by Sonya Bates
Thunder Creek
Ranch
Sonya
Spreen Bates
Illustrated by
Kasia Charko
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
For Riley, who agreed to be Tommy for the big jump.
Text copyright © 2013 Sonya Spreen Bates
Illustrations copyright © 2013 Kasia Charko
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Bates, Sonya Spreen
Thunder Creek ranch [electronic resource] / Sonya Bates ;
illustrated by Kasia Charko.
(Orca echoes)
Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-4598-0113-4 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0446-3 (EPUB)
I. Charko, Kasia, 1949- II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes (Online)
PS8603.A8486T58 2013 jC813’.6 C2012-907496-9
First published in the United States, 2013
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012952960
Summary: Jake and Tommy are about to learn why their grandparents’ farm is called Thunder Creek Ranch.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Kasia Charko
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO BOX 5626, Stn. B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4 PO BOX 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
16 15 14 13 • 4 3 2 1
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
THE LOOKOUT
Jake grabbed the branch above him and climbed higher into the tree. It was the tallest tree on Grandpa’s farm. From the top, he could see right across the valley. He pulled out his binoculars and peered through the lenses.
I am the lookout on a tall ship, he thought. We have been at sea for many weeks. Our supplies are low. I search for land.
“I need a boost, Jake,” Tommy called from the ground.
Jake glanced down at his little brother, hopping up and down as he tried to grab on to the lowest branch. He had just had his eighth birthday, but he was still as shrimpy and hopeless as ever.
The crew is restless, Jake thought, looking through the binoculars again. We must find land soon or perish.
A cool breeze blew the hair off his forehead. Jake tried to imagine that the rich brown soil was a deep blue ocean and that the sparrows flying overhead were seagulls. It wasn’t easy. He could hear Grandpa’s tractor rumbling away in the next field, and the herd of cows looked nothing like a pod of dolphins. He turned the binoculars toward the neighbor’s house.
“Land ho!” he cried.
“What land?” asked Tommy. “Help me up, Jake. I can’t see anything down here.”
“Just wait,” said Jake. “You can have a turn in a minute.”
Tommy was always bugging him, asking for help or tagging along when he wasn’t wanted. Jake had tried to sneak out of the house without him, but Grandma had insisted Tommy come too. “It’s a big place,” she had said. “You stick together.” Jake sighed. He wished there was someone else to hang out with. Last Christmas his cousin Lexie had gone skiing with them and they’d had lots of fun, even if she did think she knew everything.
Someone came out of the house on the neighbor’s farm. The person was quite short, bundled up in a jacket that looked too big for them. Jake squinted into the binoculars. He thought it would be old Ned McNash, but it wasn’t. This person didn’t even have gray hair.
“What’s going on?” asked Tommy. “What can you see?”
“There’s a kid over at the McNash place,” said Jake.
“A kid?” said Tommy. “What’s a kid doing over there?”
“I don’t know,” said Jake. He leaned forward to get a better look and almost fell out of the tree. “He’s going out to the barn.”
Jake stared through the binoculars. Ned and Mildred McNash had lived on the farm next door to Grandma and Grandpa ever since Jake could remember. He had never seen anyone visiting, not even the local vet. And never a kid. Could a new family have moved in? Jake hadn’t seen a For Sale sign out front. Besides, Grandma would have told them if the McNashes were gone. Who could it be?
The kid threw the barn door open and ducked inside. Jake put the binoculars down. “I’m going over there,” he said, starting down the tree.
“But we’re not supposed to go there,” said Tommy. “Mrs. McNash will yell at us again.”
“We aren’t going,” said Jake. “I am.” He jumped off the lowest branch and landed with a thump. “You stay here and keep watch.” He handed Tommy the binoculars. “I’ll go around the back of the barn. She’ll never see me.”
“But Grandma told us—” Tommy said.
“I know what Grandma told us,” said Jake. “But I’m not going far, and you’ll be able to see me the whole time.”
Tommy was getting the stubborn look on his face that meant he was going to argue with Jake.
“Look, I’ll give you a boost up and you can watch from the lookout,” said Jake.
Tommy’s face lit up. He had never been to the top of the tree before. Jake cupped his hands for Tommy’s foot and boosted him up to the first branch. He watched while Tommy swung his leg over the rough bark.
Tommy grinned down at Jake.
“Be careful,” Jake said. “Grandma will kill me if you fall.”
“I will,” said Tommy.
He started up the tree, and Jake took off across the field toward the McNash farm.
Chapter Two
THE NEW NEIGHBOR
Jake ran through the high grass. He hoped there weren’t any snakes around. He had seen one sunning itself on a rock near Thunder Creek last summer. But it was still cold. The snow had only just melted, and the snakes would still be hibernating. He hoped.
