Bronwyn of Iron Hoof Ranch

By April Bradshaw

Bronwyn has attended Bennett's Boarding School for Young Women since she was ten years old. Now fifteen, she has a chance to live on a ranch with her cousins for a year, and the best part is that she will have her own horse! She has longed for a horse her entire life and going to live at Iron Hoof Ranch is a dream come true. She and her cousin Emmy share a close bond and have many adventures together. Is there an outlaw hiding out in the secret cabin? Does Al Reagan of Crooked Arrow Ranch plan to get rid of the beautiful and wild Cincinnati? Will he uncover her amazing secret? Does she, a newcomer, have a chance at winning the spring rodeo? Can she out-ride the Philips' twins whose horses were trained by the best? Wynn's faith and courage come together as she takes the most important ride of her life.

Written with warmth and humor, and genuine in its details about horse training, this book will find a prominent place on every horse-loving girl's bookshelf.

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Bradshaw
• Release date: Jan 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311071064

April Bradshaw

In addition to writing, April Bradshaw enjoys growing herbs, kayaking, playing piano, and painting. But being Grammie to little Margot tops the list.Her desire is to honor God with the gifts he has given her. To that end, she strives to provide wholesome, entertaining books for her readership.

Book preview

BRONWYN of IRON HOOF RANCH

by

APRIL BRADSHAW

Drawings by Brooke Bradshaw

Copyright 2016 April Bradshaw

Smashwords Edition

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For Brooke and because of Brooke.

I love you, Whinny.

and

For cousin Liz who shared the dream.

Chapter 1

Bronwyn Hall held her breath as the Arabian gelding beneath her gathered speed. She leaned forward in the saddle. One hand held the reins, the other gripped the dark mane so tightly her knuckles turned white. The gelding gathered himself, then sailed over an embankment and down the steep side of a mud-encased hill.

Dirt clods flew in all directions. The pounding hooves slipped, then pawed air before they regained sure footing and raced on. Faster, faster. She squeezed her eyes closed and hung on for dear life. She was ahead of the other riders and only one jump remained! Her mount breathed hard now, nostrils flaring, flanks straining as his muscled legs pummeled the ground. The smell of warm horseflesh assailed the summer air.

She remained bent over his neck and tilted her head to glance at her stopwatch. If she crossed the finish line in twelve seconds she would tie the national record! Eleven, and she would beat it. Sweat glistened on the brown hide of the gelding. His neck strained forward, pulsing, heaving. The grueling cross country race wasn’t for novices or the faint of heart. Months of training funneled into this one event, this glorious moment.

Wynn raised her eyes to see over the Arabian’s magnificent head. She gasped. The last jump! Horse and rider flew over. No rails down! They tore for the finish line. Four seconds to break the record! Three! She was going to make it! She was—

A shrill bell shattered the image. Startled, Wynn opened her eyes and found herself back in Algebra class at Bennett’s Boarding School for Young Women. Sunlight streamed through the second-floor windows of the classroom and formed patterns of light on the rust colored tiled floor and pristine white walls. She was reminded of her first impression of the school five years ago when she was only ten—that it looked like a hospital. But her father hadn’t seen it that way, and he had to put her somewhere when he deployed.

Students talked noisily as they gathered together their things and prepared to leave the classroom. Remember to turn in text books at the office, Miss Mason called out. You will not receive your grades until all books are returned. Don’t forget! Then seemingly as an afterthought she added, Have a good summer and I’ll see you in the fall.

Not me! Wynn thought. She closed her math book with a snap and slid it into her book bag. She moved toward the door and nearly ran into another student.

Hey, Wynn, the tall dark- haired girl said.

Hi Joanie. Looks like we’re both in a hurry to get out of here! You leaving soon?"

The classmate slung her book bag over her shoulder. My parents will be here in an hour. What about you?

Bronwyn, called Wynn by her classmates, felt her smile spill over. I get to spend the summer and all next school year with my cousins in Oregon! They have a cattle ranch!

Joanie’s green eyes widened. Why won’t you be with your dad?

His unit deployed. Her father was a soldier, he protected people, and that made her feel proud. It was his idea for me to stay with my cousins over the summer, but my aunt and uncle convinced him to let me come for the whole year.

"I wish I didn’t have to come back to Bennett’s, but my parents said I have to finish high school here. Joanie turned off at her room. Bye, Wynn. I hope you have fun at the ranch."

