by Terri Farley
“I tried to be grateful, but I was still scared of him. So I avoided Cade and said snotty things, and finally my dad took me aside and told me Cade was like a tree with aerial roots, just splaying out in the air, looking for a place to sink down into the earth. And he said Manny, Cade’s stepfather, kept coming along and hacking off those roots with a knife, every time they started to find a safe place. Something like that. And he said I could help Cade’s roots reach the ground or keep hacking them off. It was my choice.”
Darby sighed. “Wow, I wish I’d met your dad.”
“Well, you might have understood him,” Megan said. “I was just too shallow.”
“No,” Darby said.
“All I knew was, Cade was this weird kid with a lump on his jaw, who was always carrying around a knife or a gun—” Megan broke off and tried to make a joke. “Is it any wonder he didn’t go to Lehua High? They would have arrested him!” Megan shook her head then, probably at how dense she’d been, Darby thought. “I just didn’t get it.”
“What kid would?” Darby asked. “I can sit here and think, oh, he was protecting himself, not threatening you, but if he’d come into my house? I would’ve been scared to death.”
Megan shrugged.
“Wait, you know what?” Darby had just remembered something. “When I first got here and I saw Cade, a guy slightly older than me, with this gun on his saddle, it totally creeped me out.”
Gray dusk pressed in between the trees. Half laying on the sleeping bag, propped up on her elbow, Megan stared into the twilight, then looked straight at Darby. “You know what happened, don’t you?”
Because Tutu’s account had been so brief, and Cade’s so sad, and because, to be totally honest, she wanted to see how the three stories fit together, Darby said, “I know some of it.”
“It was supposed to be this wonderful day,” Megan said. “My dad and Cade were working Tango around cattle to see how she’d do, and if she did all right, I was going to try her that afternoon with some of Jonah’s calves. He said Tango was ‘cowy’ and would make a good cutting horse.
“That night, we were all going into town, to have dinner out, and—what was that?”
Darby had heard the sound, too.
“Sort of like little tiny bells?” she whispered.
The rain had stopped while they were talking, but it still dripped off thousands of branches.
Then she heard a creak.
“Hoku?” Darby called. Her filly might have made that sound by leaning against the fence. She could have, except that Darby heard Hoku’s hooves trotting restlessly around her corral.
Something hard struck wood. Startled once more, Megan’s shoulder collided with Darby’s. The girls flinched apart, but only by a few inches.
The far-off musical sound came again.
“Something’s out there,” Darby said.
“Whatever it is just tripped,” Megan said sarcastically.
“No, it’s probably just birds.” Darby clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.
“In the night?”
“There are lots of birds out here,” Darby insisted.
“In the dark?” Megan replied, even more insistent.
“Haven’t you noticed all the birds?” Darby wished Megan would just agree with her.
“None that trip over downed branches.”
“Night’s not quite here,” Darby protested, but then a muddy squelch came to them both and the girls faced each other. “Okay, it’s not a bird.”
“It’s also not trying to be quiet,” Megan observed.
Hoku gave an uneasy whinny.
“Your horse hears it, too,” Megan said. For the first time, she sounded worried.
“It could be Cade,” Darby said. “He’s come out to bring me messages from Jonah. And you know how he’s supposed to have really good night vision.”
But after that, it was quiet for so long, they both relaxed.
When Megan spoke again, she sounded younger. “He could have saved my dad, you know, by handling the cattle better, or riding between the boar and Tango—”
“Megan, he was just a kid.” Darby didn’t mean to defend Cade, but Megan wasn’t being fair. “What do you expect of a thirteen-year-old?”
“You were twelve when you saved Hoku.”
“It’s not the same thing. No vicious animal was after us. Nothing was chasing Hoku except a helicopter, and it had already flown away, over the mountains. I didn’t do anything but wait with her until help came.”
