New Beginnings in Spain by Sarah Barkley (early reader books TXT) 📕

eager to get started, and it was such a beautiful day. She filled out the paperwork, handed over 10 euros, and headed out the door.

"Gracias! I'll have it back tonight before you close!"

"Have fun! And just bring the bike back in the morning. We'll be closing early tonight to get ready for the big fiesta."

Molly rode out of the shop, all excited about her bike trip. She just needed to stop at the little market, pick up some bread, cheese, a small goat skin flask of wine, and a bottle of water for her afternoon picnic in the hills. According to the directions, she was to head to the direction of the highway to Zaragoza. Just before the highway starts, she would pass the Guanas Gas Station. One hundred meters past the station, she was to turn right onto an old trail headed to Alberite. She should then go two kilometers until she comes to a dairy farm.

Molly found the gas station and the old trail easily enough, and then headed the two kilometers towards Alberite. It was a beautiful trail. She passed by several lush vegetable gardens and quaint country cottages. It really felt nice to get out in the country and away from all the commotion in town for a few hours. She quickly came across the dairy farm. It would have been impossible to miss. No sooner had she rounded a bend at the 2 KM mark, then she got the unmistakable odor of cow manure in the wind.

Checking the directions, Molly then read that after about 500 meters past the dairy farm, she should find herself crossing over the highway. A short while later she should pass over an old bridge and then arrive at the entrance to a small town with a sign that pointed towards Clavijo.

Molly took a ten minute break on the side of the trial, drank some water, and then started to ascend the hilly terrain. The view was amazing! The hillsides were dotted with rows and rows of grapevines. A short time later, and after a lot of huffing and puffing, she finally came to the intersection that led to Clavijo. The guy in the shop had said to go about 1000 meters, and she should come across a little bungalow that was covered in hub caps. Well, she didn't know if she'd gone 1000 meters, but the house of wheels was obvious! This is where she was to veer left onto an unpaved trail, follow it for about 700 meters, and then detour to a new trail on the right. Man, she better not lose these directions, or she'll never make her way back to town.

This part of the trail was also beautiful. She saw a dilapidated old barn off in the distance, and then passed by the olive grove. Just about two more kilometers to go, and she'd reach the entrance to Calvijo. Molly couldn't wait to visit the Castillo once she got there. It was built almost 2000 years ago. She had also heard that the view of Logrono from up above in Clavijo is just breathtaking.

Molly rounded a bend, when suddenly the bike jerked, and she practically fell over. The chain had snapped in two! Now what? How'd she get to Clavijo now? Well, it wasn't too much farther, and hopefully there'll be a bike repair stop or a gas station there where she could get help. She refused to let this little setback ruin her trip.

Determined to make the best of things, w/o getting her down, Molly started walking the trail while guiding the bike beside her. Just a teeny tiny setback, she thought.
That's when the first rain drops hit her face. Molly had been so busy looking at the scenery, that she hadn't noticed that the sky was becoming darker and darker. Within seconds, those little drops threatened to turn into a huge storm, as she heard thunder coming from not too far away. Looking around, there was absolutely no place to take cover. The bike was basically worthless at this point, and she didn't know what to do. It's not that she minded getting wet, but it was getting late afternoon, and the temperature would be dropping soon, and it will probably start lightening on top of that.

Then she remembered the old barn she had seen a few minutes earlier. It was off in the distance, a little ways from the bike trail, but she thought she could make it before the storm got too bad. Quickly, she ditched the bike behind a bush, grabbed her backpack, and then ran like the dickens for the barn.

Thank Goodness! She made it just before all hell broke loose and the storm was suddenly upon her. Molly pushed open the old door and ran inside, slamming it behind her. Catching her breath, Molly slowly looked around in the dim light. The barn seemed to be forgotten and abandoned, but she wasn't sure. Carefully, she started to explore the barn and peer into some of the stalls. There were four of them, on each side of the barn. They all appeared to be empty, until she reached the last one. It had a bunch of boxes and crates stacked up against the back wall.

She started to go check out the boxes, when the storm seemed to grow worse, and the barn grew darker. So, she focused her attention on trying to find a dry warm place to wait out the storm. That's when she noticed a ladder leading up to what appeared to be a loft or something. She climbed up the wobbly steps and found herself on a platform about ten feet wide and covering the length of the barn. Off to the corner, was a big pile of hay, so she decided to head for that and sit down and rest.

It was warm and dry in the hay, and Molly was worn out and hungry. She made herself comfortable in the soft, scratchy hay, pulled out the bread and cheese from her backpack, and made a sandwich. No, she made a "bocadillo", as it is called in Spanish. Biting into the delicious, hard bread, Molly hadn't realized just how hungry she was. She tried to wash it down with a small sip of wine. Lifting the flask to her mouth, Molly gently squeezed the goat skin flask and pointed the spout in the direction of her mouth, like she'd seen in the movies, and gave it a slight squeeze. The first squirt got her smack in the face, dribbling all over her face and hair. Finally, she figured out how to handle the blasted flask, and was soon expertly directing the flow of wine directly into her mouth. It was a local white wine from the Rioja region, light, dry and crisp, just the way she liked it.

After a couple more sips, Molly was beginning to feel warm, cozy and sleepy. Sure, having the chain break was bad luck, but, she was in Spain, after all, living her dream. Here she was, sitting in an abandoned barn out in the middle of nowhere, and she was FINE! She wasn't feeling depressed anymore… but actually excited. At least she'd have some interesting stories to tell her friends back home.

Suddenly, very sleepy, Molly laid back in the hay, closed her eyes, and fell quickly into a deep sleep.

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Chapter 4 Ramiro & Enrique Sept. 22 8:30 AM

As Ramiro and Enrique left the barn, got in the car and drove away, Enrique would not stop


talking. “See, Ramiro, I told you I would take care of everything! There is enough food and


drinks in that room to last for 5 days, but of course it won’t take that long. As soon as that wine


guy finds out his kids are missing, he won’t hesitiate to pay up the 5,000,000 Euros in ransom!”


God, does he ever just shut up? Ramiro had had about enough of this kid. Enrique WILL serve


his purpose, when the time comes, but Ramiro hated working with ameteurs. To Enrique this


was all a game. To Ramiro, it was everything! As Enrique blabbed on and on about every little


detail, Ramiro thought about how he ended up with the ETA in the first place.


He was the oldest of four children growing up in a poor farmhouse outside of Bilbao. His father


was an alcoholic, a bum and a bully. He always insisted on perfect grades in school, and when


one of them did poorly in a class, they were beaten with the oak cane that hung on a nail out in


the barn. Ramiro still has scars on his back from those beatings. For some reason he always had


problems in school. He really tried hard, even stayed up late trying to study in the moonlight


that came through his bedroom window. He had tried to explain to his parents and his teachers


that the words kept getting mixed up when he tried to read, but nobody would listen. They all


just said he was lazy. His sister, Anna, never studied, and she always made great grades.


His father had worked all his life in the vineyards, all over the Rioja region. He’d always talk


about the different grape varieties, whether they were working with the red tempranillo grapes or


the white garnacha grapes and lots of other varieties. He talked about the planting season, and


then the harvesting in the fall. He always hated the harvesting. He’d spend 14 hours a day out


in the field picking grapes for the “rich wine baron assholes”. He’d complain about the heavy


wicker baskets that they would use to gather the grapes for transport to the tailors that carried


them to the wineries for processing. There he would help with the grape crushing and the


transfer to the fermentation tanks.


Yes, his father knew just about all there was to making wine. At first he was passionate about


his work. He took pride in each harvest, even though he was just the hired hand. He always


vowed that one day he would own his