Chapter Eleven
BY THE TIME THE TRAINarrived in Crest Stone, Sophia was certain she’d never seen any place so beautiful. The town sat nestled in a little valley flanked by two mountain ranges, one low and dark off to the east and the other closer and snowcapped immediately to the west. It felt like something out of a storybook as the train rolled through the valley filled with wildflowers, birds, and deer that went scampering the moment the train drew too close.
She laid a hand on her hat when she stepped onto the platform to keep the breeze from lifting it and sending it sailing. Matthew had her bag and had offered to walk her to the boarding house at the edge of town. Not that the edge of town was all that far off. Sophia could see both ends from where they stood just in front of the depot.
“It isn’t very far from here,” Matthew said unnecessarily as they began to stroll down the plank sidewalk. “You’ll like the Darbys. They’re a brother and sister who came here the same time we did, last year. They run a nice, reputable establishment.”
That was reassuring, considering some of the men they passed looked rougher than even the toughest men Sophia had seen back in Kansas City. “Is it . . . is it safe here?” she asked as they passed a saloon that appeared rowdier than any place should be during the daylight hours.
Matthew laughed, and when she shot him an irritated look, he tried to stop. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that you’ve survived a wagon journey of hundreds and hundreds of miles, kidnapping by bandits, and a trek through the desert with very little water. You’re stronger than nearly any man you’ll meet in this town.”
Sophia pressed her lips together as she tried not to grin. He was right. With everything she had been through, if any man dared to approach her with any less than respectable manner, she’d probably smack him without a second thought.
“It’s safe enough, though. I wouldn’t advise wandering about after dark, but we have a good marshal who keeps things in line.” Matthew stopped in front of one of the last buildings before the town gave way to wilderness.
Sophia glanced up at the nondescript building.Darby’s Boarding Housewas painted simply and unpretentiously on a sign above the door. She followed Matthew inside where he arranged for a room for her.
“Why don’t I come back at six o’clock? You can have dinner with us,” he said while Mr. Darby searched for a key.
“I would love that.” Having a meal with someone she already knew was infinitely preferable to eating with strangers at the boarding house.
Matthew bid her farewell, and Sophia spent the afternoon unpacking the small amount of items she’d brought with her, resting, and washing her remaining clothing. A friendly woman named Abigail helped her work on removing a stain from her skirt, and told Sophia about her burgeoning laundry business.
“There isn’t anyone else in town taking in laundry. I’m the first, and I’ll be able to do even more once I rent out a storefront,” she said. “I’ve been saving for months.”
Sophia nodded, unable to put her awe into words. Why, she’d never even thought of starting her own business. How many more opportunities existed here that had never crossed her mind?
She freshened up as best she could in the well-worn dress she’d worn on the train, and by the time Matthew arrived, she was downstairs, ready and waiting.
He smiled the moment he saw her, and Sophia’s face went warm. Just a look from him sent her mind into a flurry and her cheeks flaming, and it was something she had to figure out how to control. He had no interest in her. He’d wanted Miss Timperman—or someone like her. A demure sort who would never think of pretending to be someone she was not. The best thing Sophia could do for Matthew was to help him find a new bride, and in doing so, perhaps she’d earn his respect.
You’ve already done that, a little voice in the back of her mind said as they walked along the sidewalk and he offered her his arm. She took it and let herself revel in the protective feel of the gesture. If he didn’t have at least some degree of respect and concern for her, he certainly wouldn’t have invited her for a meal with his parents, much less offered an arm to escort her to his home.
Matthew spoke on easy topics as they strode down the street—which businesses were new, who was in charge of what, what the hotel on the hill looked like inside, and how lovely the little church in town was. They stopped just past that church, at a small home next door.
“My father is especially happy with how the church has grown. I think he despaired of having very few congregants when we first arrived here,” Matthew said, his eyes on the church.
Sophia looked from the house to the church and back again as the pieces of the puzzle fit together. “Your father is the pastor?” She asked the question even though she thought she already knew the answer.
“Yes. I promise he’s the cheerful sort, and not the kind prone to fire and brimstone,” Matthew said with a crooked grin.
