When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  “But that could change,” Mother countered.

  Thinking about Wesley DeShazer, their ranch foreman, always made Lizzy’s heart ache. She had first met him when Wes was just eighteen and she was eleven. Her adoration of the young ranch worker had been overwhelming. She followed Wes around like a puppy for days, asking him questions and showing off her tricks. Wes had been kind and fun. He had treated her with tenderness. He was never condescending toward her, which only served to endear him to her all the more. It had been hard to leave him behind each spring when they returned to the wild west show. Lizzy would count the days until they returned, and when they did, she had rejoiced to find him still working at the ranch and more handsome than she’d remembered. As he grew into a man and took on more and more ranch responsibilities, Lizzy had determined he was the man she intended to marry.

  “Lizzy?”

  She glanced up to find her mother watching her. Lizzy smiled. “Sorry, I’m tired. What were you saying?”

  Mother sat down beside her. “I was speaking of Wes.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Clarissa’s been gone two years now.”

  “True, but during those two years, Wes has avoided me whenever we’ve been home. I don’t think there’s any future with him. If we were meant to be together, he wouldn’t have married Clarissa.”

  “You were just a child when he married.”

  Lizzy frowned. “I was eighteen. Hardly a child.” She yawned. “I’m sorry. I’m too tired to talk about this. I think I’ll get ready for bed.”

  Mother took her hand. “Darling girl, you mustn’t give up on true love. If Wesley is the man God has for you, then it will come about.”

  “And if he’s not?” Lizzy already knew the answer but voiced the question anyway.

  “Then you wouldn’t want him for a husband. We need to rest in God’s will for our lives, Lizzy. You know that. To seek our own would only result in a world of hurt and problems.”

  “Seems we have that anyway.”

  Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I know. It’s been so hard without your father.” Tears trailed down her cheeks. “I don’t know why God took him from us. He was so loved.”

  Lizzy hated seeing her mother cry. She put her arm around her mother’s shoulders and hugged her close. “I don’t know either. I do my best to trust God for the future, but losing Father makes the future seem grim.”

  Her mother sobbed into her hands. Lizzy couldn’t count the number of times her mother had broken down like this, which was exactly the reason she couldn’t be honest with her mother about her own feelings. “Come on, Mother. We’re both done in and will soon be lost in our tears. Let me help you get to bed.” She helped her mother to her feet and led her to one of the four private sleeping rooms in the family car.

  The space wasn’t all that large, but there was a small built-in dresser and a rod to hang clothes on beside a double bed, which was also built in with a nice ledge at the side of the headboard. One of the cleaning girls had opened the window and lit the kerosene lamp, which was affixed to the wall above the bed. Lizzy wished they could spare the extra money to electrify the car. It would be much safer, less smelly, and far easier to manage an electric switch.

  Still pondering that matter, Lizzy helped her mother undress. She hung up the discarded clothes while her mother donned her nightgown.

  “Would you like me to help with your hair?”

  “No, I’m fine. You go ahead and get to bed yourself. I know you’re tired.”

  Lizzy smiled. “I’ll fetch you a glass of milk. I know you enjoy that before bed.”

  “No. Don’t bother.” Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just want to read my Bible for a while.” Her tears returned, and Lizzy knew it was better to just go.

  She slipped from the room and pulled the door shut behind her. Her own sleeping quarters were next to her mother’s. Close enough to hear her sobs well into the night. Lizzy prayed God would give her mother comfort.

  Maybe it was best not to marry. She couldn’t imagine the pain her mother was bearing. Losing a father was misery enough, but losing a lifelong companion had to be like losing part of yourself. An amputation of the very worst kind.

  Lizzy went into her small room, sat on the bed, and began unlacing her boots. She spied the pitcher of water, steam rising from the open top. The cleaning girl was no doubt responsible. Once she was rid of her boots, Lizzy poured some of the water into the bowl and washed her face, then began discarding her clothes.

