Sam's Ride Read online

  Sam's Ride

  BECKY CITRA

  Illustrated by AMY MEISSNER

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  Text copyright © 2009 Becky Citra

  Illustrations copyright © 2009 Amy Meissner

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication 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 now known or to be

  invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Citra, Becky

  Sam’s ride / Becky Citra ; illustrated by Amy Meissner.

  (Orca echoes)

  ISBN 978-1-55469-160-9

  I. Meissner, Amy II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes

  PS8555.I87S24 2009 jC813’.54 C2009-904581-8

  First published in the United States, 2009

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2009932874

  Summary: Sam overcomes his fear of horseback riding and comes to appreciate

  both his grandfather and life on the ranch.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs

  provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book

  Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the

  Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council

  and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Typesetting by Teresa Bubela

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Amy Meissner

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 5626 STN.B PO BOX 468

  VICTORIA, BC CANADA CUSTER, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  12 11 10 09 • 4 3 2 1

  To my brother John,

  for his great enthusiasm about my books.

  Contents

  Chapter One: Sam's Surprise

  Chapter Two: A Real Cowboy

  Chapter Three: Show Him Who's Boss!

  Chapter Four: Muscles of Steel

  Chapter Five: An Unexpected Bath

  Chapter Six: Riding The Range

  Chapter Seven: A Long Walk

  Chapter Eight: Storm!

  Chapter Nine: A Fast Ride

  Chapter Ten: Sam's Promise

  CHAPTER ONE

  SAM 'S SURPRISE

  “Please…please, Mom, don’t make me stay here,” said Sam.

  Sam and Mom were sitting at the table in Grandpa’s kitchen. Grandpa had made grilled-cheese sandwiches on the wood cookstove for supper, but Sam couldn’t eat a bite.

  Mom glanced at the kitchen door. “Quiet. Grandpa will hear you. It’s only for two weeks. Two weeks out of the whole summer won’t hurt you.”

  Sam slumped in his chair. Two weeks felt like forever. “I don’t see why he wants to get to know me now. He never did before.”

  “Grandpa isn’t good with little kids,” said Mom. “But now that you’re big, the two of you will get along.”

  Big? Sam was the shortest boy in his grade three class. And the skinniest. “You’re no bigger than a tadpole,” Grandpa had said when Sam and Mom had arrived at the ranch that afternoon.

  “Just follow Grandpa’s rules,” said Mom, “and you’ll be okay.”

  Sam sighed. Grandpa had explained his rules when he gave Mom and Sam a tour of the ranch.

  “Stay away from the machinery,” he had said gruffly. “Don’t swim in the creek by yourself. Don’t feed my dog table scraps. Apart from that, you can do what you want.”

  What Sam wanted to do was go home.

  Grandpa came into the kitchen with an armful of wood for the stove. He was the tallest man Sam had ever seen. He wore blue jeans, dusty cowboy boots and a belt with a huge silver buckle. “Have you got time to see Sam’s surprise before you go, Mary?” he said.

  Sam’s throat felt dry. Mom was leaving right after supper to drive back to the city. She had to be at the airport the next morning to catch a plane to a science conference.

  Mom stood up. “A surprise for Sam,” she said brightly. “Of course I have time.”

  “I thought Sam needed a way to get around the ranch,” said Grandpa. He stuck a big black cowboy hat on his head. “Come on outside.”

  It’s going to be a bike, thought Sam. Mom must have told Grandpa he had been begging for a new one. Sam perked up as he followed Grandpa and Mom behind the barn.

  He gazed around for the bike. A few chickens scratched in the dirt. Grandpa’s border collie, Tip, pounced on a mouse in the grass. An enormous white horse in the middle of the corral swished his tail.

  No bike.

  The horse stretched out his neck and drew back his lips. He had huge yellow teeth.

  “His name is Lightning Bolt,” said Grandpa. “But I call him Bolt for short.”

  Bolt was his surprise? Sam’s heart plummeted to his feet. Mom said weakly, “He’s awfully big.”

