Thursday morning before departing for Belle’s, Sophie dampened the coals in the woodstove, glanced once more around the now familiar and beloved cabin and then stood quietly for a moment, her hand resting on her Bible. She remembered vividly the lines that had been the inspiration for her Colorado journey: “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.” These “hills” had not failed her. She had found peace in the solitude, friendships for the making and two young boys who had given her purpose. In a way, tomorrow’s journey to the top of the world would be more one of homage than challenge. Uttering a soft prayer of thanksgiving, she shouldered her knapsack and left the cabin, knowing that regardless of what happened on Longs Peak, she would return a different person than she was today.
Beauty followed her to the Harpers’, where she would remain until Sophie’s return. Belle was ready when Sophie arrived, but pointed at the road beyond the barn where Joe was gesturing emphatically to two men, one of whom was Rupert Stowe, the pushy reporter. “They showed up about ten minutes ago, insisting on interviewing us. They’ve gotten wind of the timing of our Longs Peak adventure from some other hiker in our party.”
“I suppose short of hog-tying them, all Joe can do is delay them.”
“They won’t get far before others come to help Joe fend them off. He and Tate have planned for this eventuality.”
In the distance, Sophie spotted Jackson and John Tyler riding toward them. “Reinforcements are already on their way. Even if the newsmen follow us all the way to Bill’s, I doubt they could keep up with us on the mountain.”
“It might be fun to see them try,” Belle hooted as she mounted her horse. “Shall we leave them with a word?”
Sophie grinned. “By all means.”
The two rode up to Joe and the reporters, just as the Tylers joined the group. “Good morning, gentlemen,” Belle said, edging her mount uncomfortably close to the interlopers, who were then forced to back up a step.
“Do you want to be the first with the big story?” Sophie asked, staring down at them.
“Look at you! You’re a disgrace in those britches. You’ll get your comeuppance. Wait and see,” Stowe snarled.
“No, you wait and see,” Belle said. “We’re going to make history, and you can either celebrate us or paint yourselves as bigots.”
“Unless of course you’d like to try coming with us,” Sophie added with a mischievous grin.
Jackson intervened. “Never you mind, girls. These greenhorns don’t know who they’re dealing with here. Two mighty women who can run rings around them.” He doffed his hat. “Good luck to you.”
As the women trotted away, they could hear the argument erupting again as their defenders surrounded the two troublemakers.
“I could hardly eat this morning, I was so excited,” Sophie admitted.
“But you did, of course?”
“Of course. Fuel for the journey.” Sophie knew it was important to keep her emotions under control, but as she observed the passing scenery, dominated by the peak that drew her like a magnet, she was filled not only with purpose, but with an excitement unlike any she had ever known. She and Belle were really going to attempt this thing!
At midday they arrived at Wild Bill’s cabin by the trailhead and joined the rest of the hikers attempting the ascent, which included two citified-looking men, a portly mining executive from Colorado Springs named Longwood Baker, a rancher from the eastern part of the state, the same obnoxious Englishman they’d met on the trail earlier in the summer and a handsome outdoorsy-looking man who had the courtesy to greet them warmly as opposed to the others, who made a show of ignoring them. Wild Bill gathered them all before they set off on horseback to reach the boulder field camp by nightfall. “Here’re the rules. Do exactly what I say. Step where I tell you to step. If you tire and can’t go on, speak up. Nothin’ worse than folks underestimating this mountain. I don’t wanna be dragging anybody up or down. You’re all under your own steam, gentlemen.” He paused, recognizing his oversight. “And ladies.”
The rancher let his eyes roam over Belle and Sophie. “Not much worry about you two goin’ beyond the boulder field.”
“If there,” the mining executive chortled.
“I say. Unprecedented, the nerve of these women,” the Englishman snorted.
The outdoorsman spoke for the first time. “The proof will be in the pudding, gentlemen. I, for one, am willing to wait and see what these two fine women are capable of.”
