A Family Found (16 page)

Returning to the present, Sophie tucked Alf's hand in hers as they trudged along. “I have seen a bear, quite close actually, and I have a friend named Grizzly, who wears a bearskin coat and hat. I have yet to see an eagle, but there are hawks aplenty, and—”

“One day might I come visit you in Colorado? I should so like to see the mountains.”

His question tore at Sophie. Soon, she would have to decide where she belonged. “You are always welcome, Alf. I believe you would find the mountains as beautiful and compelling as I do.”

“Someday I will come,” he said with resolve.

“Yes, someday,” Sophie whispered.
God willing.

* * *

Sophie would surely come back. If for nothing more than to reclaim her belongings and say goodbye. Tate tried not to be obvious, but Joe Harper must surely wonder why he so frequently checked for his mail. Today he'd manufactured an excuse concerning business matters. But standing in Joe's tiny wooden post office, Tate experienced yet another disappointment. Still no word from Sophie. Only a brief telegram from Robert Hurlburt announcing Andrew Montgomery's death. It had been two weeks now since Sophie had departed. Tate rationalized that settling affairs and being with her family would take some time, but if she was still set on Longs Peak, she would have to return soon lest weather prevent the attempt. Belle remained convinced the two of them would persevere, although she, too, had received no post from Sophie, whose determination to make the ascent was Tate's best reason for hope.

“Get what you came for?” Joe asked as he continued sorting envelopes.

“Yes and no.”

The postmaster looked up, studying Tate closely. “Belle didn't hear from Sophie today, either.”

The valley was full of mind readers and gossips, Tate thought sourly. “Am I that transparent?”

Joe chuckled, but had the grace to say no more.

Changing the subject, Tate asked, “Have you heard anything further about those journalist fellows?”

“Two of them were in here yesterday, nosing around. Wanted to talk with Belle. I told them no. They got a bit hostile, asking why I thought I had to protect a grown woman fully capable of speaking for herself.” He paused. “I tell you, Lockwood, I didn't like them or their attitude, and I'm afraid there are others like them, itching to get a big story.”

“If Sophie comes back and she and Belle attack Longs, I'm thinking we need to have a plan. Feisty as they are, two young women may be no match for a pack of ravening opportunists.”

“Their ilk are relentless.”

“You can count on me and my hands, and I'm sure Jackson and John Tyler will help.”

“I'll talk with some of the other valley men, as well,” Joe promised.

“There's a part of me that wishes Sophie would stay safely in Kansas.”

“A mighty small part, I reckon,” Joe said, winking broadly. “She's good for you and the boys.”

Tate chafed at the personal turn of the conversation. “Yes,” was all he said before lifting his hat in a gesture of farewell.

He rode home slowly. He couldn't recall when anyone had occupied his thoughts as Sophie had these past interminable days. It didn't help that the boys talked about her incessantly and clamored for the information he couldn't give. In truth, he had no idea whether she would return, and if she did, for how long. He was in a bad way and knew with certainty that if she didn't come to him, he would go to her.

* * *

Sophie woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Dawn was just breaking through the east-facing window and the curtains rustled in the gentle breeze. As she roused to full consciousness, she remembered how she'd arrived exhausted at the Hurlburts' Denver home the previous evening after a fortnight in Kansas. Effie had fed her a light supper and packed her off to bed, assuring her there would be plenty of time to talk after she'd had a good night's sleep. Sophie turned on her side to watch the sun rise. It had been so difficult leaving her family and the familiarity of the Flint Hills. They had, of course, implored her to stay. In her heart of hearts, she knew she could not. She had to finish what she had begun, both with Belle and the Lockwood boys. Then...then she would decide where her future lay.

Before she returned to Colorado, she'd made herself face once again Charlie's death and the loss of his love. The day before her departure from Cottonwood Falls, she went to the courthouse. She walked around the magnificent building, touching the stones that Charlie's strong hands had sculpted, marveling in his vision and his talent. She prayed for the magnificent limestone facade to reveal a message, to direct her decision. The silent stones yielded nothing. Yet as she concluded her circuit, her father's voice echoed in her mind:
Trust in the Lord
.

That was all she could do. And now, lying here, nothing was any clearer to her than it had been that day at the courthouse.
Trust.
Somehow, someday, she would be shown the way. Meanwhile, she had a goal that might get her through the coming weeks—the ascent of Longs Peak.

After breakfast, Robert left the house on business he needed to accomplish before accompanying her to Estes Park. Effie poured them each another cup of coffee and suggested they retire to the front porch with its grand view of the Front Range. For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Sophie let her beloved mountains calm her while the taste of fresh-brewed coffee spoke to her of the blessing of friends like Effie.

“My dear, you have been through a difficult time. The death of a parent is a stab to the heart.”

