by Carol Cox
He had halfway expected it, although hearing it stated in such unvarnished terms had wounded him more than he’d anticipated. What he hadn’t been prepared for was Charles’s admission that he might not approve a mere ranch hand as a suitor for Lizzie.
Adam tried to console himself with Charles’s wholehearted enthusiasm for his ranch. Owning his own spread would mean he would no longer be a hired hand, but a solid businessman.
At least that was how Adam looked at it. But would Charles see it the same way?
twelve
“Rider comin’,” Bert announced.
Adam looked up from pounding a new rim into place on a wagon wheel and shaded his eyes with one hand. The sun was nearly straight overhead; its brilliant light dazzled his eyes. “Can you tell who it is?” he asked.
“No one I know, far as I can tell,” Bert replied.
The rider on the tall chestnut gelding drew up fifteen yards from them. “Mornin’,” he drawled, dismounting in one fluid motion. “Or is it afternoon?” He smiled, an engaging grin turning up the corners of his mouth and brightening his face.
Adam removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Whichever it is, it’s close enough to time to break for lunch,” he said, returning the stranger’s grin. He thrust forth a hand. “Name’s Adam McKenzie.”
The other man gripped his hand firmly. “Henry Antrim.”
“Are you looking for work, or just passing through?”
Henry mopped the back of his neck with a bandanna. “Actually, I’m looking for a friend of mine. I was told he was working here. Tom Mallory—you know him?”
Adam narrowed his eyes and examined Antrim more closely. He didn’t seem like a bad sort, but Tom Mallory was definitely a wild one, and any friend of his might bear watching.
“Mallory’s out doctoring cattle,” he said cautiously. “He’s not due in until evening.”
A voice hailed Adam and Bert from the direction of the ranch house, and they turned to see Willie waving to them from the porch.
“Jeff needs to talk to you both about something,” he told them when they met him halfway to the house. “He’d like you to have lunch with us, if you’re ready to eat.”
Bert grinned. Vera’s cooking put their usual bunkhouse fare in the shade. “That won’t take much persuadin’,” he said. He hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. “Fellow out there just rode in looking for Mallory,” he told Willie. “Maybe we should feed him at the bunkhouse and come see Jeff after lunch.”
Adam winced inwardly. Knowing how Willie idolized Tom, he feared the boy would immediately claim any friend of his hero’s for his own. He wasn’t disappointed. Willie’s face lit up as soon as he heard Tom’s name, and he went at once to ask Henry Antrim to have lunch with the family. They were too far away to hear Antrim’s response, but Adam could see him shake his head and shuffle his feet, seemingly reluctant to accept the invitation.
Adam watched Willie turn on all his persuasive powers, waving his hands for emphasis. Finally, Antrim laughed, clapped Willie on the shoulder, and accompanied him to the house. “I sure hope this is okay,” he said quietly to Adam while they washed up on the back porch. “I don’t want to push my way into a family meal.” Adam reluctantly chalked up one point in Antrim’s favor. Tom Mallory, with his overly confident ways, would never have considered turning down an opportunity to have himself included in the family circle.
Jeff, Abby, and Lizzie stood waiting in the dining room when they entered. Vera placed the last steaming serving bowls in place and chuckled when Adam and Bert inhaled the aroma gratefully.
Adam cast a quizzical glance at Charles’s empty chair. Abby hastened to explain. “Charles had planned to be here, too, but Matt Chambers is talking about selling off his place, and Charles had to go meet with him at the last minute. We were already looking forward to the idea of having you and Bert for dinner, though, so Jeff agreed to play host. The addition of Mr. Antrim is a welcome surprise.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the newcomer responded politely. He still seemed somewhat ill at ease, Adam thought, but his reserve appeared to be melting away at the sight of Vera’s cooking.
Watching Jeff help Abby into her chair, Adam realized Willie had not made a move to help Lizzie, and he moved toward her. But he had hesitated too long, and Jeff performed that task, as well. Adam berated himself. Here he’d had a perfectly good opportunity to catch her attention while Tom Mallory was nowhere nearby, and he had muffed it.
