Baruch Elias E-Book

Frank Chandler

• Herausgeber: Robert Hale Fiction
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Black Horse Western
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 176

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Baruch Elias is a lucky man. At twenty-three he has pretty much everything he wants including the girl he hopes to marry. But life never runs so smooth. When a rider races into the yard with some devastating news, he has to unravel a fire, a family secret, a fatal accident and work out how all that fits together. A pair of ridge riders and a fatal shooting put Baruch in grave danger, while a corrupt lawman complicates everything. Fast on the draw and a crack shot, but headstrong and inexperienced, Baruch lets his heart rule his head and that can only lead to one thing … more trouble.

Leseprobe

Baruch Elias

Baruch Elias is a lucky man. At twenty-three he has pretty much everything he wants including the girl he hopes to marry. But life never runs so smooth. When a rider races into the yard with some devastating news, he has to unravel a fire, a family secret, a fatal accident and work out how all that fits together. A pair of ridge riders and a fatal shooting put Baruch in grave danger, while a corrupt lawman complicates everything. Fast on the draw and a crack shot, but headstrong and inexperienced, Baruch lets his heart rule his head and that can only lead to one thing . . . more trouble.

By the same author

The Danville Stagecoach Robbery

Black Hearts Black Spades

Two Trees Hollow

Chace Hexx

Writing as Brad Fedden

A Gold Half Eagle

Baruch Elias

Frank Chandler

ROBERT HALE

© Frank Chandler 2019

First published in Great Britain 2019

ISBN 978-0-7198-3006-8

The Crowood Press

The Stable Block

Crowood Lane

Ramsbury

Marlborough

Wiltshire SN8 2HR

www.bhwesterns.com

Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

The right of Frank Chandler to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

CHAPTER 1

Baruch Elias knew he was a lucky man. The sun was up and the air was warm. A gentle breeze carried the intermittent call of a cactus wren across the valley. A good herd of beef was stirring by the watercourse. Tall stands of corn flourished in soil watered by a snow-fed river, little more than a stream through the summer. Southwest Utah does not have the best of farming country. It is for the most part dry, rugged, deeply gouged by canyons and generally unkind to both settlers and travellers. But it is not all badlands and hoodoos; there are parts where a living can be carved out of the colourful ground. Here and there, brakes of willow and cottonwood follow the sparse tracts of water. Ponderosa pine, bigtooth maples, aspens and ancient bristlecones grow side by side on the precipitous slopes, the lower parts being covered with yucca, cactus and a mix of brushwood, junipers, needle grass and sagebrush. In places, the open ground provides just about enough grazing for cattle.

In its own way, the land stretching out in front of Baruch looked good. But the ranch wasn’t his, nor the crops or the beeves. They all belonged to the father of the pretty young woman who was riding out with him early on that fine summer morning. That was why he knew himself to be lucky.

Ingrid pulled her horse up and brought them both to a halt. ‘Don’t say you got me up early just to see our own cows taking a morning drink.’

‘Of course not,’ Baruch replied with a laugh. ‘I just wanted to do a bit of shooting, and for us to see the sunrise together.’

‘Well, we’re too late for that.’

Ingrid dropped the reins over the horse’s head, slid down from the saddle and turned it loose to munch the grass. ‘Anyway, I don’t believe a word of it. There’s something on your mind. You’ve been like a rattlesnake with a sore tail for the last week. What’s eating you?’

Baruch got off his horse and took hold of Ingrid straight away, firmly and affectionately. He leant down to kiss her, but she turned her head.

‘Not until you tell me what’s on your mind.’

‘Listen, Ingrid, I’m twenty-three and you’re nineteen and your pa knows we want to get married. The time is right and I’m sure your pa will give his blessing.’

‘You know he will.’

Baruch let go of Ingrid and turned his back on her. ‘But there is something I have to tell you. Something your pa has to know and it might make him change his mind.’

‘Never! You’re like a son to him. You’ve been with us for quite a while now, and worked for almost nothing, just food and a bed.’ She looked wistful. ‘Or was it all a scheme just to get me for your wife?’

Baruch smiled at her. Ingrid was a beauty in her own way. She had a wonderful character that could see the funny side of everything and always saw the good in everyone. Perhaps that naïve innocence was what attracted Baruch more than her long blonde hair, blue eyes, fresh complexion and the steely Swedish core that she inherited from her father. Put together, these attributes made her an irresistible catch.

‘Ingrid, when I came to your pa, four years ago, to get me away from . . . from something I’m ashamed to talk about, you were nothing more than an awkward gangling, clumsy tomboy with a toothy smile that made me laugh.’

