A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas (19 page)

The waiting was almost too much.

Coming all this way when the man had clearly rejected her hadn’t been her idea, but the sheriff insisted. He’d been kind to assist her in contacting various outfitters and guides throughout the day, as though he had no other matters to attend to. But all were occupied and there was no vacancy in the inn, as it were, though she’d never planned to stay where her father had forbidden.

And here she was reduced to begging. She couldn’t go back to her father empty-handed after this deed she’d done. No. She’d have to bring treasure with her to appease the man, and for that, she’d need to convince this cowboy of the importance of her purpose. The value in it, and how it could help him. The sheriff knew the family well and had coached her along the ride out.

She hoped he was right.

Frankston had, in fact, left her a refund she’d discovered at the very hotel where she was staying, for all the good that did her since she’d come all this way.

Oh, Lord, what am I doing here?
Already the ambiance and nostalgia of the Old West drew her in, but she was an outsider. Sam Covington’s reaction to her plea would go a long way in giving her direction about whether or not she would be forced to return empty-handed.

Mrs. Covington appeared and leaned over Ann, setting a steaming cup on the coffee table. “Here you go, Miss Kirkland. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Her son, Sam, soon followed, looking as if he’d cleaned up, wearing a clean white cotton shirt and jeans. She might even say he looked spiffy. His jaw was strong and angular, and he’d combed his dark hair back, though she liked how it had curled every which way when she’d first met him in the grocery store. At the thought, she sucked in a breath and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

His bright blue eyes warmed, making him appear much friendlier than she’d witnessed this morning. “Sorry for the wait, Miss Kirkland, but my mother won’t allow for polite conversation in her home until we’re washed up. We do have some culture in these parts.”

That news surprised Ann, considering Mrs. Covington wore ranch-hand clothes, the same as Sam. Interesting. But upon meeting her, Ann had instantly liked her.

“Mr. Covington, might we dispense with the formalities? I’d be pleased for you to call me Ann.”

Sam positioned himself across from her on the carved-mahogany sofa, catty-cornered to the Davenport. “Call me Sam then … Ann.”

The way her name sounded on his lips sent a flicker of warmth through her. Ann shifted on the Davenport.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I came all this way when you’ve already rejected my proposal earlier in the day—”

He drew in a breath to once again reject her, she was certain, and she lifted her palm to stop him. “Please allow me to finish.”

After a quick glance back to see Mrs. Covington and Sheriff Daniels caught up in their own conversation, Ann leaned closer. “The sheriff has informed me that it is your desire to start outfitting and guiding big-game hunters or those from the East that come to stay on the dude ranches. I’m not here to hunt, but I promise I can make this worth your while. You see, I work for a magazine in New York City and these photographs will likely grace the pages, and of course, I would acknowledge the man who made this possible. Don’t you see how this could benefit your business goals?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed before he leaned against the sofa back, his hand rubbing his mouth and chin. Was he contemplating her words? Or had she failed to convince him by saying too much? Maybe he didn’t want the kind of notoriety her offer could bring—and Ann didn’t deny she was making promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. It all depended on her father’s reaction, and she felt confident he would be delighted, or else she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble. Then again, maybe she would have. Once she’d envisioned coming to Wyoming, she hadn’t been able to let the idea go.

“I want these photographs to be the most spectacular the magazine, and maybe even the world, has ever seen.” She was all in now, laying out her heart, and this man could very well tromp all over it, just like Tom had. The only difference, Ann wasn’t engaged to Sam Covington.

“Go on,” he said, light flickering in his eyes, encouraging her.

She inched to the edge of the sofa. “I’ve set my goals high, but not unlike other renown women photojournalists of our time. The sheriff, he made it sound like you’ve done some climbing and adventuring, and know your way around the mountains to places that others haven’t been.”

Voices resounded from somewhere behind. Sam’s eyes flicked over her shoulder then back to her. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, giving Ann a sense of urgency that in a few moments she would lose her chance to convince him. Sitting so close, the clean smell of his soap wafted over her.

She drew in a breath to give this one more try in her most persuasive tone, but Sam held up a hand. Ann’s hope died.

“My turn, now.” He flashed her the hint of a smile, all while monitoring the activities behind her. “Let me extend my apology for turning you down earlier. I’m agreeable to your proposal, and I would have made the offer the minute you stepped from the sheriff’s vehicle, had you allowed me. Unfortunately, there is the matter of convincing my father of my new venture. I work for him, too.”

Ann contained the squeal inside. She could hardly believe her good fortune. “You mean you’ll do it? If you can, that is?”

Sam tensed and rose to face whom she presumed must be his father.

“And who have we here?”

Ann turned to see the face belonging to the deep voice and immediately saw Sam’s resemblance to his handsome, much older, silver-haired father.

“This is Miss Kirkland,” Sam said. “Sheriff Daniels brought her out to talk to me.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam’s father, Zeb Covington.” Broad-shouldered and smelling of horses, cows, and hay, the man’s smile deepened. “And this is Sam’s brother, John.”

Another cowboy stepped forward and nodded. He looked more like Sam’s mother. “Howdy.”

“John, I need to have a word with Sam and Miss Kirkland.”

John nodded. “I’ll head on home, then, and check on Lucy and the girls.”

When John was gone, Mr. Covington’s smile dimmed, if only a little. “What business do you have with my son?”

Mrs. Covington sauntered up to her husband and squeezed his arm. “Now, Zeb, you should get cleaned up, too, before you bother this young woman. See to it now.”

He bristled, unwilling to back down. Ann almost felt like she was facing off with her own father. It was clear Sam wouldn’t fare well in this conversation.

