they were from Willow Creek. She’d been on overnight trail rides back east, but they never felt like these cattle drives did. She looked up and started counting stars.
One, two, three … She listened to the cattle lowing in the near distance. She felt surrounded by huge, expansive warmth. The earth beneath her, the stars like a big high blanket, the hum of the hundreds of cattle in her ears. Nine, ten, eleven … By the time she’d counted the nineteenth star, she was fast asleep.
Carole drifted off too, leaving Stevie the only Saddle Clubber awake. Stevie leaned up on her elbow and watched the grown-ups get settled on the other side of the dimming campfire. She smiled and shook her head. It had been up and down, she thought, but her parents were starting to get the hang of things. Tomorrow was the drive—that might be a different story.
Stevie lay back down and snuggled into her sleeping bag. Just as she drifted off, she thought she heard a callof some sort in the distance. Was it a coyote? Or just the wind? She couldn’t keep herself awake long enough to wait for it to come again. She didn’t hear the high, mournful sound when it pierced the silence again a moment later, nor did she hear the screeching answer of an eagle in the black distance.
L ISA OPENED ONE eye. The sky was a dark, rich blue, like cobalt-colored glass. An owl hooted softly in the distance. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Now she remembered she was sleeping outside, in the middle of Colorado, under a big sky. The cattle drive was today.
She sat up and looked around. She could see Walter and a few of the parents already getting up and out of their sleeping bags and heading down to the creek. She quickly changed clothes in the warmth of her sleeping bag and got up. “Wake up, you cowgirls!” she said, nudgingher sleeping friends before heading down to the creek to wash up.
By the time the sun edged its way up from behind the acres of cows, the whole group was up.
Mr. Atwood eyed his breakfast—beef jerky—skeptically. Finally, he bit off a hunk and chewed. After he swallowed it, he cleared his throat and said to his wife, “Mmm. Honey, you should serve this stuff at home!”
Mrs. Atwood worked quietly on her own portion. “Kind of spicy,” she said between chews.
Mr. Lake laughed. “I thought you ate this junk only if you didn’t have a fire nearby. Sort of like K rations.”
Walter looked up from the coffee he was pouring out. “No point in bacon and eggs today—too much to do before the drive. Takes too big a fire.”
“Bigger than what you need for coffee?” Mr. Atwood said.
“Oh, come on, Richard,” said his wife. “You won’t starve.”
“Well, this is supposed to hold us—”
“Sure is tasty,” Colonel Hanson said. “First you eat ’em, then you drive a herd of ’em. Mmm.”
When Carole heard that, she practically choked onhers. “I’ll never look at a cow the same way again,” she said to Kate.
“Well, wranglers,” said Walter, “it’s an authentic wrangler’s breakfast.”
“I’ll take a little more coffee to wash down all that local flavor,” said Mr. Lake, holding his mug out to Walter.
Lisa glanced away from the grown-ups. Their teasing was getting more than a little annoying. She heard Carole talking to her father about the topic on the way over to wash out coffee mugs, and she was glad Carole had picked up on their snooty tone too.
“What’s the deal, Dad?” said Carole. “Does it have to be bacon and eggs for you too, every morning?”
“No, honey. But don’t you think beef jerky is too authentic?”
Carole squinted at her father. “What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t you think they’re humoring us dudes a little bit?”
“Well, beef jerky is quick, light to carry along, and convenient. And besides, what’s wrong with authenticity anyway? I mean, Dad, we couldn’t very well bring a cappuccino machine and muffin tins.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Just
One, two, three … She listened to the cattle lowing in the near distance. She felt surrounded by huge, expansive warmth. The earth beneath her, the stars like a big high blanket, the hum of the hundreds of cattle in her ears. Nine, ten, eleven … By the time she’d counted the nineteenth star, she was fast asleep.
Carole drifted off too, leaving Stevie the only Saddle Clubber awake. Stevie leaned up on her elbow and watched the grown-ups get settled on the other side of the dimming campfire. She smiled and shook her head. It had been up and down, she thought, but her parents were starting to get the hang of things. Tomorrow was the drive—that might be a different story.
Stevie lay back down and snuggled into her sleeping bag. Just as she drifted off, she thought she heard a callof some sort in the distance. Was it a coyote? Or just the wind? She couldn’t keep herself awake long enough to wait for it to come again. She didn’t hear the high, mournful sound when it pierced the silence again a moment later, nor did she hear the screeching answer of an eagle in the black distance.
L ISA OPENED ONE eye. The sky was a dark, rich blue, like cobalt-colored glass. An owl hooted softly in the distance. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Now she remembered she was sleeping outside, in the middle of Colorado, under a big sky. The cattle drive was today.
She sat up and looked around. She could see Walter and a few of the parents already getting up and out of their sleeping bags and heading down to the creek. She quickly changed clothes in the warmth of her sleeping bag and got up. “Wake up, you cowgirls!” she said, nudgingher sleeping friends before heading down to the creek to wash up.
By the time the sun edged its way up from behind the acres of cows, the whole group was up.
Mr. Atwood eyed his breakfast—beef jerky—skeptically. Finally, he bit off a hunk and chewed. After he swallowed it, he cleared his throat and said to his wife, “Mmm. Honey, you should serve this stuff at home!”
Mrs. Atwood worked quietly on her own portion. “Kind of spicy,” she said between chews.
Mr. Lake laughed. “I thought you ate this junk only if you didn’t have a fire nearby. Sort of like K rations.”
Walter looked up from the coffee he was pouring out. “No point in bacon and eggs today—too much to do before the drive. Takes too big a fire.”
“Bigger than what you need for coffee?” Mr. Atwood said.
“Oh, come on, Richard,” said his wife. “You won’t starve.”
“Well, this is supposed to hold us—”
“Sure is tasty,” Colonel Hanson said. “First you eat ’em, then you drive a herd of ’em. Mmm.”
When Carole heard that, she practically choked onhers. “I’ll never look at a cow the same way again,” she said to Kate.
“Well, wranglers,” said Walter, “it’s an authentic wrangler’s breakfast.”
“I’ll take a little more coffee to wash down all that local flavor,” said Mr. Lake, holding his mug out to Walter.
Lisa glanced away from the grown-ups. Their teasing was getting more than a little annoying. She heard Carole talking to her father about the topic on the way over to wash out coffee mugs, and she was glad Carole had picked up on their snooty tone too.
“What’s the deal, Dad?” said Carole. “Does it have to be bacon and eggs for you too, every morning?”
“No, honey. But don’t you think beef jerky is too authentic?”
Carole squinted at her father. “What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t you think they’re humoring us dudes a little bit?”
“Well, beef jerky is quick, light to carry along, and convenient. And besides, what’s wrong with authenticity anyway? I mean, Dad, we couldn’t very well bring a cappuccino machine and muffin tins.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Just
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