  “Fast too,” said Grandpa. “He’s old, but he’s still got lots of get-up-and-go.”

  “Maybe a pony would have been better,” said Mom.

  “Nonsense,” said Grandpa. “I hate ponies. Jimmy rode a proper horse from the time he was four years old.”

  Grandpa was talking about Sam’s dad. He died when Sam was a baby. Mom had explained to Sam that Dad had grown up on Grandpa’s ranch.

  Grandpa chuckled. “Jimmy used to stand on the porch to get on his horse.”

  Sam shivered. You would need a ladder to get on this horse.

  This was the worst surprise he had ever had in his life.

  Mom looked at her watch. She said, “I have to go now.”

  She squeezed Sam tight, but Sam refused to hug her back. He stared at the ground until her car disappeared down the road.

  He was alone now—alone with Grandpa and Bolt.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A REAL COWBOY

  The next morning, Sam lay on the bed in the little bedroom that had belonged to Dad. He had woken in the middle of the night because he missed Mom. He felt tired and empty inside. He wished he could have Tip with him, but Grandpa said Tip was a working dog. When Tip was in the house, he had to stay on his blanket in the kitchen.

  Horse posters decorated the bedroom walls. Above the dresser hung a framed photograph of a boy standing beside a big brown horse. The boy wore a black cowboy hat like Grandpa’s and held a fancy blue ribbon.

  The boy must be Dad, thought Sam. He studied the photograph for a long time. Dad must have liked horses a lot.

  Sam rolled over on his side. Grandpa had made pancakes for breakfast. Sam had eaten one, but Grandpa had devoured a huge stack with puddles of maple syrup. Then Grandpa and Tip had gone outside, and Sam had gone back to his room.

  Grandpa had said as long as he followed the rules, he could do whatever he wanted. If he couldn’t go home, Sam decided that what he wanted to do was read. He would read for two whole weeks, and then Mom would be back.

  Sam had just dug a book out of his duffel bag when Grandpa appeared in the doorway. He was holding a pair of worn cowboy boots and a black cowboy hat. “These boots belonged to your dad when he was about your size. He called them his lucky boots. And this was his hat. Try them on, and then we’ll saddle up that bronc of yours.”

  Sam felt sick. He had been hoping Grandpa had forgotten all about Bolt. While Grandpa watched, he tugged the boots over his socks. They fit perfectly. He put the hat on. It slid down over his eyes and made him feel mysterious.

  “You look like a real cowboy,” said Grandpa. “I’ll meet you out at the corral in fiv
e minutes.”

  Sam’s legs felt like jelly as he trudged out to the corral. Bolt looked even more enormous than he had yesterday. Grandpa had tied him to the fence inside the corral. A wooden crate and a bucket full of brushes sat on the ground. A saddle and a folded blanket rested on the top rail of the fence.

  Sam spotted a tall black horse grazing outside the corral. “Is that your horse?” he said. “Are you going to ride too?”

  “That’s Major,” said Grandpa. “He’s having the day off today.”

  Bolt pawed the ground. Sam’s heart pounded. Maybe he should have brought a carrot or something as a peace offering.

  Grandpa showed Sam how to brush the dirt off Bolt. Sam took as long as he could. Grandpa turned the wooden crate upside down, and Sam stood on it so he could reach the middle of Bolt’s back.

  He left Bolt’s back legs until the end.

  Whoosh! Bolt swished his long tail in Sam’s face. “Hey!” cried Sam. He ducked to get out of the way.

  “This was your dad’s saddle,” said Grandpa. He laid the blanket on Bolt’s back. He heaved the saddle up and placed it on top of the blanket. The seat was worn and the wooden stirrups were scuffed. He tightened a wide leather strap under Bolt’s belly. “Now the bridle. It’s a bit tricky until you get used to it. You watch what I do.”

  The bridle looked like a hopeless tangle of straps and buckles, but in no time Grandpa had it over Bolt’s head with the bit clamped in the horse’s mouth.

