After agreeing to tutor the boys, Sophie had remained at Tate’s long enough to make a list of needed books, maps and supplies and to receive overwhelming affirmation when Tate told Marcus and Toby the good news. Toby had hugged her exuberantly while Marcus stood back, smiling shyly, until she was just about to leave. Then he stepped forward to shake her hand. “Miss Sophie, I believe you will be a most effective teacher.”
“I shall do my best for you and Toby,” she said.
Tate handed Sophie her hat and cloak. “Your best will be of great benefit to the boys.” He caught her eye, and in that glance, communicated his relief. Outside, he helped her mount, although he knew she needed no assistance. Holding the reins, he looked up at her. “‘Thank you’ is hardly adequate.”
“I’m doing it for the boys,” she said rather more sharply than she’d intended.
“Yes.” He studied his feet. “For the boys.” Then he turned over the reins, and she wheeled Ranger toward home, the forlorn sound of for the boys echoing in her ears.
Riding along, she was oblivious to the gray clouds forming over the mountains, so consumed was she by the enormity of her decision. Dear God, are You sure I have this right? She had never taught anyone, never even considered such a path. Although most of her fellow students at the female academy had been preparing to teach, she had buried herself in her studies primarily to distract herself from her grief. Lessons in pedagogy had held little interest for her then. And now? How could she possibly live up to Marcus’s expectations? Or address Toby’s curiosity?
Yet, at the moment of decision, God had sent her a sign, not a starburst or thunderbolt, but rather an all-encompassing peace within her heart. Playing with the puppies and discussing theories about the earth had filled her with both excitement and a sense of...well, purpose. She had seen the longing in the boys’ eyes and had known that, whatever her inadequacies or reservations, she would do her best not to disappoint them.
Beneath her, Ranger tensed—and it was then she noticed lightning across the valley. She kicked him into a canter, hoping they would arrive at the cabin before the heavens opened up. In the race for home, she found herself wanting to escape Tate’s ranch—or, more specifically, Tate. Marcus and Toby were one thing; Tate Lockwood was something else altogether. Despite her determination to let God guide her, she had fought against tutoring the boys, but not because of them. Grimacing, she admitted her reluctance was born out of the unsettling realization that she was attracted to the handsome, complicated Tate Lockwood. Surely that was not part of God’s plan for her. God understood she had known one true love—Charlie. Then amid an awful thunderclap, Grizzly’s words rang in her ears: I’m gonna be aprayin’...for the Lord to send you another man to love. She remembered protesting such an absurdity—and Grizzly’s admonishing her to leave everything to God and to understand it was not her needs that mattered, but what she could give.
She frowned. Why did she have a disturbing feeling that she might have something to give Tate? Confusion and concern consumed her all the way home.
Ranger arrived at the barn just as the first raindrops fell. By the time Sophie unsaddled him, wiped him down and poured out his oats, a cloudburst had descended. She raced for the cabin and moved directly to the woodstove to warm her hands. After stoking the fire and adding wood, she took off her outer garments and wrapped up in a shawl. She knew storms arrived suddenly in these parts, generally in the afternoon. She should have started for home sooner. She laughed derisively. She should have done a lot of things, none of which would involve Tate Lockwood, whose wariness was often belied by the yearning in his soulful brown eyes. Well, there was no undoing her promise, but she vowed to keep her professional distance from the master of the house.
She sank into the rocker. No doubt about it, though, she did love the boys, who tugged at her heartstrings and reminded her of her precious nieces and nephews in Kansas. She laced her fingers in prayer. God, I am Your servant and will go where You lead. Forgive my impertinence, but are You sure You know what You’re doing?
* * *
Tate had left for Leadville the day after Sophie had agreed to tutor the boys, but not before he’d charged Sam with the errand of going to Denver to obtain the supplies she required. Now homeward bound after eight days away, he realized it had been a relief to travel on business without the nagging worry of the boys’ education. Now Sophie’s presence would afford him more freedom from the confinement of the ranch. As much as he’d resented the burden of escorting her from Denver, she had proved a godsend. He had actually been able to enjoy the ride to Leadville and his meetings with prospectors and metallurgists. He was excited by the possibilities of a growing silver boom and the opportunities for profit available to those who, like him, had funds to invest. Wryly, he reflected on his parents, who had scoffed at his Western ambitions and had told him he would never amount to anything if he left the East. He wondered if he would have taken any satisfaction in proving them wrong had they still been alive to notice—if they would, in any sense, have been proud of him and the uses he was making of his inheritance.
No matter. He took pride in his success. He was able to provide his sons with a bright future, especially now that Sophie would be teaching them. On this ride home, his thoughts had often turned to her. Too often. He would never forget the warmth in her eyes when she finally agreed to tutor Marcus and Toby. Although they would, of necessity, be spending time together, he needed to guard against becoming personally dependent on her. He had admitted to himself from the beginning that despite her unconventional ways, she was appealing, challenging—and enchanting. He wished he could focus on her intransigence instead of on his memory of the beautiful, spirited young woman in a stunning blue satin gown he’d met in Denver.
