“Great, she didn’t even mention what time we’re leaving.” DJ debated going downstairs and leaving a message on the machine herself, but instead she set her alarm for an early wake-up. She had to feed Major no matter what.
It wasn’t hard to pull off the silent act the next morning. By the time she returned from the Academy, Lindy was in a fit. DJ had barely ten minutes to get ready.
“And don’t you dare make us late,” Lindy yelled above the sound of the shower.
DJ soaped and rinsed as quickly as if she were a four-handed alien. There wasn’t time to wash her hair; she’d have to braid it in the car. Half dry, she dashed into her bedroom and into her underwear. Putting on a bra with a wet back wasn’t easy, but the real problem hit when she opened her closet: no dress pants. She’d forgotten to put her laundry in the dryer again.
“Mom, I’m gonna have to wear jeans,” she called, hunching her shoulders against the tirade she knew was coming, at the same time buttoning a teal blouse and adding a vest.
“Why can’t you at least dress up for church?” Lindy stopped in the doorway. “Where are all your good pants?”
“In the washing machine.”
“I can tell your chores are getting to be too much for you. You’ll just have to—”
The doorbell rang.
“We’ll discuss this later.” In her ivory silk suit and matching hat and shoes, Lindy looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Macy’s display window.
DJ grumbled under her breath, grabbed her suede shoes, and pounded down the hall. She snagged a brush and a hair band from the bathroom before leaping down the stairs. So she didn’t have dress pants on—she looked pretty good as far as she could tell. Jeans were always in style.
But they certainly weren’t her mother’s idea of a fashion statement.
The day went downhill from there. While the boys squirmed only a little during the opening prayer, they both let out soft whoops of joy when it came time for the children’s sermon and then children’s church.
Although the San Francisco church had beautiful stained-glass windows and a neat folk choir, DJ missed her Sunday school class.
At the restaurant where they went for brunch, Bobby—or was it Billy?—spilled his orange juice. While Lindy said it didn’t matter, the stain showed up bright orange on her silk skirt. DJ kept herself from laughing only through sheer strength of will.
As Robert scolded the culprit, DJ dropped her fork. Bending to retrieve it, she bumped her plate—which bumped her water goblet. The goblet tipped, and water spread across the tablecloth. For the second time that morning, Robert called the waiter for assistance.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t dare look at her mother. The vibes coming across the table told her enough.
“Accidents will happen.” Robert tried to smooth things over.
Bobby sniffed on the chair beside DJ. Billy acted as though he’d been scolded, too.
As DJ had thought, silence was the best defense, or offense, as the case may be—in this case, anyway.
Telling Amy about it the next day, DJ couldn’t help but laugh. “My mother does not like scenes in restaurants or church or anywhere.”
“Did you drop your fork on purpose?”
“Gimme a break. Even I wouldn’t dare do something like that.”
“Did you ask her about the jumping clinic at Wild Horse Valley?”
“Fiddle. How could I forget something like that?” DJ shook her head. “I’m losing it, I tell you.” They hopped off their bikes as they arrived at the Academy. “I’ll ask tonight. We’re having dinner at Gran’s.”
“Mrs. Johnson wants you to show Patches next weekend,” Bridget informed DJ when she and Amy stopped in her office to say hello. “I said it was up to you.”
“You think he’s ready?” DJ picked at her fingernail.
“It would be good experience for both of you.”
“Sure then. Why not?”
“Joe found his cutting horse yet?” Bridget asked.
DJ shook her head.
“I got a call from a friend who has been keeping an eye out for one. I missed Joe when he was here today taking care of Major. I will give him a call.”
DJ flashed Amy a grin. “He’ll be thrilled. Where is it?”
“Sacramento.” Bridget shooed them out the door. “You two have work to do.”
Tony was already in the ring practicing when they walked past. The two girls stopped for a moment to watch. The boy and horse moved as if they were welded together.
