Water Lily

by Terri Farley

  “And then—”

  Cade’s second whistle interrupted Megan’s sentence, but she kept on, hands on hips.

  “—what? You’re not going to go down there—”

  “I’ll lock up the rest of ’em first.”

  Cade walked toward the kennel with the dogs trailing him.

  Muttering and shaking her head, Megan strode toward Sun House.

  Falling into step beside her, Darby said, “I guess that’s his job.”

  The rain and wind had slacked off and the night felt warm, but Megan made a wide gesture that took in the darkness and said, “It’s not even safe.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before they heard a whine, and Sass came trotting down the dirt road toward them.

  “You sure took your time,” Megan reproached the dog.

  “Are we glad to see you,” Darby greeted him.

  Sass stopped a few feet away. Head high, tail straight up like an exclamation point, he barked directly at them.

  “We’re not going down there to crawl into muddy holes with you,” Darby said.

  Shivering despite his persistent barking, the wet dog needed care. It only took Megan one glance to know what to do.

  “Keep him here. I’ll go get a towel.” Megan darted away.

  Darby tried to do as she’d been told, but Sass wouldn’t come close enough for her to touch him, let alone get a grip on his collar or ruff.

  He trotted back down the road, whining. He wanted her to follow him. When she wouldn’t, he grew frustrated, and his barks turned into high-pitched yapping.

  “Here to me,” Megan ordered as she came back out of the house with a towel.

  Sass stood in the beam from the front porch light, hesitating. He was not allowed to disobey a direct command, but he bounced in mock playfulness, trying once more to get someone to follow him.

  “Sass.” Megan lowered her voice in a pretty good imitation of Jonah’s. “Here. To. Me.”

  Eyes reproachful and tongue lolling, he went to Megan. He let himself be toweled off, but whined the entire time. Once he was dry, Megan inspected the dog from paw pads to the tips of his blue merle ears.

  “You’re not hurt,” she informed him.

  At the clang of the kennel gate, Sass pounced down the road a few feet and made a last plea with a yodeling sound.

  “The thing is, we don’t want to go hunt squirmy things,” Megan said. Her slicker crinkled as she crossed her arms.

  With a huff of surrender, Sass wagged his lowered tail and trotted off toward Cade and the other dogs.

  It was morning before Darby gave Sass another thought.

  Jonah’s voice invaded her dreams. “You go on down with Cade. See about that colt.”

  Darby sat up in bed and used both hands to push curtains of black hair away from her face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You heard me.”

  Boots clomped down the hall, the front door closed, and her grandfather was gone.

  Darby stared at her bedside clock. Six thirty. Okay. She hadn’t expected to sleep late even if school was canceled. The pasture fence had to be finished for the cremellos. The Agricultural Department of Whatever people would probably show up to enforce the new regulation….

  All at once Jonah’s words soaked into her brain…. go on down with Cade. See about that colt….

  Darby’s feet hit the floor. For a bleary minute, she wondered why there were no ready-to-wear jeans on her bedroom floor. But they were wet, of course, tossed into the laundry room. She opened a drawer, grabbed fresh jeans, a bright green T-shirt, and socks.

  As she walked toward the front door, it dawned on Darby that Sass hadn’t been after vermin last night. He’d been trying to tell them something was wrong down in the broodmare pasture.

  Judging from what Jonah had just said, at least Cade had listened.

  Once she’d pulled on her socks and boots, Darby bolted out of Sun House. She was looking down, concentrating on winding an elastic around her hair as she walked, and nearly collided with Jonah.

  He was leading Navigator. The big brown Quarter Horse was trying to outpace his master, heading toward Darby as if he hadn’t seen her in months, even though they’d gone on a long ride just yesterday.

  Jonah didn’t think the gelding’s eagerness was at all cute, and he let the horse know by making a shh-ing sound. Navigator fell into place behind him. Just the same, Jonah stopped and made Navigator back up a few steps before he allowed him to go forward.

  Discipline was an every-hour-of-every-day thing on this ranch, but the reprimand didn’t keep Navigator from watching Darby approach and it didn’t stop Darby from appreciating the horse all over again.

