Karen's Cowboy by Ann M. Martin

Author:Ann M. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2016-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Jon Wayne’s Problem

On Wednesday morning I was itching to ride Mud Puddle again.

“Oohhhh.” Mommy moaned when I asked her to go riding with me. Mommy was eating breakfast standing up at the big kitchen counter. Seth was standing next to her, and so was the younger Mr. Nemchinov and Mrs. Webb. None of them could sit down after their six-hour ride the day before.

“I’d like to go riding too,” said Jenny.

“Oohhh.” Mrs. Webb moaned.

“I will go with you,” said Mr. Webb.

“You can go with me this morning, if you like,” said Jon, gulping down some black coffee. “I have to ride fence a little bit. No problem if you want to tag along.”

“I do! I do!” I shouted, jumping up and down.

“Me too!” said Jenny. So it was decided.

Granny said she would stay home with Andrew and Phil. Andrew wanted to work on his roping skills. I decided I would practice my archery later in the afternoon. But first I had a date with a horse.

Twenty minutes later I was in my La-Z-Boy Western saddle, sitting high on Mud Puddle’s back. Jon was on his big brown-and-white horse. I was behind him, Jenny was behind me, and Mr. Webb was behind her. We were riding slowly on a narrow trail toward what Jon called the east pasture.

“Riding fence means I have to ride alongside some of our fencing and check to see whether it needs repair,” explained Jon. “If I see a broken section, I make a note of it. Then my men and I come back to repair it.”

“It is a lot of work to keep a ranch running,” I said thoughtfully.

“Yes, it is,” said Jon. “I never realized how hard my grandfather and father worked to run this place. Until last year, I was only the ranch foreman — not the boss in charge of everything. This past year has been a lot of hard work.”

“Tell me more about Annie Hancock,” I said as we rode along.

“I never knew her, of course,” said Jon. “Most of what I know about her, my grandfather told me when I was little. Annie was his mother, and he adored her. He used to tell wonderful stories about her.”

“Like what?” I asked. I was not trying to be nosy. I am just curious. I like to know about everything.

“Well, stories about what a terrific shot she was with her bow and arrow,” said Jon. “Stories about how she could hit anything she aimed at — a leaf, a target, a spot on the ground…. What I remember best was the way Granddad always seemed to think she could do anything she set her mind to — shooting arrows, herding cattle, running a dude ranch.”

We rode along peacefully for a few minutes. It was a beautiful Colorado day. Everything felt so different from Connecticut. The birds were different, the trees were different, my saddle was different. I liked being Cow-girl Karen. I wondered if this was how Annie Hancock had felt.

“Yes, Annie could do anything,” Jon said after he had checked a length of fence.

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