A Family Found (17 page)

So rapt by her mental questioning was she that it was only when Belle grabbed her arm and pointed to the sky that Sophie became aware of the lightning forking just beyond the next peak. And of the wind, suddenly gusting furiously and carrying with it a chilling drop in temperatures.

“Hurry, Sophie. We must find shelter and find it quickly. A freak snow is not beyond the realm of possibility.”

* * *

Tate had done his best in Sophie's absence to help the boys with their studies. He had set aside time this afternoon to listen to Toby's reading and to discuss the Trojan Wars with Marcus. Before they gathered, he had added more logs to the fire. A wild wind howled around the house and the sky looked ominous. “Papa, I checked the barometer, and just like you predicted, it's going down,” Marcus told him. “A storm is coming.”

“So it is,” Tate said. “But we're safe and warm here.”

“Not like last time when the floods came,” Toby reminded them. “Do you think they'll come again?”

“Remember, son, not every rain causes flooding. Besides, rain is good for the grasslands.”

“I wish Miss Sophie was here with us,” Marcus said as he sprawled on the floor beside Minnie.

Tate nodded in agreement. Belle and Sophie had been hiking today, but surely they had arrived safely back at the Harpers' by now. This would be no night for anyone to be up in the mountains. Toby climbed into his lap, holding out his reader. “We're ready for the story about the jungle. Would I like a jungle, do you think?”

“Only if you didn't get eaten by a lion,” Marcus said gleefully.

“Yes, Toby, you might very well like a jungle with all its exotic plants, animals and birds.”

“What's
exotic
mean?”

Tate had just finished defining the word when a loud knock sounded. Tate set Toby aside and went to answer. A gust nearly tore the door from his hand, and when he looked out, there stood Joe Harper, a wild expression on his face. “Come in, man.”

The two huddled in the entry, where Harper, spotting the boys looking up in curiosity, spoke quietly, his voice edged with dread. “Belle and Sophie haven't returned. The lightning is fierce and it seems to be snowing above the timberline. Will you come help look for them?”

Never had Tate felt such a powerful and instinctive need for action. Sophie? His Sophie? In danger...or worse?

“On top of everything else, one of those reporters was at the store this afternoon bragging about interviewing Sophie and Belle up on Flattop. What if there were more of those hooligans...?” The man couldn't put words to his fear.

“I'll meet you at the barn in five minutes and recruit a couple of the hands to join us.”

“Hurry, please.” Harper left the house, but when Tate turned around, he was confronted by two ashen-faced boys.

“Is she all right?” Toby squeaked out.

“Miss Sophie?” Marcus managed.

Of course they had overheard. In his own rising panic Tate felt helpless to reassure them, but he must. “They are smart women. They will find a way to be safe.” He held out his arms to embrace them. “Bertie will take good care of you, and now I must be off.”

He had put on his coat, a poncho and a broad hat and was ready to join Harper at the barn when Marcus came up beside him and grasped his hand. “Bring Miss Sophie home, Papa, please.”

Home? Yes, home.
“I'll do my best, son.”

* * *

Joined by John Tyler, Sam and Pancho, Tate and Joe did not spare the horses as they raced past Bear Lake and finally reached Sophie's Ranger and Belle's Doc. It was decided Sam would remain with the mounts while the other four continued the search. Although lightning still crackled across the sky, the freak snowstorm had quickly passed. There remained only an hour or so of daylight. The already penetrating cold would only worsen as night fell. Tate reined in his fear, summoning all his energy to lead the others at a grueling pace. By the time they reached the summit of Flattop, with no sign of the women, he knew they would have to proceed in the semidarkness. He had had the foresight to grab a couple of lanterns from the barn, which they paused long enough to light. The passage across the ridge was challenging even in the daylight, and their pace would be slowed by the precarious nature of the route. Every now and then one of the men would call out, “Belle! Sophie!” But the mountains yielded no reply.

