When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  “I think it’s going to the north, if you’re worried,” Owen said.

  “I’m not worried about the storm.”

  He pushed his hand through his black hair. “Then what, Mary? I know you’re grieving, but it’s something more. You’ve been this way for weeks, even before August.”

  Mary looked at him and nodded. “I’ve really tried, Owen. You know that. You know that I love you—but not like a wife should.”

  His shoulders slumped. His expression emptied of emotion. “Yeah. I know.”

  “There is no other man, save my brother and grandfather, who I’ve ever loved as much as you. But . . . we’re like brother and sister. You have to admit you feel the same way. I’ve seen it in your eyes after a kiss.”

  He leaned back against the porch rail and nodded. “I just figured love would grow.”

  Mary moved closer to him. “But we already have bushels of love between us. It’s just not a romantic love. It never has been.”

  “Maybe it’s better that it’s not.” He looked up, and Mary gazed into his green eyes. “Maybe folks put too much stock in romantic love.”

  “I don’t think so. I think God intends for husbands and wives to feel romantic toward each other.” She smiled. “I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit you want that kind of love—that passion.”

  For several long moments, Owen said nothing. Mary watched him turn and look out at the storm. A flash of lightning cut across the sky, and thunder followed within seconds. The wind picked up, and the rain fell a little harder.

  “I guess the storm is coming our way after all,” he murmured.

  She touched his arm. “Owen, we will always be friends, but I don’t think that would be true if we married.”

  “No. I don’t suppose it would be. I just hate being alone. Since my folks passed on, that farm feels so empty. I thought a wife and family would make it feel like home again.”

  She forced him to turn and face her. “It will be home again. You’ll find someone—probably sooner rather than later.” She smiled. “You’re a very handsome man, you know.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Just not handsome enough to win you.”

  “That’s hardly fair, Owen. Should I say I’m not pretty enough to win you?”

  He shook his head. “No, Mary. You’re right, and I know it. I know we’re better off this way, but I still can’t help feeling like someone has knocked me off the fence. I’ve been planning to marry you for well over twenty years. Probably longer, if I’m honest with myself.”

  “Well, now you have to make a different plan. Good thing the crops are in, huh?” Her smile widened, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled as well.

  “I suppose you’ll rejoin the wild west show.”

  “Yes. That’s what I plan to do. Like I told you, I don’t believe August’s death was an accident. I think someone intentionally put him at risk from those colts. Lizzy said some Fleming employees have reason to be angry with my brother. Maybe angry enough to want him dead. I intend to find out who they are.”

  “And how do you suppose to do that?” Lightning flashed again, followed by thunder, but it was evident the heart of the storm was moving to the north just as Owen had predicted.

  “Ella will know who they were, but after that, I don’t know how to go about proving one of them had a part in it,” Mary admitted. “And it’s possible that they had nothing to do with it. It could have been someone else who had it in for August.”

  “And it could have just been an accident.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. It doesn’t add up. August knew better, and he wouldn’t have put himself in harm’s way. Not unless there was a very good reason, and I need to know that reason.”

  “And you think someone will just up and tell you the truth?” Owen shook his head. “That’s not likely.”

  “I figure if I’m part of the show again, I’ll have a better time of it than on my own. I’m going to Montana with the Brookstones. That way I can ask my questions and listen in on conversations without seeming overly pushy for answers. Then there’s that Fleming woman. August was killed at her place. I don’t know what her story is, but she might have some idea what happened or who I can ask for more information. If nothing else, she can give me the address for her family, and I can write and ask my questions.”

  “And you really think they’ll just provide them? I mean, if they were the ones to blame for his death, they’re hardly going to admit that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose they will.” Mary crossed her arms. “But I have to try. August didn’t deserve to die that way, and I feel obligated to dig for the truth.”

  “What if you never learn the truth?”

  She met his gaze. “At least I’ll have tried.”

  He nodded, and for several long moments silence hung between them. Finally, Owen rubbed his jaw. “Looks like things are calming down. I think I’ll head on home.” He touched her shoulder. “We’re still friends, right?”

  “Always.” She put her hand over his. “I will always be your friend, Owen.”

  “And you’ll let your grandparents know?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Will you tell the pastor, since I’ll be heading out with Lizzy and the others?”

  “Of course. I’m sure word will get around quick enough.”

  He studied her face for a moment, then without another word headed down the steps and off to the barn. It was still raining, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

  Mary heard the door open behind her and turned. It was Kate. Her sister frowned as she saw Owen’s retreating figure.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “Home.”

  “But why?” Kate asked. “It’s not that late, and it’s still raining.”

  “It’ll stop soon enough.” Mary hugged her arms to her body. There was a distinct chill to the wet autumn air.

  “Did you two have a fight?” Kate asked.

  “Not exactly.” Mary met Kate’s curious gaze. “We just finally admitted that we can’t marry each other.”

  “What?” Kate was clearly shocked.

  “I can’t marry my brother, and that’s all I feel toward Owen. And he was finally honest enough to admit he lacks the same passion for me.” Mary let her arms relax. “I love him, but only as a brother and a friend. I just can’t marry him with nothing more to offer.”

