A View Most Glorious

by Regina Scott

  Tempting, but Blaze would have to go far the next few days. No sense tiring him.

  Cora cantered up beside Nathan, sweeping away dust with her free hand.

  “You’re not going to join them?” he asked.

  There was no surprise in the tone, only curiosity.

  “Not now,” Cora said. “And I apologize again for all the fuss. High spirits. And my mother has always preferred to lead.”

  “She’ll have to learn to follow once we leave Lake Park,” he said as the cavalcade disappeared among a copse of fir.

  Cora sighed. “We can always hope.”

  With her parade gone ahead, quiet settled over her. They were up on a plateau that stretched into the distance. On every side, fields of golden wheat lapped up against towers of dusky green hops under a heavy gray sky. Here and there a log cabin, barn, or clapboard house spoke of families and progress. Men and women out toiling glanced up as they passed.

  The blast of a horn broke the silence. Nathan and Mr. Vance pulled the mules to the side of the road and Cora came in behind them as the steam engine chugged past, yellow sides gleaming. Only a few riders gazed out from seats in the car behind.

  “Where are they going?” Cora asked as the dust settled.

  “Fern Hill, perhaps,” Nathan said as he and his partner urged the mules forward once more. “It has a community with a school and a church. It’s too late in the day to start for Lake Park.”

  She came alongside him and Mr. Vance again. “I suppose I should have known that. We get proposals from the outskirts of the city on occasion—farmers wanting to buy more land or new equipment, merchants hoping to expand their locations. There’s talk of extending the Tacoma and Lake Park Railway out to the mountain.”

  Nathan glanced at her. “You get involved in such matters?”

  “If someone asks the Puget Sound Bank of Commerce for money, I do,” Cora assured him. “When there’s just discussion over dinner or at parties, providing my input becomes trickier. Some men don’t like women to have opinions.”

  He snorted. “Idiots.”

  She eyed him. “You surprise me, sir. You certainly haven’t been shy about countering my opinions about this venture.”

  “You’re entitled to any opinion you like,” he said. “But there are opinions, and there are facts. One can be argued; the other can’t.”

  “A bit limited, but in general I agree. Unfortunately, I’ve found any number of people only too happy to argue against facts, especially the fact that women are in every way capable of voting.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “So have I.”

  “Why, Mr. Hardee, did we just come to a consensus?” she asked with a laugh.

  He smiled. “Stranger things have happened, Miss Baxter. Though I doubt we’ll ever reach such an accord with your mother.”

  “What will you do if she insists on bringing the carriage?” she asked.

  “Steal the horses.”

  She stared at him. That face was firm, unyielding, yet there was a twinkle in his green eyes.

  Cora laughed. “You’re teasing me. Seriously, sir, we must have a plan. If the way is as difficult as you say, we can’t let her delay us.”

  “That eager to climb?” Mr. Vance asked.

  “That determined, Mr. Vance,” she answered. “Make no mistake. I love my mother dearly, and I do all I can to respect her wishes. But I will climb that mountain, whether she likes it or not.”

  Easy to say when they’d left the city only moments before. She had no idea what lay ahead. And neither did her mother.

  At least she rode well. Waldo had said as much, and Nathan could see it in Cora’s upright posture, her ease on the tooled leather sidesaddle, and the way she held the reins.

  “Fine horse,” Nathan commented.

  She brushed down the silky mane. “Blaze is a thoroughbred, through and through. And what of yours?”

  He gave the mare’s reddish-brown shoulder a rub. “Honoré was bred by a friend of mine, a sturdy horse for hard work.”

  As if she disagreed, Honoré tossed her head.

  “Mine’s named Bud,” Waldo put in. “Short for Buddy. And this here’s Sparky.” He nodded back toward the pack mule. “Nathan’s towing Quack.”

  Her brows went up, and she twisted as far as the sidesaddle would allow to glance at the piebald mule behind Nathan. “Quack?”

  “His bray is shorter and deeper than most mules,” Nathan explained. “Waldo thinks he sounds like a duck.”

