by Regina Scott
Cora lifted her chin. “Your refrain is becoming tiresome, sir. I will climb Rainier, and women will win the right to vote. Perhaps then you will hire them for equitable pay.”
He stopped and gazed down at her. His voice came out low and intimate. “If this is about hiring you for a position, I can think of a number of more pleasant ways you could earn money.”
Cora stared at him. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t be suggesting what she thought. The very idea made her skin crawl. She removed her hand from his arm.
“I won’t speak to you again, sir, until I return in triumph.” Pivoting, she stalked back to her seat. It was all she could do to manage a pleasant face for the others at the table. She must not have succeeded, for Mr. Garbury regarded her as cautiously as if she’d suddenly aimed a rifle at him.
But Nathan nodded, as if he alone knew what she was truly up against.
And believed she could succeed.
It was the longest day he could remember, and not just because of the heavy skies and unrelenting rain. Every one of the unmarried men in the hotel, except Waldo, was attempting to capture Cora’s attention. Garbury clung to her side, and his two friends followed with puppylike adoration. Young Len Longmire fell over himself to offer advice on climbing. Kincaid watched, clearly amused. Nathan had had to stifle a cheer when Cora had left the fellow standing alone by the hearth.
After breakfast, Elcaine offered to lead them in worship. Garbury and his friends joined in gladly. Kincaid sang the words of the popular hymns alongside Cora’s mother and Winston, his voice a warm baritone. All the Longmires took part, from James with his stub of a beard, white now, to little Grover Cleveland, who let out a squeal as the last verse ended.
Cora stood next to Nathan. For protection from Kincaid and her mother, he was sure. But the fact that she had chosen to ally herself with Nathan kept his head high as Elcaine read from the Bible and then offered a prayer of thanks.
After services, the Longmires returned to their duties. Virinda, Martha, and the girls congregated in the kitchen, which included a large lean-to attached to the back of the hotel. James, Elcaine, and Len sat at one end of the big table, mending tack and refixing caulks into climbing shoes. Cora was so fascinated by the latter that she pulled up a chair to watch, peppering the guide with questions. Len’s face turned a pleased pink over his sandy beard.
Susan, a young lady of nineteen, came out of the kitchen, bouncing her littlest brother on her hip. Like her mother and grandmother, she had light-brown hair and a figure many a lady might envy. She joined Nathan by the window.
“You don’t think she can do it,” she accused.
The baby blew a raspberry, then laughed.
Nathan grinned at his saucy little face. “I think she stands a better chance than most, present company excepted.” He held out his hands. “Here. Let me have a word with this fine fellow.”
She handed over her brother, then brushed down her flowered cotton shirtwaist.
Nathan tucked him close. Grover Cleveland Longmire regarded him solemnly, brown eyes thoughtful, like his grandfather’s. Then he wiggled, face bunching.
“Ah, a man who prefers to keep moving,” Nathan guessed. He strolled the baby around the room and back to the window, bouncing him in his arms. “Better?”
Grover babbled happily.
Cora abandoned Len to join them. “Isn’t he a dear? May I?”
Nathan relinquished the baby into her arms. Once more, the little fellow sobered as he regarded her, but he must have liked what he saw, for he started chatting again.
“Is that so?” Cora asked as if she understood every word. “Why, I would never have guessed.”
Grover nodded his head as if emphasizing his point.
“Well, I think it’s marvelous,” she assured him. She pulled him closer and rubbed her chin against his hair. Then she smiled at Nathan over the top. “He feels like swan’s down.”
His heart tumbled out of his chest and into her embrace.
The baby wiggled again with a squeak that sounded a great deal like Quack, and she pulled back. Then she glanced out the window and gasped.
Nathan whirled to see what threatened them now.
“It’s snowing!” Cora exclaimed.
The three campers rushed over, and they all stared out at the feathery flakes drifting down.
“It will be a cold night tonight, gents,” Garbury predicted, and his two friends shivered as if they could feel it even now.
“You can always stay here,” Elcaine offered. “We’ve a few beds left in the north wing.”
