She watched him go, feeling as if she’d suffered a great loss. It wasn’t quite as bad as learning about August’s death, but the pain was there all the same. Why was he acting this way? What had happened to make him change from the open and kindhearted man he’d been to this moody stranger? She felt tears well up and decided it would be best to seek the solace of her bunk and what little privacy she could have there. If someone saw her crying, she’d just tell them she was thinking of August.
Chris hated himself for the way he’d treated Mary, but it was for the best in the long run. He knew she’d come to care for him—that her friendship could easily develop into something stronger. And that, he couldn’t let happen. His past was too much to put on anyone, which was the reason he had promised himself he’d never get involved with a young woman. He would never marry and, that way, never have to explain the secrets of his childhood and the sorrows that followed him, even now. He’d never have to worry about passing down the shame that haunted him.
Still, he hated that he’d hurt her. He did care for her, and it had never been his desire to cause her pain. She was a special woman, one he could have easily fallen in love with.
As he entered the men’s car, he found Wes sitting at the small table, staring out the window into the night.
“Contemplating life?” Chris asked, doing his best to sound lighthearted.
“Just troubled at the idea of pretending to propose to Lizzy in front of hundreds of people when I’ve already proposed. I don’t like the idea of making a mockery out of something that means so much to me.”
Chris nodded and took the chair opposite him. He glanced over his shoulder toward the berths before looking back at Wes. “No one says you have to do it. It would be a pretty spectacular thing for the audience to witness, but if it doesn’t suit you, then don’t do it.”
Wes sighed. “Then I’d be the bad guy.”
“Yeah, well, that happens in life.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Wes replied, putting his full attention on Chris.
For a moment Chris thought about denying it and going to bed, but something deep within him wanted to talk—to figure out a way to let go of the past.
“I just hurt Mary’s feelings. So I suppose I deserve to be the bad guy.”
“Why not go apologize to her, then, instead of sitting here talking to me?” Wes asked with a smile.
Chris shrugged. “There are a lot of things I can’t explain.” He fell silent. After a time, he glanced up to find Wes just watching and waiting. Something in his expression put Chris at ease. He felt safe. “Tell me more about God. I remember hearing that He punishes the children for the sins of the fathers, going down sometimes three or four generations.”
Wes pulled his Bible from the shelf over the table. “That’s in the Old Testament. I remember reading it too. But while I believe the consequences of a father’s sin will travel down multiple generations—or can—there’s also a verse in Ezekiel, which is also Old Testament, that says this.” Wes flipped through the pages until he came to the one he wanted. “This is the eighteenth chapter. It says, ‘The word of the Lord came unto me again, saying, What mean ye, that ye use this proverb concerning the land of Israel, saying, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge? As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any more to use this proverb in Israel. Behold, all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine: the soul that sinneth, it shall die.’”
“So God changed His mind about sin?” Chris asked.
“Not exactly. Sin is sin. It came into the world by way of one man—Adam—and it’s been dealt with by way of one man—God’s Son, Jesus. See, the Bible says we’re all sinners and that the cost of that is death. But Jesus came and offered Himself up to pay that cost. So while I think children often bear up under the consequences of their father’s actions, I believe we are each responsible for our own sin. Without Jesus, we are doomed to be forever separated from God because of it.”
“But with Jesus, I don’t have to account for the sins of my father?”
“No, you don’t. It doesn’t change the fact that your father is still your father. If he’s done something that everyone knows about, then it’s likely they are going to worry that you’ll do the same. Or it’s even possible that they could believe you had a part in whatever he did. But in Christ you are a new person—redeemed. He forgives your sins, and even though that doesn’t guarantee you won’t have to bear consequences, it does mean you’ll spend eternity with God.” He smiled. “Which sure beats the alternative.”
“I suppose it would. I’ve heard many a preacher speak on hellfire and eternal damnation. It doesn’t sound at all pleasant.”
Wes crossed his arms. “You know, a lot of folks haven’t had the blessing of a good father like I did. It makes it hard for them to believe that God is good and loving. Especially when they had neither good nor love from their earthly father.”
“Exactly. My father was a terrible man. My brothers too.” Chris shook his head. “It has always left me feeling hesitant to trust anyone or to want them in my life. Especially if there is a chance I could turn out to be like my pa and brothers.” He kept his voice a bare whisper, hoping no one else could hear their conversation above the rattle and clanking of the train.
“Take it to the Lord, Chris. Seek Jesus as Savior. He can give you forgiveness and the strength to make your own life—a life that is honorable. It’s as simple as going to Him in prayer—just apologizing for your sinful ways and asking Him to save you.”
“And He does it . . . just like that? What if I’m not on His list to save?” Chris could hardly believe it was that simple.
“The Bible says that God loved the whole world so much, He sent His Son to die in their place. You’re a part of the world, and while it’s true that not everyone is going to be saved, it’s evident that God’s Holy Ghost is working on your heart, or you wouldn’t be here asking me these questions. I think you’re tired of carrying the deeds of your father and brothers on your shoulders, along with everything you know yourself to be guilty of. Why not lay it down at the cross?”
