Search for Gold (eBook)
376 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0837-2 (ISBN)
Steve Stephens has had many careers that span out from counseling and clinical psychology to life coaching, seminar speaking, radio talk show host, university professor, and author of over 20 nonfiction books. He has spent much of his career as a psychologist helping people deal with trauma and all the difficulties that come their way. Ever since he was a child, he has listened to stories about the past and the marvelous adventures of those who overcame overwhelming challenges. With his minor in literature and unending curiosity about history, Steve brings his life experiences together in his new historical fiction book as he shows how people can face heartbreaking adversity and yet accomplish amazing things. Steve is married to his wife, Tami, and together they have three grown children. Currently, they live in the Pacific Northwest, where they enjoy hiking, exploring, laughing, playing games, reading, traveling, encouraging those around them, and dreaming about their future adventures.
Blanche, a 16-year-old whose adventurous spirit won't allow her to accept anything but a life full of wondrous experiences, is always ready for what comes next. Meanwhile, Walter, a 23-year-old mechanic and musician, is determined to find his fortune in gold. Their lives couldn't be more separate until an accident in their small Oregon town brings them together. These two ordinary people embrace the world together facing the hard realities, failures, and trauma that life throws at them. Through it all, the two never give up on their dreams, believing something magical is just around the corner. With devotion and stubbornness, they pursue each other's passions and embark on a journey in search of fortune. During their time together, they shared a lifetime of wounds and wonders, thousands of dances, and many disappointments along the way, and when they inevitably fall in love, the world is turned upside down. Their love never fades, their music is always sweet, and on their search for gold, they find something far greater in value than what can be found in the mines.
WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?
(Saturday, 26 May 1917; Milton Creek, Oregon)
“Get out of my way!” a gruff looking man yelled from the car. He honked his horn—long and loud—spraying gravel as he swerved around the two horses. The older woman shouted, “Watch out!” to her daughter and pulled her horse off the narrow road. But the daughter’s horse reared up on its hind legs and pawed the sky. The young teenage girl gripped the reins with both hands. She leaned into her horse and held on with all her strength. The spooked filly came down hard and reared up again, throwing the girl off-balance. The mother reached out to calm the filly, but it was too late.
The hummingbirds had hung above the honeysuckle every morning for the past several weeks, except for today. A handsome young man softly played his violin on the front porch while his mother sat in her rocking chair beside him reading a cowboy novel. Two coffee cups and a plate of cookies sat on a small table between them. It was a peaceful day and the sweet smell of the flowers was calming.
And then the scream. A terrible scream.
Undina dropped her book and Walter ran for the road. A young girl lay in the middle of the dirt highway, pale and barely conscious, a red scrape on the side of her face just below her cheek bone. Her pants were torn and her chestnut hair disheveled. Her mother knelt beside her, cradling her head. “Blanche, wake up. Just open your eyes.”
The girl didn’t move.
“You’re going to be alright.” She pulled back the girl’s hair. “What can we do?” Walter knelt beside her mother.
The girl’s mother didn’t respond.
“Let’s get her to the house,” said Undina. Blanche moaned and mumbled something. “I’m right here,” said her mother.
Blanche opened her eyes and tried to sit up. “Where am I?”
“Just a little accident.” Her mother kissed her cheek. “Relax and don’t move.”
Blanche closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, a handsome young man with dancing eyes was leaning over her. She smiled.
Walter carried the girl across the road and laid her on the sofa in the parlor. Undina gave her a glass of water and the girl’s mother cleaned the dirt from the scrape.
“You’re lucky,” said Undina. “This could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I usually don’t fall off.” Blanche sat up. “A fancy motorcar came out of nowhere. It sped past us like it was going to a party and panicked my poor filly.”
“That’s when you hold on like a cowboy,” said Undina.
“I suppose I panicked as much as my filly.” Blanche shrugged. “And look what happened.” Undina took the glass back.
“I couldn’t hold on.” Blanche giggled.
“You silly little thing.” Undina looked at her. “If this happens again, you might not be so lucky.”
Walter turned to the girl’s mother. “Aren’t you George Perry’s wife?”
“Yes.” Katie nodded. “And we’re thankful for your assistance.”
Walter introduced himself and his mother. “What are you two doing this far downriver from your ranch?”
“Today is my daughter’s twelfth birthday and she wanted to ride to Resting Lake to see if the trumpeter swans were still there.”
“Too late,” said Walter. “We went there last week and the swans had already gone north for the summer. They won’t likely be back until November.”
“November!” Blanche jumped to her feet. She swayed, closed her eyes, and fainted. Walter caught her before she hit the floor and set her on the sofa. Undina placed a cold cloth on her forehead.
“I’m alright.” Blanche opened her eyes and sighed.
