A Family Found. Laura Abbot

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