by Terri Farley
“I’ll talk to Cricket,” Darby said, checking her plan with the others.
“Good idea,” Megan said.
“It is. In fact, my first stop is the hardware store, but I can drop you at the feed store and come back,” Aunty Cathy said, pulling into the parking lot at the rear of the feed store.
“Are you sure, Mom?” Megan asked.
“We have to help you load the pipe,” Darby protested.
“I can get plenty of help at the hardware store. You two go ahead and talk horses with Cricket.”
“I hope Cricket’s working,” Megan said as they climbed out of the car.
As they went through the back door, Darby breathed in the rich smells of grain and leather. Bags of feed—everything from chick scratch to broodmare chow—were piled to the ceiling, creating aisles.
They saw Cricket by stacks of baled hay. Her glasses had slid down her nose and she was peering over the tops of them, glancing between her clipboard and a tower of cardboard boxes.
She looked up at the sound of their steps and her businesslike smile broadened as she saw Megan and Darby coming toward her.
“Hey, girls!” she greeted them. “What’s up?”
They’d just started to explain when the phone clipped to Cricket’s belt rang. She held up one finger and answered it.
“Sorry,” she said to the caller. “I know, and I’ll be glad to write down your name, but—I know,” she repeated, then glanced up at Megan and Darby and mouthed something that looked like Tutu.
Could that be right? Darby decided she must have misunderstood.
“…last I heard she was back over Crimson Vale way. Good luck.”
“Someone called here looking for Tutu? Really?” Darby asked as Cricket hung up the phone.
“It’s been going on all week,” Cricket said. “Almost everyone who’s come in has seen Tutu or wants to get in touch with her.”
As skilled as her great-grandmother was as an herbal healer, Darby was amazed. Tutu made her remedies and poultices in the kitchen of her small cottage, working amid bamboo wind chimes, jars of plants, shells, and herbs at an old-fashioned stove.
Her great-grandmother had no phone, no Internet or fax machine, and yet she managed to be there when people needed her.
“No one considers her age,” Megan said, frowning.
“Not even her,” Darby added, but she knew Megan was right.
Tutu was Jonah’s mother and Jonah was in his fifties. Regardless of her good health, Tutu needed to catch a nap once in a while. Even her horse, Prettypaint, was old.
“Have you talked to the men from the ARC today?” Megan asked.
Cricket shook her head, but her eyes strayed to Darby.
“I know,” she said, still embarrassed. “Mr. Klaus and I didn’t exactly hit it off.”
Cricket chuckled. “You were pretty outspoken.”
“I hate helicopter roundups, and it felt like he didn’t even care if horses would get hurt. But, I—” Darby shook her head and swallowed hard. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I do,” Megan said. “You were the same way with Manny. You lose your temper when people hurt animals.”
“You don’t,” Darby said, turning to Cricket.
“I’m not thirteen years old,” Cricket whispered, and Darby laughed. From most other people, that would have sounded kind of uppity. But not from Cricket.
“There is that,” Megan said, then turned toward the front of the store as she heard a woman’s voice.
“Klaus isn’t a horse guy,” Cricket went on. “Or a people person for that matter, but he keeps an eye on government agencies, makes sure they stand behind farmers and ranchers. He’s big on efficiency, and you were trying to derail his plan. I’m sure he didn’t appreciate that.”
“Especially not coming from a kid,” Darby added. A whiny kid, she thought to herself, but Cricket just shrugged.
“Cute thing, though. Even though he’s not a horse guy, he’s getting kind of fond of Black Lava, yeah? He’s over at the high school every minute he can get away. If we don’t move the horses soon, he’s ordering water trucked in. Would’ve done it already, but we’re all out of troughs.” Cricket gestured at the store and Darby nodded. ‘Iolani wasn’t the only ranch being cautious about water.
But Megan’s mind had veered back to two mornings ago, when Darby and Ann had made their secret attempt to watch the wild horses.
