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“I managed to move them in here after a few days,” Tracy said. “Take a look.”
Rush looked down into the box. The calico mother, well-fed and calm, was curled on an old blue sweater, nursing her babies. By now the kittens were two weeks old. Their eyes were open, and their little bodies were filling out. As many times as he’d seen kittens, Rush never got tired of watching them.
“They’re looking great,” Rush said. “You’ve learned a lot about cats since the last time I saw you.”
“I had a good teacher. You were right about mother cats. She knew exactly what to do.”
“So, have you given her a name yet?”
“Not a real one. I just call her Mama.” Tracy reached down into the box and stroked the cat’s head. “When will the kittens be ready for new homes?”
“After they’re weaned and eating solid food. By then they’ll be about two months old, just in time for Christmas. Your timing couldn’t be better.”
“Little Christmas presents.” There was warmth in Tracy’s voice and in her smile. If only she would smile at him like that, Rush mused.
“They’ll need their distemper and rabies shots before they go,” he said. “I’ll throw those in as a favor. The mother’s going to need shots, too. I’m guessing she was somebody’s pet once, but there’s no way to know whether they had her immunized. I’d do it now, but I’d rather not disturb her.”
“I can’t let you do all that for nothing,” Tracy protested.
“Can I do it for brownies?” Or to take you out to dinner?
“Brownies it is, unless you’d rather have something else.”
“Your call. I’m easy.” He followed her back into the living room. Murphy opened his eyes, then went back to sleep. “How’s he doing on the Cosequin?” Rush asked.
“A little better, I think. But since he spends most of his time sleeping, it’s hard to tell.”
“Well, let’s have a look. Can you get him up?”
“I’ll try.” Tracy stepped back into the kitchen and took a dog treat from a jar on the counter. Crouching a few feet away from the old dog, she held out the treat and coaxed him to get up and go to her. Murphy roused himself and hobbled to his mistress for his reward. At least he seemed no worse than the last time. But there was no cure for old age.
“Good boy!” Tracy hugged the dog and kissed him between his ears. It tore at Rush’s heart, seeing how much she loved the pathetic old creature and knowing what she faced.
“I can’t see much improvement yet, but keep giving him the Cosequin. At least it might keep him from getting worse.”
There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. It was all Rush could do to keep from taking her in his arms. It was time to walk away, before he made a fool of himself.
“I’ll check back in a couple of weeks,” he said, moving toward the door. “Meanwhile, if you need anything, give me a call.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “I and my entire little menagerie.”
“And don’t worry about the brownies,” he said. “I know you have a life.”
“We’ll see.” She opened the front door. “Thanks for stopping by, Rush. Have a happy holiday.”
“You too.” It was as good an exit line as any, Rush thought as he walked out and closed the door behind him. The holiday wasn’t fated to be a happy one. But at least it would be busy—maybe busy enough to keep his mind off the missing pieces in his life.
Chapter 4
In late November the weather turned frigid. The first storm of the season iced the roads and blanketed the land with snow. Morning fog froze on trees and bushes, creating a fairyland of lacy white.
At Christmas Tree Ranch, the work continued from dawn until after dark. The partners grabbed food and sleep as they could, readying the trees and the ranch for the Thanksgiving weekend opening.
Even in busy times like these, the care of the animals had to come first. Chip and Patch, the two massive Percherons, were sheltered in the barn, the cows and calves under an open-fronted shed in their pasture. All of them needed food and water, and the horse stalls needed daily cleaning. Only Bucket seemed to enjoy the wintry weather. He romped and bounded through the snow as if he’d been waiting all year for it to arrive.
The biggest and most urgent task was to cut the trees and haul them to the Christmas tree lot at Hank’s Hardware in town. Hank Miller, the owner, was Travis’s father. Last year, after settling a bitter rivalry, the partners had taken Hank into their business. He would be needing more than a hundred trees to open the lot on the day after Thanksgiving. After that, the ranch would keep him supplied with more as needed. At a fifty-fifty split of the profits, it was a good deal for everyone; and the townspeople would get fresh trees instead of having to settle for trees trucked hundreds of miles across the country.
There would be trees for sale at the ranch, too, as well as free hot cocoa, marshmallow roasting, candy canes, and sleigh rides. Families who wanted to pay extra could ride out to where the trees grew to pick and cut their own.
