A Family Found

“Please invite the womenfolk in. Maybe you men could start on the chinking. The wind whistles right through this place. I’ll put on a big pot of salt pork and beans for a midday meal.”

Mr. Tyler ushered in his wife and a young woman. “This here’s my sweetheart Martha and Dolly, my purty daughter-in-law. My son John and I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

Dolly was tall and slight, but Martha was as plump as her husband. With her dark hair coiled in a bun and her brown eyes snapping, the older woman looked the picture of health. “Sophie, our friend Grizzly couldn’t stop talking about you. He doesn’t know whether to think you’re brave or foolish comin’ here on your own.” She grinned at her daughter-in-law, then turned again to Sophie. “But Dolly and I know. We think you’re mighty brave and are gonna prove any naysayer wrong. One thing about the frontier—it may be rough and tough, but it won’t put a good woman down.”

Dolly’s flushed face glowed. “What you’re doing is something special.” She glanced around the room. “Now, then, set us to some chores.”

Martha put an arm around Sophie’s waist. “Before we start, we brought you somethin’ we think you need. Grizzly said you didn’t have one. C’mon. It’s out in the wagon.”

Sophie threw a shawl around her shoulders and followed the women. Dolly went to the wagon bed, leaned over and freed a wriggling mass of black-and-white fur. “Woman on her own needs company,” she said. The dog leaped from the wagon and ran in excited circles before coming to stand beside Sophie, as if the animal had known the identity of its mistress all along.

“She’s not much of a watchdog yet, but her shepherding instincts will protect you some,” Martha said. “We reckon she’s about a year old.”

Sophie was dumbstruck, not only with her lack of foresight in procuring a watchdog, but at the generosity and kindness of this family. She knelt on the ground beside the dog, scratching her behind the ears. “You are a beauty,” she whispered. “I’m sure we will be great friends.”

In answer, the dog’s tail beat a tattoo on the firm ground.

“Beauty.” Dolly looked speculative. “That has a nice ring to it.”

Sophie laughed. “It’s perfect. No ugly beasts for me, only this Beauty.”

The dog nuzzled her hand as if in agreement.

“I brought along some scraps for you to feed her,” Martha said.

Did these people think of everything? “Come in and give me suggestions for the cabin, and then I’ll set the beans on the stove.” Sophie was glad that she’d set beans to soak last night. After circling the interior of the cabin several times, Beauty plopped down in front of the fire and dozed. To Sophie, she looked as if she had always belonged there. The dog would serve as a welcome companion.

The women worked all morning altering, mending and washing curtains and bedding. Dolly had brought along some bright blue paint. She suggested painting the frames on the windows and the door to liven up the place. After the men had thoroughly chinked one wall, Martha and Sophie were able to hang a Montgomery family photograph, a sampler Caleb’s wife, Lily, had stitched for her and a small, colorful quilt made by her sister-in-law Rose. “Thank you,” Sophie breathed. “Having these things from home around me is a blessing.”

“We hope you will soon regard Estes Park as your home,” Dolly said quietly, looking at Sophie with affection.

Just before lunch, Beauty leaped up, ran to the door and began barking. Dolly grinned. “See? She’s useful already.”

“It’s the Harpers,” Martha said, turning to Sophie. “Harriet and Joe are a wonderful young couple, and I know you’ll enjoy Joe’s sister Belle. They operate the community store.”

Before Sophie knew it, all the chinks and the roof had been attended to, and everyone pitched in to prepare the soil for her garden. Later after the two families had disappeared into the twilight, Sophie reflected that rarely had she encountered such genuine helpfulness or met such enjoyable people. Particularly Belle. The moment she’d clapped eyes on the young woman, Sophie felt as if they’d always been friends. Belle was tall, with a ruddy, raw-boned face, a magnificent crop of black curls and dark eyes that sparked delight. Her first words to Sophie had been, “You’re my kind of gal, Sophie. All guts and nerve.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Sophie had said with a smile.

“You just wait. We’re going to have so much fun.” She turned to face the mountains. “See that one there?” She pointed to Longs Peak.

“Yes, you and I are going to climb it,” Sophie said before Belle could complete her speech.