Chris shook his head and gave a long sigh. “Why not indeed?”
Jason stood on the open platform between train cars after discussing details for their time in New York with Oliver. The old man was a good sort and welcomed Jason’s ideas easily, but Jason would just as soon be rid of him. A thought kept flitting through his head that without Oliver and Wes, Jason could pretty much take over and keep Lizzy in the show. She loved what she did, and he knew that if Wes wasn’t influencing her to return to the ranch, she would stay on. Jason could even get her mother to return to the tour, and then he was sure to keep Lizzy. Perhaps if he told her how much they’d suffered without her cooking and mothering of each member, Rebecca Brookstone would be won over. It was worth consideration.
The other idea that had come to mind to rid them of Wesley was to pit Lizzy and Wes against each other. She wasn’t easily offended, so when the idea had come to mind to have them stage their engagement for the audience, Jason had known it would be a topic that would put Lizzy and Wes in a difficult position. Wesley was old-fashioned and private. He would hate the idea of having to perform like a trained monkey. Jason knew it could become a bone of contention between them, and the idea pleased him. He would have to think of ways to further the irritation on Wesley’s part. If he got them fighting—so much the better. Then, when he sent Wesley back to the ranch, he would leave with anger and harsh feelings. Those had a way of growing in the absence of dealing with the problem.
The train rocked sharply to the right, and Jason grabbed the railing. He had never cared much for train travel, and even with the comfort of private cars, his opinion hadn’t improved much. But it was a necessary evil, and he would do what he had to do.
“Well, I see you had the same idea I did,” Oliver Brookstone said, joining Jason
on the platform.
Jason turned and smiled. “I needed a little air—even smoky, it’s better than the staleness of the car.”
“I agree.” Oliver came to stand beside him. “This whole area is fast asleep while we make our sojourn. Still, I can’t help but wonder at the people and places out there. Especially the ones who are still awake at this hour. Are they contemplating us as we contemplate them?”
“You’re turning into quite the philosopher, Oliver. I never really think of those people at all. They’re just out there, and I am here. They don’t enter into my world unless I choose for them to, and seldom do I allow that. Why complicate matters?”
Oliver laughed. “My brother would chide you for having no compassion or interest in mankind. He was tenderhearted when it came to others. He would have given the shirt off his back to a stranger in need. I’ve seen him do nearly that. Thankfully, he only gave his outer coat, but Mark was a true humanitarian, unlike me.”
“I know you miss him.” An idea came to mind. Jason knew the older man still grieved the loss of his brother. He was also given to drinking when his sorrows became too great. If he drank enough, Oliver Brookstone would become easy to manipulate. Jason smiled. “He must have been quite the man.”
“Oh, he was.” Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know why God took him from this world when He could have just as easily removed me.”
“I know such thoughts often leave me sleepless,” Jason said, trying his best to sound sympathetic.
“But you’re a young man. You shouldn’t have a care in the world.” Oliver gave him a look of envy. “I sometimes think we don’t appreciate our youth until it’s too late.”
“My father has often said that you and your brother were very close. Was that true when you were young?”
“Without a doubt,” Oliver replied. “Mark and I were like two sides to the same coin. We had our viewpoints and dreams—some the same, some different—but always they complemented each other in some way. Mark took a wife and had a child, while I remained single. Mark loved ranch life and I the show. Together we were able to help one another have it all.”
“But now he’s gone. That must make you feel such a void in your life.”
Oliver’s expression saddened. “It does indeed.”
Jason nodded. “If I had such a brother, I’m not sure I would have the strength to go on without him. You are a brave soul, Oliver Brookstone.”
The old man frowned and looked off into the black night skies. “No. I’m not brave at all. In fact, I’m quite the coward.”
eight
The next day, Mary sat cleaning her Stevens Crackshot rifle and sharing her heart with Lizzy in one of the staging rooms off the main hall of Madison Square Garden. They’d already learned that the massive arena with seating for eight thousand people was sold out for their one-night performance.
“Something isn’t right. Chris was obviously upset, but he won’t talk about it.”
“Men aren’t generally given to discussing their troubles,” Lizzy replied. “That’s been true of most of the men in my life. They think they’re saving their womenfolk from worry, but their silence is the most troubling of all.”
The scent of gun oil wafted on the air. It was a smell Mary loved. It reminded her of her father and grandfather. “I know you’re right. Opa never talks about his troubles, and Papa didn’t either.” Mary set down her rag. “I really like him, Lizzy. I just want him to know that he can trust me to be a good friend.”
“Or more?” Lizzy asked, grinning. She was braiding ribbons that they would tie into the manes and tails of the horses for their performance.
“Or more.” Mary sighed. “Although if I can’t even get his friendship, I’m sure to be unable to win his love.” She looked down the barrel of her rifle to make certain she was satisfied with her cleaning job. “He will stand in front of my rifle and trust his heart to me, but not where friendship and romance are concerned.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Ella said, opening the door just enough to pop her head inside. Her long blond hair had been neatly pinned up. She looked like a delicate china doll.