Wynn stopped for a quick drink at the fountain before continuing down the hall. She understood why her father enrolled her in Bennett’s after her mom died, but sometimes, lying in the darkness after lights-out, her bedcovers pulled up to her chin and silence so thick she could feel it, she longed to be home with him.

She came to her room and went inside. She had packed nearly everything into her suitcases already and placed her favorite book on top. Horses, Horses, Horses. Its pages were worn, and its cover, dog-eared. Next to the Bible, she read it more than anything else. She’d bought the book with her own money when she was nine—the same year she’d decided she would own a horse ranch someday. Pretty big dreams for someone who has never ridden, her father had teased.

It was true, Wynn thought, she had not set foot in a stirrup –yet. But all that was about to change! Aunt Anne had promised her a horse at Iron Hoof Ranch. Wynn wanted to shout for joy. Even though it would only be hers while she lived with her cousins, she could pretend it was her very own. And cousin Emmy, one year younger, had volunteered to teach her to ride. It had been three years since she had seen Emmy but they’d kept in close contact. The summer Wynn turned twelve, her uncle had come for a visit with Emmy in tow and Wynn had felt an instant connection between them. They shared a close bond as cousins, horse lovers and friends. Emmy sounded as excited as Wynn about spending the year together.

Wynn dragged her suitcases to the door. She was happy for Emmy’s offer to teach her to ride, but she didn’t expect to need much instruction. After all, she had read enough books on the subject to fill an entire library.

Her packing done, she wandered outside onto the school grounds to pass the time. Her flight left bright and early in the morning and the hours in between couldn’t pass quickly enough.

Wynn pressed her nose against the airplane window and looked down at the Illinois River from an altitude of 30,000 feet. She was on her way!

Iron Hoof Ranch. It was a wonderful name. She’d dreamed what it would be like from the moment her father told her she was going. She pictured men on horseback driving cattle into corrals for branding; large fires, hot branding irons, the smell of sweat and dust in the air… It would be amazing. She and Emmy would ride acres of wooded hills in search of stray cattle—dogies they called them in her books. Maybe they would have to spend nights in the woods eating beans and wieners from a can for dinner as they sat around a campfire –the fire to keep away predatory animals. A thrill ran down her spine.

She returned to the window. There was nothing to see now but blue above and below. A flight attendant pushed a cart down the narrow aisle of the plane, passing out soft drinks and bags of nuts. Wynn reached for her copy of Horses, Horses, Horses in the carry-on at her feet and leaned back in the seat to read.

The plane touched down at Blue Mountain Airport. Wynn’s heart pounded in her chest. Would the ranch be like she imagined? How would it feel to ride a real horse –one of flesh and blood instead of the images dreams were made of? What if she couldn’t keep her seat, and even fell off? Her cheeks burned at the thought. Or, she countered, maybe she would take to it even better than her wildest expectations and surprise everyone! Questions tumbled through her mind like a new foal trying to gain its footing. She shouldered her carry- on and made her way to baggage claim.

Wynn!

The exclamation came from behind. She whirled as Emmy bore down, then threw her arms around her. Within seconds, a group surrounded them. When Emmy finally drew back, they stood grinning at one another.

Bronwyn, light-haired Aunt Anne said warmly. We are so happy you’re here! Uncle Charles will get your luggage if you’ll point it out when it comes by. Her aunt was petite with an angular form and kind, hazel eyes. Wynn liked her immediately.

Uncle Charles was as she remembered –stocky with brown hair and a wonderful booming laugh. His grip on Wynn’s arm was strong and friendly. That it? he asked and pointed to a set of purple polka-dot luggage that came slowly down the conveyer belt.

Wynn giggled. Whoever owns those doesn’t have to worry about losing them.

Or getting them stolen, Emmy added. She was small for her fourteen years. Soft blonde hair fell to her shoulders and her narrow brown eyes crinkled into mere slits when she smiled.

"I like them suitcases, six-year-old Kelly offered. With brown hair and snappy dark eyes, she resembled Uncle Charles. Purple’s a good color, ain’t it, Ma?"

Kelly! her mother admonished. "When did you start calling me Ma? That’s terrible. And it’s those suitcases."

