A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas by Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell
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moved. Her hat slipped from her head and dangled from a cord, slapping against her shoulders.
As if satisfied with himself, the chestnut tossed his head and continued at a trot along the street, mud flinging up from its hooves. Emily glanced in Will’s direction then maneuvered the horse to his side of the street and stopped at the hitching rail.
She dismounted then tied the lead to the post. Before leaving the street, she gave the horse a pat on the nose. Then she scaled the steps to the office door where Will had hung a simple hand-painted sign: W ILLIAM A DAMS , J R . A TTORNEY AT L AW.
He answered the door after her soft knock.
“Miss Covington. Please, come in.” Will took a step back so Emily could enter the office.
“Thank you.” She wore trousers, a long overcoat, and a brown hat that dangled down her back. Her dark hair hung in a long braid, several shades darker than her boots.
Will tried not to stare; it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman in trousers, but after years of city life, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of her. Wild, western. Lovely, almost as lovely as she’d appeared the evening of the town forum.
“So, what brings you to town today?”
“Errands at the general store for Mother. And Pa, too. I’m on my way to pick up the mail; Pa asked that I stop in and see if you can come to the house to help him with some paperwork. He didn’t say exactly what but wants to know if you can come a week from Friday.”
“I can do that. Morning, or afternoon?”
“Afternoon, if possible. Perhaps around two o’clock or so?”
“I can put that on my schedule.” He moved to his desk. Not that his schedule was full, by any means, but keeping a calendar would be a good habit as his practice grew.
“Good. Pa will be glad about that.”
“I’m glad to help him. I should say that’s some young colt you were riding in on today.”
“It’s a filly; we call her Cinnamon. She’s four, still a bit green. But I wanted to give her a ride out to town. She’s sassy, but she’s learning fast.” Emily went to the window and looked down toward the street.
He joined her at the window. Cinnamon stood at the hitching rail, occasionally stomping one hoof or giving a swish of her tail.
“I’ve been meaning to ask your father about buying a horse from him, or if he knows anyone with a good mount. I’ve borrowed and rented a horse, here and there, when I need to go out to ranches. But I’m at the point now when I could use a horse. In the spring, that is.”
“He should know someone. I’ll mention it to him at supper tonight.”
“Thank you.” It was a flimsy excuse. He could have asked any number of people about buying a horse, including Edgar or even Sven Olsen, but he trusted Zebulon Covington’s judgment. “Well, thank your father for me, also, about the opportunity to do business with him.”
“I will.” She paused, then opened her mouth to continue, then closed it again as if reconsidering her next words.
“Yes? Were you going to say something else?”
“Ah, I’m sure Mother won’t mind if you stay for supper. I’ll … I’ll have some work with the dogs to do, but it would be very nice to see you at supper.” Her cheeks bloomed a deep shade of pink.
“Why, I’d like that very much, too.” He watched a wagon pass by, the driver reining in the team. Gus Tolliver came over the pass. And sitting next to him, wide-eyed and chattering away, sat Amelia Clark.
What on earth? Surely his eyes deceived him.
“Wonder why they’re stopping here.” Emily glanced his way. She probably saw his dismay, shock, as Amelia stepped down from the wagon with Gus’s assistance. Amelia squinted up at the building. Her face brightened and she waved.
“That’s …”
Footsteps sounded on the steps as Amelia made quick work to get to the door.
It opened and she stepped inside, accompanied by a swirl of cold air.
“William, I made it.” Amelia shut the door firmly behind
As if satisfied with himself, the chestnut tossed his head and continued at a trot along the street, mud flinging up from its hooves. Emily glanced in Will’s direction then maneuvered the horse to his side of the street and stopped at the hitching rail.
She dismounted then tied the lead to the post. Before leaving the street, she gave the horse a pat on the nose. Then she scaled the steps to the office door where Will had hung a simple hand-painted sign: W ILLIAM A DAMS , J R . A TTORNEY AT L AW.
He answered the door after her soft knock.
“Miss Covington. Please, come in.” Will took a step back so Emily could enter the office.
“Thank you.” She wore trousers, a long overcoat, and a brown hat that dangled down her back. Her dark hair hung in a long braid, several shades darker than her boots.
Will tried not to stare; it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman in trousers, but after years of city life, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of her. Wild, western. Lovely, almost as lovely as she’d appeared the evening of the town forum.
“So, what brings you to town today?”
“Errands at the general store for Mother. And Pa, too. I’m on my way to pick up the mail; Pa asked that I stop in and see if you can come to the house to help him with some paperwork. He didn’t say exactly what but wants to know if you can come a week from Friday.”
“I can do that. Morning, or afternoon?”
“Afternoon, if possible. Perhaps around two o’clock or so?”
“I can put that on my schedule.” He moved to his desk. Not that his schedule was full, by any means, but keeping a calendar would be a good habit as his practice grew.
“Good. Pa will be glad about that.”
“I’m glad to help him. I should say that’s some young colt you were riding in on today.”
“It’s a filly; we call her Cinnamon. She’s four, still a bit green. But I wanted to give her a ride out to town. She’s sassy, but she’s learning fast.” Emily went to the window and looked down toward the street.
He joined her at the window. Cinnamon stood at the hitching rail, occasionally stomping one hoof or giving a swish of her tail.
“I’ve been meaning to ask your father about buying a horse from him, or if he knows anyone with a good mount. I’ve borrowed and rented a horse, here and there, when I need to go out to ranches. But I’m at the point now when I could use a horse. In the spring, that is.”
“He should know someone. I’ll mention it to him at supper tonight.”
“Thank you.” It was a flimsy excuse. He could have asked any number of people about buying a horse, including Edgar or even Sven Olsen, but he trusted Zebulon Covington’s judgment. “Well, thank your father for me, also, about the opportunity to do business with him.”
“I will.” She paused, then opened her mouth to continue, then closed it again as if reconsidering her next words.
“Yes? Were you going to say something else?”
“Ah, I’m sure Mother won’t mind if you stay for supper. I’ll … I’ll have some work with the dogs to do, but it would be very nice to see you at supper.” Her cheeks bloomed a deep shade of pink.
“Why, I’d like that very much, too.” He watched a wagon pass by, the driver reining in the team. Gus Tolliver came over the pass. And sitting next to him, wide-eyed and chattering away, sat Amelia Clark.
What on earth? Surely his eyes deceived him.
“Wonder why they’re stopping here.” Emily glanced his way. She probably saw his dismay, shock, as Amelia stepped down from the wagon with Gus’s assistance. Amelia squinted up at the building. Her face brightened and she waved.
“That’s …”
Footsteps sounded on the steps as Amelia made quick work to get to the door.
It opened and she stepped inside, accompanied by a swirl of cold air.
“William, I made it.” Amelia shut the door firmly behind
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