“He killed something.”
“Yuk.”
“No fair.” The girls voiced their disapproval.
“Probably a ground squirrel or mouse. That’s the way of life. You want him to starve to death?”
“It could be he’s taking it home to his family.” Amy shaded her eyes with her hand. “He is so beautiful.”
After lunch the girls flopped back on the ground.
“I want to come up here every week.” Krissie rolled over on her stomach, clenching her lead rope in one hand. They’d removed their horses’ bridles and snapped lead lines to the halters. “If we lived in olden times, we could hobble our horses and spend the night.”
“The older kids get to take a pack trip up in the Sierra Mountains every summer. You have that to look forward to.” Amy tucked her gear back in her saddlebag.
“You ever done that?”
“Nope. Not yet, maybe next summer.”
DJ shook her head, too. You had to have your own horse for that trip. And she knew Amy had waited because DJ couldn’t go. Maybe by next summer she’d have a horse of her own. Not maybe. When.
“I want to go on the overnight.”
“Well, think positive, and you’ll make it.” DJ wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or to her students.
She breathed a sigh of relief when they rode back into the academy parking lot. They’d had a great time—not a single bee in sight.
“How did it go?” Bridget asked when DJ and Amy stopped in at her office.
“Fine.”
“Great.”
“Good, because the girls were bubbling over. Oh, DJ, your grandmother called. Said for you to hurry right home.”
“Is she all right?” DJ started for the door.
“She’s fine. She was laughing, said the phone has not stopped ringing. I think you two are going to be mighty busy young women. Just make sure you keep up with your chores around here.”
“We will.” DJ pushed Amy out the door ahead of her. Visions of a horse of her own jumped through her mind.
Saturday morning DJ and Amy arrived at the Academy before six to help load horses in the trailers to take them to the show. The first event would be at nine.
“Your mom and dad coming later?” DJ asked.
“Uh-huh. The boys, too. I have four events today.” Amy yawned. “Dad’s coming to help trailer Josh. Says he’s sure glad we don’t own a truck and trailer.”
At least you have a horse, DJ wanted to say but didn’t. Sometimes the little green monster of jealousy got her by the throat.
If only Diablo were here! How can I stand by and watch all the others out in the ring? She’d gone to sleep with that question and woke without an answer.
“Just keep real busy today,” Gran had whispered in her ear just before DJ went out the door. “I’ll be praying for you.”
“God, please help me.” DJ added a prayer of her own. Oh, Diablo, I miss you so!
By the time the sixteen horses were loaded, DJ had sweat pouring down her face and back. Hilary, the oldest and most experienced of the working students and a skilled rider in dressage, had to drive home to retrieve the duffel bag she’d forgotten. One family overslept. Bridget wore that stern look that said she’d get everyone there on time even if it killed her—and them.
After one longing look at Diablo’s stall, DJ hadn’t had time to give him another thought. “How come James isn’t here to load his own horse?” she muttered as she passed Amy, who was heading back into the barn for another animal.
“Got me.” Amy brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Today’s gonna be a scorcher.”
DJ clucked to Gray Bar, James’ Arabian filly. “Easy, girl. You just keep calm and we’ll all have a better day.” They trotted across the parking lot, Gray Bar dancing along with DJ. But the filly sat back on her haunches as soon as she touched her front feet to the ramp.
“We would have one troublemaker.” Hilary’s father, better known to the academy kids as Dad, stood beside the trailer. He’d been assisting Hilary since she was seven, so knew a lot about loading horses.
“Come on, girl.” DJ tugged on the lead rope. The filly snorted, her eyes rolling white.
“Walk her around in a circle and bring her up again,” Dad said in a soft but commanding voice.
DJ did as he instructed, but again Gray Bar balked. When DJ tugged the rope, the filly flung her head in the air and backed up fast. The sliding rope burned through her palm. Repeating the sequence, she followed the horse, this time keeping a tight grip on the lead.
“Let’s leave her till last. Why don’t you just walk her around and let her calm down.”
