But I have to tell him.
It was eating him alive to be with Wes day in and day out, knowing the truth of what he’d done. It was like a burning ember deep within that roared into a huge flame every time they were together. The time had come. All the turmoil and discomfort that had guided his life needed to come to an end.
But he’ll hate you.
It was that accusing voice again. Every time Phillip got the gumption to do the right thing, that voice spoke up to remind him of all that he feared.
“How’s it going?” Wes glanced through the stall rails. “Looks like I’m too late to help you muck out.”
“Yeah, I already took care of it.”
Wes shrugged. “I’m sure there’s something else I can lend a hand with.”
“There is.” Phillip pushed the empty wheelbarrow aside. “Can you spare me a few minutes for a talk—or maybe I should say, a listen?”
Wes seemed to sense the importance. “Of course. I always have time for you.” He plopped down on a bale of straw and said nothing more.
Phillip drew a deep breath and then let it out. “I, well, I don’t know where to start, but I guess I should just go back to when everything began.”
“All right.” Wes untied his kerchief and wiped his forehead. “That seems reasonable.” He replaced the kerchief and waited.
Phillip paced the small area, swaying with the train’s rough movements. Like a sailor at sea, he had learned the tricks to balancing his steps on the rails. “It was hard when you left the family to go to work for the Brookstone ranch. I felt like . . . well, it was like losin’ a part of myself.”
Wes smiled. “It wasn’t easy for me to go. I knew it was important that I leave, but it was never easy.”
“I convinced myself you didn’t care about us anymore.” Phillip shrugged. “So I decided I wouldn’t care either. It seemed almost appealing at the time, but I knew it was wrong. I got in with a bad bunch. There wasn’t a one of them who was worth a plugged nickel. Still, when I was with them, I didn’t miss you quite as much.” He paused to offer Wes a hesitant smile before going back to his pacing. “There was this one fella—his name was John Bryer. He was a big guy and always spouting orders and directions. He reminded me of you.”
“I don’t know if I deserve that or not,” Wes replied.
Phillip held up his hands. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that when you were around, I always felt . . . well, I don’t know. I guess I always felt like I knew what I was supposed to be doing. You kept me going to school long after I wanted to quit. Church too. I mean, Mama and Papa wanted me to go to both, but it was your opinion that really mattered to me.”
Wes frowned. “I didn’t know.”
“No, because I wasn’t going to tell you. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing to do. But I felt that way, and when John Bryer took me under his wing, I felt that same sense of purpose again. It was like I didn’t have to worry about making up my own mind.”
“Or doing your own thinking.”
Phillip nodded. “I’m sorry to say that’s true.” He stopped and looked down at Wes. “I’m ashamed to say I did things that were wrong—things that hurt other people. I never knew for sure just how much our folks knew or how much they told you.”
“Enough. They were pretty worried about you.”
The thought saddened him more than he could say. Phillip pressed on, knowing that if he didn’t continue his confession, he would never bring up the subject again.
“John Bryer said a man was judged by how he managed his liquor, his women, and the men who tried to best him. He said it was important to prove myself—to make it clear to every man around me that I wouldn’t be controlled by anyone.”
“Except John Bryer?”
Phillip hadn’t seen it that way then, but of course now he did. “Yeah. John figured he was in charge of all of us who kept company with him. I never saw anyone defy him—except one time.”
He’d come to the place where he had to confess what had happened to their father. He had to admit his role—his fault in their father’s death. If not now, he might never have the courage to do it.
“I ran away. I wanted to run with John and the boys full-time. I could get all the liquor I wanted when I was with John because folks were too afraid to say no. Drinking helped me forget the wrong I was doing and the good life and reputation I’d lost. Pa found me in town and convinced me to come home. I did, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I wasn’t comfortable there. If they’d known what I’d done . . . well, I couldn’t live with the thought of it. My guilt ate me alive.” He paused, shaking his head. “I never stopped to realize they already knew quite a bit. I was just so ashamed, and I left. Ran off in the night. I figured I’d never see either one of them again, but Pa . . . Pa . . .” Phillip fell silent.