“Allow me to dispel your concerns. I’m proposing to hire your son as a guide. I work for
View Magazine
in New York.” She added that tidbit to garner his respect.

Ann held her breath. She understood Sam’s dilemma in working for his father, his need to branch out on his own all too well.

Sam’s father stared him down, sending Ann’s hopes plummeting.

S
am steeled himself for his father’s words, hating that Miss Kirkland … Ann … would hear them, too. And he’d been so close.

Why, Lord? Why did You give me another chance? Why did she come all this way just to have my father shoot me down in front of her?

Sam fisted his hands at his side, reining in his disrespectful attitude. If only his father would respect him as well.

“Go,” his mother said, her tone brooking no argument. She gripped the man’s arms and made to usher him away. “I’ll not have you carrying on with our guest until you’re cleaned up.”

His mother had come to his rescue again. Sam considered that maybe he should stand on his own, but now wasn’t the time or place to face-off with his father about his future, and possibly, the future of the Covington Ranch. Then again, his brother would have his say on top of that.

His father out of the room, his mother returned and smiled. “I’m so glad I put that rule in place when I set up my household.” She turned her attention to Sam. “Now, Son, I hope you’ve already told Miss Kirkland that you agree to her offer.”

“Please, call me Ann.”

“All right, Ann it is.” His mother smiled. “And please call me Belle.”

His mother looked at him, waiting for an answer. “Sam?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to get in a word but failing.

“Good, then that’s settled.” His mother took Ann’s hands between hers. “I’m sorry you had to trouble yourself looking for someone to take on this task. And to make up for any more inconvenience, I insist on having you stay with us for the duration of your business here.”

Ann’s uncertainty was evident on her face. “Oh no, I couldn’t. That would be too much trouble.”

Sam’s heart jumped to his throat. What was his mother doing?

“It’s no trouble at all. I have extra rooms upstairs for guests. This way, you’ll save time in your endeavors. Sam won’t have to go all the way into town.”

But his mother was right in her thinking. The trip to town and back wouldn’t leave much time for guiding if she planned on daily outings.

Ann sagged, clearly torn in her decision. “I … I thank you for the offer. My father was very specific in that he didn’t want me to stay on a … dude ranch.”

His mother’s laughter was musical, bringing harmony. “Then it’s settled. Covington Ranch is nothing more than a cattle ranch.”

Ann’s forehead creased slightly. “But what about Mr. Covington? I had the distinct impression that he wasn’t agreeable to Sam guiding me. Not only that, I’ll need a darkroom, so you see, I couldn’t possibly stay here.”

Sam admired her forthrightness and realized that she was much stronger than he’d given her credit for. He’d made a judgment based solely on her appearance. Looked like his mother had met her match.

“Nonsense,” his mother said. “You’ll have everything you need here. Won’t she, Sam?”

When his mother winked at him, heat rushed up his neck. Good thing the summer had left him suntanned to hide it. He bridled his ridiculous reaction. His mother glanced at the sheriff and ushered Ann to the door, in much the same way that she’d ushered his father out of the room. “Sam will be in town in the morning to pick you up and bring you back to the ranch. I’ll get you settled in, and then you can get on with your business. But I must say, I’m looking forward to having another female in this house for a while. How long do you plan to stay in the valley?”

“A month at least, maybe less, depending on the weather. I can’t afford to get trapped here if it snows.”

His mother chuckled and released her. Ann’s gaze flicked to Sam, a question in her eyes. But what question, he couldn’t know. “I thank you for your generosity,” she said.

Sheriff Daniels followed her across the porch. “I knew I could count on at least one of the Covington’s to take this on.”

The next morning, Sam arrived in town to pick up Ann, with instructions from his mother to see to the woman’s wardrobe for backcountry travel. He’d also make sure Leonard at Jackson Mercantile didn’t sell her the gaudier wear of the drugstore cowboys and dudes around town. Sam couldn’t abide by that. It was the one thing he agreed with his father on.

He parked the truck in front of the Jackson Hotel, thinking on his father’s words to him last night. They’d been so much different from the night before. One day could change everything.

“Your mother’s invited a guest into our home, and I’ll thank you to accommodate her specific needs.”
His father had smiled then, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I can be stubborn at times, Son, I know that. I thank God for the day I married your mother so she can talk sense into me when needed. That said, understand that I’m giving you this chance. Agreed?”

He and his father seemed to contend like his sister and their mother more than a decade earlier. Back then, his father encouraged Emily in her dreams, like running for the city council. Now his mother took up for Sam.

He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, thinking how his father had given him this opportunity, but escorting a woman photographer around the region hadn’t exactly been what he’d hoped for in the way of proving himself. Fear and doubt had eaten away at him all night. He’d understood what his father’s words meant all right.

The man had given Sam this
one
chance.

There was nothing for it. He’d give it all he had. He rounded the parked truck to call for Ann just as she stepped from the hotel, the town buzzing with people and businesses—unlike when he was growing up. But Ann stood out from the crowd. Sam wasn’t sure if Ann stood out to everyone, or just him. He cleared his mind and made his way toward her, feeling a bounce to his steps today he hadn’t felt yesterday.

“Miss Kirkland.” Sam tipped his hat.

“I thought we’d dispensed with the formality, Sam. Remember? Please call me Ann.”

How could he have forgotten? Something about this woman left him with scrambled eggs for brains. “Ann it is.”

Her pretty smile brightened her face even more, and his spirits. “Thank you, Sam. I like that name. It’s a good, strong name.”

He liked the sound of his name coming from Ann. But he wasn’t sure he liked the awkward feeling stirring inside. He wasn’t sure what to say to her compliment.