Reaching the fence, he climbed over and looked toward the McNash house. He hoped Mrs. McNash wasn’t looking out the back window. Despite what he had said to Tommy, he didn’t want to get her mad.
She was like a mother bear protecting her cubs when she got angry.
I am a soldier, racing across no-man’s-land to enemy territory, he thought. I must not be seen. He dashed across the yard and pressed himself against the wall of the barn, breathing hard. There was no sound from the house.
With a sigh of relief, he turned and peered through the barn window. It was dark inside. He cupped his hands around his eyes to keep out the light, but the window was dirty and he still couldn’t see anything. I must complete my scouting mission, Jake thought. Information is vital to our battle plans.
“What are you doing?” said a voice behind him.
Jake spun around. A boy stood before him. He had blond hair and a pudgy face, and he wore a jacket that was two sizes too big for him. He was just a little shorter than Jake.
“Uh, I…” Jake said. “I’m Jake. I live next door— well, my grandparents
do. On Thunder Creek Ranch. I saw you go into the barn and thought I’d come over to say hi.”
The boy turned to look at Jake’s grandparents’ house, a small speck on the other side of the field. “You saw me from there? What were you doing? Spying?”
“No, of course not,” said Jake. “I only noticed because there isn’t usually anyone around. Where are you from anyway? Did your mom and dad buy this place?”
“Nah, it’s my gramp’s place,” the boy said.
“Oh,” said Jake. This was Ned McNash’s grandson? Jake hadn’t even known he had a kid. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
The boy shrugged. “I’ve never been here before. We live in Toronto.”
“Oh,” said Jake again. Toronto sounded like it was a long way away.
“Wanna see the quad bike?” said the boy.
Jake grinned. “Yeah,” he said.
It was dark in the barn and smelled like hay and tractor fuel. Tools hung on the walls, and a tractor stood inside the big doors. Tucked in under the ladder to the hayloft was a brand-new quad bike.
“Gramp just bought it,” the boy said. He climbed on and put his hands on the handlebars.
“Cool,” said Jake. He circled around, admiring it from all angles. His grandparents had an old motorbike they used on the farm, but it was rusted and falling apart. Jake wasn’t allowed to touch it.
“Wanna go for a ride?” asked the boy.
Jake looked up to see if he was joking. “Are you allowed to drive it?”
The boy shrugged. He lifted a helmet off a hook on the wall and slid it onto his head. “Mom won’t care.”
“What about your grandparents?” asked Jake.
“They won’t care either. Hop on.” The boy scooted forward so there was room on the seat for Jake. He pushed the starter button and the motor roared to life.
Jake watched as the boy pushed the bike back from the wall and turned it toward the door. “Do you know how to drive it?” he asked.
“What’s not to know?” the boy said. “Now, are you coming or not?”
Jake hesitated. He had a feeling Mrs. McNash wouldn’t like them taking the bike out. But it looked like fun. And it couldn’t be any harder than driving a go-cart. He had done that lots of times. He grabbed the other helmet and hopped on the back of the bike.
The boy revved the motor. The bike leapt forward so fast that Jake almost fell off the back. He grabbed on to the boy’s jacket, and they sped through the barn doors and into the yard.
Chapter Three
THE ANGRY BEAR
The boy drove like a madman. He sped away from the barn, heading straight for the fence. At the last minute he took a hard right, skidding around the corner so close to the wooden planks that Jake could have reached out and touched them. Then he raced across the paddock. The bike flew over the bumps and dips and landed so hard that Jake’s teeth chattered. They reached the fence on the other side and careened around the corner again.
“Slow down!” Jake said.
The boy laughed and eased up on the throttle. Then, just when Jake thought he could relax, he cranked up the accelerator again and pulled the bike into a doughnut. Around and around they went, the world spinning by with dizzying speed.
Jake thought he might throw up. “Stop!” he shouted. “Let me off!”
The boy hit the brake. Jake would have gone over the handlebars if the boy hadn’t been in front of him. He leapt off and threw his helmet on the ground.
“What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy or something?” he shouted.
“What?” said the boy. “I was just having a little fun.”
“You call that fun?” said Jake. “You almost killed us.”
“Don’t be a wuss,” the boy said. “A baby could drive this thing and not get hurt. It’s a quad bike. You know—four tires on the ground. What could happen?”
Jake glared at him. “How about smashing into the fence or flipping it into a ditch? This isn’t a racecourse, you know.”
The boy shrugged.
“Jake? Jake?”
Jake turned to see Tommy running across the field toward them. He groaned. Tommy would tell Grandma he had been on the quad bike, and then he would really be in trouble.
“I thought I told you to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s,” Jake said when Tommy reached them.
“I did,” said Tommy, trying to catch his breath.
