Sophie’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?
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.