Free A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas by Elizabeth Goddard and Lynette Sowell Page B

look at the body? I’ve never seen a frozen person before.”
    The wagon had rolled past, with a tarp covering the frozen corpse.
    He had glanced at Emily, who looked prim and proper as her mother from hat to boots, save for some strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, and a sparkle in her blue eyes. Her eyes reminded him of the sky above the Teton Range. He’d never seen a blue like that in all his years back East.
    Those same blue eyes crackled tonight when she spoke to him.
    He should have known better than to remark about the “short blue-eyed musher fellow” who’d nearly plowed over him when pausing under the tree, where Will had taken cover behind a makeshift windbreak. He hadn’t intended to sound irritated when the sled nearly ran over him. He should have sounded more grateful.
    All these thoughts tumbled through his head while he fought to remain conscious. Or he could succumb to the weariness, the exhaustion borne of being out in the elements for hours. He’d already lost enough face in front of everyone.
    Another stray thought jolted him awake.
    The election. With him considering a run for city council come spring, what would the locals say about him being so foolish? He had a few of the men backing him, hoping his good sense would help steer the town of Jackson into the twenties.
    No worries, though. He’d heard a rumor that some of the women were discussing the idea of running for office—he had nothing against women running for office—but the local men might shy away from voting for a woman instead of someone like him.
    Their pace slowed, and Will found himself able to roll over on one side to see if they’d arrived in town. No, not town. A ranch, and he couldn’t quite make out the signage. It was somewhere warm, and that was all that mattered. He sank back onto the sleigh. Soon he’d have something hot to drink and hopefully sit by a roaring fire.
    Oh, Lord, surely You’ve preserved my life tonight. Thank You…
    He listened to the wind, whipping in a gust now, the creak of harness and the whoosh of runners on snow, and Sven Olsen murmuring to his team in Swedish.
    At last they pulled up before a home with light spilling onto the snow. Shouts, banging doors.
    “You found him, then?” a female voice asked—not Emily’s.
    The sound of barking and bells nearly drowned out the woman’s voice.
    “Emily did, just in time. If she’d arrived moments later, he might be dead.”
    “All right, Mr. Adams. See if you can sit up.” Sven stood beside the flatbed sleigh. Will braced himself, trying to put his numb legs over the side.
    “I can manage.” He glanced from Sven to the older woman, about his mother’s age, her dark hair streaked with silver, her blue eyes narrowed. He’d seen that expression before. This had to be Emily’s mother.
    “Let’s get you inside. I’ve stoked the fire, and we’ve kept back some supper for you.” The woman tugged on his elbow, her shawl slipping off one shoulder. “Can you walk?”
    “I can.” As soon as he stood, his legs turned to the consistency of breakfast mush, but he fought against gravity. He’d had enough humiliation for one evening.
    “Watch your step.” Sven nodded while Mrs. Covington stepped aside to let him enter.
    “Ah, there goes Emily.” She shook her head. “She’ll be seeing to those dogs before she even enters the house.”
    Which suited Will fine, for now. “I’m much obliged, Mrs. Covington, for you and Mr. Covington allowing me to stop.”
    “You are most welcome, Mr. Adams.” She turned her focus outside. “Thank you, Mr. Olsen.”
    Will realized he hadn’t adequately thanked Sven for his help, nor had he thanked Emily or any of the others who’d gone out searching for him that evening.
    “What … what time is it?” He scanned the walls, one of which sported several mounted elk heads, for a clock.
    “Nearly eight,” said Mrs. Covington. “Now we’ll give you some privacy. I’ve brought some of my