Sophie nodded in appreciation just as Bill gave the order to move out. She and Belle had known they would be joining others in their summit attempt and had fully expected the kind of scorn to which they were being subjected. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that at least one of their fellow climbers had a streak of fairness. Belle and Sophie stayed near the end of the line as it wound its way upward through the forest and among the rocks looming on either side of the path Bill was blazing for them. Although the morning had been clear, clouds rolled in about three, followed by a brief downpour. The women had donned their rain ponchos in preparation, unlike some of the men who preferred to expose themselves to the elements. “I hope they’re not always so stupid,” Belle muttered. Other than Bill and possibly the man who had spoken up for them, Sophie had little confidence in their fellow mountaineers. Anyone could ride a horse to the timberline. Tomorrow would be a different challenge. She couldn’t wait.
* * *
By the time Tate got to the Harpers’, the immediate threat from the reporters had passed. Except for one thing. Joe handed Tate the latest Denver paper without comment. On the front page below the fold a headline read Female Folly to Hamper Longs Peak Party. Tate fumed as he read on.
The Misses Belle Harper and Sophie Montgomery in their misplaced zeal to undertake adventures suitable only to the stronger sex are jeopardizing the upcoming ascent of the famous Longs Peak. As if that were not sufficient scandal, their masculine attire is an affront to decency. Longwood Baker, wealthy Colorado miner, commented thusly: “We cannot afford to be slowed by these reckless females. It is irresponsible of our guide to have afforded them a place in our prestigious party composed of world-class mountaineers.”
More quoted boasts followed, along with accounts of successful hikes up the mountain, including the fact that only three women had previously attempted to summit.
“Three successful women,” Tate muttered as he read to the concluding sentence.
It is this reporter’s duty to greet the party upon completion of their descent and report to you, gentle readers, details of the ways in which these improperly clad, ill-prepared females compromised this summit attempt.
Tate checked the byline. “Who is this Rupert Stowe?”
“One and the same rascal who, along with his fellow snoop, has been trying to interview Belle. They figured out when the girls were taking off. This morning they were waiting to ambush them with questions and, frankly, taunts. Luckily I got to them first. Then Jackson and John, who’d spied them on the road, arrived and together we were able to persuade the men to desist.”
“So they didn’t disturb Belle and Sophie?”
Joe’s eyes glinted with amusement. “To the contrary, the gals disturbed them. Issued a challenge to join them on the trip up Longs.”
Tate felt himself relax. “Let me guess. The reporters weren’t that interested in firsthand news gathering.”
“No, but they made a beeline for the telegraph office, no doubt to communicate their latest on-the-scene report.”
“I don’t think they’re the last of the lot. On my ride over, I saw a party of five horsemen I didn’t recognize heading off on the trail to Wild Bill’s. There seems to be a great deal of interest in the ladies.”
“I can only hope some in their hiking party are less mean-spirited.”
“Truth to tell, Joe, other than Wild Bill, who seems to like the notoriety, they are going to have to rely on themselves. And I have the suspicion their fellow hikers are in for a huge surprise.”
“We know these two. Grit is their middle name. I would never count them out.”
“Nor would I. Still, I won’t breathe easy until they return safe and sound.”
“And triumphant,” Joe said, sticking out his hand to shake Tate’s. “You gonna be at the finish Saturday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Nor would Marcus and Toby. They think their Miss Sophie can conquer the world.”
Joe laid his other hand on Tate’s shoulder. “And just maybe she’s conquered you in the process.”
Tate felt a blush creep up his neck. “Time will tell.”
And so it would, he thought to himself as he rode home. If only he and Sophie could overcome their obstacles. He knew Sophie wrestled with her devotion to the memory of her Charlie and the possibility of her permanent return to Kansas, while he faced the difficulty of making himself vulnerable again and, beyond that, discovering if he was capable of loving another and being loved in return.
* * *
Just as the sun vanished behind the far mountains, Sophie, Belle and the others arrived at a clearing on the edge of the boulder field where the party would make camp that night. Of all the men, only the outdoorsy gentleman, who had introduced himself as Clark Ellicott, offered to help them pitch their tent. They politely declined and proceeded to get theirs set up before many of the others had finished. In fact, the miner and the city gents were proceeding clumsily with muttered oaths. Bill built a small fire and soon had a pan of beans and a pot of coffee simmering. The rancher slipped a flask from his coat pocket and took a healthy swig. “Won’t do to overindulge,” Bill drily observed.
