When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  “Well, I just want to let you know that I’ll be riding back to the train to get some of our own liniment and salve. I didn’t want anyone wonderin’ where I’d gotten off to, and the other boys are in town for a night of fun.”

  “That’s fine, August. Since the horses are in the pasture, I don’t foresee any problems. I’ll let my uncle know when he’s finished with Mr. Fleming.” She gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps I’ll even mention what happened in front of Mr. Fleming so that it doesn’t happen again. There’s nothing quite like embarrassing a man in front of his guests to bring about better behavior.”

  August shook his head. “Or worse.”

  five

  Wesley DeShazer sorted through the stack of bills. He had taken a chance and bought extra feed and hay. The old-timers felt certain it was going to be a bad winter. Maybe not as bad at ’86–’87, but sure to be rough. Eastern Montana wasn’t known to be kind when the months turned bitter.

  He leaned back in the well-worn leather chair and stretched his arms over his head. The show folks would soon return to the ranch, and that would mean extra work and animals. Extra men to help with the herd as well.

  It also meant Elizabeth Brookstone would be in residence. He tried not to think about her, but once in a while her memory snuck in like a fox to the henhouse.

  He’d first met Lizzy when she was no more than a scrawny tomboy yet already an accomplished equestrian. He had marveled at how she could crawl all over the body of her mount at a full gallop. He could still see her standing on the back of her horse, her dark brown hair flying out behind her and her arms raised heavenward, as if she might be able to touch the sky.

  As a child, Lizzy had been carefree and inquisitive. She’d taken to Wes immediately and hung around him like a faithful puppy. He pretended to be annoyed, but they both knew he didn’t mind. He was barely a man doing his first real job and so homesick that having a little sister around, chattering about whatever popped into her head, made life away from home bearable.

  It wasn’t long before he met Clarissa Strong in Miles City—or Milestown, as some of the old-timers called it. She was the only daughter to a sickly mother and an abusive father. Her father was a good-for-nothing drunk who seemed to take special delight in tormenting his wife and child. Mrs. Strong worked at taking in laundry and mending, and Mr. Strong worked occasionally helping the blacksmith. His real job, however, seemed to be drinking up whatever earnings they made. It got to be so bad that Clarissa had to leave school and get a job at the local bakery in order to keep a roof over their heads.

  They barely scraped by, and Wes had always felt sorry for them. Clarissa in particular. Her father thought nothing of hitting her for the most minor offense. It wasn’t at all unusual to see her with a black eye, or hobbling because her father had kicked her repeatedly. Wes had wanted to confront the old man, but Clarissa told him it would only make matters worse.

  When her mother died, things took a truly grim turn. Her father’s anger surged, and it wasn’t long before he wasn’t even allowed in the local drinking halls. No one wanted to deal with his violent temper. Clarissa had barely turned eighteen when her father got himself killed in a fight. After that, Clarissa had few choices. She could marry one of the local cowboys or find a job that paid enough to support her in the tiny shack her father had leased. Bakery work certainly couldn’t pay enough, and Clarissa hadn’t the skills to earn more. Wesley had felt obligated to help her and proposed marriage.

  They’d both known it wasn’t a love match. Wes was fond of Clarissa, but more than anything, he wanted to save her from a plight worse than death. Clarissa had known her prospects were limited and eagerly accepted his offer. Plenty of men wanted her, but most were like her father, and the decent ones were just as bad off financially as she was. Wesley was the better choice. He had a good job—a foreman at a ranch—with his own little cabin to live in.

  When Wes returned to the ranch with a wife in tow, the Brookstone family had been congratulatory and generous. Mrs. Brookstone went to work immediately to dress up his bachelor cabin. Not only that, but she’d taken Clarissa under her wing and helped her learn all she needed to know about ranch life.

  Lizzy, however, hadn’t taken the news well at all. He hadn’t registered it then, but she and Clarissa were the same age, or nearly so. Lizzy had declared herself in love with him, but he’d figured it was just the silly notion of a little girl that would pass soon enough. Instead, Lizzy had been truly hurt by his marriage.