“He came after you.” It was more a statement than a question.
Phillip nodded. “Yeah. He did. He told me he wasn’t going to give up on me. He told me it didn’t matter what I’d done—that I was forgiven and that he wanted me to come home. I . . . I actually broke down and cried like a baby. I couldn’t believe that I could be forgiven of robbing and beating up on folks. I had tried to tell myself that because I wasn’t all that involved with the actual deeds that I wasn’t as guilty as the others, ’cause I mostly just kept watch. But I knew the truth.”
For a moment Phillip said nothing. It was painful to remember, but even worse to speak the words aloud. And now, as he remembered their father’s death . . . it was almost too much to bear. Maybe this had been a mistake.
“Go on,” Wes encouraged.
Phillip took a breath. “John Bryer got word about Pa and came to where we were. He wasn’t going to let Pa force me to go home. He threatened Pa, and when that didn’t work, he threw a punch. Pa dodged it, but that only made John mad. He started hitting Pa, and I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t much against that brute. He knocked Pa to the ground. I thought maybe he’d killed him, because Pa didn’t get up. Something inside me made me attack John for what he’d done. That was a mistake, because then he started in on me. Pa came to and must have felt the need to rescue me.” Phillip’s voice cracked, and tears came to his eyes.
“Pa pushed John out of the way, then bent over to help me up.” Phillip could no longer hold back the tears. “John wasn’t about to be bested by an old man. He came at Pa. I saw him raise his hand to hit him, but I didn’t see in time that he had hold of his gun. He hit Pa in the head with the butt of his revolver.” He bowed his head and sobbed. “I saw Pa’s eyes go all blank. He fell to the ground. There was blood everywhere, and it was all my fault. It’s my fault that he died. I killed him same as if I’d done the hitting.”
He was too afraid to look up and see Wesley’s reaction. His brother would no doubt hate him. Didn’t Phillip hate himself? Wasn’t that the reason he’d never admitted his guilt? He cried all the harder. All the tears he’d tried to bury deep inside and drink away came pouring out.
Warm arms closed around him as Wes hugged him close. Phillip sobbed uncontrollably. How could Wes even bear to be near him, much less hold him? He didn’t deserve this kindness. He certainly didn’t deserve this comfort.
Phillip shook his head. “I killed him. I killed him.” He couldn’t stop the confession that had been stuffed deep inside.
“No, you didn’t,” Wes whispered against his ear. “John Bryer killed our father.”
“But . . . I’m . . . to blame. I didn’t want . . . to tell you. Didn’t . . . want you to hate me . . . when you learned the truth.” It was as if he were still that young boy. As if he’d remained that boy for the past twelve years—unable to grow up because of all that had happened.
Wes pulled back and Phillip looked up, certain he would see contempt. Instead he saw tears in his brother’s eyes and compassion in his expression.
“I’ve always known, Phillip. I’ve always known what happened that day.”
“How? How could you? I on
ly confessed it to Ma, and she promised she’d never tell a soul.”
“She didn’t have to,” Wes said, holding Phillip’s shoulders. “I talked to the sheriff myself. I just didn’t know that you blamed yourself. Not like this.”
“He died because of me, Wes. Because he loved me. He told me that with his dying breath—that he’d always love me.”
Wes smiled. “What a blessing. He told me that when I left for the Brookstone ranch. I’ve always carried that as a comfort. You should too.”
“But he wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t come after me.”
“He came after you because he loved you. He couldn’t stop himself. His life didn’t mean much if he couldn’t live it for his family. That was the way Pa was. His love for us was what made him the man he was.”
“I just wanted to be like you—like him—but I’m not. I’m not worth anything. I made a mess of my life, Wes. I know that. I’d give anything to undo the wrong, to start over.”
