When You Are Near

by Tracie Peterson

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Ella spoke. “I wonder if I might speak privately with my father.”

  Lizzy knew what she intended to do. It was Ella’s one chance to be rid of her father and Mr. Spiby. No doubt Ella figured that if she threatened to tell what she knew, then perhaps they would be willing to leave her alone. That was how Lizzy would have played it.

  “I would be happy to speak with you, Ella.” Her father’s expression looked hopeful.

  “Come with me to the dining room. It won’t take us but a moment.”

  Ella left the gathering without so much as a backward glance. She was terrified of her father and Jefferson but knew she would have to face at least one of them. Her father seemed the lesser of two evils. Jefferson was a killer, after all. She could only hope and pray that wasn’t also true of her father.

  Once in the dining room, Ella pulled the pocket doors closed and went to the far side of the room. Her father followed.

  “Why are you doing this, Ella? You know your responsibilities.”

  She put the table between herself and Father. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I know what you and Jefferson did.” She decided the direct approach was best. “I know Jefferson killed August Reichert.”

  Her father paled. “You know no such thing.”

  “I overheard you two discussing it.” She gripped the back of the chair. “I know that August saw something you didn’t want him to see. I know that you felt he had to be dealt with, and I heard Jefferson confess to murdering him. I also heard Jefferson say that he has killed before. I’m prepared to go to the authorities.”

  Her father considered this for a moment. Then, as Ella had feared, he shrugged off the entire matter. “You know as well as I do that no one is going to come against me or Jefferson. No one is going to believe you—an ungrateful child, a frightened bride-to-be. You have no proof.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.” Her father’s confidence had returned. “No one back home is going to lift a finger against either one of us, so you’d do well to get your things and come back with us now. I’m willing to overlook all of this, and once you’re married, I’m sure Jefferson will as well.”

  “Jefferson has never overlooked nor forgiven any infringement against him, Father. You know that as well as I do. Would you truly turn me over to that man, knowing what he is capable of doing?”

  “Rumors—all rumors. He would never hurt you. He loves you and will give you everything your heart desires.” Her father pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. “Now, get your things.”

  Ella eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you so determined for me to marry him? You know he is evil, even if you won’t admit it to me. Do you really want to give your child to a murderer?”

  “Jefferson will never harm you, Ella. We have an agreement between us.”

  “What agreement?”

  Father pocketed his handkerchief. “It’s none of your concern. It’s enough for you to know that a contract was arranged, and your marriage to Jefferson is part of it.”

  “It’s your contract, not mine. I will not marry him.”

  “If you can get him to release you from it, then I’ll have no more to say on it. However, I’m fairly confident Jefferson will never let you go. He loves you, Ella.”

  “Jefferson Spiby doesn’t know how to love.” Ella skirted the table. Once she reached the doors, she pushed them back and turned to her father. “It’s best we join the others so I can make it clear once and for all where I stand.”

  “Be careful what you say, Ella. Words once spoken can never be taken back.”

  Ella marched across the hall and entered the living room. She pointed a finger at Jefferson, who had jumped to his feet. “I am not marrying you. I know exactly what you are and”—she paused, glancing at Mary—“what you’ve done.” She returned her gaze to Jefferson, and from the look in his eyes, Ella knew he understood. “I will never marry you.” The other men had also risen, and she looked at them. “I do not wish to cause you any problem with the show, so if you prefer that I leave, I will. However, I would very much like to continue with you.”

  “I’m happy to have you stay on, Ella.” Oliver Brookstone looked at Jefferson and then her father. “I won’t turn you out. They may threaten as they wish.”

  “You’ll be sorry you took a stand against us,” Ella’s father said, moving to Jefferson’s side. “I am no longer asking, Ella. I’m prepared to take you by force if necessary.”

  “I think it might be best if you two returned to town,” Mrs. Brookstone interjected. “There’s a lovely hotel there, and I believe you will be quite comfortable. That will give everyone some time to think. You could return tomorrow and join us for lunch—if you’re prepared to act in a civilized manner.”

