Scott In A Bug
by
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We heard them coming from a mile away, bawling, bellowing and mooing in the hot, clear June air. Four dusty, sweaty and winded cowboys on horseback appeared from the shadows of the forest, circling a milling, dirt-cloud raising herd of about a hundred head of cattle, yelling, “Git. Hi, ya. Git on there,” as they drove them toward the corral across the road.
Fred and Putt and I dashed over to the corral as soon as we saw what was going down. Real quick we had to chase Putt home and lock her in the cabin. When she spotted that herd of cattle she tore right through the middle of it, barking and chasing calves away from the herd, showing us she could protect her family from a hundred intruders of any breed. Or maybe just because she thought it was fun.
Of course, Fernandez disappeared for the rest of the day.
Round-up was news to us, especially as it was happening practically in our front yard. It was like a surprise party suddenly showed up, bringing its own boisterous noise and action and party guys, in real working denim and leather costumes.
The corral fence was a safe bet to sit on to avoid getting run over, but I was so antsy I kept jumping off to chase run-away calves, just so’s I’d feel like I was part of the action. Each cowboy had his own task. I kept an eye on the whole scene swirling around us in the choking dust, to see what they’d do next.
These were real working cowboys, with tanned leather glove like faces. They guided their horses into the middle of the pack to separate the kicking, brawling calves from the larger cows at the corral gate. The way they hung together, I could tell that mothers had been driven in from the range with their young. A cowboy would corner a calf, guiding it through the gate into the corral while blocking the mother with the horse’s body.
Two cowboys worked the edge of the herd, chasing escapee calves from horseback, and roping and hauling them back to the corral. That job looked like the most fun. This was one giant scared mass of bawling brown babies and mooing mothers the size of hippos, frantic for their young. They circled and circled the corral, mothers on the outside, calves inside, each one trying to find a broad black nose through the fence that smelled like the right black nose.
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About the Book
''a massive mack truck lunged around the curve past my frozen body. A blast of hot air whistled past my face as it blew and snorted...''
Scott''s mouth fills with basketballs when he tries to talk with the kids in his school, except for his best friend, the Moogle. The summer before Scott enters eighth grade, his dad contracts for summer work high in the Rocky Mountains. Scott and his brother and parents, plus their dog Puttputt and cat, Fernandez, spend the summer in a century old log cabin without modern amenities, but with plenty of mice. They learn to cope without the basic stuff they have always taken for granted, like running water and electricity, as well as the contemporary fun stuff.
Scott hikes on the mountain and find rabbits and coyotes and an occasional moose. He compares his life with life on a modern ranch with his new friend, the daughter of their rancher landlord. Fred and Scott run around green cow pies during a real ranch round-up, and almost learn to ride horseback.
Forced to rely on his own strengths and smarts over the weeks of summer, through dangerous encounters with wildlife and fire and a trouble-making car, Scott discovers that he can survive without his basketball mouth. He also uncovers what it is that makes trouble-mouth Fred bearable as a brother.
About the Author
My life as a real writer began when my career deposited me in adult education. Workshops had to be designed and taught to all ages; ages that eventually slipped and slid down into middle school. The kids'''' stories were way too much fun, and so it was that I retired from my day job to write stories all day, and occasionally, all night. Scott In A Bug is my first piece to be published in the children''''s genre. I have written science fiction novels for middle school age, as well as a number of picture books and poems.