by Gary Paulsen
FAMILY FEUD
Bobbie chewed the inside of her lip. “If you’re coming with me, you better get ready. I’m leaving in a half hour. I already fed your horse. He’s the strawberry roan in the pen. Saddles are in the tack shed.”
Bobbie moved past her cousin and grabbed a tarp off a peg on the wall. She took it outside and wrapped it in her bedroll.
In a few minutes Alex returned, leading the roan. Bobbie frowned. The horse’s back was still bare. “I told you the saddles are in the tack shed—over there.”
“All I could find were Western saddles. I’m used to riding English.”
“You mean those itty-bitty things with hardly any leather on ’em and no saddle horn?”
Alex nodded.
“Look, Al, we’re not going on an Easter egg hunt. We’re looking for stray cattle. Some of them are mean and all of them are wild. You’ll be spending all day in the saddle. Maybe you should tell Grandpa you want to stay here until I get back. It’ll only be a week.”
“You wish.” Alex turned and led the roan toward the tack shed again. “Don’t worry about me, hotshot. If you can handle it, so can I.”
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SHILOH, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
MISSING MAY, Cynthia Rylant
THE SECRET FUNERAL OF SLIM JIM THE SNAKE, Elvira Woodruff
AWFULLY SHORT FOR THE FOURTH GRADE, Elvira Woodruff
THE SUMMER I SHRANK MY GRANDMOTHER, Elvira Woodruff
HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell
HOW TO FIGHT A GIRL, Thomas Rockwell
HOW TO GET FABULOUSLY RICH, Thomas Rockwell
BEETLES, LIGHTLY TOASTED, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
YEARLING BOOKS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.
For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,
write to
Dell Readers Service,
P.O. Box 1045,
South Holland, IL 60473.
Published by
Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers
a division of
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
Copyright © 1995 by Gary Paulsen
All rights reserved. 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 and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The trademarks Yearling® and Dell® are registered in the U.S.
Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
eISBN: 978-0-307-80389-4
Interior illustration by Michael David Biegel
v3.1
Dear Readers:
Real adventure is many things—it’s danger and daring and sometimes even a struggle for life or death. From competing in the Iditarod dogsled race across Alaska to sailing the Pacific Ocean, I’ve experienced some of this adventure myself. I try to capture this spirit in my stories, and each time I sit down to write, that challenge is a bit of an adventure in itself.
You’re all a part of this adventure as well. Over the years I’ve had the privilege of talking with many of you in schools, and this book is the result of hearing firsthand what you want to read about most—power-packed action and excitement.
You asked for it—so hang on tight while we jump into another thrilling story in my World of Adventure.
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
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 1
Bobbie Walker slapped her worn-out cowboy hat against the leg of her faded jeans. It caused a small cloud of dust but she didn’t notice. Something else had her attention. Her grandpa’s old white Ford pickup was rumbling up the road toward the Rocking W Ranch.
The day she had dreaded was finally here. Bobbie’s cousin from Los Angeles was coming to the ranch to visit for a few weeks. Grandpa had left early this morning to go to the airport in Winston—nearly seventy-five miles away.
Bobbie had refused to go along. She wanted it well understood from the start that bringing Alex out here wasn’t her idea. The last thing they needed right now was a city greenhorn getting in the way of the annual wild cow roundup.
The old truck stopped in front of the house. Bobbie pulled her hat down low and moved away from the corrals. She walked to the bed of the pickup and lifted out her cousin’s expensive leather suitcase.
The passenger door opened. A tall, slender girl with long brown hair, the same color as Bobbie’s, stepped out. Her hair was parted on the side and she moved it off her face with her hand.
Bobbie looked her up and down. She wasn’t impressed and it showed. The girl was wearing tight black shorts and a black T-shirt that said PRODUCT OF THE CITY. Bobbie winced when she noticed her cousin’s feet.
Sandals.
One side of Bobbie’s mouth went up. It always twitched like that when she didn’t like something. She barely nodded at the girl and started for the house.
“Bobbie.”
It was Grandpa. His voice held a note of displeasure. “Yes, sir?”
The tips of his thumb and forefinger smoothed down his gray handlebar mustache. “I want you to say hello to your cousin Alex.”
Bobbie turned. Alex gave her a bored look under nearly closed eyelids. Bobbie shifted the suitcase and halfheartedly stuck out her hand.
Alex folded her arms in front of her. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”
Bobbie put her hand down.
“Gramps tells me there’s a lot to do out here in the sticks.” Alex cocked her head. “What do you do for fun, cousin, wait till Saturday night and count the flies on manure piles?”
“I’m sure Grandpa will find plenty to keep you busy.”
“He told me you were going to show me around.”
Bobbie pushed her hat back. “I really hate to disappoint you, Al, but I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone for more than a week chasing stray cattle in the brush country.”
“The name is Alex.”
