Books with author Arnold

Bob Logan You might say Bob Logan was born in the Civil War. As an espionage agent for a Scotsman named Allan Pinkerton, he left his past behind and began an uncertain future in the West. A teenager on the cusp of manhood, he’s already a seasoned manhunter. As a Pinkerton man, his identity must be adaptable to match the ever-changing circumstances. In his persuit of wanted men, he encounters Wild Bill Hickock, William F. Cody, hostile Indians and men consumed with post-war hatred. Sudden death rides the borderlands of the frontier. No stranger to the charms of women, a certain blonde haired, blue-eyed maiden plays a role in his future development as a man. In a time and place where a boy must grow up quickly, and in a profession where he’s one person one day and another the next, will anyone know who he really is? Does he know himself?

Winner of the Midwest Book Award for Best Young Adult Novel, 2011!Historical fiction - a teenage girl and her father embark on a life-changing journey across the North Dakota and Minnesota plains in 1862."Do you ever find yourself finishing a book and loving it so much you refrain from reading for a while? You don't want to pick up another title because it may erase the wonderful feelings you currently have. Ox Cart Angel did that to me. I simply loved this book." - Novella Reviews'If I had known how much my life was about to change, I would have spent that last day in Pembina differently. I would have said goodbye to my friends and visited the places that reminded me of Mama, especially the elm tree where she was buried. I would have sat at her grave telling her how much I missed her, and that I’d come back someday to visit.But since I didn’t know any of that, I spent most of that day with Freda Two-Feathers, who was a half-breed like me.Half-breed.Papa hated that word.“You are Métis,” he’d say. “You are not half of anything, Claire.”'While the Civil War rages far away, Claire and her father set out on a journey from the Dakota Territory, hoping to catch up to the large caravan of Métis fur traders that left the day before. Their destination? The bustling city of St. Paul, where Papa wishes to open a photography studio. But with only Bone Bag, their one-horned ox, to pull their squeaky cart, they soon realize they may have to make their treacherous journey alone. Braving bad weather, packs of wolves, dangerous river crossings, starvation and exhaustion, can Claire and her father survive the deeply rutted ox cart trails?"The story creates a vivid picture of Claire and her father and of the land through which they travel. It pulls the reader into their world, feeling their emotions, and rejoicing and crying with them. The ending sends a strong message about survival and sets the groundwork for the sequel. Can't wait!" - Memories From Books blogJoin Claire and her father as they travel along the Red River and ox cart trails in North Dakota and Minnesota in an historical adventure you won't soon forget.

Winner of the Midwest Book Award for Young Adult Fiction, 2011. While the Civil War rages far away, Claire Dumont and her father set out on a journey from the Dakota Territory, hoping to catch up to the large caravan of Métis fur traders that left the day before. Their destination? The bustling city of St. Paul, where Papa wishes to open a photography studio. But with only Bone Bag, their one-horned ox, to pull their squeaky cart, they soon realize they may have to make their treacherous journey alone. Braving bad weather, packs of wolves, dangerous river crossings, starvation and exhaustion, can Claire and her father survive the deeply rutted ox cart trails? Excerpt: If I had known how much my life was about to change, I would have spent that last day in Pembina differently. I would have said goodbye to my friends and visited the places that reminded me of Mama, especially the elm tree where she was buried. I would have sat at her grave telling her how much I missed her, and that I’d come back someday to visit. But since I didn’t know any of that, I spent most of that day with Freda Two-Feathers, who was a half-breed like me. Half-breed. Papa hated that word. “You are Métis,” he’d say. “You are not half of anything, Claire.”