You Sleigh Me
Monty has to rub his eyes in disbelief when he looks out his bedroom window to see the blanket of snow. Nope. Still there. Damn. He thought he'd left Montana far behind him both in years and distance. Somewhere, for some fool reason, he still has heated glove and foot liners. Hell, probably has a ball warmer around somewhere or other. He dresses for cold, active weather with practiced ease. Let the fashion conscious shiver and poke fun at his long johns and flannel shirts.
It's 4:30 AM. Horses get hungry, snow or not. He sees they're taken care of, issues orders that absolutely no fires are allowed in the stables and sets his grooms going through the old storage sheds full of wagons. He knows there's a sleigh in there somewhere. He's seen it. If they need transport, he can hitch up Tyrone and Tessa, and get people and goods where they need to be. Hell, he supposes he could offer sleigh rides to people who might otherwise worry themselves silly about a little freak storm.
By 7:00, he's back at the castle, stomping snow from his boots and waiting to see the King. He's been gathering dead wood since May in preparation for the bonfire. Should be dry enough to burn if they need it.
It's 4:30 AM. Horses get hungry, snow or not. He sees they're taken care of, issues orders that absolutely no fires are allowed in the stables and sets his grooms going through the old storage sheds full of wagons. He knows there's a sleigh in there somewhere. He's seen it. If they need transport, he can hitch up Tyrone and Tessa, and get people and goods where they need to be. Hell, he supposes he could offer sleigh rides to people who might otherwise worry themselves silly about a little freak storm.
By 7:00, he's back at the castle, stomping snow from his boots and waiting to see the King. He's been gathering dead wood since May in preparation for the bonfire. Should be dry enough to burn if they need it.