My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(55)

“I haven’t talked to Travis since Saturday morning. Is there something I don’t know?”

“If you don’t, you’ll find out soon enough. Saturday, when I saw those flyers on the doors, I went to Featherstone and complained about the littering and about the signs Travis had put up.”

Maggie remembered the constable in the Shop Mart parking lot, stopping to collect a flyer off the pavement. She’d assumed he was just picking up trash. Now his action held a different meaning.

“I did something even worse, Maggie,” Hank said. “I know for a fact that little rat, Featherstone, is sweet on you. I wanted to make sure he did his job. So I told him that you and Travis were seeing each other. That set him off just the way I wanted. Last night, he called and told me he’d ticketed Travis for more than eleven hundred dollars in fines—and that he’d handed out the tickets right in front of his customers.”

“Oh, Hank.” Sick with dismay, Maggie shook her head. “You’re a good man. What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I lay awake all night asking myself the same question. I guess I figured that since Travis had hurt me, I had the right to hurt him back. It was a dirty trick, and I’m sorry now. But it’s too late to mend fences. Travis will know it was me, and he won’t be in a mood to forgive. I’m afraid I’ve made an enemy for life.”

The glimmer of unshed tears in Hank’s eyes told Maggie he was genuinely sorry. But why should Travis believe that?

Hank slid the box of cookies across the coffee table toward Maggie. “These cookies smell mighty good,” he said. “I know you brought them in the spirit of making peace. But after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve them. Maybe you’d better give them to somebody else.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Maggie shoved the box back toward him. “I’m not giving up on you, Hank Miller. And I’m not giving up on Travis, either. I won’t rest until the two of you can shake hands and talk like friends, at least, if not father and son.”

Hank leaned back into the couch, his expression sad and knowing. “Do you love my boy, Maggie?”

The question hit Maggie hard. It was the question she’d asked herself again and again—the question she had yet to answer. But she couldn’t refuse to answer Hank. And she knew better than to lie.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, I guess I do. And something tells me you love him, too. So what are we going to do about it?”

“I can’t answer that question for myself,” Hank said. “Travis is a proud man, and he’s nursing a lot of hurt. After what I’ve done to him, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reach him. But maybe you can.”

“I can try.” Maggie rose. “Are we good?”

“We’re good, and I’ll keep the cookies. Thanks.” Hank stood with her. “Is it okay if I talk to Francine about this?”

“Of course. We’re good friends. Tell her as much as you want to.”

“If there’s anything you can do . . .” Hank’s words trailed off, but Maggie knew what he meant. He was hoping she could work a miracle with Travis.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And I’ll be in touch.”

Torn by a storm of emotions, Maggie drove home. She’d made peace with Hank, but at what cost? If she truly loved Travis, shouldn’t she side with him, and not with his father?

After what Hank had done with the signs and flyers, Travis was bound to be furious. And she would be caught right between them.

At home, Maggie busied herself cleaning the messy kitchen, doing laundry, and organizing the papers that had piled up on her desk. She tried to focus on each task, but her thoughts were ricocheting from Travis to Hank to the Branding Iron Christmas celebration and the Santa Claus she had yet to find.

With the parade just short weeks away, it was time she gave up on Hank and found somebody else. Stanley Featherstone would probably do the job if she sweet-talked him into it. But the constable, who scared some children, would make a lousy Santa, and she didn’t want to owe the little weasel any favors. There was nothing left to do except milk the city budget for a professional. But she would think about that tomorrow at work.

She was at her desk, paying bills, when her phone rang. The name on the caller ID was Conner Branch.

She pressed the answer button, worry chewing at her. What if something had happened to Travis?

“Conner, is everything all right?” she asked.

He laughed. “Everything’s fine, Maggie. Why? Were you worried about something?”

“No, just being me,” she fibbed. “What’s going on?”

“Well . . .”

She could picture him grinning.

“How would you like the honor of taking our very first sleigh ride?”

“You’re kidding!” Her dark mood was instantly gone. “You’ve got the sleigh out?”

“Yup. And I’ve been giving lessons to these two city slickers. Now they can hitch and drive that team like old Santa himself. All we need now is somebody to take for a ride—like our favorite lady mayor.”

“Can I get there? I know your road won’t be plowed.”

“Rush has been running the Hummer up and down the road to flatten the snow. You should be fine. If you get stuck, call, and we’ll come to your rescue.”