  Navigator had selected Darby as his person on the day she’d arrived at ‘Iolani Ranch.

  He was the first horse she’d ridden in her entire life. That would have earned him a place in her heart, Darby thought, even if he hadn’t been the perfect beginner mount for her.

  “Shouldn’t I do my chores first?” she asked when her grandfather and Navigator reached her.

  “I’ll get them started. You need to see what a colicky horse looks like.”

  As she took the reins, her grandfather’s promise that she’d take over the ranch one day replayed in her mind. Recognizing what was wrong with a sick colt was a single fact among the millions she’d have to learn if that dream could really come true.

  And, though she wanted to know which colt, and what colic was, she didn’t ask. Another fact she’d already learned was her grandfather’s probable response to those questions. Jonah would cross his arms and ask why she didn’t just go see for herself.

  “Don’t look so scared,” Jonah said. “I’ll send Kit out when he comes back from checking the cattle in Upper Sugar Mill, or if Kimo ever shows up, I’ll come myself.”

  Kimo was often late, but she was surprised he’d fail to show up when there was so much to do. Still, Darby didn’t comment on Kimo’s shortcomings. She just lifted one shoulder in a shrug, like the guys did.

  Next, she led Navigator to a side hill so that she could reach his left stirrup without hopping around trying to stab her boot toe through it with Jonah watching. Luck was with her on her first try; she swung into the saddle with ease.

  Smiling, she reined Navigator back toward Jonah and asked, “How long’s Cade been down there?”

  “Since about three,” Jonah said. “Sass dug out of the kennel. Surprised you didn’t hear the others tellin’ on him.”

  “Me, too,” Darby began.

  “So, you waiting for an invitation to ride down there?” Jonah asked.

  “No,” she said. “See ya later.”

  Darby’s mind spun as she put Navigator into a trot.

  Colic. She’d heard the term before, but she was pretty sure it had been used about babies. Colic affected the stomach, didn’t it? And hadn’t she read that horses were physically incapable of throwing up?

  She reined Navigator to the right and set him on the trail that zigzagged down the hillside to the pastures below.

  Darby picked out the pink-roan coat of Megan’s horse, Tango. She saw the elegant dappled gray named Lady Wong and, patrolling the pasture called Borderland, she spotted Kanaka Luna. The bay stallion pranced and tossed his rippling black mane, showing off for Navigator and Darby, informing them he was king of all he surveyed.

  But Darby barely noticed Luna’s display. She was wondering if colts died from colic.

  The day was so bright, Darby squinted against the sun, then ducked a little, trying to avoid the breeze carrying dew drops from the tree leaves.

  The broodmares stood with their tails to the rain and their foals tucked against their sides. Some of the babies whinnied fretfully. It was June. Summer was on its way. Their growing muscles told them to romp and race, but a stronger message kept them near the grown horses.

  The mares swished their tails. They strayed no more than a body length from one another, and they stood in the
shade instead of the warm sunlight, staying near Blue Ginger and her foal, forming a wall between those two and Joker, who was ground-tied nearby.

  At least that’s what it looked like to Darby. Which was weird, because the mares knew Cade’s Appaloosa gelding.

  They must have sensed something was wrong.

  Cade wasn’t astride his black-splattered gray horse. Instead he stood with Blue Ginger’s foal. Cade had made a sling of his arms to hold—Blue Moon, that was his name!—up on his feet.

  Cade looked worn-out. Once his eyes found Darby, he was too weary to move his gaze elsewhere.

  “You’ve been at this a while,” Darby called to him.

  He nodded. Darby lifted her reins and clucked at Navigator. The gelding lengthened his stride, taking her toward Cade, the blue roan, and her foal.

  Despite Cade’s grip, the little horse’s head was down and moving back and forth in a strange way. One tiny front hoof pawed the ground and patches of sweat marked his light brown coat.

  Darby dismounted, left Navigator ground-tied near Joker, and walked slowly up to Cade.

  “Can I have a turn?” she asked.

  Cade started to refuse, but weariness won out, because he nodded and Darby’s disappointment turned to trepidation.

