When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  “What is it, George?” Mother asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

  Mother put a hand to her mouth.

  “What kind of accident?” Ella asked, coming to her mother’s side.

  “The Brookstones’ wrangler has been killed.”

  Everyone gasped, and the color drained from Mother’s face.

  “What happened?” Robert asked as Ella led her mother to a chair.

  “Horse trampled him,” Jefferson answered before Ella’s father could speak.

  “That’s awful,” Virginia murmured. “Poor man.”

  “One of the risks of the job. We’ve sent word to the train. Our men will take the horses in and . . . the body.”

  Ella felt her stomach knot. This was terrible. Not only because of the loss of the poor man, but her plans were now in jeopardy. What could she do? She could hardly go along with the Fleming Farm workers. They’d know who she was, even in boy’s clothes.

  “We’ll have them move out as soon as the sheriff arrives,” Father said. “He’ll have to ask his questions before the body can be moved.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I don’t feel very well,” Mother said. “I must go lie down.”

  Father nodded. “I think it would wise for all of you ladies to take supper in your rooms tonight. This is a terrible affair, and we will need to explain the situation to the sheriff.”

  Ella nodded. “I’ll see that Mother gets to her room.” She tried to think past the moment. How could she use this terrible situation to her advantage?

  Once upstairs, Ella summoned her mother’s maid. “Serena, Mother has had a shock. Please see she gets to bed. I’ll have some food sent up.” The maid took Ella’s mother in hand and led her away to the bedroom.

  Ella quickly returned to her own room, and it wasn’t long before Mara appeared. She had already heard the news and wondered if Ella’s plans had changed.

  “No, I still want to go. Only now I figure I’ll have to leave when the sheriff arrives. Everyone will be too busy to notice. Please have Elijah take my horse now. They won’t go into the family stables—at least I presume they won’t. I figure the accident must have happened on the west end, where they’d gathered the Brookstones’ horses. After you instruct Elijah, please hurry back here to help me with my clothes.”

  “Yes’m.” Mara raced from the room while Ella began to do what she could to undress.

  She heard the arrival of the sheriff, since her bedroom faced the front of the house. He’d come with several other men, including the doctor. She couldn’t see well enough to tell who the other men were. Everyone raced toward the far west stables, just as Ella had figured.

  She went to her jewelry box and opened the lid. She had several pieces that had been given to her by her parents. None of them were family heirlooms, so Ella stuffed them into a little drawstring bag. She would sell them in St. Louis to get money for her new start. She started to turn away but noticed the bracelet Jefferson had given her. She wanted nothing to remind her of him, but it was sterling and jade. Perhaps it would bring her a few extra dollars. She took it as well.

  Mara returned and helped Ella change. They had never managed so quickly. Mara was perspiring profusely. No doubt she was just as scared as Ella. Until this moment, it hadn’t dawned on Ella that Mara might be punished.

  “Look, no matter what,” Ella said, stopping to take Mara’s hand, “I don’t want you to get in trouble. When they ask you where I am, tell them I went to bed, sickened by all that’s happened, and said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  Ella went to her vanity and picked up her room key. “Lock the door, then hide the key. Throw it away, even. Whatever you do, don’t take it back to your room, because they’re sure to look there when they start to suspect you might know where I went. In the morning, make a fuss. Come down crying or upset and tell Mother that I won’t open my door. That way it will be clear that you still think I’m in my room.”

  Mara nodded. “Yes’m. I’ll do just that.”

  Ella gave her a hug. “I love you, Mara. You’re like a sister to me.” This would be the first time they’d ever been separated.

  “I be prayin’ for you, Miss Ella. Prayin’ real hard,” Mara said as Ella pulled away.

  “I know you will. I’ll be praying for you as well. If all goes well, Father won’t find me until after I turn twenty-one. That’s just until January, and then maybe I can send for you.” She doubted her father would ever allow Mara to join Ella, but it comforted her to say as much.

  Glancing once more out the window, Ella could see lanterns and all sorts of activity at the far end of the stables. “I must go. It’s now or never.” She pulled an old hat down over her blond hair. “Do I look passable?”