‘And look at me now!’ Ingrid said with a shrug of self-indulgent pleasure.

But Baruch was being serious. He took his rifle out of he saddle holster and fed it with bullets from his belt. ‘Would your pa still sanction our marriage if I said I didn’t want to stay on the ranch? If I said I thought there was a better life for us somewhere else?’

‘Somewhere else? You know I couldn’t leave my dad. I’m all the family he’s got since my mother passed away. You wouldn’t ask me to leave him, would you?’

‘You see that post sticking up over there?’

‘No.’

‘Way over between those two yucca.’

‘Yes, I see it.’

Baruch levelled the gun sight and squeezed the trigger. A puff of smoke left the end of the barrel along with a piece of hot lead going too fast to see. But the post felt it when it smacked into the wood, sending a shower of splinters into the air.

‘Bravo!’ Ingrid said clapping her hands and smiling.

‘Raising beef and crops and whatever isn’t all that much fun for a man like me.’

‘Like you? What d’you mean, Baruch? A man like you? A gunfighter?’

‘Hell, no, I don’t want to be no gunfighter, but I want a better life for you and me and our children. You do want children, don’t you, Ingrid?’

‘Yes,’ she said, hesitating, ‘lots, but I want them to grow up on this ranch, like I have. I want them always to have good food on the table, to learn their letters and look after our animals. Grow up to be good people, respect the land that provides for them. It’s a good life, Baruch.’

‘Yes, a good life, but is it enough?’

‘Do you mean, am I enough?’

‘No, I don’t mean that at all.’

Ingrid was missing the point. Baruch reloaded the Winchester with a sharp downward pull on the mechanism and fired three more shots in quick succession. Splinters flew everywhere, and on the third shot the top of the post fell away completely.

The sharp shooting wasn’t lost on Ingrid, but she was concerned. ‘Are you angry? Shooting like that?’

‘No, I’m not angry, just restless. You see, I have to tell your pa about Ferdy.’

‘Who’s Ferdy?’

‘He was my baby brother.’

‘Was?’

‘Yes, that’s what I have to tell your pa about. I can’t have any secrets from him if I’m asking him for his daughter to be my wife. He’ll want to be sure I’m going to treat you right. He has to know everything.’

Ingrid frowned. ‘You’d treat me right, wouldn’t you?’

‘Of course.’

Baruch’s bottom lip began to tremble. There was nothing he was afraid of, nothing he wouldn’t stand up to, but whenever he thought of Ferdy’s dreadful accident he could scarcely hold back his emotion.

‘You all right, Baruch?’

‘I’m fine,’ he replied, more brusquely than he meant.

He looked down sorrowfully and his mind’s eye suddenly saw the crumpled figure, the smashed skull, the pool of blood.

He put the rifle back in the holster, stepped forward, away from Ingrid and stood still, legs spread, his arms at his side, right arm slightly lower. Then suddenly his right hand flashed upwards, whipped out his six-gun on the rise, and blasted off four shots at what was left of the post.

It was almost out of range for the nicely balanced Remington .36 with its polished wood grip, but two of the four shots hit the stump with a satisfying thud. Ingrid thought it was a poor show to miss with two bullets, but she had no idea that to hit the post at that range was a feat of considerable marksmanship.

She turned to Baruch. ‘Why do you keep practising with your guns? We don’t get many predators round here.’

‘No, just occasional coyotes and sometimes a wolf, but you never know. One day I might be glad of the practice.’

Ingrid shook her head. ‘You know what I think Baruch, I think you want to be a bank robber.’ She laughed out loud.

Baruch was indignant. ‘I do not. No such thing, Ingrid. I just want to be sure I can protect you if the need ever arises.’

He took her in his arms to kiss, and this time she didn’t turn away but melted into his chest. In that moment Baruch knew he would never let anyone or anything come between them.

‘Promise you won’t shoot your guns at anyone in anger.’

‘Of course not. Why would I ever want to do that?’

‘Well, you keep practising. It’s got to be for something.’

Baruch hoped he’d never need to use his gun in that way. It was just in case, if ever . . . if ever.

