The Rich Shall Inherit by Elizabeth Adler Read Free Book Online Page B

suggested Jeb.
    Nikolai’s ice-blue eyes returned from scanning the frozen plains of Russia and met Jeb’s suspiciously. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Why you buy me drink?”
    Jeb shrugged. “Just two foreigners in a strange town,” he replied, “a friendly gesture, that’s all. And you look as though you could use a friend.”
    “Where you from?” asked Nikolai as Jeb signaled the bartender for two Irish whiskeys with beer chasers.
    Jeb Mallory grinned. “The west of Ireland … one of County Clare’s finest sons,” he replied. “But I’m a man of the world, Nikolai, a man of the moment. What you see—here and now—is what you get.”
    Nikolai tossed down the whiskey quickly and then studied his new acquaintance over the rim of his beer mug. He doubted that such fine, regular features and cheerful bright blue eyes could conceal anything really wicked in Jeb’s past, though he had no doubt at all that this handsome black-haired man must have left a trail of broken hearts all the way from the west coast of Ireland to the west coast of Amerika. “Then you are here to seek gold also?” he asked, thawing beneath Jeb’s friendly gaze.
    “You’ve been out to the gold fields then, boy-o?”
    “Not yet. First I earn money for living. Is a construction site on Union Street. I carry bricks up and down scaffolding. Is hard work and dangerous—a man could fall—but money is good.”Nikolai sipped his beer, thinking of the dollars strapped around his waist in a webbing belt sewn for him by his mother. He’d discovered early that having money in your pocket brought its own kind of comfort and dignity, and to him that money belt felt warmer than a new jacket on his back or a grand meal in his stomach. “Soon I have enough to go search for gold,” he added eagerly.
    Calling for more drinks, Jeb gazed mournfully at the pattern of small circular stains on the polished surface of the table. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, boy-o,” he said sadly, “but if it’s your fortune you’re seeking, you’re looking at the wrong sort of field.” Nikolai gazed at him blankly as he leaned closer. “You want to see a rich man?” Jeb murmured. “Take a look at the rancher at the table over there, the one in the chamois jacket and high leather boots. Now there’s a
rich
man! And you want to know how he got rich, my friend? He bought himself some land from the old Spanish grants down by the Santa Ynez River, and then he put sheep on that land and maybe cattle too—and then all he had to do was sit back and watch the profits grow. And with those profits he bought
more
land.
Land
, Nikolai Konstantinov. That’s what you and I should be carving out for ourselves—a great chunk of beautiful California land … acres, hectares, leagues of land. Land to put cattle on, land to graze sheep, land for building houses and cities …” He waved his hand and fresh drinks appeared in front of them as if by magic.
    Nikolai knocked back the whiskey eagerly. “But the gold …?” he began.
    “Boy-o, a handful of gold dust dredged up by the sweat of your brow and at the risk of your life is not going to make your fortune! Too many others have tried it before you. Believe me, Nikolai, that rancher over there is far wealthier than a hundred gold prospectors. Now, I’m telling you this in confidence … I aim to get myself some of that land … stick with me, boy-o, and you could be rich too.”
    Nikolai’s pale blue eyes were fixed on Jeb’s as he listened raptly.
    “There’s no more beauteous a sight than rolling acres of green,” Jeb continued, “just waiting for a herd of cattle or a flock of sheep … and just waiting to put the dollars in a man’s pockets. Sure now, you and I could buy ourselves a fine stake down there, boy-o. The Rancho … Rancho Santa Vittoria, we’d call it … and we could build a big adobe mansion on our land,with a grand piano in the parlor and a fine cook in the kitchen. I tell you,