  “In the dark, nobody’ll know.” Mara went to the door and opened it. She looked out, then nodded.

  Ella slipped quietly down the back stairs. She stopped often to listen and make sure no one was nearby. She had to reach the trees, and it wouldn’t be easy to cross the long, open lawns without someone seeing her. Hopefully anyone who did see her would presume she was just one of the boys searching for something.

  She’d nearly reached the kitchen when she stopped cold at the sound of Jefferson and her father. They were speaking in hushed, quick statements.

  “There was no other way.”

  “But now we’ve got this to deal with,” her father said.

  “He’d seen and heard too much.”

  “I know.” It sounded like they were moving toward the back door. “I just don’t like that you had to kill him.”

  Ella thought her heart might stop. She pressed hard against the wall of the stairs.

  Jefferson actually laughed. “It wasn’t my first killing, nor will it be my last. Now, you do your part and manage the explaining.” His tone turned sarcastic. “I shouldn’t have to do everything.”

  She heard them leave the room, and only after the screen door slammed shut did she feel she could continue. But Jefferson so casually admitting murder kept her frozen in place. He was the reason August Reichert was dead. The wrangler had seen too much.

  But what in the world had he seen that merited death?

  seven

  Wes looked around for his brother. It was nearly eight o’clock, and most of the men were headed to bed, if not already asleep. They were getting up at three in the morning to take calves to market, and every man there knew it would be a long day.

  Wes left the bunkhouse and went to the barn. If Phillip’s horse was gone, then he’d know the day of hard work hadn’t agreed with his brother and he’d left. Probably for good. If that were the case, Wes figured it would be for the best. He was still uncertain about hiring his brother, but he’d promised their mother he would watch out for Phillip if he ever came around again.

  The barn door was open, which gave him hope that Phillip might be there. Maybe he was just grooming his horse or taking care of his gear.

  “Phillip?” Wes asked as he entered the barn. “Are you in here?”

  “’Course . . . I am.” Phillip staggered toward him. “Whaddaya . . . want?”

  Wes frowned. “You’re drunk.”

  Phillip stopped, pulled his chin back, and struggled to keep from swaying. “Wha’ . . . if I am?”

  “Brookstone cowboys aren’t allowed to drink on the job. You aren’t allowed to have liquor in the bunkhouse. Where’d you get it?”

  Phillip laughed and shook his head. “I’ve always got a bottle. Not havin’ a drink is . . . well . . .” He swayed again and caught hold of a stall gate just before falling. “Fella’s gotta have a drink at the . . . the end of the day.”

  “Not here, they don’t. And you’ve clearly had more than a drink.” Wes shook his head. “Get rid of it. Any liquor you brought with you I want gone. Get rid of it immediately.”

  “Now wait jes a . . . jes a minute.” Phillip’s words were slurred, but he offered a grin as usual. “I finished it, but . . . wh
y can’t I have it?”

  Wes closed the distance between them in two long strides. He took hold of Phillip’s shoulders and gave him a fierce shake. “You can’t have it because I need my men sober. If that’s not possible for you, then you need to pack your gear and leave. We don’t allow liquor on the Brookstone ranch.”

  Phillip’s eyes widened. If possible, Wesley’s words had sobered him. “You’d throw me out?” He blinked several times, as if the shaking had loosened something in his head.

  “I’d throw you out, same as I’d throw any of the rest of them out. We have firm rules around here. I told them to you when I hired you on. If I can’t depend on you to abide by them, you have to go. Even if you are my brother.”

  “Don’t the res’ . . . res’. . . .” He smiled. “Don’t the res’ of the men drink?”

  “If they do, they do it in town on their time and not mine.” Wes pulled Phillip with him toward the door. “I’m going to put you to bed, and we’ll discuss this in the morning. It’s senseless to argue with a man who won’t remember anything come daylight.”

