“I’ll arrange for his horse and Lizzy’s.”
“You’ll need two more. One for Mr. Adler, and then Miss Fleming’s horse.” He looked around and pointed. “That black that’s being unloaded over yonder belongs to Miss Ella Fleming.”
Wes was puzzled by this new development. “I don’t understand. Who is she?”
“She’s a pretty little thing. Ran away from Fleming Farm. Nobody knew about it but me and Mrs. Brookstone and Lizzy, although I ’spect by now Oliver and Mr. Adler know about it well enough. So it’d be best not to say anything about the young lady. I think they’re afeared her pa might try to hunt her down and force her back.”
Wes couldn’t imagine what kind of intrigue Lizzy had gotten herself caught up in this time. “All right, I’ll make sure the black stays. And what of this Mr. Adler? You aren’t talking about that old man the brothers saved on that hunting trip years ago, are you?”
Rupert shook his head and chuckled. “Nope. It’s his son. He’s supposed to learn all about the wild west show and help with the management.”
This took Wesley completely by surprise. “Why in the world would Oliver need his help?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Rupert said with a shrug. “I heard some talk that Oliver sold Mr. Adler some shares in the show, but I couldn’t say for sure that’s true. It was just rumors and such.”
“Well, I suppose that would make sense. If Adler has an interest in the show, he might feel the need to send his son to familiarize himself with the workings.” Wes didn’t like the sound of that. It was never good news when folks outside of a family business came in and had their say.
Rupert didn’t look overly fond of the idea either. “Like I said, there’s gonna be changes.”
twelve
The next night, Wes sat across from Rebecca Brookstone at supper. He wondered what she wanted to discuss with him.
After he offered grace, she picked up the platter of chicken. “I’m glad you’re here to run things, Wes. Mark put great store in you, and I know Oliver feels the same.” She gave Wes several pieces of fried chicken, then put a single piece on her own plate. Next, she dished out mashed potatoes. She nodded to the gravy. “Help yourself. Biscuits will be out of the oven in a few minutes.” She added potatoes to her plate, then put the bowl on the table. “What’s the talk about winter?”
Wes poured gravy on his potatoes. “Some of the old-timers think there’s going to be a lot of snow and cold temperatures. I laid in extra hay, since we didn’t have but two cuttings.”
“That was a good idea. Better get extra grain too.”
“I’ll see to it.” He sampled the chicken. Mrs. Brookstone could fry up chicken better than anyone.
“Oh, the biscuits!” She hurried for the kitchen before Wes could even rise to help her.
When she returned, she held a plate of biscuits. They were golden brown, and the aroma was enough to make Wes groan. “Don’t tell Cookie, but I’ve missed your cooking, Mrs. Brookstone. More than just about anything or anyone.”
She smiled and took a seat. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“It’s true. Not even my mother made chicken this good.”
She put her napkin on her lap. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “Wes, one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you in private is Lizzy. I’d like us to be frank.”
Wes swallowed the lump in his throat and reached for a biscuit. “What would you like me to say?”
“It’s more about what I’d like to say. I’m worried about her.”
He relaxed a bit. “Worried about her? But why?”
“Wesley, she’s not herself. She’s trying so hard to be strong for me . . . for everyone.”
“I can imagine that. She’s always thought she had to be the nail that holds things together,” he said, reaching for the butter. “You can’t convince her she’s not.”
“No.” Mrs. Brookstone smiled and chose a biscuit of her own. “You’re right on that point. But . . . this is different. Lizzy has convinced herself that she needs no one. I saw it start when she lost her grandparents. Then, when you married Clarissa, she hardened herself a little more. When Mark had his heart attack, she was as worried as I was, and when the doctor told us he didn’t hold out much hope for her father to recover . . . well, she was the stalwart support I needed. Even Oliver fell to pieces. Which brings me to another issue. He’s drinking.” She shook her head, and there were tears in her eyes. “We can discuss that later. I don’t know what’s going to become of either of them. Oliver is dealing with his grief by numbing the pain and Lizzy by ignoring it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s carrying it all inside. She’s always leaned toward that tendency, but this is worse.” She eased back in her chair and fixed him with a motherly gaze. “She hasn’t been herself since her father died. She never wants to talk about what happened, and she’s never shed a single tear.”
“Never?” Wes was surprised by this. He’d seen Lizzy cry bucketfuls when her grandparents died. She’d even broken down over the death of animals. She’d always been tenderhearted.
“Not once, not even when she’s been alone at night and everyone has gone to bed.” The older woman wore all her sorrow on her face. “I’m really worried about her, and I think you may be the only one who can help her.”
“Me?” Wes shook his head. “Why would you suppose that?”
She wiped her eyes and picked up her fork. “Because she cares deeply about you and what you think. She always has. You know that.” She stared down at her plate, moving her food around.
Wes felt that same strange tightness in his chest that came when he dwelled too long on Lizzy Brookstone. “But that was when she was a child.”
Mrs. Brookstone raised her head and met his gaze. “She’s not a child anymore.”