“I never knew my mother,” Sophie said in a soft tone. “My father was my everything—nurturer, confidant, protector, playmate. Even at the grave site, I found it impossible to believe he had vanished from the earth.”

“But never from your heart.”

Sophie clutched her cup for its comforting warmth. “No, never from my heart.”

“Trite as it must sound, somehow life does go on, but any semblance of normalcy takes time. Permit yourself that time.”

Silence ensued in which Sophie pondered the demands on her life—the desire of her family to have her return to Kansas, the tug of Toby and Marcus on her heart, the daunting but energizing task of trying to scale a 14,255-foot-high peak, the need to decide whether to winter in the mountains.

Then Effie homed in on the one thing Sophie had tried to avoid thinking about. “And what of Tate Lockwood? Robert seems to think he has more than a passing interest in you.”

Being in Kansas with all its rich memories of Charlie's courtship had made it easy to block any thought of Tate...and her attraction to him. Yet seeing the mountains had stirred feelings in her she had not until this moment fully admitted to herself. “I don't know, Effie.”

“He's a complex man, but I do believe he is one capable of great love if he will give himself over to another.” Effie cocked her head inquiringly. “Could you be that one?”

Sipping from her cup, Sophie delayed replying. How could she answer? Her emotions were confused in a way she'd rarely experienced. She was both eager to see Tate and at the same time terrified of misreading his intentions. And guilty at the thought of being, in any way, unfaithful to Charlie's memory. “Dear Effie, I'm grateful for your interest and affection. But I cannot answer you. I don't even know my own mind.”

Effie set down her cup and took Sophie's hand. “Then go to the mountains, child. Be open to their lessons.”

“Thank you, Effie.” With the sun warming the porch, Sophie tipped her head back, experiencing a peace that had eluded her for many days.

Chapter Thirteen

S
ophie's jaw dropped. She'd expected to find a musty, dirty cabin. Instead, the windowpanes had been cleaned and nary a speck of dust was to be found on any surface. In the center of the table was a bouquet of mountain wildflowers and simmering on the stove, a pot of chicken and dumplings. She whirled to face Robert Hurlburt. “Who? What? I'm flabbergasted.”

He removed his hat and stepped toward her, grinning broadly. “Elves, do you suppose?”

She shot him a knowing look. “Fess up. I think there's a plot afoot.”

He pointed at two notes on her bed. She immediately recognized Marcus's precise hand and Toby's scrawl. “The boys?” She hastily read their welcome-home messages in which they took credit for the appearance of her home.

Robert winked. “And their father.”

It was hard to grasp the idea of Tate Lockwood bent to mundane housekeeping tasks. “Tate?”

“He wrote me that he and the boys were hatching this plan to welcome you.”

Before she'd left, Tate had promised to look in on the cabin, but this was beyond her expectations. Just then Beauty bounded inside, her tail wagging an exuberant welcome. Behind her raced the two boys followed by Tate. “Happy homecoming, Miss Sophie!” her students shouted before catapulting into her arms.

“We missed you,” Toby said.

Marcus, nodding vigorously, added, “Please, don't leave us again.”

Moved by their embrace, Sophie could barely contain her emotions. Then her eyes caught Tate's. He stood across the room, motionless, taking in the scene before him. As if a magnet had fixed her gaze on him, she couldn't look away. “Welcome home, Sophie,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, kissing each boy on the top of the head and then casting an approving glance around the cabin before extending her hand to Tate. “I'm overwhelmed by your care of my home.” The pressure of his thumb grazing the back of her hand sent a spark through her.

Before releasing her hand, Tate explained that he and the boys had prepared the cabin for her arrival and Bertie had cooked the meal. “I picked the flowers,” Marcus added.

“Anyone else famished?” Robert asked. “Let's eat.”

As they gathered at the table, Sophie had a clear view of the mountains, lush with their varied hues of green. She took a deep breath, then, looking around, said, “It's good to be here with all of you.”

Tate caught her eye. “I hope it may always be so.” In his fond glance, she read something beyond his customary reserve. “Colorado isn't the same without you.” At the other end of the table, the boys were laughing at something Robert had said. Tate leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Sophie,
I'm
not the same without you, either.”

His admission caught her by surprise. It wouldn't do to acknowledge how often he'd been in her thoughts on the trip back or how rich her hopes were for a new beginning. “I missed you,” she said, and then quickly added, “and the boys.” Tate's words seemed to imply a shift in their relationship, but given her recent poignant memories of Charlie, she needed time before she was ready to explore the deepening affection between her and Tate.

Shortly after their meal, she was further surprised by a hubbub in the yard. When she went to investigate, the Tylers, Harpers and Grizzly shouted, “Welcome back!”

Belle ran toward her, arms outspread. “We're so glad you're home.”

