by Barbara Goss
The Shotgun Proposal
Barbara Goss
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All scripture is quoted from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2017 Barbara Goss
All Rights Reserved
Kindle Edition
Cover design by: Samantha Fury
Edited by: Elise Sherman Abram
This book is dedicated to Michael Zanzinger, my adopted German son, for his help with the German words and phrases.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
THE END
PROLOGUE
After most of the aristocrats of Victoria, Kansas had fled back to their homeland after failing at farming, a community of German Russians took over the settlement.
Due to religious persecution, many Germans in the 1700s had moved to Russia for several generations. In the late 19th century, they were tempted by the railroad companies advertising lush farming land grants in Kansas. However, a definite language barrier between the Kansans and these immigrants kept them isolated in their own settlements for several years.
The German they spoke was often not understood by people who came to America from Germany due to corruption under Russian influence.
These immigrants were hard working and industrious farmers, and the settlements soon grew and prospered.
Victoria is located ten miles from Hays, Kansas.
Chapter 1
Rance Balcomb stood at his parents’ graves, and bent to set the bouquet of flowers near the tombstone. It had been nearly six months since his father had died. His mother had passed away five years earlier. He knelt and pulled weeds from the ground near their tombstones. Rance had never felt so alone.
He got up, brushed off his trousers, mounted his horse, Samson, and trotted toward home. As he approached the house he’d lived in for the past ten years, he felt even more alone. The house was large, three-stories, and palatial, with five large stables to the right of it. His father had started the horse-breeding ranch after he’d bought the land, and the business had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, growing from one stable to five. His father had worked hard for it; it hadn’t come easily.
He remembered having lived in a tent while the house was being built. His grandfather, Joseph Balcomb, had lent his father enough money to build a house and a stable. Now, they had five buildings, filled to capacity with the finest horseflesh in the state. It was all his, and it scared him. What if he failed in running the business? Had his father taught him well enough to succeed?
For these last six months he’d mourned and done little as far as breeding. It was already early spring, and he knew he had to start getting serious about the stables and horses. He’d have to stop grieving and start breeding and running horse shows and auctions.
He spent the next week hiring extra stable hands, cleaning, and classifying the horses he planned to breed.
The housekeeper and cook his parents had hired had left when his father had died‒she was getting on in years and he thought she feared that, had he failed at ranching, he’d not be able to pay her.
After church that same week, he'd asked around and found a widow in need of employment. He was introduced to her, and he hired her on the spot. She was a well-rounded woman of fiftyish who looked the type to cook up a storm. Clara had also needed a home, so she agreed to live-in as well.
After hiring Clara, Rance felt he'd finally accomplished nearly all of his present goals. All he needed was a plan for the months to come. He decided to start with an auction. He had the newspaper office print ads for the event, as well as some posters that he plastered all over Hays, announcing the sale.
The day of the auction he estimated about fifty men had shown up, but he was surprised when half of them didn’t speak English. Luckily, they’d brought an interpreter with them. Through the interpreter, he sold twenty-seven horses to the foreigners, and twenty to the other buyers.
“Where are these men from?” Rance asked the interpreter.
“They’re Russian-Germans or Germans who’ve been living in Russia for a few generations, and there are only a few of us Germans who can understand most of what they’re saying. Even I have a problem sometimes. By the way, my name’s Henry Bauman, at your service.”
“Do they live here, in Hays?” Rance was confused. Where had they come from and why hadn’t he heard about them before?
“They took over Victoria, recently vacated by the Englishmen. The railroad, in order to grow, needed more people here, in Kansas, so they promoted Kansas land all over Europe. Most of these people were tenant farmers, anxious to have land of their own,” Henry said. “They’re experienced farmers with ambition. Most have quite a bit of money they’ve been saving, so you might sell more horses to them.”
“I’m happy to do business with them as long as you accompany them,” Rance said, shaking his hand. “There are three of us interpreters that came to Kansas along with them. The railroad is paying our wages until these people get settled.”
“How many of them are there in Victoria?” Rance asked.
“Seventy, but there are more in other locations in Kansas. Two hundred, in all. It seems they’ve split into different locations, according to their religions. The families in Victoria are all Catholic. Some of the others are Lutheran, and there are quite a few Mormons,” Henry explained.
“I wish them well,” Rance said.
As the men got into the back of wagons that had brought them to the auction, he noticed one man gazing around his house and stables with interest. Rance wished he could talk to the man and offer him a tour of the ranch.
Ernst Schuster, a formidable man, paced before his office desk as he mentally tried to form his answer. He kept tugging on his mustache as he stretched his wide, solid shoulders, towering over the man standing near his desk.