On second thought, he wondered if Lizzie had any idea who had held her chair for her. She sat silent, her eyes fastened on her plate, not seeming to know or care who else was in the room.
Jeff led the family in saying grace, then waited until the platters of food had been passed around to begin talking to Adam and Bert about his idea for fencing a portion of the range.
Following a spirited discussion of the pros and cons, Abby glanced around the table and asked, “Is anyone ready for seconds?” She laughed gently at Bert’s haste in taking advantage of the opportunity. “What brings you to the Double B, Mr. Antrim?” she asked, turning to her unexpected guest.
Henry Antrim wiped his mouth with his napkin and took a swallow of water from his tumbler before replying. “I was just passing through, ma’am, and thought I’d look up a friend who works here.”
“How nice!” Abby said brightly, looking at the other two ranch hands. “Was it Adam or Bert you came to see?”
“Actually, ma’am,” he replied, looking embarrassed once more, “it wasn’t either one of them. Tom Mallory’s the friend I’m looking for.”
Lizzie’s head snapped up, her face brightening for the first time since they had entered the room.
“You know Tom?” she asked eagerly.
“I should smile I do,” Antrim answered, giving her a thoughtful look. “Known him for years. We’ve been through a lot together.”
Lizzie’s face grew even brighter, and Adam laid his fork down on the table. Vera’s famous apple pie, which had been so tempting only moments earlier, had suddenly lost its appeal.
“Tell us about him,” Lizzie requested.
“He’s a good man,” said Henry Antrim. He forked up a generous bite of the flaky pastry and chewed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what all you want to hear, but I can tell you he’s helped me out of more than one tight spot, and he’s as loyal a friend as I’ve had.”
Lizzie lifted her chin and cast a challenging look at both Jeff and Adam. It was obvious to Adam that she was gathering ammunition to use in a future round with her father.
“That’s so nice to hear,” she answered sweetly.
Henry Antrim shifted in his chair as if sensing there was more to this conversation than appeared on the surface, but not knowing what it was. He scooted his chair away from the table.
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to Abby, “I’ve enjoyed this meal more than anything I’ve had in a long while, but I don’t want to impose on you any longer. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll mosey on now and see if I can’t run across Mallory on my way.”
Abby returned his smile. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, Mr. Antrim. I’m only sorry my husband wasn’t here to meet you. Feel free to stop in again any time you’re passing this way.” She rose to escort him to the door, and the rest of the company followed them out onto the porch.
Adam had to admit that Antrim wasn’t so bad. If I didn’t know he and Mallory were friends, I’d be tempted to partner with him myself. He is one likable fellow.
Adam stretched, trying to make himself believe he hadn’t overeaten. Vera’s cooking was way too good to pass up, and he’d done his share to keep it from going to waste. He leaned against the porch railing while the women and Willie re-turned to the house, and watched idly as Henry Antrim checked his cinch and mounted his horse.
Jeff, looking similarly stuffed, watched too. Beyond Antrim’s horse, they saw Charles emerge from the barn. He looked up curiously at Antrim, who touched his hat brim in
a casual salute and rode off.
“I wonder when Charles slipped in?” Jeff said idly. “He sure missed a good meal.”
“You aren’t getting enough home cooking these days?” Adam joked.
Charles stared curiously after the departing guest and walked slowly to join them. “Who was that?” he asked when he reached the porch. “He looked familiar, but I can’t place him.”
Jeff’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “An unexpected dinner guest,” he answered. “He also happens to be a friend of Tom Mallory’s.”
Charles halted in midstride. “He ate at my table?”
Jeff nodded in wry amusement. “He showed up at meal time, and Willie wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Charles compressed his lips and shook his head. His eyes followed the horse and rider, growing smaller in the distance. “What was his name?”
“Antrim,” Adam answered. “Henry Antrim.” Charles swung around to gaze at him in disbelief, then pivoted to stare after Antrim’s retreating figure.