“Girl, you took the words right out of my mouth.” She gave Sophie an assessing look. “You’re little, but full of grit. We’ll show those men what determined women can achieve. I’ve been waiting for a hiking partner. I’m glad God sent you to me.”

Sophie laughed. “I told Mr. Lockwood when I first clapped eyes on that peak that I would climb it. I don’t think he thought I was serious. But I am. I’ll enjoy doing it with you.”

Before the group finished their chores, Martha invited Sophie to ride over the next morning to their home for services. “We don’t have a real church or permanent pastor, but we all gather at our place when there’s a circuit rider. Tomorrow a reverend is coming from Lyons to preach.”

Figuring that would be a good start to familiarizing herself with the territory, Sophie got directions and agreed to come. She didn’t know quite how she felt about church. Ever since Charlie’s death, she’d had a tenuous relationship with God, but perhaps He had sent these kind people to her. Regardless of where they came from or why, they were a gift. As was Beauty, who lay beside her providing warmth and companionship.

* * *

It was a cool spring Sunday as she rode to church, and Sophie reveled in the scenery. Back in Kansas, she had continued attending services with her family in the hope that one day she would understand God’s purpose in taking Charlie from her. She continued to go through the motions of worship and daily Bible reading, but with no real expectation of receiving answers. So far, none had come, nor were they likely to come here. Yet her deeply ingrained faith made it impossible to turn her back on God.

It had been a joy to awaken this morning in a home with a solid roof and walls and with personalized touches all around her. Her eyes had been immediately drawn to Lily’s sampler, embroidered with flowers encircling the message from Proverbs.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart;

and lean not unto thine own understanding.

In all thy ways acknowledge Him,

and He shall direct thy paths.

Sophie appreciated the advice, yet it was difficult to follow, given the loss of Charlie and her own rebellious, questioning streak.

As much as she missed her brothers, she missed Lily and Rose more. Her sisters-in-law related to the pain of her loss in ways neither Caleb nor Seth could. Sophie suspected Lily had intended the sampler message as a daily reminder to her.

Riding beside the water that flowed along the valley floor, she noticed an impressive home set halfway up a hill across the river and enclosed by at least a mile of rail fence. Small spruce trees lined the road leading to the house. The few other dwellings she passed on her way to the Tylers’ were less impressive and often seemed to be the result of add-ons to an original cabin. A few appeared to serve as primitive lodging for summer visitors. The Tyler and Harper homes were situated along the river and, with their outbuildings, composed the nearest thing to a settlement in the area. A crude wooden sign at the Harpers’ read General Store and Post Office. About a quarter of a mile beyond was a large two-story home with a porch on three sides. From the horses and wagons gathered in the yard, she assumed she’d arrived at the site of the service.

Inside, she was effusively greeted by Martha, who ushered her to a bench. “Reverend Justus is about ready to begin.”

Sophie settled back, studying the congregation. In addition to the Tylers and Harpers, there seemed to be three or four other families. Small children sat on the floor or on their parents’ laps, and the room was warm with crowded bodies. Several eyed her curiously, but the minister began speaking before she could introduce herself. Rather more didactic and long-winded than she would’ve liked, the rangy preacher had a weathered face and deep voice. He declaimed for nearly an hour on Moses and the Ten Commandments. Sandwiched between two amply built women, Sophie was pinned in her spot. Finally the crowd stood and sang lustily, no doubt as relieved as she with being delivered from the sermon. A meal followed where she was introduced to other area residents.

Belle took her aside and, despite the cool temperature, the two settled on the front porch with their plates. “Isn’t this better than being jammed into that stuffy place?”

“We can always go in if we get cold.” Sophie took a bite of the cabbage and ham someone had provided. “This is a nice reward,” she said, licking her fingers.

“You mean for listening to Reverend Justus drone on?” Belle studied her, as if assessing whether her remark had shocked Sophie.

Sophie giggled. “He was rather full of himself, wasn’t he?”

Belle grinned in response. “Whoever heard of A-ron? I nearly laughed aloud every time he came to the name Aaron.”

“It’s a relief to know that with you, I can occasionally be irreverent—in the nicest sense, of course.”

“I was certain I’d like you the minute I set eyes on you.” Belle pointed at Sophie with her fork. “Here’s my question. I know we still have the chance of a late snow or two, but how soon will you be ready to go hiking?”

