A View Most Glorious

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by Regina Scott


  22

  Cora had been sad to say goodbye to Longmire’s Springs. Oh, to live so close to the mountain with family surrounding her. Now, that would be paradise indeed.

  “You’re welcome back any time,” Susan had told her while they were searching for her alpenstock. “You never explored the ice caves on the Nisqually Glacier or hiked to the other waterfalls. And there are still a few smaller mountains that could use naming for their climbers. Coraline Peak sounds pretty.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Cora had said with a smile.

  The ride along the river had been uneventful, even if she had had to listen to Kincaid continue to drown her mother in butter sauce. Really, couldn’t she see it was all an act? Apparently not, for she glanced back at Cora every time he said something particularly flowery, as if to point out how well-spoken he was.

  At least Nathan understood. He’d shake his head at every platitude, and when Kincaid called her mother the wisest woman he’d ever met, Nathan had snorted. That had earned him a look from her mother. He didn’t seem to care.

  She wasn’t sure what had changed after they’d stopped to rest the horses. He said nothing as they continued through the forest, and he didn’t respond to any of the silly things being said ahead of them. Indeed, his face wore a frown, and his gaze seemed to be off in the middle distance.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

  He started, then cast her a brief smile. “Sorry. Just thinking about the future.”

  “Oh?” she encouraged.

  “Nothing worth elaborating on,” he told her. “At least, not yet.”

  That would have been a perfectly maddening statement, if she hadn’t become aware of the roar ahead. Her muscles tightened. They were approaching Kautz Creek.

  “Rein in,” Nathan called well shy of the bank. Kincaid obeyed along with the others. Nathan dismounted and strode to the bank. Offering her reins to Winston, Cora slid down and went to join him. Then she swallowed at the sight that met her eyes.

  The same rain that had weakened the rockslide had swelled the waters and pushed mud and debris before it until the river roiled down the channel like a hydra intent on prey. How high was it? Up to her horse’s belly? Up to hers?

  Nathan eyed the churning flow as if making the same calculation. Then he turned to Cora. “Are you willing to cross that?”

  What choice did she have? She could run back to Longmire’s Springs—oh, such a tempting thought—but the sooner she reached Tacoma, the sooner Mimi could capitalize on Cora’s efforts.

  She’d climbed a mountain. Surely she could manage this. “You lead,” she said. “I’ll follow.”

  He took her hand, held it a moment as if in promise, then nodded.

  “Bring up the rear, Kincaid,” Nathan told him as he and Cora moved back to the others. “Watch for any trouble.”

  “You seem to forget I’m not a member of your party,” Kincaid said. “I’ll see you on the other side.” He urged his horse to the bank and clambered down. A moment more, and Cora could see him splashing into the water.

  “I’ll go last,” Waldo volunteered.

  Nathan held up a hand to keep them all back. “Wait until he reaches the other side.”

  Kincaid pushed his horse, heels digging into the beast’s flanks. For a brief moment, they were swimming, the current pushing them downstream. Then they must have found a shallower spot, for the horse regained its footing. He reached the other side safely and climbed the bank to the top.

  Nathan went next, easing his horse into the river, then urging her faster. He kept more upstream than Kincaid had. Cora followed suit. Blaze balked but finally consented to enter the river, plunging after Honoré. This time, Cora refused to look left or right, or allow Blaze to step away from Nathan’s path. He’d found a more level route, for she never had to make Blaze swim. A few moments later, and they came out on the other side. Blaze shook himself, and Cora drew in a deep breath of the moist air.

  “Well done,” Nathan said, and she nodded. They waited for the others to reach them.

  As soon as her mother had come up to join Kincaid, he continued on his way.

  “Funny fellow, that Kincaid,” Waldo said as he rode up onto the bank. “Sometimes I think he favors you, Miss Cora. Other times he acts like you don’t exist.”

  “That’s all it is, an act,” Cora told him. “Mr. Kincaid cares for no one but himself.”

