My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(7)

“Listen up, Bucket.” Travis scowled down at the dog. The dog looked up, tail wagging expectantly. “If we’re going to get along, you’ll need to know whose place this is and who’s in charge here. Understand?”

Bucket gave a sharp little woof!

“Go on, now. Go chase a rabbit or something,” Travis said.

The dog’s tail went down. He trotted over to the newly straightened gatepost, sniffed at its base, and lifted his leg.

“See, he’s markin’ his territory,” Abner said. “I told you he was smart. I brought along a bag of food for him. I’ll leave it on the porch.”

“Fine,” Travis said. “Now let’s get those horses into the barn.”

Abner had mentioned that the gray Percheron geldings were big. “Big” was a gross understatement. They were gargantuan—almost six feet at their massive shoulders, each one appearing to weigh in at nearly a ton. Their shod hooves were the size of small dinner plates.

They would probably eat him out of house and home, Travis reflected as he took one of the lead ropes and followed Abner cautiously toward the barn. For all their massive size, the huge horses were calm and easy to handle.

They were a splendid pair, with their dappled coats and stately bearing. A white patch on the face of one horse made it easy to tell them apart. That one would be Patch. The other was Chip.

“Where did you get these horses?” Travis asked the old man.

“Raised ’em myself from babies,” Abner said. “That’s why I couldn’t stand the thought of leavin’ ’em for the slaughterhouse. Now you see why.”

“They’re amazing,” Travis said. “But I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do with them.”

“You’ll figure somethin’ out.” They led the horses into the stalls with hay and water. Travis turned away while the old man said a tearful goodbye to his pets. Then they walked out of the shadowy barn, into the sunshine. Bucket was nowhere in sight.

“I’ve got a box in the truck with their grooming tools and some tack,” Abner said. “I’ll leave it here, along with some money for extra feed—I want you to take it. I know those horses eat a lot.”

“All right, thanks.” Travis swallowed his pride. After all, he was doing the old man a big favor.

“There’s one more thing I need to leave,” Abner said. “I guess I should’ve asked you first. But I know you’ve got some empty sheds out back, and I can’t leave this to be hauled off for junk.”

Travis followed the line of the old man’s gaze to the canvas-covered object on the flatbed he’d towed behind the truck. It looked about the length of a compact car, only higher at one end. Maybe it was an antique. Travis might not know much about animals, but he did know cars. This one could be valuable.

“Let’s have a look,” he said.

Abner glanced at the sky, as if worried about the clouds drifting in from the west. “What do you say we haul it under shelter first? The flatbed goes with it. If you’ll point me to an open shed and guide me, I can back it in with the truck.”

“Wait a minute,” Travis said. “Is this something you’re coming back here for later? Am I storing it for you?”

Abner shook his head. “No—no, I’m giving it to you! I’ve got no more use for it.”

Travis had the distinct feeling that Abner was trying to put something over on him. Whatever was under that tarp, the old man wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be rejected and sent on its way.

But what did he have to lose by taking it? Travis reasoned. The worst it could turn out to be was a piece of junk that he’d have to haul away. And at least in that case the flatbed might come in handy.

“All right,” he said. “Pull the truck in and follow me.”

Beyond the barn was an open-fronted shed that would have once housed vehicles and farm equipment. It was wide and deep enough to accommodate Abner’s mystery object with room to spare. Travis stood to one side, guiding with hand and voice signals, as Abner backed the flatbed up to the rear wall. “That’s it . . . a little more . . . whoa!”

Grinning, Abner climbed out of the cab and walked back to unfasten the trailer hitch. Travis waited while he unhooked the clips that held the tarp in place. “Now you’re going to see something special,” the old man said.

Lifting the edges of the tarp with his hands, he swept it to one side with a flourish.

Travis’s jaw dropped. Whatever he’d expected to see, it wasn’t this.

On the flatbed, freshly painted in red and gold, stood a full-sized, old-fashioned sleigh.





Chapter 3


Travis stared at the sleigh. It was a stunning piece of work, beautifully detailed down to the polished brass trim and the gleaming runners. But what on earth was he supposed to do with it?

“Did you steal this from Santa Claus?” It was all he could think of to say.

Abner chuckled. “I built it myself, more than twenty years ago. It’s been the star of Branding Iron’s Christmas parade ever since. But in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t need to steal anything from Santa Claus. I am Santa Claus.”

Was the old man delusional? Travis’s gaze took in the round, rosy face and twinkling blue eyes, the white stubble of a beard, his pudgy build. There was something Santa-like about Abner Jenkins. But Travis had never believed in fairy tales.