DJ felt a surge of envy. Tony and his horse were already at level two in dressage, and she had barely begun. The horse floated around the ring, each leg extended and then placed with precision. Tony didn’t seem to move a muscle.
“It’s just not fair,” DJ muttered, turning to the barns. “Tony is such an excellent rider, and yet he’s meaner than a—”
“Rabid skunk?”
“Yeah, and twice as smelly.” DJ picked up her grooming bucket and headed for Patches’ stall. She had plenty of work to do if they were going to show.
“Major, you must be the most willing horse in the world,” DJ said later after putting the big bay through his paces. She leaned forward and rested her cheek on his mane, wrapping both arms around his neck. “You are so easy to love.”
“Now that’s as nice a picture as I have yet to see. Wish I had a camera so Melanie could paint you.”
“Hi, Joe.” DJ straightened to see her grandfather leaning against the aluminum fencing of the jumping arena. “You hear the news?”
“Sure enough. Think we could go over there and look at him this evening?”
In her mind, DJ flashed to her backpack at home. All she really had to do tonight was read a chapter for history, and she could do that in the car. “Sure.” Then her excitement drooped. “I should ask Mom first. I thought we were having dinner at your house.”
“That was the plan. Lindy called and asked if we could put dinner off till tomorrow. Something came up at work she had to deal with right away.”
On one hand DJ thought, Figures, her work always comes before the rest of us, and on the other, she was thrilled to have the evening free. “Why don’t you ask her while I finish my lesson. Is Gran coming, too?”
“Yep. We’ll stop for dinner after we see the horse.” He held up one hand. “I know, I know—bring food, you’ll be starved.”
DJ grinned and blew him a kiss. “See ya.”
Her lesson with Bridget was a challenge. Bridget claimed that if you learned the finer points of jumping right the first time, it saved hours of relearning. But sometimes the first time meant weeks of drilling and redrilling.
And DJ loved every minute of it. Neither she nor Major resented the repetition. Jumping was jumping. Each moment they spent airborne, DJ felt like yelling for pure joy. One time around, she became aware of Joe watching from the sidelines, but she kept her focus on her hands, her feet, her seat, her posture, and Major. After each jump, she looked forward to the next—the height, the length, and the timing. At last, some things were becoming enough of a habit that she could concentrate on others.
“Very good.” Bridget met her at the gate when the lesson was over. “You can be proud of your granddaughter, Joe. And your horse.”
“Oh, I am. No doubt about it.” Joe stroked Major’s sweaty neck. “God gave me a gift here”—he laid a hand on DJ’s knee—“that I’ll never be able to thank Him for enough. That was some ride, kid.”
“Thanks, GJ.” DJ wanted to hug her horse, her grandfather, and even the fence post. For the first time in a while, Bridget hadn’t had to call her on concentration.
“By the way, DJ.” Bridget looked up at the rider. “Is there something you would like to tell me about Tony Andrada?”
DJ swallowed. She cleared her throat. “Ah . . . no, not really.” What was Bridget referring to? Had someone blabbed about the silent treatment? “Why?”
“Oh, a little bird told me about something going on in the bar
ns, and I have a feeling the hand of DJ Randall is all over it.”
DJ swallowed again. She couldn’t lie. Please, Bridget, don’t ask me any more. Especially not now with Joe here.
“I will leave it for now, but make sure no one gets hurt.”
DJ nodded.
“What was that all about?” Joe asked after Bridget left for her office.
“Tell you later.” DJ nudged Major forward. “If we’re going to Sacramento, we better get moving.”
Joe brought up the subject of Tony once they were on the road to Sacramento. DJ had already put away a soda, six chocolate chip cookies, and an apple.
She tossed the core into the garbage and wrinkled her nose, hoping that would help her think better. “Well, you’ve heard me say what a creep Tony Andrada is.”
“I gathered that he wasn’t your favorite student worker.”
