When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  Lizzy touched Ella’s arm. “I know you didn’t want to hurt her. That’s why I suggested you come here. Maybe after Christmas or your birthday, you can send her a letter and let her know what’s happened.”

  “I will. I’ve already started writing it.” Ella paused and looked as if she were struggling to come up with the right words. “Lizzy . . . I really . . . that is, I hope you know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

  “I do. You’re a friend, and you were in need. Goodness, given all that happened with August, I’d never have rested a wink if I’d known you needed to escape and I did nothing.” Lizzy flipped her long braid back over her shoulder. “It’s what friends do.”

  “I’ve never had that kind of friend. One who cared so deeply.” Ella wiped away a tear. “I just want you to know how much it means. I sometimes lie awake at night and think of what must be going on back at home. I miss my poor mother. I know she must be beside herself.”

  “In time, you’ll be able to write to her as well.” Lizzy smiled. “Now, try to put it from your mind. We have a lot of work to do if you’re going to perform in the spring.” She knew that the best thing Ella could do for herself was concentrate on something else. “Come on, let me show you a few things about this saddle.” She glanced at Ella. “Oh, I forgot to ask. How does that split skirt fit?”

  “It’s good. I had to take it in a little, but I think it’ll be fine. It’s a little longer than I need, but given it tucks into the boots, I don’t think it’ll be too loose. If I can get some material, I can make my own.”

  “Good. Mother has a whole sewing room full of materials and supplies. She even has one of the latest treadle sewing machines. Father bought it for her for Christmas last year.” Lizzy sighed. She could still see the love that had shone in their eyes as her mother thanked Father with a kiss. How would she ever go on without him?

  Lizzy shook the memory from her mind and hoisted the saddle. It weighed about sixty pounds, and she wondered if Ella was even able to lift something that heavy. No doubt Wes was right—Ella had lived a pampered life and probably never had to saddle her own animal. Well, they’d deal with that later.

  She carried the saddle to where Thoreau awaited her. She placed it on the ground, then retrieved the saddle pad. She gave Thoreau a cursory rub on the nose.

  “How are you today, Thoreau?” She let him nuzzle the pad. “You’re such a good boy that I thought you might like to show off a bit for Ella.”

  Ella joined her, and Lizzy decided to start the lesson. “I presume you are familiar with all the components of saddling a horse.”

  “Yes, but I rarely saddled the horse myself.”

  That answered that question. Lizzy nodded. “Well, you’ll be doing it for yourself here. If Jason has his way about cutting costs, we’ll probably be doing a great many things for ourselves. You’ll have to build some muscle before you can hoist these heavy saddles, but in time you’ll do just fine. I was saddling my own horse when I was just a child, so I know it can be done.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ella assured. “You can count on me.”

  “Good.” Lizzy put the pad on Thoreau’s back. “I always let him see what I’m doing so he doesn’t get spooked. And I always come from the left. We do that with all the horses.” She lifted the saddle and brought it within Thoreau’s line of sight. “You can see how I’ve secured the right-side stirrup and girth strap up and out of the way. This makes it easier to put the saddle on the horse’s back.” She placed the saddle. “I always shake it a bit back and forth to make sure it’s in the right position. After a time, you’ll get a feel for it.”

  She went on explaining, and after she’d seen to the cinches, she picked up a breast collar. “I use this for extra stability, but some of the girls don’t.” She fixed the collar in place, then stood back. “You can see there are a variety of extra straps and handholds. Most of these I’ve added as I’ve developed tricks where I found I needed a better grip or more security in one place or another. You’ll learn as you train, and you’ll be able to see what works best for you.”

  Ella was an attentive student, and Lizzy had no doubt she’d be able to master most anything, given her willing spirit.

  Lizzy turned to the open arena. This had been a surprise gift from her father two years ago. It was a rectangular building with equipment and storage rooms at one end and an open area for training hour after hour without worry of the weather. There was a bank of large windows at either end to let in the light and overhead lanterns that could be lit if needed.

