A View Most Glorious

by Regina Scott

  “Oh!” She dug in the blanket roll and pulled out the comb. The crochet needle was harder to grasp with her gloves, and she nearly dropped it in the snow.

  “Here,” he said, and she pulled her glasses back on as he led her toward a pile of basalt to the west. In the lee of the rocks, protected from the gales that could sweep the mighty peak, she tucked in the precious items.

  “There,” she said. “That proves it.”

  Something flashed in the light. She peered closer. “Someone’s wired a mirror to these rocks.”

  She glanced up to see Nathan smile. “Mr. Van Trump. I couldn’t find it the last time I was up. We’ll have to let him know it’s still here. You should mention it when you speak to the reporters. That will help prove you reached the top. Now, let’s go.” He turned from the rocks.

  She glanced around once more, memorizing every angle, each vista. There, a slight rise in the mountain even now. She seemed to recall Mr. Van Trump mentioning two parts to the summit. Surely she should try for the other portion too.

  “Must we?” she asked. “There’s so much more here.”

  When she looked back at him, his smile was sad. “For safety’s sake, yes. We need to leave now.”

  Following him from the summit was the hardest part of the journey yet.

  She was amazing. The view from the top never failed to humble him, but standing at her side, seeing the same awe and joy on her face, had made the accomplishment sweeter still. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from kissing her. If she asked for an explanation, he’d put it down to the thrill of the climb.

  Even if he suspected there was far more to it than that.

  The way back should have been quicker, being all downhill, but the sun was warming the snow, making it softer, harder to traverse. Melted ice ran sparkling in little streams down the slope. He had to watch every step and keep an eye out for crevasses hidden by blowing snow. Worse, the snow bridge they’d used to cross the biggest crevasse had thinned to a veneer he didn’t dare take Cora over. Instead, he tied the rope around her waist and his once more.

  “Watch me,” he said, stomach knotting as tightly as the rope. “And remember, if you fall, I’ll pull you up.”

  She nodded. Behind the tinted glasses, her eyes were impossibly blue, impossibly wide.

  Nathan backed away from the crevasse, then sprinted toward it. A foot from the edge, he planted his alpenstock and pushed off, yanking his alpenstock up and along with him. Over the yawning crack he flew, catching a glimpse of darkness far below. He skidded on the wet snow as he landed, but he dug in his staff and brought himself to a stop.

  Drawing a breath that speared icy air into his chest, he turned and steadied himself. “Come to me, Cora.”

  She backed up, two steps, three, then lunged for the hole. His heart leaped with her jump. She landed on the very edge, and one shoe slipped back. She careened, tilting, crying out.

  Falling.

  Nathan surged toward her, pulling on the rope, and she plunged forward instead, onto her chest in the snow.

  He reached her side as she raised her head. Snow clung to her eyebrows and the tip of her nose. He had to fight the urge to kiss it off.

  Whispering a prayer of thanks, he bent and helped her to her feet.

  “All right?” he asked.

  She brushed snow off her long coat. “Yes, but I think you should have warned me that to climb a mountain I needed to know how to fly.”

  Relief pushed laughter past his lips. “I’ll remember that the next time I take a lady to the summit.”

  She glanced back the way they had come, face lined by yearning. He understood. One of the reasons he agreed to act as guide was the excuse to reach the heights again and stand for a moment at the top of the world.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” she said. Then she gathered herself, and they continued their descent.

  Gibraltar proved the next challenge. Nathan had to ease his way around the towering formation. Rocks sifted down from above, falling with a whistle like a cannonball, and once ice crashed in front of him. He grabbed Cora, sheltered her with his body. The need to protect her had never been stronger.

  “Thank you,” she said as he released her. “And those words do not seem adequate for what you’ve done for me.”

  And for all he was feeling. He made himself lead her on.

  They had reached the top of the Cowlitz Cleaver when he spotted the other figures at the foot.

  Cora must have seen them too. “Winston is up!”

  That made their steps all the easier.