  For weeks he hadn’t understood her attitude toward him. It took her father’s comment one day to open Wesley’s eyes to the truth.

  “It’ll take time for her to get used to you having another woman in your life,” Mark Brookstone had told him after Lizzy snubbed Wes during branding. “But her heart will mend in time.”

  Wes banged his fist on the desk. Thinking about the past wasn’t going to get his work done. The Brookstones would soon be home, and he needed to be able to account for the year to Oliver rather than to his brother Mark. Wes was sad that Lizzy’s father was gone. He had been good to work for, and he’d always known how to coax Wes to talk about what troubled him and then given great advice. But now he was dead. The ranch wouldn’t be the same without him.

  Without warning, Wes’s office door opened. Matt, one of the hands, gave a nod toward something behind him. “Fella here says he needs to see you. Says he’s your brother.”

  Wesley’s eyes narrowed. Phillip? Here? “Send him in.”

  Wes gathered his papers and ledger and stuffed them into the top drawer. He got to his feet just as his brother strolled into the room, acting as if they had seen each other only the day before.

  Phillip grinned. “I guess you’re surprised to see me.”

  The reply stuck in Wes’s throat. He hadn’t seen his kid brother since their father’s funeral. Wes had been a bridegroom only a few months when word came that their father had been killed. He’d seen Phillip at the funeral, but not again—until now, over ten years later.

  But it was Phillip, as sure as they lived and breathed. He was taller, but not by much, and still scrawny, although as Phillip pulled off his coat, Wes could see he’d muscled up over the years.

  “I know I’ve given you a shock, but you could at least say something,” Phillip declared.

  “I guess I’m not sure what to say.” Wes sat back down and just stared.

  “Well, maybe you could say you’re glad to see me. Or maybe, ‘How are you doin’?’”

  “Or how about ‘Where have you been?’ Or ‘Why didn’t you bother to show up when our mother died?’” Wes asked in a snide tone. Anger was beginning to replace his surprise.

  Phillip held out his hands. “That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t hear about it until the day of the funeral, and I wasn’t able to leave.” He grinned. “I was a guest of the city jail in Cheyenne.” He pulled up a chair and turned it around backwards before plopping down. He leaned his arms across the back. “I would have come if I could. Ma knew how I felt. I’m sure she forgave me.”

  Wes clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to fight with his brother—not when it was the first time they’d seen each other in a decade. “Where have you been?”

  “Everywhere. Mostly Wyoming.” Phillip gave a shrug. “Been workin’ wherever I could get hired on. I’m good with horses, like you. There ain’t a mount I can’t break.”

  “Is that a fact?” Wes crossed his arms. He really was glad to see Phillip. He’d feared his brother was running with outlaws or dead.

  Phillip laughed. “You know I always liked to do whatever my big brother could do . . . only better.”

  “I reckon I do.”

  “Well, I heard you were still up this way and figured it was about time I checked up on you. Thought you might be glad to see me.”

  Wesley nodded. “I am. I would have been glad to see you nine years ago or even five at Ma’s funeral. I would have been glad just to get a letter. Do you have any idea how worried w
e were about you?”

  “Ma always said worry was a sin.” Phillip straightened and gave another of his good-natured smiles. “Besides, I wrote Ma twice.”

  Wes shook his head. “Twice in how many years?”

  Phillip smacked the back of the chair. “That’s all in the past. I can’t make up for it now. I thought maybe we could just put it behind us.”

  “Funny how people who’ve done wrong are always the first to want everyone to forget about it.”

  “Well, we were always told that good Christians were supposed to forgive and forget. Ma would have wanted that.”

  For all that Phillip was twenty-six years old, Wesley couldn’t help seeing him as a little boy. There had been times when their father had taken Phillip to task for one offense or another, and Phillip had sat before him with the same look on his face. He was so willing to receive correction, but just as willing to turn around and repeat the wrongdoing. Their folks were hard-pressed to get mad, however. Phillip was just too sweet, and his joyful countenance made it impossible to stay mad at him.

