My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(59)

“Nonsense,” Maggie said.

“That’s what you think. One of them is an ex-convict. He did time for killing a man.”

“And the other two?”

“I’m still checking on them. But you know what they say. Birds of a feather flock together.”

“If this is a joke, Stanley, I’m not laughing. And since they live outside the city limits, checking on them is the sheriff’s job, and he already knows about them. So you can stop wasting my time.”

She looked down at the papers on her desk, hoping Stanley would leave, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ve been seen going out to their place. The one man, the convicted killer, has even been reported coming out of your house at night.”

“Reported by whom?” Maggie kept her tone casual and friendly. Inside she was seething.

“By, uh . . . a concerned citizen.”

“Concerned? About what?”

“About your safety—and your reputation.”

“I see.” Maggie knew who the “concerned citizen” was, and this time it wasn’t Hank. Stanley Featherstone had been getting on her nerves for as long as she’d known him, but this time he’d crossed the line.

Good heavens, had the little creep been spying on her? The thought made her skin crawl.

With teeth-grinding effort, she kept her self-control. “Thank you for letting me know, Stanley,” she said. “I’ll consider myself warned, but I don’t want to hear another word about this. And if it gets back to me that your ‘concerned citizen’ is spreading tales, the consequences won’t be pretty. Do I make myself clear?”

He hesitated; then his mouth spread in a slow grin. “Clear enough,” he said. “I just wanted to warn you, that’s all. Didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“That’s fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

“I was hoping we could get some coffee in the break room.”

“I’ve had my coffee, and I’ve got work to do. So have you. Can you show yourself out, or should I call the receptionist?”

“I’ll be going.” He moseyed out the door while Maggie took deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Maybe she should let Travis know about this encounter. She was reaching for the phone when she changed her mind. Travis would only worry, and he already had enough on his mind. If Stanley Featherstone made any more trouble, she could deal with him herself. After all, even though she couldn’t fire an elected official, she was technically his boss.

Shuffling the papers on her desk, she went back to wrestling with the Santa problem.

*

Travis stood on the front porch, shading his eyes against the glare of sunlight on snow. Ten days had passed since Stanley Featherstone had ticketed him for the flyers and signs. Today was the scheduled court date. Since the tickets had been written to Christmas Tree Ranch and not to Travis personally, Rush had volunteered to go to town and appear before the judge.

Travis had argued against it at first, but Conner had taken Rush’s side. “You’re on edge, Travis,” he’d said. “Featherstone will be expecting that, and he’ll try to get to you. Rush will throw him off his game.”

Travis had finally agreed. Rush tended to play his cards close to his vest. Cool and soft-spoken, he would be their safest bet in court.

Travis glanced at his watch. It was almost noon, past time for Rush to return from town. Had something gone wrong?

They could pay the fine if they had to, he told himself. Business had been good. On weekdays when kids were in school, the flow of customers slowed to a trickle. But in the evenings and on Saturdays, they had plenty of activity. They were selling as many trees as they could cut and haul. And the sleigh rides—which could continue for as long as the snow lasted—were catching on as well. Still, an eleven-hundred-dollar fine was a lot of money when the ranch had so many needs.

Relief washed over him as he spotted the Hummer coming up the road. For better or worse, he would soon know what the judge had ruled.

The Hummer pulled through the gate and into its usual parking spot. Travis came down off the porch, and Conner came around from the back of the house as the door opened. Rush climbed out carrying a pizza box and a six pack of beer. His face wore a broad grin.

Travis took the pizza box out of his hand. “I hope this means good news,” he said.

“Good enough,” Rush said. “The judge dropped the charges for the flyers and fined me twenty-five dollars for the illegal signs. I think she liked me.”

“She?” Conner whooped with laughter. “So what did she look like?”

“About thirty-five, I’d say. Long, blond hair, up in some kind of twist. All business, mind you, but a real looker. No wedding ring. I’m hoping Maggie can get me her phone number.”

“You dirty dog, you!” Conner teased.

“Hey, the pizza’s getting cold,” Travis said. “Come on, let’s go inside and eat.”

With Bucket at their heels, they trooped into the kitchen, opened the pizza, and tore into it with the appetites of hungry men. As they sat around the table laughing, talking, and eating, Travis couldn’t help thinking what a difference these friends had made in his life. Weeks ago, he’d been here alone, lonesome and bitter, living from day to day. Now his life was richer by two horses, two partners, a beautiful woman, and a goofy dog. He felt blessed, or maybe just damned lucky.