  He’d no sooner gotten Phillip in bed and his boots off than the younger man was asleep. He hardly looked like more than a boy. With all the hard living and fights he’d no doubt been in over the years, Wes had figured it would change his appearance, but it hadn’t. There was still something almost angelic in Phillip’s expression. Their mother used to comment on it at times just like this. She’d sit beside her sleeping son and smile.

  “For all his orneriness, there’s really a good boy deep inside,” Wes could almost hear her say.

  Wes sat on the edge of the bed and pushed back the sandy brown hair that had fallen over one of Phillip’s eyes. Where had he been all these years? Why had he forsaken his family? Wes knew there were issues in the past—things Phillip wouldn’t even talk about. Their mother had tried and tried to get him to open up, but Phillip had always laughed it off or simply avoided the discussion. Maybe that was why he’d left. It definitely hadn’t been for a lack of love, because no one had ever been as cherished and loved by their mother as Phillip had been. Wes couldn’t even fault her for her favoritism, because he felt the same way. There was just something so loveable about Phillip that it was impossible to stay mad at him for long.

  “Don’t be angry with him. Pray for him instead.” His mother’s words echoed in Wesley’s head.

  Heaving a heavy sigh, Wes got to his feet. He pulled the blanket from the end of the bed and covered Phillip. He wanted to pray, but he wasn’t sure God was even listening to him these days. It always seemed, when he tried to seek God in prayer, that the words just bounced back off the ceiling. He knew God existed—he truly believed that God did answer prayers. So why couldn’t Wes shake the feeling that God was listening to everyone else but him?

  As a part of her routine, Lizzy went to visit her horses every night before retiring. Longfellow and Thoreau had come to expect this, as well as the treats she brought. Zeb had put together a rope pen on land owned by the railroad. It wasn’t much, but it was better than keeping the animals on the train.

  Smiling, Lizzy offered carrots, apples, and her love to her beloved horses. “How are you boys doing?”

  Neither paused in their munching. The treats were far too compelling. Lizzy stroked their manes and continued to talk as if they might join in at any moment.

  “I’m glad we brought you two back early, but I’m sorry you don’t have a better place to rest. The others will be here soon. Uncle Oliver said August would have them back by nine, but as you can see, that time has come and gone.”

  She frowned. August should have been here hours ago. Ella too. What had happened to delay everyone? Lizzy gave each of the horses one last piece of apple and then headed toward the train to find her uncle. She hadn’t gone two steps, however, when someone called her name in a whisper.

  “Lizzy?” Ella appeared from the shadows. She led her black horse and glanced around like a thief avoiding capture.

  “Hurry. Bring him this way.” Lizzy led the way to the railcar where the horses were kept. She startled at the sight of Rupert, one of the wranglers.

  “Hey, Miss Lizzy.” Rupert limped toward her. He’d been severely injured years earlier, and the leg had never healed properly. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

  “Rupert, I need your help and your silence.” Lizzy motioned over her shoulder, then looked all around them, fearing they’d be seen. “We need to hide Miss Fleming’s horse with our own. She’s leaving the farm, and it’ll spell trouble for everyone if she’s found.”

  He frowned. “No problem, Miss Lizzy. I’ll see that he’s in with the other blacks. He’s enough like Miss Betty’s horse that no one will ever notice.”

  Lizzy nodded. “Say nothing. I plan to tell Mother and Uncle Oliver after we’re on our way.”

  “Yeah, I thought we’d be long gone by now. If August doesn’t get here soon, we’ll miss the midnight train.”

  “I know.” Lizzy frowned and turned to Ella, who looked terrified. Lizzy felt bad for her. She was leaving the comfort of all she’d ever known, but not only that, if anyone found out before they got her safely out of town, it could cause no end of problems. “Come on, Ella. Rupert will see to your horse. I need to get you hidden away.”

  Ella nodded and fetched a bag from where it hung on the horn of her saddle. Rupert took the reins and led the horse down to another car before leading it up the boarding ramp.

  “I’m going to hide you in the family car.” Lizzy led Ella to the other end of the train. She hoped her mother was still busy with Agnes. She hurried to open the door and peer inside, then motioned Ella to join her.

