It was a warm, brisk Saturday afternoon, and Jack and I couldn’t wait to get to the river. Crisp, dry auburn leaves were settling to the ground like fairies relishing their last ballet before reaching the forest floor. We knew they would soon be buried under mounds of snow, obscuring the path to the forest. The wind snapped at our faces as we sprinted over rolling hills that made their way into the lush forest. We ran along the path, kicking aside piles of leaves which had formed a quilt of a million pieces for us. Jack suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, and I stumbled, falling onto the path. “What is it, buddy?” I asked him, as I picked myself up and brushed the crumbled leaves off my jeans. He pointed to a glorious river as long as five blue whales linked tail to tail. It stretched up into the towering snow-capped mountains and emptied into the horizon. From there, it made its way back down the mountains and plummeted steeply over the waterfall. “It’s beautiful,” I said simply. “Yes, beautiful,” Jack echoed in wonder. Bighorn River was an exhilarating place to spend our afternoon. With birds and insects spotting the sky and the river winding its way through the mountains like a gigantic snake slithering in the grass, this place was paradise. I loved the tale of how the river was named. Long ago, many buffaloes tramped over this land and caused it to rumble until springs shot out of the ground, forming the river. My mind traveled to the thundering herds, rushing through the trees, eager to reach drinking water. I could almost feel the vibration of the ground and smell the musky odor of their matted fur. Bighorn River was an exhilarating place to spend our afternoon “Alex, we have to continue so we can spend more time at the river.” Jack’s voice snapped me back into reality. We sprinted off the path to the edge of the forest. Directly in front of us, the river was waiting. We hurtled ourselves onto the bank and sank down into the warm, round pebbles on the shore, giving our feet a well-deserved reward. Our shirts were soggy sheets of cloth, for the autumn sun was flaming on our skin. We cupped handfuls of fresh water and splashed them greedily on our sweaty faces. The crisp, cold water washed away our exhaustion, and we gave sighs of contentment. As trout arched across the water, the afternoon sunlight sank into the river, spreading colors of light which faded into the depth of the water. The majestic river was overflowing with life and painted with beauty. “Jack, how are you feeling about the… the… thing?” I asked uneasily. “Look, my parents are divorced, and I’m sent to live with my relatives. So what?” He glared at me menacingly. “I mean, if you need help to sort things out, I’d be devoted to helping you,” I volunteered. He just looked down and slapped some sand into the tranquil river. Frightened baby fish quickly scattered in fear. As they gathered back together at another cattail, a significant idea popped up in my mind. “Jack, why don’t you try getting your family back together?” I suggested. He looked at me with doubt. “Alex, I know you’re trying to help me and all that, but I just want to leave it the way it is. Really” I knew Jack was lying to cover his pain. “Don’t try to fool me, man,” I replied, tossing a pebble into the rushing river. The rock sank and softly settled to the river floor. Jack looked at me and snorted. Both of us were mute with embarrassment. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of silent moments, I managed to utter, “You OK?” Jack sat staring at the silent water. “I feel bad for you, Jack. We haven’t talked about the divorce a lot, but I had the feeling you could handle it,” I said quietly. Jack couldn’t speak, as if the words were frozen in his throat. “Jack, talk to me! Is something wrong?” I shouted. He just raised his head in sorrow and stared at me. Then he muttered, “I just miss my parents. I wish they’d come back.” Tears trickled from his miserable, green eyes, making a faint path down his cheeks. He gazed up at the burning sun and quickly turned away in dismay. A curious tadpole swam up to my big toe and circled it, wondering what this big peach-colored thing was. As I turned away, a hungry stickleback swam up and devoured it with greed. I spat at it and it hurried away shamefully. I sighed and looked to my right. Jack was wading in the river, heading straight for the steep waterfall. I screamed his name, but he didn’t come back or even turn his head. I jumped in the river and landed on some jagged rocks, wincing with pain. The water, piercing my skin, was as cold as hundreds of freezing daggers. Now I knew how my mom had felt the day she lost me in the mall. I was