by Terri Farley
The day she arrived at the ranch, Kimo had told Darby that her grandfather didn’t admire cowards. Given what she’d learned about Jonah since then, Darby guessed he’d probably think that admitting he was worried about the stock, ranch buildings, and Cathy would make him seem weak.
So Darby tried a different approach to make sure he was all right.
“Just thought you might want a little nap,” Darby said. Looking down, she kicked her boot toe at the floor Aunty Cathy had managed to scrub before going to the doctor. “We got going pretty early this morning.”
Jonah’s sudden roar of laughter startled Darby.
Her grandfather had seen through her no-big-deal mask to her concern but he obviously liked it better than her fussing over him.
“Darby Leilani Kealoha,” he said with an appreciative chuckle, “you do have the stuff of a ranch girl.”
If he’d given her a medal, Darby couldn’t have been prouder.
Jonah’s laughter subsided and he tapped his chest, saying, “This old man’s not hurt, if that’s what you’re wanting to ask.”
“Good,” Darby said, lifting one shoulder in apology. “Because this morning, I was concentrating on the horses, instead of you—”
“That’s exactly what you should have been doing,” Jonah said. “I can take care of myself.”
Darby stood even taller. But she knew she couldn’t stick around, longing for a piece of pie when there was work to be done.
“What should I do first?” she asked her grandfather.
“Lead your filly up from the pasture. If she’s going holoholo, she’d better learn to behave.”
“Okay,” Darby said slowly.
Don’t bring it up, Darby told herself. Don’t ask if he’ll still let you go—and take Hoku!—if Megan has to stay behind with Aunty Cathy.
Could he have forgotten that Megan had been a condition of his approval?
“Tomorrow’s soon enough for you to start walking along our fences, looking for loose posts or downed boards that mighta got wobbly after Cade rode through,” Jonah said.
That would take a long time, but it shouldn’t be hard, Darby thought.
“After you’ve brought Hoku home, go visit your tutu.”
“Really?” Darby pushed loose tendrils of hair back toward her ponytail. She’d like to go interview her great-grandmother about Two Sisters, but even if Hoku was easy to catch, she wasn’t sure she’d have time. “Can I get to Tutu’s cottage and back before dark?”
“You won’t have to ride that far,” Jonah said.
“All right,” Darby said, nodding. “Where should I meet her?”
“She’ll find you,” Jonah said with resignation, signifying what a burden it was having a mother known the island over as a wise woman or witch, depending on who you asked.
“Okay,” Darby said, then started for the door.
“Granddaughter?” Jonah’s voice caught Darby before she touched the doorknob. “You’ve got two days to show me you’re not about to get bucked off again.”
“I’ll do it!” Darby promised, without thinking about how.
“And take your tutu this pumpkin bread when you go, yeah?” Jonah said.
“Yeah,” Darby agreed, and then she was out the door.
Darby almost took the path down to the pastures on foot, but Hoku was used to being led beside Navigator—ponying, the cowboys called it—so Darby looked around for the coffee-colored gelding.
Darby was a little sorry she’d forgotten to replace her new fawn-colored boots for the scuffed ones she’d gotten as hand-me-downs from Megan, but not sorry enough to go back to the house and change.
She spotted Navigator, Biscuit, and Judge grazing over by the round pen. Their contented browsing made Darby’s heart bump with joy. If she could have seen into the future from this time last year, she’d have been positive she was seeing a dream.
In that dream, she stood in nature’s cupped hand, surrounded by impossibly green beauty as two bay horses—one big and strong, the other gray-muzzled and sweet—came to her.
But it was real, and Biscuit reminded her of that when he stayed put. Seeing his chance to eat alone, he began ripping at the grass as if he’d been starved.
Instead of coming to nuzzle her, Navigator trotted ahead of Darby, tossing his black mane, leading her toward the tack room.
“Good, ’Gator. You’ve forgotten all about yesterday, haven’t you?”
The gelding’s eagerness to be saddled and ridden convinced Darby she was right. Yesterday, Navigator had sensed the coming earthquake.
“And you’ve forgiven me for being so dense, right?”
