Santa's Sweetheart

Book 4: Christmas Tree Ranch

by Janet Dailey

Genres: Holiday books; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

The delightful and entertaining new holiday novel from the legendary author of dozens of treasured romances! This Christmas, visit the small town of Branding Iron, Texas, where it’s time for the Cowboy Christmas Ball and one irritable sheriff is about to get in the spirit of the season…and find love along the way.

Sheriff Sam Delaney is shouldering a lot as the lone lawman in the small Texas town of Branding Iron—and the widowed single father of six-year-old Maggie. Especially since Maggie’s determined that what her daddy needs this holiday season is a girlfriend. Suddenly Sam is hustled off to a meeting with Maggie’s schoolteacher—and surprised to discover the demure Grace Chapman is unexpectedly alluring. Then he’s roped into playing Santa at the annual Christmas ball, with the pretty Miss Grace by his side. It’s enough to make Sam even grumpier than usual—if not for the feelings sweet Grace stirs up inside . . .
 
Grace only wants to heal after her broken engagement. So why is she so charmed by the slow smile—and the surprising tenderness—of the town’s sheriff?  Maybe because Grace is discovering that beneath Sam’s gruff exterior lies a heart as big as Texas, especially when it comes to the women in his life—like little Maggie. And now her… Which only has Grace hoping she’ll be Santa’s sweetheart for many seasons to come . . .
 

Release date: September 28, 2021

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

The microwaved turkey TV dinners were the best that Sheriff Sam Delaney could manage this year. His six-year-old daughter, Maggie, hid her disappointment with a brave smile.

“It’s all right, Daddy,” she said, clearing the foil trays off the table. “Next year I’ll be big enough to cook dinner myself, with a real turkey and everything, just like Mommy used to make.”

“I’m sure you will, honey.” Sam hugged her close, fighting the rush of emotion that threatened to bring tears to his eyes. Bethany, his wife and Maggie’s mother, had died in a car accident a year ago, just a week before Thanksgiving. After it happened, Sam had sent Maggie to stay with her grandparents until after the holidays, while he struggled to cope with loss and grief. This year would be their first holiday season together since Bethany’s passing. So far, Sam wasn’t handling it well.

“Hey, at least we’ve got pumpkin pie,” he said, picking up the frozen treat he’d grabbed at the market. “Let’s see if it’s thawed.” He tested it with a knife. The point went in partway, then met icy resistance. “Sorry,” Sam said. “I guess I should’ve given it more time out of the freezer.”

“Let’s have some anyway,” Maggie said. “It’ll be like eating pumpkin ice cream!”

Using the force of his big hand, Sam managed to hack out two slices of pie, slide them onto saucers, and squirt canned Reddi-wip over the top. Exchanging a thumbs-up and a smile, they each broke off a piece and took a taste.

“Yuck,” Maggie said, putting down her fork. Sam did the same. Even with topping, the half-frozen pie was nothing like ice cream. It was more like mushy ice. Maybe he should have cooked it in the oven instead of just trying to thaw it.

“Sorry, honey,” Sam said. “If I hadn’t needed to work this morning . . .”

“I know, Daddy,” Maggie said. “Your job is to keep people safe, even on Thanksgiving. That’s why I’m going to make dinner next year. We’ve got Mom’s big red and white cookbook, the one that was Grandma’s. I can read and learn how. Hey, the Christmas specials are starting on TV. Want to watch them with me? We can make popcorn.”

“Sure.” Sam’s heart had been set on football, but if his little girl, who had just eaten the worst Thanksgiving dinner ever, wanted to watch Frosty and Rudolph and Charlie Brown, who was he to spoil her day?

Maggie put the popcorn bag in the microwave and punched the buttons. As the sound of popping and the buttery smell filled the kitchen, Sam found a bowl on a high shelf and had it ready to hold the popcorn when it was done.

With the bowl between them, they settled on the couch to watch the kiddie shows. Sam sighed as the folksy voice of Burl Ives rolled out “Frosty the Snowman.” Things could be worse, he told himself. At least Maggie appeared to be holding up all right. She’d always been an upbeat kid, choosing to see the sunny side of things. Or, more likely, she was just being brave. But he knew she missed her mother every day, just as he did.

As she munched her popcorn and watched her show, Sam studied her stubborn young profile. Maggie had her mother’s curly auburn hair, green eyes, and the same sprinkle of freckles across her nose. But the rest of her was all Delaney. She was going to be a pretty woman one day. And tall. How tall remained to be seen.