frantic with fear. I kept my eyes glued on the figure that continued to walk away from me. I started to cry. What was Jack doing? I wondered. He must have lost his mind! The river’s current propelled me closer and closer to Jack. Just a few more steps, I told myself. I proceeded through the water with perseverance, my legs like robotic sticks that kept me moving. I pushed and pushed, and I was suddenly there, right by Jack’s side. He was floating facedown in the water like a dead person. I quickly snatched him out of the racing water and pulled him into an upright position. “Why? Why do you do this to me? Why!” I demanded, weeping helplessly. My tears dropped into the river and were carried off. Jack looked at me and took in his
September/October 2007
A Day at the Ranch
It was a bright and clear Monday morning on the Flying T ranch in Texas. Almost everyone at the ranch was still asleep, except a little Blue Heeler named Patches. She was a small dog with short brown legs and a stumpy tail. Her ears were black and she had a black patch on one eye. The rest of her strong little body was a silver-gray. She was an intelligent and spunky dog who loved to run and play. It was best to stay clear of her if you got on her bad side. Oh, and her specialty was herding the horses or anything else she thought needed herding. * * * She sat very patiently by the door of her pen. Ears pointed and alert, listening for any sound that might signal the people in the house were up. Not very long afterward she heard the rewarding sound of footsteps. Up came the rancher; he was a tall handsome man with gray hair in his early sixties. He opened up the door to have Patches, tail wagging profusely, jump up on him as a good-morning greeting. But enough of that, thought Patches to herself, there are bigger fish to fry this morning! And away she ran on her brown little legs. First she stopped by the barbed-wire fence and barked a friendly and cheery good morning to the neighbor’s dogs. When she got a mind-your-own-business bark in response, Patches trotted away. See if she ever told them hello again. Now to the horse pastures! Patches had taken it upon herself to make sure that the horses would mind every morning. She would stealthily slip under the rust-covered iron gate and nip at all of their heels a bit before Major Ed, the rancher, opened the big gate so he could take care of them. Patches had taken it upon herself to make sure that the horses would mind every morning That always takes all the fight out of them, Patches thought happily as she finished her daily routine. It saves the people a lot of trouble too, she commended herself warmly. Just as she was squeezing under the gate, Joan, the rancher’s pretty wife that would cook tempting tantalizing things for you until the cows came home, said, “She’s going to get the snot kicked out of her some day!” Patches puffed herself up with pride. What a compliment! She didn’t know what it meant, but it must be something good. What a compliment! She was so proud and pleased with herself that she didn’t look where she was going as she made her rounds around the ranch to make sure everything was safe and normal and SPLASH!!!! Water went everywhere as Patches ran at a rather fast pace, into the cold pool. If there was one thing she didn’t like it was being immersed in bitterly cold water. She paddled to the steps panting, thoroughly disgusted with herself and also at the cold, wet water. Well, Patches thought sadly to herself as she drooped her head, I guess pride really does go before the fall, or the jump in my case… She stopped short though because she heard a car coming down the quarter-mile downward-sloping driveway. She ran around to the other side of the house to investigate, coat dripping wet and gleaming in the warm September sunshine. It was an unknown car! How dare it enter her premises! It could be a threat to her people that she had worked so hard to keep safe and happy all these years! Anger burned within her as she shook with fury and rage. She would take care of that car once and for all. Patches leaped into action as the unidentified car progressed slowly down her driveway. She ran at it with an aggressive speed, biting at the large steel-belted tires. The car slowed down almost to a stop. She was winning! Just as she thought this battle was won Major Ed came around and stared darkly at Patches, making her whimper. “Patches! Patches, get over here! What are you doing?” he hollered. “I’m protecting my property and you! What else would I be doing?” she barked in reply. Before she knew what was happening she was dragged, claws dragging in the dirt, toward her pen. “Oh, no! Not that!” she begged. “I’ll do anything, please