Sophie shivered, not from the cold, but from delight. “Whenever you say.”

“If we begin with easy treks, the weather shouldn’t be a problem. We can’t start too soon to get ourselves ready for the big one.”

“Longs Peak,” Sophie said, awed by the mere idea of standing on the summit.

“Longs Peak,” Belle echoed, holding out her hand to seal the deal.

After making her farewells, Sophie set out for home under a sunny sky. As Ranger trotted along, she counted her blessings. Joe Harper had assured her his store could provide her with milk and eggs, as well as other food and goods.

Lost in plans for the coming days, Sophie failed to see the two boys until she was right beside them. They stood on a wooden bridge throwing rocks into the icy, rushing river. One was thin and dark-haired, while the younger one was rosy-cheeked and chubbier. She deliberated whether she should stop. What if either of them slipped? She drew to a halt and dismounted. Yelling over the noise of the water, she approached them. “Are you two all right?”

The older one shrugged with indifference and threw another rock. The younger one turned toward her eagerly. “We’re seeing which of us can throw the farthest. Who are you?”

“I’m Sophie Montgomery. I just moved here from Kansas.”

“Where’s Kansas?” the talkative one asked.

“The next state east, dummy,” his brother said.

“Perhaps you’ll study Kansas in your geography lesson,” Sophie suggested.

“Lessons? We don’t have lessons, except when Papa helps us,” the older one said with a frown. “And that’s not often enough for me.”

“Who is your papa?”

The little one gestured toward the handsome house on the hill. “Tate Lockwood,” he said. “I’m Toby.”

Sophie extended her hand. “Glad to meet you, sir.” She faced the other boy. “And you?”

“Marcus,” he said, turning away to study the distant mountains.

“I know your father. He escorted me here from Denver.”

Toby looked at her with interest. “Where do you live?”

“A mile or so beyond here in an old cabin.”

“Can I come visit?” Toby asked. His brother rolled his eyes.

“Certainly. In fact, I’d enjoy it if you both came. I have a new dog I’d like for you to meet.”

“I’ll ask Papa.” Toby wriggled with delight.

“He won’t let us,” Marcus said.

“Why ever not?” Did Tate keep these boys under lock and key?

“He’s too busy to bring us.”

Sophie pondered her next move. Her invitation had been rashly extended. On second thought, she had no business insinuating herself into the lives of Tate Lockwood’s sons. Yet each in his own way seemed starved for attention. Tate might be more amenable if she visited the boys’ home. “Tell you what. If it’s nice weather on Wednesday, why don’t I bring Beauty and come see you. Be sure to tell your father. If it’s inconvenient, maybe he could get word to me.”

“He won’t care,” Marcus said in a tone that broke Sophie’s heart. “He’ll probably be glad to get us out of the way so he can work.”

So that’s the way it is. Sophie laid a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Busy fathers don’t have much time to play. But I do. I’ll plan to come just after lunch.”

“Whenever.”

“Yippee!”

After suggesting the boys continue their game on dry land and satisfying herself that they would do so, Sophie headed toward her cabin. Maybe it was missing her nieces and nephews, or the sadness in Tate Lockwood’s eyes he tried so desperately to conceal when he spoke of his motherless sons, or her own need for company, but she found herself looking forward to Wednesday. At the very least, these boys were hungry for approval and affection, something it was perhaps in her power to provide.

Her thoughts turned to their father. What would it do to a man to be spurned by his wife? To have full responsibility for two children? It was little wonder he had been reluctant to make any promises concerning their new friendship. One woman had wrecked his family and crushed his heart. Why should he welcome another in any capacity? She groaned. She’d promised those needy children a visit without considering Tate’s possible reaction. Would he regard her visit as kindness or interference? Only time would tell.

Chapter Four

The following day Sophie awakened to fresh snow blanketing the ground. Fortunately, by Wednesday the road had thawed enough for her to set out to visit Marcus and Toby. Ranger kept up a steady pace with Beauty following happily behind, although she frequently darted into the trees in search of adventure. This was Sophie’s first experience of the spectacle of a linen-white valley stretching as far as the eye could see, surmounted by mountains piercing the vivid blue sky with their icy fingers. It was as if she were riding through a crystal fairyland.