  But Wesley wasn’t sure he felt that way anymore. His brother had broken their mother’s heart by disappearing after Pa’s funeral. With each week that passed without word, she’d grown more concerned that Phillip might have fallen on hard times, gotten sick, or maybe even died. She refused to move to the ranch where Wes could take care of her for fear that Phillip would come home and not know where to find her. Then a letter would finally come, and all of Ma’s worries were forgotten.

  Until another stretch of time passed without word.

  Yes, there had been two letters. She’d read both until the writing was faded and barely legible. She’d held on to the hope that there would be more letters and that Phillip would one day return to her, but that day never came. How was Wesley supposed to forgive and forget that?

  “You mustn’t hold it against him,” Ma had said just before succumbing to her sickness. “He doesn’t know what he’s done—how he’s hurt us. He never meant to hurt anyone. That was never his way. Forgive him, Wes.”

  The memory of his mother’s words haunted him. She would have welcomed Phillip with open arms and never questioned the missing years. But Wes wasn’t his mother, and he didn’t know if he could forgive.

  “What do you want, Phillip?” Wes finally asked, unable to find any peace in his heart.

  Phillip’s grin reappeared. “Why, that’s simple. A job.”

  “Now can you tell me what’s wrong?” Lizzy asked as she and Ella began their ride across the large open pasture the next day.

  “I’ll try, but you must swear to say nothing.” Ella rode beside Lizzy on her favorite gelding. She called him Pepper because of his black coat. “If word ever got back to my father . . . well, it wouldn’t be pleasant. You saw how angry he was last night when you mentioned what happened to your wrangler.”

  “I was surprised by how enraged he became. It was terrible when he promised to whip the grooms involved. I’ve never heard of such things in this day and age. So don’t worry, I promise your father and the others will hear nothing of it from me,” Lizzy assured.

  “As you know, I’m supposed to marry in December.”

  “Yes, but I get the feeling it isn’t what you want.” Lizzy looked over at Ella with unwavering concern. “And frankly I can’t fault you for that.”

  “I don’t want to marry him. Jefferson is old enough to be my father. Well, nearly so. He is Father’s dearest friend and confidant. They have many business dealings between them, and I happen to be one of them.”

  Lizzy looked away, as if contemplating the landscape. “It’s 1900. Arranged marriages went out of fashion long ago.”

  “Not here. Proper young ladies only marry with their father’s approval, and often that approval is only given in arranged marriages.” Ella glanced over her shoulder, still not completely comfortable discussing the matter aloud. “But I am afraid I can’t be a proper young lady. Not if it means marrying Jefferson. He’s cruel and lewd. I’ve heard horrible rumors about him. They say he has not one, but three mistresses.”

  “Good grief!” Lizzy turned to her with a look of stunned disbelief. “Three?”

  Ella nodded. “He has a reputation for being with women of all kinds, and he gambles and deceives. Whenever he’s here and we’re alone, he tries to take liberties.”

  “Have you mentioned it to your father? Surely he doesn’t approve.”

  “I tried to talk to Father. He told me Jefferson is just overcome with love for me and anxious for us to wed. I mentioned the other women, but Father told me that men of power have needs that go beyond the home. He said that I need to concern myself only with being a wife and mother and that I’m not to listen to any of the rumors. But how can I not? And how can I bear a life with that man?”

  “Why can’t you just refuse to marry him?”

  Ella’s shoulders slumped. “Father said he would force me if I refused.”

  “But surely a minister would insist on your being willing.”

  “Father has powerful people on his side. He told me he would have one of his judge friends sign all the papers and declare us married, even without my permission. Almost every man in the county owes my father for something.”

  Lizzy considered that for a moment, then spoke. “But wouldn’t that be an embarrassment to the family? I know reputations down here are important. If the community knew that he’d forced you to marry against your will, wouldn’t that bring shame upon him?”