“Would it be better to wait for her owner?” asked one of the newer fathers. Dad shook his head. “DJ can handle her better than James.”
DJ felt a warm glow tiptoe into her chest. Leave it to Dad to always make her feel good. But when she led Gray Bar around the truck, there sat James on the bumper. The look he gave her doused the warm feeling like water drenching a fire.
When DJ offered him the lead rope, James shook his head. “You’re so good, you do it.”
DJ shrugged and kept walking. When they brought Gray Bar back around a few minutes later, she walked right up the ramp as if there’d been no fiasco. But DJ knew there’d been a problem. Her hand still stung.
DJ kept so busy helping the younger kids, she hardly had time to miss not being in the arena. Lost hair ribbons, making sure the entry numbers were pinned on the right rider, catching a loose horse—it was all part of a show.
Amy won three blues, her best ever.
“Congratulations, Ames. You looked great out there.”
“All the hard work with Josh here is paying off.” Amy chugged a can of soda. “These chaps are killing me. One more class and I can change to shorts.”
“DJ, I can’t find my saddle pad.” A worried-looking student interrupted their conversation.
DJ turned to find it and caught a glimpse of James in the ring. His horse was refusing the gate in the trail-riding event. Just as she’d done at the loading, Gray Bar backed up fast—so fast she threw James up onto her neck. DJ felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t wish anyone, even James, a fall in the ring. How embarrassing!
A few minutes later he stormed past her. “If you hadn’t gotten her so excited this morning, I might be doing better out there.”
The words and their tone caught DJ smack in the middle. “James Corrigan, I . . .”
He gave her a rude gesture and slammed the door on his parents’ motorhome.
“I wish you’d fallen!” DJ felt like yanking open the door and pounding him into the carpet.
By the end of the day, the riders from the Academy had garnered a good fifty percent of the ribbons, many of them blue or red. Bridget congratulated everyone while they loaded horses and weary kids.
“Any of you who want to come up to the house for a pool party afterward are welcome. Mr. Yamamoto and Mr. Benson have volunteered to bring pizza.”
A cheer went up. DJ was too tired to care.
Maybe having a stable of her own one day wasn’t such a hot idea after all.
“Tomorrow we have our first pony party,” DJ groaned later as she and Amy lay beside the pool. Most of the other kids were still in the water.
“I know. But there are only supposed to be five kids at this one. That should be easy.”
“Oh, it should be, all right.” DJ shook her head. “But after today, who knows what could happen!”
CHAPTER • 9
“No, Jamie, don’t feed that to the pony.”
DJ spun around at the sound of Amy’s voice. The five kids at the pony party now seemed like a squadron. With one hand DJ snatched the pink flower from the little boy’s hand, and with the other she set him back five feet. Then she returned to putting the cowboy hat back on the little girl seated on Bandit.
“No, don’t want no hat!” The child jerked the Western hat off and threw it on the ground.<
br />
Bandit sidestepped, the better to see the flying object. DJ followed, one hand on the pommel and the other holding the little girl in place. Amy hung on to the reins, trying to calm the pony, her camera on a strap around her neck.
“Who ever came up with this harebrained idea?” DJ muttered through the smile she kept in place for the child’s benefit. “Okay, no hat. Now hang on to the saddle horn—this thing”—she placed the girl’s hand on the horn—“and I’ll lead you around. Then smile for Amy and you’ll get a picture to take home.”
The little girl stuck out her lower lip.
DJ led her around the drive. Bandit stopped at the halfway point to make manure. Oops, should have brought a shovel. DJ looked up at Amy, who shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ll take care of it in a minute.” Amy snapped the photo. The little girl smiled and waved. Afterward.
By the last rider, it seemed as though they’d taken fifteen terrors around the circle. At least no one had fallen off or slipped. Amy went up to the door to ask for a shovel.
“Time for cake and ice cream,” the hostess mother called when she answered Amy’s knock at the front door. Three children ran right through the pile of manure and into the house.
