Three Great Short Stories

By Bob Brewer

Three stories each set in a different century.
"A Time To Live"...Just before his sixteenth birthday, a back-hills trapper gets the chance to become a man and live out his dreams on the trip to Hayesville.

"The Professionals"...A German spy and a British intelligence agent are brought together to prove their loyalties to their countries.

"Heaven's Gate"...Nestled deep in the Himalayan M

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bob Brewer
• Release date: Nov 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311913616

Bob Brewer

Bob Brewer is a U.S. Navy Vietnam War veteran who grew up in Hatfield, Arkansas. Since retiring from the Navy, he has returned to Arkansas to devote his time to investigating the mysteries of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

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THREE GREAT SHORT STORIES

By Bob Brewer

Smashwords Edition

A Time To Live...1859

The Professionals...1945

Heaven's Gate...2000

Copyright 2013 by Bob Brewer

Smashwords Edition. License notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Your respect and support of this author's property is sincerely appreciated.

The characters and locals in this work are purely fictional and are not meant to have any real counterparts other than the historical names.

To Margaret, as always, and to my family.

The three stories in this journey through the centuries were written over the course of fifty-odd years. A Time To Live being the very first story I ever wrote. Heaven's Gate, one of the last. My hope is that you enjoy each of them.

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A Time To Live

April 5, 1859.

A dull gray sky washed over the dark horizon of the low-land hills. Half the day was gone, yet the morning chill continued to hang heavy in the air. A deafening quietness crept across the Dakota plains, holding hostage every living thing with its lonely sound of silence. The minutes dragged slowly by as the impending darkness, like that of a summer storm, edged steadily forward.

Jed squeezed his eyelids together twice and tried to bring things back into focus. He was much too young, he thought, to be losing his sight.

Just before the previous dawn, Jed had started on his way to Hayesville with the back-hills trappers to replenish the provisions they had used up during the winter. This was his first trading trip with the men of the outfit, a journey he had looked forward to for as long as he could remember.

Uncle Jim? he had pled over and over each time the trappers congregated and packed up to head down the mountain. I promise I won’t be no bother. I’m old enough to take care of myself and I can be a big help to you.

So many times he had made that plea, and just as many times the refusal had been the same. Not ‘til you’re sixteen, Jed, his Uncle Jim would say. It’s a dangerous country out there, no place for a boy. You’d best just hang around the camp and get some time under your belt. Your day’s comin’, don’t rush it.

The idea of him being thought of as just a boy gnawed at him. In his own mind, Jed had never been a boy, never had that luxury. His days had always been filled with men’s work of running traps, cutting firewood and curing the skins of their catch. His nights were those without the dreams of a child. Although he loved and admired his Uncle Jim, he resented deeply the fact that he was now fifteen and still not accepted as one of the men. To him, youth was not synonymous with inexperience.

Jed knew he lived in a hard and dangerous land. Had it not taken his Ma and Pa when he was barely five? Had he not seen his older brother kicked to death by a renegade mule? Had he not sat at the campfires and heard the men tell of the hardships they had encountered and endured, and of those who had been less fortunate? Of course, he knew, had known for a long time, that nature held no respect for the life of any one individual. Like the traps they set, the blade of death was cold and impersonal, taking no pleasure in its path and showing no sorrow in its passing. Yes, the land was hard, but it was his land, his home, the only place he’d ever known. He had been born into this way of life, and that alone, he thought, should give him license to share not only in the toils but also in whatever bounties it held.

It was to this end that Jed made his last plea to his Uncle Jim. His argument held, and this time Jim had answered yes.

You mean it, Uncle Jim, I can go? I can really go with you? Jed couldn’t believe his uncle was serious.

We got a lot of work to do first, was Jim’s only reply. He had turned away to give Jed the privacy a man needs to wallow in his own elation.

This was the happiest moment in Jed’s life. He was going to Hayesville, an obscure little burg hammered together by a knot of people who had decided to call their journey west to an early end. Tired and forlorn, they had settled there to farm the rocky plateau only to eke out a living no better than the one they had left behind. Hayesville. It may as well have been Omaha, or St. Louis, or Topeka as far as Jed was concerned. To him it was a city, something he had heard about but couldn’t really envision. Restaurants and saloons, a barber shop, women in dresses, kids, a store where a man could buy anything he’d ever need, and a hotel; a real hotel with beds up off the floor, sheets and pillow cases, and a bathtub with hot water in it; water he didn’t have to share with five other men. Jed had dreamed of this trip all his life. Finally his day was at hand.

It would be several weeks before the preparations could be completed and the strings of pack-mules hitched together for their start down the mountain. As his Uncle Jim had said, there was a lot of work to be done. The men of the camp, thirty-one in all, busied themselves salting, curing and pre-tanning the hides and skins of the season’s catch. Those who were not working in the pelt sheds were making the necessary repairs to the equipment and seeing that the camp was in order for their absence.

Jed worked harder than ever during those weeks, anxious