Stories of the Wild West Gang by Joy Cowley

Author:Joy Cowley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure stories (Children's / Teenage), Humorous stories, Gecko Press, Gecko Publishing, Gecko Book, Adventure stories (Children's / Teenage), Humorous stories, Stories of the Wild West Gang, Wild West Gang, Children’s book, New Zealand, New Zealand publishing, New Zealand book, New Zealand children’s books, New Zealand children’s book, good book, good books, great book, buy book, buy books, buy books online, buy children’s book, buy children’s books, buy children’s book online, buy children’s books online, book for children, books for children
ISBN: 9781877579707
Publisher: Gecko Press
Published: 2013-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

3.

Auntie Rosie said it was their favorite campsite. All I could see was some grass on a bank above a river and a whole lot of trees behind it. The grass was so long you didn’t know there were cowpats until you trod in them. I put down the box of food I’d been carrying and pulled out some grass to wipe my new white sneakers.

“Wuss, wuss, wuss!” said Royce as though he was calling a cat. I didn’t care. I’d had enough of yuck stuff. Auntie Rosie had made me change my pants but I could still smell Johnny’s vomit on me and I didn’t want cowpat as well. I found a clean, dry place and then sat down to make a good job of wiping my shoes. Green stuff filled the tread on the sole and oozed up each side, thick as mashed spinach.

Miranda and Uncle Leo were putting up the tents nearer the trees. There were three, one big and two little, and Royce had been right about the big one. It did have six holes above the flap for lacing on an awning. The boxes of food and the fold-up table went in the big tent. The sleeping bags went into the others. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Auntie Rosie and Uncle Leo were having one small tent and all the kids’ sleeping bags were going in the other. Brilliant!

“What’s Mickey doing?” bellowed Uncle Leo.

The others answered for me. “He stepped in the Royce word,” grinned Auntie Rosie.

“Being a big wuss,” said Royce.

“Cowpat,” called Johnny, stroking the hen under her wing.

“Poo on shoe,” said Jeannie.

Honey, whirling with her arms outstretched, shouted, “Poo, poo, poo, poo, poo!”

I threw away the handful of grass and stood up. “Where can I wash my hands?”

They all stared at me. Then Uncle Leo said, “Mickey lad, I think you’ll find a wash basin at the bottom of that bank.”

He meant the river. I had forgotten about that. I heard Royce laughing as I climbed down the bank, my face as red as a boiled tomato. It was all right for them. They’d been here heaps of times before.

I squatted at the edge of the river where the water ran thin as paper over small gray stones. I expected it to be warm, but it was icy cold on my hands. Further out there were white ripples where it broke over bigger stones and on the other side there was a pool so deep I couldn’t see the bottom. I went on scrubbing at my fingers, wondering what Mom and Dad were doing.

A small shower of dirt came down the bank and next thing I saw bare feet, Miranda’s, on the stones beside me. I didn’t look up. If she was going to tell me I was dumb or if she was going to feel sorry for me, I didn’t want to see her face.

She squatted down beside me and was silent for a while. Then she pointed. “See that pool?”

I nodded again.

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