“Like I said, Alex, every year, after we gather in the flats, we go up in the hills to look for wild cows.”
“Oh gee,” Alex mocked, “and I was really looking forward to getting to know you better—cousin.”
Bobbie held the suitcase out in front of her and let it drop at Alex’s feet. “Yeah, it’s too bad there’s not going to be time for that.”
CHAPTER 2
The next morning Bobbie was up early. Grandpa was already downstairs making breakfast. She took the stairs two at a time and burst into the kitchen.
“It won’t work, Grandpa. She’s so green … you know how it is up there. She won’t last a day.”
“I told her she could go.”
Bobbie could hear the final edge in her grandpa’s voice. But she couldn’t help trying one more time.
“What if she can’t ride?”
“She rides. She’s been to one of those equestrian schools.”
Bobbie knew it was useless. She sighed and headed for the barn. When her grandpa made a decision, that was it. She would just have to get used to the idea of baby-sitting her cousin for the next week. She threw a feed can across the barn and it crashed into the wall above the door.
Alex stepped inside the barn. This morning she was wearing a denim Western shirt over a red T-shirt, a pair of stiff new jeans, and new boots. “Watch your temper there, pard, you nearly hit me.” She moved forward and half turned. “Gramps bought them for me,” she said, gesturing at her clothes. “How do I look?”
The side of Bobbie’s mouth went up but she didn’t say anything.
“Gramps said I should come out and see if you need any help.”
Bobbie chewed the inside of her lip. “If you’re coming with me, you better get ready. I’m leaving in a half hour. I already fed your horse. He’s the strawberry roan in the pen. Saddles are in the tack shed.”
Bobbie moved past her cousin and grabbed a tarp off a peg on the wall. She took it outside and wrapped it in her bedroll.
In a few minutes Alex returned, leading the roan. Bobbie frowned. The horse’s back was still bare. “I told you the saddles are in the tack shed—over there.”
“All I could find were Western saddles. I’m used to riding English.”
“You mean those itty-bitty things with hardly any leather on ’em and no saddle horn?”
Alex nodded.
“Look, Al, we’re not going on an Easter egg hunt. We’re looking for stray cattle. Some of them are mean and all of them are wild. You’ll be spending whole days in the saddle. Maybe you should tell Grandpa you want to stay here until I get back. It’ll only be a week.”
“You wish.” Alex turned and led the roan toward the tack shed again. “Don’t worry about me, hotshot. If you can handle it, so can I.”
Bobbie tightened the cinch on Sonny, the big sorrel gelding that was her favorite roping horse. “Looks like we’re in for it, old boy.” She fastened the saddlebags and headed for the house.
In the yard, she stopped to give Wolf a pat. He really was part wolf. Bobbie had raised him from a pup and he adored her.
She walked into the house. The screen door slammed behind her. “That you, Bobbie?” Her grandpa came in from the kitchen. “You kids about ready?”
“She’s a flake, Grandpa. And besides, she rides English.”
“Give her a chance, Bobbie. Look, if they took you to Los Angeles and turned you loose, you wouldn’t have a clue. How smart you are depends on what part of the world you happen to be standing on at the time.”
The screen door opened. Alex poked her head in. “I’m ready, Wyatt.”
“Wyatt?”
“You know. As in—you make me urpp.” Alex winked at their grandfather.
Bobbie’s face turned red. She thought about dragging Alex outside and settling their feud right then. But one look at Grandpa told her it wouldn’t be a wise move. Instead she said, “I guess we’re ready, then.”
Grandpa followed them out to the horses. Bobbie whistled for Wolf, checked her cinch, and swung into the saddle. “See you in a week, Grandpa …”
She looked over at Alex, who was riding the roan in circles, bobbing up and down in the saddle, English style.
Bobbie sighed. “… if not before.”
CHAPTER 3
The girls rode in silence up a sandy canyon bed for a couple of miles; then Bobbie turned onto a narrow trail to the right. Cattle had climbed the embankment for years and hollowed out a path up the steep canyon wall.
Wolf stayed close. Sometimes they couldn’t see him, but he was always within easy calling range.
The path soon became more rugged. Bobbie ducked under a piñon limb that had grown over the trail. It hit Alex full in the face and dragged her off the back of the horse. She landed in the only mud puddle in the whole trail.
The frightened old roan jumped forward a few steps and then stopped, waiting patiently for Alex to get up.
Bobbie turned in the saddle. “Are you okay?”
Alex had a red welt across her cheek. She glared at her cousin. “You did that on purpose.” Shaking, she slung some of the mud off her hands, wiped the rest on her pants, and grabbed the reins.
A cow was bawling somewhere down the canyon. Without a word Bobbie sank her spurs into Sonny and loped toward the cliff. The horse lunged off the ledge and landed back in the bottom of a sandy gully with Wolf right on his heels.
