Read Online A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas by Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell
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Smythes, the Olsens, and Zebulon. Especially Zebulon. But she couldn’t ask anyone to put her up. No one had room.
Mr. Tolliver said nothing more but chirruped to the team, who stepped out, pulling them on the snow.
Finally, he spoke. “We’ll make good time today. You should make it in time to the station to buy a ticket to head out on the next train. Any idea where you’re going?”
“St. Louis.” If she could find her old friend Sadie, or the mission where she worked, perhaps they could put her up for a night or two, or even until she found live-in work.
They glided along in silence, with Belle taking in the sights around her. The sun on snow, the brisk air. The blue sky with the mountains reaching higher than anything around them.
The very idea of being in the city made her throat catch. Stifling, so many people around.
Belle allowed herself a glance back at the tiny house.
Mr. Tolliver caught her glance. “Don’t worry. The Smythes will head over straightway for the household items, and sell what they can for you. Quinn might think he has the property, but it doesn’t mean everything it contains.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t have any fight left inside her. The very memory of that horrid man and his outrageous marriage proposal made her skin crawl.
“I sure do appreciate you giving an old man some work. I’ll tell you this much: I’m not helping Abel Quinn with that land. He’ll get no favors from me.”
“Mr. Tolliver, you helped me immeasurably, and for that I’ll always be thankful.” Her throat caught. The wagon jostled as they headed toward the pass, to Idaho, and to the train where she’d leave it all behind.
“We’ll miss you, girlie.” His beard trembled and his breath made puffs in the frosty air.
Silence reigned again, until Mr. Tolliver started singing hymns in his gravelly voice.
Dear Lord, there must be some other way
.
After a sleepless night filled with tossing and turning, Zebulon hitched the mules to the sleigh. He knew what he had to do; he only prayed he was in time. Gathering clouds to the west told him snow was coming. Not sure when, or how much, but Gus Tolliver had to be crazy to be taking Belle across the pass, no matter what she was paying him.
The mules pulled the sleigh along with their typical resolute plod. One day he wanted to have some fine horses to use for traveling. In the meantime, the mules were cheaper, sturdier—and slower.
No matter how much he chirruped and urged them to speed along, they merely pinned their ears back and continued the same plod-plod-plod along the trail to the pass.
The wind picked up, and Zeb pulled his coat collar more tightly around his neck. He had to reach them, had to.
After an hour of plodding, Zeb thought the sky looked as though it had dropped below the mountaintop, and the snow fell, a dainty white snowfall. But he knew that could change within minutes, and the weather wasn’t fit for anyone to be outside, let alone heading over the pass.
He caught sight of a wagon ahead, coming toward him.
Gus Tolliver with a passenger.
The old man pulled his team to a halt as Zeb approached.
“How-do, Mr. Covington.”
“I’d be doing better if I was somewhere warmer.” He spoke to Gus but kept his focus on Belle, who’d bolted up straight on the seat beside Gus.
“Zebulon.” She appeared as though she were ready to leap from the wagon but clutched the seat.
“I found you in time.”
“We decided to turn back; a bit of weather’s coming in.” As Gus spoke, the snowfall intensified.
“Good. Because … because I’m here to give Miss Murray a ride back to Jackson … to her home.”
“I don’t have a home in Jackson anymore.” She looked down at her lap, her shoulders now drooping.
Zeb hopped down from the sleigh and strode in their direction. He stopped at the side of the wagon.
“Yes. You do. Come, ride with me in my sleigh.” He glanced at Gus. “Mr. Tolliver, I’ll take things from
Mr. Tolliver said nothing more but chirruped to the team, who stepped out, pulling them on the snow.
Finally, he spoke. “We’ll make good time today. You should make it in time to the station to buy a ticket to head out on the next train. Any idea where you’re going?”
“St. Louis.” If she could find her old friend Sadie, or the mission where she worked, perhaps they could put her up for a night or two, or even until she found live-in work.
They glided along in silence, with Belle taking in the sights around her. The sun on snow, the brisk air. The blue sky with the mountains reaching higher than anything around them.
The very idea of being in the city made her throat catch. Stifling, so many people around.
Belle allowed herself a glance back at the tiny house.
Mr. Tolliver caught her glance. “Don’t worry. The Smythes will head over straightway for the household items, and sell what they can for you. Quinn might think he has the property, but it doesn’t mean everything it contains.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t have any fight left inside her. The very memory of that horrid man and his outrageous marriage proposal made her skin crawl.
“I sure do appreciate you giving an old man some work. I’ll tell you this much: I’m not helping Abel Quinn with that land. He’ll get no favors from me.”
“Mr. Tolliver, you helped me immeasurably, and for that I’ll always be thankful.” Her throat caught. The wagon jostled as they headed toward the pass, to Idaho, and to the train where she’d leave it all behind.
“We’ll miss you, girlie.” His beard trembled and his breath made puffs in the frosty air.
Silence reigned again, until Mr. Tolliver started singing hymns in his gravelly voice.
Dear Lord, there must be some other way
.
After a sleepless night filled with tossing and turning, Zebulon hitched the mules to the sleigh. He knew what he had to do; he only prayed he was in time. Gathering clouds to the west told him snow was coming. Not sure when, or how much, but Gus Tolliver had to be crazy to be taking Belle across the pass, no matter what she was paying him.
The mules pulled the sleigh along with their typical resolute plod. One day he wanted to have some fine horses to use for traveling. In the meantime, the mules were cheaper, sturdier—and slower.
No matter how much he chirruped and urged them to speed along, they merely pinned their ears back and continued the same plod-plod-plod along the trail to the pass.
The wind picked up, and Zeb pulled his coat collar more tightly around his neck. He had to reach them, had to.
After an hour of plodding, Zeb thought the sky looked as though it had dropped below the mountaintop, and the snow fell, a dainty white snowfall. But he knew that could change within minutes, and the weather wasn’t fit for anyone to be outside, let alone heading over the pass.
He caught sight of a wagon ahead, coming toward him.
Gus Tolliver with a passenger.
The old man pulled his team to a halt as Zeb approached.
“How-do, Mr. Covington.”
“I’d be doing better if I was somewhere warmer.” He spoke to Gus but kept his focus on Belle, who’d bolted up straight on the seat beside Gus.
“Zebulon.” She appeared as though she were ready to leap from the wagon but clutched the seat.
“I found you in time.”
“We decided to turn back; a bit of weather’s coming in.” As Gus spoke, the snowfall intensified.
“Good. Because … because I’m here to give Miss Murray a ride back to Jackson … to her home.”
“I don’t have a home in Jackson anymore.” She looked down at her lap, her shoulders now drooping.
Zeb hopped down from the sleigh and strode in their direction. He stopped at the side of the wagon.
“Yes. You do. Come, ride with me in my sleigh.” He glanced at Gus. “Mr. Tolliver, I’ll take things from
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