The Measure of a Man

by Carol Cox

  Lizzie felt the color drain from her face and glanced at Willie, who looked as stricken as she felt. They had known Mr. Peterson since early childhood, and their father had often jokingly accused him of spoiling them when he had brought them candy and spent countless hours telling them stories. A kind, generous man, Lizzie knew he had never hurt a single person in his life.

  “Is he. . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

  Bert shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Doc says he thinks he’ll pull through, but it’ll take time. He was hurt pretty bad.”

  “Why Dan? How did it happen?” Charles rasped.

  Bert spread his hands wide. “There wasn’t any reason for it, boss. None at all. A couple of yahoos were shooting at signs. Dan walked out right smack in the middle of it.” He gulped in a breath and cleared his throat. “One of ’em even had the gall to laugh and say it was Dan’s own fault. Said Dan shouldn’t have got in the line of fire.”

  “Who did it, Bert?” Willie rose from his seat, his young face grim and stern. “Do they know?”

  “Yeah, they do.” Bert looked down and studied the toes of his boots. “One of ’em was Billy the Kid. No one recognized his friend, but he was medium height, slim build, brown hair. About Billy’s age.” He looked up at Charles with somber eyes. “Looks like Lincoln County’s trouble has become ours, don’t it?”

  “It looks like it’s come all too close to home,” Charles agreed, his eyes fixed on his children. Willie sank back into his chair as though his legs would no longer support him.

  The room swam before Lizzie, and she left without a word, knowing she might faint if she stayed a moment longer. Once in her room, she threw her clothes off into an untidy heap and sought the sweet oblivion of sleep.

  sixteen

  Abby’s birthday dawned bright and clear. The moment Lizzie opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be a perfect day. As far as the weather was concerned, anyway. Her own spirits would have been more in tune with an overcast sky filled with lowering clouds.

  Time was supposed to bring healing. But the two weeks following Tom’s departure hadn’t done a thing to ease her pain or restore her confidence. She awoke each morning to a dull throb of hopelessness that didn’t dissipate as the day wore on.

  Lizzie avoided contact with the rest of the family as much as possible, unable to face either their censure or their pity. She had even gone so far as turning her mirror to the wall, so as not to have to face her own reflection.

  This day, though, she knew she owed it to her mother to present as bright a face as possible, so she swiveled the mirror back around before she began dressing her hair.

  Lizzie reached for her hairbrush, then halted with her hand outstretched, staring at the forlorn creature peering back at her. Hollow eyes gazed listlessly into her own. Her skin stretched tautly over her cheekbones, and her hair hung dull and limp. No wonder she had caught worried looks from her parents and Vera the past few days. But this pitiful person portrayed her true self accurately, she thought.

  Lizzie drew the brush through her hair again and again, trying to restore some of its normal luster. In the end it lay neatly over her shoulders, but lacked its customary sheen. It would just have to do, she thought as she swept it back and tied it in place with a sky-blue ribbon.

  She slipped out of her nightdress and selected a matching blue dress with more ruffles and flounces than she ordinarily wore, hoping its cheerful hue might give her wan cheeks more life. It helped a little, but not much, Lizzie decided, surveying her appearance in the mirror once more.

  I look like I’ve been sick for a month. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring out some color. You’d think I was primping to go to a ball, she thought with wry amusement before reminding herself how unlikely that would ever be.

  Vera rapped on the door and stuck her head inside the room. “Well, look who’s up and dressed,” she said cheerfully. “I brought your breakfast on a tray, since it’s a special occasion.”

  Lizzie felt a surge of gratitude for Vera’s thoughtfulness, followed by a twinge of guilt as she remembered how she had studiously avoided Vera the past two weeks.

  “Thank you,” she said, attempting a smile that almost looked real. “But I’m not the birthday girl, remember?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Vera swept in and set down the tray with her usual efficiency, then turned to survey Lizzie with a practiced eye. “It’s an improvement,” she said with a satisfied nod. “It’ll do a lot for your mother’s peace of mind. Thanks, Lizzie. We can always count on you in a crunch.” She gave Lizzie’s shoulders a quick squeeze and was gone.