Navigator didn’t look back.
Judge tagged along behind Darby, lengthening his stride once to sniff at her pockets for treats.
“Sorry,” Darby told the old horse, but Judge overcame his disappointment to neigh a greeting at Kit Ely.
The foreman stood on a ladder, tapping a metal pin into the top hinge on the tack-room door.
“If it’s not the can-do keiki,” Kit said before giving the pin one final tap.
Wow, Darby thought.
First Jonah’s compliment, now Kit, a Nevada cowboy who must know what he was talking about, was calling her the “can-do kid.”
It was a good thing no one could see inside her mind. If they could, they’d know she was wriggling like a proud puppy.
“Hi,” she said.
Kit moved the door back and forth with experimental slowness.
“That’s got ’er,” he said, and climbed down. “Hoku’s gear is laid out over her gate. I checked the fence for strain, where she was rammin’ against it, and everything looks like it held.”
Darby tried not to think about Hoku charging the fence with rolling eyes and determined terror that morning.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to pony her with Navigator.”
“Well, now…,” Kit said, staring at Sun House as if he could see through its walls. “Jonah didn’t talk to you about Navigator, then?”
“No!” Darby stared at the horse. “Was he hurt during the earthquake?”
“Nothin’ like that,” Kit said, and then he shook his head, whispering, “Ah, boss, why do you do me this way?”
Darby didn’t like the sound of that.
“Huh?” she asked.
“All day, your grandpa’s been touchy as a teased snake.”
Of course, there were no snakes in Hawaii, Darby thought. But Kit was from Nevada. Darby’s mind had set off on a detour when Kit crossed his arms. “So I’m not takin’ him on about this.”
“About what?” Darby asked.
Kit rubbed the back of his neck. He took off his black Stetson, brushed its brim, then put it back on.
“Judge’ll be your saddle horse for the next couple of days,” Kit said, squinting past her. “’Less you’re under the boss’s supervision.”
“Judge,” Darby repeated.
What could she say that wouldn’t sound stuck-up, like she believed she was too good a rider for the older gelding, who’d sailed across the Pacific Ocean as Hoku’s buddy?
“Okay,” she said finally. But she didn’t move. She had been riding for only a few weeks. She had no right to feel insulted. But how had she gone from the possibility of riding Hoku yesterday to Judge?
Sensing her bewilderment, Kit spoke up.
“I’ll give him a quick brushing and tack him up. You get Hoku’s gear,” he said. Then, with a joking tone, Kit turned toward the horses. “C’mon, Judge, you old slacker. Your vacation’s over.”
Judge must have understood. His fuzzy ears pricked forward. He shouldered past Navigator and pressed his face into Kit’s shirt, inhaling his scent as if the cowboy was all his.
Darby hurried to Hoku’s empty corral. A flapping sound made Darby look up.
She stared into the branches of the ohia tree, looking for pueo, the round-faced owl. She could see a dangling branch that might have broken when the earth shook, but no bir
d.
Stop wasting time, she reminded herself.
Darby grabbed Hoku’s halter and lead rope, gave a quick wave, just in case the Kealoha family’s guardian animal was up there, offering its approval, then raced back to the tack shed.
A few minutes later, Kit shifted the cinched-on saddle, then considered it from in front of the horse to make sure it was centered. He tied Hoku’s orange-and-white lead rope and halter on with saddle strings, then linked his hands together and nodded at them.
Darby would rather mount from a sidehill, but she took Kit’s offer. Placing her left boot in his hands, she sprang into the saddle.
Judge gave an excited snort and tossed his head. As his mane flipped against his neck, Darby smelled the conditioner Kit had sprayed on Judge’s mane, so he could brush out the tangles.
“Legs forward,” he said, then adjusted the stirrups of the first saddle Judge had worn since he arrived in Hawaii.
Kit waved her off without advice, as if she were a seasoned rider. Darby liked that, but she was still feeling a little hurt that Jonah had moved her down to a gentler horse for something that wasn’t her fault.