Belle and Sophie sat primly by, eating their supper and observing the others swapping stories and slapping each other on the back in shows of bravado. “Most of them are scared,” Belle observed in a low voice.
“Especially Mr. Baker,” Sophie whispered.
“I’m thinking that instead of our being a nuisance, some of them may well be.”
“That one city fellow is already gasping like a beached trout.” Sophie reconsidered her own confidence. “It won’t do to become complacent just because we’ve trained and are acclimated to the altitude.”
“It’s going to be hard, Sophie. Very hard.”
“But exciting!”
Belle smiled in agreement.
Bill stood by the campfire. “This is not a night for revelry. You will rouse before dawn, eat and be ready to set forth at first light.”
Before retiring for the night, Sophie paused briefly to study the sky ablaze with starlight. It was as if heaven could be hers if only she could reach out and touch one of those stars. She hugged herself against the alpine chill. Charlie. You seem so close, yet so far away. But always in my heart.
Once inside the tent, she rolled up in a blanket, uncomfortably aware of the rocky ground on which she lay. Thus cocooned, she closed her eyes in what was a futile attempt to sleep. What was it that compelled her to try to summit? Undertaking the cause of emancipation for women? Her own stubborn determination to do what others claimed she could not? To experience the majestic scenery? All of those and none of them. In her heart, she knew why. Foolish as it might sound, she believed that once atop Longs Peak, she might be free of the burdens that had so long defined her.
She must have eventually dozed off, because the next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake. “It’s time,” Belle said in an awestruck tone.
Sophie sat up and echoed her friend. It was indeed time. Although she felt the acceleration of her heartbeat, she also experienced a calm sense of purpose. “Today is our day.”
* * *
Friday. The day. From his first glimpse of the sun, Tate had been fraught with nervous energy, unable to concentrate. Marcus and Toby had besieged him at breakfast. “Do you think they’ve started hiking?”
“How long will it take them to reach the summit?” Their questions only served to echo his own desire to follow the progress of the hiking party. Yet all they could do was wait until tomorrow when the group would descend from the timberline camp where they’d camp tonight after the summit attempt. He lingered at the table after the boys had gone outside with Buster and Minnie. When Bertie came to clear the dishes, she gazed at him with motherly concern. “She’ll be fine, sir. You’ll see.”
Not only Joe, but now Bertie. Was his affection for Sophie that obvious? “I know, but still, it’s an arduous trek.”
“She’s up to the task. I’m very proud of her.”
“As am I,” he said. At first Sophie’s advanced ideas about the role of women had shocked him. After all, he was the man who thought he had married the ideal wife—a socially adept hostess with charmingly conventional views who adoringly respected his authority. What did he get? Ramona. Sophie, on the other hand, was a tomboyish independent thinker with wit and intellect the equal of any man. She was by no means a woman to be tamed. He grinned at the improbability of that ever happening.
He left the table and walked to the library alcove, now bereft of the liveliness of Sophie’s presence. He was proud of her. She had the imagination, confidence and determination to undertake the most difficult of physical challenges. Beyond that, however, as evidenced by her care of his sons, she had a boundless capacity for love and compassion. He hoped that in the days following the Longs Peak climb he could find the courage to express his admiration of her. Admiration? That was hardly the word. He simply couldn’t imagine going through life without her.