“But then you went into the barn, and I couldn’t see you and Grandma told us—”
“Yeah, I know. Grandma told us to stick together,” said Jake, rolling his eyes.
“Who’s that?” asked Tommy, glancing at the boy on the bike.
“That’s—” Jake realized he didn’t know the boy’s name.
“I’m Cory,” the boy said. He turned the bike off and removed his helmet. “Who are you?”
“Tommy,” said Tommy.
“My little brother,” said Jake.
Tommy scowled at him. “I’m not that little anymore. I’m eight.”
“I’ll be nine next month,” Cory said. “Want a ride?”
Tommy’s eyes grew round. Jake opened his mouth to say, “No way,” but the sound of a door slamming made them all stop and look toward the house. Jake saw Mrs. McNash charging across the yard. Her body heaved with every step, and her housecoat flapped behind her in the wind. There was a look of thunder on her face.
“It’s Gram,” said Cory. “Run!”
Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He tore across the paddock and leapt over the fence into Grandpa’s field, with Tommy and Cory close behind.
“Cory McNash, you come back here!” shouted Mrs. McNash.
They kept running.
Chapter Four
STAMPEDE
They didn’t stop until they were two fields away and the house was out of sight.
Jake flopped to the ground, exhausted. “I thought you said you were allowed to ride the quad bike,” he said to Cory.
Cory was leaning over to catch his breath. “I didn’t think they would care. Mom wouldn’t.”
“Where did you learn to drive like that anyway?” asked Tommy.
Cory thumped to the ground next to Jake and Tommy. “My dad,” he said proudly. “He’s a race-car driver.”
“Wow, a race-car driver,” said Tommy. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah, way cool,” said Jake. He liked to watch car racing on tv. “What kind of cars does he race?”
“Race cars, of course,” said Cory.
“Yeah, but what kind?” said Jake. “Formula One? Stock cars? Drag racers?”
Cory looked away. “Uh…all of them,” he said.
Jake made a face. “All of them? How can he do that?”
“Well, not at the same time, of course,” said Cory. “He drives Formula One the most. And then sometimes he drives a different car. You know, in other races, when there aren’t any races for Formula One.”
“You’re making it up,” said Jake.
“I am not!” said Cory. “My dad does drive race cars. At least, he used to.” He looked back and forth between the two boys. Obviously they didn’t believe him. “He did! And now he owns his own racetrack,” he said.
“He owns a racetrack?” said Jake doubtfully.
“You must be rich,” said Tommy.
“Well, it’s not a really big track,” said Cory. “It’s a motocross track.”
Jake shook his head. Cory was a bragger. “Come on, Tommy,” he said. “We better get back to the house. It’s almost lunchtime.”
He stood and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Looking up, he saw a cow with her calf headed toward them. He frowned. There weren’t supposed to be any cows in this field. As he watched, another cow came into view, then another and another.
“Tommy, did you close the gate behind you?” asked Jake.
Tommy stared at the cows. “I was going to, but Cory yelled at me to leave it open for him.”
They both turned to look at Cory. Cory shrugged. �
�No one told me to close the gate. How was I supposed to know there were cows in there?”
“You always close the gate,” Jake said. “Everyone knows that.” More and more cows ambled down the slope. There must be twenty of them, all with a calf tagging along. “We have to turn them back,” he said. “Grandpa will kill us if he sees them out here.”
I am a ranch hand, he thought. I have lost my horse and my dog. But the herd must be returned to home paddock. A storm is brewing. Jake jumped up and ran toward the cows. He waved his arms and called out, “Get up!” like he had heard his Grandpa do.
The nearest cow lifted her large brown head and turned to look at him. Then she went back to munching the spring grass.
“Come on, help me,” Jake yelled at the other two boys.
Tommy walked closer, flapping his arms halfheartedly. “What if they charge me?” he said.
“They won’t,” said Jake, hoping he was right. Up close, the cows were bigger than he had thought. Almost as big as the bison he had seen at the zoo. “They’re used to being herded. Go on! Get back!” he yelled at them.
Jake heard someone laugh.
“Like they’re gonna listen to you,” said Cory, slouching up behind them.
Jake scowled. “Have you got a better idea?”
Cory shrugged.
“Then help us,” said Jake. “You’re the one who let them out.”
“I guess,” said Cory.
The boys spread out and walked toward the cows, waving their arms and calling, “Get up!” and “Get back home!” Jake wished Bella, the sheepdog, were here. She would get them going. Slowly the cows started to turn around.
The herd is turning, thought Jake. And just in time. The storm is upon us. Lightning streaks across the sky. Rain thunders down. We must seek shelter.
The cows had almost reached the gate when one of the calves bolted. It darted away from the herd and headed in Tommy’s direction.
Tommy screamed and ran. The calf kicked up its heels and loped after him.
“Jake! Help!” screamed Tommy.