“I was just about to suggest the same.”
Mary didn’t wait for him but started for the farmhouse. Chris easily caught up as she tucked her gun case under her arm. They walked in silence for several minutes, but then Mary couldn’t help but pose the question on her mind.
“If you are so skeptical about God and what He can and can’t do, why did you agree to take on the story?”
Chris stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess everybody would like to believe in an all-powerful God who can do miracles. I was intrigued, and my curiosity got the better of me. But I wasn’t surprised to find things as I did. I would have been surprised to find them otherwise.”
Mary felt no condemnation for his doubt or lack of faith. She struggled herself, especially since August’s death. Lizzy said such things should bring a person closer to God, but Mary felt the chasm had only widened. How could she trust God when He’d allowed her brother to die so violently? He could have saved her brother—prevented his death. If God truly loved August, then why hadn’t He kept him from harm?
Ella trembled as she sat atop her horse, waiting for her turn to perform. The county fairgrounds near Cincinnati were just a few miles from the river that divided Ohio from Kentucky. Beyond that, not even seventy miles, her father and Jefferson Spiby were probably conspiring against her. The closer the show had come to Kentucky, the more that thought had been on her mind. They might even be in the audience right now . . . this very minute.
She knew better than to believe Jefferson would just forget about her. Especially since she’d accused him of murder, but even more because she’d denied him something he wanted: marriage. Jefferson was notorious for getting what he wanted—especially where women were concerned. She remembered hushed conversations where matronly women had tried to convince her mother of Jefferson’s unworthiness, even going so far as to tell her of his mistresses. When Mother had tried to talk to Father about it, he had told her that men had needs and she should stay out of such scandalous conversations.
The buckskin shook his head as the roar of the crowd came down from the grandstand. She was using Lizzy’s horse Thoreau, and he was anxious to be performing.
“Easy there, boy.” Ella patted his neck. “We’ll be out there soon enough.”
Moments later, Oliver Brookstone announced Ella, and she urged the horse into a gallop and went into a series of spins and layovers for her first pass. Next, she got a little riskier with a roll back that put her upside down. From there she flipped over until her feet hovered over the ground, then pulled back up and onto the horse. She repeated the move on the other side of the horse as well, then maneuvered into a half-fender drag that left her hanging precariously. The audience cheered loudly and continued to clap as she lined up for another pass.
For another few minutes, she continued to thrill the attendees with twists and turns, spins and vaults. They loved the performance, and she loved performing. Ella felt as if she’d always been meant for this life. She straightened in the saddle and returned to her starting position with Thoreau. After giving her mount a pat of approval, Ella waved to the crowd as the applause died down.
“Ella Fleming, I love you!”
Ella felt her blood go cold. The voice sounded so similar to Jefferson’s that she was certain he must be close by. She lost her concentration, and her entire body trembled.
Oh, Lord, help me.
It was time to go into another run, but the next trick required delicate maneuvering, and Ella wasn’t at all sure she was up to it. Could Jefferson really have come there to harass her? Ella found herself panting for breath. She fought the urge to run and instead decided to change up her tricks and do one that left her feeling more secure and less at risk.
“Come on, Thoreau,” she barely whispered and signaled the horse into action.
Turning to the left, she brought the stirrup up between her legs and hooked it over the horn and across her thigh. Next, she crossed her legs, grabbed a handful of mane, and slid into a sort of sitting position on the side of the horse. Her leg was completely secured in the leather strap, so she let go and laid her body back and upside down off the left side of the horse. Then, to make the trick look even more impressive, she stretched out her arms and put her right leg in the air.
Holding the pose for the rest of the run, Ella tried desperately to reclaim her confidence. Thankfully, she only had one more run, and then Lizzy would take over.
Even if it is Jefferson out there in the grandstand, he can’t hurt you. The Brookstone team would never allow him to cause you harm.
She came back up into a sitting position and readied for her final run. She knew Lizzy and the others would notice the change in her tricks, but they would also know that she would have a reason. As Lizzy had once said, “Sometimes you have to go with your instinct, Ella. If it doesn’t feel right—don’t do it.”
The worst of the moment was behind her now, and Ella felt she could manage her planned ending. She brought Thoreau back around and maneuvered the straps and belts for her final trick—a back drag and then forward roll into a shoulder stand.
Then, in a flash, everything was complete, and Ella was exiting while Oliver urged the crowd in their applause and praised Ella for all she’d accomplished in such a short time. When she got to where Phillip was waiting to take charge of Thoreau, Ella burst into tears.
She tried to get hold of herself as she slid off the gelding’s back, but her emotions were more than she could control.
“Ella? Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” Phillip asked as she slumped against Thoreau’s side.
She didn’t expect Phillip to put his arm around her and jumped at his touch.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t bear to see you cry.”
Ella wiped at her face. “It’s nothing. I just got spooked.”
“You can always talk to me about it.” His voice was soft and sweet.
Looking up into his chocolate-brown eyes, Ella could see that his concern was genuine. “It’s just . . . we’re so close to the border of Kentucky and not that far from my father’s farm. I suppose I’m anxious that he’ll try something.”
