Andrea Carter's Tales from the Circle C Ranch - Softcover

Susan K Marlow

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0825443792 ISBN 13: 9780825443794

Publisher: Kregel Publications, U.S., 2015

Synopsis

Join Andrea Carter for more adventures in nineteenth-century California! The independent tomboy Andrea Carter and her beloved horse, Taffy, were first introduced in "Andrea Carter and the Long Ride Home" in 2005. Since then, popular author Susan Marlow has penned five more books in the Circle C Adventures series, filled in Andi's early years with the Circle C Beginnings series, and started a chronicle of Andrea's teen years in Circle C Milestones. Published to celebrate the tenth anniversary of this positive role model for girls, "Andrea Carter's Tales from the Circle C Ranch" is a collection of short stories inspired by fan questions that fills in many of the gaps between Circle C Beginnings and Circle C Adventures. Taking place between 1873 and 1880, each story is prefaced by an explanatory note that pinpoints the action of the story in relation to events in the existing Andrea Carter books. Wholesome fun, and with a clear Christian message throughout, "Andrea Carter's Tales from the Circle C Ranch" is a must-read for fans of the series and a fun introduction for those who haven't yet discovered these historical gems.

About this title

About the Author

Susan K. Marlow has an imagination that never stops! Whether she's writing books, teaching writing workshops, or sharing what she's learned as a homeschooling mom, she's always on the lookout for a new story. The author of the Circle C Adventures and the Circle C Beginnings, Susan enjoys relaxing on her fourteen-acre homestead in the great state of Washington.

Excerpt. İ Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Andrea Carter's Tales from the Circle C Ranch

By Susan K. Marlow

Kregel Publications

Copyright İ 2015 Susan K. Marlow
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-8254-4379-4

Contents

Part One: The Early Years, 
1. Britches Are Not for Little Girls, 9, 
2. The Best Gift of All, 16, 
3. Aunt Rebecca and the Hat, 26, 
4. White Christmas, 31, 
Part Two: The In-Between Years, 
5. Prince Loco, Chad's Crazy Horse, 53, 
6. Hurrah for the Fourth of July!, 60, 
7. A Matter of Honor, 72, 
8. Snakes Alive!, 84, 
9. Virginia's Riding Lesson, 96, 
10. Where the Trees Meet the Bay, 115, 
11. Adiós, Jeffrey Sullivan, 130, 

CHAPTER 1

Britches Are Not for Little Girls

September 1873

This story takes place the autumn before Andi's Pony Trouble.

"Little girls do not wear britches."

Mother didn't raise her voice, but she sounded firm. Like always.

I peeked around my ten-year-old sister, Melinda, and looked down the long table. Father sat at the head of the table, sipping a cup of after-supper coffee.

He didn't say anything right away. He put down his coffee cup and scooped up a piping hot forkful of apple pie, fresh from the oven.

"First of the season, Señor Carter," Luisa told him as she cleared away the dirty dishes.

"It's delicious," Father said.

Luisa beamed. "Muchas gracias, señor."

Father was the tallest and strongest man in the whole world. Dressed in his fancy dinner clothes, he was also the most handsome.

Our family always dressed for the evening meal. It was The Rule. Even my two oldest brothers, who were grown up, didn't come to the table in work clothes.

Chad tried to once. He burst into the house with a story about the cattle herd that Mother and Father listened to with interest. Before we knew it, the supper bell was ringing. Father led Mother toward the dining room.

"I assume, Chad, that you will be dining with us this evening?" Mother said over her shoulder.

You never saw a twenty-year-old race so fast upstairs to change!

I didn't like dressing up for dinner ... or for anything else. Play dresses with aprons were good enough for me. Most days I ran out of the house barefoot. I'd be off playing with the ranch hands' children before Mother could catch me.

Right now, I was watching Father eat his pie. Would he answer Mother?

I sighed. The "britches" subject was my own fault, and my new friend Riley's idea. He had just come to live on our ranch with his Uncle Sid, the ranch foreman. Chad told me Riley's mother was sick, and his father was an army captain often away on patrol. Riley would be staying on the ranch until his mother was well.

We took to each other right away.

When I had trouble getting up on his big, black horse, Riley said, "You can't do it in a dress, Andi. Even if you make it, your skirt will get all scrunched up. Your bloomers will get dirty, and your bare legs will show. I bet your mama wouldn't like that."