As they slowly made their way along the ridge, Tate didn't want to think about the rocks below or the scree-covered slopes that could propel one down a mountainside with terrifying speed. One false step. That was all it would take. As they went higher, a dry snow dusted their path, adding to the necessity for caution when all Tate wanted to do was race forward. “Sophie!” he screamed into the growing darkness.

“Belle!” Joe echoed.

Nothing.

Tate hoped against hope that perhaps the women had found another route for their descent and might already have joined Sam and the horses. Wind gusts caused the lantern flames to flicker. Surely the women would not have continued in the face of the sudden storm.
Please, God, let them be safe.
Then he realized that it was indeed God who could deliver Sophie to him. As for the prayer he had so spontaneously uttered? It was his most effective tool...and his sole comfort. Up on this mountain, his human frailty had become all too clear to him. Yet one other force drove him relentlessly forward—his love for his precious Sophie.

* * *

“Do you see that?” Belle said, leaning forward beyond the rock shelf under which the women had sought shelter from the advancing storm.

“What?” Sophie sat under the rock overhang, her knees pulled up against her chest in the effort to keep warm.

“Lanterns, I think.”

Sophie hastened to join her friend. Peering into the darkness, she stared in the direction Belle indicated. “The light comes and goes.”

“Surely no one was so foolish as to come look for us. We are not idiots.”

Sophie managed a rueful smile. “Only cold idiots.”

“I know my brother. He was worried when we didn't return, even if he knows full well that I can take care of myself.” She dug in her pocket and extracted a tin of matches. “Gather those pine needles and leaves where we've been sitting. If we spot those lights again, we can build a small fire, but we'll have to time it so whoever it is can see the flame.”

Sophie bent to the task and soon had a decent pile of dry tinder and had even found a few twigs for kindling. She also had located a notebook in her pack and tore out the pages and added them to the stack.

“We'd have survived the night,” Belle assured her. “Staying out during a lightning storm would have been not only risky, but idiotic.”

From their vantage point, they watched the clouds disperse and a weak moon rise, shedding faint light on the rocks. They waited, all senses on alert. After long minutes, Belle grabbed Sophie's arm. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Listen!”

Then, borne on the wind, came two mournful syllables. “So-phie!”

Belle once more looked out. “Someone's coming. I'm going to light the fire.”

Sophie leaned over to blow gently on the tentative flame. After three matches, the fire took and both women gently fed it until they had achieved a healthy blaze.

Belle sat back on her heels. “Now all we can do is wait.”

“There's one more thing.” Sophie moved to the edge of the ledge and cupped her hands. “Tate!” She didn't stop to wonder why she knew it was he who had called out for her in the night. She just knew.

Within ten minutes, the search party had arrived. While Pancho held both lanterns high, Joe gathered his sister in his arms. “Don't ever scare me like that again!”

“We were fine, Joe. Really.”

Sophie moved to Tate and slipped her gloved hand in his. “Thank you.”

“The mountains are capricious,” he said, his eyes dark coals warming her with their intensity. “They require respect.” His stilted words didn't match his concerned expression.

“You're not saying what you're really thinking.” She moved closer, feeling the comforting solidity of his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her and turned her to face him. Lantern light shadowed one side of his face, drawn with concern. “I have never been so afraid. I couldn't lose you.”

She avoided dwelling on his words, which gave rise to such longing. “Belle and I are fairly self-reliant, but I regret we caused you distress.”

He pulled her closer and tilted her chin so she couldn't avoid his eyes, watering either from the wind or from emotion, she couldn't tell which. In a choked voice, he spoke such welcome words she could scarcely keep her balance. “I prayed, Sophie. I prayed for you.” Then he wrapped her in a bear hug. “And God is very good.”

“Very good, indeed,” she whispered against his chest.

Chapter Fourteen

A
t the end of the week, Sophie watched Marcus, his brow furrowed in concentration, adding Latin labels to a map of ancient Rome he'd drawn. Toby was worrying over multiplication problems. Grateful for the productive silence, she eased back in her chair, caught up in her own musing.