  About five hundred feet above Camp Muir, Waldo and her stepfather were waiting. Their grins could have lit the night.

  “You did it, dearest!” the banker exclaimed, enfolding her in a hug. “We saw you on the summit. So tiny, but so clear against the snow. I’ve never been prouder.”

  She smiled as she pulled back. “And you sound much better.”

  “A little tea and a little rest were all I needed.”

  Beyond him, Waldo shook his head at Nathan. Right. Still best to get the banker to lower altitude and warmer temperatures as soon as possible.

  “Do you want to go to the summit yourself?” Cora asked. “We could stay another night.”

  Winston glanced at Nathan, and something crossed his face. The fellow knew his limits. “No, dearest. I feel fortunate to have made it this far. I’m just glad you had Nathan beside you.”

  Which meant he’d done his job. He had to remind himself of that. This was just a job. She’d return to society now, take her rightful place at its head, trumpeting the cause of women’s rights. All too soon, it would be time to say goodbye.

  “That’s settled, then,” Nathan said. “We need to break camp and return to Paradise Park before sunset.”

  “What about the rockslide?” Cora asked as they turned for Camp Muir.

  “There’s more than one route down the mountain,” Waldo said. “Maybe we can find one that shortens the time to Paradise Park some.”

  “We can hope,” Nathan said. “Either way, we have one more night in Paradise, then Cora can tell the world she climbed a mountain.”

  20

  Climbing down was not as easy as she had expected. Nathan had been right about the snow. What had been firm and icy this morning now had a layer of melting slush on top. It sucked at their shoes, made each step a chore. And the packs didn’t seem nearly as light as they should. Even after his rest, Winston was soon puffing, breath a white cloud in the air. Cora’s legs were like lead.

  But she’d done it. That knowledge alone sustained her. Having reached the heights, she couldn’t rest until she could see the feat reported. Oh, what Mimi could make of it as they argued for the vote! As if to celebrate with her, a golden butterfly danced by above the snow.

  Nathan was quiet, pointing them to more reliable routes, breaking trail where needed. But even he seemed to be slowing.

  “Perhaps a rest?” she called.

  “When we hit rock,” he called back.

  It seemed an inordinately long time before they hit rock.

  Waldo alone seemed undeterred by the descent. As they came across a long stretch of snow, he darted to one side. “You all are too slow,” he declared, and he took a run before planting his feet to slide on the icy wastes. He shot past Cora, Winston, and Nathan, flying down the hillside.

  “Remember to plant your alpenstock!” Nathan shouted after him.

  Winston watched him go, face sagged in longing. “Wouldn’t that be something to move so quickly.”

  “I can’t recommend it,” Nathan cautioned. “It’s called glissading, and only the most experienced climbers try it. There, he’s had to stop for that outcropping of basalt. He might just as soon have smacked into it.”

  Winston’s look was resigned.

  Cora wasn’t quite so ready to give up. “You said it was possible to ski down the glacier, Nathan. Waldo’s waiting. Why not try? We’d be sure to reach Paradise
Park before dark.”

  Nathan eyed her, then snapped a nod.

  He had her and Winston line up parallel with him on the slope, showed them how to bend their knees and lean forward just the slightest, push off with their alpenstock, then dig in the staff to slow their movement. After a few short runs, he gave them his approval.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “That way I can come back up if there’s trouble.”

  “Race you to the bottom,” Cora said, pushing off.

  The icy wind whipped past, tugging at her blue glasses, her cap, and her coat. She was flying, soaring, a falcon diving for its prey. She was freedom, joy, and exhilaration.

  Nathan came into view beside her. He shot her a grin before passing. She leaned farther forward, but he beat her to the rock, dragging his staff the last few feet to slow himself.

  She managed the same feat and jerked to a stop just short of the basalt. Easy to bask in his admiration. Then his smile melted into a frown, and she turned to look up the slope.

  Winston was struggling, leaning left, right, and then one foot came free of the ground entirely. His alpenstock waved in the air.

  “Stay here,” Nathan told her. “Waldo, with me. We have to catch him.”