“Awesome!” Megan cried. “The school gates will be unlocked if he’s over there. And Mom said we could probably go. And this time”—Megan jabbed a gentle elbow in Darby’s ribs—“you won’t get detention.”
“You girls want to help me unload this carton of fly spray?” Cricket asked.
They were almost finished putting the plastic spray bottles on a display, and Darby had just gotten the guts to ask Cricket about Honi, when the young woman said, “Since you girls aren’t in school, we could use you as volunteers over at the rescue barn. The Department of Health is going to start quarantining horses they think might be sick and some will be kept there.”
“Perfect,” Darby said, but Cricket was moving among cardboard boxes, using a box cutter to slash them open, and didn’t seem to hear.
“Taking precautions against salmonella—” Cricket glanced up to see their puzzlement. “Horses can develop it when they’re under stress and these sure have been. So, we’re scrubbing down every inch of every stall, every bucket, and every grain scoop. You name it and we’re disinfecting it.”
“As long as Jonah doesn’t need us at the ranch, I’m in,” Megan agreed.
“I’d like to do that,” Darby said.
“Great,” Cricket said. “I came into the store at seven this morning. I’ll be off at three and go over to the barn. I’ll work there until we’re finished.”
Cricket broke off to direct a customer to the bulletin board that listed livestock for sale and riding camps, and by the time she turned back to the girls, Darby had decided it would probably be better, and certainly more private, to talk with Cricket about Honi at the barn.
“We’ll let you know,” Megan promised.
“Just show up,” Cricket said.
At that moment, Aunty Cathy came down the aisle and joined them.
“Did I see Cade’s mom working at the front counter?” she asked Cricket.
“Yep. We put a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window yesterday, and I hired her this morning,” Cricket confirmed.
Darby looked at Megan. Dee sure hadn’t wasted any time in getting a job.
“What?” Cricket asked.
Darby knew Cricket had noticed their shocked expressions. Still, she said, “Nothing.”
Telling Megan about Cade’s deal with his mother was one thing, but Darby prided herself on not being a gossip. It would be wrong to tell Cade’s business, or to prejudice Cricket against Dee.
Besides, Cricket knew all about Manny. She’d been there when he was arrested. Kit had even hinted that Cricket was the one who’d called Mr. Nomi and made sure he was there to slap handcuffs on Manny as soon as it was safe to drive down the hill that ended at his taro patch.
So, Cricket knew Dee’s background.
Darby heard a slapping sound and saw Megan plucking at the blue plastic twine around a bale of hay.
Megan looked confused. She liked Cade. She didn’t want to spread rumors about his mother, either. But just then, she gave the twine an extra hard twang, as if she’d made a decision.
“Did you notice if she was smoking?” Megan asked her mother, but it was Cricket who gasped.
“She’d better not be. We’ve got a warehouse full of hay and other flammable stuff.” Cricket hustled off to the front of the store. “I’d better let her know that there’s absolutely no smoking allowed. See you later, yeah?”
“Listen, girls,” Aunty Cathy said. “If we’re going to stop by school, let’s get going. It’s about to rain again.” She nodded toward the front of the store. “I found a parking place
on the street.”
“Bye, Cricket,” Darby said as the young woman walked back over to them.
Cricket made an “okay” sign with her fingers.
“Thanks for the heads-up on the cigarettes,” she said quietly. Her eyes took in all three of them as she rewound her black hair and skewered it with a pencil. “And, Cathy, please tell them yes when they ask to work at the barn with me, yeah?”
They hurried up to the front door of the store.
Feeling guilty because Dee had to know they’d told Cricket about her smoking habit, Darby tried not to make eye contact with Dee at the cash register.
Darby thought she’d made it. Then, as she neared the door, Dee called to her—loudly.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey there, Miss Horse Charmer Junior!” Dee’s voice sounded cheerful, and no one could have missed hearing it.
“I think that’s for you,” Megan said.
Darby’s cheeks burned as two men looking at the silver-mounted headstalls turned to stare.
Since she couldn’t ignore Cade’s mother, Darby forced a smile before she even turned around. And she was glad she had.