  Waldo nodded as she faced front again. “Like a mallard in flight. You wait.”

  “I look forward to hearing Quack give voice,” she assured him. “Excuse me. I should make sure they all kept moving to Lake Park. For all I know, Mother decided to turn west to Fort Steilacoom instead or Mimi accosted some farmer to convince him to champion women’s rights.”

  She urged her horse into a gallop, the banner flapping against his side.

  “Who’s going to win in the fight between her and her mother, do you think?” Waldo asked, watching her.

  “Normally, I’d say Miss Baxter,” Nathan told him. “But she hesitates to take her mother on directly.”

  Waldo shook himself. “Who wouldn’t? Step one foot out of line, and you’re in for a tongue lashing. Well, if the mother insists on coming, I say we charge extra. We agreed to take Miss Baxter and her stepfather, not that lot.”

  “That lot will leave after tonight,” Nathan promised. “And her mother won’t last. If the road doesn’t deter her, our friend Henry’s place will.”

  Waldo laughed. “Can’t see her sleeping in a barn, that’s for sure. And somehow, I don’t think she’s partial to folks like him.”

  They reached the Lake Park Hotel in time for dinner. The three-story clapboard structure, its front facing the lake, sat on a rise surrounded by grassy prairie. Below, ringed by firs, Spanaway Lake sparkled like a diamond in an iron setting, its breeze-rippled waters reflecting the white-capped mountain in the distance.

  Cora was waiting for them in the lobby. Though the space boasted wood-paneled walls and several plush red-velvet chairs, her riding habit looked right at home. “Mother left the carriage at the livery stable beyond the hotel,” she reported.

  Nathan nodded. “We saw it when we stabled the mules. That’s where we’ll be sleeping tonight.”

  She frowned. “Surely that’s not necessary. I know the rooms are full, but someone can share so you and Mr. Vance can get a good night’s sleep.”

  Nice of her to think of them.

  Waldo hitched up his trousers. “The supplies we need for the next month are in those packs, miss. I don’t intend to let them out of my sight for more than a meal or two. Speaking of which.” He inhaled deeply, gaze darting toward the entrance to the dining room at the left of the lobby. “That’s roast beef.”

  “And duck and lamb,” she added. “I already checked the menu. You go ahead. I have to change before I join Mother and Winston.”

  With a grin to Nathan, he trotted for the dining room.

  “You look fine to me,” Nathan said.

  She smiled. “Why, Mr. Hardee, how you do go on. You could turn a lady’s head with such praise.”

  He nodded to the men lounging by the clerk’s station. They were all watching her. “You’ve already turned heads. But I expect that’s nothing new.”

  The prettiest pink, like the first anemones poking out of the snow, bloomed in her cheeks. “Now look, you’ve put me to the blush.”

  How could he not look, like every other man in the place? He knew what they were thinking. A wife like her was why half the men in the area built farmsteads, broke their backs sawing timber, or bent over desks all day. Coming home to her would make any work worthwhile.

  He reined in his thoughts. A wife? Employment? Where had those thoughts come from? He’d turned his back on all that. He belonged to no one. That’s how he preferred it. And no amount of time spent in Coraline Baxter’s company was going to change that.

&nbs
p; Especially the dance that night.

  All her entourage joined her in the ballroom behind the hotel. Well, ballroom might have been too kind a word, for all the hotel insisted on using it. The walls were unplastered, the ceilings low, and the space dimly lit by oil lamps suspended on brass chains. But the plank floor was well polished, and the fiddler and pianist who took up their positions at the head of the room knew how to play. According to the sign in the lobby, they staged a dance every Friday and Saturday evening during the summer months.

  And more than the guests came. At two bits, most anyone could pay the price of admission. The fine silk gowns of the ladies who had accompanied Cora brushed up against the cotton dresses of the local ladies as they waited along the walls for a gentleman to request a dance. The black suits and white shirtfronts of the gentlemen from Tacoma were a stark contrast to the red flannel and blue denim of the farmers from around the area.