“No, come in,” Mary said, lowering the barrel. She picked up the stock and put the two pieces back together before picking up the screw that held them in place.
“I’m glad you’re both here. I need to speak to you about something important.” Ella stepped into the room, dressed for an outing.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes, but I’m hoping you two might join me. You see, my brother, Robert, is in town. He came to see me a little while ago. He has a meeting, but then he wants me to join him for lunch at the restaurant across the street.”
Mary perked up at this. “What did he say? Why does he want to meet?”
“I fear he’ll try to convince me to return home. Perhaps even try to strong-arm me. I don’t know why else he would want to meet me for lunch. He could have said what he wanted to say when he was here earlier.” Ella was clearly worried.
“I’ll go with you,” Mary said.
“So will I,” Lizzy said, putting her braiding aside. “When are you supposed to meet him?”
“In two hours.” Ella chewed her lower lip.
“Well, no matter his reason for being here, we’ll go with you, and then you won’t have to fear him trying to force you home.” Mary finished securing her rifle.
“Did he say anything about your father also being in New York?” Lizzy asked.
Ella sat down as she pulled off her gloves. “No. He did say there won’t be any charges brought against Father or Jefferson for August’s death. Apparently, because of the Montana law officials requesting information, our county sheriff gave pretense of investigating further. It was no doubt a sham, but he declared the matter closed.”
Mary felt her throat tighten. Sometimes she wished she could be a powerful man for just a few minutes so she might enact justice for all the wrongs of the world.
Lizzy gave Mary no chance to pose the question they were both wondering. “Was that all he had to say about it?”
“No.” Ella shook her head and turned her gaze to the table. “He told me not to cause further trouble.”
“What? You?” Mary was outraged. “You haven’t caused any trouble. They brought this on themselves.”
“I know, but to their way of thinking, I’m to blame.” Ella refused to look Mary in the eye. “Robert said that Father is willing to forget what’s happened but still wants me to return home and marry Jefferson.”
“But, of course, you won’t.” Lizzy made such a matter-of-fact statement that Ella couldn’t help but look up. Lizzy patted her arm. “We won’t let you go, no matter what they say.”
“Thank you. I’ve been worried about what trouble Father and Jefferson might cause the show.”
Lizzy gave an unladylike snort. “They’ve not managed to cause us much trouble at all. We had those shows in Kentucky cancel, but other locations were quickly found. The shows were all sold-out with standing room only, and now we’re headed to England, where I’m certain those two hold much less influence than they do here.”
Mary found her voice returning. “I think we should confront your brother at lunch and learn exactly what he knows. Something caused them to kill my brother. Whatever it was that he saw cost him his life, and I intend to know what that something was.”
“We can ask,” Ella said, nodding, “but don’t be too disappointed if he refuses to say. He might not even know. Father has always been very particular about what anyone knows regarding his business. Robert is often gone selling horses and recently even moved from the family farm to his new property.”
“Nevertheless, we can ask.” Mary began collecting her things. “I’ll get this stuff put away and change my clothes. I certainly can’t go to the restaurant dressed like this.” She waved her hand over her simple blouse and navy-blue skirt.
At exactly twelve thirty, the trio entered the restaurant and were
taken to Robert’s table. If he was surprised to see that Ella had brought Lizzy and Mary, he didn’t say anything as he rose in greeting.
“Robert, you already know Elizabeth Brookstone, and this is Mary Reichert.” Ella turned to the ladies. “This is my brother, Robert Fleming.”
He gave a slight bow. “My pleasure, ladies.” The ladies were seated, and he took his place before continuing. “You all look very lovely.”
“Thank you,” Lizzy said before either Mary or Ella could reply. “I hope you don’t mind our coming along. We’re happy to pay for our portion, but we didn’t want Ella going about the city without companions.”
“I quite agree, Miss Brookstone. I’m glad that you care so much for her safety and reputation,” Robert replied. “Furthermore, I wouldn’t hear of you paying for your dinner. I’m happy to make you my guest. However, I think perhaps this also has more to do with you wanting to hear firsthand about the investigation regarding Miss Reichert’s brother.” He looked to the waiter who stood patiently with menus in hand. “Perhaps we might order first?”
“Of course,” the ladies murmured in unison.
Mary looked over the menu and found the selection rather intimidating. Her mind was certainly not on food.
“What do you recommend?” Robert asked the waiter.
The man gave a slight nod. “We have a delectable stewed veal done in a provincial manner and served over white rice.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll have that.” Robert looked to the women. “What about you ladies?”
“I agree,” Lizzy said, setting her menu aside. “The veal sounds fine.” The other two settled on the same.
“Might I also recommend starting with the sorrel soup and then a chilled shrimp salad prior to your entrée?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, bring it for all of us,” Robert replied. “And perhaps tea for everyone?”
Mary nodded, as did Lizzy and Ella. Her mind was still a million miles away from food and drink.
Once the waiter had gone, Robert eased back in his chair. He seemed not the least bit concerned about his company.
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