Dee beamed proudly. She held out her arms as if she’d conquered this piece of Hawaii.
“Tell Cade to come see me at my new job!”
“I will,” Darby promised.
“One down and two to go!” Dee crowed. Then she punched a button on the cash register and when it beeped, she added, “Cha-ching!”
Megan must have told her mother the details of Cade’s bargain with Dee, too, because even when they were back in the Land Rover, Aunty Cathy didn’t ask what the woman was talking about.
With no pleading whatsoever, she drove toward Lehua High School, parked, and pulled a magazine out of the glove compartment.
“Thanks, Aunty Cathy,” Darby said. “We won’t be long.”
“No more than twenty minutes,” Aunty Cathy cautioned as they climbed out of the car.
“Yes, Mom.” Megan drew out the words to sound long-suffering and pitiful.
“And girls?” Aunty Cathy inquired with such scary slowness, they both froze. “When you get back, we’ll be having a talk about why Darby is on detention.”
They ran most of the way to the football field only to see the wild herd had been moved to the baseball field.
The Cyclone fences formed a corral for Black Lava’s herd, but they must be grazing behind the bleachers, because Darby didn’t see them.
The humid air crowded into her lungs, and she slowed to a jog when she saw Mr. Klaus standing at the gate with his arms crossed. He made a megaphone of his hands and shouted, “Sorry, girls! No one’s allowed near the wild horses.”
Megan rolled her eyes and slowed to a walk.
“He likes Black Lava,” Darby reminded them both.
“He’s just not a people person.” Megan tried to sound sympathetic, but when she repeated Cricket’s assessment of Mr. Klaus, she couldn’t contain a giggle.
Darby walked with her hands on her hips, still trying to catch her breath.
“What do you think the chances are that he’ll let me go on the horse drive, if I’m nice to him?”
“Zero,” Megan said, “and even if he does, Kit won’t, and even if Kit does, Jonah won’t, and—”
By then, Darby had a deep-enough breath for a loud sigh.
“Sorry, sis,” Megan told Darby as she hugged her shoulders, “but my mom’s already passed out a bunch of rules about me going.”
Darby’s hands slipped off her hips. She surrendered to reality, but she didn’t like it.
“I can’t ride Tango, for instance,” Megan said. “She wants me to ride Navigator, since, you know.”
Which meant that even if Jonah lost his mind and forgot his promises to her mother, Aunty Cathy would take a stand to keep her from going.
“So, if it’s hopeless, why should I be nice to him?” Darby grumbled when they’d nearly reached Mr. Klaus.
“Because you’re a lovely young lady?” Megan widened her eyes dramatically, and Darby was about to give her a shove when she noticed Mr. Klaus was very nearly smiling at them.
Until he realized who they were.
“I should’ve guessed,” he said.
“Hi, Mr. Klaus,” Megan said.
“Hi,” Darby echoed.
If she was going to apologize for yesterday’s behavior, now was the time. But what if he got the wrong idea about the helicopters? She’d back down from being a brat but not from protecting the horses.
He was already watching her suspiciously.
“Cricket told us you were keeping watch over the horses,” Darby said, “and we wanted to see if we could help out.”
He must have realized it was true, because he uncrossed his arms, opened the gate, and let them join him inside the fenced field.
“They’re over behind the bleachers, taking shelter from that wind,” he said.
The wind wasn’t cold, but it smelled stormy, Darby thought. Along with Mr. Klaus and Megan, she glanced up at a sky that had turned from morning’s bright blue to the sullen color of a bruise.
“More rain’s coming,” Mr. Klaus observed. “And the horses need it, but the troughs I ordered from Honolulu aren’t here yet, and we’ll be moving the horses out tomorrow.” He looked at Darby. When she stayed still and silent, he went on, “Until then, we’ve just got those plastic buckets and they’re drinking from water in the low places—over there by home plate, especially,” he said, pointing. “I wish the school—”
“Oh! I’ve got it!” Megan yelled. “Ever since Cricket mentioned they were out of troughs, I’ve been seeing this weird picture in my head, but now I know what it is! The bathtubs. They’ll be perfect!”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Klaus looked confused.
