A Family Found

“See what?” Marcus had entered the room and stood observing the scene.

Toby clapped his little hands. “Marcus, wanna get a dog?”

“I didn’t say yes,” Tate mumbled as he rose to his feet.

“But you will!” There was no denying Toby. “We could call him Buster.”

“That’s a dumb name,” Marcus said, maintaining his distance.

Sophie, sensing tension, turned to the boy. “What’s a better name?”

“Well,” the boy drawled, inching closer and eyeing Beauty, “something more original like...Seaman, Meriwether Lewis’s dog who explored the Missouri, or Bacchus, the Greek god of fun, or—”

“Nobody said there would be a dog to name,” Tate interjected.

“But nobody said there wouldn’t be,” Sophie argued before she could censor herself.

Once more Tate eyed her expressionlessly. “True.”

Thankfully, at that moment Bertie Wilson entered the room with a large tray. Toby ran toward the dining table at the other end of the room near the kitchen where she was laying out the food, but Marcus couldn’t move. Beauty had wrapped herself around his legs and was looking up at him adoringly. Slowly Marcus sank to his knees so the dog could lick his face. “You’re tickling,” the boy said and then giggled. It was one of the most welcome sounds Sophie had ever heard. She reckoned this was a boy for whom giggles were few and far between.

The sweet hot tea and spicy homemade ginger cookies were welcome after her cold ride. “You have a lovely home, Tate.”

“We like it.”

“Papa builded it and Marcus and me got to pick our bedrooms.”

“I especially like the bookcase. You have quite a collection here.”

Marcus turned to her with a curious expression. “Do you like to read?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Good,” the boy said before filling his mouth with another cookie.

“You are welcome to borrow some volumes,” Tate offered.

“Thank you. I may well do that once I get more settled.”

Sophie turned the topic to her upcoming hike with Belle Harper, but throughout the rest of their conversation, she had the uncomfortable feeling that Tate was sizing her up.

“Can you play with us?” Toby asked, interrupting the adult conversation.

Sophie smiled. “I suppose I could.”

“C’mon, then.” He fetched her coat and dragged it over to her. “Outside. I like tag. And Beauty can play, too.”

“It’s nearly time for us to go home, but a bit of outdoor exercise will do us good.” Surprisingly, without a word Marcus, too, put on his coat and followed them outside. Sophie paused in the door and looked back. “Tate?”

“Not today.”

The sun was high in the afternoon sky and the air, crisp and fragrant. It was difficult to play tag with only three people plus Beauty, so Sophie introduced them to Follow the Leader. Then just before she left, she asked if they’d ever made snow angels. Their blank stares said it all. Throwing discretion to the winds, she lay down atop the snow and moved her arms and legs. When she stood up, she turned to the boys. “Now, then, what does that look like?”

“An angel,” they said in unison.

“Your turn.”

Sophie stood over them, reveling in their delight. “I’m making huge wings,” Marcus said, while Toby giggled with the effort of moving his arms and legs simultaneously. Then they stood up and began pelting one another with snowballs, between fits of laughter.

Sensing a presence behind her, Sophie turned to face the house. Before a curtain slipped back into place, she had a glimpse of Tate. He’d been watching them. She wondered what had prevented him from joining them. Or didn’t he ever play? No use wasting time thinking about such things. The man was a mystery.

* * *

Tate couldn’t believe his eyes. Marcus was nearly cavorting, Beauty trailed Toby’s every step and Sophie Montgomery, why, she might as well have been a child herself. She joined the boys’ play with abandon, her cheeks pink from the cold, her red-gold hair escaping her stocking cap and her laughter audible even through the pane of glass. Now accompanied by Beauty and the boys, she approached her horse. He couldn’t hear what she was saying to his sons as she bent close to them, one arm around Toby and the other around Marcus. Marcus, who rarely let anyone touch him. Whatever she’d said, each nodded seriously in reply.

Tate turned back to his desk. Why hadn’t he joined them? Was he too good for Follow the Leader, or had he feared making a fool of himself in front of the maddening Sophie? Sophie, who in less than two hours had captivated his boys.

He’d barely sat down to pore over his papers when Toby burst into the room without knocking. The rebuke for the intrusion died on Tate’s lips when he saw how animated his son was.

“Papa, Papa. Marcus and I discussed. He told me to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” Over Toby’s head, Tate spotted Marcus lurking outside the door.

“’Bout the dog,” Toby said, approaching him and laying a small hand on his knee. “If we had a dog, we’d be real ’sponsible. We’d feed it and give it water and take it for walks and—”

Before Toby could gather more steam, Tate interjected. “Animals require a great deal of care. Not just for a day or a week. Always.”

“Always,” Toby intoned, his blue eyes, so like his mother’s, fixed on him. “We promise.”

“Marcus?”

The boy slunk into the room, not daring to look at him. The concern that so often occupied Tate’s thoughts returned in force. Was his own son afraid of him? Indifferent to him? Angry? Clearing his throat and knowing there was no argument to be made, Tate said, “Both of you are committed to caring for a dog?”

“Yes!” shouted Toby, while Marcus nodded.

“Well, then, I think what we should do—” he paused, prolonging the suspense “—is ask around the valley whether anyone knows of available pups.”

Toby clambered into Tate’s lap and captured his face between his hands. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Marcus took a step forward. “Thank you, sir,” he mumbled before leaving the room.

“I don’t care what Marcus says. Buster is a good name.”

Tate groaned. Solving one problem had created another. He knew there was only one solution. Two dogs. But if that would please Toby and somehow bring a smile to his older son’s face, no price was too high to pay. Perhaps allowing them pets would in a small way compensate for the frequency of his business trips. “Buster, huh? We’ll see. Now run along like a good boy. Papa has work to do.”

The boy slid to the floor. “Beauty is a good dog. Betcha mine will be, too. I’m glad Miss Sophie came to visit.”