The Forest Ranger's Christmas Read Free Page A

out,” he said.
    Tim backed up, tossing a wary glance toward him. Clint had jurisdiction in this situation and the lawman could do nothing without his say-so.
    “Frank, I was told that you were selling these trees for a profit. From what you’ve said, that isn’t true.” Clint spoke in a congenial tone, determined to keep the peace.
    Frank shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’ve never sold a tree in my life. Who told you that?”
    Clint’s gaze wavered over the policeman for a fraction of a second. Tim had come to the Forest Service office less than an hour earlier to tattle on Frank. Unfortunately, the officer didn’t have his facts straight. Or he’d possibly omitted a few things from his report. Right now, it didn’t matter. Clint was not having Frank arrested.
    “I realize now that was a mistake,” Clint said. “A complete misunderstanding. But I hope you can see why I had to check it out.”
    Frank peered at the ranger with doubt. “It’s not true. I give all the trees away, except for the one I set up in my own living room each year.”
    Clint reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a slim pamphlet. Tree theft of any kind was a common occurrence that cost taxpayers millions of dollars every year. As the local forest ranger, Clint had to follow up and prevent theft whenever possible. “I’m afraid you need a permit. I’m surprised you didn’t notice all the signs we have posted along the main road leading up into the mountains. You didn’t see any of them?”
    Frank shrugged his sagging shoulders. “Uh, sure, I saw the signs, but I didn’t stop to read them.”
    “The lettering is quite large. We made the signs that way on purpose. You wouldn’t need to get out of your car to read what they say. This tells you all about the permits.” Clint handed him the pamphlet.
    Frank barely glanced at the glossy paper. “How much is a permit? How do I buy one?”
    Clint pointed at the brochure. “You can read all the information right there.”
    Frank stared at it blankly. “Uh, my glasses are in the house. I’ll have to read it later.”
    Clint considered the elderly man carefully. A sense of doubt assailed him, a nagging suspicion he’d been fighting off for some time now. But he didn’t want to embarrass Frank. Before he could act on his hunch, he’d have to get rid of the cop.
    Reaching up, he clapped the policeman on the back. “Officer Wilkins, I appreciate you coming over here. But I believe it was a false call and I can take care of the situation from here on out.”
    “Are you sure, Ranger?” Tim drawled, his chest puffing out with importance. “I can haul the suspect down to the jail for more questioning, if you like.”
    “Suspect!”
The word burst from Josie’s mouth like a nuclear explosion. “Timmy Wilkins, this is my grandfather you’re talking about. And you know perfectly well that you used to steal candy from Milton’s Grocery Store when we were eleven years old. Who are you to accuse my grandfather of theft?”
    “I, um, don’t recall that.” Tim ducked his head, his face flushing red as a new fire engine.
    Clint shot Josie a quizzical look, wishing she wasn’t here right now. He felt out of sorts around her. Around any woman, for that matter. Ever since Karen had died. But Josie had made a good point. Officer Wilkins wasn’t without faults. None of them were.
    “We’re not arresting Frank.” Clint’s voice nailed the final verdict.
    “There’s no need to mollycoddle Frank just because we’re all friends and neighbors. The law is the law and it can’t be broken, even in a small town like Camlin,” Tim said.
    Josie shook her head, not accepting his sudden lapse in memory. “My grandfather has not knowingly broken any law. You’re not taking him anywhere.”
    “Of course he’s not.” Clint tried to show a tolerant smile. “Officer, I’m sorry to have dragged you away from your busy day. Merry Christmas.” He gave Tim’s shoulder a gentle nudge