Riley was right. Mother would not like that at all.

I followed Riley into the room he shared with his Uncle Sid just behind the bunkhouse. He dug around in an orange crate and pulled out a pair of overalls.

"I'm a cowboy now," he said, "so I'm gonna dress like one, in britches and a shirt. You can have my overalls."

I squealed my joy. "Thank you, Riley!"

Overalls were the answer to all my riding problems, if only Mother and Father would agree.

Every day while Melinda was away at school, Father tossed me up on Caesar, his big, bay horse. Father let me go everywhere with him, sitting on his lap in the saddle. He rode out to the herd, gave orders to the cowhands, and taught Chad and Mitch how to run the ranch. Sometimes I asked questions, but most of the time I just watched everything from high up on Caesar's broad back.

The only dark cloud rose when the town ladies showed up on the ranch to visit Mother. They clucked their tongues and said it was not proper for a little girl to ride astride, with her skirts flying and her knees showing.

"It's downright shameful, Elizabeth," Mrs. Peterson told Mother. "You ought to put a stop to it."

Father disagreed. "The child loves to ride, and she's a born horsewoman. Only the livestock, her brothers, and a few old cowhands see Andrea's skirts flying." When the ladies left, he frowned. "I see no reason to pay any attention to busybodies."

"Busybodies are folks who mind everybody's business but their own," Chad said when I asked him what the word meant.

Father and Mother did not pay busybodies any mind ... except for one.

Aunt Rebecca, the busiest busybody of all, nearly fainted when she saw Father and me on Caesar one day during a surprise visit. She scolded Father something fierce, but he just laughed.

"This is a very serious matter, James," Aunt Rebecca said, frowning.

Father stopped laughing. "If it bothers you that much, dear sister, all right." Then he handed me down to Aunt Rebecca and put Caesar away. I didn't go riding again with Father until Aunt Rebecca went home to San Francisco.

Yes, overalls were the answer to all my problems. I was sure of it.

* * *

All those memories were swirling around inside my head while Father ate his pie and the boys talked about dull, grown-up things.

I looked at Justin, my oldest brother. He had been home only a couple of months since graduating from law school. I felt a little funny around him. He'd been away at college for three years. I didn't know him very well. Holidays were too short to get to know somebody, even your own big brother.

Justin saw me looking at him and leaned across the table. "I'll take you riding after supper if you like," he whispered.

I nodded. Then I looked at Father. He was still eating his pie. It was a big piece.

He caught my gaze and winked.

Father's wink made me feel warm and cozy all over. It meant he had everything under control — even a mealtime discussion about the proper dress for little girls on a ranch.

"A pair of overalls is the only practical solution, Elizabeth," Father said. "Andrea's little frocks would stay cleaner that way." He smiled.

I forgot about Justin's offer of an after-supper horseback ride. This was important. I put my fork down and sat perfectly still.

"Jim," Mother said, frowning. "It's unseemly. Little girls do not wear britches ... or overalls."

I ducked my head. Maybe I shouldn't have come to lunch today in Riley's overalls. I should have taken them off and kept them in the orange crate — just Riley's and my secret.

"Who in the world makes these rules?" Father wanted to know. It was not a question he expected an answer to.

I answered anyway. "Aunt Rebecca."

Everyone burst out laughing. I grinned and laughed too, but I didn't know why. It really wasn't funny. Aunt Rebecca thought up all the rules that made me miserable.

Father winked at me again. "If it were only that simple, sweetheart." He turned to Mother. "Skirts and horses do not mix, dear. Did you take one of Melinda's frocks, split the front and back, and sew it up for leggings like I asked?"

Mother nodded.

"It works just dandy, Father," Melinda said. "My split skirt stays where I want it to when I go riding."

Father grunted and looked pleased.

"You could teach the girls to ride sidesaddle," Mother said.

Sidesaddle? What's that? I wondered.

Father frowned, and his eyes flashed blue fire. "My dear, I want all of our children to be safe, not just the boys. Riding sidesaddle is an outlandish, dangerous way for a young lady to ride a horse."

"Who made that rule?" I couldn't help asking. "That ladies have to ride that way?" I still didn't know what "sidesaddle" was.

Nobody got after me for speaking without being spoken to.

"Who knows?" Justin said. "It's not a law. Just one of those things society expects of ladies."

