And Maggie, no doubt, would find a way to collect.
Surprisingly, he was looking forward to it.
* * *
Maggie had ordered the case of tomato juice from Shop Mart and promised one of the bag boys twenty dollars for deli
vering it. The money was waiting on the reception desk, to be picked up when he came by.
She would’ve enjoyed delivering it in person, just to see the look on Travis’s face. But the rest of her morning had been busy. The most pressing concern had been Branding Iron’s upcoming Christmas celebration. The holiday was more than six weeks away, but she was already feeling overwhelmed. So much to do—the Christmas lights wouldn’t go up until the day after Thanksgiving, but before that, the strings would need to be tested and the burned-out bulbs replaced. The town Christmas tree had to be chosen, bought, and set up; the Cowboy Christmas Ball planned by a committee; the parade organized and planned, with floats, dancers, and the Branding Iron High School Marching Band.
And then there was the star of the parade—Santa Claus and his sleigh. Until yesterday, she’d assumed it would be Abner again. Now everything was up in the air.
Maggie had spent much of the morning making phone calls. She’d called every man she could think of who might make a good Santa Claus. Nobody was willing. And none of the farmers and ranchers she’d spoken with had been interested in adopting Abner’s horses.
She’d give it a rest until tomorrow, she decided. Maybe someone new would come to mind. Or one of the people she’d already called would have a change of heart.
Meanwhile, there was the next item on her list—the Christmas trees. Slipping on her coat and grabbing her purse, she headed for her car.
Hank’s Hardware, on the highway south of town, had the only Christmas tree lot this side of Cottonwood Springs. Hank Miller usually saved at least one extra-large tree for the city’s outdoor display and another for the Christmas ball in the high school gym. But with businesses like Shop Mart as well as nearby smaller towns wanting nice, big trees, Maggie couldn’t expect Hank to hold a tree he had a chance to sell. She’d learned to show up soon after the trees were unloaded, before the lot was even open to the public.
“Howdy, Maggie. I had a feeling you’d be coming around today.” Hank greeted her with a smile. He was stocky, round-faced, and balding, with a paunch that overhung his belt by a couple of inches. It was hard to believe he was Travis’s father—until she noticed his eyes. They were that same striking shade of gray.
“Come on out. I’ll show you what I’ve set aside for you.” He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and moved ahead of her, toward the side exit of the spacious hardware store. He walked with a noticeable limp. Everyone in Branding Iron who was old enough to remember knew the story of how he’d lost his leg in a horrific farm accident and had to wear an artificial limb. His wife had left him after the accident, taking their young son. That son had been Travis.
Now the two of them, who could do so much for each other, were estranged. What had happened between them, and how could it be mended?
“Take a look. What do you think?” Inside the wire-fenced compound of the Christmas tree lot, two large pines leaned against the side of the store. With a gloved hand, he grasped the trunk of the taller one and stood it up for Maggie’s inspection. The tree was about eleven feet tall, full and bushy on all sides.
“That will be perfect for the town Christmas tree,” Maggie said. “Now let’s see the other one.”
The second tree was about two feet shorter and equally pretty. “I can show you a few more if you want,” Hank said.
“No, these will do nicely,” Maggie said. “I’ll pay you when we get back inside.”
“Great. I’ll put SOLD tags on them and store them in a safe place until you’re ready to put them up. Since that’ll be a few weeks off, I’ll even set them in water for you.”
“Thanks so much. I can always count on you, Hank.”
“Anytime.” He walked away to get the tags. Maggie waited by the tree, watching him. There was something about his rounded physique and slightly rolling gait, something about the set of his graying head on his shoulders that made her think of . . .
Santa Claus!
Something clicked in her mind. Why hadn’t she thought of Hank sooner? He’d make a perfect Santa!
But would he do it—especially when his estranged son had the horses, costume, and sleigh? Maggie knew better than to come right out and ask him. It would be too easy for him to say no. She would need to take her time—not too much time, but enough to find his soft spots and give him a reason to take the job.
This was going to take some scheming.
She helped him tie the tags on the trees and walked with him back toward the store entrance. “I’ve met your son a couple of times,” she said, trying to sound casual. “He seems like a good man.”
A pained look flickered across Hank’s face. “I imagine he is a good man. But if you talk to him again, don’t mention my name. Travis doesn’t want anything to do with me. And given our past history, I can’t say I blame him.” He gave her a warning glance as if expecting a question. “Don’t ask me to talk about it, Maggie. It’s best forgotten—except that Travis won’t forget. He doesn’t even come into the store. I’m guessing that if he needs anything, he drives to Cottonwood Springs.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said.
“Like I say, it’s best forgotten.” He opened the door for her, and they walked back into the store.
“Well, hello there!” Francine McFadden, co-owner of the local bed and breakfast and Hank’s steady girlfriend, was waiting next to the counter. “What have you two been up to? Not trying to steal my guy, are you, Maggie?” It was a joke, and both women knew it.