That was not the last time the word
home
was used to describe her cabin. Throughout the rest of the early evening as her friends offered their sympathy for her father's death and caught her up on local news, she wondered once more where
home
really was. Could it be here? From somewhere deep inside, the next question demanded her attention:
With Tate?

* * *

The following Sunday was one of those perfect days travel writers draw upon to extol the beauty and benefits of mountain living—blue skies, warm temperatures and just enough breeze to carry the fragrance of alpine meadows. Sophie arrived at the Tylers' in plenty of time to greet the neighbors and thank them for their condolences. She and Belle cornered one of the old-timers and peppered him with questions about Longs Peak. Despite his clear disapproval of their motives, he warmed to the topics of the boulder field, the chasm view of the lake far below the east face and the challenges other climbers had faced. So engrossed were the women in his tales that at the cowbell's summons, they could hardly tear themselves away. Hurrying toward the assembled congregation, Sophie was distracted by the sight of Marcus and Toby waving at her. What were they doing here? Then, unbelievably, she spotted Tate seated behind them, a self-conscious grin on his face. He shrugged, as if acknowledging the novelty of his attendance.

Belle grabbed her by the arm and they quickly found a spot just as John Harper began leading the opening hymn, which, with a kind of blessed synchronicity, was “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” The music immediately transported Sophie back to her father's funeral and the voices raised there in sweet communion. Glancing around at her neighbors, who were clearly intent on praising the Lord, she thanked God that faith could be found both in Cottonwood Falls and in Estes Park. She sneaked a look at Tate, who, though not singing, was holding the hymnal for his sons. She assumed it was they who had led him here, and for that, she was grateful. He had fought so fiercely to avoid acknowledging God's work in his life, yet here he was. She folded her hands in her lap, praying that no matter what happened between her and Tate, he might, at last, come to know the Lord and find peace.

She grew drowsy with the long-winded sermon and was grateful when it came to an end. Hardly had the last
Amen
been chorused than Toby and Marcus came to her side. “I'm pleased to see you here,” she said.

Marcus nodded sagely. “It's the best place to learn more about the Bible.”

“I usually like the stories,” Toby added. “Not today, though. How could those mean brothers leave Joseph in a pit?”

Sophie patted his head. “Just wait. You'll like the ending.”

Tate joined them. “Good morning,” he said, doffing his hat. “I'm wondering if you know when you can resume the lessons?”

“Not before Tuesday or Wednesday. Belle and I are planning a strenuous hike tomorrow. We have so little time left to prepare for Longs Peak.”

“Ladies don't climb tall mountains,” Toby announced.

“Now, then, you know I've set a goal of climbing that one—” she pointed to the tallest peak “—and I intend to achieve it.”

Marcus nodded. “‘Anything is possible,' that's what you always say.”

Tate edged closer. “I trust you'll exercise caution.” When the boys ran off to join their friends, he drew her aside. “I must warn you about a distressing development concerning your summit attempt.”

She cocked her head in inquiry. “Go on.”

As he filled her in about the gathering interest of newspapermen and other naysayers, she waited patiently until he finished. “We are aware of such folk and have even encountered a couple of them.”

“It might be best if you didn't reveal the specifics of your plans. I would hate to think any of them would try to sabotage your efforts.”

“Thank you for this word of caution.”

He lifted her hands in his. “I don't suppose there's any possibility of dissuading you from this venture?”

She laughed. “You know me better than that. When I'm determined—”

“—wild horses can't stop you.” He smiled. “Your spirit is part of what makes you so endearing.”

Endearing?
“And your protectiveness reveals genuine concern.”

He stepped closer, gathering their joined hands to his chest. “I beg you to take care. What you call ‘concern,' I call—” he faltered before going on “—affection.”

From somewhere in the chaos of her emotions, Sophie heard Toby's insistent voice. “Papa, Papa.” His abrupt appearance saved her from the necessity to speak. Just as well. She had no words with which to respond.

“Papa, wanna see a lizard?” The boy held out his cupped hands.

Sophie mentally shook her head. Nothing like a lizard to save her from a moment of intimacy for which she wasn't sure she was ready.

Belle joined them and Tate repeated his warning. She nodded. “Joe says the same thing. We'll be careful.”

“But undaunted,” Sophie added. “And tomorrow we have a big test—the longest, most ambitious of our hikes so far.”

Toby set the lizard on the ground. “You can do anything, Miss Sophie.” His adoring look humbled her.

Please, God, keep me from ever hurting this boy or his brother.