* * *
Sophie was grateful for her sturdy, comfortable boots. It was painstaking work traversing the uneven boulder field covered with rocks of all sizes, as if a giant had randomly strewn them. She had to watch the placement of each foot, lest she turn an ankle or catch her toe in a crevice and trip. At times she had to skirt larger boulders or climb through them on all fours. At first glance the route to the Keyhole rock formation marking the beginning of the summit trail had seemed quite manageable. Now Sophie acknowledged the difficulty of estimating distance in such a vast, monochromatic environment. She could hear the gasps and grunts of her fellow hikers and the steady wheeze of Mr. Baker, who trailed her by twenty feet. The rancher seemed fixated on following Bill as closely as possible. As for the others, they streamed out across the field, progressing at a steady pace. The day was clear, and the early-morning sun warmed the back of Sophie’s neck. She pulled the brim of her hat lower and marched on. Belle, though not lagging, brought up the rear, more as a means of urging Mr. Baker along, although Sophie knew he would never claim to need such help.
Marmots scuttled through the rocks and overhead birds soared on the slight breeze. When Sophie stopped to look back at their camp, she was surprised how tiny the tents appeared to be. She noted that the summit, which had once looked so attainable, was much higher and farther away than she had figured. When they stopped at the Keyhole for a rest and water break, Belle sidled up to her. “I’m not sure Mr. Baker is going to make it. Look at his boots.”
Sophie winced in sympathy. They were brand-new, and the pompous man had made the mistake of removing one and peeling off his heavy socks. The blister bubbling up on his heel caused her to cringe. He would be lucky to get the boot back on, much less undertake the most difficult part of the hike. Meanwhile, Bill hunkered in quiet conversation with the more slightly built of the two city gentlemen, whose face was the color of pea soup. Bill put a hand on the man’s head and pushed it between the fellow’s knees. Then he stood and called out to the group. “This is it. If you are having any difficulty at all, I cannot permit you to endanger or delay others on our summit attempt. The air is thinner, the wind fiercer and the climbing far steeper from this point on. Mr. McConnell here—” he nodded toward the city man “—is suffering from altitude sickness and has elected not to proceed. However, I am unwilling to leave him alone. Anyone else ready to stay behind?”
No one answered. Sophie sneaked a peak at Baker, who continued staring at his foot as if it had betrayed him.
“Baker?” Bill’s voice was more command than question.
“I will not remain. It’s the place of one or both of these women to give up at this point. They have no business being here anyway.”
Sophie put a hand on Belle’s arm to forestall an injudicious remark.
Clark Ellicott stepped nearer Baker. “They would not be here if our guide did not consider them prepared for what lies ahead. You, sir, are the one who failed to foresee the discomfort of new boots. I propose you put your boot back on and walk a few steps.”
Belle nudged Sophie, both of them knowing what would happen.
Somehow the man forced his foot into the boot, but not without much unsuitable language. When he stood up and put weight on his foot, he howled.
Bill walked over, plucked a tin of ointment out of his pocket and handed it to Baker. “You are not going anywhere. Not while I’m your guide. Take this ointment, apply it to your foot and, as soon as McConnell recovers, make your way back to camp. We should join you mid-to late-afternoon.” Then without a backward glance, Bill motioned for the others to follow him. “Carefully,” he ordered as he led them forward.
The trail to the summit followed the west side of the mountain. The way was narrow and below them opened up a wide, deep gorge. In the distance, closer mountains crowded on the horizon. A gusty wind blew beyond the Keyhole. Sophie paused to swallow the bile that had risen in her throat. A misstep could prove deadly, as one might bounce over rocks and slide on scree clear to the yawning chasm floor. Then her training kicked in. Don’t look down. Follow the leader. Take it one step at a time. “You’re doing great.” From his position directly behind her, Ellicott encouraged her. “Let your pace become rhythmic. And don’t forget to breathe.”
Good advice, because Sophie had noticed greater difficulty in pulling air into her lungs in the thin air. “Have you done much mountaineering?” she asked to keep her mind off the perilous trail.
“Mainly in the Alps and the Adirondacks,” he answered.
“Where are you from?”
“New York. And you?”
Where was she from? Kansas? Colorado? “I’m in transition,” she finally responded.
They trudged on a few more feet. “Mountains have a way of clarifying things,” he said as if that was all one needed to know.
Preoccupied by the conversation, Sophie had failed to notice they were now going downhill, rather than uphill. “What in the world?” she muttered.