  Just as she’d anticipated, her mother’s sobs could be heard through the thin wall. How Lizzy wished she could comfort her mother, but as Uncle Oliver had told her, this was a burden a wife or husband must bear alone. No one else understood the pain of a marriage severed. Especially when it involved a couple who had loved each other as deeply as Mark and Rebecca Brookstone had loved.

  Lizzy looked at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. Why would I ever want to experience that sorrow and pain? Loving Wes and being rejected was painful enough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to share his love and then have him die. No, the best way to avoid widowhood was to avoid love.

  She quickly finished washing up, then readied herself for bed. With her hair braided and nightgown in place, she extinguished the lamp before crawling beneath the covers. Her window was still open, and she heard Uncle Oliver conversing with someone as they drew near the car. No doubt he was settling last-minute problems before their railcars were hooked up to the next westbound locomotive. It was a strange life, living on the rails. Sometime in the next hour they’d feel the gentle—or not-so-gentle—bump of the cars being coupled, and then they’d begin to move as they were transported to their next stop. At each city where they performed, their eight cars were moved onto a siding, and there they would live until the performances were complete. It was an exciting life—seeing America, meeting new people. Lizzy had even met three presidents: Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, and William McKinley.

  When Lizzy was younger, her mother had always seen to it that they visited places of historic importance at each stop. Lizzy had learned so much along the way. The trips had always been something she looked forward to. Now, however, there was no joy. She was ready to be done with it all.

  “But then what?” Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

  The ranch in Montana was home, but without Father, it wouldn’t seem that way. Then there was Wesley. If she quit the show and stayed on the ranch with her mother, could they find a way to just be friends?

  “Can I find a way?” Lizzy gazed at the top of her berth, then closed her eyes.

  Her mind whirred with questions, but by the time the train car began to move, she was starting to fade off to sleep. Sadly, without any hope of answers.

  two

  Lizzy and her mother sat at the table, reading the local paper and eating a hot breakfast brought to them from their current stop. While the railroad men handled their routine business, Uncle Oliver had left the car to make certain the rest of Brookstone’s workforce had what they needed before the train started up again.

  “It says here that the Galveston hurricane last month may have killed as many as twelve thousand people,” Mother said, lowering the paper. “Can you imagine? Oliver told me there are only about two hundred thousand people in all of Montana.”

  “I can’t imagine it,” Lizzy admitted. “To think of that many people suddenly killed is beyond me. Those hurricanes must be terrible storms to endure. I hope we never encounter one.”

  “It says the loss of livestock and crops was unimaginable.” Mother shook her head. “Seems the newspaper is full of such sad things these days.”

  A knock sounded on the car door, but before Lizzy could get to her feet, it opened and her uncle peered inside.

  “Oh good, you’re both awake and ready to receive,” Uncle Oliver declared. “I want you to meet someone.”

  Lizzy stood and smiled as her uncle stepped into the ca
r. The young man who followed him was expensively clothed and nearly a head taller than Uncle Oliver. He carried himself like a man who had been brought up in privilege. He glanced around their accommodations, seeming to assess the situation. Lizzy wondered if he thought their little home on wheels quaint or appalling. Finally, his gaze settled on Lizzy and then Mother. He offered them a wide smile that seemed sincere enough and took off his hat.

  Uncle Oliver did likewise and offered an introduction. “This is Jason Adler. He joined us last night, but you ladies had already gone to bed.”

  Mother and Lizzy exchanged a look. Lizzy knew that Henry Adler was responsible for her father and uncle having the money to start their own wild west show back in the day, but she had no idea who Jason was. Better still, what was his purpose here?

  As if reading her thoughts, Uncle Oliver added clarity. “He’s the son of Henry Adler. Jason, this is my brother’s widow, Mrs. Rebecca Brookstone, and her daughter, Elizabeth.”

  Mother spoke first. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Adler. My husband spoke so highly of your father.”

