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

husband’s clothes, and I have coffee on the stove. You change, and I’ll be back in a few moments with your supper. You’re not going anywhere this evening. My husband is in the study and will be out shortly.”
    A pair of trousers and a flannel shirt were shoved into his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She turned on her heel with a swish of skirts, and marched from the parlor.
    Well, if he was going to jump into Mr. Covington’s clothes, he ought to get a move on before someone came waltzing in. No sooner had Will removed his outercoat, along with his hat and muffler, and dumped them on the hearth, than a young man clomped into the parlor. Sam Covington.
    “You’re the one they went off to search for today.” Sam strode over to the nearest wing-backed chair and plopped onto the cushion.
    “Yes, that was me.” He tried not to shiver, now that he’d dumped off his coat, and picked up the clothes Mrs. Covington had offered him.
    “You don’t look like an idiot greenhorn to me.” Sam crossed one leg over the other and rested his elbow on the armrest, using his hand as a convenient chin prop. “Not a greenhorn, anyway.”
    “So I look like an idiot?”
    “Not my words. That would be my sister’s. You’re the lawyer from back East.” Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock gonged the hour.
    “Yes. My father was William Adams. Died back in ‘01.” After that his mother had sold off quick as anything and bustled him back East.
    “So why’d you come back here? I’ve seen ya at church meetings but never got the chance to ask.”
    “It’s the mountains. I always remembered them. Too much going on in the city. Too much noise. And I want to make sure the good people here are served legally in the way they ought to be, by someone with real credentials.”
    “You know you’re in for a campaign, running against my sister.”
    “I know. She’s always been quite the, ah, character.” Another flashback to her impishly saying she’d never seen a frozen body before. What kind of a girl asked questions like that?
    But he reminded himself that Emily Covington wasn’t a girl anymore. Under all those layers and manly garb, she was most definitely a woman.

Chapter 2
    S omeone, probably Pa, had left food scraps out for the dogs, who dashed straight for their feeder as soon as Emily removed their harnesses. She sank onto the nearby pile of straw and watched Niki, her lead dog, nudge Felix out of the way. No matter that he outweighed her by a good ten pounds. All the dogs knew Niki ate first, just as she broke the snow first along the trails.
    Emily’s stomach grumbled, but she didn’t move to head for the house. Not quite yet. How long would Billy—or Will—Adams be there? She suspected he’d be fed a hot meal, and if Mother didn’t have a bath drawn for the man (which likely wouldn’t be entirely proper), she’d at least offer him dry clothing.
    Her own ire at Billy’s earlier treatment of her waned. She glanced down at her trousers, formerly owned by Sam, who’d shot up in height and had left them behind several inches ago. Mother had long ago become resigned to the fact that Emily wore trousers around the ranch, and even to town on occasion.
    The finishing school, once her mother’s dream, had dwindled to a mere trio of young women who visited the ranch two Saturdays each month, where Mother schooled them in diction, manners, and how a respectable young lady ought to carry herself in society, at dinner parties, and other occasions.
    Oh yes, Emily knew exactly what to do if she found herself at a formal social event. However, she didn’t see the need to fuss quite so much in everyday life.
    She couldn’t picture herself being able to mush the dogs tonight if she had skirts and such to get in the way.
    Niki, finished with her meal, ambled across the sheltered end of the barn and flopped beside Emily on the straw. Her tongue hanging out, her eyes brightened as if she smiled at Emily. Sam liked to tease