Christmas on My Mind Read Free

furtive side-glance. Maybe she was thinking that her long drive had been for nothing. Maybe she was about to change her mind, turn around and hightail it back to Kansas City as soon as her car was fixed. Knowing what she was about to face, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
    They were nearing the outskirts of town when she finally spoke. “I want to see my mother. Will you take me to her?”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œIs there a better time?”
    â€œI guess not, if that’s what you want,” Ben said. “There’s no telling how Francine will take this. I’d be willing to talk to her first and tell her you’ve come.”
    â€œNo. I’ll tell her myself.” She spoke with calm determination. “This won’t be like I’d planned. But at least I’ve found her. It’ll have to do.”
    The steel in her voice surprised Ben. When he’d first seen her trying to push her car, she’d appeared as fragile as a lost kitten. But now something told him Jess Ramsey was tougher than she looked.
    * * *
    The clouds had released a cold, misting rain, just enough to turn the dust on the sheriff’s SUV to muddy streaks before it stopped. Gazing through the dirt-speckled windshield, Jess watched Branding Iron come into view. Since she’d warned herself not to expect much, she wasn’t disappointed. Surrounded by smaller farms and modest ranches, it was right out of Mayberry R.F.D. , just large enough for the basic needs of the scattered community. There was a hardware and feed store with a Christmas tree lot on the outskirts of town, and a newer strip mall with what looked like a Super Shop Mart, the parking lot crowded with Black Friday bargain hunters. “That store’s the biggest thing in the county,” the sheriff said. “Until this past summer, when the company expanded it, it was just groceries. Now it’s got clothes, housewares, electronics, you name it. It’s brought in a lot of business—for the rest of the town as well. Hank’s Hardware, where you saw the Christmas trees, used to be just a feed store. It’s doubled in size in the past year.”
    He turned onto an old-fashioned main street where Christmas lights were being strung between the light poles. Branching off it were streets with schools, a bank, a couple of churches, and a low red-brick building that housed the library, the city and county offices and—her pulse quickened as she saw the sign outside—the jail.
    â€œIsn’t that where my mother is?” she asked as Ben Marsden drove past the place without even slowing down.
    â€œIt is. But I need to run a quick errand first. I promised Francine I’d stop by and feed her cat.
    â€œFeed her cat?” She stared at him. “But you’re the sheriff! She’s in your jail!”
    â€œI know. But her place isn’t far, and Francine’s right fond of that old cat. Somebody’s got to look after him while she’s doing her time.”
    â€œI can’t believe this!” she said.
    He chuckled. “Well, you’re not in Kansas City anymore, Jess. As I said before, welcome to Branding Iron.”
    He drove to the end of the street and made a right turn onto a graveled lane. At the end of it was what looked like a run-down campground. As they drove in through the open gate, Jess could see rows of concrete pads with hookups for camp trailers. Most were empty, the spaces between overgrown with tall, dry weeds. The half-dozen scattered trailers that remained were small and dilapidated. Some showed signs of being lived-in. Most did not.
    â€œMy mother lives here?” Jess asked, dismayed.
    â€œRight here.” Ben pulled up to the nearest trailer, this one so small it looked as if a Volkswagen Beetle could pull it. Its aluminum sides were dented, and the screen door had a hole in it, low down, where someone might have kicked it in.
    â€œYou wanted me to see this,