  For some reason, that made Nathan go quieter still.

  He called another halt when they had navigated the other two crossings. As if Kincaid felt they were wasting his time, he rode ahead. Her mother seemed eager to follow, but she consented to stay with Winston. Waldo handed around cups of water.

  Nathan motioned for Cora to join him by the horses. His trousers were caked with mud from the river, and speckles dotted his coat as well. Some had even splashed up onto his cheek and into his hair. She had to grab her skirts to keep from reaching up to wipe it away.

  Of course, her riding habit wasn’t in much better shape.

  “Aren’t we a pair?” she said, spreading her stiffening skirts.

  “We made it across with no accidents,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Was there a reason you called me over here?” she asked when he fell silent again.

  He brushed mud off his horse’s side, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about tonight. With your mother and stepfather at Ashford’s, you’ll want to stay with them.”

  “I don’t want to,” she clarified. “But I’ll have to, for propriety’s sake.”

  He nodded. “Understood. I’ll see you there and stay until I know they have room for you all. Then I’ll return in the morning and escort you to Eatonville.”

  “And spend the night at Henry’s,” Cora remembered. “When you see Sally, please tell her where I left her comb.”

  His smile lifted. “I’ll do that.”

  Cora glanced to where Waldo was chatting with her mother and Winston. “I wish I could do it myself. I don’t like these arrangements. I don’t trust Kincaid. He’s up to something. I’m sure of it.”

  “He wouldn’t be Cash Kincaid if he wasn’t up to something,” he acknowledged. “Just stay close to your stepfather or the Ashfords, and you should be safe.”

  Safe? Cora frowned as she glanced back at him. “Do you know something about Mr. Kincaid’s intentions that I don’t?”

  His gaze went down the trail as if he could see the businessman ahead of them. “I’ve met enough men like him to be wary. Watch out for yourself, Cora.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  He hesitated, then shifted so that he blocked her view of the others and them of her. His gaze brushed hers at last, softly. His voice was as soft. “Your stepfather offered me a job, at the bank.”

  Her heart leaped, like a deer bounding over a log, but she made her voice come out level. “Is that what you want?”

  He blew out a breath. “I never thought so. But it might have certain . . . benefits.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the chance to court you properly.”

  She forced herself not to react. “And you want to court me?”

  He nodded slowly. “I believe I do.”

  All at once, she was on the summit again, the world at her feet and glory in sight.

  “I might not mind,” she said.

  His grin pulled her closer. “You’re right. We are a pair.” The look faded. “I don’t suppose you could see yourself living out here.”

  Her doubts rushed her, like storm clouds surrounding the mountain. “I don’t know, Nathan. I worked hard to graduate college and begin work as an accountant. There’s not much call for those skills in Longmire’s Springs.”

  “If not the Longmires, then a sawmill or a mining camp might need one,” he insisted.

  And how likely would they be to hire her? The Longmires, maybe, but it was doubtful they’d need an accountant often enough to pay a sa
lary. The others would likely find an excuse not to hire a woman.

  “I don’t know,” she repeated. “But I promise you, I’ll think on the matter.”

  She did little else as they rode down into the Succotash Valley. Nathan as a banker? Hard to imagine. Oh, he’d certainly have the proper skepticism to review a person’s portfolio before extending credit or granting a loan. Winston too easily believed the stories brought to him. She had to be constantly on her guard.

  But Nathan would dominate everyone else at the bank, from sheer size if nothing else. And she could not make herself believe he would be happy in so narrow an existence. How could an office at a bank satisfy when he’d been to Paradise? That he would even consider such a change, just to be near her, said he had strong feelings.

  And that thought set her heart to soaring once more.

  They passed the fork to Nathan’s cabin, then he veered sharper right, closer to the hills. The short path led through firs and cedars, and white and yellow wildflowers raised heads in the cleared spots as if yearning for more of the sun.

