High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Why is everybody picking on me?” Joe winked in the rearview mirror. He parked the car in front of where the garage used to be, before the fir tree crashed onto it during a storm. Getting out, he shouted, “Andy, come protect your old man. These females are ganging up on me.”

  “Fight your own battles—that’s what you always told me.”

  “You want any help, ladies?” Sonja, Andy’s wife and Shawna’s mother, called.

  Still teasing and laughing, they all picked up the plastic-wrapped trays, boxes of supplies, and container holding the leftover cake and trooped into the house.

  “I think we ordered too much food.” Gran surveyed her oak table now hidden beneath the stack. Boxes nearly covered the delft blue counter tops, too, and some perched on the stools with blue-and-white print cushions. Like Gran herself, the kitchen always welcomed guests with food and comfort. And right now there was plenty to eat.

  “Told you so.” Joe sidestepped her poking elbow.

  “Sure, after we got to the reception. Where were you when the ordering was going on?”

  “As far away as possible.” He handed Sonja two of the trays so she could find a place for them in the refrigerator.

  “We’re going to the Academy,” DJ said from the door, where she was pulling on her boots. “See ya.”

  “You want a ride?” Andy asked.

  “Nope, that’s what feet are for.” DJ stopped at the door. “You can come pick us up if you want. Unless, of course, Joe can find the energy to come take care of his horse. What with his sore shoulder and all.” The two girls ducked out the door, the dish towel Joe threw missing them by inches. “You missed!” DJ yelled back.

  After jogging the mile to the Briones Riding Academy, DJ and Shawna groomed the horses in double time and before long were walking Major and Patches around the covered and lighted arena. Across the parking lot, the long, low red stables nestled against the hill, with outdoor stalls stairstepping the grade behind. The Briones Academy was home to horses and riders of every caliber, from beginning kids to adults wanting a refresher, from hobby riders to those like DJ who dreamed of the big time.

  “Cool it, horse,” DJ commanded. Patches twitched his tail and flicked his ears back and forth. DJ made him halt. “You keep going, Shawna. Just remember all you’ve learned in the past.”

  “I know, heels down, back straight, hands relaxed but in contact with his mouth.”

  DJ looked up to catch the proud look on her cousin’s face. “Right you are.”

  Patches shifted from one front foot to the other. His tail swished from side to side.

  “He’s not very happy, is he?” Shawna asked.

  “No, he’s being a brat. And, horse, I’ve had it up to my eyebrows with brats today.” DJ tightened the reins. “You are going to stand here until you can behave.” When his ears finally pointed forward, DJ squeezed her legs, making sure she was settled deep in the saddle. They circled the ring a couple of times at the walk, then DJ signaled a jog.

  Patches pulled at the bit but otherwise settled down, ears checking out the other horses in the ring, the sunshine-and-shadow patterns on the sand, a sparrow cheeping from the rafters above.

  “Your rising trot is looking good.” DJ jogged up even with the trotting Major.

  “Major is such a cool horse. You think he knows I’m a beginner and is being extra nice for me?”

  “Yup, he knows you’re a beginner and nope, he’s that way for everyone. Just like Joe, Major likes to take care of people.” DJ smiled at Shawna.

  Without warning, Patches arched his back, turning bronc before DJ could stop him. Her seat lost contact with the saddle, and she flew up into the air. “Fiddle!”

  Chapter • 2

  DJ slammed back into the saddle and clamped her knees tight.

  Patches snorted, fighting to get his head down.

  “You are not going to dump me this time!” Teeth clenched, DJ hauled on the reins. Maybe whoever rode this fool horse should take lessons in bronc riding before mounting him. She always told his owner, Mrs. Johnson, to put him on the hot walker first to take the edge off his energy. Maybe she should have taken her own advice.

  Within two hops, she had him moving forward again.

  “DJ, you all right?” Shawna asked.

  “Yeah, I am, but this broomtail isn’t.” She kept contact with Patches’ mouth, her legs and seat driving him forward. How did he know the exact moment she shifted her attention? Did he have eyes in those constantly moving ears of his? All she’d done was look over at Shawna.

