Voting Starts Today!!!

Howdy, everybody!! 

Today, instead of Horse and Colors of the day, we get to start the voting! The following pictures are all photos from the contestants. I will put the number beside them. Please, when voting, only vote once, and try not to vote for yourself :) Today is the deadline, so I can't take anymore pictures. 

Thank you all for entering, this has been so much fun to see all the different pictures!!! 

Real Horse Contest Entries

#1.by Lexi

#2.by Showers of Blessings

#3.by Gabriella 

#4. by Ellie

Model Horse Contest Entries 

#1. by Lexah Nelson

#2. by Alivia 

#3. by BK's little sister

#4.by BK

#5.by Patience

#6.by BK's cousin

#7.by Leah

#8. by Alivia's little sister

#9.by Alivia's little brother

#10.by Scarlett

I will email the winner with photos of prizes on January 4th!! Voting, so that everyone can get their vote in, is today to January 3rd, and I'll announce the winner on January 4th. 

Chapter Six (the last one was Chapter Five, but I said "Chapter Four" on accident, LOL) of A Christmas Blizzard

Chapter Six

“Dan!” Bertha’s sharp command startled the big man. “You an’ the boys go see if the child’s colt is good.”

Dan nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sure.” He jumped up and waved Mark and Brody to his side.

“Jes’ take Mark,” Bertha ordered. “I wan’ Brody.”

Mark hooted annoyingly and followed his pa out of the cabin. Kate moaned inside. She wanted both obnoxious lads to go, not just Mark.

She looked at the fire, pondering. Finally, she turned to Bertha. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get home. My folks are probably worried sick over me.”

“They most likely think yer dead.” Bertha’s no-nonsense, matter-of-fact sentence brought Kate’s fears to life. The lady was right; Papa and Mama were worried that their second daughter was dead, buried alive with snow and ice.

Kate felt sick.

“Don’t worry, child,” Bertha continued, placing a worn hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were moist. “We won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.” Her voice quivered. “I had a young’un afore, an’ one day I let her go out an’ play. She never returned, due to a storm.” Her eyes hardened. “Ever since, I know when the storms are comin’; I feel ’em in my bones. I feel another storm bruin’, so the boys and I won’t escortcha home yet, or we’ll all get caught in it.”

Kate bit her lip. “I’m so sorry about your loss, Bertha.”

“Thank ya, kid, but there’s nuthin’ ya can do ’bout it.” She smiled, the sorrow quickly passing. She walked to her counter and pulled out a few ingredients. “Liked the bread?”

“Sure did,” Kate piped. “It was the best I’ve ever tasted, better than my ma’s.”

Bertha beamed. “Thank ya. I’ll throw a batch together, then we’ll go back to my room and dress ya.”

Kate chanced a glance at Brody and was surprised to find sadness dwelling there, most likely from the short tail of Bertha’s daughter. She smiled at him, and he brightened. To her surprise, he got up from the chair beside the kitchen and walked over to sit across from her. Kate pulled the blanket closer around, realizing she was just in her underthings with a blanket overtop.

“So, what’s it like living on a big horse ranch?” Brody asked, genuinely curious. “I’ve never lived on a ranch, but I love horses more than anything but my family, and I’ve always wanted a ranch myself.”

Kate noted that Brody didn’t speak like his parents, but was more reformed in his speech like her. Schooling, perhaps? The thought made her even more curious about the Sharps’ background.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Kate gushed. “We raise Quarter Horses, and we love it. I love spending all my time with the horses. We hold races, rodeos, auctions, and sales. I remember my colt’s dam winning one of our quarter mile races.” She grinned. “Our horses are faster than Thoroughbreds.”

“You’re joshing!” Brody’s eyes held excitement. “I’d love to have one.” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “I’d love to race; to win; to be someone.”

Kate smiled. “Don’t you have a horse?”

Brody shrugged. “Nah. Those two stock horses out there are mixed breeds with no pedigree. They are experts in this valley, for cattle and scouting across rocky hills, but we have no fine racers like you breed.”

“I thought your horses plenty beautiful,” Kate replied, recalling the bay and buckskin pacing and prancing in their corral. “They seem young.”

“They are. Greenbroke, descendants from Pa’s best canyon mare.” Brody’s eyes shone. “I bet if you bred one of them to one of your Quarters, we’d result in a real, fine horse, for sure.”