Father frowned. "We are three thousand miles away from the East. I won't let somebody's fool notion of what is or is not proper put my little girls in danger."

"San Francisco is only two hundred miles away," Justin put in.

"Let San Francisco take care of itself," Father said. "This is my ranch and my family. I think we can decide for ourselves how to live on it."

This sounded like good news to me. But I wasn't sure how the overalls came into it. I almost asked, but Father spoke again.

"I won't have a sidesaddle on this spread," he said. "The way Andrea rides, she'd break her neck riding that way." He shook his head. "No."

"All right, Jim," Mother said at last. "Shall I split Andrea's dresses? I might as well do them all. She'll go through them quickly enough."

I knew I was hard on clothes. I would rather have overalls, I pleaded silently. Please, please, please!

"Overalls are durable," Father said. "I see no harm in letting her wear them when she's with me, or when she rides Coco."

"She'll be in them every day then," Melinda piped up. "Just like a little tomboy." She looked at me and made a face. "Tomboy," she whispered in my ear.

"Melinda, that will do," Father said.

"Yes, sir." Melinda went back to her apple pie.

"So long as she understands they are only for riding here on the ranch," Mother said. "Andrea will not step a foot off this spread in overalls or britches. Is that understood?"

"Of course, dear," Father said. He smiled at me. "Andrea, you heard your mother. You may wear overalls to ride, but you will not complain when it's time to change for supper or for going to town."

"Yes, Father," I said. Inside, I was jumping up and down.

I leaped from my chair and ran around the table to hug Father tight. I hugged Mother too. She didn't look quite as happy as Father.

"Can I keep the overalls in my wardrobe instead of in Riley's orange crate?" I asked, nearly out of breath.

"MayI," Mother reminded me, but she nodded.

"Yippee!" I tore out of the dining room. From behind I heard Father laughing his big, deep laugh.

* * *

When Father was thrown from his horse and killed the following spring, I refused to take off my overalls. I cried and cried and kept them on, no matter what anybody said. My overalls made me think of Father, and I did not want to forget him.

Every time I wore my overalls I smelled the slight odor of horses and sweet hay; I remembered Father's tickly beard on the back of my neck when I rode in front of him and he kissed the top of my head.

Those overalls — and Justin — helped me accept the fact that Father had gone to heaven and was not coming back.

Mother let me wear overalls for many years. When I outgrew the pair Riley gave me, I wore my brother Mitch's hand-me-downs. I think Mother knew it was one way I could keep Father close to my heart.

Britches might not be for little girls ... but overalls are.

CHAPTER 2

The Best Gift of All

October 1874

This story takes place during Andi's Scary School Days.

Standing on tiptoe, I pressed my nose against the glass case in Mr. Goodwin's mercantile. So many pretty necklaces! So many rings and brooches! Which one would Mother like for her birthday? I clutched one dime and two pennies in my sweaty hand and tried to decide.

"How much is that one?" I pointed to a glittery, blue-glass brooch that would look lovely on Mother's Sunday best.

Mr. Goodwin smiled. "It's two —"

My heart soared in hope. I can buy it!

"... dollars and twenty-five cents," Mr. Goodwin finished.

Just as quickly, my heart plunged to my toes. I had been going to school for only one month, so I didn't know much about arithmetic yet. But even I knew that two pennies and two dollars were miles apart. And a dime is only ten cents. No help there.

"Your mother would love it."

"No, thank you, sir. I'll keep looking."

I sighed and walked down the length of the glass case. Handkerchiefs? No. Wooden spoons? No. Hair pins? No. A mustache cup? Absolutely no! So many choices. But not many that two pennies and one dime would buy.

At the other end of the store my sister Melinda chatted with a friend from school. A little bug of jealousy pinched my thoughts.

It's not fair! Melinda knows exactly what she plans to buy. Melinda had saved her money for weeks to buy a soft, cozy, pink shawl Mother would love.

It wasn't that I had forgotten Mother's birthday. Not exactly. But weeks were so long, and things happened so fast (or so slow) that I had forgotten to save the pennies Mother or Justin gave me for chores or "just because."

It didn't help that I sometimes forgot to do my chores. On those days I didn't get any pennies. It also didn't help that I'd spent a lot of pennies on licorice whips and lemon drops.

"What did you buy?" Melinda came to stand beside me after saying good-bye to her friend.

"Nothing."