  They both sprang back up the slope.

  Winston careened toward them, and Cora held her breath. Nathan and Waldo veered to intercept him. Nathan caught one arm, Waldo the other, and all three of them slid backward toward the rock.

  She couldn’t simply wait and watch. She stepped out onto the snow, planted her feet and her alpenstock, lowered her head, and stood firm.

  Winston slid right into her, but she stayed upright, and so did he.

  “Sorry, dearest,” he said, breath puffing in the air. “That wasn’t as easy as you all made it appear.”

  “From now on,” Nathan said with a look to Waldo, “we walk down.”

  Waldo had the good sense to look abashed.

  They had to descend through snow for another half hour before they reached the next outcropping of basalt. Cora collapsed on a slab and eased off her pack, then stowed her blue glasses. The world didn’t look much brighter without their shade. Mist was rolling into the valleys, making it seem as if they stood on the banks of a sea. She gladly accepted the cup of water Waldo handed her. At least as the day warmed, the ice in the canteen melted.

  “We should be able to move faster on the next leg,” Nathan said, gaze on the way ahead, which disappeared into the bank of clouds. “Without having to glissade. What do you think of that path for our way down, Waldo?”

  Cora looked to where a narrower rut led off toward the south.

  “Might do,” Waldo allowed, capping the canteen. “I seem to recall Len Longmire mentioning one that ran down the backside of Alta Vista to Camp of the Clouds.”

  She could have slept where she sat. “A few minutes rest would be appreciated.”

  Nathan turned from the view. “A few minutes only. We need to remove the caulks from our shoes, after all. But we don’t want to be caught on the hill after dark.”

  His words hung like Winston’s breath in the chill air as they descended. The mist closed around them, leaving drops glittering on her gloves, her alpenstock. She could barely make out Nathan at the head of their column. She’d take a couple of steps on the uneven ground, pause and orient herself, then look down to go forward again. Her neck started to ache with the movement. Ahead of her, Winston shambled along as if unable to lift his feet from the ground.

  “Only a little farther,” Waldo encouraged behind her. “And you might want to go a little faster. We don’t want to lose Nathan.”

  Nathan must have heard his friend, for he slowed his steps.

  Gradually, the sun burned through the mist. Trees appeared ahead. But the light was dipping toward the west, until it caught in the branches of the alpine firs. When they reached the meadows, wildflowers nodded drowsy heads, and she knew it couldn’t be long now. Everyone’s pace picked up then.

  “Mules heading for the barn,” Waldo said with a chuckle.

  She didn’t mind the comparison in the least. Below, she could see the peak of the tent they’d left behind. Almost there.

  Dusk blanketed the meadows when they reached camp at last. Waldo chased some chipmunks out of the tent, but otherwise nothing had been disturbed. Winston crumpled beside the firepit, face gray. Cora flung off her pack and dropped beside him. “We made it.”

  “And just in time,” Waldo said with a nod to where the sun was hiding in the forest. “I’ll get a fire going.”

  “I’ll put up the other tent,” Nathan said, removing his pack as well.

  He had to be as weary as she was. Cora managed to regain her feet. “Let me assist.”

  He didn’t protest as she joined him.

  “Tired?” he asked, unfolding the canvas.

  “Bone tired,” she said. Then she smiled at him. “But you know, I climbed a mountain.”

  His smile warmed her more than the fire Waldo had kindled.

  She was still smiling when he served up beef soup and tinned apples a short time later. The hot, salty soup seeped into her as the four of them hunkered around the glow. Sighs echoed. She’d taken a moment to wash off the last of the actor’s paint, and her skin felt free again. Even Winston recovered a little to beam around at them all.

  “We can’t sleep too late tomorrow,” Nathan warned as if he feared they would nod off where they sat. “We need to return to Longmire and retrieve Mrs. Winston, then make the cabin by dark.”

  Waldo grinned, teeth flashing in the firelight. “Can’t wait to see Mrs. Winston’s face when she hears our Cora made it all the way to the top.”

