A Family Found (8 page)

Sophie withdrew her hand and stood, tucking wayward curls into her haphazard topknot. She walked to the window, remaining there for long minutes before returning to stand behind her chair, gripping its back. Before she spoke, he hurriedly added, “I will pay you what I had intended to pay the tutor, and we will work out mutually convenient hours.” Still she said nothing. What was he overlooking?

“The salary, though welcome, is not a factor for me. I need to think about this, Tate. I can't promise any more than that.”

He hadn't anticipated such reluctance. He pulled out his strongest argument. “The boys need you. They already think of you as a caring friend. And remember Marcus? How he waited to name Minnie until you could help?”

“They are delightful little fellows.”

He seized upon that crumb. “Consider how far behind they already are in their studies. Can either of us in good conscience permit that condition to continue?”

She stared at him. “You cannot. They are your responsibility, but please don't transfer your obligation to me.”

“I didn't mean to suggest...” He took a deep breath and started over. “I know you care about Marcus and Toby. And you are superbly qualified. I appeal to you on their behalf, not mine.”

She nodded and let her eyes fall on him, compassion registering now where before there had been skepticism. “It must be hard for you, Tate. Your concern for your sons is laudable. And you are correct—I am very fond of both boys. I shall consider your proposal and let you know after I pray about it. As you are aware, I've had a rather distressing afternoon. Will Tuesday be soon enough for an answer?”

What choice did he have? “Tuesday will be fine. Perhaps you could join us for the midday meal. Say 1:00 p.m.?”

“I will be there.”

Sensing a new awkwardness between them, he rose to his feet, preparing to leave. “I'll be on my way.”

He grabbed his hat as she ushered him to the door. One last appeal. Surely that was all that it would take. He stepped across the threshold and then turned back to her. “By your own admission, you love a challenge. What could be more challenging than lighting up Marcus with ideas and showing Toby that there's more to life than fun?”

He stared deeply into her eyes, willing her to respond. “Until Tuesday,” he said. Then suddenly remembering his other mission, he reached into his pocket, withdrew an envelope and handed it to her. “From Marcus,” he said before heading toward his horse.

* * *

Because Sunday was warm and windless, folks gathered on chairs and blankets in the Tylers' yard for prayers and to listen to the men take turns reading from Scripture. The lack of a preacher made for a shorter service to the delight of the restless children. Sophie had brought Beauty along and planned to spend the night at the Harpers' so that she and Belle could hike together the following day. Besides, although she would never admit it to Tate, the confrontation with the bear had left her shaken. She had, indeed, been foolhardy to disregard the dangers of living alone in a new place. Surely Belle's company would help restore normalcy.

Before the service, Sophie had consigned her letters home to Joe, who was reasonably certain someone would be taking the post down the canyon within the next week. She was relieved they'd already been sealed before the bear attack. Her Kansas family didn't need that bit of news.

Sitting beside Belle on a sturdy carriage blanket, Sophie closed her eyes and tried to heed the droning voice of the reader. Her wandering mind snapped to attention at a challenging verse from Psalm 143: “Teach me to do Your will, for You are my God: may Your good Spirit lead me on level ground.” Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head. She needed God's guidance to walk on the right path, the one He intended for her. She had not yet made up her mind about Tate's proposal. Was tutoring the Lockwood boys where her “level ground” lay? Or was she beguiled by her need to be of use to the motherless little fellows? Would she run the risk of the boys' growing dependent on her and she on them? Complicating matters was Tate's busy life. Would he distance himself from his sons if she were engaged with them? A danger, since the very opposite needed to happen. Could she be an agent to bring father and sons closer together? Was their relationship even any of her affair?

She would happily obey God's will if she could be certain what He asked of her. One thing she knew with certainty: she could not swoop in from the outside and fix that family. She was confident she could serve as a tutor. But should she? In honesty, proximity to Tate could be disturbing. Something about his prickly persona touched her in confusing ways.

“Sophie?” She felt Belle elbowing her. “Services are over. You were deep in prayer, sister.”