It was only when she crossed the river and started up the road to Tate’s home that her nerves began to jangle. He might perceive her visit to the boys as not only presumptuous, but unwelcome. Too late for second thoughts. She reached the hitching post, slid to the ground and tethered Ranger. Beauty followed her onto the porch and sat obediently until, after a deep breath, Sophie knocked. Hardly had she lifted her fist than the door swung open. Toby, atremble with excitement, stood beside a plump, pleasant-looking woman of indeterminate age. “You came!” he cried.

Sophie smiled. “We did. And here is Beauty as promised.” Toby leaned over and began talking softly to the dog. Sophie turned to the woman. “I’m Sophie Montgomery. I hope the boys told you I was coming.”

The woman reached for Sophie’s coat. “Indeed, they did. I’m Bertie Wilson, Mr. Lockwood’s housekeeper. Toby has been watching out the window for you.”

Sophie scanned the room, searching for Marcus. “The boys expressed interest in my new dog.”

Both women turned to observe Toby, who had led Beauty to the hearth and now sat on the floor beside her, one arm draped around the dog’s neck. “That friendship didn’t take long to develop,” Bertie whispered.

“I’m not surprised. Toby seems to be an outgoing little boy.”

“A treasure, that one,” Bertie agreed. “Now, Marcus...there’s another story.”

“Where is he?”

“Reading in his room. He’s one to stick to himself. Let me hang up your coat and then I’ll call him. I have some cookies and tea prepared for your visit.”

While she waited for Marcus, Sophie studied the room. A magnificent mountain sheep head was mounted over the stone fireplace. The furniture looked hand-hewn from local trees, and colorful woven cushions covered the settee and armchairs. A long, low table of polished wood sat in front of the settee. On top was a wicker basket of oversize pinecones, a stack of newspapers and a checkerboard. Off in an alcove was a library table and a tall bookcase filled with books and curious artifacts, among them a large geode, a polished piece of petrified wood and a bird’s nest. Not wanting to interrupt Toby’s bonding with Beauty, she moved to the bookcase and studied the titles on the spines: Gulliver’s Travels, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, several volumes of Pliny’s Natural History, Darwin’s The Origin of Species, Robinson Crusoe and—

“The boys told me to expect you.”

Sophie wheeled around to face Tate Lockwood, who stood in the doorway holding a ledger book, his face revealing nothing about his reaction to her presence. “I hope this is not an intrusion,” she said.

“It’s no bother for the boys.”

Sophie cringed. What was unsaid hung in the air—but it is for me. “I promised them they could meet Beauty—” she nodded toward the dog “—and it seemed easier for me to come here than for them to come to me.”

Before he could answer, Toby bounded over to his father, Beauty close behind wagging her tail enthusiastically. “Papa, see? Isn’t she a great dog?”

Tate eyed Sophie briefly before kneeling in front of his son. “Yes, Toby. She looks as if she has some shepherd in her.”

“Shepherds help drive sheep,” Toby explained, as if he were a canine authority. “Maybe we could get a dog, right, Papa?”

Sophie watched Tate’s shoulders slump as if the same thought going through her mind had just occurred to him. Why didn’t the boys already have a dog?

“We’ll see.”

“See what?” Marcus had entered the room and stood observing the scene.

Toby clapped his little hands. “Marcus, wanna get a dog?”

“I didn’t say yes,” Tate mumbled as he rose to his feet.

“But you will!” There was no denying Toby. “We could call him Buster.”

“That’s a dumb name,” Marcus said, maintaining his distance.

Sophie, sensing tension, turned to the boy. “What’s a better name?”

“Well,” the boy drawled, inching closer and eyeing Beauty, “something more original like...Seaman, Meriwether Lewis’s dog who explored the Missouri, or Bacchus, the Greek god of fun, or—”

“Nobody said there would be a dog to name,” Tate interjected.

“But nobody said there wouldn’t be,” Sophie argued before she could censor herself.

Once more Tate eyed her expressionlessly. “True.”

Thankfully, at that moment Bertie Wilson entered the room with a large tray. Toby ran toward the dining table at the other end of the room near the kitchen where she was laying out the food, but Marcus couldn’t move. Beauty had wrapped herself around his legs and was looking up at him adoringly. Slowly Marcus sank to his knees so the dog could lick his face. “You’re tickling,” the boy said and then giggled. It was one of the most welcome sounds Sophie had ever heard. She reckoned this was a boy for whom giggles were few and far between.