Arriving at the ranch, he was eager to see the boys and hear how the tutoring was progressing. He burst into the house and called out, “Marcus! Toby!” He was greeted by silence. He threw his hat aside and strode into the living room—empty. In the library alcove he found a map of the valley open on the table alongside two slates. “Bertie?” He was walking toward the kitchen when the housekeeper came rushing downstairs, a load of linens in her arms.
“Sir? We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“I was eager to see the boys. Where are they?”
“Miss Montgomery took them on what she called a ‘nature excursion.’”
Nature excursion? “I see. When are they expected home?”
“I don’t know, but I would imagine this afternoon in time for her to return to her cabin before dark.”
“Very well. I will be in my office.”
He fumed. He didn’t want to go to his office. He didn’t want to be cooped up wondering where his sons were or what the baffling Miss Sophie was up to. Pacing the floor, he decided to go find them. To evaluate what was going on. Nature excursion? What did that have to do with the classics? With mathematics?
He grabbed his hat and set forth to find his sons and assure himself of their well-being. After all, their tutor had recently barely escaped mauling by a bear.
* * *
Sophie had set up headquarters on a flat outcropping and assigned each of the boys a plot of ground to serve as their “laboratory.” The goal was for each to sit quietly for fifteen minutes and record their observations. Marcus had fallen swiftly to the task, but Toby had required gentle guidance. In the past week, Sophie had come to understand that while Marcus thrived on intellectual challenges, Toby needed to be caught up on reading, writing and arithmetic basics. She rather imagined he had charmed previous tutors instead of taking his lessons to heart. While they worked quietly, she, too, studied her surroundings, so different from Kansas. Colorful mountain flowers bloomed in nooks and crannies causing her to marvel at their beauty, variety and resilience—alpine fireweed, forget-me-nots, mallow and buttercups, but none so arresting as the delicate columbine. She consulted her watch and called for the boys to bring their notes and gather for lunch and discussion. While they made their way to the rock, she unwrapped the hard-boiled eggs, ham and biscuits Bertie had prepared for their lunch.
“That was hard,” Toby said, presenting her with his smudged paper.
“Hard? Nor for me,” Marcus boasted.
Sophie laid a restraining hand on the older boy’s shoulder. “What made it difficult, Toby?”
“Sitting still for so long. Being quiet. Thinking up what to write down.”
“Yes, scientific observation requires discipline. Did you notice anything you might not have had you merely walked across your plot?”
Toby shrugged. “Prob’ly.”
Sophie distributed the food. “While we eat, let’s talk about what we each noticed and whether what we saw raised any questions. I’ll start. I found a tiny, white mountain flower poking out of a rock. I wonder how it got there.”
“I think—” Marcus began before Sophie raised an eyebrow to forestall his comment.
“Toby, how would you explain that? Do flowers grow out of rocks?”
“Rocks aren’t alive.”
“Correct. So how would a flower get there?”
Toby bit into his biscuit, frowning in concentration, while Marcus squirmed eagerly beside her, but said nothing. “From a seed, I guess.”
“And how would the seed get there if the rock didn’t produce it?”
The boy chewed thoughtfully.
“Marcus, could you give your brother a hint?”
“What might carry a seed to this place?”
Toby’s eyes lit up. “A hiker, maybe, or an animal.” He stared into the distance before grinning in understanding. “I think the best idea is a bird. He could pick up seeds in his beak and spill some as he flew along. Birds eat seeds, you know.”
Sophie clapped her hands. “That’s a fine scientific conclusion.”
“Con-clu-shun?”
“A reasonable answer to a question based on careful thought and observation.”
“I saw some things,” Toby said with newfound interest. “A little trail in the dirt.”
Marcus could refrain no longer. “We have pinecones at home, and I found another and wondered how it was formed.”
“Where might we find answers other than by observation?”
“Books!” both boys answered at once.
“And experts we might meet,” Marcus added.
Sophie finished her hard-boiled egg and took a sip from her canteen. “All right now. Show me your list of observations and then let’s begin thinking of questions for which we might research answers.”
Engaged in discussing the project, none of them heard a rustling in the bushes until Tate burst out of the brush, his face red with exertion. “What’s going on here?”
Sophie cringed at his accusatory tone. She rose to her feet. “Lessons.”
“It seems more like a picnic to me.” He glared at Sophie. “I presume there have been no bear sightings.” Before she could answer, he leaned over and picked up a piece of paper on which Toby had drawn a bird flying over rocky ground. “And this? Tomfoolery.”
