Horse of the Four Winds

By Nancy Sanderson

When Kate Garlands father is kidnapped in Mexico, she and her mother are forced to sell everything to meet the ransom demands. From spacious Fairydell Farm in Southern Californias Orange Park Acres, they must move to a small house in Riverside County and hope for Dr. Jim Garlands safe return.

After months of anxious waiting, Kate meets mysterious Zane McAlister, the man her mother has hired to rescue her father. Kate thinks he looks like a bandito and doesnt trust him. Is he in cahoots with the kidnappers?

And what of Tinkerbelle, her beloved Arabian mare? She is the last of the Garland purebreds. Will Kate have to sacrifice her as well?

Desperate for money, Kate finds work at a nearby riding stable that is situated on land once part of a huge Spanish grant owned by the De la Costas. There, her life becomes strangely intertwined with the history of this old Californio family in ways she couldnt have imagined.

Do the De la Costas have the key to securing Dr. Garlands release? Join Kate and her new friends, Maria Leon and Airyn Murdock, as her life takes one strange turn after another.

Continuing her Summer Horse series, award-winning author, Nancy Sanderson, has added another element to her favorite theme of girls and their horses California history. In Horse of the Four Winds, readers will learn about the Leather-jacket Spanish soldiers who settled the Golden State in the 1700s and how their descendants left their mark on the states history.

Front cover art by Stacey Mayer

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463448011

Nancy Sanderson

Nancy Sanderson has written five books about girls and their horses: Summer of the Spanish Horse; Summer of the Spotted Horse; Summer of the Painted Horse; Summer of the Dancing Horse and Horse of the Four Winds. Summer of the Painted Horse won first prize for Children’s Literature in the 2010 Arizona Author’s Association Literary Competition, and Summer of the Spotted Horse took third prize in the 2005 contest. While each book is an independent story, there are many recurring people and places throughout the “Summer Horse” series. Currently working on book six, Sanderson lives in Yuma, Arizona, with her husband, Tom, her Aunt Kelly and a rescued black Miniature Poodle named Polly.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

HORSE OF THE FOUR WINDS

It is written that when God created the Arabian Horse,

He said,

"You shall have spirit from the North Wind,

You shall have strength from the South Wind,

You shall have speed from the East wind,

And you shall have intelligence from the West Wind.

Men shall follow you wherever you go,

And you shall fly without wings.

- A Bedouin Legend -

Chapter I

No way! No way! No way! No way! Kate Garland’s thoughts seemed to echo the rhythm of her bike pedals as she sped across the river bridge with grim determination. She was flat flying. All she needed was a long gray dress and a frumpy hat to be nasty old Miss Gulch racing away with Dorothy’s dog, Toto, trapped in a basket behind the seat. And Kate’s face looked just as mean. She gritted her teeth. No one’s selling my horse!

Turning sharply off the highway onto Rancho Riding Stable’s gravel driveway, she misjudged the steepness of the hill and went sailing down the road wishing for a runaway truck ramp. And there it was - a big pile of wood shavings next to a large barn. She braked hard, the tires squealed and threw some gravel, and Kate found herself sailing tush over teakettle into the shavings. She remembered her first riding instructor’s safety tips, If you roll, you won’t get hurt. If I roll, I won’t get hurt. Her hands hit the pile, and she tucked and somersaulted into the shavings. Her scream was cut short by a mouthful of sawdust.

A tall chunky woman, wearing an oversized denim shirt and jeans, came running out of the stable office shouting, What the heck!

At the same time, Kate saw a red merle Australian Shepherd streaking out of the barn. He was barking, but she noticed with some relief that he was wagging his stubby tail furiously.

As the woman reached her, Kate sat up, blew the shavings out of her mouth and blurted out, I need a job. She shook her head, and wood chips flew in all directions. To save my horse, she gasped, making an effort to catch her breath.

The dog jumped on the shavings pile and proceeded to lick Kate’s chin, and she had to laugh in spite of her embarrassment.

The woman’s dark eyes sparkled with merriment, and she reached her hand down to Kate. I’m Lori Mathews, she said with a smile, and I guess I’d just have to make a job offer to someone who made such a spectacular entrance. Are you okay?

Kate liked Lori immediately. With her ready smile, well-worn ranch clothes and curly brunette ponytail, she looked, well, just down to earth and friendly.

I’m fine. My name is Kate, and I’m really sorry about making a mess. The bike just got away from me. She took Lori’s hand and pulled herself up, brushing the rest of the shavings off her jeans and her Levi jacket. The dog shook out his fur and put his paws on her leg to be petted.

Wyatt! Off! Lori commanded, and the dog obeyed instantly, sitting quietly at her feet. So why do you need a job so desperately?

My mom says we can’t afford to feed my horse anymore, Kate said, embarrassed to have to admit they were poor.