  “He wouldn’t allow me to say anything of the kind. I’m sure I’d be whisked away and locked in a room with Jefferson until I agreed to cooperate. I heard Father tell Jefferson that he’d be wise to get me with child as soon as possible.” She shook her head. “Like I’m a brood mare and nothing more. Certainly not a cherished daughter.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Why don’t you leave? Didn’t you tell me you have a sister in Chicago? Surely you could go live with her.”

  “They won’t allow it. I’m virtually a prisoner. If I showed up in town to purchase a train ticket, my father would hear about it and drag me back home. Either him or Jefferson.”

  They rode on in silence for some time. It was clear there was no easy solution, but Ella couldn’t help hoping that Lizzy might have an idea. God knew, Ella was out of ideas herself. She’d tried praying for direction, but God seemed strangely silent.

  “What about your friends?” Lizzy asked after some time. “Isn’t there someone nearby who could help you get away?

  “My girlhood friends are all married with families of their own. I’ve lived a very secluded life the last two years. Once my betrothal was formally announced, Father and Jefferson sought to keep me away from my friends. They always make excuses for why I’m not at various parties. I attend church with Mother and Father, and of course Jefferson, but I’m not allowed to be alone or say much to anyone.”

  “And no one thinks this strange?” Lizzy asked. Her tone was astonished. “What’s wrong with the people around here?”

  “They are in my father’s debt, for one thing. His or Jefferson’s. No one questions their actions or deeds. Those who benefit from them are more than happy to keep the truth from being known, and those who would protest or condemn are quickly silenced or ruined.”

  The sun was rapidly sliding toward the horizon, and Ella knew they’d soon have to return to the house and dress for supper. “I’m sorry for involving you in this, Lizzy. You don’t deserve having to listen to all of this.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. I had no idea anything like this was happening . . . or could happen.” Lizzy looked around. “How were you allowed to come out alone with me?”

  Ella tried to appear nonchalant. “I didn’t tell them. Father was busy with your uncle and Mr. Adler, and Jefferson wasn’t here. I’m sure once they figure it out, Father will send someone to find us.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ella. I don’t know what to do. We�
�ll be gone so soon.”

  Ella could hear the sincerity in Lizzy’s voice. A thought came to her, sparked by her friend’s words. “I don’t know how we might pull it off, but perhaps I could . . . sneak away with the show.”

  “What?” Lizzy pulled back on the reins. A smile broke across her face. “Why, that’s a brilliant idea. No one would ever expect that.”

  Ella felt hope wash over her. “I know it would be a risk, but I think if I could just get out of town and far enough from here, I could catch a train to Chicago, where my sister lives.”

  She could see that Lizzy was pondering how to make it work. “We’re heading back to town around noon tomorrow. Mother has some shopping to see to, and I promised I’d help. Then there are the other performers’ needs to take care of. Our horses won’t be rounded up until evening, however.”

  Ella nodded, remembering that the Brookstones’ horses had been given one of the Flemings’ pastures. “I could feign a headache and retire early, then sneak out and ride in.”

  “But how would you get to the train? That’s several miles from here. And you’d be in town, so someone might see you.”

  “I’ll get Mara to help me. She can get Elijah to take my horse out to the edge of the trees. When it’s good and dark and Father is busy with seeing your horses returned, I can ride into town through the woods. None of our people will accompany the horses back to town, just yours.”

  “If you can manage to meet August down the road, I can get him to put your horse in with the others. He’s our head wrangler and loyal to a fault. He’ll keep our secret. Do you think Mara could help you to dress like one of the wranglers?”

  Ella brightened. “You want me to look like a boy . . . a man.”

  “Yes. When you reach town, you’ll appear to be one of the Brookstone workers. August can board your horse with the others and then show you which car is mine. You’ll stay with me and Mother. Once the horses are loaded, we’ll leave with the late train bound for St. Louis.”

  “It sounds like it could work.” Ella could feel her burden lighten.