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 B
Authors: Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell
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here.”
The cold pulled at Belle with icy fingers as she and Zebulon headed back to Jackson, her traveling trunk strapped to the back of the sleigh.
But she was warm and snug beneath the fur robe he’d covered her with, and her shivering soon stopped. That and she let herself sit closer to Zebulon on the cushioned seat, closer than a lady ought to sit beside a man who wasn’t her husband.
Zebulon didn’t seem to mind, not one bit. And a warmth suffused through her, down to her toes.
“What do you mean, I still have a home in Jackson?”
“I … I was wrong, Belle. Flat out wrong in telling you all those times you should leave while you could.” She could feel the rumble from his voice in her side as he spoke above the sound of the wind. “Everyone starts somewhere. You might be green, but you’re not stupid.”
She wanted to thank him for that observation, but she had a more pressing problem. “But, Zeb, I have nowhere to go. I can’t live with the Smythes, I can’t afford—”
“Miss Murray, I have a solution, if you’re willing. But I must do this right.”
Do what right?
“What do you think of my sleigh?”
“It’s … it’s beautiful.” She touched the carved front panel, covered with elegant scrollwork. The sleigh wasn’t just for hauling things and doing inglorious work. It was meant for joyful times, for a couple riding together on a romantic winter outing. A labor of love.
“Well, I decided awhile back, I wanted the woman I love to be the first to ride in this sleigh with me.”
Love? The woman he loved?
“Oh, Zebulon.” He loved her. Yes, he’d stolen that kiss. Had anyone else tried such a thing, she’d have probably slapped the man. If he’d tried such a thing months ago, she’d have probably slapped him, too.
However, now she’d had time to see him and know him, and see what high regard people like the Smythes, the Olsens, and Mr. Tolliver thought of Zebulon Covington.
The sleigh had carried them closer, and the trip back to Jackson seemed as though it passed more quickly. Maybe because it was downhill, but the trip also carried her closer to her heart.
Zebulon pulled the team to a halt on a lovely portion of the trail. She could almost glimpse a few of the claims, spread out in the valley.
“Miss Belle Murray, I don’t want you to leave. You can’t. You won’t. I … I love you. But if you stay in Jackson, your home must be with me. Always.”
With him? She turned on the seat to face him.
He took both her hands in his. “I would get down on one knee. I would ask your father, were he around, before I spoke to you. Miss Belle Murray, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Not just for you to stay here in Jackson, but because I want you to stay. I said I didn’t need a wife. But I want a wife, and I want her to be you.”
She’d thought he was a confirmed bachelor, liking his solitude. Now he was preparing to give it up—for her?
She felt herself nodding. “Yes, yes, Zebulon Covington, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife. But … how soon? I have nowhere to stay.”
“The Smythes said they will let you bunk with Rosemary until the preacher arrives tomorrow.”
“On Christmas Eve? Tomorrow?”
“Yes. The preacher thought he might make it from Flat Creek in time for the service, and with the weather coming in, he’s not going to leave the area until after Christmas. So, yes, a Christmas Eve wedding.”
But it made perfect sense.
Absolutely perfect sense.
“All right, Mr. Covington.” She smiled at him. “We’ll get married tomorrow.”
Epilogue
One year later
H urry, we’re going to be late.” Belle tried to pull her coat around her middle, but the toggles had quit meeting up a good month or so ago. She’d already cleaned the cabin, top to bottom, and a wonderful feast would await them upon returning from the church service.
“I know why you’re in a hurry. Rosemary’s home from college.”
“Yes, I haven’t seen her in
The cold pulled at Belle with icy fingers as she and Zebulon headed back to Jackson, her traveling trunk strapped to the back of the sleigh.
But she was warm and snug beneath the fur robe he’d covered her with, and her shivering soon stopped. That and she let herself sit closer to Zebulon on the cushioned seat, closer than a lady ought to sit beside a man who wasn’t her husband.
Zebulon didn’t seem to mind, not one bit. And a warmth suffused through her, down to her toes.
“What do you mean, I still have a home in Jackson?”
“I … I was wrong, Belle. Flat out wrong in telling you all those times you should leave while you could.” She could feel the rumble from his voice in her side as he spoke above the sound of the wind. “Everyone starts somewhere. You might be green, but you’re not stupid.”
She wanted to thank him for that observation, but she had a more pressing problem. “But, Zeb, I have nowhere to go. I can’t live with the Smythes, I can’t afford—”
“Miss Murray, I have a solution, if you’re willing. But I must do this right.”
Do what right?
“What do you think of my sleigh?”
“It’s … it’s beautiful.” She touched the carved front panel, covered with elegant scrollwork. The sleigh wasn’t just for hauling things and doing inglorious work. It was meant for joyful times, for a couple riding together on a romantic winter outing. A labor of love.
“Well, I decided awhile back, I wanted the woman I love to be the first to ride in this sleigh with me.”
Love? The woman he loved?
“Oh, Zebulon.” He loved her. Yes, he’d stolen that kiss. Had anyone else tried such a thing, she’d have probably slapped the man. If he’d tried such a thing months ago, she’d have probably slapped him, too.
However, now she’d had time to see him and know him, and see what high regard people like the Smythes, the Olsens, and Mr. Tolliver thought of Zebulon Covington.
The sleigh had carried them closer, and the trip back to Jackson seemed as though it passed more quickly. Maybe because it was downhill, but the trip also carried her closer to her heart.
Zebulon pulled the team to a halt on a lovely portion of the trail. She could almost glimpse a few of the claims, spread out in the valley.
“Miss Belle Murray, I don’t want you to leave. You can’t. You won’t. I … I love you. But if you stay in Jackson, your home must be with me. Always.”
With him? She turned on the seat to face him.
He took both her hands in his. “I would get down on one knee. I would ask your father, were he around, before I spoke to you. Miss Belle Murray, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Not just for you to stay here in Jackson, but because I want you to stay. I said I didn’t need a wife. But I want a wife, and I want her to be you.”
She’d thought he was a confirmed bachelor, liking his solitude. Now he was preparing to give it up—for her?
She felt herself nodding. “Yes, yes, Zebulon Covington, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife. But … how soon? I have nowhere to stay.”
“The Smythes said they will let you bunk with Rosemary until the preacher arrives tomorrow.”
“On Christmas Eve? Tomorrow?”
“Yes. The preacher thought he might make it from Flat Creek in time for the service, and with the weather coming in, he’s not going to leave the area until after Christmas. So, yes, a Christmas Eve wedding.”
But it made perfect sense.
Absolutely perfect sense.
“All right, Mr. Covington.” She smiled at him. “We’ll get married tomorrow.”
Epilogue
One year later
H urry, we’re going to be late.” Belle tried to pull her coat around her middle, but the toggles had quit meeting up a good month or so ago. She’d already cleaned the cabin, top to bottom, and a wonderful feast would await them upon returning from the church service.
“I know why you’re in a hurry. Rosemary’s home from college.”
“Yes, I haven’t seen her in
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