Shy
was a word seldom used to describe her, yet she couldn't help blushing and becoming uncommonly quiet whenever Tate was nearby, which he now frequently was during the boys' study time. She would catch him looking at her over his newspaper, as if to assure himself she was still there. In the two days since what she knew he regarded as her mountain “rescue,” she had tried to mask the self-consciousness she felt in his presence. It was as if they were involved in some intricate courtship dance in which neither was familiar with the steps. If she was honest, she had found her ordeal with the unpredictable mountain weather unsettling and in retrospect could admit she'd experienced relief when Tate and the others had appeared. But not merely relief. Nor gratitude. Something more. Indefinable but insistent. As if they had been destined to find one another.

She shook her head, disgusted with that line of thinking. Girlish whimsy! Anyway, time was becoming critical. She and Belle were joining Wild Bill and his party Thursday to mount the three-day Longs Peak attempt, weather permitting. Too much later than this early-September date, the threat of heavier snows would likely make the ascent impossible. Although she had as yet made no final decision concerning whether to remain in the mountains or return home for the winter, she knew if she elected to stay, provisions must be ordered. She had received a strongly worded letter from Caleb urging her not to risk a high country winter—and one from Rose, touching in her earnest hope that Sophie would return to her childhood home. But even if she returned to Kansas, Sophie couldn't impose upon family for room and board. She would have to find her own place. Perhaps the local school could use her services, but that prospect gave her little pleasure.

“I'm finished,” Toby announced triumphantly. “Nine times seven is sixty-three, right?”

Sophie nodded.

“I'm pretty smart, you know,” he said as if expecting applause.

“You are, indeed,” Tate said from across the room. “Smart enough for a game of dominoes?”

Toby slid from his seat and went to fetch the domino tiles. After he and Tate had settled to the game, Marcus moved his chair closer to hers. “What about this winter, Miss Sophie?”

“What do you mean?”

“How will you make it from your cabin through the snow to teach us? I'm just getting the hang of Latin, and I need you.” As if the idea had just occurred to him, he said, “Maybe you could live here for the winter.”

Sophie's heart sank. She couldn't possibly consider being in the same house with Tate every day for months, all the time confused by the emotions he brought to the surface. “I have my own home,” she said quietly.

“But it was empty before you came,” the boy said with irrefutable logic. Then before she could stop him, he shouted across the room, “Papa, let's invite Miss Sophie to spend the winter with us so she won't have to be alone. That way we could continue our lessons with her.”

Toby clapped his hands. “Yea! Miss Sophie could have the bedroom upstairs next to ours.”

There was no deciphering the look on Tate's face—pleasure or distress?

Sophie stood and put her arm around Marcus. “This is a thoughtful invitation, Marcus, and I would enjoy spending more time with you, of course, but I have my own affairs to consider.”

“We'll help you consider,” Toby said. “I'm good at considering.”

Tate rose to his feet. “Sophie, Marcus's idea is worth considering. We have the room.”

Sophie mustered a smile. “Oh, so you're good at considering, too?”

He returned the smile. “Only when the outcome suits me. And this would.”

“I'm sorry, Tate. I have to be responsible for myself.”

“Have you determined, then, to leave the valley for the winter?”

“I'll deal with my decision after the summit attempt. For now, I'm focused on two things—your boys and Longs Peak.”

He slumped. “Very well. But please think about Marcus's suggestion.”

Eager to lighten the mood, Sophie smiled and said, “I suppose I could...
consider
it.”