  “We always keep the horses working in a long oval in the center. You don’t want to get too close to the side for several reasons. If the tour locations are fenced, then you could risk getting snagged during the run. If it’s open, as many of the performance areas are, you could come in conflict with the audience. Of course, we generally set up ropes to keep the audience from getting too close.”

  “That makes sense to me,” Ella replied.

  “To make the tricks look best, we have to prove to the audience the element of danger, yet not look afraid. And we definitely don’t want to be afraid, or the horse will sense that, and then you’ll really have trouble. It’s all about balance and rhythm, and once you have that, you’ll go far. The appearance of the act is the most critical thing. My father taught me that. We’re entertaining people, just like actors on a stage, only our performance is much more physical.”

  Lizzy took up the reins. “I’ll show you a few very basic tricks. Then you’ll practice these over and over in the days to come.” She climbed atop the horse and guided him to the center of the arena. “I don’t know what you know and don’t know, so we’re going to start from scratch.”

  “That sounds wise,” Ella said, moving a little closer.

  Lizzy stroked Thoreau’s neck, then looked back at Ella. “First are the spins. I usually tuck the reins beneath the bridle’s headpiece or throat strap, like this.” She doubled the reins, then slipped them partway under. “This way they’re out of the way but easy to grab if something goes wrong.” She shifted her weight slightly. “I’ll show you this sitting still, but all tricks will be done in motion.”

  “I understand,” Ella said, watching intently.

  “The most important thing I can tell you is that you have to keep looking up. Fix your eyes on a mark well in front of you. Where your eyes go, your body follows, my father always said.” Lizzy smiled. “He incorporated that into a spiritual lesson as well. If we put our focus on the things of this world, that’s where we’re likely to end up. So he always admonished me to fix my eyes on Jesus.”

  “That makes sense to me.”

  Lizzy gave Ella a nod. “Father generally made the best sense in every matter, and in this case, with trick riding, it’s imperative. Your body follows your eyes. If you look down while trying to perform a trick, you’ll go down.” She put her hand on her left thigh. “We’re going to spin counterclockwise. Take your feet out of the stirrups, tucking your leg up and back. At the same time throw your right leg over the horse’s neck. Use the horn to shift your weight, like this.” She made the backward turn. “Then tuck your left leg again and put your right leg forward across the saddle and turn again using the horn.” She did the action as she spoke. “Now you’re facing forward again. In time, you’ll be able to spin just using the horn and your leg muscles, and your bottom won’t even need to touch until you’re back in the saddle. It’s all about continuous motion, and practice will make it look smooth.”

  “I used to do that when I was little,” Ella said, grinning. “I’m so glad I know at least something useful.”

  Lizzy laughed. “Well, just remember the placement of your hands, feet—well, really every part of your body is going to be critical to getting the tricks right. But I know you’re going to take to this like a duck to water.”

  That night at supper, Wes watched Lizzy and Jason from across the table. He hadn’t wanted to come to dinner with the others, but Rebec
ca Brookstone had insisted. She wanted to talk to him about the crates that had been delivered and, it was discovered only recently, disappeared. Oliver was still in bed sick, but he’d been asking about them.

  Wes knew he needed to apologize to Lizzy for his attitude earlier, but as the day wore on, more and more problems came to his desk to be dealt with. Before he knew it, it was suppertime, and the request from Rebecca came to share the meal with the family.

  “I think that’s marvelous, Lizzy. You have such a generous heart,” Jason Adler declared.

  Wes didn’t know what he was praising Lizzy for, but just the fact that this stranger called her by her family’s nickname irritated Wes more than he could say.

  Mary shared a story about her brother. Something from the early days, when Wes had been working with August on the show. She looked at Wes. “Do you remember that? I think the two of you were up all night, trying to figure out what had happened to the saddles.”