  Father began sputtering. “After I offered you the hospitality of my home, you would send me to a hotel in that poor excuse for a town?”

  Mrs. Brookstone nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fleming, but our house is full to overflowing. Not only that, but our party posed no threat to you or your family when we stayed with you. You’re threatening to remove one of my guests by force.”

  Ella watched as her father assessed the situation. She prayed he wouldn’t resort to violence. It had never occurred to her until that moment that Jefferson probably carried a gun. Would he dare to threaten this family? She was about to yield to her father’s demands when he spoke up.

  “Very well. We will retire to a hotel for the evening and return again tomorrow at noon.” He fixed Ella with a hard look. “You will return with us. No matter what you think you can do or say—I will not allow you to remain behind.” He looked at Jefferson. “Let’s go.”

  Jefferson looked as if he might refuse, but then to Ella’s surprise, he nodded and threw Mrs. Brookstone a broad grin. “I look forward to joining you for dinner tomorrow.”

  She gave a gracious smile. “I hope we all enjoy a more amiable time.”

  Lizzy all but held her breath until the two men exited the house. She wondered if her mother might later send a note taking back the invitation to lunch. She never wanted to see those men again. They were clearly evil.

  “Oliver! Are you all right?”

  Her mother’s urgent voice seized Lizzy’s attention. Her uncle had paled and sunk onto a chair, clutching his chest. Lizzy froze. It was just like Father.

  Wes and Mother were at his side. Mary quickly joined them and began loosening her uncle’s tie. “What is it, Oliver?” Mother asked.

  “I think that was a bit more than I was up to,” he replied. “I suppose I’m not entirely recovered from my trip.”

  Lizzy was taken back in time to when her father had his heart attack. He had been sitting and talking, doing nothing strenuous, when he’d grabbed his chest. She would never forget the look of fear in his eyes. It was the same look as in Uncle Oliver’s.

  “Wes, can you get him upstairs to bed?” Mother asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  “I can walk.” Uncle Oliver got to his feet, but his legs gave out, and Wes lifted him in his arms.

  “It’s all right, Oliver. I’ll carry you. That way if it’s something more, you won’t be exerting yourself.”

  “Mary, tell Irma I need her. Lizzy, go find Phillip. Have him go to town and get the doctor. Tell him to say nothing to Mr. Fleming, however. I don’t want them knowing how their visit affected Oliver.”

  Mary hurried off, but Lizzy stood frozen in place. She could barely breathe.

  “Lizzy!” Mother’s raised voice broke through her daze. “Go send Phillip for the doctor!”

  Lizzy nodded as she forced her feet to move. Half stumbling forward, she fought to get ahold of her emotions. She searched the pens and then the barns for Wes’s younger brother and finally found him working with one of the saddles in the tack room. She felt close to hysterics.

  “Phillip! You need—you have to go right now. We need a doctor.”

  He step
ped toward her. “What’s happened?”

  “Uncle Oliver.” She found it difficult to make sense of what she wanted to say. “Oh, Phillip, go to Miles City and get the doctor. My uncle may be dying.”

  Phillip started for the pen to get his horse, but Lizzy stopped him.

  “Wait!”

  He turned, and Lizzy rushed to his side.

  “Mr. Fleming and Mr. Spiby were just here. They upset Uncle Oliver, and Mother said to say nothing to them if you should cross paths. She doesn’t want them to know their effect on my uncle. Just get the doctor without making a scene and say nothing to them.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Lizzy.”

  After he’d gone, Lizzy felt her chest tighten as her thoughts ran wild. What would happen to them if Uncle Oliver died? It would mean the end of the show and perhaps even the ranch. What would she and Mother do then?

  Tear came to her eyes as she fell to her knees. God, why is this happening? Isn’t it enough that we lost Father? Must we lose Uncle Oliver too? Must we lose everything?