  And then there was Cora.

  Gowned in purple silk, she spun around the dance floor, skirts belling. Each time she smiled, he wanted to smile back. Each time she laughed, something rose up inside him to answer. She was light, she was joy. She coaxed hope out of hiding.

  And that was dangerous. His father’s death, the reactions of so-called friends, had taught him to limit hope and dreams to something smaller, easily attainable, within his control.

  So, he watched from a distance. The music swelled around him, punctuated by laughter and snatches of conversation. Perfumes mingled into a heady scent.

  “You concerned about that wall?” Waldo asked, joining him.

  Nathan glanced back at the rough wood. “Not particularly. Should I be?”

  “Not that I know of. I just couldn’t think of another reason you thought you had to hold it up.” He rubbed his hands together. “Plenty of lovely ladies to choose from. Let’s dance.”

  “Go right ahead,” Nathan said. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Waldo narrowed his eyes at him. “You got something against fun all of a sudden?”

  “No. I’m having a fine night.”

  Waldo nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can tell. Suit yourself.” He strutted away.

  Nathan glanced around, and the hairs on the back of his neck went up. Cash Kincaid was bowing over Cora’s hand while her mother simpered at him. When had he arrived? Didn’t matter. Nathan pushed off the wall.

  “One dance,” Kincaid was crooning as Nathan reached them. “What’s the harm?”

  “I have already refused once, Mr. Kincaid,” Cora said, voice firm. “Please don’t pursue the matter. I’d hate to embarrass us both.”

  Kincaid’s face tightened. By the wrinkle on Cora’s nose, so had his grip on her fingers.

  Nathan reached in and removed Kincaid’s hand. “I’m afraid I can’t allow Miss Baxter to dance any more tonight. She needs to be rested so she can climb the mountain.”

  Mrs. Winston’s eyes were as blue as glacier ice and just as sharp, but Cora moved closer to Nathan.

  “Quite right, sir,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my chances with a hasty misstep now.”

  “I thought, Mr. Hardee,” her mother said, each word clipped, “that you wanted my daughter to practice.”

  “Climbing, ma’am, not dancing. Best to sit out. Won’t you join me, Miss Baxter?”

  “I’d be delighted,” she said, putting her hand on his offered arm.

  Nathan could feel Kincaid simmering as they turned away. He made a show of strolling slowly over to the nearest bench and handing her down as if she were made of fine crystal.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he sat beside her. “Mother would have insisted that I dance with him.”

  “No always works for me,” he suggested, putting his back once more to the wall.

  She sighed. “It works for most people. Just not my mother and, I fear, Mr. Kincaid. So, I thank you again.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said. “I told him the truth. You still have a mountain to climb.”

  “I know.” The simple words were built on the determination he had come to expect.

  And respect.

  She had to climb a mountain, but why did he feel as if he were the one struggling up the slopes for the sky?

  10

  They left Lake Park the next morning, without the carriage. Cora had attempted to reason with her mother again, but Nathan won the day.

  “I sent your coachman back on the streetcar,” he said when he found them still arguing in the hotel lobby after breakfast. “You want to take your coach, you’ll have to drive it yourself.”

  “You are impossible,” her mother fumed. “Winston, discharge this man, immediately.”

  “Now, dearest,” her stepfather said with an apologetic look to Nathan, “Mr. Hardee is the best, and I would not entrust your life or Coraline’s to less.”

  Her stepfather managed to convince her to retire to her room to change into her riding habit. He went with her as if to make sure she did so.

  “At least you didn’t have to steal the horses,” Cora teased Nathan, swishing her navy habit across the plank floor.

  He nodded but turned away to speak to the clerk.

  Cora frowned after him. Last evening at the dance, when they’d sat out a moment, she’d felt . . . something. She knew that appreciative look in his green eyes, that tilt of his mouth. It was almost as if they were becoming friends.

  But he’d turned away, as if her company could not satisfy now. She was aware of a distinct lowering of her spirits.