She glanced back over her shoulder at Navigator, who’d rejoined Biscuit. She reminded herself that she’d seen Kit, Cade, and Kimo, maybe Jonah, too, riding yesterday, and none of them had been thrown.
If Navigator had sensed the coming earthquake, so had the other horses. Maybe Jonah had a point after all.
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she complained to Judge.
But the Nevada gelding wouldn’t let her dampen his mood. He arched his neck and neighed as they wound down the path to the lower pastures.
All of the other horses stopped grazing to stare at him, so Judge set his hooves in a flashy jog.
“You’re allowed to show off,” Darby told him. His gait was easy and smooth and Darby could picture him circling a herd of cattle, though he had simply arrived on this ranch and been put out to pasture.
As Darby leaned forward, Judge turned an ear to listen.
“I love you,” Darby told the old gelding.
My heart’s just up for grabs when it comes to horses, she thought.
With a smile on her face, Darby rode down to catch Hoku.
Chapter 10
Hoku came along as if she remembered that Darby had made her promise to earlier that day. She was still a little spooky, spending at least ten minutes sniffing Judge, who must look different with a saddle and rider. The gate that Kit had left open got the same treatment, as if Hoku’s senses had been sharpened by spending time with a community of horses.
Once she’d decided to enter her corral, Hoku gulped her hay and lowered herself to the ground, front legs tucked beneath her.
With Hoku content, Darby collected the loaf of pumpkin bread Aunty Cathy had made for Tutu from the kitchen, then rode Judge back through the pastures toward her great-grandmother’s cottage. Instead of being worn out by the ride, Judge took pleasure in exploring the Hawaii he’d only seen through fences.
Sunlight slanted through the rain-forest canopy, looking like golden strings on a huge Hawaiian harp. The trees were alive with birdsong, the gliding of leaves on leaves, and the burbling of an unseen stream.
Judge was equally mesmerized by the woods. His fuzzy ears pointed in different directions with each step. With wide nostrils, he sucked in unknown scents and savored them.
“You’ve never been past that fence, have you, boy?” Darby asked, petting Judge’s coarse black mane. “Anything could happen here.”
“He’s a long way from Nevada.” Tutu’s voice floated to Darby, but she couldn’t see her great-grandmother yet.
Judge didn’t shy. He must have sensed the old woman and her horse on their way.
“Aloha!” Tutu called.
Once more, Darby thought her great-grandmother’s voice belonged to a jolly lady of larger proportions, instead of an old woman who was as slender as a girl.
“Aloha,” Darby called back.
Bare of saddle and bridle, Prettypaint entered the clearing. The blue-gray mare was old, but lovely. Her head nodded to the left side of the path, then the right, greeting throngs of invisible admirers. Silken feathers drifted above hooves placed with exquisite care, as if she bore a treasure on her back.
Tutu rode in a billowing pink skirt. Her white hair streamed over her right shoulder. An owl rode on her left.
“Yes, Prettypaint, this is Judge. He came across the ocean with Hoku.” Tutu addressed the mare as if she were human, and Darby longed for her mother to see how Tutu had pampered the horse she’d left behind.
Darby wanted to rush up and stroke the dusky nose the horse extended her way. She didn’t, partly because Jonah’s warnings were ringing in her mind, but mostly because she took her cue from Judge. The gelding hung back, head lowered in respect.
“We were coming to see you,” Darby said.
“This way?” Tutu asked. “Keep going along this trail and you’ll end up at the old sugar plantation.”
“Really?” Darby asked.
“Really,” Tutu insisted. “I wouldn’t encourage you to explore the plantation. At least, not alone.”
Darby twisted in her saddle. The red-dirt path behind her looked so familiar, but just as she’d told Judge, anything could happen in this forest.
She looked back as Tutu lifted the hand that had held a lock of pearl-colored mane. She gave a light clap. Hearing it, Prettypaint curled one foreleg up, slid the other foreleg ahead of her, and bowed, so that Tutu could slip off her back.
“She’s so graceful,” Darby said, then remembered what she’d carried from the ranch kitchen. “I brought you some pumpkin bread.”