“She needs to rest,” Undina said to Katie. “And since it’s almost noon, you might as well stay for lunch.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Katie held her daughter’s hand. “But we don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“There’s an old Icelandic saying about good food making good friends. So I insist.”
A short time later all four were eating clam chowder and freshly baked bread.
“Are you the famous poet that Judge McBride keeps talking about?”
“The judge is a gracious man,” said Undina. “But I don’t write poetry anymore.”
“Why not?” asked Kate.
“I wrote when I was younger, but a woman my age has more practical things to do.”
“But her poetry is powerful.” Walter smiled at his mother. “And full of melancholy.”
“Life is sometimes sad.” Katie nodded. “Melancholy is my muse,” said Undina.
“Sounds like a poet,“ said Katie. “Someday I’d like to read your poetry.”
“Maybe.” Undina looked away.
“Well, I suppose I should get my daughter home.” Katie and Blanche stood up from the table.
“Are you sure she’s steady enough to ride home?”
“I’m fine,” Blanche said.
“I can drive you back to your ranch, if you need me to.”
“I can do it on my own.”
“If Blanche insists,” said her mother, “nothing changes her mind.”
“I only have a small bump.” She rubbed the back of her head. “And a little scrape.”
“Then I’ll get your horses,” said Walter. “I let them graze in the north pasture.”
Twenty minutes later Walter and Undina watched their guests ride out of their driveway and up the road toward the town of St. Helens.
“What a silly girl.” Undina shook her head. “She’s just young,” said Walter.
“Maybe, but I think she’s reckless.”
“Reckless isn’t always bad.”
“But it isn’t good.” Undina sat down in the rocker and picked up her novel.
Meanwhile the Perrys rode their horses along the river toward home.
“What’s wrong with me?” asked Blanche. “Nothing.” Shrugged Katie. “Everybody loves you.”
“Mother, that’s sweet of you. But there are so many things I struggle with.”
“We all have our struggles,” said Katie. “There is so much about you I admire.”
“Name one thing.”
“You are full of adventure and you aren’t afraid of anything.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Definitely good,” said Katie. “And you also have the most sparkling eyes.”
“You have sparkling eyes too.”
“It’s our Irish eyes.”
“What are Irish eyes?” asked Blanche.
“It’s in one of my favorite songs.” Katie hummed a few bars and then she sang softly, so softly Blanche could barely hear it.
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it’s like a morn in Spring.
In the lily of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay,
But when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure they’ll steal your heart away.
“That’s a beautiful song, but I don’t think it applies to me. Most of the time people don’t even notice me. All they see are the others, my talented brothers and sister.”
“That’s not true.” Katie slowed her horse, looking at her daughter. “Everyone in our family is better than me.”
“All of my children have strengths. Each one of you is gifted.”
“Except me.” Blanche wrapped her hands around the reins. “Even you.”
“I don’t think so. Dale is the best athlete in town. Beth plays the piano like an angel. Billy is the smartest kid in his class. Then there’s me. I’m not good at anything.”
“That’s not true,” said her mother. “You’re good in all three of those areas.”
“Not as good as them.”
“But you’re the kindest and sweetest of all my children.”
“That doesn’t count for anything.” Blanche wiped a tear from her eye.”
“I disagree. Those things are more important than just about anything.”
“I still wish I could be as good as them.”
“Give it time.” Mother smiled. “You just turned twelve. Give it a year or two and maybe you’ll be better than all three of them.”
“Do you really think so?”
Mother shrugged. “You never know.”
“But in the meantime, I can’t even ride a horse without falling off.”
“That was an accident. A motorcar almost hit your horse.”
“You didn’t fall off,” said Blanche.
“I was riding an old nag.” Katie smiled. “You had one of the mustangs. I told your father she was too spirited for you, but he said you could handle her.”
“I guess Father was wrong.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Katie sped ahead. “You’re as spirited as the mustang.”
“Then why did I fall off?” Blanche nudged her horse to a gallop. “If a person never falls off a horse, they must not be riding very hard.” Katie kept the lead as she called back. “Race you to the ranch.”
Blanche held on tight and leaned forward, shouting. “Do you really think your old nag can beat this mustang?”
“Let’s see.” Katie’s long red hair blew about as she sped down the road in a wild dash.
There’s no way I’m letting my mother beat me home. Blanche pushed her mustang faster and faster until she passed her mother. And with the wind in her face, she didn’t slacken her pace until she rode into the clearing in front of the farmhouse on Milton Creek. Her grandfather had built it sixty years before.
“I’ve found gold!” shouted Jimmy, her younger brother, running out of the house toward the horses. “I’ve struck it rich.”
“How exciting!” Blanche smiled as she climbed down. “I’ve been panning in the creek just like Father taught...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 14.8.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3178-0837-2 / 9798317808372 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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