“With good reason. He called Hilary a . . . ni—”
“DJ.” Gran’s gentle reminder made DJ stop midword.
“Well, that’s not the worst thing he’s called her, either. Is everyone from the South like him?”
“Darlin’, I’m from the South.”
“I know, that’s why I’m asking.” DJ thought about what she’d said. “But I don’t mean you, of course. Just boys. Come on, Gran, you know what I mean.”
“I do. And to answer your question, there are some people in the South—and other places, mind you—who think people with dark skin are of less value. It’s that old slaveholder mentality. Sometimes I wonder if discrimination will ever end.” She shook her head and turned to look at DJ. “But, darlin’, I know you don’t feel that way, and if more young people can grow up colorblind like you, our world will eventually become a better place.”
“In the meantime, what have you cooked up?” Leave it to Joe to bring the subject back to DJ.
“Well, Amy and I have a plan to deal with Tony.”
Gran groaned. “Heaven help us.”
“Gr-a-n!”
“You have to admit some of your plans haven’t worked out quite like you hoped.” Gran’s smile let DJ know she was teasing.
“I know, but this time . . . this time it has to work or Hilary will move her horse to another stable. That’ll mess up her whole life.”
“And your plan?”
“To ignore Tony. No one’s supposed to talk to Tony. We pretend he isn’t even there.”
“And Hilary?”
“She doesn’t know anything about it.” DJ took a bite of the cuticle on her right pinkie as she waited out the silence in the front seat.
“So, how is it working?”
“Don’t know. I haven’t talked to Hilary lately, and the only time I see Tony is in the ring. Since he goes to a private school, his hours are different from mine.” DJ clenched her hands in her lap. Why did she always want to chew her fingernails when she was uptight? She leaned her arms on the back of the front seat. “And you know what? Amy thinks he’s cute!”
“So?”
“So how can anyone be cute when he talks like Tony?”
Gran chuckled. “That’s one of the many things I love about you, darlin’. You look to the inside of a person, not just the outside.”
“You know, your plan does have a sound basis.” Joe caught DJ’s eye in the rearview mirror.
“Really?”
“Sure. Ignoring bad behavior is a good way to make someone change. But to make the program really effective, you have to go one step further.”
DJ unbuckled her seat belt so she could lean on the front seat without cutting off her circulation. “I hear you.”
“You have to compliment him for doing the right thing.”
“Right. The dinosaurs will return before I catch Tony doing something good.”
Joe smiled at her. “I’m sure if you try, you’ll find a way. And you better explain this addition to your plan to the others.”
DJ thought about phrases like a snowball’s chance in that hot place reserved for people like Tony and when cows have wings, but she kept them to herself. She did need to talk to the rest of the student workers, that was for sure.
She was still thinking about what Joe and Gran had said when they turned into an entrance arch with Denison’s Quarter Horses painted in white across the top. Board-fenced fields lined the drive, and a barking border collie met them at the gate to the low, rambling house off the circular drive. A man donned his felt Western hat as he came down the steps toward them.
“You the fellow who wants to see my young cutting horse?” He extended a hand. “I’m Hank Denison.”
After the introductions, he showed them where to park, and they followed him down to a shiny white barn. Horses blinked and nickered as he flicked on the light. “Rambling Ranger is right over here. I kept him in tonight when you said you were coming.” He took a lead shank off a hook on the wall and led the way to the third stall on the left. A bright sorrel head with a perfect diamond between the eyes and another smaller one between flaring nostrils bobbed in greeting. The horse wuffled, his nostrils quivering as Denison snapped the lead shank onto the blue nylon halter.
“He’s sixteen hands and three years old, as I told you on the phone, so he may grow a bit more. He’ll fill out, anyway.” As he spoke, Hank led the horse out of the stall. Both front feet had white socks nearly to the knees.
DJ fell in love. She looked up at Joe. His eyes were shining, too.