“He could have done that, instead of riding after Tango.” Megan sounded both heartbroken and bitter. “My dad was his friend, his mentor. Cade could have done what you did for that horse—just stayed with him.”
Darby tried to calm her friend by saying, “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, she does.”
Darby gasped at the sudden male voice.
“She was there.” Cade walked into camp. His dark green poncho flowed around him. His spurs made a faint chiming.
Darby took a deep breath to steady herself, but if Megan felt startled, she didn’t show it.
“I was just leaving,” Megan said, but Cade shot her a look that said he’d have to be pretty stupid to believe that, since the girls were clearly settled down for the night.
Darby was glad Megan stayed put, but for a minute she felt invisible.
Megan’s and Cade’s eyes were locked in a silent war, until Cade said, “He told me to ride after Tango.”
Megan didn’t answer, didn’t move.
“You heard him,” Cade reminded her.
“He didn’t know what he was saying!” Megan snapped.
“He knew,” Cade told her. “Tango was your—”
“Besides that, you didn’t get Tango!”
Cade drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “I would have. I was following the blood drops on the leaves and dirt—” He paused as Megan’s arms jerked up and clamped around herself. “But I heard you—”
“Oh yeah, this is my fault,” Megan said. “Go ahead and say it. If I hadn’t screamed when I saw the pig go between Tango’s front legs, Dad wouldn’t have looked at me and lost his concentration. And if I hadn’t been crying over my dad, asking him not to die, you would have kept riding after Tango.”
“Megan,” Cade said, his voice filled with sympathy.
Megan made him stop, not by yelling this time, but she held out a hand, a sign for Cade to halt.
“You didn’t even cry,” Megan accused him, and Darby, looking between the two, thought this must be a new weapon in Megan’s arsenal, because Cade’s eyes seemed to darken in pain before he turned away.
But he didn’t leave.
Darby wanted to say something to keep her friends talking. But what? Jonah had been speaking of horses when he ordered her to trust her mana.
She pictured Tango standing right where Cade was now. Darby had been in the lean-to, and for the first time she’d seen the extent of scars so deep, the mare’s pink hair hadn’t covered them.
“Neither of you could have kept Tango from going over backward,” Darby said quietly.
Cade wheeled to stare at her. Megan’s voice rose in an outrage, as she yelped, “What,” and both of them glared at her.
“When that boar went between Tango’s front legs, he slashed her with his tusks,” Darby said.
“Darby, I know you’re trying to be nice, but just—”
“No, go ahead,” Cade told her.
“Yesterday I was close enough to Tango to see her underbelly, and she still has scars. Long ones.
“I’m not a super rider. I know that. But Tango had to be in pain, and terrified. I keep thinking about it, sort of from her point of view, and no matter what your dad did, I don’t think he could have stopped Tango from going over backward.
“The boar was ripping through her skin. If she tried to run right or left, he would’ve stayed with her. Bolting forward would have rammed his tusks in deeper. How else was she supp
osed to get away from him?”
Megan flashed a questioning look at Cade.
“It coulda been that way,” he said. “I remember thinking there was a lot of blood, when I was following her.”
“But we would have seen it happen,” Megan said. “Wouldn’t we?”
“The scars are on her belly,” Darby said, miming where they’d be on her own body.
“And we were both watching Ben, not Tango,” Cade said.
“So, there really wasn’t…”
Anything that anyone could do, Darby silently finished the thought. She was pretty sure that was the rest of Megan’s sentence, but Megan wasn’t ready to let go of what she thought she remembered yet.
Still, Darby felt that some of the tension in the clearing had lifted. She almost held her breath until Cade asked, “Megan, do you want a ride home? You know Joker will carry double.”
“I left Biscuit at Tutu’s,” Megan said, and it didn’t sound like an excuse.
“How about a ride as far as Tutu’s cottage, then?”
Now Cade’s generosity sounded forced, and Darby wished she could make him stop while things were relatively tranquil.