  Lizzie stared at the closed door, openmouthed. Was it possible Vera didn’t despise her after all? She picked at the fluffy scrambled eggs and discovered she had an appetite for the first time in days.

  With no other plans for the day, Lizzie found herself with time on her hands. She wandered down to the barn and went directly to Dancer’s stall.

  “Hello, fella,” she said when he pushed his head over the half door and whickered a welcome. She stroked his glossy neck lovingly, mindful of her dress and the need to keep it clean. “I haven’t paid much attention to you lately, have I?”

  Dancer nuzzled her hair in answer, and she pushed his head away with a gentle hand. “Not now, boy. I have to look presentable today. But tomorrow I’ll wear something more suitable and give you the best rubdown you’ve ever had to make up for it. And we’ll start going out again soon, I promise.”

  The scuff of boots behind her made her turn. Adam stood there, as if hesitant about whether to enter the aisle. Lizzie stared back, her eyes wary. Adam had come to her rescue when she thought her world had ended, but then he had ridden away. Apparently his solicitous concern was only commiseration for her tears. Once he had sorted through what had actually happened, he was as disgusted with her as everyone else. After all, he had left her almost as abruptly as Tom had.

  Lizzie found his actions thoroughly confusing. But then, she was having trouble understanding even her own feelings. Why, for instance, should the knowledge that Adam McKenzie held her in low regard bring such a sharp pang of regret?

  “Hello,” she faltered. “Am I in your way?”

  Adam blinked as if just waking up and a slow smile spread across his face. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I’m not usually met by such a lovely sight when I come in to feed in the morning.”

  Lizzie felt the heat wash across her face and knew they must be as pink as the roses her mother had planted near the front door. The aisle seemed to have shrunk somehow, leaving barely enough room for the two of them. Was he serious, or making fun of her? Given his baffling behavior two weeks ago, how could she possibly know? Better to take the safe road and not make any rash assumptions that might embarrass her again. Hurrying to get past him, she murmured, “I’d better get back to the house.”

  The aisle truly had shrunk, she decided when she attempted to squeeze by Adam without brushing her dress against the wall. He turned sideways at the same time she did, and they stood face to face, mere inches apart.

  Lizzie wondered if a thunderstorm was brewing. There was that same tingling feeling in the air, raising bumps all along her arms. Adam seemed to sense it, too, for his dark gaze was fixed on hers and he stood as if rooted to the spot.

  Lizzie recovered first. Here I am, about to make a fool of myself again. What must he be thinking? Aloud, she said, “Excuse me, I need to go.”

  ❧

  Adam watched Lizzie leave and tried to get his heart to slow back down to its normal rate. Idiot! he told himself. Every time you get a chance to talk to her, you freeze up like a block of ice.

  He shook his head, reliving the encounter. Every nerve in his body had reacted to her nearness, and it left him breathless. He could have sworn she had felt it, too. But, he reminded himself, he would have sworn she’d looked on him as something more than a brother when she had nestled in his arms that day two wee
ks earlier.

  He kicked himself mentally as he went about his chores, wishing he could find someone with good, sturdy boots who could do a more thorough job of it.

  ❧

  Jeff, Judith, and all four children arrived shortly after the noon meal. The family gathered in the living room, where they could watch Abby open her gifts and at the same time they could fuss over baby Susannah.

  Lizzie looked anxiously at Judith, hoping that with all the excitement of the new baby she hadn’t forgotten the precious quilt. A reassuring wink from her aunt put her mind at rest, and she settled into a wingback chair, trying to give the appearance of enjoying the festivities.

  Rose, Sammy, and Travis presented their family’s gift first, bearing it importantly, as befitting their mature status. Abby oohed and aahed over the job they had done on the wrapping, and carefully opened the box to reveal a delicate china tea set.

