“Andrew asked a lot of questions,” Joe continued. “You have him in class tomorrow, right?”
“How will he get there? She usually brings him. She can’t drive yet, can she?”
“No, but Mr. Johnson said he would take a couple of days off work to make it easier for her. When I left, she was tucked up on the sofa, grumbling about being such a baby. As they say, nurses and doctors make the worst patients.”
“I should have—”
“Darla Jean Randall, if I hear one more ‘I should have’ out of you, I’m going to personally tape your mouth shut.”
“Joe Crowder!” DJ heard Gran say in the background.
DJ couldn’t help but giggle. Gran sounded horrified.
“Hey, kid, there was nothing anyone could have done, other than keep that cat in the house.”
“I think it was Bridget’s cat.”
“Well, there you have it. I’ll go yell at Bridget about how to take care of her livestock.”
Instead of her homework, DJ drew a cartoonish picture of Patches looking forlorn, his eyes more like those of a basset hound than a horse’s. The caption inside read, I’m sorry. DJ signed it Love, Patches and From me, too. Hope you heal fast. DJ.
She got the academy roster from her desk drawer and addressed the envelope. She was rummaging in the telephone table for a stamp when the twins hit the door, shouting for her as they advanced. By the time they’d given her the hot-fudge sundae they’d brought home, told her all about the school, the clown who made balloon animals, the music, and their teacher, besides the upcoming calendar of events, it was past their bedtime. While Robert and Lindy put them to bed and settled them down, DJ got started on her homework.
Robert and Lindy said good-night to her from the door. “And don’t stay up too late,” Lindy added. “You look like you need extra sleep, not less.”
DJ only nodded. “Night.”
They never even asked how my day went.
DJ must have relived the accident fourteen times in her dreams that night. When the alarm buzzed, she felt like she’d just gone to sleep.
She flunked her algebra test.
At the Academy all anyone could talk about was the accident. No one had been seriously hurt on the Academy grounds for years. DJ escaped to the horses.
“At least you can’t talk about her,” she said to Patches as she groomed him for his workout. He snorted and rubbed his forehead against her shoulder, then nosed her pocket for another chunk of carrot.
“Good thing you got hot-walker time, huh?” She patted his neck, already dotted with sweat as he checked out every shadow and movement in the arena. Just jogging him around the oval made her arms tired, the way he pulled at the bit and jigged. Of course, today, every part of her already felt tired. She didn’t try to do anything but calm him down for the first half hour until he finally walked flat-footed, jogged, and even loped on an even beat. “I should have kept you out here yesterday to get you over this then.”
“No more ‘should haves.’ ” Joe jogged Ranger up beside her.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Oh, I’ve been here awhile. You were so focused on Patches, you just didn’t see me.”
“Fine.” DJ meant it was anything but. She should have been aware of the entire arena. But she knew better than to say that aloud.
“What’s up? You look like you lost your last friend.”
“I might have. Here Robert has been coaching me and—”
“You’re talking about algebra, I take it?”
DJ nodded. “I flunked my algebra test today, and I have to show it to my mother. It’ll be a hundred years before I can ride Major again or talk on the phone.”
Patches sidestepped and snorted, his ears nearly meeting at the tips.
“Now what?”
The horse backpedaled in hyperspeed. “Come on, Patches, there’s nothing there.” DJ stopped him and stroked his neck until he calmed down. When he went forward at a walk, she turned again to Joe, who had waited for her.
“On one hand, I hope she sells him and gets a more dependable horse, but on the other hand, I’ll really miss this clown. He’s going to be a really good horse when he settles down.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Yeah, right.”
After putting Patches up and working with Omega, still on the lunge line but now bridled and under a saddle with the stirrups removed, she took a few minutes with Major. “Joe said he would ride you, but he had to go home to help Gran with the boys.” Major nodded and snuffled her cheek. “Sorry I can’t take you out.” He leaned against her, inviting her to scratch up around his ears. She did so, calling herself all kinds of names at the same time. When she screwed up, she did it big time. If only there was some way to get out of algebra.
“Hey, DJ,” Angie called. “Guess what?”
DJ plastered a smile on her face. “What?”
“They got me on some new medicine that is really working. I haven’t had an asthma attack for weeks.”
“Hey, cool!” DJ gave Major a last pat and left his stall. “The dust from your horse doesn’t even bother you?”