Jeff looked as startled as Adam felt. “Something wrong, Charles?” he asked his brother.
Charles looked from Jeff to Adam and back again. His lips were drawn in a thin line and the skin around his eyes was taut. “I thought his face looked familiar,” he stated in a harsh voice. “Henry Antrim also goes by the name Billy Antrim. Also by William Bonney. But he’s best known as Billy the Kid.”
Jeff and Adam watched in silence as he stormed off, calling for Abby.
❧
Lizzie slipped into her riding skirt with a sense of elation. The unexpected arrival of Henry Antrim at lunch and his championship of Tom had buoyed her sagging spirits for the first time in days. The altercation with Willie had been bad enough; the rift between herself and her father was worse. Being dressed down by him in front of Uncle Jeff and Adam had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life.
Now, though, she had her own ammunition. Mr. Antrim had endorsed Tom’s character in no uncertain terms, and in front of witnesses, no less! When her father heard about that, he would have to withdraw his objections and give Tom his approval.
He wouldn’t like it, she knew, but he was a fair man and would do the right thing. She adjusted her skirt with a smug grin, thinking of how Uncle Jeff and Adam had been present for both scenes, and would have to lend support to her story.
Thank You, Lord. You really are making my way plain. She was amazed at how easy it had been to find answers since she’d started asking God for guidance. It was just like she’d heard in sermons all her life. Why had it taken her this long to put it into practice for herself?
The pounding on her door put an abrupt end to her reflections. “Lizzie?” her father bellowed. “Are you in there?”
Lingering resentment from their earlier blowup flared for a moment, and Lizzie wondered nervously what he wanted. Then she remembered her newfound strategy and strode confidently to open her door.
“Come to my office,” her father ordered brusquely. “I need to talk to you.”
Lizzie followed him along the hallway, hating the feeling that she was a little girl again, about to get a lecture. She was a woman, she reminded herself, and was prepared to conduct herself accordingly.
The sight of her mother seated in front of the heavy desk gave her a moment’s pause. Abby’s face was strained and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Lizzie wondered if this was indeed about Tom, or if something awful had happened. Not Willie! A surge of fear clutched at her heart. Infuriating as he was, she didn’t know what she’d do if something terrible happened to her brother.
She had intended to remain standing, even after her father jabbed a finger toward one of the heavy wooden chairs, but her mother’s presence and her concern for Willie weakened her resolve, and she found herself sinking obediently into the seat.
“Young lady—” Charles began, halting as Abby raised a hand in protest.
“Not that way, Charles, please,” she said. She turned to Lizzie and searched her face carefully. “You remember Mr. Antrim, of course.”
The perfect opening! Lizzie sat up straighter and tilted her chin, looking past her mother into her father’s stormy eyes. “Of course! Did you tell Papa what he said about Tom?”
“I started to,” her mother replied. “But it turned out he had something to tell me, instead. You see, dear, Mr. Antrim wasn’t quite who he appeared to be.”
Lizzie looked from one parent to the other in confusion. “What do you mean? Are you saying he isn’t a friend of Tom’s?”
“Oh, I have no doubt he’s a friend of Mallory’s,” Charles said, rejoining the conversation. “That’s just the problem.”
Lizzie glanced at her mother for illumination. Abby cleared her throat and gave her daughter a sympathetic look. “It appears we’ve just broken bread with none other than Billy the Kid.”
Lizzie sat a moment in stunned silence before she found her voice. “He—Mr. Antrim, I mean—”
“Is the same outlaw who’s been causing nothing but trouble throughout the territory.”
“I don’t believe it!” Lizzie cried hotly.
“Here.” Her mother spread a large sheet of paper on the desk. “Your father has a copy of a wanted poster. Look at the picture.”
Lizzie looked closely, hoping against hope it was only a superficial resemblance. But even she couldn’t deny that the face on the poster was that of their recent guest.
“Even so,” she protested, rallying, “it doesn’t change all the fine things he said about Tom. It’s Tom’s character we’re concerned with, not—”
“Exactly,” her father interrupted. “If he’s a close friend of a notorious outlaw, what does that say about his character?”
