A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas by Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell
Authors: Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell
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cluster of townspeople.
“Oh, what’s that?” She studied the envelope in his hand.
“A letter from my mother. She wants me to leave Jackson. She thinks I’ve made a mistake in coming here.”
“Do you think so?”
“No, I don’t. I haven’t felt quite at home anywhere else.”
“Good. I like having you here again. It … it wasn’t the same here without you.” Her cheeks took on a deep red hue.
He nodded. He didn’t dare tell her that his mother said his former fiancée was asking about him—regularly.
Chapter 4
… Amelia has been asking about you, wondering when you’ll come to your senses and return to St. Louis. I told her I simply did not know. I hope and pray you’ll see your place is here, not in that wild and Godless place
.
I remain always
,
Your loving mother
P.S. There is still time for you to take the train back and be here for Christmas
.
C hristmas.
Will smiled and folded the letter, shaking his head as he did so. Christmas was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. Not that he didn’t want to celebrate. There wasn’t much hubbub here, no displays in shop windows like he’d seen on a visit to New York City while in law school. The Jackson General Store carried a few gift-type items, but the prices on some items made shopping a bit prohibitive at times, as anything and everything had to be literally carted over the pass from Idaho.
He remembered his favorite Christmas present from the old days, as he used to call them. His father had hand carved a prancing horse from a single piece of mountain ash, had buffed and oiled the wood until it glowed. The horse, a handmade woolen scarf from his mother, and a small sack of candy were his gifts that year. The last Christmas with his father.
Mother would be smiling if she knew his thoughts. He wanted the familiar, to look out the window and see the same landscape from his memories. But Jackson had changed, and so had he.
Yes, it was a wild place, the stuff of legend. Godless? No. He knew the scriptures.
Where can I go from Your spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there
.
Jackson had its rough-and-tumble reputation, but there were still good people here, and he had a chance to make a difference among them. Amelia had begged him to stay in St. Louis, but when he’d heard her and her father planning out the next half century of his life, he couldn’t breathe. The city’s buildings, too, closed in around him. Then came the arguments, him not wanting to stay and her refusing to consider the idea of moving west. He’d broken the engagement, given notice at the firm, emptied his account of his savings, and headed west to Jackson.
He’d breathed easier since.
The afternoon shadows had grown longer the closer the days slid toward December. He set the letter on his desk and stepped toward the window of the tiny one-room office. The door behind him led to a makeshift bedroom. He found the space a convenient spot to rent until his practice grew.
He gazed out the window at Jackson’s traffic, such as it was. People trying to get business done before sundown. He’d had one client today, someone wanting to prepare a will, Edgar Banks.
The start of the process itself had taken perhaps an hour, but then Edgar had remained, talking for almost an hour more. He’d known Will’s father, and Will allowed his own curiosity to be satisfied. In fact, Edgar had been the one to buy the homestead from his mother.
A familiar figure, riding a lanky chestnut astride, came into view. Emily Covington. He wondered what had brought her to town this fine afternoon. Maybe she was just like the rest of the Jackson folk, enjoying a sunny day as an excuse to leave the house.
He smiled as she kept her seat while keeping the horse reined in. A lesser rider would have been thrown. The chestnut gave a kick with its hind legs then surged forward. Emily’s lips
“Oh, what’s that?” She studied the envelope in his hand.
“A letter from my mother. She wants me to leave Jackson. She thinks I’ve made a mistake in coming here.”
“Do you think so?”
“No, I don’t. I haven’t felt quite at home anywhere else.”
“Good. I like having you here again. It … it wasn’t the same here without you.” Her cheeks took on a deep red hue.
He nodded. He didn’t dare tell her that his mother said his former fiancée was asking about him—regularly.
Chapter 4
… Amelia has been asking about you, wondering when you’ll come to your senses and return to St. Louis. I told her I simply did not know. I hope and pray you’ll see your place is here, not in that wild and Godless place
.
I remain always
,
Your loving mother
P.S. There is still time for you to take the train back and be here for Christmas
.
C hristmas.
Will smiled and folded the letter, shaking his head as he did so. Christmas was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. Not that he didn’t want to celebrate. There wasn’t much hubbub here, no displays in shop windows like he’d seen on a visit to New York City while in law school. The Jackson General Store carried a few gift-type items, but the prices on some items made shopping a bit prohibitive at times, as anything and everything had to be literally carted over the pass from Idaho.
He remembered his favorite Christmas present from the old days, as he used to call them. His father had hand carved a prancing horse from a single piece of mountain ash, had buffed and oiled the wood until it glowed. The horse, a handmade woolen scarf from his mother, and a small sack of candy were his gifts that year. The last Christmas with his father.
Mother would be smiling if she knew his thoughts. He wanted the familiar, to look out the window and see the same landscape from his memories. But Jackson had changed, and so had he.
Yes, it was a wild place, the stuff of legend. Godless? No. He knew the scriptures.
Where can I go from Your spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there
.
Jackson had its rough-and-tumble reputation, but there were still good people here, and he had a chance to make a difference among them. Amelia had begged him to stay in St. Louis, but when he’d heard her and her father planning out the next half century of his life, he couldn’t breathe. The city’s buildings, too, closed in around him. Then came the arguments, him not wanting to stay and her refusing to consider the idea of moving west. He’d broken the engagement, given notice at the firm, emptied his account of his savings, and headed west to Jackson.
He’d breathed easier since.
The afternoon shadows had grown longer the closer the days slid toward December. He set the letter on his desk and stepped toward the window of the tiny one-room office. The door behind him led to a makeshift bedroom. He found the space a convenient spot to rent until his practice grew.
He gazed out the window at Jackson’s traffic, such as it was. People trying to get business done before sundown. He’d had one client today, someone wanting to prepare a will, Edgar Banks.
The start of the process itself had taken perhaps an hour, but then Edgar had remained, talking for almost an hour more. He’d known Will’s father, and Will allowed his own curiosity to be satisfied. In fact, Edgar had been the one to buy the homestead from his mother.
A familiar figure, riding a lanky chestnut astride, came into view. Emily Covington. He wondered what had brought her to town this fine afternoon. Maybe she was just like the rest of the Jackson folk, enjoying a sunny day as an excuse to leave the house.
He smiled as she kept her seat while keeping the horse reined in. A lesser rider would have been thrown. The chestnut gave a kick with its hind legs then surged forward. Emily’s lips
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