"What? You have to buy Mother a birthday gift. Think of all the nice things she does for you. She's never forgotten your birthday."

That was true, but when Melinda talked like she knew everything, it always got my "dander up," as Mitch sometimes said. I scowled. "I didn't forget. I'm going to buy her a present."

"What?"

"I'm still looking."

Melinda tapped her foot impatiently. "You'd better hurry. Justin will be by to pick us up in a few minutes."

"Is an hour up already?" How could time go by so fast? "Please help me, Melinda. What can I buy with my money?"

My sister sighed and shifted the brown paper package under her arm. "How much do you have?"

Opening my hand, I showed Melinda the dime and two pennies lying in my palm.

"Is that all? You can't buy anything for twelve cents."

If twelve cents could not buy Mother a nice gift, what would I do? It would be a horrible, terrible tragedy.

Everyone else had a nice gift for her. Melinda had the beautiful shawl. Justin had shown me a pretty pearl necklace he'd bought in San Francisco. Mitch and Chad had put their heads together and thought of something Mother would love — a new saddle.

But I won't have anything to give her.

I wanted to sit down on the wooden floor and cry. I remembered just in time that I was six years old and too big to act like a baby in the mercantile. So I pressed my lips together like Chad told me to do when I got hurt and needed to be brave.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Can't I buy anything with a dime and two pennies?"

Melinda shrugged. "Not anything nice. Maybe a few hair pins or a mouse trap."

A wrinkled my nose. A mouse trap? Why would Mother want a mouse trap?

"I suppose I could give you two quarters," Melinda said in a kinder voice. "That way you can get Mother a nice scarf or maybe a hairbrush."

I thought for a minute then said, "No. If you give me the money, then it isn't my present to Mother."

"Yes, it is."

I shook my head. It was hard to explain, especially to my big sister, but in my heart I knew a present should be something I bought myself, with my own money.

Melinda had saved her money; probably the rest of the family had too. It didn't seem right to take Melinda's money to buy a present from me.

Melinda let out a breath. "Here comes Justin. Let's see what he says."

"Well, lovely ladies, are you ready to go home?" Justin gave one of my dark braids a gentle tug. "What did you buy for Mother?"

"I bought her a new shawl," Melinda said before I could say one word. "But Andi didn't buy anything. She doesn't have enough money. I offered to give her some of mine, but she won't take it. Isn't that the silliest —"

"I want to buy a present for Mother my own self," I burst out. "With my own money."

I quickly ducked my head. Interrupting others, even a bossy big sister, was not polite. I waited for Justin to scold me.

He didn't. To my surprise, he squatted down until his blue eyes could look right into mine. "Why don't you tell me about it," he said in his calm, quiet voice.

"I already told you," Melinda said. "She only —"

"Melinda, perhaps you should wait in the buggy." Justin used his do-it-now voice. "I'll help Andi with her present."

I could tell Melinda didn't want to obey Justin. She scowled at me and flounced out of the store.

Things went much better after Melinda left. Justin let me look around while he made suggestions. But even Justin couldn't do much with twelve cents.

"Perhaps Mother would like lemon drops," he said. "You know she has a sweet tooth. Candy would be a nice birthday treat. You can buy a little sack of lemon drops for a dime."

"Luisa is making her a birthday cake," I said. "With white icing."

"Hmmm," Justin said thoughtfully. "I see."

Pretty soon, I was feeling a little desperate. The same way I felt when Chad told me to do a chore and I dawdled too long. I have to hurry up and find something, I told myself, or Mother's birthday will come and I won't be ready.

"I have an idea," Justin said when I felt a few tears leaking out. "Why don't you draw Mother a picture? She loved the picture you drew last week of Coco. A drawing wouldn't cost anything."

I twirled the end of my braid and shrugged. "It doesn't seem as special as a shawl or a saddle or a pearl necklace."

"It would be special if it was in this beautiful frame," Mr. Goodwin said from behind the counter. He held up a small, gold-gilded frame that would look beautiful on top of Mother's dresser.

I caught my breath. A perfect present! "Does it cost a dime and two pennies?"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Andrea Carter's Tales from the Circle C Ranch by Susan K. Marlow. Copyright İ 2015 Susan K. Marlow. Excerpted by permission of Kregel Publications.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Kregel Publications, U.S.
• Publication date: 2015
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0825443792
• ISBN 13: 9780825443794
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 160