There was a reason people referred to their sheriff as “Big Sam.” At six-foot-four and a husky 250 pounds, there was no more descriptive word for him than big. He’d played defensive line in college and had been a likely candidate for the NFL until he’d blown out his knee—blown it out spectacularly in a nationally televised game. Damned knee. It still gave him a slight limp and pained him in cold weather.

With his pro football hopes gone and his athletic scholarship ended, Sam had come home to Branding Iron, married Bethany, won the election for county sheriff, and gotten on with what he’d thought of as his real life—real, until last year when a drunk driver on an ice-slicked road had changed it forever.

The program had gone to a commercial. Maggie stirred beside him. “Daddy?” she said.

“Mm-hmm?” he muttered, giving her his attention.

“I’ve been thinking about something. Do you know what you need?”

“What, honey?” Maybe she was going to suggest that they replace their geriatric TV or the rusting Ford pickup he drove when he wasn’t on duty.

“I can tell you’re lonely, Daddy,” she said. “You need a wife—or maybe, for now, just a girlfriend. What do you think about finding one?”

Sam’s throat jerked tight. His daughter was full of surprises. But where the hell had that come from?

Maggie was only in first grade. But there were two things she knew for sure. Number one: As much as she missed her mother, and as hard as she’d cried and prayed, Bethany Delaney was never coming back. And number two: The happy smile her father wore when she was around was as fake as a Halloween mask. Behind it, Big Sam was lonely and sad—and he wasn’t getting better.

Nobody could ever take the place of Maggie’s mother. But she couldn’t let her father be unhappy forever. Now that his wife Bethany had been gone for more than a year, it was time he found a good woman to make him smile again for real. But so far, he wasn’t dating—or even looking, as far as she could tell.

When she’d brought up her idea on Thanksgiving Day, while they were watching TV, he had shut her right down. “I’m not ready to think about that, Maggie,” he’d told her. “Maybe I’ll never be ready, but that’s my choice. So please don’t mention it again.”

Fine, Maggie told herself. She wouldn’t mention it again. But that didn’t mean she was giving up. If her father wasn’t ready to find a lady friend, she would find one for him. And when she found the right one, she would work on a way to get them together.

Keeping her scheme to herself, she started her search the next day. Stella Galanos, who owned the small bakery on Main Street was a pretty woman, with dark hair and eyes. Besides being nice, she was a wonderful cook. But when Maggie talked Big Sam into stopping by for a batch of glazed doughnuts, she noticed a sparkly diamond engagement ring on Stella’s finger. Too bad. With a sigh, Maggie crossed Stella off her mental list.

On the way home, the same day, they paid a visit to the Branding Iron Public Library. Both Maggie and Big Sam loved to read, and they loaded up with books—mystery and action for him, and Beverly Cleary’s Ramona books for her. They were above her grade level, but Maggie had discovered that once she’d learned the basics, she could read anything she wanted to. The librarian, Clara Marsden, was a lovely woman. She would have been a perfect choice. But Maggie knew she had a husband. Their son, Ben, was in Maggie’s class at school.

That night, as she watched Big Sam make chili with hamburger, canned pork, beans, and a little chili powder, Maggie tried to imagine the kind of woman who’d be right for him. She wouldn’t have to be a beauty like Maggie’s mother. But getting Sam interested might be easier if she was at least pretty. Of course, she would have to be nice. Being smart would help, too. And if she liked to laugh and sing and cook, she would be perfect.

But as Maggie was learning, finding a woman like that, who was single and might like to date her dad, was not as easy as she’d hoped it would be.

On the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, Maggie’s father had to work all day. When he was working, and Maggie wasn’t in school, she usually stayed with the neighbors, an older couple who were happy to have her as long as she kept herself entertained with reading, schoolwork, TV, or petting their grumpy ginger cat. She was always glad to see the big, tan Jeep Cherokee, with its oversized tires and the sheriff’s logo on the door, pull up in front of the house.

Today, when Big Sam arrived home, Maggie was waiting on the neighbors’ porch with her coat on and her book bag over her shoulder. She ran down the steps and across the bare grass to meet him.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s my best girl?”

“Did you remember, Daddy?” she asked.

“Did I remember that we’re going to Buckaroo’s for burgers and shakes? You bet I did. Come on. Let’s get in the truck. You can put your bag behind the seat.”