Phillip frowned. “He can try, but we won’t let anything happen to you, darling.’”
His term of endearment left Ella shaken. She had come to care for Phillip, maybe more than she cared for any of the others. Her tears came anew, but she didn’t try to hide them. “Thank you, Phillip. You’ve been such a good friend, and I feel so much better just knowing that you’re looking out for me.”
He touched her cheek. With his thumb, he wiped away the tears. “You’re safe with me. I’ll always look after you.”
“Is everything all right?” Wes DeShazer asked as he joined them.
Phillip stepped away, still holding the reins of Ella’s mount. “She just got a little shook up. Afraid maybe her pa might be looking for her, since we’re just a short way from her home.”
Ella looked at Wes, and he offered her a smile. “You’re safe, Ella, but just to be sure, I’ll have Phillip stay with you until you go out with the others to take a bow. Then stick with Lizzy, and I’ll be nearby.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll do that.” The fear faded. God was answering her prayers through the compassionate gestures of others. She drew a deep breath. “I’m ready to remount.”
“Let me help,” Phillip said.
“You don’t have to do that. I may be small, but I can manage quite well.”
He laughed. “Don’t I know it. But I just want to help.”
Phillip cupped his hand, and Ella stepped into his hold while reaching for the horn. Phillip easily hoisted her upward as she pulled herself onto the saddle. She smiled down at the dark-eyed young man. “Thank you. I feel so much better.”
A lazy grin spread across his face. “Being near you always makes me feel better.”
five
Life on the rails going from town to town with the Brookstone show was one
of the most pleasurable things Chris had ever done in his life. He and his grandmother had traveled extensively through Europe—most of that by train. But this was different. While travel with his grandmother had been luxurious and educational, travel with Mr. Brookstone’s troupe was fun. He couldn’t remember when he’d laughed more or had true camaraderie with people who accepted him for just being himself—without expecting something of him or condemning him for the acts of others.
Of course, Oliver Brookstone was exhilarated by the additional publicity they would receive once the magazine articles were published. Chris had explained to him that it would be months before they appeared in the magazine, however. The editor was planning to release them at the beginning of the next year and run them for twelve months in the 1902 editions. It would benefit next year’s show rather than this year’s.
Sitting in the men’s train car and enjoying the conversation of those men who were still awake, Chris felt a sense of family that he’d never known. Especially not with other men.
“I figure it this way,” Phillip DeShazer declared. “If you still want to pick up that herd of wild horses when we get back to Montana, I can have them broken for you in less than six weeks, and you can still make a profit in this calendar year.”
Oliver Brookstone gave a yawn and nodded. “I think we’ll plan on that, then. I know Rebecca said the calves were coming along great and will be ready to sell in the fall, but I figure it won’t hurt to have a little extra. We do have repairs to make and other things to purchase. Lizzy was reminding me just last week how much her mother has always wanted a porch.”
Wes nodded and put down the book he’d been reading. “She reminded me too. She’s pretty set on getting it built.” He smiled, as he always seemed to do when talking about the woman he loved. “I think she’ll enjoy it as much as her mother.”
“Then we’ll make that our priority,” Oliver declared.
Jason Adler shrugged. “Maybe she just wants to set things in order at the ranch so she can feel free to make other choices.”
Chris knew there was a rivalry between Adler and Wesley for Lizzy’s affections. He thought Adler rather silly in his pursuit, as it was clear Lizzy and Wes were completely gone over each other.
Wes narrowed his eyes as he considered Adler. “I think since she plans this to be her last year with the show, Lizzy would like to see the ranch put to order so she can start a family there.”
Adler shrugged again. “Perhaps, but there’s a chance she’d be just as happy to go elsewhere while knowing that her mother is happily provided for.”
“Lizzy will be happy wherever Wes is,” Phillip said, getting to his feet. “Porch or no porch. I’m gonna call it a night. We’ve got a lot to do first thing in the morning.”
“I think you’re right,” Oliver said. “I’m going to check a couple of things and then retire as well. We’ll pull into Washington, D.C., around three in the morning, and Jason tells me a committee there has already planned us an incredible breakfast, complete with speeches and then a bevy of other things. Then, the next day, we’ll help the town celebrate Independence Day with our performance. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”
“Good night, Oliver,” Wes said.
Chris watched Phillip head down the narrow hall. He climbed up into the top berth in one of the compartments and pulled the curtain while Oliver went to the end of the car and entered his private room. Wes had told Chris that at one time they’d had more private cars, including a family car, but Adler had limited the number to save money. Instead of the eight cars the show had used for numerous years, they now got by with five, and those had been renovated to be as efficient as possible. The staff had been lessened too, along with the number of performers. Adler said it was the only way for the show to operate more efficiently. As far as Chris knew, each of the performances had been sold out, so he couldn’t imagine the show was still struggling to make ends meet.
Suppressing a yawn, Chris took out his notebook and pencil and jotted a few notes. He wanted to make sure he recorded all the details so that when he sat down to actually compose the next installment for his editor, he’d have everything at his fingertips.