  For several minutes they stood in silence. When the barn door opened and Owen led out his saddled horse, Mary gave a wave.

  “Hopefully I’ll see you next year!” she called.

  “I’ll be here,” he said, then climbed into the saddle and headed for the road.

  “What do you mean, you’ll see him next year?” Kate asked.

  Mary felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I’m rejoining the show. I’m leaving with Lizzy and the others tonight.”

  “What?” Kate took hold of her. “Do Oma and Opa know?”

  “No, but I intend to go inside and make my announcement. I figure I might as well break the news about everything at once.”

  Kate still held fast to Mary’s arm. “I can’t believe you’re just going to leave. We only just lost August, and now you.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I miss the show, and frankly, if it’s possible, I want to find out what really happened to August. Surely you can’t begrudge me that.”

  “I don’t begrudge you anything.” Kate let go and stepped back. “But I’ll miss you. It was lonely around here without you.”

  Mary smiled. “You’ll find plenty of things to keep busy with now that you’re teaching. Who knows, you might even end up moving to Topeka.”

  “No. I don’t want to live in the city.” Kate bit her lip and looked away for a moment. “Mary?”

  “What?” She’d never seen her sister act this way. It was almost as if she were embarrassed.

  “I wonder . . . that is, if you wouldn’t be offended . . .”
She couldn’t seem to spit out the words.

  “What are you talking about? If I wouldn’t be offended by what?” Mary could see the hesitation on her sister’s face. “Just ask me.”

  “I know it may be in bad taste, but I wondered if you mind if I . . . well, I’d like to seek out Owen . . . for myself.”

  Mary couldn’t help a giggle. “Wait. You’re sweet on Owen?”

  Kate seemed to relax as she nodded. “I’ve been in love with him for ages. I just didn’t let anybody know because I knew he was your intended.”

  Mary took Kate in her arms and hugged her. “Oh, that would be an absolute answer to prayer, little sister. Owen won’t have to go far to look for love, and I won’t have to worry about losing you to some city slicker.”

  “Do you mean it?” Kate asked, pushing away. “You really won’t be offended or feel awkward? I mean . . . what if we married?”

  “It would be wonderful. Even better if you could persuade him to fall in love immediately and take our wedding date and save him from a lonely winter.”

  Kate blushed. “That would be pushing things rather quickly, don’t you think?”

  Mary shrugged. “Maybe. But I have a feeling that once you set out to win his heart, things are going to move fast.”

  Wes waved to the engineer as the train pulled away, leaving the Brookstone Wild West Extravaganza’s red railcars behind. They had a special arrangement with the railroad at Miles City, and the cars would be left on a siding there for the winter so repairs and repainting could be done.

  It was good to see the show’s work crew again. Most of the men were longtime ranch workers, and Wes was good friends with them. He noted a couple of strangers, but old Thomas made short work of introductions.

  “Wes, this is Judd and Richard. We picked them up shortly after Mr. Brookstone passed away.”

  Wes extended his hand. “Good to meet you men.”

  “They worked cleanup and helped with the equipment. They’re good healthy boys and not afraid of hard work,” Thomas said.

  “Well, we have plenty of that.” Wes made a quick assessment of the men. They were both muscular but definitely looked like city boys. “You two have any ranch experience?”

  “No, sir,” they replied in unison.

  “I grew up in the city, but I love horses,” Judd offered.

  “Me too,” Richard admitted. “I did help at a dairy once. I know how to milk and shovel manure.”

  Wes smiled. “We’ve got a couple of milk cows and plenty of manure. For the most part it’s horses and cattle that you’ll be working with. I can use good hands, but the hours are long and dark in the winter. Cold too. Either of you afraid of that?”

  The two men exchanged a look, then returned their attention to Wes. “No, sir.” Again, the reply came in unison.

  “Good. The cows will start calving in January, and we’ll need everyone out there helping. Thomas and the others can show you around once we get back to the ranch. Right now we’ve got to get these cars unloaded, and that means everything. We strip ’em and leave only what’s nailed down.”

  “I’ll put them to work, boss,” Thomas said.

  Wesley smiled. He was at least half Thomas’s age, but the old man had called him “boss” since the day Wes took the foreman position after old Gus died.

  Before the men left to start unloading, Phillip joined them.

  “Oh, I have someone I want you fellas to meet as well.” Wes put his hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “This is my brother, Phillip. He joined us a little while back.”

  Thomas shook the younger man’s hand while the other two sized up Phillip. They weren’t that far apart in age.

  “Good to meet you, son,” Thomas declared. “I’ve been friends with your brother for a long time now. He’s a good man.”

  Wes felt as if Thomas were questioning whether Phillip was the same. Phillip only grinned and nodded, then looked at the younger two men.

  “Wes!” Mrs. Brookstone called from the family car. She waved, then allowed one of the men to help her down the steps.

  His heart caught in his throat at the sight of her black gown. She was in mourning. He’d thought many times about how different the winter would be without Mark to advise him. He’d even thought about how the ranch would be run, but he hadn’t thought much about Mark’s widow. She looked so small and pale in black.

