Page 28 of Christmas at the Ranch
Samantha and Roger used to talk about where they might go on a honeymoon. Samantha dreamed of visiting Tuscany and Roger wanted to ride in a gondola in Venice. Samantha teased him that he was a hopeless romantic. It was only when she scrolled through her Instagram that she noticed a partner at Roger’s law firm posing in a gondola on the Grand Canal. Roger probably chose Venice so he could talk about it at the office.
Emily had been so good to Samantha. Emily chose the clothes to bring to Jackson Hole, and her parents were taking care of Socks over Christmas.
“I want Emily to have the perfect honeymoon,” Samantha said. “I’ll do whatever I need to keep book sales going.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Charlie replied cheerfully. “Just keep joining all the activities and making Arthur happy.”
Samantha said goodbye and turned her attention to the bookshelf. Nothing would make her feel better than losing herself in the pages of a good book.
She pulled out a Vince Flynn thriller. The book next to it tipped over and she picked it up. It had a Japanese silk cover and was some kind of journal. She was about to put it back when she heard footsteps.
“Drew.” She turned around. “I thought everyone was at breakfast.”
“I already ate, I wanted to talk to you,” Drew said, stepping off the staircase.
“Talk to me?” Samantha repeated, feeling slightly guilty. Arthur probably expected her to be at breakfast. But the thought of sitting across from Beatrix in one of her chic European parkas and hearing her talk about night skiing in Breuil-Cervinia, Italy, before Samantha even had her morning coffee was too much to bear.
“I wanted to thank you. I had a talk with Beatrix this morning,” Drew said, sitting on an armchair. “It’s because of something you said.”
“Something I said?” Samantha racked her brain for anything she said about Drew and Beatrix.
“That Lady Chatterley gave up her grand estate to be with the gamekeeper,” he continued. “When you’re in love, you do anything for each other. An ultimatum is no way to solve things. Beatrix and I have to decide our future together.”
“What about your father?” Samantha inquired. “He’s counting on you to work with him and take over his position one day.”
“My father could wait a few more years,” Drew said pensively. “What’s important is that Beatrix and I share the same goals. I want Beatrix to be happy more than anything, but she has to feel the same about me.”
Drew looked so serious. His eyes seemed a darker blue, and his forehead knotted together.
“What did Beatrix say?” she asked.
“She didn’t get a chance to say anything—my father knocked on the door and interrupted us,” Drew sighed. “He didn’t want us tomiss Martha’s maple pancakes.” He knotted his hands. “We’re going to discuss it after we all go dogsledding,”
“Dogsledding?” Samantha repeated, an uneasy feeling gripping her chest.
“Dogsledding is very popular in Jackson Hole. The guests have the opportunity to drive their own sled.” Drew smiled. “Don’t worry, the guide teaches us basic commands and the dogs are well trained. They’re usually Samoyeds or Siberian Huskies.”
Samantha pictured sled dogs as big and ferocious as wolves. A small animal would cross their path—a badger or a sweet little chipmunk—and the dogs would want to chase it. The sled would tip into deep, unplowed snow, and they’d all end up with soaked clothing and terrible cases of frostbite.
But Charlie had been insistent on the phone. She had to do whatever Arthur suggested.
Her hand went to the arrowhead pendant. She twirled it pensively and took a deep breath.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” She made her voice cheerful.
“Come down to the kitchen before we go.” Drew stood up. “Martha saved you a stack of pancakes and there’s a pot of fresh coffee.”
The first part of the excursion went better than Samantha expected. Their guide had been a professional dogsledder for ten years and knew all there was to know about it. Guides were called mushers, and he led a team of 140 Alaskan racing tour dogs. The Alaskan racing dog was a descendant of the Siberian Huskies, but much gentler. Samantha immediately bonded with a dog called Alfie. Alfie had a white nose and his sad brown eyes reminded Samantha of Socks. She even took a photo of Alfie to send to Charlie to showSocks, but then deleted it from her phone. She didn’t want Socks to become jealous because she was seeing other dogs.
The sky was a pale winter blue and the snow was as powdery as icing on a cake. Samantha didn’t even mind the cold. She wore a red parka and a pair of waterproof boots she borrowed from the ranch’s mudroom.
They stopped for lunch at the top of the trail. There were thermoses of hot soup, and they passed around bread and hunks of cheese. Perhaps next Christmas she could go dogsledding with her parents. She could even take Socks. She’d get him the doggy reindeer sweater she saw at the gift shop in Teton Village and a pair of booties.
After lunch, Beatrix insisted she wanted to drive the sled. Samantha tried to sit on a different one, but Beatrix’s mouth formed a small pout.
“You have to come on my sled.” Beatrix slipped her arm through Samantha’s. “Drew is driving with his father; it would be more fun if you and I are together. I’m a great driver, I drove a sled in the Bavarian Alps.” She gave a small laugh. “It was easy compared to steering the Porsche I rented in Munich. The Porsche was built for the racetrack, it had never been driven on the autobahn.” Beatrix adjusted her mirrored sunglasses. “There’s nothing to it. You simply trust your instincts.”
Samantha reluctantly climbed on the sled and sat in the back. Beatrix gave the dogs a gentle pat and they set off down the trail. Samantha had to admit, Beatrix was a wonderful driver. She led the dogs with a combination of warmth and confidence that rivaled the professional mushers.