The horse moved with the natural grace of good confirmation and a style that came from excellent bloodlines. When Denison trotted, the gelding followed, his hooves clopping a steady rhythm on the hard-packed dirt.
“Let’s go over to the covered arena, and I’ll saddle him up for you. Now, remember he’s only begun his training. I haven’t worked him with cattle yet.”
Joe and DJ walked around the horse, studying him from all angles as Denison saddled him. DJ couldn’t find a thing wrong. How much was the man asking? She looked up at Joe. The silly grin on his face said it all.
“I’ll take him around a few times so you can watch him. Then you can try him out.” Denison mounted as he spoke.
DJ and Joe watched without a word, sharing a glance of pure excitement. When the man returned to the rail and dismounted, he offered the reins to DJ.
“You better ride him first, GJ,” DJ whispered.
Joe nodded. He stroked the horse’s nose, then mounted when Denison handed him the reins.
DJ watched as her grandfather moved the horse through his gaits, reined him from side to side, and tried to get him to back up. Only then did Rambling Ranger balk for the first time.
“He don’t like backing too much yet, but he learns quick.” Denison rubbed the cleft in his chin with one finger.
DJ was doing her best to control her excitement. After all, when you bought something, you were supposed to be cool about it, not scream, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” like she wanted to.
“You want to ride, kid?” Joe stopped the horse in front of her.
“Sure.” DJ changed places with her grandfather. She rode the horse around the ring, doing all the same things Joe had. “You’re a dream come true, you know that?”
The horse twitched his ears, but he still didn’t want to back up. DJ made him stand and then pulled firmly on the reins. Ranger shook his head but finally he backed—one step, then two. He sighed and kept on backing up until DJ let off the pressure. She patted his neck. “Good boy.”
Rambling Ranger was perfect, but could Joe afford a horse like this?
CHAPTER • 8
“You bought him? Just like that?”
“He really did.” Gran shook her head. “I knew I married a man who could make split-second decisions, and now I’ve seen him in action.” Gran patted Joe’s arm. “I’m glad for you, darlin’.”
“Why don’t we look for a horse for you while we’re here?” Joe covered her hand with his. “You have no idea what you’re missing when you can’t ride up in Briones with us.”
DJ watched se
veral expressions flit across her grandmother’s face before a slight dip of her chin indicated she disagreed.
“But, Gran, you’ve never ridden around here. Have you ever ridden at all?” DJ asked.
“When I was younger.” Gran reached up to stroke the gelding’s nose. “I’m just glad you two can have your dreams of showing. I’ll come along to cheer you on.”
DJ and Joe swapped looks. They were going to have to work on this. If they were to become a horse family, Gran would have to join in.
“So, when can you deliver him?” Joe turned to Denison and took out his checkbook. “I need to have a barn built, but in the meantime I’ll stable him at the Briones Riding Academy where my granddaughter works and rides. The owner, Bridget Sommersby, gave me your name.”
“Day after tomorrow soon enough?” Denison led Rambling Ranger back to his stall and removed the tack.
“That’ll be just fine.”
DJ felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. Any time she’d wanted anything, there’d always been a big discussion, a plan to earn or save the money, and then usually a big “no” from her mother. Horses and horse things weren’t high on Lindy’s list of priorities, unlike school and fashionable clothing and—DJ cut off that line of thought as she rubbed down the horse’s shoulder. Ranger sure was a beauty. He and Joe looked wonderful together.
She was still bubbling when she walked in the door at home and found Lindy and Robert looking through the photo albums DJ and Gran had spent so many hours putting together.
“Mom, you won’t believe it. GJ bought his horse!” She grinned at Robert, who sat beside her mother. “You got some dad there. Wait till you see him—the horse I mean. His name is Rambling Ranger, but we’re gonna call him Ranger.” DJ didn’t take time to breathe.
“Sounds like my dad all right.” Robert stretched his hands above his head. “I better get going. Full day ahead.”
High Hurdles Page 29