“It’s already melting,” Nathan felt compelled to point out. “See? It’s not even reaching the ground.”
That didn’t stop Garbury from going to dicker with the hotel owner about price.
Susan took charge of her brother and carried him off, leaving Cora standing alone with Nathan.
“Tell me about the way ahead,” she said.
At the table, Kincaid was attempting to teach poker to Mrs. Winston and the banker. Cora’s mother, however, seemed more interested in what was happening by the window than the pasteboard cards she held. Even Kincaid excused himself to edge closer.
Nathan had to pull his thoughts together, tuck his heart back where it belonged. “Tomorrow, weather permitting, we’ll take the trail up along the Nisqually,” he told her. “Then we’ll follow the Paradise River to Cushman Falls. From there, it’s an easy climb up to Paradise Park and Camp of the Clouds.”
“What picturesque names,” Kincaid said, moving in beside Cora.
Nathan felt the change in her. Her breath caught, and she straightened. Her gaze narrowed on Nathan’s face as if she would block out any other sight.
“And then?” she asked him as if Kincaid hadn’t spoken.
“Then we climb to Camp Muir,” Nathan said, “up the Cowlitz Cleaver, around a massive rock called Gibraltar, and onto the snowfields to the top.”
“How easy you make it sound,” Kincaid said. “Don’t mislead her. I hear it’s a long, hard climb, through ice and snow, over crevasses so deep you can’t see the bottom, so wide they require a ladder to cross. What sort of gentleman encourages a lady to take such risks?”
“Indeed,” her mother put in as if shouting amen to a wise preacher.
Nathan eyed him. “A gentleman who supports the achievements of others without wondering how he can line his pockets from their downfall?”
Kincaid flamed.
Garbury returned to them, eyes bright. “I certainly think your efforts should be applauded, Miss Baxter. I only wish I’d brought my climbing gear so I could go with you.”
Cora sent Kincaid a quelling look, then put on a winsome smile. “You climb, Mr. Garbury? Any practices you think I should consider?”
As the camper flushed at her attentions and spouted nonsense, Kincaid eased around him until he was beside Nathan. His gaze was hard, his tone harder.
“I won’t forget your part in this matter, Hardee. When she fails and marries me, I’ll see you ruined.”
“Too late,” Nathan said. “You saw to that when you took my father’s last dollar. I’ve nothing left for you to steal.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said before turning and striding for the stairs.
16
The rain stopped that afternoon. The sun came out and set the trees and buildings to steaming as much as the hot springs. Cora couldn’t wait to leave. The Longmires were welcoming, Mr. Garbury and his companions affable, but she was always aware of Cash Kincaid, murmuring with her mother, watching her for any sign of weakness.
“Why don’t we start for Paradise Park now?” she asked Nathan.
He grimaced. “Too late in the day. But if you’d like to stretch your legs, we could walk around the springs.”
Cora readily agreed, and her mother and Winston decided to join them. She hurried them out the door before Kincaid could offer as well.
The cool, clear air brushed her as she followed Nathan into the meado
w. The Longmires had encircled the more prominent springs that dotted the area with rounded stones, making it look as if little chimneys poked out of the ground. Some of the springs were hot, puffing out fluffy clouds of steam as Cora passed. Others were cool and clear and deep, giving her a glimpse down into the earth. Nathan dipped up a cup for her to drink. The water was sweet and satisfying.
“Jim Longmire claims the springs have medicinal properties,” he told her when she asked for a second helping. “I know I threw you into one of the warm pools when we arrived, but there’s a bathhouse to the northwest and cedar bathing tubs available if you’d like.”
“A gentleman does not discuss bathing with a lady,” her mother commented to Winston.
Nathan inclined his head. “My apologies, ma’am. Just making sure your daughter is aware of the options. There will be no opportunity for . . . hot water the next few nights.”
“I shall take that under advisement,” her mother replied, turning toward the hotel.