‘I have to tell your pa about Ferdy. He must say if he thinks I’m good enough for you. I can’t let this go on unless I know he will accept me for his son-in-law, to be the husband of his daughter. We both know how he dotes on you. You are all the family he has, you are the living memory of his wife, the mother you hardly knew.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ Ingrid assured him. ‘You know she died on the journey to America. I was only two or three. You must have been about six. When I got older, I hoped Pa would find another wife. I used to pray to God for it every night. Maybe in town or somewhere, there would be someone to make his life whole again. Vimy Point is only a short ride from here but he hardly ever goes there except for supplies. Angelina comes round to do some housework and cook fine meals. I know he likes to see her, but she is like one of the family and he doesn’t go out of his way to meet people. I know he misses my mother dreadfully. Sometimes, I think people may only love once in their life and nobody else can fill that void when they are gone. Is that how you would love me?’

‘I would love you to the ends of the earth, you know that.’

‘Then that’s all that matters. Pa won’t think any the worse of you whatever it is that you want to tell him about Ferdy. Are you sure he doesn’t know already?’

Baruch wanted to say more – there was so much more to say, so much guilt to shed – but he didn’t want to bring all his sadness into the moment. It happened on Ferdy’s birthday of all days; he was no more than an eager lad when he died. It broke Baruch’s heart to feel he was responsible for the accident.

He gave Ingrid a brief hug to clear the memory. They mounted up and rode back to the ranch.

Breakfast was a tense situation. The only noise was from Angelina at the stove. When the meal was finished, they were sitting uncomfortably, wondering who was going to say something. Baruch took a piece of corn bread and mopped up the last of the gravy from his plate. Ingrid put her fork down quietly. She sat silently with her hands in her lap, but her eyes were trying to catch Baruch’s attention. She knew he wanted to start the conversation with her father but she couldn’t start it herself, nor find a way to get it started for him.

For his part, Ingrid’s father, Arnie Sigurrson, knew something was in the air. The conversation during the meal had not flowed as freely as usual; it had been hesitant, almost formal. He knew Baruch had something important to say. He took out a small knife to cut the end off a fine cigar but in his anxiety made a mess of it and cursed. He slammed the knife on the table and angrily threw the cigar in the fire.

Red-faced, he turned to Baruch. ‘Well, spit it out, young man, what is it you want to say? Something’s going on, I know it.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ve been wanting to tell you quite a while, but haven’t found the right moment.’

Suddenly there was a commotion outside, and a rider raced into the yard. There was a violent knock on the door.

Arnie got up at once, taking the shotgun off the hook, and went to the door. He shouted the warning that he was carrying a loaded shotgun, then lifted the latch. The rider looked exhausted: beads of sweat were gathered on his brow. He pulled his neckerchief from under his collar and began to dab at the drops.

‘Is Baruch here?’ the man spluttered.

‘Who wants him?’ Arnie replied.

‘I’m Jake Gilling, neighbour to his folks in Vendigo Bluff. I’ve urgent news. I’ve ridden hard through day and night. It’s about his parents, Nils and Hedda Elias.’

Baruch leapt up from the table and went to the door.

‘Jake! What’s the news?’

‘Your parents, Baruch. Their hardware store has been smashed up. Your pa’s in a bad way.’

Arnie invited Jake into the house and sat him down at the table. Ingrid fetched a mug of water and then stood beside Baruch. They waited for Jake to drain the water and recover his breath. He dabbed at the sweat.

‘I’m right sorry to bring you this news, Baruch. But your ma told me where you were and asked me to get to you as soon as I could.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘She is, yes, kinda. But your pa’s taken a bad beating. And the store’s all smashed up, burnt out . . . everything’s lost. The biggest shebang in Vendigo, now just a shell.’

‘But is Pa going to be all right?’

Jake didn’t answer, just pursed his lips and looked away.

Baruch wasted no time making a decision. He turned to Arnie. ‘I have to go to them.’

Arnie nodded. ‘I understand, lad. I’m right sorry to hear this, and of course you want to go back and help them.’ He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder while keeping eye contact with Baruch. ‘Harvest is coming up and the cattle drive will have to start soon. You take as long as you need. I guess we’ll just have to manage for a while. What can we do to help?’

Baruch turned to Jake. ‘Do they know who did this?’

‘Oh, yes, they know all right. No question about it. It was Erik, bold as brass, and a few other no-goods to back him up.’

‘Uncle Erik! Pa’s brother. . . . Why? I thought he was still in jail.’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your folks about that. All I know is that the sheriff knew it was Erik. He rode into town, went into the store and came out later all fired up shooting off his gun, left right and centre. Then he rampaged up Main Street hollering and whooping, and shouting out what he was going to do. Then he went right on and did it. Smashed the place up then set it alight.’

Baruch was silent, trying not to imagine the scene that kept coming to him like a nightmare.