  “The Ashfords have room for twenty guests,” he explained to Cora, who was riding beside him at the head of the column now, her mother and Winston right behind. “But it’s a popular place to stay, so I’m glad your mother thought to secure rooms ahead of time.”

  “I still don’t understand why you didn’t take us here on the way in,” her mother complained. “A hotel is always preferable to rougher accommodations.”

  “It’s not really a hotel,” he said. “This is the Ashfords’ property. The house has a few rooms, but many folks bed down in the barn, just like we did at Henry’s. I thought you’d rather have a bed at my cabin, and free.”

  “I’m certain Mrs. Ashford will insist on a bed for us,” her mother said.

  “Though I appreciate you thinking of my wallet, my boy,” Winston put in. “Still, we must consider our ladies’ comfort. A hotel is always a wiser choice.”

  It wasn’t for Cora. Already she missed a cabin by a shining lake, where fish jumped and sunrise came softly to shine on a man determined to pray. A man willing to give all that up, for her.

  Walter Ashford and his wife were as welcoming as always. Nathan wasn’t surprised. The planed wood house with its cedar shake roof had made room for many a visitor since the family had arrived in the area five years ago, and now made room for Kincaid, who had arrived before them. Mrs. Ashford assured Mrs. Winston of a bed, with clean sheets and a thick down-filled comforter, though she seemed mystified as to why Cora’s mother would want to retire to it immediately.

  “Some ladies have a refinement of spirit we can only envy,” Kincaid explained as Winston followed his wife and their hostess.

  “I’ll take care of the horses,” Cora said without looking at him. “We’ll see you in the morning, Nathan.”

  She’d used his first name on purpose. He was sure of it, just as sure as the scowl on Kincaid’s face said he didn’t like it.

  It wasn’t easy riding away. Something kept urging him back, warning him not to leave Cora’s side. Why? It was only one night. Winston understood the danger Kincaid posed. And Mrs. Ashford wasn’t one to countenance nonsense. Cora would be safe.

  Would he?

  Every time he thought about leaving the cabin, taking the job Winston had offered, his heart shriveled a little. It didn’t matter that he had been born to that life. He’d thrived inside it for years. He might still be part of it if not for his father’s death.

  Yet now he saw it for what it was—shallow, hollow, and meaningless. Oh, some men worked hard and took pride in what they accomplished. Look at Eugene and Winston. Some made fortunes and supported others in doing the same. Bankers were uniquely poised to give people a leg up. They kept businesses afloat, encouraged growth and prosperity. Nothing wrong with that. It just wasn’t any dream he’d had.

  Then again, it had been a long time since he’d let himself dream of anything.

  And what great deeds had he done here? He and Waldo took care of themselves and had a little left to help others. He’d been content with that. Happy.

  Now happiness had another name. Cora.

  “You’re going to have to fight for her,” Waldo said as they rode into the yard.

  Nathan cast him a glance but decided not to take the bait. He dismounted to open the gate into the field, where the mules were grazing.

  “You can’t deny it,” Waldo insisted as he rode past him. “A lady like that—smart, pretty, educated, rich—every man in Tacoma will be looking to stake his claim.”

  Nathan grabbed the reins as Honoré trotted into the grass, then set about removing the tack. “Cora Baxter isn’t a mineral claim, Waldo. She has a future and plans of her own.”

  “And that’s good,” Waldo said, dismounting as well. “She’ll encourage you to have plans too, push you forward, so you can become the man you were meant to be.”

  That’s what he feared. The man his father and mother had meant him to be was not the man he wanted to become. He pulled off the saddle, and Honoré headed deeper into the field, chestnut sides gleaming as she whickered a greeting to Sparky and Quack.

  Waldo followed him to the barn with his own saddle. “I saw the two of you, heads together. Did you propose marriage? What did she say? Does she like the idea?”

  Nathan paused as he remembered that soft look in her eyes. “She said she wouldn’t mind a courtship.”

  “Woo-wee!” Waldo threw his saddle over the sidewall so hard the wood shook. “I knew it! I knew she favored you.”

