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

her, saying dogs couldn’t smile.
    “But you do smile, don’t you, girl?” Emily rubbed her dog’s head, and Specks, a black, gray, and white female mutt, moved closer for a few pets as well. “Here’s a pet, Specks. You were all very, very
good
dogs tonight.”
    The animals amazed her, how they worked together and followed directions. Always happy, always ready to go. And for the next months, they’d be her primary way to get into the backcountry. They could take her places a horse and sleigh couldn’t go.
    Which was why her presence tonight had likely saved Will’s life. If she and the dogs hadn’t slid into his feeble attempt at a shelter—
    She refused to think about it.
    Did he remember the man someone had found, frozen in the foothills, when they were but children?
    Tonight, rescuing Will had brought the memory back to her. Having the dogs, she’d hoped to save someone. She never imagined it would be Will Adams.
    The remaining few dogs, Felix, Branch, and Maggie, finished the last of the food and set to lapping from a pail of melted snow. Emily licked her lips, realizing she, too, thirsted. She glanced at the pail. Not for her. She could melt her own snow, but why pretend she was taking shelter at a remote cabin with her dogs? The main house lay not fifty yards away, with its warmth, Mother’s homemade stew and soft pretzels, and possibly even a slice of pie, made from berry preserves they’d canned at the end of the summer season.
    Emily’s stomach growled again. “All right, I’m going inside.” She rolled to her knees then stood, brushing straw from her coat and trousers. She might as well get a move on and stop avoiding the inevitable. However, she could plead fatigue, gobble a quick bowl of stew in the kitchen, then scurry away to her room and avoid Will completely.
    She gave the dogs one last longing look, almost wishing for a blanket to bed down on the straw. But a lady didn’t sleep in a corner of the barn with the sled dogs, and especially not during a snowstorm when a perfectly adequate home and a soft bed waited for her.
    The cold bit into her once more as she closed the barn door and made for the house, aiming for the rectangles of light glimmering through the falling snow. Emily pulled her coat tightly around her, climbed the porch steps, and entered the house.
    Warmth, along with the aroma of Mother’s cooking, embraced her as soon as she entered. She headed straight for the bootjack and tugged against it until she removed the boots—another castoff from Sam, another bit of attire Mother tolerated.
    “It’s me. I was taking care of the dogs,” she called out.
    “Supper’s on the stove. There’s plenty,” Mother replied from the parlor. “Mr. Adams is at the table, having supper as well.”
    Ah, so he was. She shouldn’t let her nerves get the better of her, nor her own embarrassment of how she’d treated him earlier. Regardless of how he’d treated her.
    “Thank you, Mother.” She paused in the entryway to the front parlor. She sniffed. In addition to the hearty aroma of stew, another aroma hung in the air.
    She sniffed again and lowered her nose to her sleeve. Sure enough, the aroma was coming from her. Emily shrugged out of her coat and kept on the castoff flannel shirt, this one formerly Pa’s. She wore it over her shirtwaist. Perhaps Mother couldn’t tell the additional smell came from Emily.
    “You may wish to bathe this evening, my dear.” Mother gazed over the top of her reading glasses at Emily.
    “Yes, ma’am. But after supper, though. I’m very hungry after all those hours outdoors.”
    “There should be coffee on the stove, too.”
    “Thank you, Mother.” Emily nodded at Mother and walked on socked feet to the kitchen. Will Adams sat at the table, taking his time on a bowl of stew.
    He glanced up at her when she entered, rising slightly as she did so. “Miss Covington.”
    She inclined her head toward him slightly. “Mr. Adams.”
    He took his seat