Noticing Toby’s quivering lip, Sophie took the picture from Tate and shot him a cautioning look. “Quite the contrary. This is Toby’s scientific conclusion concerning the manner in which seeds are distributed over varying terrains.”
Marcus thrust out his detailed sketch of the pinecone he’d discovered. “We are taking this home to study conifers.”
Tate’s initial temper seemed to fade, but he still looked confused. “This outing is not what I had in mind when I engaged your services.”
“And what did you have in mind? Mere book learning without actual exposure to the world in which we live—the world that is our laboratory?”
He studied her as if she, like other specimens, had been found under a rock. A mixture of emotions crossed his face, but finally he merely shook his head and muttered, “Most unconventional.”
“And you expected less from me?” She struggled to conceal a grin. “Trust me, Tate, what is going on here is in the name of education. We must learn from observing everything in our environment. And that does, indeed, include field study as well as books.” She faced her two young charges. “For now, gather up your things and walk back home with your father.” She sent Tate a warning glance. “Along the way, tell him what you observed this morning as well as pointing out what you observe on the walk home.”
“I already spotted that hawk.” Toby pointed toward a tall tree. “See, Papa. Maybe he dropped the seed.”
Tate glanced skeptically at Sophie, before turning back to his son. “What seed?”
And the three walked off, Toby jabbering and Marcus offering explanations. Perhaps Tate was learning from his sons that education can happen anywhere at any time. His mistrust of her motives had stung. Yes, she was new to her role, but before he confronted her, she had thought the lesson was going well. Extremely well. She trailed along behind them and only occasionally did their chatter intrude upon her thoughts. She could justify her lesson from the standpoint that her students should not always be cooped up, but she was also forced to admit she had not yet had time to digest the academic materials Sam had procured for her in Denver. In her next session with the boys, she would assess their readiness for the lessons she had in mind and begin working with Toby on his reading. That ought to satisfy their father.
When they all arrived back at the house, Tate disappeared into his office. Masking her irritation, Sophie continued discussing the boys’ observations; then together, they made a list of questions for further inquiry. How is a pinecone formed? Why do boulders break apart? How do plants and animals survive cold winters?
After dismissing the boys to play with the puppies, she straightened the library table and found Bertie in the kitchen. “I’ll be on my way. Thank you for the delightful picnic fare.”
“My pleasure. When will we see you again?”
“I will be hiking for the next two days. Then I’ll return. Meanwhile, I’ve given the boys some assignments. In my absence, perhaps they can spend more time with their father.”
The housekeeper pursed her lips. “One can hope.”
Sophie heard resignation in Bertie’s voice. Determined to remain cheerful, she said, “He has just returned from a long journey. After he rests, he will surely give them his attention.”
Bertie’s sigh followed Sophie as she went to get her wraps. As she was putting on her hat, she heard footsteps, and when she turned around, Tate was standing there studying her. From his impassive face to his clenched hands it was impossible to guess what he might say. When he finally spoke, he surprised her. “I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
She had no idea what his apology had cost his pride, but she was grateful for it. “It is not my place to forgive you, although you are welcome to forgive yourself.”
He took one step toward her, and despite her rapidly beating heart, she was determined to stand her ground. “You are right. The sphere of learning is broad, indeed. I shouldn’t have assumed a frivolous purpose for your outing or implied you had put the boys in danger. On our walk home, they quite amazed me with their perceptions.”
She stared into the depths of his brown eyes, afraid of losing herself there. “You are not a man for whom apologies are easy.”
“Another one of your ‘scientific’ observations?”
Looking at him, she thought he might actually be on the verge of a smile. “That...and a strong hunch.”
“I fear you are coming to know me rather well.”
“And to like you.”
She had no idea she’d uttered those words aloud until he murmured, “And I you.” After a long moment that grew exponentially more uncomfortable, he stepped back and held her cloak for her.
Flustered, she sought comfort in the mundane. “You shall find us working from books next time. You are welcome to come and oversee.”
A softer expression replaced the intensity in his eyes. “You do not require supervision. Proof of the boys’ learning will come soon enough. Good day, Sophie.”
When the door closed behind her, she stared off into the distance, more confused than ever. The man was an enigma.
* * *
“How’s the tutoring going?” Belle asked the next morning as they set off on a rugged trail with a steep rise in elevation.
Sophie, trudging behind her friend, inhaled deeply. “It’s too early to tell, although both boys seem enthusiastic and willing to learn. I still can’t believe I allowed myself to be talked into the position.”
“Tate Lockwood can be quite persuasive when it’s to his advantage,” Belle said drily. “And getting you to tend to his boys’ education will relieve him of the responsibility.”
Sophie took a few more steps. “You sound critical of him.”
“I haven’t walked in his moccasins, as the saying goes, but those motherless boys don’t need an uninvolved father.”
