In the fall of 1846, when José Rodriquez turns twelve, his papa says next spring he must help tame Rancho Grande’s wild colts. He knew
this day would come. For on the Alta California rancho, being a vaquero and training horses was his family’s tradition. Vaqueros’
horsemanship and roping skills were legendary and their lives full of danger. Many vaqueros had been killed or crippled while riding the
mustangs. Did he have enough courage to ride the wild ones and measure up to his papa’s expectations?
Worried, José decides only luck will help him be fearless enough to ride the wild colts, luck he will get from a pair silver spurs and chaps
made from a brave bull’s hide. But he has no money. How can he buy silver spurs? Then the Mexican-American war starts. And a few days
before Christmas, Colonel John C. Fremont’s battalion camps on Rancho Grande and everything changes.
Based on true events, Spurs for José brims with action and excitement as a young vaquero goes on an unforgettable adventure.
this day would come. For on the Alta California rancho, being a vaquero and training horses was his family’s tradition. Vaqueros’
horsemanship and roping skills were legendary and their lives full of danger. Many vaqueros had been killed or crippled while riding the
mustangs. Did he have enough courage to ride the wild ones and measure up to his papa’s expectations?
Worried, José decides only luck will help him be fearless enough to ride the wild colts, luck he will get from a pair silver spurs and chaps
made from a brave bull’s hide. But he has no money. How can he buy silver spurs? Then the Mexican-American war starts. And a few days
before Christmas, Colonel John C. Fremont’s battalion camps on Rancho Grande and everything changes.
Based on true events, Spurs for José brims with action and excitement as a young vaquero goes on an unforgettable adventure.
“Who’s out there?” he shouted. No one answered.
Amigo’s body tensed. Something must be outside. José hoped it wasn’t a grizzly looking for shelter. “Who’s there?” he
screamed louder, hoping his voice would scare away whatever was out there.
Despite the noisy storm, he heard gravelly footsteps. Something had entered the cave. “Who is it?” José called out again.
A voice replied, “Who’s in here?”
“Who are you?”
“It’s Pedro. Is that you, José?”
“Pedro, are you following me?” José pretended he was angry, but was secretly glad he and Amigo were no longer alone.
“I was trying to catch up with Fremont’s army when this storm hit,” Pedro said.
Pedro’s teeth chattered from the cold and wet. Flashes of lightning lighted the cave, and he could see Pedro’s dripping,
wet hair and sopping shirt. José was just as soggy. “Get closer to Amigo. He’ll keep you warm.”
In the dark, Pedro edged around the trembling horse and stood closer to José. The boys leaned against Amigo, finding
comfort from the horse’s warm body and each other’s company.
“Why are you here?” Pedro asked.
“I was going to join Fremont’s vaqueros, too. Where is your horse?”
“He fell in the darkness. The reins slipped out of my hands and he disappeared. I saw this cave and thought it would be
a good place to stay dry. I’ve never seen it rain like this. I hope it stops soon. The war will be over before I catch up with
Fremont.”
“Papa says it’s not our fight. Why do you want to join Fremont’s army?” José asked.
“For the money Fremont is paying vaqueros. If I earn enough money, maybe someday, if I save it, I could buy a little
rancho.”
“You are a blacksmith, not a vaquero.”
“Maybe so. But I have a horse, and Fremont won’t know the difference. Besides, he may need a blacksmith, too.”
“Seems you don’t have a horse now,” José said.
“I’ll find him in the morning after this rain stops.”
“You have big dreams. Owning a rancho? Me, with the twenty-five dollars, I want to buy a pair of spurs like the ranchero
wears. A pair of beautiful silver spurs, that is all I want.” It seemed strange. A day ago, he had been mad enough to
punch Pedro’s jaw. But now, in the scary darkness, something had changed, and they were again talking like friends.
“You vaqueros love fancy bits and shiny spurs. I can make silver spurs for you. Wearing the beautiful spurs I make will
be lucky, and you will become the greatest horse trainer in all of Alta California.”
“The greatest horse trainer?” To be the greatest horse trainer in Alta California had never entered José’s mind. He just
needed silver spurs to bring him luck and help him be brave enough to ride the wild, bucking colts and make his papa
proud. That would be enough to make José happy.
Tired, the boys sat down, leaned against the cold, stony wall and fell asleep. When they woke, it was Christmas morning.
It was quiet outside. The rain had stopped. In the dawn’s light, they saw strange patterns painted on the cave’s rocky
walls.
“Look,” José said, pointing at the brightly painted designs decorating the cave. “These must be the sacred paintings
Tomas said our people painted long ago. They are strange. That one looks like a snake, and that one like the sun. What
do they mean?”
Pedro stood and reached up to trace the painted lines with his finger. “I’ve heard of these paintings, but have never
seen them.”
“Don’t touch them! Tomas says they’re sacred. Spirits are here. That is why our ancestors painted this cave.” José knelt
and whispered a prayer the padre had taught him. He no longer knew the prayers of the people who had painted the
cave. “Our ancestors must have guided us here to protect us and help us on our journey. We should leave this cave and
hurry to catch up with Fremont.” He stood and led Amigo out of the cave. “Let’s go.”
Amigo’s body tensed. Something must be outside. José hoped it wasn’t a grizzly looking for shelter. “Who’s there?” he
screamed louder, hoping his voice would scare away whatever was out there.