don’t put me in there!” Despite her pitiful cries of distress she was locked up, as the intruder stepped triumphantly out of his car and strode toward the barn. Patches lay down her short-haired head, sighing a huge dog sigh. She had had quite a day. Why not rest for a bit? She stretched out, soaking in the golden rays that fell across her. Her eyelids drooped, almost closing, covering her brown eyes so that they could barely be seen. The next thing anyone knew the Blue Heeler was fast asleep, but not for long. As soon as Patches woke up, she stretched her legs and neck and started barking. She must get out of that pen which restrained her! She needed desperately to make sure everyone was in tiptop condition. If anything had hurt them, they would have her to deal with! That is if she could escape her pen. Her owner Brad, the rancher’s grownup son, heard her cries of desperation and frustration and came to her rescue. As soon as he had lifted the latch Patches took off running at lightning speed without even stopping to say hello or thank you. First, she ran around the main part of the yard twice to make sure everything was normal. Then, she searched the barn. There was Major Ed and he looked just fine shoveling out the horses’ stalls. Next, she sprinted over and peeked through the short wooden fence posts that surrounded the backyard. The posts were not to keep Patches out, but the housedogs in. They were worthless. All they did was bark when they felt like it and
Loving Will Shakespeare
Loving Will Shakespeare by Carolyn Meyer; Harcourt Children’s Books: New York, 2006; $17 History is a great topic. When you combine that with William Shakespeare, the greatest poet in Europe, you have a story so intriguing it takes only a few days to read, once you get hooked. Loving Will Shakespeare by Carolyn Meyer is a realistic fiction book that takes place during the sixteenth century. It’s a story of Agnes (Anne) growing up and interacting with Will Shakespeare, who’s younger by seven years, who adores her. In her story she struggles to develop relationships with many men before finally appreciating Will. Although Will pops up throughout the story, he doesn’t become a major part of Anne’s life until the end. It’s a down-to-earth story with festivals, many births, and Anne farming the land under her cruel stepmother’s direction. If you take pleasure in fast-paced stories, Loving Will Shakespeare is perfect for you. I truly enjoyed reading this charming book. I often found myself advising Anne in my head because she, like all of us, makes mistakes. She is a mistreated daughter who longs to find love. She is neglected by her father, and she argues viciously with her stepmother, Joan. Although he loves her, Anne’s father is too overwhelmed by his workload to pay much attention to Anne, which I find absolutely awful. Could you imagine if neither of your parents cared in the least about you, but they expected you to care for their children and the farm as well? Throughout the story, her friends and family all find “the right person,” leaving Anne unsatisfied and alone. I can relate to Anne because both of us have to cope with rowdy, younger stepsisters. It is obvious that Anne much prefers her own sister to her cruel stepsister, Joan Little. Joan Little, an ill-tempered little girl, spies on Anne and threatens to tattle on her whenever she makes even a tiny mistake. The author, Carolyn Meyer, proved that some relationships are not destined to be. I find Anne’s struggles to be very emotionally touching. Anne discovers this through the many love disappointments in her life. First comes Kit Swallow, a poor sheepshearer with a sweet disposition. Alas, he flees from authorities hot on his trail. Next Anne encounters Edward Stinchcomb, whom she falls deeply in love with. Hob Ingram appears third. Anne’s stepmother forces Anne to betroth herself to him. She is obliged to accept, but after she realizes the effect this could have on her life, she gladly declines the offer. Each man deserts her. After these numerous love letdowns, Anne couldn’t have been more exhilarated to have Will enter her life. When Anne gives Will a chance, she is thoroughly pleased with the result. They fall deeply in love, but Will pursues his true passion, poetry and playwriting. He ends up making a choice that affects the entire book. I enjoy happily-ever-after endings, so I was rather disappointed by the outcome, but that’s life. Life can be both harsh and rewarding, and both are a part of Anne’s adult life. I was delighted in how true-to-life Loving Will Shakespeare was. It had ups and downs, a perfect balance of glamorous times and melancholy moments. Kelsey May,13Grand Rapids, Michigan