As soon as she and Winston were on their way, Cora stopped Nathan on the plank path the Longmires had laid over marshy ground. “I saw Mr. Kincaid take you aside earlier. I’m glad you didn’t let him convince you to give up the trip.”
He raised a brow. “Me? I was under the impression he was bullying you.”
Cora raised her chin. “I make it a habit not to allow myself to be bullied, sir.”
He glanced to where her mother had stopped to peer down into one of the hot pools. “Only by your mother, it seems.”
Heat pulsed up, warmer than the spring water. “She is my mother. I owe her a great deal, the least of which is respect.”
“Even if she forces you to climb a mountain to earn her respect?”
She drew in a breath to keep her temper from flaring. “She isn’t forcing me up a mountain. I agreed to go to help the suffragette cause. If agreeing to my mother’s stipulations as well is the price I must pay, so be it.”
He was watching her again, green eyes shadowed. “Then you’ll be ready to start for Paradise Park at first light tomorrow.”
Cora raised her chin. “Yes, I will.”
Well, not quite.
Cora was ready, but Martha Longmire insisted on cooking them a hearty breakfast of eggs brought up from the Kernahan ranch, pancakes, fresh-churned butter courtesy of the cow the Longmires kept, and huckleberry syrup. Her daughter Susan motioned Cora closer as breakfast was ending.
“We’ll take care of your horses while you’re gone,” she reported. “Father says you don’t have to pay the fifty-cent per person fee to use the trail he built to Paradise Park. He thinks that highly of you and Mr. Hardee.”
“Please thank him for me,” Cora said.
“There’s something else. I didn’t think to leave anything on the summit when I reached it two years ago. I’d be honored if you’d carry this for me, as another sign that the women of Washington remain undaunted.” She held out a hooked bone needle.
Cora took it from her hand. “A crochet needle, isn’t it? Our maid Darcy uses one to craft collars and such.”
Susan nodded. “My brother Len carved my name in the shaft. You might say, it will show I made my mark.”
“You certainly have,” Cora agreed, clutching it close. “Any last words of wisdom?”
Susan grinned. “Don’t let the gentlemen slow you down.”
It wasn’t the gentlemen but Cora’s mother who attempted to hold her back. She cornered her as Cora was checking the thick canvas pack before giving up her room. Cora was just glad she hadn’t donned Miss Fuller’s bloomers yet and wore the other ensemble she’d brought with her besides her riding habit. This blue dress had sleeves that puffed out from her shoulders to her elbows, and a minimum of darker blue ruching at the high neck, down the bodice, and on the hem.
“Coraline, please, must you do this?” her mother begged, eyeing the pack as if certain it would leap up and strike her.
Cora straightened, exasperation making her tone sharp. “You set the stakes, Mother. Even if you backed down now and agreed I have no need to marry, I’d still make the attempt.”
“To draw attention to these silly suffragettes,” her mother retorted, eyes flashing. “They’ve already lost—twice in the courts and once on the ballot. Why keep fighting? And why fight Mr. Kincaid? You can see he is devoted. You must think of your future.”
“Mother.” She drew in a breath to steady herself. “You are asking me to exchange a few days of danger for a lifetime of regret.”
“It is no less than was expected of me,” her mother informed her. “How could you have attended that seminary if not for my second husband? The university if not for my third?”
Guilt wrapped steely arms around her, squeezed the breath from her body.
Her mother laid a hand on her arm, tears coming to her eyes. “Please, my darling, don’t risk your life this way. Tell Mr. Kincaid you’re sorry you’ve been cool to him. I’m certain he’ll forgive you.”
But she would never forgive herself.
“I can’t, Mother,” she said, shrugging off the touch and bending her knees to lift the pack. “I should go. I’ll see you when I return from the summit.”
Her mother stepped aside and let her pass, then followed her down the stairs. Was this how the salmon in the bay felt when an eagle roosted nearby, watching their every move?
Winston stood with Nathan and Waldo beside the main door of the hotel. Each also carried a pack, though only Nathan looked as if it wasn’t a burden. He gripped a long, pointed staff in one hand, the wood bleached white, though markings showed where it had been carved. So that had been the wood she’d seen sticking out of his horse’s pack.