“I would like an answer,” Emil Oberman said in their native language of Russian-German.
“No!” Ernst said in a raised, gruff voice. “You may not court my daughter. I order you to stay away from her.”
“I love Elsa!” he exclaimed. His hands formed into fists at his sides. He wore his hair longer than most, to just below his ears, and he was a slight man with a pleasant enough face.
Ernst stroked his thin mustache and said in a calm voice, “You have nothing to offer her. She’s a beautiful woman and can do better than you.” Then he shouted, “Leave her be!”
Emil cowered a bit. “I’ve followed your family here for no other reason than to be near her,” Emil said meekly. “She loves me, as well.”
“If what you say is true, she will get over it.” Ernst walked across the room and opened the door. “You are free to return to the homeland. You are not wanted here, and you will not court or marry Els
a or any of my other daughters.”
Emil walked to the door, but before going through it, he turned and seemed to gain a bit of confidence. “Mark my words: I will have her.”
Ernst shook his head as he watched him walk down the hall and out of the house.
He knew Oberman was a penniless pauper and not worth Elsa’s interest. A mere farmer’s helper earning an hourly wage was not what he’d planned for his daughters. Elsa was the prettiest of his five daughters and deserved better, and by God, she’d have better. Elsa’s union with a prosperous man would help him and his family, as well. His mind kept returning to the man who’d sold him the horse last week. The house and stables had shown the man’s riches and his ambition. That was the caliber of man he wanted for his daughters.
Ernst opened the office door and walked to the curved, oak, stairway. “Elsa! Come down to my office,” he bellowed. “Now!”
Elsa sat brushing her ebony hair but stopped abruptly when she saw Emil mounting his horse and galloping away through the window. How odd that he’d be visiting her father. Seconds later, her father’s booming voice had vibrated the picture over her bed, causing her to jump. Why had he wanted to see her, and why did he have to yell? What had she done now? Or…she held her hand to her heart—had Emil asked her father if he could call upon her?
She threw the brush down and ran from the room, down the stairs, and into her father’s office. Her heart raced since she knew he was about to tell her that Emil had permission to court her. Hadn’t he told her just the other day that it was about time she married?
The library was where her father had set up his desk to use as an office since they had few books; the shelves were practically bare.
As excited as she was, she kept her voice calm, although she knew the eagerness showed in her eyes and blushing cheeks. “Yes, Father?”
“You will not see Emil again. Is that understood?” he bellowed.
Elsa felt her chest constricting with disappointment and surprise. “But why Father? I’m fond of Emil.” Though Emil had never openly courted her, they’d been neighbors back in Russia, and he’d often snuck over, kissed her a few times, and whispered his fondness for her. She hadn’t taken it seriously, at least, not until he’d followed her to Kansas.
“He has nothing to offer you. You deserve better.”
“But he loves me!” she cried with her hands folded over her heart.
“Mind your mouth!” Ernst slapped Elsa’s face. “Love? Bah!” he spat. “You will need money to live in a decent home and for your children. Don’t you want them to have a better life?” He paced. “Love will not pay the bills. I will find you a good husband.”
Elsa held her hand to the warm spot on her face where he’d hit her. “But Father, the only other single men in the settlement are Herrman Gantz and Wilhelm Buchmuller, and I’m not fond of either of them at all.”
“None of the men in this settlement are worthy of you,” he said loudly. Then he continued in a normal tone, “I met a man in Hays when I went to buy a horse last week. I didn’t buy one because I wanted an excuse to go back there, and I’ll buy one then. You will marry him! I had Henry ask at the bank and the teller said he was single and lives alone. He’s perfect.”
“I don’t even know him,” she said meekly, fearing another slap if her voice held even the slightest hint of rebellion.
“He’s rich and can provide for you and that’s all you need to know,” he said. “You will go with me tomorrow to purchase a horse, and I want you to try to attract him. Then you will invite him here and see that he compromises you so I can force a marriage,” he said.
“Father, is he German?”
“No, he’s English speaking.”
“How can I attract him if we don’t speak the same language?” she asked politely.
“You’re a beautiful woman, and you will do this or the consequences will be swift and painful if you don’t succeed.” He touched his belt menacingly before turning and leaving the room.
Elsa shivered. Yes, she knew very well how his thick belt felt on her back. Her sisters and mother knew the feel as well. When he sat and drank Vodka at night, they all stayed out of his way.
She sighed. So, now, she had the task of attracting a man who didn’t even speak her language. How was that possible? She hoped that he was at least fair to look upon and easier going than her father.