Sophie leaned close to Belle and confessed, “Not prayer. Woolgathering.”

“Sometimes I think they're the same thing.”

Sophie pondered Belle's remark. “I'd never thought of it that way. Maybe God is present in our random thoughts.”

“Well, if He's not, He certainly should be.” Belle jumped to her feet. “Come on now. Let's get some food.”

In the course of the afternoon, Belle introduced Sophie to more of the valley folks. Some already knew about her; others barely concealed their shock that a lone woman would take up residence in such a place. Just as they headed out for the Harper home, Belle left her side and ran after a tall, wiry man with a long beard and a deep tan whom Sophie recognized as the talented tenor who'd led the hymn singing today. “Bill, wait up.” Belle paused to catch her breath and motioned Sophie to follow.

“Can't stop now, but you two gals can walk with me a spell if you're on your way home.” Just as Sophie reached the twosome, the man set off at a rapid pace. “Gotta get to my place in time to feed the animals.”

“This is my friend Sophie Montgomery. Sophie, this is ‘Wild Bill' Porter, one of the best mountain guides hereabouts.”

Without missing a step, Bill tipped his hat. “I've heard tell of you, Miss Sophie. And about how Belle has convinced you to try Longs Peak with her. A grueling task, not one for women to undertake.”

“Others have done it,” Belle challenged.

“Are you talking about Isabella Bird, who, rumor has it, practically had to be dragged up to the summit?”

“Don't forget about Addie Alexander and Anna Dickinson,” Belle said, reminding him of two other women who had made the ascent.

“That's hardly a convincing number,” Bill muttered. “And you fillies?” He eyed Sophie. “Look, she's just a little bit of a thing, and you, Miss Harper, are full of big talk.”

“We're going to do it.” Belle's tone was full of conviction. “With or without your help.”

The man stopped in his tracks and looked from one to the other. “You can't do it alone.”

Belle relented. “I know that. May we hire you as our guide?”

He stroked his beard. Sophie watched with bated breath as he considered Belle's request. “You.” He nodded at Sophie. “You're scrawny, but Grizzly tells me you're full of fight.”

Sophie squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “He's right. I will not quit.”

“Nor I,” Belle promised.

Bill shook his head. “Call me crazy. I'm making no promises today. But come late August or September, mayhap I'll consider pulling you girls up the peak.”

Before he took off, Belle leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek. “Done!”

“We won't let you down, sir,” Sophie added.

“No need for the ‘sir.' Just Bill.”

After he'd left them, Belle squeezed Sophie's hand. “He was the only guide who would have considered us.”

That night Sophie shared Belle's bed. They whispered about their hiking plans and then Belle fell asleep. Sophie, however, remained wide-awake, discomfited by the unfamiliar mattress and recurring images of Toby and Marcus. Toby, whose enthusiasm was contagious, and dear Marcus, who had sent her detailed information about the goddess Minerva. What should she do? Would agreeing to tutor them solve problems or create more? She rolled over on her side, staring out the window at a full, white moon. “God,” she whispered, “please. Show me Your will.”

* * *

Tuesday morning came, the day of reckoning. Sophie quickly finished her chores in preparation of the ride to Tate's place. She still had no idea what answer she would give him. Scary as it was, she was relying on God to send her a sign. When she had first settled here, she had needed the days of hard work and solitude to continue her healing and to contemplate the future. Now, though, she was finding the quiet days sometimes palled, and she was increasingly drawn to the people who had befriended her. From that standpoint, interaction with the Lockwood boys could be a tonic, but she would never accept a position simply for the company.

She took extra pains with her hair, braiding it and coiling it around her head. Still, the stray, unruly curls escaped as they always did to frame her face. Over her bloomers, she wore a denim skirt. A simple white waist and red jacket completed the outfit. Glancing around the cabin, she was arrested by the words on Lily's sampler, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart...and He shall direct thy paths.” Sophie shook her head, also remembering Sunday's psalm passage. She was to surrender—that was the message. She put on her hat, locked the door and headed for the barn. God knew all about her rebellious spirit. And now He wanted her to yield her will to Him? Well, maybe she could, but the question remained: What was His will?