  Wes frowned. “Phillip, you go on with Thomas, and he’ll put you to work. I need to tend to some things before we can head back to the ranch.”

  “Sure thing, Wes.”

  Wesley watched the group of men head off as he walked to where Rebecca Brookstone stood waiting. Thomas was already talking to the trio of younger men about their duties. Phillip seemed to be listening intently—or at least Wesley hoped he was. He’d been good at tending to his assigned duties these last days, but he never volunteered to do anything more than what was expected. Wes had talked to him about how people—especially those in charge—liked to see their employees go the extra mile.

  “It never hurts to offer to do more than what’s expected of you,” Wesley had told him. “There’s always extra work to do.”

  “Then why not just ask someone to do it?” Phillip had replied. It made no sense to him that people would just wait around to see if he might volunteer to do more. He was there to work a job and do what he was told. After that, he expected his time to be his own.

  Phillip was twelve years Wesley’s junior and was born after his mother had lost half a dozen other babies. Because of that, he was spoiled and doted on. He’d always been such a sweet-natured child, however, that even Wesley didn’t mind the extra attention Phillip had received.

  “You seem mighty deep in thought, Wesley.”

  He noted Mrs. Brookstone’s kind but tired expression. “My thoughts are all over the place these days.” He smiled. “Did you see that man who headed off with Thomas and the others?”

  “I did. New hand?”

  “My brother.”

  “Phillip, right?” she asked, her gaze following his toward the group of men.

  “Yes.” He was surprised she remembered. Wes continued watching his brother. “I haven’t heard from him in years, and one day he just showed up. I hired him on, but I don’t know if it’ll work out or not.”

  “We have to give folks a chance to prove themselves. Sometimes they just don’t realize what they’re good at.”

  He turned to face her and smiled. “Mr. Brookstone was always telling me that. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that he’s gone.” There, the subject was now open.

  She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I miss him so much. Life won’t be the same without him.”

  “I’ve thought a lot about that and about the ranch. I hope you know I’ll do whatever I can to make sure things run smoothly.”

  She smiled, but it was a sad sort of effort. “I know you will.”

  “Wes,” a voice called out. He turned to find Rupert limping toward him.

  Rebecca Brookstone put her hand on Wes’s arm. “You’ve got a lot to do. Come have supper with me tomorrow night. I want to talk to you about several things.” She headed off before Wes could respond.

  Rupert tipped his hat at Mrs. Brookstone as she passed him. “Well, you look fit as a fiddle,” Rupert said to Wes, grinning. He thrust out a stack of papers. “Oliver wanted me to give you these. It’s the inventory list of what we started out with.”

  Wes looked through the papers quickly. This was the routine when the show returned. “I’ll have a better look tonight. Just make sure the boys put everything in the arena first so we can check it off the list.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Wes folded the papers and tucked them inside his shirt. “How’s the leg?”

  “Hurts like the devil, but it’s better up here where it’s dry. That damp air just sets it to aching somethin’ fierce.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Rupert frowned. “You heard about August, I suppose.”r />
  “Yes. Oliver sent me a telegram.” It was hard to believe the young man was gone. August had been so good to work with, and Wesley had hoped he might be able to teach Phillip a thing or two.

  “We could hardly believe it. Still not sure what to think. It wasn’t likely for a horse to get the better of that boy.” Rupert shook his head.

  “No, you’re right there. August was never lax when it came to horses. Even if he was handling the gentlest of animals, he knew better than to let his guard down.” Wes didn’t want to ask about Lizzy, but he couldn’t help wondering. “Uh . . . how’d the rest of the troupe take the news?”

  Rupert shrugged. “It was hard on everyone. Especially since we’d already lost Mark.”

  “I’m sure his loss was terribly hard on everyone, especially Mrs. Brookstone and Lizzy.”

  “She’s a tough one, though,” Rupert said, nodding and scratching his bearded chin. “Ain’t never seen a woman quite like her.”

  Wes smiled. “Mrs. Brookstone has always been the epitome of strength.”

  “That she has, but I was talking about our Lizzy. She stepped into her father’s shoes as best as anyone could. She never even stopped to shed a tear or miss a show. She’s quite a gal.”

  Wesley could imagine Lizzy shouldering her father’s responsibilities. She would want to protect her mother. She was always trying to bear burdens that didn’t belong to her.

  “I’ve got a feeling a lot of things will be changin’ now that Mark’s gone. I know Mrs. Brookstone plans to quit the show.”

  Wes wasn’t surprised by this. “I’m sure it’s been really hard on her. We expected her to return home with the coffin.”

  “She wanted to, but Mark made her promise she’d stay on. Made Lizzy promise too. They both put up a fuss, but he said it had to be that way. The show must go on.”

  Wesley nodded. “No doubt he was worried about the financial aspects.” He wondered what Lizzy’s plans were for the future. If her mother was quitting, perhaps she would as well.

  “Oh,” Rupert said, “Oliver said to tell you that, barring any railroad complication, they would only be a day or so behind us, but he didn’t want you to wait here on his account. He said to leave horses and tack, and they’ll ride out to the ranch.”