Read A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas for Free Online Page A

the Olsens following by sleigh, arrived at the claim.
    Belle went out to meet them. “Oh, a sleigh! How beautiful.”
    “Yah.” Ivana nodded. “Sven finished it in time.” She climbed down from the sleigh then pulled her small daughter off the seat.
    “Good afternoon.” Sven Olsen shook her hand. The tall blond man had few words but radiated love for his small family.
    “Are you ready?” Zebulon dismounted from his mule and unstrapped the skis from the saddle.
    “I suppose I am.”
    “We skied quite often back home.” Ivana adjusted Tilde’s earmuffs. “This will be Tilde’s first time skiing, now that she’s old enough. I expect she will fall often.”
    “It’s my first time, too, so I will likely be falling right alongside her.” Belle smiled at the petite toddler with blond curls, a round face with a peaches-and-cream complexion.
    Sven and Zebulon stood near the Olsens’ sleigh, talking and pointing at its rails.
    Zebulon crouched lower, examining something on the runners. He straightened to stand upright, his eyes bemused.
    “I’ve been building my own sleigh,” he explained. “I’d hoped to have it finished sooner, because it’ll make hauling things a lot easier in the winter.”
    “Not to mention we can all go on sleigh rides on fine Sundays like today,” Ivana said. “Here, Tilde. Let us put some skis on you.” She continued in Swedish, pointing toward the sleigh. The little child complied, chattering away in her family’s language.
    The two of them stepped back as Sven drove the sleigh to a shelter beside the barn. He tied their horse to one of the hitching posts nearby.
    “Here, I’ll help you with your skis first.” Zebulon held a pair of straight, narrow slats of wood, with the front ends slightly curved to form makeshift skis.
    “Did you make these yourself?” She studied the curious-looking devices. She’d seen skis before but nothing made like these.
    “I did. Now, step over here.” He gestured a few paces away from where Ivana stood with Tilde.
    Belle followed him to a cleared but snowy expanse of the ranch yard. He knelt before her, much as he’d done when helping her with her snowshoes. His large roughened hands strapped the skis, his touch gentle, yet firm, as he tied the straps. Her foot, now firmly buckled into the ski, began to slide as she lifted her other foot.
    “Whoa.” He grabbed her calf while she simultaneously gripped his shoulder. “Hold on, you can’t go anywhere just yet.”
    Belle had no doubt he’d catch her if she did lose her balance but fought to keep her footing. Surely, she could ski and still keep some sense of dignity. But she’d never had a man grab her leg like that before. Most improper, yet unavoidable. Clearly, it was harder for a lady to stay proper in the West, not out of lack of regard for propriety, but out of necessity. She’d much rather have Zebulon touch her leg than she end up breaking a bone or her dignity by falling.
    While the Olsens worked with their little one to cover some distance on the snowy ground, Zebulon worked with Belle.
    “Aren’t you going to put your skis on also?” she asked.
    “Not yet. I want to make sure you get your footing first. All right, you’ll need to bend your knees. Slightly; don’t squat.”
    No, she wasn’t about to squat. She did bend her knees a little. “Like this?”
    “Yes. Now push off with the poles.” He’d handed her a pair of poles, crafted from slim yet strong branches, to help her balance and steer. “Don’t tighten your knees. Keep them loose.”
    How he had an inkling that her knees had stiffened underneath all her skirts and long johns, she had no idea.
    Belle began to slide, the skis providing support for her. Yes, she could do this. She tried to keep the tips of the skis from touching, but her toes wanted to turn in. She kept going, gliding past the Olsens. Ivana scooped their little one from the ground. She’d slipped and fallen on her first try and sat on the