  “I’ll hoist you up today, but after that you’re going to have to figure out your own way to get on,” said Grandpa. He swung Sam into the saddle.

  Sam held his breath. The ground looked a long, long way down.

  “You can’t just sit there all day,” Grandpa said finally.

  Sam slowly let out his breath. What was he supposed to do?

  Bolt turned his head and stared at Sam.

  “Giddyup,” said Sam in a tiny voice.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS !

  “Squeeze with your legs,” suggested Grandpa.

  Sam gently squeezed the horse’s sides. Nothing happened. He squeezed a little harder. With a lurch, Bolt started to walk around the inside of the corral.

  Sam yelped and grabbed the saddle horn. Bolt had a bouncy walk. Sam bobbed up and down.

  “Sit up straight,” said Grandpa. “Look where you’re going.”

  He was going in a big circle. Sam realized with relief that he didn’t have to steer. Bolt just followed the fence. All Sam had to do was hold on tight and make sure he didn’t fall off.

  His shoulders relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all. He glanced down and admired his boots. Real cowboy boots. Dad’s lucky boots.

  Bolt came to a sudden stop. Sam flopped forward. The horse lowered his head to a clump of grass in the corner of the corral and grabbed a mouthful.

  “Don’t let him eat!” roared Grandpa.

  Sam tugged on the reins. He couldn’t budge Bolt’s head. Bolt snatched another mouthful of grass.

  “Pull up his head!” said Grandpa.

  Sam yanked harder on the reins. “I…can’t,” he puffed. His face felt hot.

  Grandpa snorted. He walked over and slapped Bolt on the rump. Bolt picked up his head and ambled off, grass hanging from his mouth.

  “You have to show him you’re the boss,” said Grandpa.

  “Right,” muttered Sam.

  Round the corral they went. Sam tried to sit up straight. He tried to look where they were going. He eyed the clump of grass in the corner. The reins strained in his hands as Bolt eyed it too.

  Show him you’re the boss, thought Sam. He gave Bolt a hard kick and said, “No!”

  Bolt burst into a trot. Sam’s heart jumped into his throat.

  Up and down, up and down, he bounced in the saddle. His feet flew out of the stirrups. The fence and the barn and Grandpa flashed by.

  “Whoa!” yelled Sam. “Whoa!”

  Grandpa stepped in front of Bolt. He grabbed the reins and pulled Bolt to a stop.

  Sam took a huge breath. “I’m getting off!” he said.

  He slid off the horse. It was a long way to the ground. His legs wobbled. He thought Grandpa would be disgusted with him.

  But Grandpa looked pleased.

  “Not bad for your first time,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll head out and ride the range.”

  “Ride the range” was cowboy talk. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. He had a sickening picture in his head of galloping wildly across the fields.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MUSCLES OF STEEL

  “We need to bring some hay up to the barn for Major and Bolt,” said Grandpa. “We’ll take the pickup truck.”

  “Can I ride in the back?” said Sam. He had never ridden in the back of a pickup before.

  Grandpa lowered the tailgate, and Sam scrambled in. Tip jumped up beside him. Sam sat down, leaned against the side of the truck and stuck his legs out straight.

  Grandpa drove along a bumpy road. The ride was over way too soon. Sam climbed out and gazed around. Golden bales of hay were stacked up in neat rows under a high metal roof.

  With both hands, Grandpa grabbed the orange twine wrapped around a bale. He slung the bale into the back of the truck. Sam watched as Grandpa tossed in four more bales.

  It looked easy.

  Sam wrapped his fingers around the twine on a bale. He tried to sling the bale the way Grandpa did. He couldn’t make it budge…not even a tiny bit.

  Whew, thought Sam, Grandpa must have muscles of steel. He pulled harder.

  Grandpa had stopped lifting bales and was watching him. Sam let his arms drop to his sides. His face felt hot.

