MY DADDY IS A COWBOY
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Abrams Books for Young Readers New York
words by STEPHANIE SEALES
pictures by C. G. ESPERANZA
Daddy wakes me up before the sun, quietly because my little brother is still asleep, and so is Mommy.
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But Abuelita is awake. She always wakes up first. The strong smell of her coffee wafts through the house, just like every other morning.
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But this morning isn’t like every other morning, it’s different. Today, we get to ride together— just me and Daddy.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Abuelita hands me a brown bag with apple slices. I say thank you and kiss her papery cheek goodbye.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
The sky is midnight black, and the stars are still twinkling. Everything is closed this early; all the stores are dark and empty. It feels like a different world than in the daytime when things are bright and busy and full of life. It’s a new kind of quiet.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Anyone might confuse the ranch where the horses live for just a regular house, but in the backyard there are stalls and stalls of horses.
I run up to Power, Daddy’s mare, and pet her soft, velvety black nose. After I feed Power the apple slices I brought, she noses my hand hoping for more, but I’m saving the rest for Clover, the pony I ride. This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
While Daddy gets Power’s brushes, I tell Clover I’m happy to see her. She nuzzles my pockets, quick to sniff out the apple slices. I love the feeling of her mane. It looks kind of like the hay she eats but feels softer. I bet she’s wondering why I’m here so early.
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Daddy says we’re riding early so that we can have “just us” time, and also so we don’t have to worry about cars and trucks and things.
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Daddy usually rides around town on weekends with the other cowboys. I usually ride at the ranch after school with the other kids. But today we ride together, and today I get to ride on the street, like a cowboy.
And if I’m lucky, people will see us ride and we’ll make them smile like the cowboys do when they ride around town.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
We brush and saddle Power and Clover together.
I gather all the tack and hand Daddy each piece— I know the right order because I’ve been practicing.
We’re always gentle with our horses.
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Daddy says, “Cowboys respect horses.” I respect horses, and I’m grateful that they let us ride.
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Daddy’s strong arms lift me right onto Clover’s back. Then, quick as a wink, Daddy is on Power, and we ride out onto the street.
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Now the sky is deep ocean blue instead of midnight black.
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Most houses are dark and still, but a few have lights on. Their windows look like they have stars shining behind their curtains.
“Early birds,” Daddy says, and we laugh together, imagining birds living inside the houses, tweeting softly to each other.
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Soon the real birds are out as the sky lightens a bit more.
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We pass my favorite panaderia, and the sky is like the layered cakes they have there—dark blue at the top, lighter blue in the middle, and just turning golden on the horizon.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
We pass Mommy’s favorite coffee shop and the place where Abuelita sends money to her sister, who lives in the city where they grew up in Panama.
We ride slowly through the neighborhood, and Daddy tells me cowboy stories in his quiet voice. I have to ride closer to hear him. Daddy’s voice is deep but never loud.
I listen closely and only interrupt five times to ask questions.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Daddy started riding when he was my age. The cowboys he rides with on the weekends are the same ones he learned to ride with when he was little.
They’ve been friends forever. And Daddy’s been riding Power for most of that time! I whisper “thank you” to Power for carrying Daddy for so many years.
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Daddy says riding helped him feel stronger, safer, and happier.
I know what Daddy means because I feel that way when I ride. Tall. High as the clouds. Strong as a horse’s back.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Like a cowboy.
I look up at the sky; it’s getting lighter. It’s swirly sherbet colors now: pink, yellow, orange, and still some blue. Our town is waking up!
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Some stores are open now, their windows’ wide eyes looking out on the day. A few people drive by; they point and smile and wave. Cowboys are famous around here. They make people happy.
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I wave back and sit a little straighter in my saddle. Daddy winks at me, and I smile.
I love bringing smiles to people’s faces, just like cowboys do.
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Clover is steady and keeps trotting along, but I can tell Power likes to be admired— she tosses her black mane and neighs, showing off.
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When we get back to the ranch, a few other cowboys stream into the yard.
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They all call greetings and wave— I know each of them and their horses, too.
The day is just starting for them, but for me the best part has already happened.
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Daddy and I drive back home so he can drop me off before his regular Saturday morning ride with the other cowboys.
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People walk the streets, and there are more cars and bikes on the road. The sky is blue and light enough that I can see wispy clouds.
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When we get home, I give Daddy a hug and a big kiss on the cheek. His beard is scratchy, but I don’t mind. I say, “Thank you, gracias.”
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He smiles and asks what my favorite part was. I take a minute to think about it.
Was it the feel of Power’s velvety nose or Clover’s hay-silk mane? Was it the changing sky colors or the early morning quiet?
All those things were great, but I know what my favorite was. “Just us time!” I answer and Daddy hugs me tight.
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My Daddy is a cowboy . . .
And so am I.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
