A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas (25 page)

“Can you get on your horse?” she asked.

Sam was stiff and sore like he’d never been before, even when he’d been thrown, trying to break horses. The two ranch hands tried to assist him to his feet, but blackness edged his vision. They decided it would be best to fashion a travois for him.

Oh boy. It was going to be a long ride down the mountain.

Sam woke the next morning, exhaustion from his battle with the bear and his own horse clinging to him. His mouth dry, he was glad when his door creaked and his mother stepped in, bringing a tray of breakfast food.

When he tried to sit up, the splint on his broken leg reminded him of the doctor’s work and his restless sleep. How was he supposed to guide the hunters now? His future seemed completely out of reach. Over. His life would have been, too, if not for Ann.

“You need to eat, Son. Eat and rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ann,” he whispered, not recognizing his voice. “She saved my life. I want to thank her.”

Something shifted behind his mother’s eyes, striking fear in his heart.

“What is it? Did something hap—”

She shook her head and moved to the window, opening the curtains. “Her father arrived yesterday. Sheriff Daniels brought him out.”

“She’s … gone?”

His mother turned to face him. “She didn’t want to leave. Not without saying good-bye. But her father had already arranged for travel. He insisted. She wanted him to see her photographs, but he wouldn’t even look.”

Sam sat up despite the pain. “What are you saying? She left them?”

“Most of them, yes. I snuck a few into her luggage when I helped her pack. Oh, Sam, I was sorry to see that girl go.”

Not nearly as sorry as Sam.

More than two months had passed. Ann had no idea how Sam would react to seeing her, especially since it was Christmas Eve. His family already had their own plans, she was sure, but she was fortunate to have persuaded Daddy to her way of thinking. Fortunate to have made it back to Jackson, at all. Before Sam forgot about her. She hoped she wasn’t already too late.

Daddy still owned the magazine but had turned management over to someone else, so he could spend more time with his new bride. Plus Ann knew he wanted to escape the depressing atmosphere in New York, especially after the stock market crashed in October, which had spurred his early return from his honeymoon.

She’d convinced Daddy and Marilyn to visit Jackson to see the last of the Wild West for themselves in the winter. She’d shown him a few of the photographs she’d been able to bring back, that is, after his anger abated. Finally, Daddy’s eyes had lit up.

For her.

For her photographs of Grand Teton National Park. He agreed she should take photographs of what had to be a winter wonderland. They’d traveled over the pass just fine.

Even if he hadn’t agreed, Ann knew she would have found her way back here. Back to Sam. Her photographs had created memories of her with Sam. She longed to see him again.

Packed snow crunched beneath her boots as she strolled around the Covington home, taking in trees and mountains painted in white, while she waited on Sam and his brother to return from delivering gifts to a neighbor. Sheriff Daniels had been kind enough to bring Ann to the ranch before he headed home himself to spend Christmas Eve with his own family, so she’d need a ride back to town where Daddy and Marilyn stayed at the Jackson Hotel. Ann’s sister stayed behind in New York to spend Christmas with friends.

At first, Sam’s mother had been stunned to see Ann. But her surprise quickly turned to genuine delight. Ann had always liked the woman and took a measure of relief at hearing Belle say that Sam would be pleased to see Ann.

Anticipation danced in her stomach. She was glad the roads over the pass had been clear enough to travel, or else—

“Ann?”

She whirled to see Sam hiking toward her, and favoring his left leg. Ann smiled and rushed to him. He gripped her shoulders and looked her over.

“Is it really you?” He ran his hands over her hair and face.

“Yes, Sam. I’ve come back to see Jackson in the winter. If you’re available, maybe you can be my guide.”

His brows flinched. “Is that the only reason you came back?”

“I love you, Ann.”
She hadn’t forgotten those words. But had he meant them? He hadn’t written to her since she’d left. She’d written only to crumple the letters and throw them out. She hadn’t known what to say, where to start. If there was any hope of her return. Once she knew she would return to Jackson, she decided on surprising Sam.

“No,” she said, wishing he would inch closer and kiss her. Hoping she hadn’t lost him already. “That’s not the only reason.”

Sam’s vivid blue eyes searched hers, a smile edging back into his lips. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

Holding her hand, he led her through the snow toward the barn. “Wait here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

He opened up the barn doors and disappeared. Ann saw Belle watching from the window. She waved.

A ruckus drew Ann’s attention back to the barn where Sam finally exited, riding in a sleigh pulled along by two beautiful horses with bells on their tack, jingling. Bearing a huge smile, Sam maneuvered carefully from the sleigh.

“Want to go for a ride?” He assisted Ann into the sleigh and covered her with a blanket.

Sam climbed onto the sleigh and sat next to her. “My father made this. When he first came to the valley. Proposed in it, too.”

Her heart leapt at the words.

Wrapped in a blanket, all cozy next to Sam, Ann couldn’t remember ever feeling more content. Just over a rise, he slowed the horses, the Covington Ranch spread before them.

Ann sighed. “It is, indeed, a winter wonderland.”

He shifted toward her. “I never got to thank you properly for what you did for me that day. I wanted to save you, but you saved me instead.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Are you sure?” Sam tilted her chin up and kissed her softly then whispered, “Thank you, Ann.”

When she responded, he turned to face her completely and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her thoroughly.