Ellicott must’ve heard her, because he said, “We have to go down before we can go up.”
She knew he meant those words literally, yet they took on greater significance when applied to her life. She looked ahead and saw that what he said was true. Bill halted the group at the point where their descent ended. “Before you lies some tricky climbing. Do not attempt anything foolish. Ask for help if you need it. Rests should be short. Do not sit down. Save your energy by gently pacing yourself.”
Belle came alongside Sophie and tilted her hat back to have a better view of the upcoming climb. “We’ve done some climbing like this. Just not as long or as steep. Success is going to depend on our perseverance.”
“We haven’t come this far to turn back.”
“Especially not when I heard that rancher fellow and McConnell’s friend guffawing and laying odds against our chances.”
Sophie glanced at the individuals in the party. “Our Englishman seems to be having difficulty despite his fancy gear. Every time he comes near me, he shakes his head and mutters, ‘Bother,’ as if we are the reason he’s struggling to keep up.”
Bill gave the order to begin the ascent, a winding path around the southwest side of the peak. “See you on top,” Belle said, before moving off.
“Good luck to you both,” Ellicott called as Sophie fell in behind Belle. She had known she would have to push past her discomfort. Her calves and thighs were burning and her breath sounded ragged. At this high altitude, the sun bore down, reddening her face, despite her wide-brimmed hat. One step, two steps...ten steps. She trudged mechanically, following wherever Belle trod. Visible ahead of them now was the summit. So close and yet such a rigorous climb lay between here and success. At that point Sophie blocked all other thoughts from her mind. Seventy-five steps...one-hundred twenty steps... The two-syllable rhythm she’d adopted seemed to be propelling her toward the overarching sky. Char-lie, Char-lie, Char-lie.
* * *
Tate knew he couldn’t spot the hiking party from his vantage point, but that didn’t prevent him from looking through the telescope at intervals. He had to get out of the house before nerves did him in. He went looking for the boys and their dogs and found them outside, marching around the lawn as if they were hiking. Toby held a long stick in his hand as a make-believe alpenstock. “How about a real hike?”
Toby grinned broadly. “In the mountains like Miss Sophie?”
“No, more like in the hills behind the ranch, where we can get a better view of Longs Peak.”
“But not of the mountaineers,” Marcus pointed out. “But okay. It’s kind of boring around here. We’re excited for tomorrow when we can go to the trail.” Tate knew that if he himself was apprehensive about Sophie, his sons would be equally concerned until they saw her again, safe and in one piece.
“Do you think she’s decided?” Toby inquired as they neared the top of the hill.
“To stay with us for the winter,” Marcus elaborated. “She’s a really good teacher. She listens. And makes lessons fun.”
“Yeah, I can remember what I learn really good.”
If only she would stay, Tate thought to himself. The boys needed her. Yet there still remained the obstacles of propriety and his own tenuous self-control where Sophie was concerned. If money were all it would take... Yet he knew her salary weighed lightly in her decision compared to the tug of her Kansas home.
The three found a large rock. They clambered to the top and sat staring at the majesty of Longs Peak. Tate handed them each a square of the corn bread Bertie had sent with them. Then out of the blue, Marcus began a conversation that stunned Tate. “Papa, Miss Sophie didn’t have a mother.”
Toby interrupted, “She died a long time ago.”
Marcus continued, “We don’t really have a mother, either.”
Tate dug his fingernails into the lichen atop the boulder, dreading what was coming.
Marcus looked up at the sky, then into the valley, as if he wanted his eyes to fall anywhere but on his father. “I gotta ask,” he said finally.
Tate held his breath.
“Why did our mother leave us? Did Toby or I do something bad? We must’ve, because most mothers don’t run away—”
Tate laid a steadying hand on the boy’s leg in the attempt to stem the flood of emotions threatening to pour from his normally stoic son. “It was nothing you did, nothing at all.”
“But she didn’t like us or she’d have stayed and been our mother.”
“Instead she left us,” Toby said forlornly. “She didn’t love us. I don’t remember her ever tucking us in bed like Miss Sophie did.”