  “We helped pack it,” Travis volunteered. “But not Susannah. She’s too little.” The twins nodded in solemn agreement.

  “Thank you all,” Abby said, gathering the three in a big hug. “It’s wonderful.” A smile over their heads was directed at Jeff and Judith, including them in her thanks as well.

  Willie’s offering was next, and his mother expressed delight at the tortoise-shell comb and mirror he gave her. He received her thanks with a grateful smile. The unwarranted shooting of Dan Peterson seemed to have awakened Willie. Little by little, his sunny disposition was returning, much to the relief of the entire family.

  Lizzie fidgeted in her chair. Would her mother really like the quilt? She almost wished she had substituted something else for it instead, some trinket that would please her mother without making Lizzie feel so vulnerable. Maybe no one would notice if she didn’t present the quilt to her mother. Or if they did, perhaps they would assume she had been too distraught this last couple of weeks to remember to get a gift. Maybe it was better to be seen as thoughtless than an object of pity.

  “I guess I’m next,” said Charles, glancing around and not seeing any more presents. “Here you are, dear. Many happy returns of the day.” He handed Abby a small white box.

  She opened it with care and stared for a moment at what lay inside. “Charles, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, lifting from the folds of paper a delicately crafted gold pin fashioned in the shape of an oak leaf. Crystal drops shone in the corners of her eyes as she gazed at her husband.

  “I picked it up on my last trip to Santa Fe,” he said proudly, obviously pleased with his gift’s success. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “You knew I would,” Abby told him as she pinned it on her dress. “Thank you so much.” She gave his hand a tender squeeze and a look passed between them that made Lizzie feel the rest of the group was intruding upon a special moment meant only for them. She tried to ignore a stab of envy.

  Abby gave a happy sigh. “It’s been a wonderful birthday. Thank you all very much.” Lizzie tried to ignore Judith’s quizzical look. After seeing all those wonderful gifts, she couldn’t bear it if her own was a disappointment.

  “Shall we go into the dining room for some refreshment?” Abby took the arm Charles offered and prepared to lead the way. She looked questioningly at Judith, who was clearing her throat repeatedly.

  Getting no response from Lizzie, Judith took it upon herself to speak. “I think you have one more present, Abby. Jeff, would you bring it in from the wagon?”

  Jeff left the room with a grin on his face, and Lizzie sank further down in the chair, wishing she could pass right through the cushion, the floor, and into the earth itself.

  Willie held the door open for Jeff, who maneuvered a mysterious bundle wrapped in brown paper through the doorway and held it out to Abby. She accepted it with a smile, but looked curiously at Judith. “Another one?” she asked.

  “This one is from your daughter,” Judith replied.

  Abby’s eyes shone with delight as she beamed at Lizzie. “Thank you, dear,” she said.

  “Better wait ’til you open it before you get too excited,” Willie muttered, earning himself a reproving look from his father.

  Lizzie held her breath as she watched her mother tear the paper away. Abby stopped with her hands in midair as the bright colors of the quilt appeared. Silence filled the room as she touched the fabric tentatively, tracing the lovingly stitched design. She looked first at Judith, then Lizzie, her eyes filled with wonder. “You made this, Lizzie?” she asked breathlessly.

  Lizzie nodded, hoping against hope that she hadn’t let her mother down again.

  “But how? When?”

  “I asked Aunt Judith to show me how,” Lizzie answered. “We made it at her house, and she helped a lot,” she said. “I wanted to do something special for you. . . ,” she added, trailing off lamely.

  “And you have,” said her mother, her eyes glowing with happiness. “Charles,” she said excitedly, “just look at this!” She spread out the quilt, carefully smoothing the folds. Everyone gathered around, with Jeff and Judith keeping their eager threesome at a safe distance. Lizzie’s handiwork was duly inspected and approved.

  Abby slipped away from the group and came over to kneel by Lizzie’s chair. “It’s beautiful,” she told her. “But I still don’t know how you managed it. How long did it take you?”