  She wasn’t able to hold back the rush of anguish. How could God take all the best they had and leave them with nothing? Father had been everything to her and Mother. She could still see him lying on his deathbed. His face was pasty, almost colorless. She remembered lifting his hand to her cheek. The tips of his fingers were bluish gray, as were his lips. He was dying. She knew that but couldn’t bring herself to accept it.

  There on the barn floor, Lizzy buried her face in her hands and wept. Nothing would ever be the same without him. It hurt so much to know he was gone and she was all alone.

  You aren’t alone, Lizzy.

  The words echoed in her heart, and she knew the truth of them. She had Mother and Uncle Oliver, but they would die too. They would die and leave her with no one. Then there was Wes. She had loved him for so long and wanted nothing but his love in return. But now that he offered it—now that happiness was within her grasp—Lizzy was terrified. He would die too.

  Mother had said, “I would bear this pain and even more. Your father’s love was worth the price.”

  Lizzy thought of the love she’d shared with her father. He had comforted her when she was afraid, encouraged her when she was sure she couldn’t go on. Father had taught her so much about life and love. Wasn’t this pain worth the love they’d shared? Lizzy wasn’t sure she could answer that question. It hurt so much to be without him.

  She felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her close. She knew without even looking that it was Wes. The thought of his death, of having to say good-bye to him, only made her cry all the more.

  “It’s all right, Lizzy.”

  Why couldn’t he understand? It wasn’t going to be all right. It was all wrong. Life was just one painful experience after another, and she wanted no more of it. How could she bear even one more loss?

  “Go,” she sobbed. “Just go.”

  Wes tightened his hold. “Sweetheart, you cry all you want. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to leave you.”

  His words were whispers of comfort, but they were also lies. Lizzy pulled away, but Wes refused to let her go. She was blinded by her tears, but she could see the love in his expression.

  “Yes, you will,” she said, struggling to break free. “Everybody leaves. Everybody dies. You’ll die too, and I can’t bear the thought. I’d rather be dead myself than lose anybody else . . . especially you.”

  twenty-three

  Mary did what she could to help Mrs. Brookstone, but all the while she wanted nothing more than to ride after Fleming and Spiby and shoot them both. She burned in anger. It wasn’t right that they should go about their business while her brother lay cold in the ground.

  “Stop fussing,” Oliver Brookstone demanded of his sister-in-law. “I’m just fine.”

  “You haven’t been ‘just fine’ since Mark died,” Mrs. Brookstone said in blunt honesty. “You have carried the burden of grief and responsibility like the weight of the world, and now it’s catching up with you.”

  Oliver’s face reddened as he struggled to sit up in the bed. “Nonsense. Just let me get my breath, and I’ll be fit as a fiddle.”

  Mrs. Brookstone glanced at Mary. “Take off his boots.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” he protested.

  Mary didn’t listen to him. She removed his boots and set them by the bed. She had no idea what was wrong with Mr. Brookstone. Lizzy said he had started drinking again during the show tour and that he had once been quite the drinker. It was clear that he wasn’t under the influence of spirits at the moment, but that might have been the problem. Mary had heard that folks who drank a lot got liver-sick when they went without a drink for a while. Grandma said it had something to do with the liver expecting a certain amount of alcohol—needing it, so to speak. Mary thought about suggesting a drink but decided against it. The Brookstones weren’t ones to keep liquor in the house or even on the property, and if Oliver Brookstone was hiding some, he wasn’t going to say.

  “Mary, please ask Irma to come back up here. Then you go about your business. I know you have to practice for the show.”

  “I’m happy to stay if you need me.” She glanced at Oliver Brookstone and smiled. “I’m rather fond of Mr. Brookstone and would do anything to assure his quick recovery.”

