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.They might act kind of wild.But we can welcome them.Mama, is there any apple butter left?”Mama spread bread thickly with apple butter.Sam took a piece and walked slowly down to the gate.He was going to take it very easy.He would not be disappointed if King wasn’t friendly right away.But King was leaning farther over the gate, reaching out with his lips, ready to nuzzle up the treat Sam was holding.Sam laughed.“Oh, King,” he said.“I’m glad you’re back.Do you mind being King? It’s your new name.”King pushed against the gate again and looked straight at him.“I guess it’s all right with you,” said Sam.Goldie and Pete came over wanting a treat, too, and Josie and Matt were ready with more bread and apple butter.Mama came to rub the noses of all the horses.“It does seem right to have them back,” she said.“We’ll let them in but we’ll have to tie them to the fence until the laundry is dry.You children can bring them some oats.They must be hungry.”Josie and Matt brought oats in pails and Sam got the curry comb.King looked a bit thin, but he was still sturdy.His coat was thick and rough, almost shaggy.A coat for a prairie winter.Sam worked for a long time combing out the tangles and burrs.Mama came out to check the laundry.“I wonder why he came home now,” she said.“I think he saw the laundry,” said Matt.“It’s like flags.Maybe it reminded him of us.”“I think he got to remembering home after he saw Sam and Pa,” said Josie.“What do you think, Sam?”Sam looked at King standing there so calmly.He remembered this horse racing across the prairie leading the herd with his mane flying.“I think he wanted to come home when he decided to come.He didn’t want to be brought.Did you, King?”King nickered a little and nuzzled Sam’s shoulder.“He seems to like his new name,” said Josie.“It’s kind of funny how easy it was to change to King.”“That’s because it’s the right name,” said Sam.“Mama, could I go for a ride?”Mama hesitated.Then she smiled.“Yes,” she said.“But don’t go far.Remember, King has to get used to our ways again.”Sam knew she, too, was thinking of a wild horse galloping across the prairie.But King seemed perfectly happy to canter gently along.As they went west along the wagon track, Sam thought of all the places they could go.All the places they would go.The pond, the buffalo wallow, the little valley, Gregor’s house.And town.And school.Maybe he would find more buffalo skulls or something even better.There was no telling.Sam looked at the blue sky and at the newly green prairie grass.Suddenly he saw that the grass was so thick with tiny purple flowers that it seemed to reflect the sky.“Oh, King,” said Sam.“If we rode straight on maybe the earth would just melt into the sky.”But instead of heading for the sky, Sam and King turned around and headed home.Author’s NoteTICKET TO CURLEW was inspired by stories my father, Roger Barker, told me about his early years in Alberta.His father, Guy Barker, had bought land south of Provost when it was opened up by the railroad, and in 1915 the family went to live and farm on that land.My father was a very good storyteller and his tales of finding buffalo skulls out on the prairie, of helping his father build a house for the family to live in and, especially, the stories of his horse stayed in the back of my mind as I grew up.These stories were awakened when I lived in Regina, Saskatchewan, under the prairie sky, as Writer in Residence at the Regina Public Library, and I decided that they would be a good basis for a novel.The town of Curlew is based on Provost but it is a fictional town, named after a bird that lives in the prairie grasses.Similarly, the family is somewhat like my father’s family but the Ferriers come out of my imagination.The horse, however, is as true to my father’s real horse as I could make him.In gathering more material for the novel I especially benefited from reading the early issues of the Provost Star (now the Provost News), from my mother’s memories of more of my father’s stories and from the horse expertise of my friend, Taryn de Vos [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]