From School Library Journal
Grade 5-8. In Texas, the summer of 1865 is hot and dry and everyone suffers from the deprivations of the Civil War. Fourteen-year-old Alby Draper is sure that once his beloved Pa returns from the war everything will be all right again. But when his father comes home, he is psychological scarred, emotionally distant, and missing one leg. The boy yearns for their former closeness, but a young Confederate veteran who arrives with the man seems to have taken Alby's place. It is only when father and son are faced with the challenges of hunting and training wild horses in order to make enough money to keep their homestead that they are gradually able to mend their relationship. Wisler's depiction of a war-traumatized man rings true as does Alby's own pain and confusion when he realizes that his father is not the same man he once was. A sensitive yet action-filled story about repairing damaged lives and healing broken relationships.?Peggy Morgan, The Library Network, Wayne, NJ
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Gr. 5^-8. Thirteen-year-old Alby is relieved when his father returns home after the Civil War, but his relief quickly turns to despair. Pa, missing a leg and angry at the world, blames Alby for the wretched condition of the farm. With taxes on the farm coming due, Alby's father and uncle devise a scheme to capture and tame wild mustangs to sell to the army. Alby wants desperately to redeem himself in his father's eyes by helping with the horses, but he fears the project is more than they can manage. Wisler's latest historical fiction is more introspective than action packed, focusing mostly on the harsh realities and the aftermath of war. But as in Wisler's other stories, there are no quick or easy answers, just awkward attempts by common people to reestablish relationships after experiencing change. A solid story.
Karen Hutt
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