Angie shook her head. “Nope. I can breathe.”
DJ gave the slender girl a hug. “Now you won’t have to miss so many lessons.”
“I know. And someday I’ll be able to ride like you.”
I just hope your mother doesn’t ground you from riding like mine does. The thought brought a small spurt of anger.
Krissie and Samantha were tacking up their horses when DJ stopped to talk with them. “Anyone seen Andrew?”
They all shook their heads.
“Did his mom really break her arm in a fall?” Krissie’s blue eyes were round.
“She was thrown.” Samantha looked to DJ. “Right?”
DJ nodded. “Accidents happen. That’s why you have to concentrate on your horse and all that’s going on around you at the same time.”
“That cat.” Sam shook her head, setting her long, thick braid to swinging.
“DJ?”
DJ looked up at the male voice calling her. “Hi, Mr. Johnson. Hi, Andrew.” She left the girls and joined the man and his son. “How’s your mom, Andrew?”
“Her arm hurts bad.”
“It’ll get better soon.” He wore that shuttered look from back when she began working with him. “Come on, let’s get Bandit tacked up. The girls are all ready.”
“I’ve gotta run,” Mr. Johnson said. “Have a good class, Andrew. I’ll pick you up in …” He looked toward DJ.
“Oh, about an hour and a half.” She waved back and put an arm about Andrew’s shoulders. “You groom Bandit, and I’ll help you.”
DJ turned to face her waiting students. “You girls go on out to the arena and keep it to a walk until I get there.” After the incident the day before, she wasn’t taking any chances.
But Andrew’s grooming speed would have lost him a snail race.
“Come on, we’re late.”
“I don’t want to.” Andrew looked up at her, his brown eyes dressed in fear.
“Once you are mounted, it’ll be okay.” DJ adjusted the saddle girth.
“No”
DJ stopped and stared at him. Now what? She took in a deep breath. “Okay, tell you what we’ll do. You stay here with Bandit, and I’ll come get you after the girls’ lesson. You and I will work together, just us again, okay?”
Andrew stared down at his hands.
“Andrew?”
“Okay.”
Even Krissie of the never-ending giggles paid close attention to everything DJ said through the next hour. While DJ missed the banter, she kept a close eye on the girls, the other horse and rider in the arena, and the surrounding area.
“Let’s review a bit here,” she said, calling them into the center. “What do you do if your horse spooks?”
“Hang on tight!” Krissie clamped her hands around her saddle horn.
“Pull back on the reins and tell your horse
to stop,” Angie added.
“Keep your legs firm, your rear deep in the saddle, and …”
“Don’t panic,” the three chanted together.
“How can you get your horse to stop running?”
“Pull on the inside rein so he has to go in a tight circle,” Sam answered.
“Good. And what’s most important?”
“Don’t panic!” all three said with wide grins.
“And something else: When your horse has spooked at something, make sure you take him up to it again—lead him if you need to, but show him there is nothing to be afraid of. The sooner you do that, the easier it will be.”
“Like getting right back on if you fall off?”
“Exactly.” DJ smiled up at them. “You guys are so smart. Now, I’ve got a new drill for you. Line up down there on the edge of the arena. Then one at a time, I want you to run your horse down to me and pull him to a sliding stop.”
“Hey! Way to go!”
One by one, they did so, going from a slow stop to sliding after several run-throughs.
“Good. How did that feel?”
“Fun!”
“More fun when you do it right.” Sam rubbed her inner leg where she’d clobbered it against the pommel.
Angie’s eyes sparkled. “And the dust didn’t even bother me.”
“Good. Go ahead and circle the arena at a walk, then head for the barn.”
DJ watched them, then held the gate for them to file through. She left them with their mothers and headed to Bandit’s stall. She still had to exercise Bunny’s horse, too. Maybe she should call and leave a message for her mother that she would be late.
“Andrew?”
Bandit looked up from munching the hay in his manger. His bridle and saddle hung on the stall door. But no Andrew.
Chapter • 17
“Have you seen Andrew?” DJ asked.
Tony stopped, his horse beside him. “Nope, why?”
“He was supposed to stay with Bandit until I got back. He refused to come to the group class.”
“Maybe he went to the bathroom.”
“He took the bridle and saddle off Bandit.”
“Uh-oh.” Tony mounted his horse. “I’ll look around outside. Maybe he’s waiting for his dad.”