  Everyone suddenly looked at him. Even Lizzy’s expression suggested interest in his reply. He tried to put aside his frustrations with Adler. “I do. It was a nightmare, and little did we know it was a joke being played on us by Mr. Brookstone—Lizzy’s father.” He gave a slight smile.

  “He’s exactly right,” Mary declared. “August was mortified because he was new and it was his job to see the saddles were put on the train. When he couldn’t locate them, he thought for sure he’d be fired. But Wes was so kindhearted and took pity on him. He took responsibility for the entire thing and assured Mr. Brookstone that any fault was his. I think August was completely devoted to Wes after that. I know I was.”

  “Wes has always been such an important part of our lives,” Mrs. Brookstone said. “Mark said he’d never met a man he trusted more, outside of family.”

  Wes was uncomfortable under the scrutiny and praise, but he forced himself to give her a smile before refocusing on his plate. Thankfully the conversation shifted again, and he was no longer the center of attention.

  By the time the meal finally ended, Jason and Lizzy were agreeing with Mary and Ella to play a new card game that Jason intended to teach them.

  “Why don’t you come learn too, Wesley?” Mary asked.

  “It’s really just a game for four,” Adler quickly said. “But of course, he could come and watch.”

  “No, I’ve seen quite enough,” Wes muttered. His eyes met Adler’s just long enough to convey his disapproval.

  “Very well. Come, ladies. I think you’ll enjoy this,” Jason said, leading them away.

  “We need to help Mother with the table and dishes, first,” Lizzy said as she started to stack the plates nearest her.

  “Never mind that.” Mrs. Brookstone shooed them away. “Wes and I will manage it.”

  He hadn’t expected to be volunteered but would have offered anyway. He got to his feet and started collecting plates even as laughter came from the opposite side of the house.

  “You really should stake a claim on her,” Mrs. Brookstone said as she took the plates from him.

  “What?” He looked at her in surprise.

  She chuckled. “You know you were her first love. In fact, as far as I know, her only love.”

  “You couldn’t tell by the way she acted with me earlier. I think she has lost any and all love for me.”

  “Well, you did go and marry another. That hurt her deeply. Then when Clarissa died, you continued to avoid and ignore Lizzy.”

  Wes started collecting cups and saucers. He never wanted to talk about Clarissa or Lizzy, but something about having this conversation with Rebecca Brookstone put him at ease. It seemed natural to share his feelings with Lizzy’s mother.

  “Lizzy was a child, and besides that, I always saw her like a little sister.” He shook his head. “If not that, then as a good friend.”

  “I don’t think you still feel that way toward her, not if you’re honest with yourself. And if you’re being honest with yourself, then you should give some consideration as to what she means to your future.”

  He felt his face grow warm. “I . . . uh . . . I don’t think Lizzy wants me in her future. I think she’s well past her childhood dreams and thoughts of romance with me.”

  Rebecca chuckled again and shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She may say and do one thing, but I know my daughter. She’ll do whatever she can to keep from feeling the fool again. If you do have feelings for her, Wes—desires for a future with Lizzy—then you’d better not dally. Jason Adler has made his intentions quite clear.”

  “No doubt he has. Seems to me he’s a pushy sort of fella.”

  The older woman smiled. “You might say that.”

  They deposited the dishes in the kitchen, but before Wes could leave, Rebecca took his arm. “What happened to the crates of alcohol my brother had delivered to the ranch?”

  Wes shrugged. “Well, I figured it had to be a mistake since we don’t allow alcohol on the premises, so I took it back to Miles City and sold it to one of the bars. I figured that made the most sense and wouldn’t force any of us to lie. I’d be happy to go tell Oliver about it right now, if you like.”

  Rebecca smiled. “That was pure genius on your part. Now no one has to acknowledge that Oliver would do such a thing, and we can pretend it was a simple mix-up. Oliver will dry out, and the urge for liquor will ease. At least that is my prayer.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “No, perhaps not,” Mrs. Brookstone replied. “One doesn’t cease being an alcoholic, I suppose.”