Beauty trailed behind Ranger as they made their way to the Lockwood ranch. Sophie scanned the peaks ahead of her, longing to be high among them. With each strike of Ranger's hooves, she continued her prayer:
Lord, prepare my heart and show me the way.
By the time she dismounted in front of Tate's house, a calm had settled over her. Somehow she would receive her answer shortly.

* * *

Since breakfast, Tate had barricaded himself in his office, trying to bury himself in work. Yet even as he stared at the assayer's report, the figures failed to penetrate his brain, so addled was it by anticipating Sophie's decision. She had to say yes. If his will could coerce her, he would exercise it. But he knew her better than that. If anything, further pressure from him could be fatal to his ends. He was accustomed to getting his way—miners worked extra hours, bankers extended loans and ranch hands followed his orders to the letter. How could one tiny, redheaded female be so contrary?

He had requested Bertie to prepare a lavish lunch. He had seen that the boys were presentably dressed and had reminded them to be on their best behavior. Sitting back in his chair, he stared out the window. All he could do was let the day unfold as Sophie would direct.

Restless, he stepped to the window and studied the landscape. Aspen leaves shook in the breeze and sun glinted off the river. Then, in the distance, he spotted her approaching the bridge. He wondered how long it had been since she'd ridden sidesaddle. Yet even astride, she rode in an expert and ladylike fashion. This time she'd brought Beauty, who ran ahead of the horse as if scouting the trail. With dismay, he noted the rapid pounding of his heart. So much was at stake. He loved his sons. An education was vital. Surely Sophie wouldn't disappoint him. If she could face a charging she-bear, surely she could handle two young boys.

He watched her approach, fighting an unforeseen pleasure that rose amid his anxiety. When he observed her tying up her horse, he straightened his cravat, took a deep breath and left the sanctuary of his office. In the front hall, he was met by the clamor of barking pups and excited boys. “Papa, she's here!” Toby exclaimed, but to Tate's astonishment it was Marcus who threw open the door and greeted their guest with an exuberant, “Miss Sophie, we're glad you came. Did you like my report?”

“I did, indeed, Marcus.” She paused in the entryway, beaming at the boys. “What a delightful welcome! May Beauty come in? I'd love her to meet the puppies.” Just then Minnie circled her legs while Buster tugged at the hem of her dress.

“Yes, yes!” came the chorus of approval.

“Follow us,” Toby ordered, taking off for the living room.

Amid laughter and yipping dogs, Tate took Sophie's hat and cloak. “May I add my more sedate welcome?”

She glanced up at him, her eyes dancing above a smattering of pale freckles. “You may, indeed, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Luncheon will be served shortly, but for now, your presence is clearly required by two boys and three dogs.”

Tate leaned against a wall, observing the scene. Sophie sat on the rug in front of the hearth with the boys gathered around her, while Beauty lay a bit apart, her tail happily thumping on the floor. Both pups were crawling all over Sophie. He hoped they wouldn't soil her clothes, but any admonishment died on his lips as he studied the pleasure on his sons' faces. Fragments of conversation penetrated his thoughts.

“Look what Buster can do.”

“Minnie really is a wise dog.”

“I do believe my Beauty likes her new puppy friends.”

Unquestionably Sophie had been right about the pups. They had made a difference for both Toby and Marcus.

Bertie tapped him on the shoulder. “Luncheon is ready, sir.”

He clapped his hands to summon the group to the table, where a delicious potato soup awaited them. “Boys, you know the rule. Please confine the dogs while we are eating.” The usual groans greeted his directive, but they complied without complaint. As he seated Sophie, he was uncomfortably aware of a faint floral scent.

Marcus leaned forward, his spoon suspended halfway to his mouth. “Miss Sophie, did you know that once people thought the world was flat?”

“That's silly,” Toby blurted.

“I did know that, Marcus.” She turned to Toby. “Why do you think that's silly?”