“So let God help you. He can create a new man out of you, if you accept Him into your life. He’ll forgive the sin and wash you clean.”
Phillip found the words calming. “But what about . . . do you . . . can you forgive me?”
Wes’s smile broadened. “You will always have my forgiveness, Phillip. You’re my brother, and nothing you ever do will keep me from loving and forgiving you.”
Phillip wanted to cry anew, but there was one more thing he had to ask. He had to know the truth. Had to hear it from his big brother. “Can God . . . really forgive me?”
“Well, I can’t speak for Him, but the Bible does, and it says all we have to do is ask. First John, chapter one, verse nine says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’” Wes shrugged and smiled. “So I guess in a sense, we can speak for God. At least we can share His words and promises.”
In the midst of such great relief, Phillip also felt more broken than he’d ever been before. He felt helpless and without the strength even to stand, and he sank to his knees. Wes did likewise.
“I need help,” Phillip whispered to Wes. “I can’t go on like this.”
Wes nodded. “I know.”
“I mean all of it, Wes. The drinking and the lying.”
Again, his brother nodded. “I’m here to help you. I’ve always been here, and I’ll always be here.”
“What should I do? What can I do?” Phillip held out his empty hands as if hoping Wes might lay the answer in them.
Wes took his brother’s hands and gripped them tight. “We’re gonna pray first, and then I’m taking you home.”
Lizzy went to Henry Adler’s office with the full intention of telling him her concerns about Amanda. Instead, Henry motioned her inside like a long-lost daughter and told her to take a seat.
“I was just coming to find you. I’ve had a letter from my wife.” He held it up as if in proof. “Jason has been found and has agreed to go to a sanatorium.”
Lizzy couldn’t conceal her surprise. “Where was he?”
“Hiding with some of his American relatives, family of my wife’s. Apparently he sought their help when he made his plan to take you away.” Henry smoothed out the letter on his desk.
“I see.” Lizzy frowned, remembering that night the previous year when Jason had tried to kidnap her and force her to marry him. Henry had been mortified that his son had tried something so desperate, but had confessed at a later date that Jason had always suffered from a weak mind.
“He has agreed that a rest would do him good. We found a skilled doctor who believes he can help Jason.”
“I’m glad,” Lizzy replied, uncertain what else she could say. She had already agreed not to press legal charges against Jason, much to Wesley’s dismay.
“I believe in time, with the proper treatment, Jason might be returned to us whole.”
“I pray it’s so.” And she did. She didn’t want ill will between the families. Not when Uncle Oliver was so dependent upon Henry Adler for help.
“I hope you know how much it means to us that you didn’t want to see him arrested.”
“It would hardly have helped.”
Henry nodded and tapped the letter. “At least you no longer have to worry about whether or not Jason will suddenly appear and repeat his offenses. I know it’s a relief to me and your uncle.”
“I doubt Uncle Oliver will even notice. He’s rather preoccupied with Amanda Moore.” Lizzy got to her feet. “I think you should know that Mara will be making the wedding costume for Mary instead of Amanda. We found out that Amanda hadn’t even started it, and since you want to have the wedding in Chicago in a matter of weeks, it was important that someone should get the job done.”
But Henry was looking at the letter, and Lizzy wasn’t sure he’d even heard her. It was easy to understand how difficult all of this must have been for the Adlers. Lizzy had never wanted them to suffer for the actions of their son. Their social standing in England and America was at risk because of Jason’s foolishness. There’s no doubt that news of Jason’s appearance was a huge relief.
“Well, if you don’t need me for anything else, I’d better get back to work,” she said.
“Of course. Of course. Thank you for your understanding and forgiveness.”
Lizzy smiled and moved to the door. “Of course. God charges all of His children to be in the business of forgiving.”