  “No.” Wes shook his head. “I’m sure the desire remains. It was pure willpower and your husband’s attentive care that got him off the bottle the first time around, as I hear it.”

  “Yes, that’s true. Perhaps this time my attentive care will suffice to make him want to be sober.” Her expression was tinged with sorrow. “But I know his pain, and it won’t be easy.”

  “No, not for us or him. But God, on the other hand, will find this a simple matter.” Wes tried to sound reassuring. “Like your husband used to tell me, ‘Put it to prayer first and give God a chance. If He—’”

  “‘If He can’t handle it, then you can give it a try,’” Rebecca interrupted. She smiled and nodded.

  Ella woke screaming. She clamped her hands over her mouth when she realized what she was doing, but it wasn’t soon enough to keep from waking Mary, whose room was next door.

  “Ella? Are you all right?” Mary came into the room without even knocking.

  The darkness shrouded them, hiding Ella’s pained expression. She fought back her fear and steadied her nerves. “I had a bad dream.”

  “I gathered that.” Mary came through the dark to Ella’s bedside and sat down beside her. “I’ve had my share of nightmares too. I think it’s all the change and losing August. I’m certain it’ll pass when you get used to being here.”

  Ella tried to ignore the rush of guilt that washed over her. “My father will be livid over what I’ve done. He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Are you afraid he’ll come here?” Mary’s tone was surprised.

  “I suppose I am. I know it’s a long way, but you don’t know my father . . . or Jefferson Spiby. They aren’t used to having their demands denied.”

  Mary patted Ella’s arm. “You don’t have to be afraid here. There are enough ranch hands to fight off an army.”

  Ella drew a deep breath. Mary was right. There were a great many people here who would keep her from being taken by her father or Jefferson. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “It’s not a problem. I just wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I’m your friend, Ella.” Mary got up. “I’ll always be here to talk . . . if you need me.”

  She left, and only after the door was closed and Ella was alone again did Mary’s words truly register. Ella felt even worse. Mary was offering her friendship, and Ella was lying to her. Well, not exactly lying, but certainly not telling her the truth. How could they be friends if Ella wasn’t willing to be
honest?

  “But how can we be friends if I am?”

  sixteen

  Snow came and went, and just as Cookie had predicted, it didn’t last long. The cooler temperatures did, however. The chill remained a silent reminder that winter was on its way.

  Thanksgiving had always been a favorite of the Brookstone family, but this year there was a sense of bittersweetness for Lizzy. She had done well to be strong and not let her feelings get the best of her, but it hadn’t been easy. Her father had cherished Thanksgiving. He loved to talk about all God had done and why he was thankful. He had taught Lizzy to be thankful, but this past year she had forgotten.

  How she could possibly be thankful when Father was gone and Mother was so grieved? Nothing would ever be the same on the ranch or in the show. How could she have a thankful heart when there had been so much sorrow?

  “Is God only worthy of our love when He’s giving us good things, Lizzy?” her father had once asked her after her granddad died. This had come after Lizzy had told her father how angry she was that God had taken her grandparents.

  That question sat heavy on her heart now.

  This year her father’s absence was clearly felt. Even with everyone gathered for the holiday meal, including Cookie, Irma, and all the cowboys, there was a sense of sadness. Lizzy listened to her Uncle Oliver lead them in prayer and then speak about what he was thankful for, hoping she might find something to be thankful for herself.

  “It’s hard not to remember that Thanksgiving was a day my brother relished. He was always good at reminding us of the blessings we have. He could see the good in almost any situation. I remember once, in fact, when we were surprised by a grizzly. We were trapped on the edge of a mountain with very few choices. The sun was just coming up, and this bear seemed uncertain as to what he should do with us. I thought for sure we weren’t going to make it out unscathed. Then the sun came up over the horizon. Mark smiled and said, ‘Isn’t this just about the prettiest day you’ve seen in weeks?’”