* * *

On Sunday Tate was surprised to find Belle and Sophie missing from the services his sons continued to persuade him to attend. Joe Harper explained that their Longs Peak guide had needed to go over their plans and was only available that morning. Uneasy about the direction of Sophie's winter plans and even more confused about what feelings, if any, Sophie might have for him, Tate was disappointed not to see her, no matter how awkward such a meeting might be. If she were any other tutor, it would make perfect sense that such a person board at the house. He harrumphed. She wasn't “any other tutor.” She was a woman occupying more and more of his thoughts. Under no circumstances, even these, could he imagine facing her every morning over the polite distance of the breakfast table when what he really wanted was to take her in his arms. He'd been hopeful of her affections until she'd spoken of her fiancé. She had loved her Charlie with heart and soul. How could he hope to offer such a love? In fact, he'd begun to doubt he had ever truly loved Ramona or she him. If he moved Sophie in as the tutor, how could he keep his distance and conceal his feelings for her? Then there were the boys to consider. He winced. That word
consider
again. At the very beginning, he'd worried about their possible attachment to her. Better for all concerned to have a clean separation now than for the two of them to circle each other warily for weeks on end. An amicable parting of the ways would spare him and his sons further pain.

All the way home from the church services, while the boys chattered merrily, he reviewed the logic of his thinking. It all made perfect sense. A swift cut ensured rapid healing. Then as if a voice had thundered from the mountains, he faced the truth. Who did he think he was fooling? Logic had nothing to do with it. He didn't care what induced her to remain here or what the repercussions might be. No. He wanted Sophie to stay under whatever conditions. A winter without her would be intolerable. A week. A day...

“Papa, do you think we could be at the base of the trail on Saturday to cheer for Miss Sophie and Miss Belle after they come down from the top of Longs Peak?”

“What did you say?” Jarred from his thoughts, Tate thought he had surely misheard Marcus.

“Everybody was talking about it this morning,” Toby added.

“About what?”

“The celebration,” Marcus explained. “Lots of the church folk want to be there to greet them.”

“And Mrs. Tyler 'spects some of those brazen snoopers.” Toby paused. “What's
brazen
mean?”

Had he been so preocuupied all morning that he hadn't heard a word of this? Could he dare take the boys to such a gathering? What if something happened to Sophie on the mountain? They would be devastated. And yet if she and Belle were successful? It would be a feat Marcus and Toby would, indeed, want to witness and celebrate. “I'll see,” he muttered, turning the buggy at the bridge.

“‘I'll see.' That's all you have to say about the most exciting thing Miss Sophie has ever done?” Marcus stared straight ahead in defiance.

“Yeah, we know her better'n anyone,” Toby said. “And she's gonna be—” he paused for emphasis “—spectacular!”

Tate chewed his lip. He wanted Sophie to be spectacular. More than that, he wanted her to be safe. But what if...? He closed his eyes briefly against the reality of the risks she would be facing.

As soon as they got home and finished the midday meal, Tate buried himself in his office, searching for something—anything—to distract him from his mounting concern. Tiny Sophie, not that much bigger than Marcus. What chance did she have against the unforgiving peak? He turned to his ledger books, determined to lay aside his worry. Intent on the task of bringing his accounts up to date, he was disturbed by a knock on his door. Bertie didn't wait for his invitation to enter, but burst into the room. “Sir, I don't know how it happened, but Toby has gone missing!”

He leaped to his feet, barely fending off panic. “Missing? What are you saying?”

“I was picking berries in the back garden. Marcus was in his room reading and Toby told me he and Buster would play in front. When I went to check on him, I couldn't find him or the dog. I've looked everywhere.”

Marcus sidled into the room, his eyes wide with concern. “Papa, I didn't see him.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“I don't know, sir. Perhaps an hour.”

Tate brushed past them, imagining his son being confronted by a mountain lion or slipping into the fast-moving river. “We've no time to lose. Bertie, alert the men and have them search behind the house. I'll start down the road. Marcus, you and Bertie keep looking in the house, in closets, cupboards, wherever you think your brother might hide.”

His chest tight with fear, Tate threw a saddle on his horse and after satisfying himself that Toby was, indeed, not in the yard, galloped down the drive, pausing only at the bridge to assure himself Toby wasn't playing near the water. He reined in when he came to the road. Which way would the boy go? Of course, to Sophie's. Where else?

