Laura Abbot - A Family Found

“Hooray!” Toby shouted, running for his coat hanging from a peg by the door.

Marcus rose slowly. “It’s too cold.”

“Bundle up, then,” Tate answered quickly in the attempt to overcome his older son’s reluctance. “We can hunt for animal tracks.” Marcus’s interest in nature was sophisticated for one so young. He already had an extensive scrapbook collection of plants and leaves.

The boy shrugged indifferently, then ambled to fetch his coat. Tate sighed. On top of everything else, his sons were very different. What pleased or excited one failed to move the other. Marcus was introspective and didn’t settle for easy answers, whereas Toby was an enthusiastic, open little fellow for whom the world was his playground.

Outside, Toby ran ahead on the trail while Marcus stuck his hands in his pockets and followed slowly, his eyes scanning the ground. Tate brought up the rear, wondering what his boys were thinking, especially Marcus, who had been old enough for his mother’s departure to disappoint and damage him. Ever since, he’d kept more to himself, within himself, and seemed less trusting. Tate felt helpless to improve the situation, especially when he sensed the boy harbored some resentment of him, as well.

“Look, Papa!” Toby skipped toward him, holding a gigantic pinecone. “See? Is this the biggest so far?”

Tate examined the treasure. “Could be. Let’s take it home to add to our collection.”

“You carry it,” Toby said, thrusting the cone into Tate’s hands before racing off again in pursuit of a new adventure.

“Pinaecae,” Marcus mumbled as he continued up the trail.

Watching his sons’ backs, Tate paused to shake his head. The tutor couldn’t come soon enough. Marcus needed direction for his inquiring, thoughtful mind, and Toby needed academic discipline. It was all Tate could do to get him to settle down long enough to encourage his reading and map skills. No matter how hard Tate tried to steer their studies, there simply weren’t enough hours in the day.

From the top of the ridge, Toby stood silhouetted by the setting sun. “It’s time, Papa. Hurry or you’ll miss it!”

A sunset wasn’t all he was missing, Tate thought to himself as he trudged along. He was proud of his sons and thankful for his financial success, but the life he’d envisioned for himself as a young man had included a loving intact family. He wasn’t sure now if such a life would ever be his.

* * *

Each evening in the week following Grizzly’s overnight visit, Sophie had fallen into bed exhausted. With the tools she had brought, supplemented by the few she found in the barn, she had repaired furniture, installed locks, straightened the barn door and reinforced the corral fencing. Her next project was preparing the ground for her garden. There was no end of work to be done, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. To her surprise, she had not counted on how the lack of company would affect her. After Charlie’s death, she had longed for solitude and peace, but after living on the ranch amid the two bustling Montgomery families, she missed the listening ears and pleasant conversations. Now she found that she was talking to herself or Ranger and wondered if she sounded daft. Friday night she consulted a map of the valley, determined to make her first exploration of the territory and in the process locate the store Grizzly had mentioned as a source of milk and other limited supplies. Satisfied with her plan, she went to bed early, determined to set out shortly after daybreak.

She rose with the sun, but after answering the early knock on the door, became aware her plans had undergone a change. “Mornin’, miss,” a short, plump man with a fringed jacket and Western hat greeted her when she opened the door. “I’m Jackson Tyler, and me and the missus, along with our son and his wife, are here to help.” He turned toward the yard, where Sophie saw the others waiting in a wagon. “Soon the Harper clan’ll be along, too. I imagine you have walls to chink, a roof to mend and a garden to dig. My wife, Martha, thinks maybe she could help with some fixin’ up inside to make the place homier.”

Sophie reached out to shake the man’s hand. “I’m Sophie Montgomery, and I don’t want to inconvenience you, but I’d be much obliged for your assistance.” She marveled once again at the neighborliness good people exhibited, both in the Kansas Flint Hills and now here. “I imagine Mr. Lockwood must’ve told you about me.”

Looking puzzled, Tyler stroked his bearded chin. “No, ma’am. Don’t know nothing about Lockwood. It was Grizzly. He stopped by our place after meeting you and allowed as how you might need a hand. Said you were a determined little woman, but he thought things might go smoother if some of us pitched in.”

“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.”