Informationen zum Autor Louis L'Amour is the only novelist in history to receive both the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal. He has published ninety novels; twenty-seven short-story collections; two works of nonfiction; a memoir, Education of a Wandering Man ; and a volume of poetry, Smoke from This Altar . There are more than 300 million copies of his books in print. Klappentext Val Darrant was just four years old the snowy night his mother abandoned him. But instead of meeting a lonely death, he met Will Reilly-a gentleman, a gambler, and a worldly, self-taught scholar. For ten years they each were all the family the other had, traveling from dusty American boomtowns to the glittering cities of Belle Époque Europe-until the day Reilly's luck ran out in a roar of gunfire. But it wasn't a gambling brawl or a pack of thieves that sealed Will's fate. It was a far more complex story that Val would soon uncover-one that would bring him face-to-face with the one person he least wants to see: his mother. With the help of a beautiful, street-smart rancher and the woman who was Will Reilly's lost love, Val must close this last cruel chapter of his past before he can turn the page on an uncertain future. Leseprobe Chapter One It was dark and cold, the only light coming from the crack under the ill-fitting door. The boy huddled in the bed, shivered against the cold, listening to the low mutter of voices from the adjoining room. Outside everything was buried in snow. The window was thick with frost, shutting out what light there might have been. Once he heard boots crunch on the snow as a man walked back from the street. Suddenly Ma's voice lifted, strident and impatient. "I've got no time for the kid! Now you get rid of him! Let one of those farmers have him. They all seem to want kids. Lord knows they have enough of them." Then Van's voice, quiet, even-tempered as always. "Myra, you can't do that! He's your son. Your own flesh and blood." "Don't be a fool! There's no place in my life for a kid." After a moment of silence, she added, "What kind of a life could I give him? Batting around from cow town to mining camp? Get rid of him, Van." Her voice rose sharply. "You get rid of him, or I'll get rid of you." "Is that all it means, then? I knew you were a hard woman, Myra, but I thought I meant more to you than that." "You're a fool, Van. Without me, you'd be cadging for drinks around the saloons. You take him out of here right now, and get rid of him. I don't care how you do it." The boy tried to huddle into a tighter ball, tried to shut his ears against the voices, to close out the growing terror. "All right, Myra. I'll see to it." There was a mutter of voices again, and then he heard Ma go out, listened to her retreating steps as she walked along the path toward the street. For a few moments there was silence, then the faint clink of glass in the next room; the door opened, letting a rectangle of light fall upon the bare plank floor. "Val? Are you awake? We've got to get you dressed." "All right." Anything was better than the cold bed, but he dreaded going out into the night, and dreaded more whatever was to come. He liked Van, and he trusted him. Sometimes when they talked Van referred to themselves as the two V's. Van was slim and tall, with a sort of faded elegance; there was a puffiness around the cheeks, and an ever-present smell of whiskey; but his easy good manners never failed him, and Val admired him for that, and for the stories of his boyhood that he often told Val when Ma was not around. She detested hearing Van talk about anything that had happened before they met, and would not tolerate any mention of his family or the scho...

Autorentext

Louis L’Amour is the only novelist in history to receive both the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal. He has published ninety novels; twenty-seven short-story collections; two works of nonfiction; a memoir, Education of a Wandering Man; and a volume of poetry, Smoke from This Altar. There are more than 300 million copies of his books in print.

Klappentext

Val Darrant was just four years old the snowy night his mother abandoned him. But instead of meeting a lonely death, he met Will Reilly-a gentleman, a gambler, and a worldly, self-taught scholar. For ten years they each were all the family the other had, traveling from dusty American boomtowns to the glittering cities of Belle Époque Europe-until the day Reilly's luck ran out in a roar of gunfire.

But it wasn't a gambling brawl or a pack of thieves that sealed Will's fate. It was a far more complex story that Val would soon uncover-one that would bring him face-to-face with the one person he least wants to see: his mother. With the help of a beautiful, street-smart rancher and the woman who was Will Reilly's lost love, Val must close this last cruel chapter of his past before he can turn the page on an uncertain future.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

It was dark and cold, the only light coming from the crack under the ill-fitting door. The boy huddled in the bed, shivered against the cold, listening to the low mutter of voices from the adjoining room.

Outside everything was buried in snow. The window was thick with frost, shutting out what light there might have been. Once he heard boots crunch on the snow as a man walked back from the street.

Suddenly Ma's voice lifted, strident and impatient. "I've got no time for the kid! Now you get rid of him! Let one of those farmers have him. They all seem to want kids. Lord knows they have enough of them."

Then Van's voice, quiet, even-tempered as always. "Myra, you can't do that! He's your son. Your own flesh and blood."

"Don't be a fool! There's no place in my life for a kid." After a moment of silence, she added, "What kind of a life could I give him? Batting around from cow town to mining camp? Get rid of him, Van." Her voice rose sharply. "You get rid of him, or I'll get rid of you."

"Is that all it means, then? I knew you were a hard woman, Myra, but I thought I meant more to you than that."

"You're a fool, Van. Without me, you'd be cadging for drinks around the saloons. You take him out of here right now, and get rid of him. I don't care how you do it."

The boy tried to huddle into a tighter ball, tried to shut his ears against the voices, to close out the growing terror.

"All right, Myra. I'll see to it."

There was a mutter of voices again, and then he heard Ma go out, listened to her retreating steps as she walked along the path toward the street. For a few moments there was silence, then the faint clink of glass in the next room; the door opened, letting a rectangle of light fall upon the bare plank floor.

"Val? Are you awake? We've got to get you dressed."

"All right."

Anything was better than the cold bed, but he dreaded going out into the night, and dreaded more whatever was to come. He liked Van, and he trusted him. Sometimes when they talked Van referred to themselves as the two V's.

Van was slim and tall, with a sort of faded elegance; there was a puffiness around the cheeks, and an ever-present smell of whiskey; but his easy good manners never failed him, and Val admired him for that, and for the stories of his boyhood that he often told Val when Ma was not around. She detested hearing Van talk about anything that had happened before they met, and would not tolerate any mention of his family or the schools he had gone to. His family had been wealthy, and the schools had been good schools.

Van struck a match and lighted the lamp. In the light, the bare room looked even more bleak and empty, even emptier than the rooms on the farm where he had stayed until a few weeks ago.

It had been cold there, too, although there was usually a fire in the fireplace, and the farmer and his wife had been kind. The…