  “Just tell me how,” Darby said.

  “Put your arms in front of or behind mine. Then, when I take my arms away, move ’em where mine were.”

  Darby did, but when Cade’s arms relinquished the foal to her, she gave a grunt of surprise.

  “Heavier than he looks, yeah?” Cade asked.

  “Yeah,” Darby said, but she didn’t care. She was overcome with tenderness for the little heart beating against her wrists.

  The foal’s head whipped around and at first she thought he might rake her with his bared teeth, but he just rubbed his face against her arm.

  This close, Darby could see white hair sprinkled through Blue Moon’s fawn-colored coat. She wondered if he’d be roan or buckskin or bay like his father, when he grew up. She hoped she had the opportunity to find out.

  “Poor baby,” Darby crooned to the foal.

  “He’s doing better,” Cade said. “We just need to keep him moving.”

  “Do you think it’s colic?” Darby asked.

  “I’m not so—hey, great. Here comes Kit.”

  The buckaroo rode in from the direction of the cattle herds, black Stetson pulled low over his eyes. He rode a half-trained grulla named Conch, and the broodmares were anything but happy to see the gelding’s excitement.

  “No ground-tying for you,” Kit said. He balanced in his left stirrup, accustoming the gelding to the fact that he was dismounting before climbing down.

  The considerate and experienced move made Darby feel better already, though her arms trembled from the foal’s weight.

  The mares fretted as Kit led Conch closer, but they trusted the cowboy and allowed him and the gelding through.

  People often mistook Kit for a native Hawaiian because of his straight black hair, but he was really half Shoshone, a Native American from Nevada. He was a former rodeo rider who had smashed up one wrist in a rodeo fall. It was enough to end his rodeo career, although he was still amazing with horses. One of his rodeo pals, a guy named Pani, had helped Kit get the foreman’s job at the ranch.

  Darby couldn’t have explained why she thought Kit was worried. He wasn’t frowning and he didn’t really look ill at ease, but she could tell something was wrong.

  “Haven’t seen Kimo, I s’pose,” he said as he squatted to look the foal over without touching him.

  “No,” Darby and Cade said together.

  Kit kept one rein in his hand. His other hand touched the turquoise rock on his leather string necklace.

  “You think it’s colic?” he asked Cade, just as Darby had minutes ago.

  Cade shrugged.

  “A lot of bacteria’s gotten into the main reservoir near Hapuna. We should be fine, but ARC’s got an agriculture and health department team comin’ to check out the well. If they see him like this, they could shut us down. Cricket’s goin’ to come with them if she can get away from the store.”

  Cricket Pukai was an Animal Rescue Society volunteer and Kit’s girlfriend. Darby admired everything about her, but what did she have to do with the water situation? Was Kit implying she could help them face down the ARC team?

  “Eyes’re a little glassy,” Kit observed as he turned toward her. “How’s his belly feel?”

  How would I know? Darby wondered, but when Cade answered, “Tight, but not puffed up,” she understood Kit’s question.

  She concentrated on the feel of the foal’s body against her arms.

  “Not drum-skin tight,” she said, “more like he’s had a little too much to eat.”

  Kit’s gaze shifted between Darby and Cade.

  “Hard to know what to hope for,” he said. “Bacteria could hurt ’em all, but colic kills ’em when pressure from gas causes heart failure.”

  “Not always!” Darby exclaimed, but she heard the question in her voice.

  “Not even usually,” Kit assured her. “He’s not over-fed. I can’t figure him getting spoiled grain anywhere.” Looking thoughtful, as though he’d gone down a mental list of what caused the condition, he considered the wide, green pastures. “Any poisonous weeds I haven’t come across yet?”

  Cade shook his head.

  “He been rolling or biting at his flanks?”

  “No.”

  By now the foal had grown so heavy in Darby’s arms, she wasn’t surprised to see his long eyelashes were closed.

  Noticing her baby was asleep, Blue Ginger stepped closer. She took breaths so deep, they lifted strands of Darby’s hair.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Darby whispered.

