Ranch Hands by Bonnie Bryant

Author:Bonnie Bryant [Bryant, Bonnie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82511-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2013-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

“HENRY THE SECOND built the round tower, you know,” Mrs. Atwood said.

“Imagine that!” Lisa uttered. She was trying to sound excited, but she wasn’t feeling it. Her father didn’t seem particularly excited either and wasn’t even making a pretense of it. He just kept looking around at the shops in the town of Windsor.

“Isn’t there one of those pubs around here some place?” he asked.

“Later, dear, later. It’s only ten-thirty now and we have so much to see before lunch.”

“Everything except the castle,” Lisa said. They’d taken the train from London to Windsor, about an hour’s ride, expecting to be able to have the tour of the castle, but it turned out that the queen was in residence now, so they couldn’t visit it. Mr. Atwood had remarked to Mrs. Atwood that perhaps she should have checked where the queen was staying before they got onto a train. Mrs. Atwood had said it didn’t matter at all that they couldn’t get into the castle proper. The town of Windsor itself was positively filled with memorable sights.

“Perhaps we’ll see the queen driving through the town in a limousine,” Mrs. Atwood said cheerfully.

Mr. Atwood looked at her. “Think that means she might spot us as a nice group of American tourists and invite us in for a cup of tea?” he asked sarcastically.

Mrs. Atwood stopped talking for a few minutes.

Lisa sighed. This was frustrating. There were parts of the trip she was enjoying, but at times like these, she couldn’t keep her mind on the quaint cobble-stoned streets of the town. All she could think of was the wide-open spaces of Wyoming and how much she wished she were there with her friends, riding in the Rockies, rounding up cattle, eating stew by a camp fire, singing cowboy songs, enjoying the fresh mountain air, and smelling the wildflowers and the warm, wonderful scent of horses.

“And if we go along this street for a way, we’ll find the park,” Mrs. Atwood said. “Park” seemed about as close as she was going to get to wide-open spaces. She followed her mother dutifully.

One thing she’d discovered about the British people was that they had nice parks. London had many really pretty ones, all of which were planted with colorful flower beds. It seemed that in the United States, flower beds in parks had to be protected with concertina wire. Here in England everybody just enjoyed the flowers without picking them. It was terribly civilized, and Lisa did like that. The park in Windsor was no exception. It had gently sloping hills with well-tended grass. Here and there were little flower beds, neatly planted for maximum enjoyment by people strolling by.

Mrs. Atwood was all for walking along every single inch of footpath in the park. Mr. Atwood was, by then, totally preoccupied with his empty stomach and decided to sit down and think about it. Lisa and her mother sat down with him.

While her parents discussed the choices they had for eating lunch, Lisa daydreamed about Wyoming.

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