  “We’ve been working on it for months,” Lizzie admitted. “We got it finished just before Susannah was born.” She flinched inwardly, remembering what else had occurred on that fateful day.

  “And you kept it a secret all this time?” Abby shook her head, smiling. “I don’t know why that surprises me, though. It’s just the sort of thoughtful thing you’d do.” She slipped her arms around her astonished daughter and held her close. “Thank you, Lizzie,” she whispered. “I’ll treasure it always.”

  “I’m glad you like it, Mama,” Lizzie responded, returning her mother’s embrace. She felt so good, so accepted. If only she could measure up to her mother’s opinion of her!

  seventeen

  “Are you ready for the picnic, Lizzie?” Rose’s eyes shone with excitement, and she bounced from one foot to the other in anticipation.

  Lizzie sighed and tried to summon up a smile for her cousin’s benefit. She had tried to opt out of attending the annual church function but her parents had insisted they needed her help to keep an eye on Jeff’s three oldest youngsters. Susannah and her parents needed some time alone together, they reasoned, and with all the excitement the picnic would bring, it would take every available person to make sure the children didn’t get into too much mischief.

  Lizzie wasn’t sure whether the need for her help was real or a manufactured reason to get her away from the ranch and out of her doldrums. She suspected the latter, and while she appreciated her parents’ concern, she wished they would leave her to her own devices. Especially when it involved a church activity. Church was one place Lizzie simply didn’t belong.

  Right now Lizzie didn’t feel like she and God were on especially good terms. She had tried to forge ahead in spiritual knowledge. She’d read her Bible and discovered verses that she thought applied to her, and look what had happened. God might talk to others, she reasoned, but he obviously didn’t communicate with Lizzie Bradley.

  Rose’s insistent bouncing brought Lizzie back to the moment at hand. She gathered her cousins together, feeling something like a mother hen when they followed her out to the wagon, where Vera efficiently loaded them and the baskets of food. “You’re ready to go,” she announced, smiling.

  Lizzie’s parents emerged from the house and Charles boosted Abby to the wagon seat before taking his place beside her and clucking to the horses. Lizzie sat in back with the children and waved good-bye to Vera, who had declared that her old bones weren’t up to all that jouncing around anymore.

  Several of the cowboys rode alongside the wagon, ready to take advantage of any opportunity to socialize with their far-flung neighbors. Lizzie glanced around, but didn’t see Adam among them. Just as wel
l, she thought, breathing a little easier. Ever since their encounter at the grove, and especially since their meeting in the barn, she had found his presence unnerving, and didn’t understand why. To have to deal with him on top of the other emotions she was experiencing right now would be too much.

  She leaned back against the sideboard and closed her eyes. The light breeze played with loose strands of her hair and tugged at her full skirt. The constant rocking of the wagon lulled her into a half-doze, broken only by the excited chatter of Rose, Sam, and Travis, who saw this outing as a high point of their existence.

  Lizzie sighed, adrift in her own world. If only her life could be as simple as theirs! Lost in her thoughts, it seemed only a brief time until they arrived at the picnic grounds. The children scrambled over the tailgate even before the wagon came to a stop, with Abby’s admonitions to stay close and behave apparently falling on deaf ears. Lizzie helped carry their baskets to the waiting table and tried to avoid conversation with the friendly but inquisitive older women who were organizing the food.

  When her mother handed her a blanket and told her to find a place for them all to sit, Lizzie seized the opportunity for escape gratefully. She spread the blanket on the ground a distance away from the others, telling herself the children would need extra space to run around.

  Lizzie looked up when a shadow crossed the blanket, and her mouth went dry when she recognized Brother Webster, their pastor. Wasn’t it enough that God had made her pain-fully aware of her shortcomings? Was it necessary for Brother Webster to mention them too?

  The pastor smiled and dropped down onto the opposite end of the blanket. Lizzie tried to return the smile, but her lips felt brittle. Brother Webster’s eyes crinkled, as though he was aware of her discomfort and found it amusing. “How are you, Lizzie?” he asked, compassion warming his voice.