  Jonah didn’t approve of pampering the horses. He refused to treat them like pets. To him, the Quarter Horses, dogs, and other animals on the place were working partners.

  Darby had never seen a vet visit ‘Iolani Ranch, but they probably didn’t need one. The combined knowledge of Jonah, Aunty Cathy, Kit, and Kimo must have amounted to a couple of degrees in veterinary medicine.

  Still, Blue Moon was so little….

  “We’ll take him up where we can keep an eye on him.” Kit lifted his head toward Sun House. “Can’t spend all day checking on him. Too much work to be done.”

  Cade drew in a breath that only Darby noticed. Cade wanted to go look for his mom in town, but how could he leave the ranch with the ARC people on their way, the cremellos’ pasture fence still to be finished, and Blue Moon’s health shaky?

  Darby hoped Aunty Cathy had picked up Dee’s trail in town.

  “Will he walk?” Kit asked.

  “Don’t know,” Cade said. “We can try.”

  “Wake up, baby,” Darby said as she slowly removed her arms.

  Blue Moon’s eyelids flapped open, his tail spun in a corkscrew move, and he jumped a few steps toward his mother before he stopped, yawned, and lay down.

  Cade knelt beside the foal and tried to push him up, but Blue Moon just flopped flat.

  It wasn’t until Kit opened the foal’s mouth to check the color of his gums that Blue Moon’s spirit returned. He did not like the cowboy’s probing fingers. Pawing the grass with his front hooves, he got halfway up.

  Blue Ginger rammed into Darby’s shoulder, pushing past the half circle of humans to her foal. Did Kit and Cade sense the anxiety streaming off the mare, like she could? Darby tried to stroke the horse’s blue-gray neck, but Blue Ginger jerked away.

  The mare knew the foal had to get back on his feet, but she was trying to let him do it on his own.

  “He’ll be okay,” Darby told the mare, but Kit picked that moment to insist the foal get back on his hooves.

  “Move Mom off a ways,” he told Darby.

  Blue Ginger wore no halter or bridle, so Darby grabbed a handful of mane, clucked, and started walking.

  The mare’s body shifted tow
ard Darby, but her hooves stayed still.

  “Mount up,” Kit said. “Ride toward home on Navigator.”

  Darby did as Kit asked, but of course Blue Ginger didn’t follow. Why had Kit thought she would abandon her sick baby?

  Darby looked over her shoulder to see Cade was once again shoving lightly against the foal’s hindquarters. Nothing. Then Kit moved in to swat the foal more forcefully on his rump.

  Darby winced. It was unlike Kit to be rough with any animal, but she understood as she heard him talking to the foal.

  “Move, little boy,” he commanded. “Walk it off now, or you might not get another chance.”

  Chapter Five

  In a flurry of hooves, Blue Moon lurched up, then moved slowly and steadily behind his mother. Cade was back on Joker, raising one hand, hazing the mare after Darby.

  They’d reached the ridge and turned up the driveway toward Sun House when Darby noticed two things: Kimo’s truck still wasn’t here, but a light blue vehicle with writing on the door was.

  The ARC team, she remembered. Agricultural Resource Conservation? She was pretty sure that was it.

  Navigator’s gait slowed as two men, deep in conversation with Jonah, looked up at her. Darby’s old shyness made her stare down at her saddle horn.

  The hooves behind her changed tempo, and Darby knew the mare and foal had picked up her anxiety.

  Shake it off, Darby told herself as Kit and Cade kept the two horses moving after her. You’re not the big attraction. They’re here to check out the well.

  She lifted her chin and straightened her spine, trying to ride with the natural grace she’d observed in every other Kealoha on horseback.

  “What now?” Jonah shouted as if fate was picking on him.

  “Colic.” Kit confirmed Jonah’s diagnosis with an almost indifferent tone. “Only brought ’em up because we’re too busy to fuss over him down there.”

  Darby’s first impression of the two men was that they were muddy and grateful for the coffee Jonah had just given them. Although the sun dominated the cloudy sky, the men cupped their hands around their mugs as if they needed the warmth. They’d probably been wet for a while.