Her father backed the pickup out of the driveway and headed downtown. Buckaroo’s was Branding

Iron’s only restaurant. Its menu consisted of burgers, fries, hot dogs, pizza, sodas, shakes, and wonderful pie from Stella’s bakery. The décor hadn’t changed since the 1950s but the food was the best.

Maggie loved being at Buckaroo’s with her dad. Everybody in the place seemed to know Big Sam, and he knew them. People often stopped by their booth to chat or just to say hello. Some had questions or even problems, and Sam was always willing to listen. That was part of his job, even when he wasn’t on duty, he’d told her. Talking with people helped him know what was going on in his town and who might need his help.

Today, when they walked into the restaurant, the loudspeakers mounted above the counter were playing Christmas music. Elvis Presley was crooning the words to “Blue Christmas.”

A pained expression flickered across Sam’s face as they found their booth. Maggie remembered that her mother used to play that song. Back then, Maggie had liked it. Now it only made her sad. It probably made her father sad, too. Christmas was going to be a hard time this year. It would help if she could find Sam a new lady friend before the holidays. But with Christmas less than a month away, that wasn’t going to be easy.

“Hi, Sam. Hi, Maggie. What can I get you?” Connie Iverson, the waitress, was young with dishwater blond hair and a smile that made her thin face almost pretty. But she was barely out of high school, too young for Sam. And everybody knew she had a boyfriend—Silas Parker—who was in the army now.

Sam ordered burgers, one loaded and one with just meat and cheese, fries, and two chocolate shakes. “How’s Silas liking the military, Connie?” he asked her.

Connie’s smile widened. “Fine. Silas always did like tinkering with cars. Now he’s learning to be a mechanic. When he comes home next year, he wants to open a garage.”

“That would be great,” Sam said. “People in Branding Iron could really use a good place to take their vehicles. He’ll get plenty of business. Next time Silas calls, tell him I said hello.”

“Will do.” Connie bustled off to give their order to the cook.

“Maybe you should run for mayor, Daddy,” Maggie said.

“Why’s that?” Sam asked.

“Because you’re always looking out for people, and you know everything that’s going on in town. Besides, if you were mayor, you wouldn’t have to get up in the night to go out on calls when something bad happens.”

Sam reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “If I was mayor, who’d be sheriff? That’s my job, and I like it. Being mayor would be boring—sitting behind a desk and listening to people complain all day.”

“Oh. Okay.” The music had changed to “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and now Connie was coming back with their shakes. Maybe this would be a good time to mention getting a Christmas tree. But on second thought, that could wait. Sam never wanted to talk about Christmas, and Maggie didn’t want to spoil their good time. But the girlfriend thing—if she wanted that to happen by Christmas, she would have to move fast.

On Sunday morning they went to church. Fran Conroy, who played the organ, was a pretty, blond woman, and a widow. Every time she passed Big Sam in the aisle or the doorway of the church, she gave him a smile that reminded Maggie of a model in a toothpaste ad.

Maggie could tell that Fran was interested in her dad. But a few weeks ago, Fran had scolded her for running in the hall when she was late for Sunday school class. The woman had acted mean. She’d even shaken her finger, almost touching Maggie’s nose. Some of the kids were scared of her. Maggie wasn’t scared, but she certainly didn’t want Sam to have a mean girlfriend, or especially a mean wife, should he decide to get married.

On Sunday evening, Maggie and her dad stayed home. Sam read his new mystery book while Maggie watched more Christmas specials on TV. But her thoughts weren’t staying on the programs. She’d wasted three whole days and hadn’t even come close to finding the right woman for her father. Tomorrow she’d be back in school, and Sam would be back on his regular work schedule. There wouldn’t be much chance for either of them to get out and meet people, including single women. Maybe she was going to need more time. But it was too soon to give up. Seeing her dad happy was too important for that.

On Monday morning, Sam dropped Maggie off at school and drove to the ninety-year-old stone building that housed the mayor’s office, the court, the public library, the jail, and the sheriff’s office. Branding Iron was the county seat, but Mason County was small, with most of the land in farms and ranches. The population of the town was less than 2,500. Sam was the only full-time law enforcement officer. He shared the job with two on-call deputies and Helen, his sixty-year-old receptionist and office manager.

Already at her desk, she greeted Sam as he walked in.

“Anything happening?” he asked her, hanging up the leather coat that was part of his uniform.