Tate gathered each of them closer, and when he spoke, he willed away the tremor in his voice. “Your mother left us for a number of reasons, mainly because of decisions I had made that she found impossible to live with. I am the one who came west to try to make a fortune. She didn’t ask for that. She would’ve preferred to stay in the East and live a comfortable life. She could not share my enthusiasm for Colorado and wanted us to leave. My business was too involved and successful by then for me to do that. When you and she came to join me in Central City, she didn’t want to be there. Sometimes when people are very unhappy, they find it more and more difficult to cope with responsibilities.”
“Like us,” Marcus said flatly.
“Yes, like us,” Tate agreed. “Your mother has a delicate temperament and is easily made nervous, even to the point of illness.”
“I kinda think she didn’t touch me much, and she yelled a lot,” Toby said. “I thought all ladies were like that until Miss Sophie. She even gives me hugs.”
“Your mother needed to return to the East, boys, and I couldn’t.”
“So you had to keep us.”
“It wasn’t like that at all, Marcus. I got to keep you. No gold or silver strike comes close to being as important to me as you are.” Tate took a deep breath. “I love you, and all I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for you.”
Toby snuggled closer. “Miss Sophie. That’s what’s best for me.”
“I know, son. She is special.”
“That’s why she has to stay this winter,” Marcus pleaded.
“If that were within my power, boys, I would make it happen.”
“You can do anything,” Toby assured him.
Anything but make Sophie love me. I am no Charlie.
Marcus turned to him, excited. “I know what will make her stay. It’s simple. You can do it. Marry her, Papa.”
Toby clapped his hands. “Bully for you, Marcus.”
“Whoa.” Tate held up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s get the lady off the mountain. Then we’ll see.”
“That’s what you always say. ‘We’ll see.’”
“Marcus, some things are beyond my control.”
Marcus stared at him, his mouth quirking in a mischievous grin. “All right, then. We’ll see. And sometimes ‘we’ll see’ means ‘yes.’”
On the hike back to the house, Tate’s emotions vacillated between distress that his sons had thought they were to blame for Ramona’s abandonment and elation that the boys would welcome Sophie into their family. Passing the barn, Sam stuck his head out. “Two gentlemen to see you, sir. Major Hurlburt and a younger man.” He nodded toward the house.
Tate dismissed the boys to play stick ball, while he hurried inside. Robert, here? And another? Sure enough, when he entered the living room, Robert and a handsome, fit, younger man rose to their feet. “Robert, welcome. I didn’t expect you. Is anything amiss?”
Robert strode across the room and shook Tate’s hand warmly. “Not at all. We have come to witness the triumph of Sophie’s mountaineering feat.” He turned to the other man, whose warm hazel eyes were fixed on Tate. “Son, I would like you to make the acquaintance of Caleb Montgomery. He’s come all the way from Kansas to cheer for his sister.”
Sophie’s brother smiled. “And to take her home. Despite her assurances to the contrary, I do not think she could endure a long winter by herself in this environment. She loves it here, of course, but I’m here to talk some sense into her.”
Tate felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. Of course. It made perfect sense. Her family loved her. They would not want her to suffer hardship. His mind raced with objections. He would not have long to make his case to Sophie, if there was even a case to be made now. Gathering his wits, Tate finally offered Montgomery a welcome and bid Bertie bring some refreshments.
He learned that Sophie had written the Hurlburts with the date of the summit attempt. At Caleb’s request, Robert had telegraphed him. Caleb explained that the family, worried both about Sophie’s groundbreaking hike and her winter plans, had designated him to convey the family’s love and concern. The two men had ridden over from Dunraven’s hotel, where they were staying. After fixing on an hour to come by the next day for Tate to lead them to the base of the trail, they left. Tate slumped into a chair. Montgomery had seemed so at ease, even pleased to meet him and discuss his plans for Sophie. Tate wondered if they suspected the toll that extending hospitality had taken on him when all he wanted to do was cry out, “No!” What chance would he have to influence Sophie’s decision in light of the arguments of her loving family?