  Patches kept his ears flat against his head, his tail doing the double twitch. He attempted a sidestep, but DJ knew his tricks and kept him in a forward motion.

  “No, you can’t lope until you can behave at a jog. Loping is a reward for good behavior.”

  Patches’ ears now flicked back and forth. He let out extra air with a whoosh and settled into a ground-eating, relaxed walk.

  DJ let out a matching sigh and allowed herself to enjoy the ride. “How am I ever going to calm you enough for your owner to ride?” she asked. “You pull one like that on her again, and she’ll send you to the dog food factory.”

  “Would she really?” Shawna asked, concern wrinkling her fore head.

  DJ shrugged. “Would serve him right—wouldn’t it, you broomtail, you.” After patting Patches’ already sweat-dotted neck, DJ dared to glance at Shawna. “He just has to test his rider, make sure she knows who’s in charge. He’ll settle down as he gets older. I hope.” She patted Patches’ neck with one hand again, keeping the other securely on the reins. “He’s smart, learns fast when he wants to, and is comfortable to ride. I’ve got to start taking him up in the park so he learns trail-riding. The Johnsons want to ride as a family.”

  “I’d sure like that. Wish my mom and dad wanted to ride.”

  “How do you know they don’t?” DJ squeezed her legs just enough to signal Patches he could jog now. They circled the ring, with DJ giving Shawna suggestions on riding skills, reminding her to watch her aids. If DJ didn’t know better, she’d think she’d turned into a clone of Bridget Sommersby, their teaching sounded so much the same. Bridget, once a world-class contender in jumping, owned Briones Riding Academy and trained both horses and riders of all levels.

  “There’s so much to think about, I forget some things.” Shawna straightened her back and lowered her heels.

  “I know, but it gets easier. For the little you’ve ridden, you do great.”

  An ear-to-ear grin split Shawna’s face. “Thanks.”

  After DJ set Shawna to trotting around the ring, then turning and going the other way, she worked Patches through figure eights at both a jog and a lope, halts, backing up, and standing still. The last was the hardest. At least he would stand still now for mounting and dismounting, which she did several times.

  Other riders called greetings, with Tony Andrada teasing her about bronc riding. When Tony first came to the Academy, he’d been such a jerk that DJ still found herself wondering who this new person was. DJ had drawn a portrait of Tony’s horse when she drew his name for the Academy Christmas party, and Tony reminded her every once in a while how much he liked the picture.

  DJ mounted for the third time and trotted diagonally across the arena to catch up with Shawna. “You about ready to call it a day?”

  “If we have to. I wish I never had to quit.”

  “You’d get a mighty sore rear, riding all the time.”

  “DJ! You know what I mean.” Shawna stopped Major by the gate. “Hi, Grandpa Joe. When did you get here?”

  “Not in time to ride with you two. But Ranger is fed, and some nice person took care of food for this old horse, too.” He stroked Major’s nose and up around his ears. “Did he behave for you?”

  “Sure. I had the greatest time.”

  “She says she wants to ride forever.” DJ leaned forward to open the gate, something she’d risked only a time or two with Patches. His tail swished, but other than tha
t, he held steady.

  “Would tomorrow be soon enough? As far as Gran and I are concerned, you’re welcome to spend the night. Maybe if the weather stays decent, we can ride up into Briones State Park.”

  “You mean it?” The younger girl rode through the gate after Patches and DJ.

  But when DJ tried to close the gate from Patches’ back, the horse shook his head, and instead of going forward, he backed up. When DJ tried to close it again, he sidled away, snorting at the gate as if he’d never seen one his entire life.

  DJ tried again, but when Patches still refused, she turned back to trot another round of the arena.

  “Come on, let’s go feed this old boy.” Joe headed Shawna toward the barn. “She might be a while.”

  But without an audience, Patches gave up. Once he’d allowed her to close the gate without a fuss, DJ took him back to the barn.

  Later, back at Gran’s, Shawna asked her mom and dad if she could spend the night. When they agreed, she flung her arms around Andy’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Easy, I can’t come get you with a broken neck.” Her father hugged her back and tugged her down on the sofa between Sonja and him. “So how’d the ride go?”

