I guess I should start off by telling you about myself. My real name is Andrea Rose Carter, but please don't call me that! Only my mother and my teacher call me "Andrea." When I hear that name, I figure I'm in trouble. And it sounds like such a ladylike name. I'm much more suited to "Andi." My brothers and sisters, all the ranch hands, and my friends call me "Andi." I know, I know, it sounds like a boy's name (Andy), but that doesn't bother me, even though sometimes I get teased about it.OK, let's see. I have long, wavy dark hair and blue eyes. When I was little, I got tired of my hair getting in my way, so I cut it off. I'll never do that again (I got my backside tanned good and proper when my mother found out what I'd done). Along with a California tan (since I have a hard time remembering to keep my hat on), a few pesky freckles sprinkle my nose. My sister Melinda says it's my own fault--I could avoid the freckles and the sunburns if I wore my hat. I don't listen to her much.
Besides riding and racing my horse, Taffy, I like to fish. I try really hard to do the right thing, but I'm always plunging into some kind of problem because I don't think things through before I act. I get caught up in the excitement of life or with helping someone, and before I know it I'm in a fix. My brother Chad is always pulling me out of some kind of trouble, and it riles him. He and I don't get along very well. He thinks he's my boss.
My father was thrown from his horse and killed during roundup the spring when I turned five years old. I'll never forget it. I was so sad. But my mother and my brothers (especially Justin) stepped in, and I eventually got on with life. Chad gave me Taffy for my sixth birthday, and that really helped, too.
I don't like doing chores (who does?), but the ranch can't run itself. Sometimes I wonder why I have to clean my room and muck out Taffy's stall when we have dozens of hired hands, but I guess my mother has her reasons. I think she wants me to learn to be responsible. I used to wish I were free, instead. If you've read about my first adventure in Long Ride Home, you'll understand when I say that freedom isn't much fun when you don't have anybody to love. Now I think I'd rather be responsible.
My father was thrown from his horse and killed during roundup the spring when I turned five years old. I'll never forget it. I was so sad. But my mother and my brothers (especially Justin) stepped in, and I eventually got on with life. Chad gave me Taffy for my sixth birthday, and that really helped, too.
I don't like doing chores (who does?), but the ranch can't run itself. Sometimes I wonder why I have to clean my room and muck out Taffy's stall when we have dozens of hired hands, but I guess my mother has her reasons. I think she wants me to learn to be responsible. I used to wish I were free, instead. If you've read about my first adventure in Long Ride Home, you'll understand when I say that freedom isn't much fun when you don't have anybody to love. Now I think I'd rather be responsible.
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