  “Nonsense. I’m fine. I just let Fleming get me worked up. I can’t abide a man who thinks he can push around little gals like Ella and not have to answer for it. I don’t care if he is her father. Given what Ella has told us and what we saw with our own eyes . . .” He fell silent, leaned back against the pillow, and let out a breath. “I can’t abide cruelty.”

  Mary nodded, knowing their cruelty had also gotten her brother killed.

  Mrs. Brookstone patted his arm. “You’re clearly exhausted. I knew you shouldn’t have taken that trip. We’re both getting too old for this kind of life.” She glanced at Mary. “Go ahead, dear. I’ll be just fine.”

  Mary left and found Irma ironing in the kitchen. “Mrs. Brookstone asked that you come help her again.”

  “Happy to.” Irma put the iron back on the stove. “Did she ask me to bring anything?”

  “No. Just to come.”

  Irma nodded. “Well, I’ll take a little coffee and some cookies just in case. Could be Oliver just needs something to eat.”

  Mary grabbed her coat and headed outside. For a moment she stared down the long drive from the ranch. It would take hours for Ella’s father and Jefferson Spiby to drive back to Miles City. She could get her horse and cut across the land. She had taken several rides with Lizzy and on her own. Mary figured she knew the lay of the land well enough to ambush the men responsible for her brother’s death. The temptation to confront them and learn why they had killed her brother was strong.

  The air had warmed the night before, and most of the snow had melted. Despite the cold temperatures, Mary knew it would be difficult to slog her way across some of the open range. She knew too that killing two men in cold blood wasn’t the right thing to do. She wasn’t even sure she could pull the trigger with a man in her sights, even if that man was her brother’s killer. No, as much as she wanted them to pay for what they had done, she knew it was better to go about it legally.

  Mary stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and turned toward the arena. She and Alice were supposed to be practicing their horseback shooting act. She glanced at the cloudy skies overhead. “I promise, August, I will get justice for you.”

  Ella was in the arena when Mary came through the door. She was sitting alone, and there was no sign of Alice.

  “Are you all right?” Mary asked.

  “No. I doubt I’ll ever be all right again. I can’t abide that my father and Jefferson Spiby will get away with murder.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mary said, sitting beside Ella.

  “But I do. I told my father that I know what happened.”

  Mary took Ella’s hands and turned her. “What did he say?” She studied El
la’s face for any clue.

  “He said what I knew he’d say. No one will believe me, and he has friends enough to make sure nothing ever happens to cause him problems.”

  “And Mr. Spiby?”

  Ella shook her head. “Something intricately connects the two of them. So much that my father would force me to marry a man known for his cruelty and abuse. Not only that, but Father knows him to be capable of murder, yet he would give his daughter away to such a man.”

  “I am sorry, Ella.” Mary sighed. “I considered riding after them.”

  “To kill them?”

  Mary was surprised by Ella’s matter-of-fact manner. “Yes.” She barely whispered the word. She wasn’t proud of her desire to see them dead. After all, bad or good, they were human beings, and life was sacred. If she killed them, she’d be no better than they were.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I brought anyone else into this.”

  Mary put her arm around Ella’s shoulder. “You didn’t. They did this. They brought it on themselves when they decided to kill my brother. Whether you had come here or not, I would have eventually ended up there to question them about what happened. I might have ended up dead as well.”

  “I just don’t know what to do. My father has threatened to ruin the show if I stay, yet I cannot return. I won’t give myself to Jefferson. I would rather die.” Tears slipped down Ella’s cheeks. “Maybe that’s the answer.”

  “No!” Mary hugged her close. “No more death. I want justice for my brother, but not at the price of your life.”

  Ella pulled away and looked at Mary. Her face was contorted in grief. “Then what are we going to do?”

  Mary shook her head as she got to her feet. “I don’t know. I suppose we must pray even more about it than we have. God won’t be mocked, Ella. He knows the truth of what happened, even if no one else does. Surely He will show us what must be done.”

  “I won’t leave you, Lizzy.” Wes wanted nothing more than to bring her peace of mind and heart. “I promise.”