He had ridden only a quarter of a mile or so when he rounded a curve and spotted Toby, with Buster at his side, walking down the center of the road as if he hadn't a care in the world. Relief warred with his need to scold his son. He trotted closer, then dismounted, leading his horse toward the boy. The fears of the past few minutes had reminded him once again how precious his sons were to him. He knew he couldn't always protect them, but his instinct was to do just that. “Toby Lockwood,” he called.

The boy whirled around. “Papa? What are you doing here?”

Tate bit his tongue. “Looking for you.”

“I'm a big boy. Smart, too.”

“Yes, but that doesn't give you license to wander off and worry Bertie and the rest of us. Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

He hung his head and traced a figure in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “No.”

“Didn't you think we'd worry when we couldn't find you?”

He shrugged.

Tate knelt in front of his son and took him by the shoulders. “You must never do this again. If you want to go someplace, one of us needs to come with you.”

Toby looked up. “Will you come with me now? I need to go to Miss Sophie's.”

“Why is that?”

“She wasn't at church this morning, so I have to tell her the end of the story. 'Bout Joseph. Guess what, you see Joseph becomes a really important man in Egypt and—”

“Not now, son.” Tate paused to get himself under control. Then he arrived at the only decision that made any sense. “You can tell us all about it when we get to Miss Sophie's cabin.”

* * *

After returning from Wild Bill's and a detailed orientation of their route on Longs Peak, Sophie turned Ranger loose in the corral and was leaving the barn when she spotted Tate riding toward her, Toby tucked against his chest and Buster trotting along beside them. She couldn't imagine what had happened. Marcus? But if something were wrong with him, Tate wouldn't have left home. As they neared, Sophie noticed Toby's flushed, excited face and broad grin. “Miss Sophie, Miss Sophie,” he called out, “I got something to tell you.”

Tate nodded at Sophie, looking apologetic, before dismounting and lifting Toby to the ground. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I just returned myself. Please, come sit on the porch while I hang up my bonnet and get us all some water.”

While Buster and Beauty ran around the yard, Tate settled in one of the rockers and Toby sat cross-legged on the floor, jiggling his knees in anticipation. Tate sighed. This is what comes of permitting your children to go to church, he thought. How could one Bible story have so fired his son's imagination? “I can't wait to tell her,” Toby said. “It's a special story.”

No sooner had Sophie distributed the tin cups and taken a seat in the other rocker than Toby launched in. “'Member Joseph was in the pit. Then he was saved and went to Egypt. But his brothers almost forgot all about him. And then...” He launched into the story, standing at times to act out parts.

Sophie smiled both because of the boy's enthusiasm and Tate's bemused expression. For a non-churchgoer, he must be wondering what he had spawned. Perhaps she should feel a hint of guilt, but she was too caught up in Toby's skillful retelling, culminating with Joseph's tearful reunion with his family. “See!” Toby exulted. “Everything came out fine. All because of God, right?”

If only it were that simple, Sophie reflected. Toby would learn soon enough that although God was always with him, life would still present disappointments, pain and grief. “What is the lesson of this story, Toby?”

“Even if your family does bad things, maybe you can forgive them someday?”

Sophie's heart contracted, wondering if Toby's remark was innocent or born out of his mother's departure. She glanced at Tate, whose jaw was working. He seemed unwilling or unable to meet her eyes. “That's a splendid conclusion. Forgiveness of others matters. Sometimes we even have to forgive ourselves.”

“I 'spect I need to forgive myself.” Toby leaned his chin on his fists. “I did a bad thing,” he mumbled.

Before she could inquire further, Tate moved from his seat to join Toby on the floor. Gently he took the boy's hands in his. “Not so much a ‘bad' thing, son, as something you did on impulse without considering how your action would affect others.”

“I shoulda asked, right?”