  “There you are,” Mimi called, sweeping into the room in cerulean silk and turning all heads in the process. She came to give Cora a hug. “Everyone else may protest to rise so early, but I will wave to you until you fade in the distance. And when you return, we will crow your triumph.”

  “We will,” Cora promised. “And thank you.”

  “What are friends for?” Mimi smiled as she pulled back. “Now, go. Finish your preparations.”

  Waldo, as Mr. Vance had insisted she call him, was at the livery stable ahead of her, saddling the horses. Nathan was strapping the packs into place. Cora tried not to notice the muscles that bunched his coat as he worked. She patted Blaze, then hefted the saddle off the side wall and set it in place on the gelding’s golden back. Turning, she found Nathan watching her.

  “Don’t you have someone who does that for you?” he asked.

  She bent to cinch the saddle in place. “Oscar, our coachman, or Charlie, our man-of-all-work, will do it if I ask. But I believe if you own a horse, you should know how to take care of it.” She straightened to look for the bridle and reins.

  He handed them to her. “Very wise.”

  She wasn’t sure why his compliment delighted her. She’d never sought approval and was used to it being withheld. But she couldn’t deny it felt rather pleasant.

  Her mother and Winston joined them a good half hour later in front of the hotel. By then, Mimi had collected a cadre of gentlemen who appeared to want to know all about her, and only a few looked dismayed that she had turned the conversation to the subject of women’s rights. Nathan and Waldo had everything else ready, including her mother’s saddle horse, Duchess. Winston assisted her mother in mounting. Nathan approached Cora.

  “Your hand, sir?” she asked, lifting one booted foot.

  In answer, he grasped her waist and lifted her into place again.

  She would not react. She would not react.

  A shame she could not convince her pulse.

  “Thank you,” she said with all the cool politeness her mother had taught her.

  From the steps of the hotel, Mimi applauded.

  As if Nathan knew what Cora was feeling, he smiled. Every pretense fell away, and she smiled back.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, large hand resting on the banner over Blaze’s side. “It will be a long ride today. I’ll do what I can to make it easier, on all of us.”

  He turned away, and she drew in a breath, gathered her reins, and directed Blaze f
orward.

  They rode past the hotel, and Mimi waved her hands and cheered. Cora waved back. Then she turned her gaze toward the south.

  As if determined to hide from her, the mountain was missing from the southeastern horizon. A cool mist hung in the air, dampening her cheeks. Waldo took the lead, with her mother and Winston behind. That left Cora to ride beside Nathan.

  She’d ridden with gentlemen before, even Cash Kincaid before she’d taken his measure. She couldn’t remember noticing how easily they held the reins, how well they sat in the saddle. She certainly had never wished they might ride a little closer, so she might see the depths of their eyes or bask in the glow of their smile. What was wrong with her?

  She forced her gaze forward. They were following a wide wagon road across a prairie that seemed to go on for miles in all directions. As when they’d traveled into Lake Park, clapboard houses, some two stories tall, stood among fields fenced in stands of fir.

  Cora recognized the waving grain surrounding them. “That’s wheat, and the taller stalks are corn.”

  “The staples to feed a family and the city,” Nathan agreed. He nodded to a wall of evergreens that was growing closer in the distance. “Farther on it will be logging. A growing city needs lumber too.”

  Even years after the fire that had destroyed much of downtown Tacoma. Aside from the new city hall and some of the establishments in the business district, many of Tacoma’s buildings were still made of wood.

  The trees crept closer on the west, then on the east, as the road gently rose. After climbing a steeper hill, they rode down into a draw and crossed a creek that was more mud than water. Her hair, heavy with the damp, sagged under her riding hat. Mist glistened on the red leather of the saddle.

  On the other side of the creek, the winding trail led up over hills, higher and higher, until she and Nathan broke out onto a broad prairie. The mist had risen with the land. The sky was blue, endless. And to the southeast . . .

  Cora reined in and stared. White, rugged, massive, Rainier stood in majesty.

  “The lady is expecting you to call, it seems,” Nathan said, riding past. “Best not to keep her waiting.”