“If this downpour gets going, it’ll be a nasty ride back to Sun House,” he added.
“I’m staying with Darby tonight, Cade. My mom knows.”
“Okay, then,” Cade said, nodding. And then he turned, but not the way he’d wheeled around before. As he walked away, the chiming of his spurs lingered.
The shelter was crowded, but Megan dozed off before Darby had even turned the lantern down.
Darby lay awake for only a few minutes. She felt satisfied. Megan and Cade were on their way to being friends again. But her mind kept returning to Megan’s shrill accusation.
You didn’t even cry! Megan had said. Cade had looked ashamed, but maybe if you were a boy whose stepfather broke your jaw and your mother didn’t rescue you, your only chance to win against a monster like Manny was to refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.
Wasn’t it possible Cade had learned to control his feelings? And Megan had been too shocked and distraught to see what he’d felt for her father—his friend and mentor?
Drifting off to sleep, Darby heard thunder moving away. It reminded her of Jonah, talking of his mana’s silent thunder, and then it reminded her of hoofbeats.
She sighed and smiled, and once more, in her dreams, she rode Hoku.
Chapter 10
“My eyes hurt.”
The three words brought Darby awake, even though it was so early. Silvery mist hid everything outside her shelter.
“Can you see?” Darby croaked, then cleared her throat.
“It’s just from crying,” Megan said, giving Darby’s shoulder a shove. “I’m not used to it. My head hurts, too. I’m going to go home and apologize to my mom and hope she fusses over me and gives me aspirin before she forces me to go to school.”
“You could just be suffering from a chocolate overdose.”
Megan moaned. “Don’t tell me that’s all we had for dinner last night.”
“Okay,” Darby agreed.
They both laughed until Megan sucked in a breath. “Thanks for mentioning that stuff last night. About Tango’s scars.”
“No big deal,” Darby said.
A knee slammed against Darby’s back as Megan maneuvered her long legs from her niche in the shelter.
“I’ll move,” Darby said.
“Don’t.”
“Ow!” Darby said, using her elbows to pull herself out of the way.
“Sorry,” Megan said. “It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not going to let you go alone,” Darby protested.
“It’s not like I don’t know my way to Tutu’s cottage,” Megan said. “But you—Well, not to be mean, but in this mist, you’d have a hard time finding your way back. I’d rather not worry about you.”
Darby had a vision of herself wandering in circles, bumping into trees, and conceded that Megan was right.
“Okay, but take something to eat,” Darby said, pushing an apple and some jerky into Megan’s hands before she was ready to leave.
“About Cade—I don’t know what to say about how mean I was.” Megan swallowed so hard, Darby heard her. “Have you ever lost someone you love?”
Darby felt almost guilty for shaking her head “no.”
“You’re lucky,” Megan said. “Just hope it doesn’t happen until you’re old enough to handle it. I’m not.”
“You’re not doing such a bad job,” Darby said.
“Yeah, I only traumatized a kid who was already in bad shape.”
“I think Cade’s tougher than that.”
“I hope so,” Megan said, tucking her shirt into her jeans. Then she looked up. “Hey, you know, I heard Kit and Kimo talking about you. You know what Kimo said?”
“I’m afraid to hear it,” Darby said, because as much as she liked Kimo, her strongest memory was him telling her mo bettah you ask when she’d messed up instead of asking for help with the horses.
“No, it’s good. They were talking about you coming out here on your own and Kimo said, ‘That Darby, she’s one smart, can-do keiki.’” Megan broke off to touch her lips, gently. “I could do Kimo’s voice better if it weren’t so early. Anyway, Kit nodded about ten times and then, you know, in that slow buckaroo way he does? He said, ‘Yup, the can-do kid. That ’bout sums it up.’”
Darby managed a self-conscious mutter. “They didn’t say that.”
“Like I’d make it up,” Megan said, snagging the handle of the empty lemonade jug.