“Icky,” whined the grumpy rider.
“Oh no, my white carpet!” The mother glared at Amy. “I hope this washes out. We just had the carpet installed last week.”
“It will.” Amy mentioned a brand of cleaner her mother used. “I need a shovel, please.”
“You certainly do. And I hope you’re not planning on putting that mess in my garbage can.”
“I could put it on your flower beds, it’ll help—”
“I should say not. I’ll bring the shovel. And the carpet cleaner.”
Amy turned back to DJ and raised her hands.
By the time Amy had cleaned the carpet and DJ the drive, the kids had eaten their treats, opened presents, and were ready to ride again.
“No, dears, the pony has to go home now.” The woman smiled brightly as she handed DJ an envelope with their fee in it in exchange for the stack of photos. “Thank you for such a perfect party. I’ll be sure to recommend you to all my friends.”
DJ and Amy looked at each other, shrugged, and headed for home.
“Go figure.” Amy shook her head. “The way she talked at first I didn’t think she’d even pay us.”
“It must have been her first time giving a birthday party. She was pretty uptight.”
“Who wouldn’t be with new white carpet? My mom says she’s not getting new furniture and carpet till all us kids are grown and gone.” Bandit snorted as if in agreement.
“What a good boy you were.” DJ stopped to rub the pony’s neck. “But you shouldn’t take bites out of the flower bed.”
“How’d it go?” Hilary asked when they hung Bandit’s bridle on his peg in the tack room. She wiped the sweat off her wide brow with the back of her brown hand and pushed back tightly curled black hair that refused to obey a ponytail clip.
“Oh, it went.” By the time they finished telling their tale, Hilary had collapsed on the tack box, tears running down her face.
“You poor kids, talk about a party! Now that all the bad stuff has happened, the next one’ll be a cinch.” She rocked back with her hands around one knee. “You are going to keep going, aren’t you?”
“We have to. We signed people up.” Amy counted on her fingers. “We have eight more parties to go.”
“And that’s if no one else calls.” DJ squeezed her eyes shut. “Next time I have a good idea, someone shoot me, okay?”
“Don’t tempt me.” Amy grabbed DJ’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “I gotta get home. And remember, you’ve got company coming for dinner.”
DJ groaned louder but let herself be led from the building. “Well, at least the next party will be profit.”
“Unless we buy a pooper scooper. You know, like the ones they use at parades.”
“I think the Academy has one. I’ll ask Bridget if we can borrow it.” DJ mounted her ten speed. “At least I’ll be able to put money in my horse fund after Tuesday.”
When DJ got home, the table was set in the dining room with a jade green cloth and matching print napkins—in napkin rings no less. Gran’s good china and sterling silver were set for four. Green candles flanked a low arrangement of peach roses.
“Wow, does this look cool or what? What’s the name of that man who’s coming?”
“Joe Crowder, Captain Joe Crowder.” Lindy turned from arranging salad on separate plates.
“Right. He must be something pretty special. It’s not Christmas or Easter, is it?”
“You just hustle up and shower. And no jeans. In fact, a dress would be nice.”
“That’ll be the day.” DJ pulled a can of soda from the fridge.
“I don’t need that kind of attitude right now.” Mom swiped a hair off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“I mean, I don’t have a dress to wear.” Surely her mother had lost her mind.
“A skirt then.”
DJ groaned. “Skirts are gross.” After popping the can top, she took a long drink. “Where’s Gran?” Her mother hadn’t done all the cooking—had she? That would be bad.
“She’s changing.” Lindy wrapped the salad plates in plastic wrap and set them in the fridge.
“What are we having?” Her mother’s skill ran to hamburgers or spaghetti. If it didn’t come in a box, she couldn’t make it.
“Are you going to get ready or not?”
DJ wanted to say “not” but thought the better of it. Her mother didn’t look as if she was in the mood for any teasing. “I’m going, I’m going.” She could at least have asked about our pony party, DJ thought as she climbed the stairs. Leave it to my mother not to ask. She’s more worried about a dinner party for a man she hardly knows than about her own daughter. If she gave it some effort, DJ knew she could turn this evening into a full-blown pity party. “Wow, Gran, you look amazing.”
