A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas (8 page)

Belle had her trunk packed; it was all she’d brought with her and all she planned to take when she left. She wished she could unpack her memories and leave those as well.

She stood and faced the house her brother-in-law had built, small, snug, looking as large as a gnat when compared with the Teton Range. Their shelter might have been small, but oh, the view of God’s handiwork made a better backdrop than the finest home she’d ever worked in back East.

And because of Abel Quinn, she couldn’t keep it.

“Hire a lawyer,” the Smythes had suggested. But who could she find? She had no means to do so, and the papers she’d read over and over again told her she had no claim to the property.

She’d said her good-byes to them after selling Patch to Rosemary. Mr. Quinn had no rights to her horse, and judging by the condition of his own mount, she wasn’t sure how he’d treat him. She’d allowed herself a good cry after the Smythes had left with Patch. Now she couldn’t squeeze out another tear if she tried.

“I can’t help but think you’re making a terrible mistake,” Mr. Tolliver said as he loaded her traveling trunk onto the back of the wagon.

“I don’t see what other choice I have.” She shook her head. “I appreciate the trouble of you taking me. If I could wait until after Christmas, I would. But … it will make things all the more difficult, not to mention the weather is good today.”

“What about Zebulon?”

Belle hoisted herself up onto the wagon seat as gracefully as she could. “He told me from the very beginning, ever since losing Melanie and Ham, that I ought to leave. He was right.”

Part of her wanted to stay as long as possible, to have more time with the people she’d grown to care for, the 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 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.”

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 forever, it feels like.” Another wallop came from the little life inside her. Or, not so little anymore.

“I’ll bring the sleigh around. Can’t keep a pregnant lady waiting long, can we, Mrs. Covington?” Zeb winked at her before stepping outside.

She laughed and let the effect of Zeb’s wink wash over her.

Oh yes, she loved being Mrs. Zebulon Covington. She loved it even more when he’d bought out Abel Quinn who was desperate for money, and Zeb titled the claim over to Belle in the springtime. She loved it especially when Zeb held her in his arms and all propriety flew from the room. She loved it when she heard his warm, rich voice as they took turns reading to each other on a cold winter’s night.

The sound of sleigh bells peppered the air, and she went to the window, new paned glass they’d installed. There stood the team, Zeb’s pride and joy, waiting for them. Zeb hopped down from the sleigh and trotted to the house.

Just as he opened the front door, Belle’s water broke.

“Oh, Zeb, it’s time.”

“Time?”

“Get Mary Smythe.” At that, a contraction ripped through her.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” With that he swooped her up into his arms and carried her to the sleigh.

A change of plans, in his arms. Where she always wanted to be.

She knew great pain would come, but as long as Zebulon was beside her, she could face it.

As he gently placed her on the sleigh’s seat, she grabbed his coat sleeve, making him pause.

“Zebulon Covington, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Covington.”

He gave her a swift kiss before they sped off to welcome their baby into the world.