“It’s my perception that beneath his stern exterior he cares deeply for them.”
Belle paused, leaning on her walking stick to catch her breath. “Perhaps you can bring some of that paternal love out in the open.”
“Me?”
“Face it, Sophie. You are a lively, caring young woman. Even Tate can’t help but notice and respond to you. I figure you will lead him into a more loving relationship with Marcus and Toby.”
“My, that’s quite an assignment.” Yet even as Sophie doubted her abilities to effect such a change, she remembered the earnestness of Tate’s recent apology.
Belle waved her arm and they resumed their hike. Along the way, Sophie examined her surroundings. The gnarled junipers that resembled old men, the stately spruce spearing toward the sky and the industrious chipmunks scampering from rock to rock in search of food. Each time she and Belle rested, she was transfixed by the rocky peaks. Iced by snowy crevices, they gleamed in the sun like nature’s El Dorado.
In the early afternoon when they reached the timberline, Sophie shivered in delight. Above and beyond were boulders and rocks that bespoke of time eternal. Looming in the distance, even higher, was massive Longs Peak. Belle interrupted her thoughts. “There it is, sister. Magnificent, isn’t it?”
“I can imagine the thrill of setting foot on the summit. Such a triumph shouldn’t be reserved for males.”
Belle handed Sophie a piece of jerky. “Are you sure you want to make the attempt?”
“Do you doubt my abilities?”
“No, but now that you’ve gained some hiking experience, it’s your commitment of which I must be assured. The ascent is arduous and subject to unanticipated danger.”
It was only reasonable that Belle satisfy herself regarding Sophie’s motives and will. Her friend was undoubtedly trying to prepare her for rigors of which she herself was ignorant. “I would be foolish to disregard the challenges of the ascent, but it is those very challenges that make me even more determined.”
“Well, then, thanks to Wild Bill, we will set our sights on a grand adventure.” Belle sat down on a protruding rock. “Beyond the physical challenges, are you prepared for the disapproval, even censure, we may reap for ourselves?”
Sophie looked down at Belle, in whose eyes she read the importance of her compelling question. “You think two young women climbing to the summit of Longs will result in an outcry?”
“I don’t think. I know. Word will get out. The press may even descend, and naysayers will be gleefully waiting for us to fail.”
Sophie had to admit she had given little thought to the repercussions from what she viewed as both an adventure and a showcase for women’s capabilities. She laid a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “If not us, then who? I will not falter, Belle, and if real or symbolic rocks are thrown, then so be it. Nothing worthwhile was ever achieved without risk.”
Belle covered Sophie’s hand with her own. “All right. It’s the two of us against the world.” She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want the uproar we may cause to come as a shock to you.”
“Thank you, Belle.” Sophie studied the sky, telltale wisps of cloud clinging to the farthest peaks. “Looks like we need to head for our horses.”
On the descent, they were accosted by two men who stood blocking their path and eyeing them with distaste.
One, dressed in the tweedy alpine garb of a tenderfoot, muttered to his companion. “I say, old chap, who are these wild women?”
A bearded giant of a man, apparently the guide, snorted. “Hussies who think they can brave the treacherous heights of Old Man Mountain.”
“Hussies!” Belle exploded. “Virgil Dennis, you know very well, I am not a hussy.” She turned to Sophie. “Nor is my companion, who happens to be the tutor of the Lockwood boys.”
“That’s supposed to make it right?” The guide rolled his eyes in disgust.
“Where I come from,” the first man drawled in his aristocratic British accent, “upright, civilized women do not wear...uh—” he raked his eyes over Belle and Sophie, clad in their hiking bloomers “—masculine garments. Most irregular.” He sniffed as if at some noisome odor. “Pray tell, do permit us to pass.”
“Nobody’s stopping you,” Belle said with a scorching look.
“And where we come from,” Sophie added, “men are not so rude and narrow-minded.”
“Then you don’t come from around here,” the man called Virgil Dennis barked. “You’re both a disgrace.” He urged the Englishman forward. As the two passed Belle and Sophie, Dennis muttered under his breath, “Don’t be thinkin’ the likes of me will help get you out of any trouble you get yourselves into.”
“And a good day to you, too,” Belle snorted, throwing Sophie an I-told-you-so look. After they had put considerable distance between the men and themselves, Belle commented, “That, my dear hiking companion, is the least of what we can expect from the populace when word gets out concerning our Longs Peak aspirations.”
“I don’t know about you, but their censure has only hardened my resolution. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than for us to make a statement by waving a flag from the summit.”
Belle stopped and held out her hand to Sophie. “You carry it to the top, and we’ll both wave it!”
Sophie saluted her friend. “That’s a deal.” Then looking down at herself, she couldn’t help it. She burst into giggles. “I think it was the bloomers that did those fellows in.”
Belle’s accompanying laughter echoed across the valley below.