It was cloudy, but at least it was warm. There would be a melt that would reconfigure some of the snow, and then next month would come another freeze. It would be dangerous to do any big mountain climbing until the weather conditions stabilized. Karl would keep an eye on the snow to make sure he kept his clients safe.
Tante Greta had the right idea of having a day of rest. He slept in for the first time in a week, waking only as he heard her come down to the kitchen to begin the breakfast service. It was pleasant to have a coffee while staring out at the mountains.He rarely drank coffee, but with the guests here, they were well supplied for the coming months with the luxury beverage.
Instead of sitting with guests this morning, he ate in the kitchen and helped with the food service. There wasn’t much room, and he could see the irritation on Greta’s face when he’d step in her way. She had a routine in the mornings, and he was clearly making her life more difficult. He apologized and took himself out to check on the goats.
The goat pen was holding up well. Four of their herd were about to give birth. He would tell Tante Greta that someone needed to be out with them on the days he hiked. At least to check in and make sure the kidding progressed well.
He left his empty coffee cup on the post and went on to the barn where the cattle were. The cattle were in the same state as the goats. A few ready to calve, but here they had their neighbor, Herr Fröhlich, to check on them. Herr Frölich helped Onkel Peter and Tante Greta with their herd and took them up in the mountains with his, and they bartered with milk and cheese the rest of the year to keep him happy.
After the tour of the animals and a pat on the head for Gunther, the dog who watched over all of them, he didn’t need to go check on the goats again, but he might, in case Fräulein Brewer came to see babies.
Not that it was his duty to check on the livestock, really. When the summer came, that would be handed off to one of the seasonal hires, as most of their hired hands were currently prepping their own flocks, trade, and building projects. Most didn’t even live in Zermatt year-round and had promised to return in another month, when the foreign tourists typically arrived in Zermatt.
But Karl’s English clients were definitely not like others. Then again, these English were women, which made them unusual on the surface, but it was more than their gender.Most mountaineers were men, or if there were women, they were married or related to one of the other men. He’d seen those women. Hale and hardy, unjudged, for they were already married. Or they were strange women, under the influence of their strange fathers or uncles.
But this group of alpinist women, beautiful and wealthy, some married, some not, was unlike anything he’d ever encountered in his mountaineering career. There were always rumors of women-only Alpine trips, and rarely people asked if he knew any women Alpine guides; he did not.
Footsteps came up behind him, and after a week of hearing her tread, he knew who it was before turning.
“Any baby goats this morning?” she asked, tucking her hands inside the woolen shawl she’d draped over herself. Her hair was half-down, the way he’d first seen her that first night.
“The beginnings, yes,” Karl said, brushing crusted snow off of a rock with his boot. He was a fool in front of her, and he hated that. Much better when they were moving, and he didn’t have to sound smart in another language. He shook his head. “I mean that yes, we have babies. They are in a separate pen. There are other goats that still have not kidded.”
Her eyes lit up. “May I see them?”
He nodded, and as he guided them closer to the pens, he noticed that she was distracted by the view. She seemed to love the mountains. And she had yet to complain about any of the walks he’d taken her on. Because of snow and time and not wanting to carry equipment, he hadn’t taken her up any big peaks yet. Perhaps he could teach her how to read the snow, make her more capable.
She might not be good at reading snow, but she could at least help guide the others with her steady pace. It was a thought. And then perhaps they might have to spend their time after dinner going over maps and making plans.
Typically, this was the work of the expedition leader, which was Fräulein Bridewell, but the cool-tempered blonde had told him that all the preliminary mountain guiding should be planned with Fräulein Brewer. She’d been very clear about that when they’d followed him up to mend the fence.
“I have spent so much time preparing for the Matterhorn, that I can’t even imagine an after,” Justine said. “It’s like an event that can never happen, because what will I do when it’s over?”
Karl shrugged. He remembered that feeling from long ago, but it had since faded, under the weight of so many subsequent experiences. “You’ll find another mountain to climb. There are many.”
Justine laughed, and he swore it sounded like a bell. A beautiful, clear, unexpected laugh, unlike her many other kinds that were tinged with other emotions. This one was pure. His chest puffed up, happy thathewas the one who had made her laugh.
“Do you have a favorite?” she asked.
His mind blanked, unsure of what she was asking.
“Mountain, I mean. Do you have a favorite mountain?” She looked down, away from him. Was she suddenly shy?
It made him stammer. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, but he also didn’t know how to answer her question. “Favorite in what way? To look at? To climb? A favorite experience?”
“Are those different?” she asked, meeting his gaze again.
He nodded. “Wildly different! To climb is an accomplishment. Sometimes a hardship. You may freeze a toe, or lose a toenail. You maybe might get very hurt or have to stay up all night to finish a descent. You are hungry and tired and sore, but it is exhilarating because you did it! But then, some climbs are fun because you may need ropes and a partner, and itis less about the top than the journey up the side. Those are very fun. And then others, I know them so well, I look at their beauty from afar, and sigh. It brings me pleasure knowing they exist, even if they do not know I am there.”
“You make it sound like the mountains are women you are courting.” Fräulein Brewer’s cheeks flushed pink. She looked like the dolls he saw in shop windows in Munich and Zurich. The pretty ones with porcelain heads and shiny curled hair.
I would court you, he thought, but didn’t say it. There was no point. She was here for a few months only. Instead, he shrugged. “It is my life. It is what I do.”
She was silent for a moment. “I could help you.”
Karl’s mind flipped through possibilities, but none of them could be correct. “With what?”
“With the baby goats, you ninny.”