“I’m so glad we’re on our way home.” Lizzy sat on the train with Mary and Ella. Her uncle and Jason were sitting in the seats on the opposite side of the aisle. “I’ve missed the ranch more than I can say.”
Mary giggled. “The ranch or the ranch foreman?”
Lizzy pretended to brush lint from her traveling jacket. “I’m not even going to acknowledge that question. It doesn’t deserve an answer.”
This only made Mary laugh all the more. She elbowed Ella Fleming. “Wesley DeShazer is the ranch foreman, and he’s very handsome. If Lizzy isn’t willing to own up to her feelings for him, then you might want to consider vying for his attention. He’s one of the kindest souls you’ll ever meet. Not at all rough and smelly like a lot of cattlemen.”
“Stop it,” Lizzy said, rolling her eyes. She caught sight of Jason Adler glancing her way and knew she needed to change the subject. “Ella knows some trick riding and Roman riding from when she was young. I think she’s going to be easy to train to take my place.”
Jason leaned across the aisle. “Don’t forget, you’ve given us your word that you’ll stay on for at least one more year.”
“Lizzy’s a woman of her word,” Mary said in her defense, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. “But Wes might have something to say about it . . . especially if you keep trying to woo Lizzy.”
“Who is this Wes?” Jason asked.
“He’s the ranch foreman,” Uncle Oliver replied. “Lizzy’s been sweet on him for years.”
“Honestly, you are all impossible.” Lizzy got to her feet. “Wesley is our foreman, and he married another, and she died,” she said, looking at Jason. “When I was young I looked up to him. Now I’m just looking forward to some dinner.” She stormed down the aisle toward the dining car, hoping they’d all leave her to eat in peace.
Of course, that wasn’t to be.
“Please forgive me,” Jason said, joining her in the dining car.
“Table for two?” the waiter asked.
Lizzy shook her head. “For one.”
“For two,” Jason insisted.
The man
nodded and showed them to a table for two at the far end of the car. There was a partition between their table and the rest of the car due to the serving station. The waiter pulled out a chair for Lizzy and waited. She thought for a moment about leaving, but her stomach rumbled loudly enough that she was certain everyone could hear. Finally, she took her seat, and Jason did likewise.
They placed their orders and received water and bread before Jason leaned forward. “I’m sorry, but I had to speak to you. We are friends, after all.”
Lizzy did not want to talk about Wes. Especially not to a man who so clearly wanted to court her himself.
“What is it you wish to discuss?” She placed her napkin on her lap. “If it’s related to the show, you should probably speak with my uncle, and if it’s personal—I don’t want to talk about it.” She picked up a piece of bread and began to butter it.
“It’s your uncle.”
Lizzy put aside her walls as a frown formed on her lips. “What is it?”
“He’s somehow managed to procure several cases of liquor in Missouri. I didn’t know about it, however, until last night. Apparently he arranged for them to be shipped back with the others but didn’t tell them about it. He’s having it held for him in Miles City.”
Her stomach seemed to sour, and the bread she’d so eagerly buttered was no longer appealing. She put it on her plate and met Jason’s gaze. “I don’t want to know how you learned this. Just tell me what we should do about it.”
“I have no idea. That’s why I felt we should discuss it.”
He looked as unhappy as Lizzy felt. She glanced out the window, but darkness obscured the world beyond the train. “When my uncle was much younger, he drank something fierce. My father got him to stop drinking, and we all hoped it would never again be a problem.” She looked at Jason, whose expression was sympathetic.
“I’m sure the loss of your father—his brother—was deeply felt. Perhaps he will mourn for a time and then realize the futility of what he’s doing.”
“I’d like to think that’s possible, but I don’t know.” Lizzy thought of her mother and how worried she was. “We’ve had a rule against alcohol on the ranch for years. It was my father’s way of helping Uncle Oliver. Father always said that while he wasn’t opposed to the occasional drink, we couldn’t have the stuff around because it would be too great a temptation for my uncle. He used the entire matter as a Bible study, showing me Scripture about not being a stumbling block for others.”
“Surely we needn’t avoid having a drink or whatever pleasure we enjoy because someone else might have a problem with it,” Jason replied. “Must their problem become ours?”
She nodded. “We must care for one another and do what we can to encourage each other, especially those who are weak.” Lizzy picked up her bread and took a bite. Focusing on spiritual matters always calmed her, even when she was defending her beliefs.
“But God does not expect us to forgo our own happiness because of someone else’s weakness, right? I can hardly keep someone from doing what they choose to do. If your uncle wants to drink, that is his business. He is an adult and, I presume, a partial, if not full owner of the ranch, so whether or not alcohol is allowed is surely up to him.”
“In Matthew eighteen, Jesus tells us, ‘Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!’” Lizzy straightened. “In other words, there are going to be obstacles that lead us astray, because that’s just part of the world, but it’s going to be really bad for the person who causes them. Worse still for someone who knows another person has a problem and puts temptation in their path anyway. I won’t be that person if I can help it. I won’t turn a blind eye when Uncle Oliver gives in to his sorrow and drinks. It’s easy to walk away and pretend that it’s not my business, but it is. If we are to care for one another as the Bible tells us to do—if we are to love one another as Jesus loves us—then how can we turn away from a person in need?”