Despite the noisy storm, he heard gravelly footsteps. Something had entered the cave. “Who is it?” José called out again.
A voice replied, “Who’s in here?”
“Who are you?”
“It’s Pedro. Is that you, José?”
“Pedro, are you following me?” José pretended he was angry, but was secretly glad he and Amigo were no longer alone.
“I was trying to catch up with Fremont’s army when this storm hit,” Pedro said.
Pedro’s teeth chattered from the cold and wet. Flashes of lightning lighted the cave, and he could see Pedro’s dripping,
wet hair and sopping shirt. José was just as soggy. “Get closer to Amigo. He’ll keep you warm.”
In the dark, Pedro edged around the trembling horse and stood closer to José. The boys leaned against Amigo, finding
comfort from the horse’s warm body and each other’s company.
“Why are you here?” Pedro asked.
“I was going to join Fremont’s vaqueros, too. Where is your horse?”
“He fell in the darkness. The reins slipped out of my hands and he disappeared. I saw this cave and thought it would be
a good place to stay dry. I’ve never seen it rain like this. I hope it stops soon. The war will be over before I catch up with
Fremont.”
“Papa says it’s not our fight. Why do you want to join Fremont’s army?” José asked.
“For the money Fremont is paying vaqueros. If I earn enough money, maybe someday, if I save it, I could buy a little
rancho.”
“You are a blacksmith, not a vaquero.”
“Maybe so. But I have a horse, and Fremont won’t know the difference. Besides, he may need a blacksmith, too.”
“Seems you don’t have a horse now,” José said.
“I’ll find him in the morning after this rain stops.”
“You have big dreams. Owning a rancho? Me, with the twenty-five dollars, I want to buy a pair of spurs like the ranchero
wears. A pair of beautiful silver spurs, that is all I want.” It seemed strange. A day ago, he had been mad enough to
punch Pedro’s jaw. But now, in the scary darkness, something had changed, and they were again talking like friends.
“You vaqueros love fancy bits and shiny spurs. I can make silver spurs for you. Wearing the beautiful spurs I make will
be lucky, and you will become the greatest horse trainer in all of Alta California.”
“The greatest horse trainer?” To be the greatest horse trainer in Alta California had never entered José’s mind. He just
needed silver spurs to bring him luck and help him be brave enough to ride the wild, bucking colts and make his papa
proud. That would be enough to make José happy.
Tired, the boys sat down, leaned against the cold, stony wall and fell asleep. When they woke, it was Christmas morning.
It was quiet outside. The rain had stopped. In the dawn’s light, they saw strange patterns painted on the cave’s rocky
walls.
“Look,” José said, pointing at the brightly painted designs decorating the cave. “These must be the sacred paintings
Tomas said our people painted long ago. They are strange. That one looks like a snake, and that one like the sun. What
do they mean?”
Pedro stood and reached up to trace the painted lines with his finger. “I’ve heard of these paintings, but have never
seen them.”
“Don’t touch them! Tomas says they’re sacred. Spirits are here. That is why our ancestors painted this cave.” José knelt
and whispered a prayer the padre had taught him. He no longer knew the prayers of the people who had painted the
cave. “Our ancestors must have guided us here to protect us and help us on our journey. We should leave this cave and
hurry to catch up with Fremont.” He stood and led Amigo out of the cave. “Let’s go.”
| Excerpt for A Spurs for José |
Fiction-Young Adult/Western
Whimsical Publications,
LLC/paperback, 88 pages
November 2011
$6.95
ISBN-13: 978-1-936167-53-1
Whimsical Publications,
LLC/paperback, 88 pages
November 2011
$6.95
ISBN-13: 978-1-936167-53-1
| Click here to purchase the e-book |
| Spurs for José Wanda Snow Porter |
| Orders over $25 qualify for free shipping. |
| Reviews for Spurs for José |
Comment/review = I read Spurs for Jose in about two hours. Loved the story. It took me to a world I knew little about.
Twelve year old Jose comes from a line of vaqureos. When informed by this father that it is time for him to take part in
the gentleing and training of the new colts, he is excited and frightened at the same time. Being a vaquroe can be
dangerous. He knows of many who have been crippled or killed. Jose also doesn't want to shame his family name.
Like other boys of the same age he ponders ways to solve his problem, running away being one solution, another is
having s pair of silver spurs for good luck.
Ms. Porter took me into a bygone age when California was still a part of Mexico. To a life of cattle ranches and vaquroes.
Spurs for Jose is intended for children in middle school, but I enjoyed it for its peak into history and a lifestyle new to me.
I think you will too.
Amazon review by: Barbara M. Hodges
Rating: 5 stars
Twelve year old Jose comes from a line of vaqureos. When informed by this father that it is time for him to take part in
the gentleing and training of the new colts, he is excited and frightened at the same time. Being a vaquroe can be
dangerous. He knows of many who have been crippled or killed. Jose also doesn't want to shame his family name.
Like other boys of the same age he ponders ways to solve his problem, running away being one solution, another is
having s pair of silver spurs for good luck.
Ms. Porter took me into a bygone age when California was still a part of Mexico. To a life of cattle ranches and vaquroes.
Spurs for Jose is intended for children in middle school, but I enjoyed it for its peak into history and a lifestyle new to me.
I think you will too.
Amazon review by: Barbara M. Hodges
Rating: 5 stars
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