LITMIR.BIZ

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boxes in the two wagons and strapping them down. Tate dismounted and gestured to them. “Miss Montgomery, meet my hands Curly, Sam and Pancho. They’ll be our traveling companions.”

      Was there a hint of mockery in his tone? Well, never mind. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Dismounting, she walked to the first wagon to satisfy herself that her belongings and provisions had been loaded and secured.

      “Everything meeting your specifications?” Lockwood loomed over her, the brim of his hat pulled low.

      “Quite.”

      “Tonight we’ll stay at a hotel in Longmont, but once we start on the trail, there’s no turning back.”

      “I certainly hope not.”

      With a grudging “Good,” he conferred with the men, who climbed into the wagon seats. “Saddle up, miss,” the one named Sam called to her. She noticed that all four men were armed with both rifles and pistols.

      They had covered a few miles, Lockwood in the lead and her trailing along behind him ahead of the wagons when, without looking at her, he said, “It’s a rocky and demanding climb to the park.”

      “So I’ve heard.”

      “I doubt anything you’ve read or been told will have prepared you adequately. Robert tells me you have rented a cabin in Estes Valley sight unseen. I assure you it will lack the amenities to which you’re accustomed.”

      While she fumed under his patronizing attitude, they rode for a time in silence until he spoke again. “The mountains are no place for a lone woman such as yourself.”

      There was no holding back. “I beg to differ. As I hope you will come to recognize, I am not just any woman. Nor am I bothered by being solitary or lacking creature comforts.”

      By way of acknowledgment, Tate merely grunted. Except for pointing out landmarks, he said little until they arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon. “I’ll see to the horses and wagons,” he said after she dismounted. “Get a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it.”

      When Sophie inspected her lodging, she quickly realized amenities were, indeed, being left behind. Saddle sore, she ate a bowl of bland stew, noting that there was only one other woman in the company gathered in the public room. Too weary to be sociable, she retired early and, despite her excitement over what the morrow would bring, fell into a deep sleep.

      * * *

      Tate Lockwood greeted her in the dawn with curt advice. “Bundle up.”

      Sophie buttoned her heavy coat, wrapped a woolen scarf around her neck and clapped her weathered felt hat on her head. Before long, they left the flat land and began climbing. She reveled in the piney smell and fresh air. As the canyon narrowed and the trail bordered the river, she watched in wonder as the cascading water from the high peaks, laden with ice and snow runoff, splashed across rocks, creating a thrilling music. At each turn of the trail, a new pleasure awaited—the raucous cry of a mountain jay or the sight of a graceful doe bounding across their path.

      When the sun was high overhead, they reached a spot where huge boulders bordered the river. Lockwood signaled a halt. Sophie was glad to dismount, remove her coat and stretch her limbs. The hands lounged on the ground to eat lunch. She settled on a flat rock beneath a spruce tree and pulled out the bit of roast and potato from the dinner at the Hurlburts’. Lockwood hunkered a few feet away, his dark brown eyes intent on her. “Bearing up?”

      “I assure you, Mr. Lockwood, that I am managing quite well and that if I require assistance from you or the others, I will not hesitate to ask.”

      “Hmm.” He stood and unfolded the oilskin holding his food. “From this point, the ascent is demanding, treacherous in places, especially this early in the season.”

      Was he trying to scare her? “I shall follow your expert lead.”

      He bit into a piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully, but saying nothing. Sophie found him intriguing—a man comfortable in different worlds, yet guarded, as if he avoided intimacy and rarely exposed his inner thoughts. He was handsome in a chiseled sort of way, and she could see how some women might find him attractive. She wondered about his wife and sons. Perhaps his wife would provide her with some female companionship during her stay in the mountains. From her reading, she understood that there were few women there and that she, as a single woman on her own, would be an oddity. She looked forward to meeting the woman who had overcome Tate Lockwood’s reserve.

      “Usually we can make this trip in one day, but ice will slow us from this point on. Best get going if we’re to make the valley by nightfall.” He refolded the oilskin and put it in his pocket, then took off his hat and ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair. “’Course, if we encounter delays, the ground will be your bed.”

      “That will be a comfort after the long ride.”

      She thought she heard him snort as he walked away. As if she hadn’t slept under the stars on every cattle drive she’d ever been on. The prudent course of action under the circumstances was to keep her mouth shut, difficult as it was to do, and show the man she was equal to any hardship. One thing was certain: she was not a conventional woman, whatever that might be.

      * * *

      Much as he’d hoped to make it home from Longmont in one day, Tate wasn’t surprised when that didn’t happen. At several points they had been forced to push the wagons over icy spots, and once, they’d even had to hitch two teams together to haul each wagon around points where avalanche debris had blocked the trail. It had been a grueling day, but to his surprise and relief, Sophie Montgomery had been more help than burden.

      Easing his aching muscles, Tate lounged by the fire idly watching sparks ascend into the night air and fade into the darkness. Curly, Sam and Pancho were rolled up in their blankets beneath one of the wagons. Miss Montgomery had carefully prepared a bed of pine boughs under an overhanging rock ledge and had lain down and covered herself with her bedroll blanket. Despite the campfire, the evening was cold. Earlier, he’d noticed her pulling her coat tighter and often reaching her gloved hands toward the warmth of the flames. If she thought it was cold now, wait until she reached her cabin at 7,500 feet above sea level. She probably had no idea they would be lucky to reach Estes Park before another spring snow blanketed the mountains. He hoped to deliver and store the provisions before that happened. Over the winter and early spring, snows had kept him and his men from getting to Denver, although he had been able to work in one quick trip down the canyon to Lyons.

      Crossing his legs, he picked up his tin cup and took a welcome sip of hot coffee. He hoped Marcus and Toby would like the books he’d picked out for them in Denver. Very soon he should hear from the Ohio tutor he’d engaged for his sons. There was no school in Estes Park. His boys loved the place, but he himself was no great shakes as a teacher. He didn’t want them to grow up without an education, yet it wouldn’t do to send them off, even if he knew of a suitable place for them. They’d had enough of change and loss in their young lives. Leaving their home was not an option. This prospective tutor, a recent graduate of Oberlin College, had solid academic credentials and claimed to crave a mountain adventure. However, thumbing through the mail he’d picked up in Denver, Tate had seen no correspondence from the young man, despite the fact he was scheduled to arrive at the end of May.

      Throwing the remainder of his coffee into the fire, he got to his feet, knowing from the position of the moon that he needed to get to sleep. The haul from here to the park would demand grit. He turned to study the small form huddled beneath the blanket, shaking his head. She might be dressed in drab, utilitarian clothes, but there was no hiding her femininity. He wondered what had prompted this young woman to undertake not only this trek, but a prolonged solo stay in the mountains. Did she, too, have demons chasing her? Well, it was none of his business.

      Before he settled under the second wagon, he wrestled with himself. Miss Montgomery, being so small, might be cold, despite her blanket. By morning the temperatures would be below freezing. It wouldn’t do for her strength to be compromised. He eyed the buffalo robe enclosing his bedroll. He untied the leather

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