Clustered near the hearth, the Longmires, Mr. Garbury and his friends, and Cash Kincaid waited.
“Ready to go, dearest?” Winston asked.
“Absolutely,” Cora said.
The sight of Cash Kincaid’s smug face disappeared as the Longmires, Mr. Garbury, and the others surged forward, cheering. They followed her out the door, and the children ran ahead to wave them out of the clearing. It was a smaller send-off than she’d had in Tacoma or at Henry’s, but it made her heart beat faster, her smile broaden. She could do this. She was going to do this.
As the cool shadows of the forest surrounded them, she wiggled her shoulders to settle the pack. Sunlight slanted in golden columns through the dusky firs, with glimpses of the Nisqually on their right, and striped-back chipmunks skittered across the trail to dive into the ferns. Somewhere a woodpecker sought lunch, the rata-tat-tat making them marching music.
As before, Nathan went first, with Winston behind him, then Cora, and then Waldo.
“You’re doing great,” Waldo assured her every once in a while. “You just follow Nathan. He’ll see you through.”
Nathan was visible over the top of Winston’s derby. His gold-flecked hair was a bright spot among the fir boughs. As the trees opened up and he stopped, she came abreast of him.
“How do you feel about crossing that?” he asked.
Ahead, the forest was split by a wide swath of white and gray. Boulders, some twice the size of her head, lay tossed about like balls. The river seemed far less angry than when she’d crossed it the other day. Here it was slow and wide and shallow as it threaded its way among the rocks.
Cora drew in a breath of the fir-scented air. “I’ll be fine.”
“Walk beside me,” he ordered as if he doubted that.
She paced him across the break, hopping from rock to rock in places. Her hem was dark with water and speckled with mud by the time they reached the far bank, but she gave him a smile of triumph that he returned.
They followed the trail along a creek that bubbled down to the Nisqually, the way constantly climbing and the forest growing thicker. Here and there, a stump stuck up where the Longmires had had to fell a tree to clear the path.
After a while, she heard another sound, like a rushing wind, growing louder. Cool mist hung in the air, clung to h
er hands and face.
“Cushman Falls coming up,” Nathan called back.
They broke from the trees at the top of a cliff. Across the gulf, a torrent poured from the mountain in clouds of foam to pool in the creek below. A rainbow arced across. Cora just stood and stared.
“We’ll halt here,” Nathan said, pulling an arm out of the straps of his pack as he moved upwind, where the mist did not reach. “Waldo, water. Mr. Winston, you should have the lunch Mrs. Longmire packed.”
Her stepfather had acquitted himself well on the climb so far. Now he slung off the pack and drew in a deep breath that expanded his chest. Then he bent and began pulling out brown-paper-wrapped bundles and handing them around.
Martha had provided smoked venison, hard-rind cheese, and thick slices of bread. Not a bad meal washed down with the clear water from the springs.
“All up from here,” Nathan announced.
Oh, joy.
And yet, it was rather pleasant. A breeze wound its way through the forest, setting the trees to rustling and cooling Cora’s skin. Waldo whistled, and a bird answered in the distance.
“Delightful,” Winston proclaimed, and she could not argue.
At one point, they had to clamber over a downed tree. Most of the smaller branches had broken off in the fall, but Nathan planted his staff and bent to pull first one and then another branch from the debris. He ran his hand down the sides to snap off smaller twigs, leaving a long stick at least an inch thick and taller than he was.
“Your alpenstock,” he said, handing one of the sturdy poles to her and the other to Winston.
Cora held hers in a fist. “I’ve seen these before. Miss Fuller had one in her climbing picture. You’re using one now.”
“Many of the alpine climbers rely on them,” he said. “An alpenstock can help you keep your balance on a slippery slope, anchor you in the snow, and break through ice.”
“Then I thank you for the gift,” Cora said, tightening her grip.
“Indeed,” Winston said.