Well, what can you do? Can you muck out stalls and clean corrals?

Muck out stalls? That had always been Lorenzo’s job at the Garland farm in Orange Park Acres. Kate sighed. I’m already raking Tink’s corral. Reality check. The old life is over; the farm is sold. This is today.

I’ve been riding and showing since I was four, Kate offered. I thought maybe you needed a riding instructor or a trail guide.

Sorry, honey, but I’m the only riding instructor this place can afford right now.

And I’m the trail guide, said a tall, dark-haired boy as he emerged from the barn. He was wearing Wranglers, rubber work boots and a tee-shirt that said, I’d rather be roping. He pulled Kate’s bike out of the shavings and straightened the handlebars, holding the front wheel between his legs. As he worked on the bike, he looked up at Kate.

I’m Lori’s son, Jason. Nice landing you had there. He stifled a grin. If you could do it again, I’ll get my video camera. Then he burst out laughing. "You could be on America’s Funniest Videos." That ticked her off.

She glared at the boy. I’m Kate, and I assure you I didn’t do that on purpose.

Jason laughed again and tipped up the brim of his John Deere cap. Kate? That’s a princess name. He popped the kickstand down and parked the bike. Then, he offered her the rake he had been carrying. But can a princess do ordinary work?

She snatched the rake out of his hand. I’m not a princess, and I’m not afraid of hard work if it’ll keep my mom from selling my horse.

She looked wistful for just a moment. She had been a princess once, last year at the Homecoming Game. Being chosen for the Homecoming Court had been a big surprise for Kate. She never considered herself a beauty, but she guessed enough people thought she was cute and perky to elect her. You look gorgeous, Princess, her father had said as he snapped her picture.

She sighed as memories of riding on a float in the parade wearing a long white dress and a rhinestone tiara came to mind. Quickly, she brushed those thoughts away. She didn’t want to, just couldn’t, think about her father right now. She looked back at the tall boy just as he turned to leave. He was still grinning from ear to ear.

Imagine, he called out over his shoulder, a red-haired, freckle-faced princess. You look more like a cheerleader to me. He sauntered back toward the barn, picking up a stick and tossing it to the dog that was following him.

Kate looked back at Lori. Guess he has me pegged, she said with a resigned smile. I was a cheerleader at my old school in Orange County.

Oh don’t pay any attention to Jason, Lori said. My son’s just a big tease. You can’t let him get to you or he’ll never give up. Park that rake and come on into the office. We’ll get your paperwork started.

You mean I actually have a job? Kate asked hopefully.

Sure, if you’re willing to clean corrals and do a dozen other disagreeable chores around here.

Kate wanted to shout, Woo hoo! She simply said, thank you and followed the woman into the office. She had a job; she could pay for hay and grain. Tinkerbelle, her beloved Arabian mare, would be safe.

* * *

Inside the office was a world quite different from the modern pipe corrals and riding arena of the stable. It was like a museum of Old California with an ornately-carved, heavy Spanish desk in one corner and a quaint old fireplace built into another. The floor was red tile and the walls were Navajo white. Large wooden beams ran across the ceiling, and the windows were recessed at least two feet, attesting to the thickness of the walls. They were so thick in fact, that a large bookcase had been hollowed out of the wall next to the desk. A set of what appeared to be leather-bound law books took up several shelves.

Two leather-upholstered armchairs flanked a round table on which stood a beautiful antique kerosene lamp with a flowered glass shade trimmed with crystal prisms. Mounted on the wall above a vintage sofa were a dozen black and white photos of men and women on horseback. They were wearing vintage-looking clothing from the 1800s. The ladies sat sidesaddle wearing long dresses, and the men were dressed similar to modern-day Mexican charros.

They almost look like they’re dressed for a horse show costume class, Kate said, scanning the gallery.

Oh no, Lori assured her, they’re the real deal, my family.

Wow! Kate exclaimed. Do you know who they all are?

Lori looked up from the desk where she had been rummaging through a stack of papers. The big painting over the fireplace is my third great-grandfather, Juan de la Costa, and the pictures are of his descendants. The man on the left is Carlos de la Costa, my great-great grandfather, and Margarita, his wife. The pictures on the right are of Jose and Lorena de la Costa, my great-grandparents. The small photos at the top are Jose’s children. There is a beautiful oil painting of my grandfather, Antonio de la Costa, at my cousin Cynthia’s house. She lives on the big ranch next door, Las Palmas.

Awesome! We’ve got some neat old pictures of my folk’s ancestors, but they all lived in Virginia. I’ve never seen any of their old houses or farms or anything. Yours lived right here in California. Lucky you. She glanced around the room. Your house looks old-fashioned too.

"It is. Despite the upkeep, it is kind of fun to live in a house that’s been around for 150