By Scott O'Dell
Raised to take where of her useless brother, Carlota de Zubaran can do something that Carlos could have performed. She races her stallion via the California lowlands, dives into shark-infested waters searching for gold, and fights within the battles that rage among the Mexicans and the americans. At sixteen, she is fearless--and that pleases her father very much.
Yet whereas Carlota throughly enjoys her freedom, she desires to be more than her father's "son." She desires to be herself, courageous and brave yet loose to show feelings of tenderness and compassion in addition. Her father thinks such emotions are shameful, so Carlota must defy him. that would be the main difficult battle of all.
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Then flip at my sign and assault back, even so retreat. i've got little need to inform you the way to exploit the lance; being Spaniards, you recognize already. however it is definitely to recollect that you just experience low, within the type of the Indians, and strike for the physique, for the physique on my own. fast thrusts, extra if attainable. " i used to be sitting around the hearth from Don Andrés. without notice I felt chilly even though the logs have been gleaming sizzling. "Señorita," he acknowledged, having a look down at me, "there are seven horses to spare. those we are going to tie and installed your palms. you're to stay with them at a spot i'll exhibit you within the morning. " My father sat subsequent to me, muffled in his poncho. He groaned as Don Andrés spoke to me. He was once deliberating Carlos. He was once unhappy past using phrases that his son was once no longer there beside him, looking forward to the sunrise and the conflict. Overhead the fog had lifted a bit. i may see racing clouds and some stars. i used to be scared. I questioned if every person else used to be scared, too. 17 sunrise broke slowly. a chilly breeze moved in the course of the brush, however the valley under us used to be shrouded in mist. We had stored logs burning during the evening and, having saddled the horses and positioned every little thing in readiness, we waited round the fireplace. Don Andrés stated to me, pointing down the valley, "Over opposed to the hill is a clump of oaks. " He waited until eventually I made them out in the course of the mist. "Take seven horses and trip now and fast. Tether the horses there, within the timber, up to attainable out of sight of the enemy. " He paused and glanced over at my stallion. "It could be higher in case you trip whatever more uncomplicated to deal with. one of many spare geldings, say. " "I can deal with the stallion," I stated. "In conflict? " "Anywhere," I acknowledged, although i used to be unsure. "In conflict or out of conflict. " "Very well," Don Andrés acknowledged, giving me a curious glance. "Buena suerte. " "Thank you, sir, in your want of fine luck," I stated. "Por nada," Don Andrés acknowledged. The seven horses we tied one to the opposite. I stated so long to my father and led the horses at a short trot out of the camp to the clump of timber opposed to the hill. The solar shone someplace past the mountain rim, yet the following less than, the mist was once chilly and heavy. I sat on Tiburón and stored my eyes at the position, which used to be within sight, the place the path led out of the canyon. far flung i'll see the hearth of our camp and the lads status round it. I heard no sound, not anything, because the first gringo rode out of the comb. He used to be seated on a small grey horse and he had braid on his hat and on his shoulders. He held the reins in a single hand. A scabbard and sword hung from his saddle horn. I had no notion then, as he rode slowly previous me, that he used to be normal Kearny of the yank military. From the place I stood below the oak timber on a bit upward push, the valley stretched earlier than me. On my correct hand used to be the slim ravine down which normal Kearny got here and his officials and males could come. The ravine led right into a valley, off to my left, that used to be approximately 3 leagues in size and a few league in width, shallow and rolling. A flow that wandered via it was once marked via willows and sycamore bushes.