He glanced around the room. This car was mostly bunks for the men, with a small area for sitting and Oliver Brookstone’s private bedroom at the very end. Hooked onto this car was the Brookstone commons car, and behind that, the women’s car. The commons car had a bathroom for the men to use, while the women had their own facilities in their car in the place of a private bedroom like Oliver’s.
Chris remembered Mary mentioning the wonderful gatherings they had in the commons car each evening after the show. She said there was always a feast, and they would discuss all that had gone right and wrong with the performance.
“Wes, Mary mentioned that the show used to travel with a cook and have all their meals here on the train. Is that right?”
Before Wes could answer, Adler spoke up. “They did indeed. Mrs. Brookstone, Lizzy’s mother, acted as cook and created some amazing meals.”
“I believe he was speaking to me,” Wes countered, his tone clearly irritated.
Adler cocked his head. “Yes, but you weren’t with the troupe last year. I thought perhaps Mr. Williams would appreciate a firsthand account.”
“But it’s my understanding that Wesley was with the troupe when it was first formed,” Chris said, not caring much for the way Adler constantly tried to diminish Wes’s presence.
“Perhaps he was,” Adler replied, “but a lot has changed since then. Mrs. Brookstone’s decision to quit the show made it necessary to rethink how we feed the workers. I made arrangements with the local venues and included one main meal in most of the contracts. For other meals, we have arrangements with various vendors, depending on the city. For free tickets to our events, we were often able to get free meals. It’s worked out nicely.”
“I think everybody misses getting together after the performances to eat and discuss the show back here on the train,” Wes said, looking hard at Adler. “In fact, I know some of them were just telling you that the other day.”
“There’s always a sacrifice to be made,” Adler said, shrugging.
“Do you think the wild west shows will continue to be popular in the years to come?” Chris asked no one in particular.
Quiet until now, Wes’s right-hand man, Carson Hopkins, spoke up. “I doubt it. What with automobiles and aeroplanes becoming popular, horses and shooting probably won’t hold the attention of the public for much longer. Alice and I were just talking about what we’d do when Brookstone decides to call it quits.”
“Even if the popularity fades here in America,” Adler assured them, “in England and Europe we will still find an audience.”
“Maybe so,” Wes said, frowning, “but nobody wants to live in England and Europe. At least not in this troupe.”
“That’s true,” Carson replied. He got up and stretched. “I’m turning in. I promised Alice I wouldn’t be late.” He crossed to the door that led to the commons car. He and his wife, Alice, were the only other people to have a private room. At least somewhat private. Jason and Oliver had put a bed in the costuming room for them, but little more. At least they were able to live as husband and wife.
“I’ll bid you gentlemen good-night, as well . . . but don’t be surprised if you’re wrong about the interest others might have in living in England and Europe. I’ve been speaking to some of the performers, and they seem excited by the prospects,” Adler said. He didn’t wait for their response but went to the opposite end of the car where his lower bunk awaited.
Since the others had long since retired, this just left Chris and Wes. Wes opened a window while Chris closed his notebook and smiled. “You really shouldn’t let him goad you. He’s looking for a way to get rid of you.” The rush of cool air was slightly smoky but welcome.
“Don’t I know it.” Wes shook his head and slumped back in his chair. “I’ve never met anyone like him. Most men
I know respect the situation when a man and woman are interested in each other, but not Adler.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice.
“I’ve known men like him. I suppose he thinks his money entitles him.” Chris’s voice was hushed. “They don’t respect man . . . or God.”
Wes looked at him thoughtfully. “What about you? What are your thoughts on God?”
Chris considered the question. “I suppose I’m still trying to figure Him out. I didn’t grow up with much in the way of religious training. I attended church services with my grandmother, but it was all stuffiness and ceremony. Nothing like that quaint little church we visited last Sunday.”
Wes smiled. “Oliver likes to keep everyone attending services when it’s convenient to do so. Sometimes he’s even led us in a bit of a Bible study. Although . . .” Wes paused, and his face seemed to sadden. “He hasn’t done a lot of that since losing his brother.”
“That was just last year, right?” Chris waited until Wesley nodded. “I suppose it really changed things for everyone.”
“It did in some ways, but you need to understand that the Brookstone family built their lives on a foundation of faith in Jesus Christ.”
“And how exactly did they do that?” Chris found himself intrigued.
“I can’t say exactly how it all started. I do know their father and stepmother believed in God. Mark and Oliver were just little when their mother passed away, but their father kept up their religious training. Mark told me they were in church every time the doors were open.” Wes chuckled. “Church was where their father met their stepmother, and the boys adored her. By the time they moved west, they had added five daughters to the family—although not all of them moved to Montana. Mark and Oliver did, even though they were full grown. In fact, Mark was already married to Rebecca and they had Lizzy. I started to work for Mr. Brookstone—their father—the year after they set up ranching in Montana. He insisted we all attend church on Sunday. He’d rotate the staff, and a couple of men would stay at the ranch and manage things while the rest of us drove the distance to Miles City and church.”
Wherever You Go Page 5