Bobbie quickly spotted the cow behind a salt cedar. She was a big cow with a two-month-old heifer calf. Bobbie shook out her rope into a good-sized loop, gave it a couple of twirls, aimed, and let go. The rope landed easily around the calf’s neck. Bobbie dallied around the saddlehorn and backed Sonny up a few steps. Then she turned and started up the trail, leading the calf, with the cow following close behind. “Bring ’em up, Wolf.”
Alex was back on the roan, waiting in the middle of the trail. When she saw the cow she smirked and said, “Find one of your long-lost relatives?”
“The only relative I have up here is a mud hen, and she’s fixing to get run over if she’s stupid enough to stay in the middle of the trail.”
Bobbie didn’t wait for Alex to get out of the way. She pushed past, dragging the calf. The roan pinned Alex’s leg against the side of the embankment. The excited cow ran past and kicked backward. She nailed Alex square on the kneecap.
“It’s not too late for you to turn back, Al.” Bobbie smiled sweetly over her shoulder. “Just follow the canyon down and you’ll be fine.”
Alex gritted her teeth and tried not to show how much her knee hurt. “Listen, Bobbie, I’m in. Get it through your thick head, there’s nothing you can do to get rid of me.”
“Why is it so important for you to be up here? You obviously like me about as well as I like you, so what’s the big attraction?”
“Maybe it’s because I know how much it bothers you that I’m here.”
Bobbie shrugged. “It’s your funeral.” She trotted ahead. The cow and calf had to run to keep up, which meant that Alex had to ride in a cloud of choking dust.
A mile and a half later, they topped out in a meadow completely surrounded by a thick wall of trees. Ancient run-down wooden corrals stood in the middle of the grassy pasture.
Bobbie rode her horse into one of the pens, closed the gate, and let the calf go. She stepped off and led Sonny to the water tank. It was bone-dry. She reached down and turned a valve. Clear spring water gushed into the tank.
“If I were you, Al, I’d water my horse. He’s had a long trip.” Bobbie let Sonny have a long cool drink.
Alex slid out of the saddle. She walked a bit stiffly and bowlegged as she led the roan to water. Bobbie couldn’t help smiling.
“What are you laughing at?” Alex snapped.
“How long have you had it?”
“What?”
Bobbie pointed at her and laughed harder. “Arthritis of the rump.”
“I’ve had enough.” Alex let go of her horse and hit Bobbie like a tigress, driving her back and knocking her on her rear. “Now we’ll see if you have problems with your rump.”
Bobbie leapt to her feet. Her lips were tight. She stalked past Alex and as she did reached out and shoved her backward.
Into the water tank.
Alex stood up. Her clothes were sopping wet. She shook the water off, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and climbed out. Bobbie was doubled over, laughing.
Alex was steaming. She swung at Bobbie, clipping her on the jaw. Bobbie tried to grab her arm but missed. Alex punched her again, this time in the face. Blood spurted from Bobbie’s nose.
The fight was on. Wolf ran back and forth barking furiously as the girls rolled on the ground, each one trying to get a better grip on the other, until they wound up underneath the roan. The horse snorted and danced nervously, trying to avoid them. Suddenl
y he jumped sideways and came down hard with his front hooves.
Right on Bobbie’s ankle.
CHAPTER 4
The orange flame of the fire flickered against the dark night. Bobbie dug her spoon into a can of cold pork and beans. She put some on the grass for Wolf.
Alex studied Bobbie’s wrapped ankle in silence. Then she lay back on her bedroll and closed her eyes. “My dad didn’t tell me being a cowboy was so much fun.”
“Your dad?” Bobbie put down the spoon. “I thought he was some kind of bank executive.”
“He is, but he used to work this ranch when he was a kid—along with your dad. That’s the real reason I’m here. He’s always had this big guilt thing about not being around for Gramps when your dad died and he has this stupid idea that somehow I’ll suddenly turn into Annie Oakley and make up for it.”
“He doesn’t need to worry. You’re no Annie Oakley, and me and Grandpa do just fine without anybody’s help.”
“I said it was stupid. Besides, my dad looked into the ranch records. He thinks the Rocking W is about to go under.”
Bobbie stared at the fire in silence, then sighed. “Sometimes it gets awful close. That’s why I come up and get these strays every year. The money they bring always seems to keep us out of hot water. This year, though, I have to admit, things are a little closer than usual.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“What I came up here for.”
“How? That ankle is bruised so bad you can’t even walk. You’re lucky it’s not broken. You wouldn’t even be over here if I hadn’t dragged you.”
Bobbie’s jaw thrust out. She sat up. “You didn’t drag me, you only helped me. I could outwalk you any day of the week.” She stopped, then smiled sheepishly, looking at her ankle. “Although you did a good job wrapping up my foot.”
Alex shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
Bobbie used her pocket knife to open a can of peaches. “So, what’s it like in Los Angeles?”
“It’s great. There’s always something going on.”
“Like what?”