  Grandpa reached for another bale. But then he stopped, straightened up and rubbed the middle of his back. “These bales are getting heavier every time I come out here,” he said. “Maybe you could give me a hand with this last one, Sam.”

  Sam grabbed one end of the bale and Grandpa grabbed the other. Together they heaved it into the truck.

  Sam climbed back in. He perched on top of a hay bale. All around him was the sweet smell of hay. Tip put his front legs up on the bale and licked Sam’s hand.

  Sam leaned his head back and gazed up at the clear blue sky.

  Bump, bump, bump bounced the truck.

  Sam could hear Grandpa singing through the open window. For a few seconds, he thought it might be fun to be a cowboy.

  Then he remembered Bolt.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AN UNEXPECTED BATH

  “Do we have to ride the range today?” said Sam.

  He was sitting on top of Bolt. Grandpa was sitting on Major.

  Grandpa gave Sam a long look. “Not right away,” he said. “We’re going to my neighbor’s house, Doctor McKinnon. She’s been my neighbor for forty years. She was your dad’s doctor when he was growing up. You’ll like her.”

  Grandpa had put the saddle and bridle on Bolt while Sam watched. Then Grandpa had taken them off and made Sam try to put them back on. It had taken Sam a lot of tries, but finally he got it right. Then Sam stood on the wooden crate and climbed onto the horse by himself.

  He took a deep breath. He was careful to keep his legs still so he wouldn’t make Bolt trot again.

  “I always go to see Sally McKinnon on Tuesdays,” explained Grandpa. He led the way through an open gate into a wide field of rippling grass. “Tuesday is chocolate-chip-cookie day. Sally bakes me a batch of cookies, and I do odd jobs for her in return.”

  “I love chocolate-chip cookies!” said Sam.

  The horses walked across the field, side by side. Tip ran along behind. The tall grass was almost up to Sam’s knees. A small brown bird flitted ahead of them, ducking in and out of the grass. A bee hummed.

  Grandpa didn’t seem to be in a hurry. When they had crossed the field and gone through another open gate, he stopped his horse to show Sam a fox’s den. Then he pointed out a gopher sitting in the sun beside a
hole in the ground. Tip barked, and the gopher whistled in alarm and disappeared inside the hole.

  They rode down a long grassy slope and then along a trail through the forest.

  Sam heard the sound of running water. They came out of the trees and stopped in front of a sparkling creek with grassy banks.

  “Water’s risen a lot since last week,” said Grandpa. “All the rain we had.” He clucked at his horse. “Come on, Major.”

  Sam stared in disbelief. They were going to ride across the creek? Grandpa must be crazy. “What about Tip?” he said desperately.

  “He loves the water,” said Grandpa.

  Grandpa rode Major into the creek. Bolt splashed in after them. Sam clung to the saddle horn. The water swirled below his boots. Tip swam past, scrambled out on the opposite bank and gave himself a huge shake.

  Midway across the creek, Bolt pulled hard on the reins and lowered his head for a drink. Sam’s chest tightened. He thought Grandpa was going to yell at him to stop Bolt. But Grandpa let Major have a drink too. Then Major stepped out of the creek onto the bank.

  Bolt lifted his head. “Go,” muttered Sam. He didn’t like being in the creek by himself.

  Bolt stayed where he was. He pawed at the water with his front foot. The spray showered Sam’s face.

  “Stop!” cried Sam.

  Bolt pawed faster and faster. Water splashed everywhere.

  Grandpa swung around in his saddle. “That darn horse is going down!” he shouted. “Kick him, Sam!”

  Sam remembered what had happened the last time he had kicked Bolt. Sam froze.

  Then he felt Bolt’s body slowly sink into the water.

  Down, down, down.

  Icy water rose up the horse’s sides. It gushed into Sam’s boots. It soaked his jeans.

  “Help!” yelled Sam.

  Bolt stood up slowly. Water streamed out of Sam’s boots. Bolt waded across to the bank. He gave himself a huge shake, just like Tip.

  “Hey!” cried Sam. His insides felt scrambled. “What are you doing?”