Ann felt a little dizzy when he ended the kiss. Dizzy and happy.

“I didn’t mean to startle you with that, but I had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”
I love you, Ann
.

“Don’t you know?” A sparkle flickered in his gaze.

Ann could no longer stand it. “That you love me?”

Sam gave a subtle nod. Ann knew he wanted to hear it from her. “Your words stayed with me all the way to New York. They never left me. Sam, your words brought me back. I … love you, too.”

Sam cupped her cheeks, taking in her face as if he were afraid he might forget what she looked like. “You once told me it could never work between us. I won’t lie to you and pretend to think that I could live in the city.”

“You wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with if you could.” Snow swirled like a vortex around them, landing on Ann’s face and eyelashes. But she’d never felt warmer.

“Ann?” Love mingled with terror in his eyes. “Do you think you could tolerate this cold, harsh environment, beautiful as it is, to become my bride? I promise you can take all the pictures you want. I’m not sure what, if anything, I have to offer you, at least yet. And—”

Ann grabbed Sam and kissed him, shutting off his excuses. Tears burned behind her eyes. “Yes, oh yes, Sam. You’re all I want—together we’ll make beautiful memories.”

by Elizabeth Goddard

Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Present Day

H
ayley Covington drove her Ford Explorer past the antler arches that marked off the town square, where a couple posed for pictures in front of Jackson, Wyoming’s, iconic symbols. Downtown Jackson resembled a town from the Old West, and folks liked that, but Hayley had grown up in the valley and the western-styled architecture seemed ordinary enough to her.

On occasion she and her two sisters, Kate and Sarah, would drive to Salt Lake to do major shopping, even after her sisters had married and moved away from Jackson, but the town had everything else Hayley needed, if not everything she wanted. Jackson was home to numerous art galleries, movie stars, the rich and famous, and plenty of folks whose family had been in the valley from the beginning—like hers.

Hayley slowed for a horse-drawn stagecoach carting tourists down a dirty snow-slushed street. Waiting for the coach to move on, she caught site of the Veronica James Art Gallery, and envy rose, burning her throat. Veronica had become so popular that people even commissioned her to create for them. Hayley should have grown accustomed to various artists breaking out with their very own studios by now. The closer she came to her dream, the more she wanted it, and yet, the further away it seemed.

Crazy. It was all crazy thinking. Daddy let her dabble with her pottery, but she was the last of three daughters he’d wished were sons. He had her life mapped out already. For generations, Covington heirs ran the Covington cattle ranch—pure and unadulterated—just like Hayley’s grandfather, John, and great-grandfather, Zeb, would have wanted. No dude ranching for Hart Covington, or kowtowing to cowboy wannabes. Hayley’s great-uncle Sam had started a dude ranch decades ago over in Cody, where that branch of the family also ran Covington Outfitters.

As for the ranch in Jackson Hole, Hayley’s sisters had both gotten married and escaped that life, leaving Hayley alone with Daddy. Of course, Daddy employed a full-time manager and ranch hands to do the day-to-day work, but a Covington must always hold the reins.

Daddy never treated Hayley like he wished she were a son, though she knew he did, and Hayley was all he had left. At twenty-four, she was the only one to stay behind to run the ranch, making her the last heir, as it were, which put tremendous pressure on her. She couldn’t be the weak link in the ranch’s legacy, and yet she wanted so much more. But even though she had dreams, she wouldn’t let her father down.

When the stagecoach finally maneuvered out of her way, Hayley turned between the western-styled buildings of the local cowboy bar and the Blue Mountain Art Gallery. Her palms grew moist as she got out and walked to the back of the vehicle to open the hatch.

Jim Taylor, who owned and managed the art gallery, had offered to display her work three years ago, but Hayley had been terrified. She’d actually been afraid that she’d fail. Since then she’d worked to perfect her art even more, but she was never satisfied. Then Jim stopped by the ranch a couple of months ago and surprised her, coming to her private art studio. She was in the middle of throwing, had clay all over her hands and clothes.

He’d practically dared her to let him feature her pieces. So he’d taken three, and they’d sold within the week. Hayley continued to produce new pieces using her signature sgraffito—a technique where she applied two different layers of slip then scratched designs, mostly scenery, into the clay. Jim was plenty pleased with himself for discovering what he termed a “new” local artist.

She’d yet to tell Daddy she’d found a little success, but he’d hear about it sooner rather than later. She dreaded that moment. Hayley lifted a carefully packed box containing her newly fired vase with the Tetons carved into it.

Her designs were a hit, Jim had said, with the tourists coming through who purchased fine art for a memento or an investment, depending on the artist. She tugged the box from the back of the Explorer and tried the side door of the gallery. Locked, of course. Hayley positioned the box against her hip and rapped on the door.

Finally, a guy peeked out. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to deliver some more pottery,” she said. “Is Jim around?”

He opened the door and shrugged, his Nordic turtleneck sweater accenting his strong clean-shaven jaw, especially when he smiled. His hair was wavy and brown like his eyes, and grew past his ears, scratching the edge of the turtleneck.

“Oh well,” she said. “I’ll set these in the back and he can figure out where to display them.” Hayley walked through the door and peered behind her at the guy. “There’s more in the back of my Explorer, if you want to help.”