She leaned down to hand Tutu the aluminum-foil-wrapped loaf before dismounting, then told her great-grandmother that Aunty Cathy had made it and explained what she knew of her concussion.
“I’m glad she saw a doctor,” Tutu said, “but she’ll be fine. That girl wouldn’t have lasted this long at ‘Iolani Ranch if she didn’t have a hard head.”
Darby laughed, and when Tutu suggested they share some pumpkin bread while they talked, she sat next to her great-grandmother on a log.
Preoccupied with keeping hold of Judge’s reins, she’d forgotten all about the owl.
Drawing up on the tips of his claws as if he were about to take flight, the owl swept both wings toward Darby.
“Other side?” Tutu suggested apologetically. She patted a place for Darby to sit on her right, then tsked her tongue. “What a selfish bird you are.”
Darby moved. She wanted no squabble with this owl she’d once seen munching on the head of a mouse.
After it flashed her a yellow-eyed glare, the owl preened, as if Darby had ruffled its feathers.
“Jonah tells me you’re making a pilgrimage up Two Sisters,” Tutu said.
Pilgrimage struck Darby as an oddly spiritual word, but she didn’t want to correct Tutu, so she just said, “It’s for an Ecology class project.”
“Of course,” Tutu said. “But you’ll want to respect the Fire Maiden.”
“Pele?” Darby asked. She’d seen pictures of the long-limbed goddess with a cloud of smoke-black hair. “I’ve never heard her called the Fire Maiden.”
“Few have heard of her life on Wild Horse Island,” Tutu said with a nod.
Darby gave a little bounce of excitement. “That’s exactly what I was hoping we could talk about. My teacher Mr. Silva wants us to see how story connects with science.”
“He sounds like a wise man,” Tutu said.
Darby nodded, but her brain picked that moment to replay Tyson’s warning. Shouldn’t go mocking Pele…she’s one bad lady when she’s mad.
“Do people believe in her? Like she’s real?” Darby blurted.
“Many believe. Some think she’s a ghost of a once-live woman and others think she’s always been a goddess. Most see her as a safety net.”
“A safety net?” Darby asked.
“They
have their daily faith, much like other modern people, but they leave offerings for Pele, and don’t violate the kapus she’s set.”
“Like what?” Darby asked, as a surge of enthusiasm replaced Tyson’s creepy voice.
“Don’t pick the red lehua flowers from her beloved ohia trees without proper respect, and never swallow ‘ohelo berries without offering them to her first. Pele is demanding and jealous, but she’s spent thousands of years being thwarted by her big sister.”
A tiny snort interrupted Tutu. Lulled by the sound of the old woman’s voice, the owl had fallen asleep.
Tutu and Darby looked at each other and smiled.
“If you stay in the islands, you’ll hear a hundred Pele stories, but the ones that feel truest to me are those I grew up with, here on Wild Horse Island.”
“Perfect,” Darby said.
“In her early days, Pele was simply looking for a home she could share with her big, brawling family. Of them all, only Pele was protective of the youngest sibling, a baby sister called Hi’iaka. Pele took her everywhere—”
“Is she the one…” Darby interrupted, then hesitated.
She’d never heard this story before, and yet a sparkle of memory told her that Pele always carried—meaning no disrespect to the goddess—a pet egg.
“Pele’s little sister was in an egg. To keep her warm, Pele carried Hi’iaka in her armpit,” Tutu filled in good-naturedly.
But how did I know that? Darby wondered.
The next part of the legend sounded familiar, too. Pele dug warm earth-sheltered homes for her family, but her oldest sister, the sea goddess, hated feeling cozy. She lived in cold seawater but still longed to be with her family. So, because she was the stronger of the two goddesses, the sea goddess made sure water bubbled up from beneath Pele’s creations, or crashed over them in the form of huge waves. And even when Pele moved to the next island, and the next, her sister followed.
“Sometimes Pele got mad and fought back. She threw hot rocks to scare her sister. Boulders with fiery comet tails flew through the air, and rivers of fire followed. But the sea goddess caught the manifestations of Pele’s rage with her cold watery hands, molded them a bit, and patted them onto the edges of the islands, making more land.