Gran spun away from studying her reflection in the full-length mirror at the end of the hall. “I hope so. Your mother spent a fortune on this new outfit for me. I feel as if I’m on the auction block or something.” She turned so the skirt swirled about her calves.
“That looks like something you might have painted.” DJ fingered the gauze fabric. “All swirly and all shades of blue. Leave it to Mom to find the perfect thing.”
Gran turned and placed her hands along DJ’s cheeks. “Thanks, darlin’. How did the birthday party go?” Gran laughed in all the right places as DJ retold the story. “Well, I never. And to think she made you girls clean the carpet!”
“Amy did that.” DJ patted her jeans pocket. “But at least all our bills are paid. Now we can make some money.”
Gran took one more glance over her shoulder toward the mirror. “Well, here goes nothin’.” She started toward the stairs. “Oh, my stars, where’s my mind today! DJ, there was another call for you. A lady wondered if you could come tomorrow. Her clown called with the flu. I put the number on your dresser.”
“Thanks, I’ll call her now.” DJ dialed, dollar signs dancing in her head.
She could hear a man’s voice in the living room by the time she descended the stairs. Her skirt had been too tight, so she had improvised with a pair of dress pants and a striped blouse. No T-shirt and jeans. She paused at the bottom stair. At least the guy knew how to laugh.
Hearing a man’s laugh in their house was sure strange. The pastor from their church had been their most recent male visitor, and that had been ages ago. His laugh hadn’t had the deep, happy sound of the man’s in the living room.
“Hi, darlin’,” Gran said when DJ walked into the room. She beckoned DJ to her side. “This is my granddaughter, Darla Jean. She’s a real promising artist, but her first love is horses.”
DJ barely kept herself from wincing. Darla Jean. Only her Gran, and sometimes her mother, got away with calling her that. She didn’t want th
is stranger calling her that. “Darlin’, this is Joe Crowder.”
“Well, Darla Jean, I certainly am glad to meet you.” The voice fit the man. He took up half the living room, or at least seemed to. Shoulders straight and square like a military man’s, a crew cut gone silver, and cerulean blue eyes.
“I’m glad to meet you, too. Mom said you like horses.”
“You’ll have to meet my best friend sometime. His name is Major. I’ve ridden him in the San Francisco Mounted Patrol for the last ten years.”
“What’s he like?”
“Thoroughbred-Morgan cross. Sixteen-three. He has to be big to carry me. White stripe down his face, two white socks. He’s a blood bay, the prettiest red you ever saw when the sun glints off his rump. Even has a scar on his right shoulder where he took a bullet meant for me.”
“Really?”
“You ever watched the mounted patrol in action?”
DJ shook her head.
“Then I’ll have to take you and Melanie to watch one of our drills.”
DJ almost looked around the room for the Melanie he’d referred to. “You mean Gran?”
“Dinner’s served.” Lindy stopped in the doorway.
DJ rolled her eyes so only Gran could see. The look clearly said what she thought of the formality. But when Joe Crowder tucked Gran’s arm in one of his and angled out his other elbow for DJ to do the same, she went along with it. Who was this guy, anyway?
She was wondering even more by the end of the meal. He’d had them all laughing at his tales of life in the mounted patrol. And the stories about his family. He had three kids, two sons and a daughter. The daughter had two children, including a girl who was only a year older than DJ.
“Robert, my oldest, is a widower like me. He has five-year-old twin boys.”
“That must have been really hard.” Gran reached across the space and laid her hand on his.
“It was. To lose two women in our family in one year.” He sighed. “I can’t wait for you to meet them. I know they’ll like you . . .” He cut off the sentence, but his eyes said the rest.
DJ dropped her fork. She’d read about talking with your eyes before, but now she was seeing it in action. The way those two were looking at each other usually meant a love scene coming up in the movies.
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