Samirah's Ride: The Story of an Ara by Annie Wedekind (English) Paperback Book

Description: Samirah's Ride by Annie Wedekind Samirah, a spirited Arabian filly, and her girl, Jasper, live on a struggling dude ranch in Utah. Jasper fears her beloved horse will be sold. Desperate, she concocts a plan that unwittingly brings the duo to the edge of catastrophe. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Samirahs Ride is the third book in Annie Wedekinds The Breyer Horse Collection series Samirah is an eight-year-old Arabian mare, who has been carefully raised and trained by her girl, Jasper, to be the ultimate family ranch horse. Sami has long sensed that Jasper is itching for freedom, and wants to be a real cowgirl. And when Jasper hears a rumor that her family is being forced to sell their ranch and decides to run away, the filly and her girl find themselves lost in a beautiful, legendary wilderness, but one fraught with dangers. Sami must use all of her resources and strength to keep them both alive. Our Arabian will do everything for her girl, and the girl will do everything for her horse. Author Biography Annie Wedekind grew up riding horses in Louisville, Kentucky. Since then, shes been in the saddle in every place shes lived, from Rhode Island to New Orleans, South Africa to New York. Her first novel, A Horse of Her Own, was praised by Kirkus as "possibly the most honest horse book since National Velvet . . . A champion." She is also the author of The Breyer Horse Collection books, including Wild Blue, Little Prince, and Mercurys Flight. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York. Review "Horse fans and animal lovers will embrace this book with unbridled enthusiasm. It deserves a place next to Marguerite Henry or even Jack London on young readers bookshelves." --School Library Journal on Wild World "Sensitive, sophisticated and lyrically written, Wedekinds debut portrays the typical teen struggle for self-awareness in an anything-but-typical fashion. Possibly the most honest horse book since National Velvet, from an equestrian point-of-view, this offerings riding scenes combine accuracy with seat-of-the-pants excitement. A champion." --Kirkus Reviews, starred review on A Horse of Her Own Review Quote Sensitive, sophisticated and lyrically written, Wedekinds debut portrays the typical teen struggle for self-awareness in an anything-but-typical fashion. Possibly the most honest horse book since National Velvet , from an equestrian point-of-view, this offerings riding scenes combine accuracy with seat-of-the-pants excitement. A champion. Excerpt from Book CHAPTER 1 Full of fire and full of bone, All his line of fathers known MY NAME IS SAMIRAH-SAMI FOR SHORT, since I live on a ranch where almost everyone acquires a nickname. My old master came into this world as Jedediah Munk, and will leave it as Red. His wife, Mrs. Gloria Munk, is Miz M. Among her employees are a bearded, burly hand called Peach and a weedy fellow known as Bull. Even regular visitors get nicknamed: My farrier, April, is always called May, and the vet, Dr. McGowan, answers to Doolittle. One of the few people called by her proper name is my companion, Jasper Munk, age twelve. Perhaps its because she has an unusual name for a girl-almost like a nickname and a real name rolled into one. Or perhaps its because shes known to kick, hard, if called anything else. "Freckles," "Pumpkin," "Carrot," "Slim"-all have been tried and all have painfully failed. So I am Sami, Arabian mare, companion to Jasper, and member of the herd at the Cold Creek Ranch. I was three years old when Red purchased me as a birthday gift for his then nine-year-old daughter and only child, Jasper. I was (and am) considered quite clever, so although at age three I was only halter-broke, Red decided that I would be a suitable friend to keep his daughter company. "Both smart. Both redheads. Help me keep her out of trouble, wont you, Sami?" I promised to try, and Red palmed me a carrot. Though he demanded much, Red had a generous spirit-like the rest of his family, as I was soon to discover. I had an immediate affinity with Jasper-or she with me. After our many adventures together, its difficult to know how much of her has been formed by me and how much of me has been molded by her. But, in the very beginning, her heart spoke to me as readily and as clearly as her voice and her hands, and both of these greeted me as if we had long been friends. And-who knows?-perhaps we always have been. Im a great believer in destiny and history, as is Jasper, and perhaps we share a destiny, as much as we share a history. "Is she mine? Is she mine?" the small girl cried as I stepped off the trailer on that warm spring day, and her soft hands flickered over my coat, my mane, returning over and over to my muzzle. "I think it might be the other way around," Miz M said, and Red laughed. Yes, Im yours, I thought. She was so particular, so different, and yet familiar despite her strangeness. We were both very young creatures, after all. Jasper, at nine, was her future self in miniature: slender and supple as a new blade of grass, with a tangle of hair almost the exact shade of dark red as my coat and clear gray eyes shining from her riotously freckled face. She was the smallest and the newest human I had ever met, and her fillyish excitement was infectious. My hooves danced in time with her skipping boots, and I breathed in her warm, flowery scent of the open fields where she played. "Look at her nose, Daddy!" Jasper cried. "Look how big shes breathing!" "Thats why they call Arabians Drinkers of the Wind, " Red told her. "Those big nostrils help them run fast, and to take in the world." "Shes going to run fast?" Jasper whispered. "Really fast?" Her feet went still, as did her hands. She stared up at me with fierce concentration. "Oh yes," Red said. "But not just yet-at least, not with you aboard, Jasper. Samis just a filly, and shes got a lot of learning to do. As do you, young lady." And so it was that Jasper and I began our mutual education. . . . COLD CREEK RANCH IS PERCHED ON A GENTLE bluff overlooking the Green River, in the northeastern part of the state of Utah. The barn is very old but has become more solid and