“So far it’s been pretty quiet, but you know that won’t last.” She shuffled a stack of reports and put them aside to be filed. “So, how was your holiday? Sorry, I know it couldn’t have been an easy time for you.”

“We got through it,” Sam said. “Although Maggie says she’s going to cook us a real dinner next year, turkey and all.”

“Knowing Maggie, that wouldn’t surprise me,” Helen said. “That little girl can do anything she puts her mind to.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t remind me. I think her new project is finding me a girlfriend. At least she was talking about it the other night.”

“Well, why not, Sam? I know the two of you suffered a terrible loss. But Bethany was a loving, generous woman. You know that she wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone, and she wouldn’t have wanted Maggie to grow up without a mother.”

Sam felt the same stab at his heart that he’d experienced when Maggie brought up the subject. “Blast it, Helen, are you and my daughter ganging up on me? It’s only been a year. It’s too soon.”

“Evidently, it isn’t too soon for Maggie. Maybe you should listen to her.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Sam said. “Earl’s been gone for what, six or seven years? I don’t see you out there cruising for men.”

“That’s different.” Helen swiveled her chair to face him. “By the time I lost Earl, I was in my fifties. We’d raised our family, done most of the things we’d planned to. You’re still young, with a daughter to raise. Besides”—she gave him a wink—“how do you know I’m not out there cruising for men? Have you put a tracker on me?”

Sam groaned. “That had better be a joke.”

“You’ll never know, will you?” She chuckled as Sam walked back to his private office and settled behind the desk to go over his agenda for the day. He had several ongoing cases to check, a trial appearance in the afternoon, and there were bound to be enough surprises to keep him busy the rest of the time.

Helen brought him a mug of coffee, strong and black, the way he liked it. “If you decide to take Maggie’s advice, I’ll be happy to spread a few subtle hints,” she said. “Once the word gets out that you’re looking, you’ll probably have women lined up outside your door with homemade pies and pans of lasagna.”

Sam sighed. “Helen, when—and if—I decide I need a woman in my life, I can find my own. I won’t need any help from you, or from Maggie. Thanks for the coffee, and please close the door when you go out.”

“Right.” He caught her grin as she sashayed toward the door. Helen was his subordinate, but she was old enough to be his mother, which pretty much put them on an even footing. She’d lasted here through three different sheriffs, and nobody knew the job, the case histories, or the people of Branding Iron the way Helen Wilkerson did.

“Oh—” She paused in the doorway. “My son was going to Cottonwood Springs today, so I asked him to pick us up a Christmas tree and charge it to the department. He’ll drop it by here on his way home.”

Christmas again. Sam sighed. “Fine, Helen. As long as you’re offering to decorate it.”

“Don’t I always?” She closed the door behind her.

Sam rose, walked to the window, and stood gazing out at the town park. The brown grass and leafless trees did nothing to improve his bleak mood. Neither did the city workers stringing colored lights across Main Street. Maybe he should have given Helen some cash and had her son pick up a second tree for him. But he knew that Maggie would want to choose the tree herself. She would want him to help her decorate it while singing along to the Christmas music on the radio. Later there’d be shopping and wrapping and the delight of Christmas morning.

Bethany had loved Christmas.

Sam felt numb to it all.

Aside from being the tallest kid in the class, Maggie liked school. While the reading groups were meeting, her teacher, Miss Chapman, usually let Maggie go to the library and get her own book to read. Maggie liked that a lot. She was just okay at math, maybe because, compared to stories, numbers seemed boring. But science, art, and music were all fine. She was good at writing, too. But the one subject Maggie hated was physical education.

Maybe it was because her coordination hadn’t caught up with last summer’s growth spurt. Whatever the reason, she was no good at anything that involved catching, throwing, hitting, jumping, or dodging. And she hated being no good. She hated being the last one chosen for a team. She hated being the first one hit in dodgeball because her height made her an easy target. And she hated striking out every time she came to bat in softball. But Maggie kept trying. She kept trying because it was expected of her.

This morning, after the Pledge of Allegiance, and the announcements, Miss Chapman, whose first name was Grace, called the roll. She was young, maybe twenty-eight or thirty, with the kind of looks that could be attractive with some help. Her light brown hair was straight and pulled back with a scrunchie into a low ponytail. She dressed like a college girl in stretch pants and a baggy gray sweater, and she wore round, wire-framed glasses with almost no makeup. The glasses made her look like a . . .