  “We going to eat soon?” DJ asked, wandering into the kitchen as Shawna began to tell her parents all about it.

  “I know, you’re starved,” Julia Gregory, Joe’s daughter, said with a laugh. “You must be a teenager.”

  “Yup. Gran says I have a hollow leg.” DJ raised her right knee. “It’s this one, I think.”

  Julia sighed. “You know, it’s just not fair. You eat whatever you want and never gain an ounce, and I just look at a hot-fudge sundae and an inch blossoms around my hips.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a couple of inches in some places.” DJ snagged a chicken wing from the platter Gran set on the table.

  “Don’t rush it. The tall, willowy type like you will always be in style.” Julia studied DJ with a smile. “I’d give anything for a swan neck like yours.” She pulled at the neck of her mock-turtle shirt. “Oh to be able to wear a real turtleneck without looking like a turtle.”

  Willowy? Me? DJ stopped chewing on the chicken wing. Flat is more like it. She kept the thoughts from becoming words and glanced over at Gran. She wore that I-told-you-so look that bugged DJ to no end.

  “Don’t say it.” She waved the chicken bone at her grandmother.

  “I didn’t.” Gran held up her hands.

  “No, but you were thinking it.”

  “Can’t help thinking the truth.”

  While DJ frequently complained about being flat front and back, both Gran and her mother told her to quit griping.

  “I sure wish my girls could have come along,” Julia said with a sigh. “They don’t know how much fun having cousins around can be. By the way, DJ, Allison thinks you can walk on water. You got to be her hero when we were here for Thanksgiving.”

  “Just because I can ride a horse?”

  “Well, that, too, but you gave her a ride and paid attention to her. Doesn’t take much, you know.”

  “She’s a neat little kid.” DJ didn’t mention Meredith, Julia’s oldest girl, who’d been a royal pain in the patootie. She let everyone know she’d only come because her mother made her. And she wasn’t happy about it—or about anything else.

  “Living clear across the country like we do makes it hard to feel like part of the family. The girls don’t even have the chance to really know their grandparents.”

  “They’re missing out. Gran and GJ are the best.”

  “GJ? Oh, I get it.” Julia smacked the flat of her hand against her forehead. “Grandpa Joe. We’ve got DJ and GJ. C-l-e-v-e-r.”

  DJ liked both Julia and her husband, Martin, from even the little time she’d spent with them. “It would be neat if Allison could come stay awhile this summer. Maybe by then the boys will have a pony.”

  “Or two,” Gran added. “Darlin’, go call the others to come eat.”

  Shawna came spinning through the doorway just as DJ turned to round up the crowd. “Guess what? Dad says we might move out here to the country. By you guys! Wouldn’t that be the most awesome thing?

  “And he said I could take riding lessons on Saturdays from DJ if she wants to teach me so I can ride better, and he said he always thought he might like to ride, too, and we could all go riding up in the park and …” She finally had to pause for a breath. “So would you … I mean, could you? I mean—oh, DJ!” Shawna leaned against the wall. “Maybe I’ll really get to have a horse of my own, just like you do.”

  “That would be awesome, all right.” DJ thought of the discussions she’d had with Amy Yamamoto, her all-time best friend, about cutting back on some things so she didn’t feel pressured all the time. Teaching Shawna would certainly add to the load. “But you have to check with Bridget first. Remember, she owns the Academy.”

  Andy joined them, planting both hands on Shawna’s shoulders and drawing her back against him. “We’d pay you for the lessons, just like everyone else. And, yes, I understand we have to go through Ms. Sommersby. Are you sure you have time for another student?”

  “Shawna’s doing so well that with some more private lessons, she could maybe join my other girls. She’d like the others, even though they ride Western. Come on out to watch a class sometime and see what you think.”

  “Please, Dad, Mom, can we?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “That means yes.” Shawna nodded at DJ.

  Her father swatted her on the seat. “Let’s go eat. Gotta keep up our strength for all this horse stuff.”