“Mother, will you make him listen to reason?”
Abby’s usually calm voice quavered as she spoke. “I’m afraid I agree completely, Lizzie. If this is the kind of companion Mr. Mallory chooses—”
Lizzie wheeled and dashed out of the office. Nearly knocking Willie over as they collided in the front doorway, she ignored his startled yelp and headed straight for the barn. She saddled Dancer in record time and rode off like the wind.
Tears blinded her, and she dashed them away angrily. Conflicting thoughts whirled through her mind. Henry Antrim couldn’t be Billy the Kid! She rejected the thought, remembering his polite behavior at dinner. But there was no doubt in her mind the picture on the poster was his. Maybe Willie was right in his assessment of Billy. No, she had heard too many stories to believe that, even for a moment. Maybe Tom didn’t know what his friend really was. But she had to dismiss that notion, too. They couldn’t have been friends for such a long time without Tom knowing all about him.
God, where are You? her soul cried. I thought You were on my side!
Lizzie galloped into Judith’s yard without bothering to cool Dancer down and tossed the reins to a startled Sammy. “Watch him for me, Sam. I need to talk to your mother.”
She burst into the front room without waiting for a response to her knock and found Judith rising heavily from the settee.
“Lizzie, are you all right?” Concern colored her aunt’s voice. “Has something happened at home?”
“It’s horrible, Aunt Judith! It’s so unfair!” She began to sob out her painful story. Judith sank back onto the couch, her eyes never leaving Lizzie’s face throughout her recital. When Lizzie had finished, Judith sat still, watching her carefully.
“What can I do?” Lizzie wailed. “I have to make them see they’re wrong.”
Judith’s eyes closed briefly, as if offering up a prayer for guidance. “Lizzie,” she said in a voice that was quiet yet full of strength, “I want you to listen carefully. I know how you feel about Tom Mallory. And you know how concerned Jeff and I have been about that. I’ve been praying that God would show us all the truth about him.” She paused, holding Lizzie’s gaze with her own. “I believe He has.”
Lizzie’s jaw dropped, and she fought to control her
quivering lower lip. “You mean you’re siding with them?” She saw the pain in Judith’s eyes and knew the answer.
“But I’ve been praying, too,” Lizzie countered. “And I believe God has answered my prayers. Are you telling me He will answer you, but not me?” She paced wildly across the room, unable to stand still a moment longer.
“Well, are you?” she demanded when Judith didn’t answer.
Judith’s face was pale, her gaze fixed on something in the far distance. “Lizzie—” she began.
“You’re the one who told me He had a wonderful plan for my life,” Lizzie broke in. “And you were right; He does. I believe Tom is part of that plan. And no matter what you or my parents think—”
“Lizzie.” Quiet as it was, the tone of Judith’s voice brought her up short. “I want you to gather the children together and take them home with you.”
“What? Aunt Judith, you have to understand—”
“Do it now, Lizzie,” Judith ordered. “Find Jeff, or send someone to get him. And send your mother over quickly.” She offered a faltering smile at Lizzie’s bewildered expression. “It’s the baby, honey. He’s coming. Do you understand, Lizzie? I need you to do these things. Now.”
The words finally penetrated Lizzie’s brain. She helped Judith to her bed and into her nightdress, then raced out the door to obey.
thirteen
Two hours after returning to the ranch house, Lizzie felt as if she were ready to explode. She had gathered the three children, putting Sammy and Rose together on their gentle mare and holding little Travis securely in front of her on her own horse. Leading them home as quickly as she dared, she had been relieved to find Jeff saddling his own horse. Upon hearing Lizzie’s news, he had climbed into the saddle and raced off without a word. Abby had set out in the buggy after gathering up some supplies.
Lizzie read to the excited children, played tag and hide and seek with them, and now felt both her patience and her resources were exhausted. She settled the trio at the table in the kitchen and poured them tall glasses of milk.
