My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(8)

“Gotcha, didn’t I?” Abner was laughing. “No need to worry. I don’t fly through the sky delivering presents. But I’ve played Santa in the Christmas parade ever since I built the sleigh. It’s a big event. The whole town looks forward to it.” He studied Travis’s skeptical expression. “You’ve never seen the parade?”

“I didn’t bother to go last year. Before that I wasn’t here.” Travis didn’t bother to add that he’d been in prison.

Inside the sleigh, there were two bench seats—a small, plain one, set low and forward, which Travis guessed was for the actual driver of the sleigh. The elevated rear seat, which appeared to have been salvaged from a high-end automobile, would be where Santa could sit and wave to the crowds. A step made it easier for an old man to get up and down.

Abner beckoned Travis closer. “Here. Take a look at this.”

In the bed of the sleigh was a large, sturdy cardboard box. Opening the top, Abner lifted out a smaller box to reveal, beneath it, two sets of leather harness with collars, straps, buckles, and lines. The huge collars were trimmed with miniature brass bells. “For the reindeer,” he joked.

Travis didn’t have to be told that the old man’s “reindeer” were the two massive Percherons munching hay in the barn. The whole picture was beginning to make sense. But Travis still felt as if he’d stepped into a surrealistic dream. And somehow, he couldn’t seem to wake up.

“Patch and Chip have been pulling the sleigh for the past fourteen years,” Abner said. “If there’s no snow for the parade, the sleigh gets pulled on the flatbed,” Abner said. “When there’s enough snow for the runners . . .” Abner’s eyes took on a faraway look. “That’s when it’s like magic. The sleigh almost seems to fly. Now take a look at this . . .” He unfolded the flaps on the smaller box. Inside was a red velvet Santa suit, complete with gloves, boots, a belt, a hat, and a fake beard.

“I’ve worn these in the parade every year.” Abner dabbed at his eyes. “It makes me sad to think I’ve done it for the last time.”

“Can’t you stay for the parade, or come back?” Travis asked.

“My kids won’t hear of it. They think being out in the cold might make me sick. So this gear is all yours now.”

“Wait a minute!” Travis reeled as if he’d been punched. “You’re not expecting me to play Santa Claus, are you?”

The old man surveyed Travis’s lanky six-foot frame and shook his head. “You’re too tall and skinny for the suit. You could always have it altered. But the important thing is that you have the Christmas spirit—that you really feel like Santa Claus.”

Travis shook his head. “No way in hell am I going to put on that suit and play Santa,” he said. “I’ll keep the suit for now, but believe me, I’m never going to wear it.”

Abner sighed. “Well, all right. If you don’t mind keepin’ it safe, I’ll let Maggie know you’ve got it. Maybe she can find somebody else for the job.”

“Maggie? Who’s that?”

“Maggie Delaney, the mayor. Tall redhead. A real looker, but too bossy for most men around here. Probably why she’s an old maid. You’d remember her if you’d met her.”

Something told Travis he already had. At least he knew why the big black Lincoln had been parked in the mayor’s slot. So much for old-fashioned male bias. Maybe if she came by, he could talk the sexy mayor into taking the sleigh and the Santa gear off his hands. She might even know somebody who could take the horses.

Abner turned and ambled back toward the truck. “Well, I guess I’ll be goin’. I’d say good-bye to old Bucket, but it looks like he’s already off explorin’ the new place. Give him a little extra attention, and he’ll be fine. Thanks again. Sorry we didn’t get to know each other better. You’ve been a true friend.”

Travis accepted the old man’s parting handshake. As he watched Abner drive out of the yard, a vague panic welled up inside him. At the start of the day, he’d had no worries except his own. Now he was solely responsible for the welfare of two horses the size of half-grown elephants and a mutt that seemed to have a mind all its own.

As the truck vanished toward the highway, he could hear the dog’s muffled bark coming from the rear of the house. Ignore it, he told himself. He’d agreed to feed and shelter the dog he still thought of as Abner’s. But he hadn’t signed on to babysit the fool creature. Bucket could take care of himself.

The barking continued, growing louder and more intense. Maybe the damned dog was in some kind of trouble. It might not be a bad idea to check.

Cursing, Travis followed the noise around the house. From the far side of the back porch, he glimpsed flying dirt and heard excited yips.

A few more steps and he could see a black rump and plumed tail sticking out from under the porch. Some creature must’ve taken refuge under there, and Bucket was going after it, digging like a machine. For a moment, Travis was tempted to let him dig. But whatever was under the porch could be nasty—a badger, maybe, or even a rattlesnake looking for a warm place to den up. It was time to step in.

“Come on, Bucket, that’s enough!” he said.

When Bucket didn’t respond, Travis seized him by the hindquarters and pulled. Bucket resisted, digging in with his paws. He wasn’t a big dog—forty pounds maybe—but he was stubborn and determined. Travis had to pull with all his strength. He was leaning back, tugging and cursing, when Bucket yelped and popped out of the hole. Travis lost his balance and stumbled backward, just in time to save himself.