“Last year our school had bathtub races in the ocean. Each class had a team—you know, the freshmen, the sophomores—and we all had to make our own tubs,” Megan said.
“How do you do that?” Darby asked.
“They weren’t real bathtubs,” Megan explained. “More like little boats that looked like bathtubs, but they had to be able to float and hold a crew of at least four. Every year local companies compete down at Hapuna harbor, but this was our school version of it.”
“And they’re kept—?”
“In the old ball shed,” Megan said. “The new shed, where we keep soccer balls and cones and stuff like that, is locked, but the old one isn’t.”
The colorful tub boats were unwieldy, but not too heavy, and they got them out just as it began to rain.
“The horses probably wouldn’t come near this one,” Megan said, yanking at a tub painted with colorful scales. A plywood dragon’s head was attached to the front.
As soon as it was fully out of the shed, a commanding neigh blasted from behind the bleachers.
Neck arched, the black stallion emerged snorting, ready for battle.
“I don’t think he likes the look of it,” Darby said. “Should we leave it inside the shed?”
“I guess,” Megan said.
Even as they pushed it back inside the shed, Black Lava stood watch.
Soon the field boasted four tubs collecting rainwater.
Darby heard Aunty Cathy honk the Land Rover’s horn.
“We’ve got to go,” Megan apologized.
“This is wonderful,” Mr. Klaus said, rain dripping off his nose as he walked the girls back to the gate. “Thank you, ladies, so much. Would you like to come into the school and dry off?”
“No thanks,” Megan declined. “My mom’s waiting for us.”
“Well, thank you once again,” Mr. Klaus said.
Darby found herself waiting for him to say something like “I’m sorry for having misjudged you,” or “You are the two most capable young people I’ve ever met,” but it didn’t happen.
While Darby was waiting for Megan to climb into the Land Rover ahead of her, she glanced back at the field.
Black Lava strode ar
ound the old ball shed, stopping every few steps to sniff for trouble.
A guy can’t be too careful, Darby thought, and the stallion’s vigilance made her feel a little better about his upcoming move to Sky Mountain.
“Sorry to interrupt your good deed,” Aunty Cathy said as they fastened their seat belts for the trip home. She gestured with her cell phone. “Jonah called, and Kimo came back to work before he should have, and he says Tutu’s coming to the ranch, but he’d like me to see what I can do for Kimo in the meantime. It doesn’t sound like an emergency, but I guess Kimo refuses to stay in the bunkhouse to rest, so we get to be his jailers.”
As soon as they pulled up in front of Sun House, they saw a familiar, sturdily built figure walking toward them from the direction of the bunkhouse.
“Jonah was right.” Aunty Cathy shook her head as she parked the car and pulled on the emergency brake.
“Kimo!” Darby cried, nearly jumping out of the car. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Kimo said, but there was a wash of paleness over his tanned face and his eyes looked tired. “I’m on my way out to Pearl Pasture, but I just needed to sit a minute.”
There was no horse saddled and waiting for him by the tack shed, but Darby didn’t offer to catch one. Kimo didn’t look healthy enough to be out of bed, let alone riding and working in the rain.
“Tutu was at my place,” Kimo said, “and I tried to give her a lift over here, but someone told her about some sick horse, and she’s out looking for it on Prettypaint. Lady doesn’t know when to slow down.”
Megan cleared her throat loudly.
“You don’t be givin’ me the stink eye, Mekana. I’m good to ride. Biscuit is tied over on the other side of the bunkhouse, waiting for me.”
“Okay.” Megan sounded dubious, and when Kimo turned too quickly and put his hand to his head as if the movement had made him dizzy, Aunty Cathy reached for his arm.
“Cathy, now you get back.” Kimo waved her off. Then he headed toward the tack shed.
“That’s one stubborn cowboy,” Megan drawled.