substantial with age, as if all the years of careful cleaning have polished it to a deep, mellow shine. (I suppose the same could be said for the main house, but Ive never been in it.) There was so much to see, to smell, and to listen to during the first days when I settled into my new home. Jasper was my primary guide, but I learned a great deal from the ranchs other humans and, eventually, even more from its horses. I soon struck up a friendship with Chief, a sturdy bay quarter horse who is ridden by the cowboy Peach. Chief was as easygoing and companionable as his rider-and much less intimidating than Cold Creek Ranchs lead mare, Magpie. With her glossy black-and-white coat and long, sweeping tail, Reds companion does indeed resemble the bird that is her namesake. She rules the herd with a benevolent despotism that, as a young filly, I did not fully appreciate. Almost as soon as we met, our wills clashed. I am the daughter of a lead mare. My gentle mother, Sola, brightly colored, spirited, and swift as flame, governed the small herd in which I grew up. Her manner of leading and Magpies were quite different, I soon found. Or perhaps I should say that life as the daughter of a lead mare and life as a young outsider were quite different. I spent my first three days at the ranch in a roomy paddock near the barn. There was a bit of grass for grazing, and Jasper brought me a daily ration of hay and oats, as well as kept the drinking trough fresh. The paddock was an excellent vantage point for observing the workings of the ranch. In the morning, I watched the herd gather near the gate in answer to Peachs low whist≤ then each horse was hitched to a post while Peach, Bull, and Jasper brushed the mud from their legs, picked hooves, and untangled manes and tails. Jasper had a little blue bucket she stood on to reach the taller horses. Im afraid she wasnt much use to the ranch hands those mornings, for she was always skipping over to my paddock to make sure I didnt feel left out. There was hardly any muck, or room to muck about, in my pen, but she gave me a thorough polishing and combing each morning-I dont think Ive been so clean since. After the grooming, the horses were saddled and bridled. I was quite impressed with how workmanlike the herd seemed-quietly taking the bits, looking about them with interest, flickering an ear back to the people as they discussed the day ahead. "Me and Chief will move the cows to the south pasture," Peach told Bull. "You get the trail ride, Bull, and Jasper, Miz M needs you in the house." Jasper, unlike the horses, did not take this quietly. "Aw, Peach, no! I need to lead Sami around and show her the creek and the best spots for drinking, and the view from the big hill, and her stall where I put up her new halter, and-" Peach was grimacing in a way that looked entirely sympathetic to Jasper and wishing he had different orders for her, but just then her mothers voice sailed down from the kitchen window: "Jasper Munk! I need you as soon as you finish with the horses. Weve got more guests coming tomorrow and beds to make and bread to bake and bathrooms to clean. Samis tour can wait till after lunch." Jaspers face was pink with fury and she kicked the hitching post so hard that Chief snorted an admonishment. "I hate guests," she muttered. "Wish we were still a real ranch. Dumb old city slickers who dont know a thing about horses. Dumb old cooking and laundry . . . like Im a maid instead of a cowgirl . . ." Much of this was lost on me at the time, but as Jasper stalked toward the house, misery written in every small, tense muscle, I whinnied to her. She stopped, turned, and pelted back to me like a tiny foal to its mother. She flung her arms around my neck, swore to come back as soon as her chores were finished, and seemed in a slightly better humor after petting me about two dozen times. . . . IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, AS JASPER AND I took long walks over the property, I learned what my companion had meant when she longed for a "real" ranch. I suppose I had been brought up on such a place, where raising horses and cattle were the humans livelihood. And the Cold Creek itself had once been a thriving cattle outfit, according to Jasper, who was as proud of her familys history-her heritage-as I am of mine. My family comes from the central Arabian desert-bred by Bedouins to be strong, fast, hardy, and loyal to our human companions. My ancestors were the nomadic tribesmens wealth and pride, and valued members of their families. My mother and my grandmother told me stories of the legends from our distant past, much as Jaspers father instilled in her a pride of place. For me, the place is not the source of pride-its the blood of the Arabian that flows through my veins. That, I can take with me. But I am getting ahead of myself. These are lessons I tried to teach Jasper, in my own way. When she thought she had lost her home, she felt she lost everything. The Arabian has long known that home is where your herd is, where your family is, and that, as we learn during our far-flung and well-traveled lives, can be anywhere. But Cold Creek Ranch was Jaspers home, and perhaps the waters of the Green River flowed in her veins. This was a majestic and noble land-I sensed that from the moment my hoof first touched down from the trailer and I inhaled the lush, fresh fragrance of well-watered grassland, the pink-and-white-flowering salt cedar trees, and the pungent aroma of sage and greasewood. Far from any town, Details ISBN0312622686 Author Annie Wedekind Short Title SAMIRAHS RIDE Language English ISBN-10 0312622686 ISBN-13 9780312622688 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Audience Age 9-12 Imprint St Martins Press Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Year 2010 Publication Date 2010-06-22 Illustrations Illustrations, black and white Series Number 3 UK Release Date 2010-06-22 AU Release Date 2010-06-22 NZ Release Date 2010-06-22 US Release Date 2010-06-22 Pages 128 Publisher St Martins Press Series Breyer Horse Collection Subtitle The Story of an Ara Audience Children / Juvenile We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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