Megan had taken a few steps, and Darby had settled back down in her sleeping bag when Megan said, “Darby, are you sure?”
Darby raised up on one elbow. “Sure?”
“That the horse is Tango, I mean. Does she have a little whirly thing”—Megan touched her forehead—“here?”
“Yeah, she did,” Darby said, smiling. “And you’d better come back soon, because even though you’d probably have a lot easier time catching her than I would, I’ll probably try it alone.”
“You will?”
“I can’t help it.” Darby shrugged. “I just know I will.”
Invisible in the fog, a bird made a clacking noise from a branch overhead.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Megan said finally, and as she hiked off into the foggy forest, Darby raised her fist in victory.
After Megan had gone, Darby found that her intense desire to ride Hoku had faded. Cade and Megan had already provided way too much excitement. Emotional stuff always tired Darby out more than physical exertion, and what she really wanted was to sit and read.
She’d brought along a book from Jonah’s library. It was about Hawaiian wildlife, and she’d taken it into Hoku’s corral to read while she kept the filly company.
It wasn’t easy to find a dry spot where she could sit and read comfortably. Yesterday’s rain had turned the low spots into puddles or bogs.
Hoku had found the dip under her corral gate and decided it was pretty amusing to dig and splash and turn her fiery coat mud brown. The filly had made the big puddle so deep, Darby knew she should fill it with dirt before they left at the end of the week.
At last, Darby found the perfect patch of sunlight—not too hot, just cozy—on the highest point inside Hoku’s corral, directly across from the gate where she’d been sitting yesterday.
She haltered Hoku and snapped on her lead rope, threw out some hay for the horse to munch, then settled with the book and read.
Suddenly, they both heard snuffling.
Darby jammed the postcard she was using as a bookmark into the book. She set the book aside, dropped the lead rope, climbed the fence, and clinging to the top rail, scanned the clearing, trying to see where the sound was coming from.
She was just in time to see a black pig lurch up from the stream bed, drooling.
His four tusks were the bone yellow of a smoker’s teeth. Two tusks on
top and two on the bottom, all curved out, then pointing up, except one, which looked like it had broken off in a fight.
Jonah had been right. This was no fairy-tale pig.
Bristles on his shoulders looked bushy as a lion’s mane. His backbone’s crest of coarse hair had blondish points. His hairless tail wasn’t curly, and the way his pointed ears stuck straight up would have made him look alert, except that he was weaving and stumbling as he came toward the corral.
He must be sick, Darby thought, because wildlife came out at dawn or dusk, and this wasn’t either one. He wasn’t swift and agile like a wild creature should be, either. He staggered.
The pig made a sound that was more bawl than oink, and Darby felt glad that she and Hoku were safe inside the corral.
She glanced at her horse. Frozen with curiosity on the far side of the pen, the filly stared, then she made a strange circular swing of her head and bared her teeth.
Just stay where you are, Darby thought. It was her job, not Hoku’s, to scare off the pig.
“Get out of here!” Darby yelled, but the boar only increased his pace until he was running.
He slammed into the fence. Darby almost lost her grip as the impact telegraphed through the fence rails.
“Shoo! Go away!” She bellowed loudly enough that the animal should be terrified, but he only threw his head to one side, masking himself in his own slobber.
Darby dropped back inside the corral and scooped up some small rocks. The first one she threw hit the fence. Another arced over the top rail, but the pig ignored it. Then, grunting and shoving his face along the ground in just the way she’d imagined pigs would root, his nose splattered into Hoku’s favorite puddle.
When Darby saw the black snout reach under the fence, she used both hands to throw the rest of the rocks. They rained down on the fence and dirt, but one must have hit the pig’s eye, because he blinked rapidly and was still.
For a few seconds, Darby thought she’d driven him off, but she was wrong.
The boar angled his entire head under the fence, then squealed at the tight squeeze he’d gotten himself into.