  “She has some feelings,” Nathan acknowledged, still marveling at the very idea. “But that doesn’t mean a marriage is the right choice for us.” He heaved his saddle up on the side-wall and turned to face his friend. “Look at me, Waldo. What do I have to offer a woman like Coraline Baxter?”

  Waldo snatched up a handful of straw and threw it at him. Nathan waved to keep it from hitting his cheek.

  “If you don’t know the answer to that question,” Waldo declared, pointing a finger at him, “then you don’t deserve her.”

  Frustration bit. “I know my worth. I have a claim along the mountain road. We make enough to get by.”

  “And then some,” Waldo put in.

  “And then some. But everything we own combined wouldn’t fill the first floor of her stepfather’s house. I can’t give her silk dresses, carriages, tickets to the theatre.”

  “Who says?” Waldo argued. “You found a way to get us to the theatre to hear that fancy fiddle player. And who says she wants any of that? Besides, you missed quite a few credits in your favor.”

  Nathan eyed him. “Like what?”

  Waldo held up a finger. “You have respect, for one—from the boys at the mill, the fellows up at the mining camp, Ashford and Longmire and Henry and any gentleman or government agent you led safely through the area. There’s none who would disagree.”

  “Kincaid?” Nathan suggested. “My mother. Her mother.”

  Waldo spit. “None of them count to our Cora. You’re honest. You’re clean. You don’t smoke or drink.”

  “Oh, I’m such a paragon,” Nathan drawled.

  “You are,” Waldo said. “The only person who can’t see it is you. There are things far more important than the amount of money you have in the bank or the acres of land you hold. Maybe if your father had realized that, he wouldn’t have left you.”

  Every muscle tightened. Even in his face, it seemed, for Waldo dropped his finger and took a step toward him, eyes widening.

  “I’m sorry, Nathan. That wasn’t fair. But it wasn’t a lie either. You left Tacoma because you thought you’d lost everything that mattered. Now you think you have nothing to offer Cora. You’re wrong. You found what matters, what really matters. That’s something to offer anyone—friend, sweetheart, wife, or children. I just hope you realize it before it’s too late for you, for her, and for the grandchildren I can’t wait to spoil.”

  “You’re incorrigible, you know
that,” Nathan said with a shake of his head.

  “Not sure what that means and don’t care,” Waldo retorted. “Deep down, you know I’m right.” He grabbed the brush and comb and stalked from the barn.

  “You’re the one who’s wrong, old man,” Nathan shot after him. Deep down, he doubted.

  But there was One he never doubted. He waited only until the horses were brushed, fed, and watered before going for his violin.

  Waldo must have been worried about him still, for he brought one of the cane-bottomed chairs out behind the cabin as if to keep an eye on him. Nathan turned his back on his partner. The smooth wood of the violin warmed in his hand as he tucked it under his chin. He’d left his original instrument in Tacoma and purchased this later secondhand. That didn’t make it any less precious to him. The bow conformed to his fingers and slid softly along the strings.

  Music flowed, across the grass, across the lake. It filled the clearing. It filled Nathan too. Incense rising. A pleasant sound for the King’s ears.

  Here is where you made me whole, Father. Here I can feel you, praise you. Why am I tempted to leave?

  As if on its own, the bow moved faster, furiously. Music danced, raced, roared in his blood.

  Do I need a temple, a cathedral? Can you not praise me anywhere?

  “Yes, Lord, I can. Thy will be done.”

  The music slowed, like a quiet stream, and peace flowed through him.

  He knew what he must do.

  And Waldo wasn’t going to like it.

  23

  Cora wanted to dislike Mrs. Ashford simply because her mother approved of her. But she couldn’t. The piled-up brown hair, the wide brown eyes, and the neat printed cotton shirtwaist and dark wool skirt were only part of the picture. It soon became apparent Mrs. Ashford had opinions of her own and wasn’t opposed to sharing them.

 

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