The sweet hot tea and spicy homemade ginger cookies were welcome after her cold ride. “You have a lovely home, Tate.”

“We like it.”

“Papa builded it and Marcus and me got to pick our bedrooms.”

“I especially like the bookcase. You have quite a collection here.”

Marcus turned to her with a curious expression. “Do you like to read?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Good,” the boy said before filling his mouth with another cookie.

“You are welcome to borrow some volumes,” Tate offered.

“Thank you. I may well do that once I get more settled.”

Sophie turned the topic to her upcoming hike with Belle Harper, but throughout the rest of their conversation, she had the uncomfortable feeling that Tate was sizing her up.

“Can you play with us?” Toby asked, interrupting the adult conversation.

Sophie smiled. “I suppose I could.”

“C’mon, then.” He fetched her coat and dragged it over to her. “Outside. I like tag. And Beauty can play, too.”

“It’s nearly time for us to go home, but a bit of outdoor exercise will do us good.” Surprisingly, without a word Marcus, too, put on his coat and followed them outside. Sophie paused in the door and looked back. “Tate?”

“Not today.”

The sun was high in the afternoon sky and the air, crisp and fragrant. It was difficult to play tag with only three people plus Beauty, so Sophie introduced them to Follow the Leader. Then just before she left, she asked if they’d ever made snow angels. Their blank stares said it all. Throwing discretion to the winds, she lay down atop the snow and moved her arms and legs. When she stood up, she turned to the boys. “Now, then, what does that look like?”

“An angel,” they said in unison.

“Your turn.”

Sophie stood over them, reveling in their delight. “I’m making huge wings,” Marcus said, while Toby giggled with the effort of moving his arms and legs simultaneously. Then they stood up and began pelting one another with snowballs, between fits of laughter.

Sensing a presence behind her, Sophie turned to face the house. Before a curtain slipped back into place, she had a glimpse of Tate. He’d been watching them. She wondered what had prevented him from joining them. Or didn’t he ever play? No use wasting time thinking about such things. The man was a mystery.

* * *

Tate couldn’t believe his eyes. Marcus was nearly cavorting, Beauty trailed Toby’s every step and Sophie Montgomery, why, she might as well have been a child herself. She joined the boys’ play with abandon, her cheeks pink from the cold, her red-gold hair escaping her stocking cap and her laughter audible even through the pane of glass. Now accompanied by Beauty and the boys, she approached her horse. He couldn’t hear what she was saying to his sons as she bent close to them, one arm around Toby and the other around Marcus. Marcus, who rarely let anyone touch him. Whatever she’d said, each nodded seriously in reply.

Tate turned back to his desk. Why hadn’t he joined them? Was he too good for Follow the Leader, or had he feared making a fool of himself in front of the maddening Sophie? Sophie, who in less than two hours had captivated his boys.

He’d barely sat down to pore over his papers when Toby burst into the room without knocking. The rebuke for the intrusion died on Tate’s lips when he saw how animated his son was.

“Papa, Papa. Marcus and I discussed. He told me to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” Over Toby’s head, Tate spotted Marcus lurking outside the door.

“’Bout the dog,” Toby said, approaching him and laying a small hand on his knee. “If we had a dog, we’d be real ’sponsible. We’d feed it and give it water and take it for walks and—”

Before Toby could gather more steam, Tate interjected. “Animals require a great deal of care. Not just for a day or a week. Always.”

“Always,” Toby intoned, his blue eyes, so like his mother’s, fixed on him. “We promise.”

“Marcus?”

The boy slunk into the room, not daring to look at him. The concern that so often occupied Tate’s thoughts returned in force. Was his own son afraid of him? Indifferent to him? Angry? Clearing his throat and knowing there was no argument to be made, Tate said, “Both of you are committed to caring for a dog?”

“Yes!” shouted Toby, while Marcus nodded.

“Well, then, I think what we should do—” he paused, prolonging the suspense “—is ask around the valley whether anyone knows of available pups.”

Toby clambered into Tate’s lap and captured his face between his hands. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”