Kate’s eyes glittered back Brody’s zeal. “Sounds - perfect.” They smiled at each other, then Bertha’s cheery voice rang out. “C’mon, Katelyn, let’s go get you dressed.”

Kate felt the warmth rising in her cheeks as she stood to follow Bertha, realizing that now Brody knew she wasn’t in any clothes but her underthings. She avoided the young man’s gaze as she hurried with the woman towards the back room. The woman shut the door and opened a chest in the far corner.

“These are my Abigail’s and my Maggie’s,” Bertha said, a slight fraction of bittersweetness in her voice. “My Abby’s long gone now, moved way out east to the city with her husband, Charley. Maggie - she’s . . .” Bertha paused, gathered herself, and went on. “I’ve been wantin’ t’ see these dresses on some other little’un, but I’m too old t’ bear another child. Ya came along at the right time, Katie.” The cowgirl beamed as she reached inside and pulled out a gorgeous, satiny pink dress.

“Oh, Mrs. Bertha, this is gorgeous,” Kate gasped, reaching out to touch the lacey frills. “I bet Abby and Maggie looked beautiful in this.”

“Oh, they did.” Bertha’s eyes sparkled with remembrance. “They were the prettiest girls on this side o’ the Wallowas. Nothin’ like me when I was a tadpole; I was an ugly mite.”

Kate giggled. “I know you weren’t,” she told the woman. “If you’re not ugly now, you weren’t ugly then.”

Bertha laughed. “You little dear.” She tucked the party dress down back into the chest

and pulled out a different dress. This one wasn’t as frilly, but it was still beautiful. It was a rich red dress, just plain calico, but it was full and beautiful. When Kate was dressed in it with a red ribbon tying back her curly brown ringlets and black button-up shoes, with white stockings and the full amount of petticoats, Bertha whistled. “My, my, my, Katelyn, you’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen, just as pretty as my girls.” She smiled and pulled Kate into a hug. “Such a young beautiful lady ya are.”

Kate felt blessed. Not just did God stop the storm for awhile, and delivered her to safety, He had given her sweet Bertha Sharp, her sons, and that mysterious Dan. Thank You, Lord.

Bertha led Kate back out. Kate found Brody and smiled. “Since the storm’s not howling

like it was, why don’t we go see your horses?”

Brody looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw Kate, his eyes widened and a flush sprang into his cheeks. He stammered over some words before Bertha said, “Go on, boy, and quit yer lollygaggin’.”

At the word “lollygagging”, Kate pictured choking on a lollipop. What kind of word

was “lollygagging” anyway? She broke into uncontrollable giggles, relief of being out of the storm building. Giggling let it lose, but poor Brody thought she was laughing at him.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate apologized when her laughing fit was finished. “That wasn’t at any of you, just myself.” She followed Brody outside.

It was biting cold with a slight blast of wind now and then, but other then that, the weather was holding. Kate wondered if Bertha’s news of another storm was true or not.

“There’s Abby and Maggie, our two fillies,” Brody’s voice boomed.

Kate turned to see. Oh, they were sure gorgeous! They weren’t as pretty as Quarter Horses, with a slight Roman nose on both, but they were sturdy, hardy, and sure-footed for sure. She watched as Brody and the young mares interacted with each other in complete trust. Her fondness for the young man grew, and she find herself flushing red again and wanting to hide in the ground.

“Do you want to see your colt?” Brody asked suddenly. Kate nodded. “That’d be nice.” She followed the boy into the storage shed, which turned out to be a tiny stable. Kate saw Prince and Dan and Mark, cried a grateful whoop of relief, and hugged her horse around the neck. “He’s not lame, is he?”

“Just a little bit,” Dan replied. “But he’s a sound colt and will heal quick; just no riding until Boxing Day.”

“Thank God!” Kate kissed Prince’s nose. “Thank you so much for caring for him.”

“Anytime,” the three said together.

***

Just like Bertha said, a storm did hit. It hit with such a force and so quickly the whole cabin shook and bent sideways with the blast of wind. Admiration filled Kate at Bertha’s wisdom. Thankfulness followed; if it weren’t for Bertha, she’d still be fighting for her life, or dead already; or she’d unwisely be back out there, thinking the storm was surely gone.

Push HERE to read the Last Chapter (Chapter Seven)

Tomorrow is the last chapter! I've enjoyed writing these, and I hope you've had just as fun reading them :) 

~IZZY WEST