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Date Posted: 13:54:34 10/30/03 Thu
Author: Thiago
Subject: Writing 4

It's a huge text, but I think it is ok.

"Lost in The Wild, Wild West"
It was the summer, and my dad wanted to treat me to a vacation like never before. He decided to take me on a trip to the wild, wild west.

We took a plane to Albuquerque, a big city in the state of New Mexico. We reached Albuquerque in the late afternoon. Uncle Paul, my dad's friend, picked us up from the airport and drove us up to his ranch in Pecos.

His wife Tina cooked us a delicious dinner and we got to know his sons Ryan and Kyle. My dad and I spent the night in the guestroom listening to the crickets, owls, and coyotes. Very early in the morning, uncle Paul woke us up to have breakfast. "The day starts at dawn on my ranch" he said. After breakfast, I went to help aunt Tina feed the chickens, while my dad went with uncle Paul to take the sheep out to graze. I was impressed to see my dad and uncle Paul riding horses, they looked really cool.

In the afternoon, I asked uncle Paul if I could take a horse ride, and he said yes, as long as my dad went with me. I wasn't going to take a horse ride by myself anyway. So, my dad and I put on our new cowboy hats, got on our horses, and headed slowly towards the mountains. "Don't be late for supper" uncle Paul cried "and keep to the trail so that you don't get lost". "OK" my dad cried back. After a while we could hardly see uncle Paul and his farm house. It was so peaceful and quiet and the colors of the brown rocks, the deep green pine trees, and the late afternoon sun blended to create a majestic scene. It looked like a beautiful woven blanket spread out upon the ground just for us.

Suddenly a little coyote jumped out in front of my horse and startled him. He was so startled, he took off running faster than I imagined he could. I was holding on as hard as I could and my dad was trying to keep up with me. My horse got off the trail and kept running, and only stopped once it reached the river. It seems the water must have calmed him down a bit. It was a beautiful spot and as frightened as I was just a few minutes earlier, I was happy that I got a chance to see such a place.

My dad thought it was gorgeous too, but he said that we had to leave because the sun was setting and he did not want us to get lost. We had left the trail and we did not have a compass. The last thing we wanted was to try to find our way home in the dark. We turned around to start back but the trail was nowhere in sight. The frightened horse had run so fast and so far that we had no idea where we were. By now the sun had almost dipped behind the horizon and we had to think fast, so we...
… we decided to follow the horse’s footmark on the ground, so we could find our way back. We were in a very closed forest and the ground was almost all covered with dry leaves. Besides, it was getting darker and the sun was disappearing very fast. My dad picked up a piece of dry branch on the ground and kindled it with his lighter, then we could see what was happening before us.

I was scared and crying when my dad said there was nothing to worry about. He said everything was going to be fine and soon we would be at uncle Paul’s eating a delicious supper. I was almost feeling comfortable when suddenly we started to listen to a different sound. It seemed a scream. At first I thought it was the coyote yelling, but then I recognized that it was not the coyote cry, but a song. My dad said it was the cry of natives. I was even more scared, because Ryan had told me the story of cannibal Indians that lived near the rocks. The sound was getting louder and louder and I was desperate. My dad said we should not be afraid, because Ryan’s story was not true. He said that there weren’t cannibals in that region, and the natives were our friends, but I didn’t feel comfortable. I thought my dad was telling that just because he didn’t want to see me desperate.

Suddenly we saw firelights coming towards us. I cried out loud as I had never cried in my whole life when I saw the face of that native running towards me. I cried, “Dad, let’s get out of here now!”, and I prepared to run when someone held me very tight. I was backwards to the person who was holding me, and I thought it was one of the Indians, so I yelled, “Let me go!” and stamped on his foot. Then I herd a very familiar voice saying, “calm down, young boy! It’s me”.

The person who was holding me was uncle Paul. He had asked for the native’s help to find us, because he had suspected we had lost the way back home. He was right, and so was my dad when he said the natives were our friends. We went back to uncle Paul’s house with the help of the natives who knew those lands very well, even in the dark.

When we reached uncle Paul’s house we thanked the natives and I apologized them. They said it was ok, and uncle Paul invited them to our supper. However, they refused the invitation and went back to their tribe. From that moment on I have no longer been afraid of natives. Besides, my father and I learned an important lesson that day: keep away form little coyotes, because they can change your course with a simple jump.

Peer editing: Leandra

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