  Once more Cora traded smiles with Nathan.

  “I’m sure Cora’s mother will be pleased to have us return safely,” Winston said. “Will you accompany us all the way to Tacoma, Nathan, my boy?”

  Cora started, soup sloshing in her cup. That’s right—his work was done. He had no further role in her life. That felt wrong, as if she’d put too much in her pack and was suddenly overbalanced.

  He glanced her way, face lined by light. Was she mad to see the same sorrow she felt at their coming parting?

  “I finish what I start,” he said. “I’ll get you all back to Tacoma.”

  “We could stock up on supplies too,” Waldo reminded him.

  All at once she was so heavy she could scarcely sit upright. She managed to stand, then held out a hand to prevent the men from rising as well. “I’ll turn in now. Thank you, gentlemen, for everything.”

  “I’ll join you shortly, dearest,” Winston promised.

  She stumbled to the tent.

  What was wrong with her? She slumped on the blanket, fumbled with the laces on her climbing shoes, and managed to pull the things off her aching feet. She’d known Nathan would only be in her life a short time. He hadn’t pledged undying devotion. She’d never sought his attentions. He had helped her achieve her greatest triumph. Nothing said he had to stay at her side forever.

  And truly, were her feelings worthy of forever? For all she knew, they had been born of proximity and a shared goal. Would they last longer than a day or two now that the goal was won?

  She had never felt more tired, but sleep refused to come as she lay bundled in her blanket. She heard Winston enter the tent and crawl into his bedding, then the rumble as he started to snore. Even that couldn’t eclipse her thoughts. She ached, but it was deeper than her muscles. It was as if she’d never made it to the top, as if she’d lost something precious.

  Nathan drew in a deep breath as he pulled the blanket around him. His body commanded sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Cora on the summit, glowing with purpose, achievement, and joy. And then there was the kiss, so sweet, so rich.

  Whatever he thought, whatever he felt, it would all end once they reached Tacoma.

  From the other tent, a snore rattled the night. Next to him, Waldo moved and rustled his bedding. Nathan wasn’t surprised when
he spoke, just at what he wondered.

  “So, did you ask her to marry you yet?”

  “No,” Nathan said.

  Waldo huffed. “Why not? She’s beholden to you, has warm feelings right about now. I’ve no doubt she’d say yes.”

  If only he had such faith. “Get some sleep, Waldo.”

  Grumbling, Waldo shifted away from him.

  But thoughts of Cora filled Nathan’s mind until he finally drifted off to sleep. It seemed fitting that she was the first person he saw when he exited the tent the next morning, leaving Waldo still dreaming.

  The sun was veering toward the top of Rainier, and birds welcomed it in chorus. She stood on a boulder, head up, eyes closed, light bathing her. As he watched, she lifted her hands to the sky.

  His heart rose. Worship was all too easy here. Even now, thanksgiving filled him, and he stood for a moment, murmuring his gratitude for safety, for prosperity.

  For her.

  She climbed off the rock and came toward him. She’d removed the bloomer suit and was back in the blue dress with all its little tucks. Her hair hung down around her shoulders like a silken cloud, and for the first time since meeting her, he wasn’t sure where to look, what to say. He grabbed a pot and went to fetch water from the stream.

  He returned to find her wading through the wildflowers, arms down and fingers splayed, as if she would gather them all close. Oh, how strong the urge to follow, to hold her, to kiss her. He made himself crouch beside the rocks and start the fire.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said as she joined him. “I want to bottle it and carry it home with me.”

  “Most folks seem to feel that way about the mountain,” he said. “They take flowers to press into books, rocks from the streams for their curio cabinets. Better for the mountain if they just take memories.”

  “I certainly will.” Her gaze went toward the peak above them. “When you pulled me from the river, pushed me out of a rockslide, drew me over a bridge of snow, taught me to fly down the mountain. When we reached the top, together.”

  When he’d kissed her? Well, perhaps he was the only one who dwelled on that. “I’m glad.” He might have said more, but her stepfather tumbled out of their tent then, and the work began.