  “And my father spoke highly of your husband. He sends his deepest regrets, Mrs. Brookstone.” Jason Adler gave a slight bow. He looked at Lizzy. “We are sorry for your loss as well, Miss Brookstone.”

  “Call her Lizzy,” Uncle Oliver declared. “Everyone does.”

  Lizzy wasn’t sure what Jason Adler was doing here, but she couldn’t deny that he was quite the dashing gentleman. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, and his accent clearly revealed his English heritage.

  “Jason has come on board to help me,” Uncle Oliver continued. “He has all sorts of ideas for benefiting the show.”

  “Won’t you join us?” Mother said. “There’s hot coffee and extra pastries, though I’m afraid if you want something hot to eat, we’ll have to send someone out.”

  “We’ve had our breakfast, Rebecca, but a cup of coffee would suit me right down to my boots. How about it, Jason? Coffee?”

  Jason Adler smiled. “I’d be happy to share coffee with two such lovely ladies.”

  The men put their hats aside and took the empty chairs at the small table for four. Lizzy retrieved extra cups and brought them to the table. She didn’t understand Jason’s purpose. Uncle Oliver said the Englishman had all sorts of ideas, but Lizzy couldn’t see any reason they needed his or his father’s thoughts on the show.

  Once Mother had poured the coffee and Uncle Oliver had made small talk about the weather, Lizzy decided to press the matter.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand the reason for having Mr. Adler join the show. You mentioned he has ideas for us, but I wasn’t aware that we needed . . . ideas.”

  She glanced at Mr. Adler to judge whether or not he’d taken offense. He seemed completely at ease, however, and merely sipped his black coffee. He met her gaze over the rim of his cup, and it looked to Lizzy as if there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. He seemed amused.

  Uncle Oliver, on the other hand, looked a bit sheepish. “Well . . . you see . . . a while back, I sold part of the show to Henry Adler.”

  “What?” the women questioned in unison.

  Jason Adler slowly lowered his cup while Uncle Oliver held up his hands. “It’s a long story, but the show has been struggling to make a profit. I thought some fresh ideas might benefit us. Mr. Adler has proven very helpful in the past.”

  “Still, you should have discussed it with Mother, at least. She speaks in place of my father now,” Lizzy replied. She knew her tone revealed her outrage.

  To his credit, Jason Adler said nothing.

  “I think in time you’ll see how good this will be for us. Jason’s ideas are good ones—things I know your father would have approved.”

  What could she say to that? If Lizzy even thought to argue, it would no doubt bring on another round of tears from her mother. No opinion was worth causing her mother pain.

  For several minutes and another cup of coffee, her uncle explained that the Adlers were devoted to the best interests of the Brookstone family.

  Finally, Jason spoke up. “My father—in fact, my entire family—is eternally grateful for what your father and uncle did for us. He often speaks of the hunting trip in the Rockies that your father and uncle guided him on. The fact that they saved his life will never be forgotten. Now, if there is a way for us to help you save the show, then we want to do whatever we can.”

  “Save the show?” Lizzy asked, looking to her uncle. “What is he talking about?”

  Again, her uncle looked uncomfortable. “The fact is, we can’t go on like this. There isn’t enough money to go around. We’re barely able to make our payroll.”

  “But we’re always sold out.” Lizzy knew there was a great deal of pride in her voice, but she couldn’t help herself. “We have more towns asking for performances than we can say yes to.”

  “Indeed,” Jason said. “It’s more a matter of management. There are ways to save money and economize. Your father and uncle were not . . . well . . .”

  “We weren’t schooled for such things, Lizzy,” Uncle Oliver said. “We’ve managed as best we could, but Jason here is educated. He and his father both attended college, and they’ve run all sorts of businesses and know how to manage money better than I do.”

  A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Lizzy got up to answer it, and Jason stood quickly to help her from her chair. She didn’t feel very hospitable toward him but forced herself to be polite. “Thank you.”