Jason seemed to consider her words as the waiter returned with their meals. Lizzy’s senses filled with the tantalizing aroma of roast beef and vegetables. Her appetite was quickly returning.
“Am I to understand that you believe it necessary to avoid anything that might cause someone else to stumble?” Jason asked. “How can you possibly know what causes them to stumble? And how can you account for the entire world?”
She smiled. “I don’t believe I have to account for the entire world. I’m not acquainted with the entire world. However, if someone comes into my life and I know that they have a problem, shouldn’t I take care not to make that problem bigger? Even if I were not a Christian woman, would that not be the kind thing to do?”
“Shouldn’t a person account for themselves? Am I not responsible for my own sin?”
“Of course, you are,” Lizzy said. “But you are also responsible for loving others as Christ loved us.”
“But He went to the cross and died a brutal death.”
“Exactly so.” Lizzy smiled and picked up her knife and fork. “So doing what I can to help Uncle Oliver not be stumbled by alcohol seems a terribly small effort, but a very useful one.”
Jason was quiet for several minutes while he pondered her words, and Lizzy ate. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her father’s teaching. She had never expected to use it in such a manner, but she was always glad to share the Bible with those in need.
Still, there remained the issue of the alcohol. If Uncle Oliver had shipped it to the ranch, his drinking would only continue. Perhaps she’d talk to Wesley about it. He might have an idea of what they could do.
“I wonder if I might change the subject,” Jason ventured.
Lizzy looked up and nodded. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Next year’s show.”
She considered reminding him that such matters should be discussed with Uncle Oliver, but then took pity on him. “What about it?”
“I think it would be a great success for us to take the show to Europe. London in particular. The queen is very fond of wild west shows and has inspired much of England to share her pleasure in them.”
“You told me we needed to economize. How would this fit in with your plans to put old men out of jobs and cut back on other unnecessary expenses?” She knew her tone was sarcastic, but she was still put off by his attitude that the older men working for the show were excess baggage.
“It would be tremendously well received, and we could charge more per ticket there. We could also perform in one spot for several weeks rather than move about. The biggest expense would be transporting everyone to England, but after that, we could make up for it by pasturing your animals on my father’s estate.”
“I see. But what about the rest of us? We wouldn’t have our train cars to live in.”
He smiled. “No, you would be comfortably cared for in our home. The workers would stay in servants’ quarters, but your family and the performers would be treated lavishly. So again, the cost would be minimal.”
“To us perhaps, but what about your father?”
“He would benefit from the popularity of the show and the sales. After all, he is a stockholder.” Jason cut into his fish. “I can show you better on paper, but the money is there, I assure you, and I believe it would be a tremendous boon to the show.”
Lizzy could see that he was serious. Maybe he was right. Maybe the trip abroad would breathe new life into the show, and maybe under his managing techniques they would see the Brookstone Wild West Extravaganza once again solvent.
“I think it would be very interesting to see Europe.” She smiled at the thought of castles and beautiful lands that she’d only ever read about.
“You would have a remarkable time. I would show you around all the sights. London is full of beauty and history. I know you would enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I would.” Lizzy put down her fork. “But why tell me all of this? I have little say in the future of
the show. Uncle Oliver is now completely in charge, and though my mother has inherited my father’s part, she doesn’t want to be bothered with any of the decision-making.”
“Understandable. However, I believe your uncle is concerned about many things right now, and that, added to his drinking, might make it difficult for him to see the potential of my idea.” Jason dabbed a napkin to his lips, then smiled. “I think he would listen to you. If you told him how much you wanted to do this, I think he would quickly agree.”
Lizzy wondered if the idea of something bold and adventurous would help Uncle Oliver put aside his grief and look toward the joy of life again.
“I’ll pray about it,” she finally said, meeting Jason’s blue-eyed gaze. “You might do the same.”
“I wonder if you might answer some questions I have.”
Ella looked at Mary and felt a rush of guilt. “Questions about what?” She already knew that Mary wanted answers about her brother’s death, but Ella needed to stall for time and figure out what she would say. If only Lizzy’s uncle hadn’t gone off in search of Lizzy and Jason, she might have had an excuse to avoid the matter altogether.
“Lizzy said one of your father’s employees had an encounter with August. It resulted in your father having the man whipped.”
Ella breathed a sigh of relief. At least this was something she didn’t have to lie about. “I don’t know anything about that. Father never allowed me to know anything about his running of the farm. He said it wasn’t appropriate.”
The look of disappointment on Mary’s face only added to Ella’s feelings of guilt. “I had hoped . . . prayed that you might know something. Do you have any knowledge of the people your father had working there? I mean, you went riding a lot, from what Lizzy said. Surely you knew the groomsmen.”
“Father had one particular groom . . . an elderly man . . . who generally helped me. My fiancé was the jealous sort and he didn’t want any of the younger men near me. So no, I don’t think I know the man you’re talking about. I heard nothing of anyone being whipped . . . but then again . . . I wouldn’t have.”
When You Are Near Page 13