"And you shouldn’t say ain’t either, sixteen-year-old Anders contributed, tugging his little sister’s pigtail. He was blonde like Emmy. Cousin Bronwyn is going to think you’re a country bumpkin who can’t speak proper English." He winked at Wynn.

Kelly eyed her. "I knew I weren’t supposed to say ain’t."

Wynn smiled at her young cousin.

Car’s this way, Uncle Charles said when Wynn’s luggage was collected.

With Emmy holding one hand and Kelly the other, Wynn followed her uncle into the parking lot. She settled into the back seat of the car beside her cousins for the trip to Iron Hoof Ranch. She couldn’t wait to get started with the horses—riding, grooming, mucking stalls—as much as she wanted! At least she hoped it would be as much as she wanted. She looked at the back of Uncle Charles’ head. Maybe someone else already took care of those things and she would be in the way if she tried to help. Emmy promised I would get my fill of horses, she reminded herself. How long until we’re there? she asked.

If I say that, Daddy tells me to sit back and enjoy the journey, Kelly said, her heart-shaped face in earnest.

It’s a forty-five minute drive, Emmy volunteered.

Anders drives a car, Kelly announced.

Anders turned in the front seat. I’m very accomplished for my tender years.

I’ll teach you how to drive the tractor, Wynn, Emmy said. She looked at her brother. It’s easy.

Emmy ran over Mom’s flowers, Kelly confided. Dad said she couldn’t drive the tractor for a week and to pay attention to where she was going.

Aunt Anne turned in her seat. Kelly, no telling tales now.

Okay, Mommy.

Emmy leaned over and whispered into Wynn’s ear, It’s true. I drove right through Mom’s irises. Not one of my better moments.

"And you want to teach me how to drive?" Wynn whispered back. The cousins broke into giggles.

Wynn grew more and more excited as city miles gave way to country. Horses and cattle dotted the dry landscape and the car passed a number of ranches with signs at the mailboxes. Sleepy J Ranch, read one, and in smaller letters, Horse Boarding and Lessons. Dry Bones Cattle Ranch read another. Is it always dry here? she wondered aloud.

Emmy nodded. It’s a little greener after the spring run-off, but not much.

Anders spoke up. We get snow in the mountains. Do you know how to ski?

Wynn shook her head.

She don’t know how to ride horses neither, Kelly contributed.

"Doesn’t and either," Aunt Anne corrected.

Take your time and learn the basics well, Anders suggested. Once you have a good seat, the rest will come easier.

Kelly regarded her. Can’t do nothin’ without a good seat. I’ll help teach ya.

Aunt Anne turned to Uncle Charles with a look of dismay. Kelly is picking up the workers’ poor English. I never realized it had gotten so bad.

Diego says my Spanish ain’t good neither, Kelly offered.

You have Spanish help? Wynn asked. The idea sounded exotic. Bennett’s had only one foreigner enrolled –a fair-haired girl from Sweden who attended while her father took sabbatical in the US.

Emmy nodded. You’ll meet Diego right off. He’s Dad’s foreman. The others kind of come and go. Our cook is Hispanic too.

Uncle Charles turned onto a gravel road and slowed.

Wynn returned to the window. Fenced pastures lined either side of the unmarked road. Her heart pulsed. Are we almost there?

Sit back and enjoy the journey, Kelly scolded.

Our place is at the end, Uncle Charles said.

Aunt Anne turned in her seat to smile at Wynn. Emmy can show you your room, dear. I hope you’ll be comfortable there.

Why does Emmy get to? Kelly complained. She’s my cousin too!

Wynn reached over and squeezed her hand. I’d like for you to show me things too.

Kelly bounced in her seat. I’ll show you Pokey!

Her pony, Emmy clarified.

As Uncle Charles had promised, nestled at the end of the long gravel road, a large hand-painted sign announced their arrival at Iron Hoof Ranch.

Chapter 2

Wynn was dying to see the ranch, but she dutifully heeded her aunt’s instruction to place her luggage in her bedroom first. She followed Emmy up a flight of stairs to the second floor and entered the room her cousin indicated.

Wynn’s breath caught in her throat. "This is my room?" The ceiling was open-beam with walls that slanted down and formed a cozy nook for the single bed nestled there. A red and brown hand-stitched quilt covered the mattresses and overstuffed pillow. Beside the bed stood a wooden dresser that doubled as a nightstand. It held a whimsical lamp with a shade designed like a cowboy hat. A line of brown pegs stretched across the short wall and a basket of potpourri hung from one. The air smelled of cedar and wildflowers.