  After the meal, DJ brought out her small sketch pad and took her place again. Everyone sat around the table, picking at the leftover treats and sharing stories they remembered from the past. While she listened and at times contributed stories of her own, DJ drew two nearly identical pictures of a colt peering out from behind the veil of her mother’s tail. She added the diamond between the eyes and a line down to a smaller one on the baby’s nose. She signed it Storm Clouds by DJ Randall and gave one to Shawna.

  “Here, give this to Allison,” she said, handing the other to Julia.

  “You couldn’t give her anything to make her happier.” Julia held it up for all to see. “I knew you were an artist, but, DJ, you’re only fourteen. This is amazing. What an incredible talent you have.”

  “I have a good teacher.” DJ nodded toward Gran.

  “Just say thank you, darlin’. God gave you the talent—I just helped mold it a bit.” Gran beamed the kind of smile that warmed DJ clear down to her toes.

  “You are taking art classes, aren’t you?” Julia continued to study the pencil drawing. “I can’t believe how you can catch such personality like this. That baby just sparks with mischief, yet the whole picture is of utter peace. I swear I can even smell the hay and the horses.”

  DJ could feel her neck heating up. The urge to chew on her fingernails made her hide her hands under her thighs.

  “I’m going to frame this before Allison sees it. I seem to remember you did note cards, too. Do you have any more of them?”

  DJ shook her head. “But it wouldn’t take long to print some.”

  “You ever thought about putting them in card shops—the packets of note cards, I mean?” Julia looked up from studying the picture to gaze at DJ.

  DJ shrugged. “Not really. Bridget carried them in the tack shop at the Academy, and they went pretty fast. Guess Amy and I kinda forgot about them after Christmas and all. She had some of her photographs on hers.”

  “I remember.” Julia nodded and nibbled on the side of her lower lip. “If I could get a friend of mine to stock these in her shop, could you produce enough?”

  “I guess. How many?”

  Sonja leaned forward to scoop dip with a rippled chip. “I bet I could sell some where I work, too. I used the ones you gave me as thank-you cards and got raves about them.”

  “Let me check into it.” Julia turned to Gr
an. “Do you have any file folders or an envelope I could put this in?” Her eyebrows flicked upward as she asked DJ, “Could I show my friend this one, too?” She motioned with the drawing still held in her hand.

  “Sure.”

  Julia and her husband reluctantly said good-bye when the clock in the living room bonged ten times. After spending the night at DJ’s house, they would fly home early Sunday morning. “You’ll hear from me soon,” Julia promised after giving DJ a big hug. “I am so proud to know you. That big brother of mine got a real gold mine when he found you and your mother.”

  “Thanks.” DJ hugged her back. “Thanks a lot.”

  Shawna’s parents left soon after, with promises to see them the next day.

  “You’re going to be a famous horse artist one day,” Shawna said later from the sleeping bag spread beside the bed. “And I got one of your early pictures. That is so cool.”

  DJ grinned and reached down to tousle the girl’s hair. “You are cool yourself. Sleep fast.”

  “So we can ride up in Briones! I can’t wait.”

  Possibilities raced through DJ’s head. What if the cards sold well? What if they didn’t? Wouldn’t it be fun to make more? Wait till she told Amy about this!

  She thought, too, about the way Shawna and her dad could talk and tease each other. Maybe she had been missing out on something by not having a father all these years. She turned over and tucked the comforter more tightly around her shoulders. Well, now she was going to—no, change that—she now had two fathers. And while the newest one had forgotten to hug her good-bye, the other sure hadn’t.

  DJ fell asleep while thanking God for the filly who waited for her at Brad’s farm and for the chance to ride up in Briones after church in the morning.

  Shawna could hardly sit still through church. While clouds had covered the sky when she, Joe, and DJ went to feed the horses, sun now painted the shiny floor with reds and oranges and browns from the stained-glass windows.

  “Are you going to ride Patches?” she whispered at one point.

  DJ shook her head. “I’ll saddle Bandit for you.” The gray pony’s owner had said she could use their pony any time. She was already using him for little Andrew Johnson’s lessons.