Jake continued. ‘And you know what? The sheriff was standing there in the street and didn’t lift a finger to do nuthin’ about it. Just watched the store burn. Folk were running round with buckets of water and doing what they could, but there was no saving the store or the goods inside.’

All eyes were downcast. Arnie Sigurrson broke the silence.

‘It’s a terrible loss for you, Baruch. It’ll feel like a punishment for leaving your folks alone. When Mira died in childbirth it felt like I was being punished for leaving my homeland to come to this country. The Almighty took away my wife, the son she was going to have, and my dreams with it. It was a boy, you know. The doc couldn’t save either of them. I was suddenly left alone with only little Ingrid to care for.’

‘I was a comfort to you, Pa,’ Ingrid said somewhat defensively, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Yes, I know. I know. And you’ve looked after me very well all these years, and grown into a fine young woman.’

Baruch cleared his throat. ‘And that’s something else, sir.’

Arnie knew what was coming next. He was pleased and not pleased, he had tried to delay the inevitable announcement. ‘You will come back, won’t you Baruch? You’re like my own son, you know. And everything will carry on just as before. . . .’

‘I’d like to marry Ingrid, sir.’

It was blurted out in a way that was never intended. He’d rehearsed it over and over in his head, all polite and calm and as mature as he could be at twenty-three. But when it came to it he’d thrown it out like a challenge, and with a guest in the house as well.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Sigursson, I never meant it to sound like that.’

‘Of course you didn’t, boy. Nobody ever does, but however it comes, it’ll always be a shock to a father. All you ever wish for a daughter is that she marries a good man who’ll look after her and love her and raise a family and always be kind to her.’

‘I can promise all that, sir.’

‘I know. And I couldn’t wish for a better man for Ingrid. If she’ll have you!’

‘Of course I will, Pa, and it means he’ll come back soon!’

Despite this rushed conversation and seemingly happy outcome, Baruch was eager to get going. ‘I must pack and get off. Rest assured, Mr Sigursson, I will be back as soon as I can.’

Baruch offered his hand but Arnie pulled him into an embrace.

‘You are part of the family in every respect, Baruch. I wish you well, take care, stay safe and we will be waiting your return.’

Baruch took his leave to pack, and tears formed in Ingrid’s eyes. Wistfully, Arnie opened the box on the table and took out a cigar. He took up the knife again and calmly cut the end. Angelina got up and cleared the plates. Arnie put a light to his cigar, and then blew out a thick stream of blue-grey smoke.

‘I guess you’d like some breakfast,’ he said to Jake.

CHAPTER 2

Baruch didn’t know what to make of the news; so many things were swirling round in his head. He tried to dismiss the images that kept flashing into his mind: his pa being beaten, his ma being helpless to do anything, the store being ransacked and razed. But worst of all was the thought that this wasn’t some mindless act of a group of no-good ridge riders fired up with booze and bravado – this was something altogether unbelievably puzzling, because it was his pa’s own brother, Erik, who had committed this dreadful act. But why?

Baruch cut a sorry figure tying up his bedroll and putting together his coffee pot, tin mug, strikers and small pack of supplies. He carried them out to the stable and saddled his horse, a fine black quarter horse jokingly named Whitey because of two white feet. He chucked the reins over Whitey’s neck so he could slip the bridle over the ears and secured the curb bit over the horse’s tongue. Ready to go, he checked the rifle and topped up the bullets. He took two boxes of shells from the store, .44 for the rifle and .36 for his handgun. One day he’d buy a new handgun that took the same as the Winchester. He danced his fingers over the shelves and took three packs of tobacco. He’d not been to see his parents since he left four years ago, since that dreadful day when he realized he was the cause of Ferdy’s accident. He’d always wanted to go back home and see his parents, but he couldn’t bring himself to face them. He’d always known how they felt about his little brother Ferdy. He always believed Ferdy was their favourite.

He was wallowing in self-pity when Ingrid came out to the stable.

‘Baruch, you will be back won’t you? And you will take care of yourself. You could wait for Jake and he’d ride with you.’

‘His horse won’t be ready for a couple of days after his hard ride. It’s going to take me about three days to get to Vendigo Bluff and the sooner I leave the better. Besides, I couldn’t sit around here knowing they needed my help. I’ll find that sonofabitch and, uncle or not, I’ll bring him to justice.’

‘But you will be careful,’ Ingrid pleaded.

Baruch took her in his arms and they kissed warmly, not knowing when they might see each other again.

‘Have you ever doubted me?’