It’s like a bunkhouse! Wynn exclaimed. She’d read about them in her books.

Emmy smiled. It’s our guest room.

Wynn set her luggage beside the bed and plopped down on the soft mattress. A long sigh escaped her lips. She looked at her cousin. "This is so perfect, Emmy. It’s the kind of bedroom I’ve always wanted. Exactly."

Emmy looked pleased. I have the other attic room. It’s across the hall.

Emmy’s room was identical, only her bed was full-size. Her quilt was deep blue and a braided rug the same color was on the wood floor beside it. We can sleep in the same room sometimes, Emmy said, her eyes alight. My bed is big enough for two. Sometimes I let Kelly sleep with me but she wiggles around something awful.

They went downstairs and she led Wynn through the kitchen where a large Hispanic woman stood over the stove. The stove had eight gas burners and food in various stages of preparation filled every burner but one. "Hola!" she greeted the girls. A smile crinkled the corners of her dark eyes.

Emmy returned the greeting, then said, Mom cooks on the weekends. Cookie has the kitchen the rest of the week. They walked into the dining area.

Cookie? Wynn repeated. Emmy, just like in books! The cook is always called Cookie!

I guess we aren’t very original. Cookie’s real name is Maria, but all the Hispanic women are named Maria so Mom says it simplifies things to call her something else.

The dining area was huge with a long table that stretched three-fourths the length of the room. Benches instead of chairs provided seating around the table. Light streamed through the large windows on one wall.

The ranch hands get a hot meal here on the weekdays, Emmy explained. Cookie serves them lunch around two o’clock. The family eats earlier and only uses one end of the table.

How many ranch hands are there? Wynn asked, unable to believe the entire table was filled during the week.

Emmy furrowed her forehead. It isn’t always the same, but I think around fifteen.

How many horses? It was all Wynn could do to keep from pushing her cousin outside to the barn.

I’ll show you—unless you want to see more of the house first. She grinned. The laundry room maybe?

"Emmy!"

Her cousin giggled. Okay, okay. I’ll show you the horses.

They walked outside, and Emmy led her down a gravel path away from the house. Since this is a cattle ranch, our horses are mostly for fun, she said. The hired hands use them sometimes but they usually ride the ATV’s instead.

Wynn was disappointed. What kind of cowboy would ride an ATV instead of a horse to round up cattle!

They passed Anders who was hunched over a tractor engine, a box of tools at his feet. He called out a greeting.

Wynn stopped, astonished. You know how to fix tractors?

Anders grinned. You got one that needs fixing?

She came closer and peered over his shoulder. How did you learn?

Dad says Anders can fix anything, Emmy told her.

I used to follow a hired hand around named Juan when I was a little guy, Anders explained. Must have driven him crazy but I learned a lot.

Wynn’s father took the car to a mechanic if it needed work done. She stared at the engine, amazed her cousin knew what to do. It looked complicated.

Anders spoke to his sister. Too bad for you, Em, but cousin Bronwyn has decided she’d rather learn tractors than horses. You’d best get used to the idea.

Wynn straightened, and took Emmy’s arm. "I can’t believe I got sidetracked. C’mon! Hurry!"

Sorry Anders, Emmy called over her shoulder and let Wynn pull her to the barn. She swung open the door and they walked inside.

Wynn stood stock-still. She couldn’t move.

What’s wrong? Emmy asked. She looked worried. Is it the smell? I’m used to it, but a lot of people can’t stand the smell of manure.

Oh, Emmy, she breathed. Horses! She couldn’t take her eyes away from the bay mare in the nearest stall.

Emmy giggled. C’mon. I’ll show you the one you get to ride. They’ve had their grain so we need to let them out to pasture.

They walked down the aisle of the barn which boasted eight horse stalls, a large open bay for cattle, a feed and tack room and a loft containing a dwindling number of hay bales. Hay season just started, Emmy explained. In the winter the mow is full. She lifted the latch of each occupied stall and swung open its gate. As each horse emerged, it walked down the barn aisle and outside to the adjoining pasture.

Emmy, you’re making me go too fast, Wynn protested. All these beautiful horses! It’s my best dream come true.

Emmy’s eyes were bright. She gave Wynn a hug. "And having you here for a