Destiny’s Way

A Novel of the Big Bend

by

Ben H. English

Historical Fiction / Suspense

Publisher: Creative Texts Publishers

Date of Publication: January 18, 2020

Number of Pages: 363

Kate Blanchard woke up one morning in a dream home she could no longer afford, with a young son who needed a man’s influence, and not a friend among those who had claimed to be prior to her husband’s mysterious disappearance.

About all she had left was a ramshackle ranch along Terlingua Creek, sitting forlornly in the desolate reaches of the lower Big Bend. It was the only place left she could go. There she finds a home and a presence of something strange yet comforting that she can’t put her finger on or fully understand.

With that ethereal presence comes Solomon Zacatecas, a loner with his own past and a knowledge of her land near uncanny in nature. He helps her when no one else can and is honest when no one else will be, but she suspicions that he is not always completely so.

Yet her quiet, unassuming neighbor proves to be more than capable in whatever situation arises. That includes when standing alone against those who would take everything else that Kate had, including her life as well as her son’s.

Praise

“This is one of those rare books that you simply can’t put down. Ben English ‘s writing style is pure magic. He really brings this historical fiction book to life. Immediately, you are drawn to the main characters Kate and Solomon and feel as though you are right there next to them, experiencing what they are experiencing. Destiny’s Way is one that would do well on the Silver Screen.”  — Catherine Eaves, published author

“Ben does a superb job with this book! Excellent characters, true-to-life environment that is part and parcel of the story, twists and turns enough to make you wonder what is going on, and a slice of life down in Big Bend that rings true. That area has historically been full of ‘characters’ throughout its history, and Ben brings those characters into the book, raising the hair on the back of your neck. Highly recommended!”  — J. L. Curtis, author of the Grey Man series

“Ben, I love how your words and your memories reach out and connect the past with the present and touch so many people along the way. You are the connector! Bravo Zulu, my friend.”  — Matt Walter, Museum of the Big Bend Curator

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Excerpt from Chapter 6 of Destiny’s Way

Gideon lived to a ripe old age, beating all odds of survival. Was he haunted by the demons of the dead for what he had done? No one knows, because no one dared ask. But in that time he went from being a man of some local repute to a living legend named after a ferocious predator. Some say his spirit still roams the Big Bend and when those of evil intent feel a sudden unexplained chill, it is the ghost of El Tigre warning them that he is still out there, some place.”

Zacatecas fell silent and Jamie stared at him with large, saucer-sized eyes, fixated on what had been said. Kate Blanchard might never have admitted it, but she herself had been swept up and away by this grim tale of vengeance. It was not only the story itself, but also how the saga was told by this quiet man sitting at her kitchen table. It was as if he himself had been there when it had all occurred.

“Time to get ready for bed, Jamie.” Kate nearly startled herself as she spoke, it had been so quiet in the interlude after Solomon finished.

“Yes, Mommy.” The small boy slid out of his chair and started from the room. But in the doorway he stopped and turned around, a question in his eyes.

“Solomon” he asked, “do you believe the ghost of El Tigre still wanders the Big Bend?”

“Yes, I do Jamie,” Zacatecas replied. “Sometimes when by myself, I get a strange feeling and look up, half expecting to see him horseback high on some ridge, watching.”

“Aren’t you ever scared?”

“No. I know in my heart that Gideon would never harm me. Nor would he ever do anything to you or your mother. Only bad people need to fear The Tiger.”

Jamie thought about Solomon’s last remark for a moment, then grinned and ran quickly up the stairs.

“That was quite a story, Mr. Zacatecas” Kate said, looking carefully at her dinner guest. “I have never heard of ‘El Tigre’ until now. But are you certain there was not just the tiniest bit of embellishment involved?”

“The story of Gideon Templar needs no embellishment, Mrs. Blanchard,” Solomon replied. “Everything I related was factual, and in truth only a small part of what happened in his life.”

“Even the part about his spirit still wandering the Big Bend?” she asked.

“The Mexicans across the river still sing their canciones de frontera norte about him, Mrs. Blanchard. They admonish their children to be good, or El Tigre will come and get them in the night. He was the last of the truly hard men, ma’am.”

Later, much later that evening, Kate was awakened from her sleep with a fitful start. Though the bedroom had been relatively cool, her nightclothes were dampened with her own sweat. Lying there, it took some time to come back to the here and now from where here unconscious mind had been. As cognizance and reality returned, Kate realized she had been dreaming; one of those disjointed, confusing dreams that nevertheless seems so real.

In it, she was at the original house doing some daily chores, as if preparing for company. There was nothing particularly disturbing or unusual about that in itself, she had done much the same when living there or just tidying the old place up.

But this time there was something different, something disturbing that became more evident as the dream continued on. In the artistry of her mind, the setting seemed to have shifted back to many years ago. The surrounding furnishings dated themselves as did the clothing she wore. Kate recalled glancing out the front window and having the sensation that something was missing from the scene. Then she realized what it was.

In her dream she rushed to the window, moving the curtains aside and looked out. The new house was not there, just a rock and cactus studded open flat. Off to the southeast, about a quarter of a mile away, sat a grouping of rock pens with walls some six feet high.

There was something else too; or rather, someone. It was a lone rider on a buckskin horse moving slowly toward her. He was dressed in the manner of a man from the early Twentieth Century, carrying a long-barreled lever action rifle in his right hand, muzzle high with the stock nestled between the saddle pommel and his leg. Kate could not see the rider’s face, his large brimmed felt hat was pulled down low, shadowing his features.

The man’s manner appeared alert and yet casual in nature, as if he was riding into a place he had come to many times before. He also seemed to know that she was watching him, in fact it was as if he was expecting her to be at that particular window.

And though Kate Blanchard had never seen the rider before, she knew exactly who he was…

Ben H. English is an eighth-generation Texan who grew up in the Big Bend. At seventeen he joined the Marines, ultimately becoming a chief scout-sniper as well as a platoon sergeant. Later he worked counterintelligence and traveled to over thirty countries.

At Angelo State University he graduated Magna Cum Laude along with other honors. Afterwards Ben had a career in the Texas Highway Patrol, holding several instructor billets involving firearms, driving, and defensive tactics.

His intimate knowledge of what he writes about lends credence and authenticity to his work. Ben knows how it feels to get hit and hit back, or being thirsty, cold, wet, hungry, alone, or exhausted beyond imagination. Finally, he knows of not only being the hunter but also the hunted.

Ben and his wife have two sons who both graduated from Annapolis. He still likes nothing better than grabbing a pack and some canteens and heading out to where few others venture.

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