  She opened the door to find Agnes, the show’s head seamstress. “Mrs. Brookstone,” she called from the platform, “I wonder if you could come to the costume room when you have time.”

  Mother started to rise, and again Jason was there to lend a hand. She gave him a warm smile, much more sincere than the one Lizzy had offered him. “I’ll come right now.” She looked to the men. “If you’ll excuse me. Oliver, I trust you to manage the matter. You’ve always had our best interests at heart.”

  “August asked me to tell Mr. Brookstone that he needed to consult him on a matter related to the horses,” Agnes added. “He said he needed to speak to you before we pulled out of the station.”

  Uncle Oliver got to his feet. “Jason, perhaps you could stay and explain some of your ideas to Lizzy. I want you two to become good friends.”

  Lizzy didn’t want to contradict her uncle even though sitting and talking with Jason was the last thing she wanted to do. She walked back to the table and found Jason waiting to help her with her chair. She certainly couldn’t fault his manners.

  Once she was seated and the others had departed, Lizzy looked at Jason. Previously he had been seated beside her, but now he took the seat opposite her, where Mother had been sitting. His expression was concerned. “I suppose this is a rather uncomfortable situation for you.”

  “Uncomfortable isn’t the word I would choose.” She shrugged. “I’m confused and concerned, but not uncomfortable.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” His blue eyes sparkled, and his expression relaxed. “I wouldn’t like you to feel uncomfortable in my presence. Like your uncle, I very much want us to be friends.”

  Lizzy tried to put aside her suspicion. “Why don’t you explain your money-saving ideas? Then perhaps I’ll be less concerned and confused.”

  “I’d be happy to.” He tugged absentmindedly at the cuffs of his shirt. “As you know, a show such as yours is hardly guaranteed an income. There are all sorts of overhead costs and unexpected problems.”

  “Isn’t that true of all industries?”

  “Quite right. However, a performance-based industry such as yours has many variables that other businesses might never have to concern themselves with. Your business is in constant motion. You take it on the road, and for most of the year you go from place to place. The wear and tear takes its toll. The business is also dependent on living, breathing beings, both human and animal, for its success. That only serves to increase the risk and expense.”


  “But all industry and business requires living, breathing beings.” Lizzy didn’t know why she felt so at odds with Jason. He was only trying to help, she supposed, but he wasn’t family, and the fact that he would be allowed to help make decisions in their business irritated her sense of balance.

  He shifted in his seat and gave a hint of a shrug. “It’s true that any business is only as good as the individuals running and working it. However, Brookstone’s adds an additional element to that. In other industries, when a worker is injured or falls ill, there are many others who can step in to manage their position. The same is true for industries reliant upon horses. However, in your situation, that isn’t the case.”

  Lizzy had to concede he was right. “I understand what you’re saying. It wouldn’t be possible to suddenly procure animals as well-trained as my horses, should something happen to them.”

  “Exactly so.” He smiled. “Even harder to replace the rider.” His right brow rose, as if daring her to contradict him.

  Lizzy remained silent but gave a nod.

  “The most important thing is to assure quality housing and care for yourselves as well as your stock. I’d like to see the railcars inspected and repairs made. There are new, safer ways to transport horses, for instance. I can show you some of the designs I have with me. Perhaps later, when we’re actually on our way.”

  “Yes, I’d like to see what you have in mind.”

  “The key is to keep both performers and livestock at their optimum health and ability. After all, venues will hardly pay if there is no performance.”

  “I imagine our contracts allow for some sort of compensation.”

  Jason shook his head. “The contracts created by your father and uncle were hardly more than handshakes and letters. In the twentieth century, attention to detail is required. My father had our solicitor put together some sample contracts that we might use. We can discuss this when the time is right.”

  She felt her anger building. “I see. So our problem is that my uncle and father mismanaged the show?”