  Once inside, Ella paused to take a deep breath and steady her nerves. “It’s such a dark night. I think I got a bit spooked. I thought I’d never get here. I had to ride out by myself for fear of being found out.”

  “Why? Where are August and the horses? They should have been here by now.”

  Ella’s face paled, and her expression filled with fear. “I . . . uh . . . don’t know exactly. There was some sort of trouble. I think it was with one of the horses. My father and Jefferson were both involved, and since they were both busy, I came on my own.”

  “That must be what has slowed August’s return. Come with me.” Lizzy crossed the car to the far side and opened a door. “This will be your room for now. There’s a bunked berth. You can hide on top under the covers. Scoot clear to the back. No one will see you there, given the way it’s positioned.”

  Ella pulled off the old felt hat she’d been wearing. Her hair was slightly mussed but styled as if for a party.

  Lizzy couldn’t help but smile. “Your hair is pretty, but it doesn’t fit the rest of your ensemble.”

  The petite blonde looked down at her costume. “Mara found this outfit for me.” She bit her lower lip.

  Lizzy could see her friend was exhausted and scared. “You’re safe now, Ella. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

  Once Lizzy had seen to Ella, she made her way outside just as the horses arrived. She smiled and started over to where the riders were halting the string of animals. August was nowhere to be found, but the sheriff was prominently leading the herd.

  Uncle Oliver and Jason Adler welcomed the sheriff as he climbed down from his bay. Some of the other wranglers came out and began to converse with the Fleming men. Lizzy moved to her uncle’s side.

  “What are you saying, Sheriff? He’s dead?” Oliver said, his voice pinched with shock.

  Lizzy stiffened. Who was dead?

  “I’m surely sorry, Mr. Brookstone, but it appears the poor man was kicked in the head and then trampled to death. Mr. Fleming and Mr. Spiby are following behind with the wagon and the body.”

  Uncle Oliver turned to her. “August is dead.”

  “August?” Lizzy looked at the sheriff.

  The sheriff tipped his hat. “I’m mighty sorry, miss. Fleming sent his men to bring your horses back. He should be her
e directly to explain what happened.”

  By now most of the Brookstone troupe had gathered. Mother took Lizzy’s arm as Uncle Oliver and the sheriff continued to discuss the tragedy. The Brookstone wranglers took the horses from the Fleming Farm men and began loading them on the train. Jason remained with Lizzy and her mother.

  “If there’s anything I can do,” Jason began.

  “What happened?” Mother asked. “Someone said August is dead.”

  “That’s all I know, except they said he was kicked in the head and then trampled to death.” Lizzy could hardly believe it.

  “With horses there is always a danger,” Jason declared. “I’ve been kicked myself. Very nearly broke my leg.”

  “Yes, I’m sure anyone who’s around a horse for long is going to experience some sort of injury, but August handled horses in such a way that he rarely had any trouble.” Lizzy shook her head. “In fact, some say August had a divine touch.”

  Jason looked doubtful. “Things happen to even the best of men.”

  “He was so young and such a dear man,” Mother said, shaking her head. “How will we manage without him?”

  “I’m sure the other men can handle the horses,” Jason said. “You’ve got a great team of people working for you.”

  “At least for the time being,” Lizzy muttered.

  Within a matter of minutes, Mr. Fleming and Mr. Spiby arrived in an old wagon. They had somehow arranged for a coffin. The wooden box no doubt contained the body of August Reichert. It seemed a foreboding sign, and Lizzy knew many in their troupe were superstitious.

  Mr. Fleming was first off the wagon. He came to Mother and Lizzy and took off his hat. “Mrs. Brookstone, I’m so very sorry. We’ve brought your man back. My people did what they could to clean him up, but there wasn’t much that could be done to make him presentable. I’m afraid the horses were brutal.”

  Mother shook her head. “How did it happen?”

  The stocky man lowered his head. “We have a couple of green broke colts, and I’m afraid they got the better of Mr. Reichert.”