload on Conner, but it felt good to talk. “Travis and I have agreed to back off until Christmas. Frankly, if he can’t settle this thing with his father, it might be longer than that. I was pretty upset with the way he talked to Hank on Thanksgiving.”

Conner shook his head. “Damn, this is enough to crush my faith in true love. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m afraid not. But thanks for your help. It’s always good to see you. Give my best to your partners.”

“Will do. Come visit us again.”

“Thanks, but that might not be anytime soon.” Maggie said.

“You never know. See you around.” Ever cheerful, Conner wheeled Maggie’s empty cart back toward the store and vanished inside.

Maggie closed the trunk. For a moment, her gaze followed the motorbike as it cruised down the row of cars and suddenly halted. Featherstone bent down from the seat and peeled a green paper off the snow-slicked asphalt. He wiped it dry on his pants leg and tucked it in his pocket. As she realized what it was, Maggie felt an unexpected chill.

It was one of the flyers from the Christmas Tree Ranch.

*

By early afternoon, business was picking up, and most of the customers were local. The pre-cut trees were going so fast that Conner and Rush had needed to make a run before dark to cut and haul back a fresh supply. The flyers appeared to have made a difference.

Now that it was evening, more people were coming in the gate, choosing trees, making s’mores at the fire pit, drinking chocolate, and asking about sleigh rides. Rush had surprised him by bringing a guitar out of the Hummer and serenading the customers with Christmas songs in an untrained but mellow voice.

A gaggle of high school girls had discovered Conner. After one of them recognized him, they tagged after him like rock star groupies. “Not to worry, I’m not into babysitting—or jail time,” he muttered to Travis as they passed him in the yard. Still, Travis could tell his friend was enjoying himself. Everyone here seemed to be. Looking around the yard, he found himself thinking that this was what he’d imagined when he and his partners had started this project. The only thing missing was having Maggie here to share it with him.

Yesterday the check from Rush’s insurance company had come in the mail. The payment had been just five thousand dollars for the loss of Travis’s old truck. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to buy another beater truck like it. Travis had resisted the urge to go shopping. For now, he was managing all right without the truck. And the money would be better put aside in case the tree venture failed and the ranch needed help. On a more cheerful note, if they made good money on the trees, he’d be able to buy an even better truck at the end of the season.