She closed the door behind her and burst into tears. She hadn’t expected the rush of emotions. Lately she seemed so out of sorts. She knew it was because of Wesley’s distress and her uncle’s foolishness, but tears weren’t going to help one bit.
Wiping her eyes on the edge of her sleeve, Lizzy did her best to force her thoughts back into their proper places. A part of her longed for home, where she could go for a long ride to sort things out. Mostly, she missed her mother’s counsel. If Mama were here, she’d be able to talk sense into Uncle Oliver. Lizzy felt ill-equipped to reason with him. After all, she’d only ever loved Wes, and it hardly gave her much experience to draw from when trying to warn her uncle of Amanda’s deceptions. Then again, what if Amanda truly loved Oliver and just hated Lizzy?
She sniffed back her tears and fought to regain control of herself. She couldn’t allow Amanda’s ugly spirit to distract her from what needed to be done. Lizzy knew that Wes was right. She couldn’t convince Oliver not to love someone. Especially when all she had to base it on were assumptions and feelings of ill will.
The train hit a junction, and the car gave a violent jerk to the right. Lizzy caught hold of the doorjamb and barely kept herself from falling headlong to the floor. With a new determination to put it all in God’s hands, she straightened and squared her shoulders. She had given that advice to Wes and now needed to take it herself. She couldn’t help but smile, however.
“It’s a lot easier to suggest someone else leave it with God than to follow that advice yourself,” she said, shaking her head. “A whole lot easier.”
nine
Wes sat down across from Henry and Oliver. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.” They had arrived in Dallas, Texas, and even now, most of the crew and performers were busy figuring out the arrangements for the show. Lizzy was in charge of overseeing the performers, but Wes had asked Carson Hopkins to take his place helping the wranglers today.
“You said it was urgent,” Oliver replied.
“It is.” Wes leaned back in his wooden chair. “I’m afraid I have to leave the show. Phillip too.”
“What?” Henry Adler looked at Oliver and then shook his head. “You can’t. You’re our head wrangler, and Phillip is your assistant. You signed a contract.”
“I know what my job is, as well as his.” Wesley’s tone was harsher than he’d intended. “Sorry. The thing is, this isn’t easy for me. I’m not a man to shirk my commitments, but this is life and death. Oliver, I know you’ll understand.”
Oliver looked puzzled, prompting Wes to continue.
>
“Phillip has come to a place where he can’t go on with his drinking. He’s ready to quit, but he can’t do it here. I want to take him back to the ranch in Montana.”
“But can’t it wait until we leave for Europe?” Adler asked. “I’ll have some of my own men in New York accompany us to England. From there, I can utilize my own staff. I can hardly just hire someone here and now.”
“You’re sitting in Dallas,” Wes countered. “Some of the best horsemen in the world are right here. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble hiring wranglers. Besides, Carson is more than capable of taking charge. He took the job when August Reichert was killed and did just fine.”
“But the show is much bigger now,” Adler argued. “Look, if it’s a matter of money, I can help. What if we send Phillip to the ranch and you remain? I could even hire someone to escort him, if you’re worried he won’t go on his own.”
“No. I made a promise to him, and I intend to keep it. He needs me to see him through this.”
“What about Lizzy?” Oliver asked. “Will you force her to leave as well? We need her here.”
Wes frowned. He had hoped they could all leave as a family, but he’d already considered it might be too great of a blow if he announced she was leaving as well. “I don’t intend to force her to leave or to do anything else, for that matter. It’ll be up to her. She planned to come home before the troupe went to Europe anyway, so I figure I can bear her absence until then. So long as you can guarantee her safety.”
“I see,” Adler replied, seeming to calm a bit. “Well, I’m sure she probably told you that my son has been found and has agreed to go to a sanatorium in England.”
Wes shook his head. “No. She didn’t tell me.” His frown deepened. Why hadn’t she told him? She knew how much he worried about Jason Adler sneaking back into the show to steal her away.
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