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The Dust Bowl #1 [Paperback]

$8.99       (Free Shipping)
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  • Category: Books (Juvenile Fiction)
  • Author:  Corpora, Michelle Jab?s
  • Author:  Corpora, Michelle Jab?s
  • ISBN-10:  0593225252
  • ISBN-10:  0593225252
  • ISBN-13:  9780593225257
  • ISBN-13:  9780593225257
  • Publisher:  Penguin Workshop
  • Publisher:  Penguin Workshop
  • Pages:  160
  • Pages:  160
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-May-2021
  • Pub Date:  01-May-2021
  • SKU:  0593225252-11-SPLV
  • SKU:  0593225252-11-SPLV
  • Item ID: 105436301
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Oct 06 to Oct 08
  • Notes: Brand New Item. Not shipped to AK, HI, APO, FPO, AE.
Set in the 1930s Oklahoma, this American Horse Tale is the story of a young girl who makes the difficult decision to leave her family and move to California so she can stay with her horse.

A young girl named Ginny and her family are dealing with the hardships of the Great Depression, and in order to survive, her dad decides they must sell their horse, and Ginny's best friend, Thimble. But Ginny will do anything in order to find a way for them to stay together, and chooses to leave her family in Oklahoma and travel west to California. The Dust Bowl is part of a series of books written by several authors highlighting the unique relationships between young girls and their horses.Michelle Jabès Corpora is a writer, editor, community organizer, and martial artist. In addition to working in the publishing industry for more than a dozen years as an editor and concept developer, she has ghostwritten five novels in a long-running middle grade mystery series. American Horse Tales: The Dust Bowl is Michelle's first novel under her own name. Her second novel, The Fog of War: Martha Gellhorn at the D-Day Landings (Pushkin Press), also publishes in 2021.Chapter 1: A Nice Day for a Ride

 
Keyes, Oklahoma
 
July 1936
 
I stood out by the barn, the paint peeling off it like an old snakeskin. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, deep breath. Most days, the air was chock-full of dust, but that afternoon it was real clear. Full of nothing but sunlight and the smell of Ma’s Ivory Snow laundry soap. I smiled.
 
“Ready, boy?” I asked, a leather lead in my hand.
 
At the other end of the lead, my horse, Thimble, looked over at me. He was light gray with jet black stockings, but since he ainls+
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