* * *

In the cold light of dawn, Sophie and Belle set out on horseback for the trailhead. They were attempting not only Flattop Peak, but the two adjacent ones, all three connected by a narrow ridge. As they rode along, it seemed sacrilege to break nature's silence with words. Sophie had scarcely slept for the excitement of once again scaling heights she had only been able to dream of in Kansas. Just as they passed a tarn, the sun rose, silvering the surface of the water. Kinnikinnick and lichen-covered rocks blanketed the ground beneath scrubby junipers as they approached the spot where they would tether their horses. “Today will test us,” Belle said as she dismounted.

As eager as they both were to climb Longs, Sophie knew neither would make a foolhardy decision just to save face. “Let's go, then!” Sophie said, strapping two canteens around her chest. They had gone scarcely a half a mile when a greasy-haired young man with a notebook in his hand jumped from behind some bushes and blocked their way.

“Sophie Montgomery? Belle Harper?” He had the inquisitive look of a well-fed weasel.

“Sir, let us be on our way,” Belle said, attempting to brush past him.

The man merely backed up and held his ground. “I mean no harm. I just want to interview the Longs Peak Beauties.” He handed Belle a card. “Rupert Stowe, reporter for the Denver paper.”

Sophie bristled. “First of all, this is highly inappropriate. You, sir, are essentially accosting us, hardly a ploy guaranteeing our cooperation. Second, we are not a sideshow. We are two women setting out to prove our mettle against the mountain.”

“And third,” Belle joined in, “we have no intention of giving you or any of your so-called colleagues an interview at this point. So you have a choice. Either let us pass or follow along if you can keep up with us, asking your questions as you will, knowing we will not answer.”

With that, both women left the trail, skirting the man, and began climbing at a rapid pace. Neither looked back for some time, although from the gasping behind them, they knew the reporter was trying to follow. “He won't last another five hundred feet of altitude gain,” Belle snorted under her breath.

“This will be his first lesson in how a determined woman can be equal to a man,” Sophie said, planting one booted foot in front of the other.

When they were certain the interloper had been left far behind, they rested briefly and drank from their canteens. “This is what my brother and Tate warned us about. I don't know who has been bandying our plans about, but the press is clearly on our trail.”

Sophie grinned. “Even if Mr. Stowe couldn't keep up.” Then she sobered. “Neither of us wants this to turn into a spectacle.”

Belle screwed the lid back on her canteen. “Perhaps it is best if only those close to us know the date of our attempted ascent. When we have succeeded, then it will be time for interviews to help further the cause of emancipating women.”

After a difficult last few feet to the top of the second peak, they sat down and extracted lunches from their packs. The views in all directions were spectacular. Belle broke the silence. “Have you decided whether to stay for the winter?”

Sophie shook her head, aware she would have to make that decision before early snows blocked her escape route.

“Much as I would prefer for you to be here, I have to say I'm concerned about how you would fare, removed as you are, in your cabin. You're brave and resilient, but our winters make victims of the uninitiated.”

Sophie knew it would be foolish to underestimate the elements. “I haven't decided.” She paused, gathering the will to voice her confession. “Belle, I'm afraid once I leave, I may never come back.” There. It was out. The tug of family and Kansas was strong, yet no matter how she rationalized living in Cottonwood Falls, it didn't feel right. Yet how could she reasonably stay in Estes Park?

“You love it here, don't you?”

Sophie lifted her arm and swept it across the landscape. “It's not only beautiful, it's sacred.”

“You tutor the Lockwood boys. Perhaps you could board there for the winter. Bertie would be a suitable chaperone.”

“Still tongues might wag.”

Belle tilted her hat back and looked squarely at Sophie. “Might they have cause to wag?” When Sophie blushed, Belle laughed. “I knew it. You're sweet on Tate. And come to think of it, he's mighty attentive to you.”

“I don't know what to do.” Belle sat quietly, waiting for her to continue. “I had a sweetheart once.” Then Sophie told her friend about Charlie. “I came to the mountains to start over, but everywhere I look, I see the rocks and think of Charlie's talent. He would've thrived here.” She leaned over to relace her left boot. “Maybe I'm due only one love in this life.”

“Nonsense,” Belle replied. “You're not in control of love. And if God has seen fit to send you another, as I believe He has, who are you to object?” Rising to her feet, Belle added, “Time to move, sister.”

As Sophie struggled to the third mountaintop, she reflected on Belle's words. Where was the line between being rational and stubbornly ignoring God's will? Charlie would want her to be happy, if such a thing was within her grasp. He would've loved Tate's boys, she thought, imagining how they would have charmed him. Then with each step, she pictured Tate as he had stood in her cabin to welcome her home. In his expression had been such longing and quiet joy that she could scarce believe the evidence of her sight. And then his heartfelt words—
Sophie, I'm not the same without you, either.
She had replayed them over and over in the past few days. If she trusted his words and the feelings they stirred in her, how could she leave this place? Yet daring as she might be, could she reasonably brave a high country winter?