Her heart ached for Emil—how could she possibly marry anyone but him? She was mostly attracted to his meekness since she needed a man the total opposite of her father. Living in constant fear of a beating was no way to live. His five daughters had never served any purpose for him, and now he wanted to use them to attract rich husbands.
She flopped into her father’s desk chair, and laid her head back, and thought hard. Unless she wanted to feel his leather belt against her back again, she had to succeed. What if this man already had a sweetheart and would be immune to her flirting? And how did one go about flirting with a man to whom she couldn’t communicate?
Not only had she been ordered to attract the man, but to compromise him as well. When neither could speak the same language? Impossible.
She stood, walked to the door, and proceeded up the staircase to her room. Maybe her sister, Marta, who was just two years younger than she, would have some suggestions.
“Oh, no, Elsa! What will you do?” Marta asked trying to braid her own sable hair as she sat on the bed she shared with Elsa.
“I thought you’d have an idea. You’re always reading those romantic novels,” Elsa said, grabbing her sister’s braid and redoing it properly.
“Let me think,” Marta said. “Lady Antonia, in my last novel, fainted to get attention from her love interest. Might you faint?”
“Maybe I could. Good idea. Do you have any more ideas? Just in case that doesn’t work.”
“Hmm, let me think.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then popped them open. “I’ve got it! The heroine in another novel used eye contact and a lot of smiling. If that doesn’t work, then I’d go for the faint,” Marta said. “In one novel, the woman wore a red dress with a neckline that showed—”
“No! Marta! If you think of anything else‒anything decent‒please tell me. I’m going to worry about this all night long,” Elsa said as she finished the perfect braid for her sister.
“Thank you,” Marta said as she admired her braid in the mirror. “I’ll pray that you succeed. I’ll do many rosaries and plead to the saints on your behalf. I cannot bear the sound of one of us being beaten, especially when it’s Mother. I wonder what horrible plan he’ll have for me when it’s my turn to marry.”
“Maybe we could run away,” Elsa said.
“Ha! We’re strangers in this land and would be lost one mile from Victoria in any direction,” Marta said.
Elsa sighed. “How about half a mile?”
“I’m frightened, Marta. I can’t see any way to succeed. I know if I were to be successful, it would somehow turn into something Father could capitalize on, you can be sure of that.”
Chapter 2
Elsa sat beside her father on the driver’s bench as they rode to the horse ranch. She was so nervous she had to fold her hands to keep them from shaking. She was wearing her usual daily garment, a gray, cotton dress, an apron, and a kerchief on her head.
Her father slowed the wagon. She gazed at the house before her, and it took her breath away. Her eyes traveled to the stables and the large corral where several horses were being led around. It was all so impressive. No wonder her father wanted her to marry this man—but he was still a stranger.
He stopped the wagon in front of the corral and a man, dressed all in black, handed the rope of the horse he’d been leading to another man, walked over to the fence, and leaped over it with little effort. He was tall, of medium build, and his face looked stern since he wasn’t smiling. He looked scary to Elsa, and she hoped this was not the man her father wanted her to compromise.
Henry hopped down from the
back of the wagon and helped Elsa down. Elsa knew he was in on the plan and that he had been told to help it along. As Henry pulled her toward the formidable man, Elsa cast her eyes downward, but before she did, she noticed his piercing brown, almost black, eyes. He stood with his legs spread apart and his arms crossed over his chest, and she wanted to run back to the wagon.
Her father had joined them and at their approach, the man removed his hands from his chest and shook hands first her father, and then with Henry. She remembered what Marta had told her and forced herself to look at him. He was smiling slightly, and so she gave him her best smile when he nodded her way. When he and Henry began a conversation she couldn’t understand, Elsa smiled shyly each time he looked her way, But he didn’t seem the least bit interested. Drat!
She heard her father tell Henry he wanted to buy a horse and have it delivered to his home. Henry n relayed that to the man, and she saw him nod in lieu of an answer. So, that was her father’s game: having him come to Victoria. She supposed he’d depend on her to do the rest. Great.
The men started walking toward one of the stables and Elsa simply followed. The man showed her father horse after horse until finally, her father picked out a cream-colored palomino. They began the tiresome interpretations, and though Elsa tried to keep up, she felt lost. Her father would tell Henry what to tell the man, the man would answer to Henry to relay to her father. It seemed to her they were striking a bargain.
Then Henry turned to her. “Your father and I are going to the bank to draw out the money for a down payment for the horse. You will stay here.” He turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the man.
He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. He smiled a bit, pointed to himself, and said, “Rance.”
She gave him a shy smile, complete with blinking eyes as Marta had instructed, pointed to herself, and said,“Elsa.”