DJ asked everyone. Each took off in a different direction, looking, but no one had noticed the boy leaving.
“Where could he go?” DJ asked Bridget back in the office.
“I called his house, but no one answered. I will try again in a minute.”
“Maybe someone kidnapped him.” Krissie skidded to a stop beside DJ. “We looked everywhere in the barn. Sometimes we hide in the hay bales, but he’s not there, either.”
“Feed room?” DJ asked.
“Nope, Hilary looked there. We’ve all looked everywhere.”
“Did anyone check the cars and trailers?” Bridget asked.
Amy nodded but grabbed Krissie, calling over her shoulder. “We’ll really check them out this time.”
“I should have paid more attention to him,” DJ moaned. “I told him to wait so I could do a private lesson with him.”
“DJ, I do not want to hear ‘shoud have’ from you again.” Bridget grasped DJ’s upper arms. “Do you hear me?”
DJ nodded. “But—”
“But nothing. If we do not find him in ten minutes, I will call 9-1-1.”
But he was—is—my responsibility. I’m his teacher. His parents trust me to look after him while he’s here.
Cries of “Andrew!” echoed from every corner of the academy property, even up by Bridget’s house, where no one was allowed to go except with a special invitation.
Could he be hurt somewhere and notable to answer? Is he playing a joke? Where could one small eight-year-old boy go? Or worse, be taken?
The thoughts rampaged through DJ’s mind, the last one sending chills up and down her spine—and settling a boulder in her middle. “God, please bring Andrew back. Keep watch over him. Please, God, please.” But God hadn’t been listening to her prayers lately.
Where did that leave Andrew?
All those at the Academy gathered in the office, shaking their heads and showing empty hands.
“You have looked everywhere?”
They all nodded in reply to Bridget’s question.
“In the feed bins?”
“I checked twice,” Tony said.
Bridget picked up the phone and dialed the three numbers. “Hello, this is Bridget Sommersby at Briones Riding Academy. I need to report a lost child.”
DJ fought the tears gathering at the back of her eyes. Yesterday, Patches spooked and Mrs. Johnson broke her arm. Today, the Johnsons’ child was missing. And DJ had been in charge both times. Would the police blame her?
A pin dropping would have sounded like a bowling ball in the room. Someone sniffed.
DJ felt frozen, like she’d been caught playing statue. Only her mind was in motion like a huge flock of blackbirds, all flapping in different directions.
A car drove up and a car door slammed. All eyes turned toward the door. Andrew and his father walked in.
“I found him halfway home. Walking. I hope this hasn’t been a problem for you.” Mr. Johnson looked around the frozen group.
“Thank you,” Bridget told the 9-1-1 dispatcher. “The child and his father just showed up.” She put down the phone.
“Uh-oh. I would have called, but my car phone was dead.” Mr. Johnson laid a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “I think you owe these people an apology.”
“I … I’m sorry.” New tears joined the tracks already washed on his dusty cheeks.
“I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what got into him.” Mr. Johnson shook his head. “I thought he was beginning to like riding.”
Andrew turned and buried his face in his father’s side. Sobs shook his skinny shoulders.
“Aw, that’s okay.”
“We’re just glad you are all right.” The Academy kids gathered around Andrew.
“Time to get back to work and riding,” Bridget announced. “Thank you for all your help and caring.”
“Yes, thank you all,” Mr. Johnson said, turning to look at everyone. “You’re a great bunch of people out here. I’m looking forward to riding myself.”
The kids left, many of them giving Andrew a pat on the shoulder as they went by.
DJ crossed the room and knelt in front of the boy. “What is it, Andrew? You’ve been doing so well.”
“H-horses hurt p-people.”
Mr. Johnson rolled his eyes. “Andrew, accidents happen. I keep telling you.”
DJ thought fast. “Did Bandit hurt you?”
Andrew shook his head.
“Did Patches?”
Another headshake.
“But falling off Patches gave your mother a broken arm?”
Andrew nodded. A huge hiccup shook the boy’s body.
“He can’t go through life being so scared of everything. That’s why we bring him here.”
DJ looked up at Mr. Johnson. “He’s gotten lots better in the last couple of months. Haven’t you, Andrew?”
Andrew let go of this father’s jacket and scrubbed his eyes with his fists. He took a deep breath, and when he let it out, his shoulders slumped. “My mother can’t ride anymore.”
DJ looked at him, trying to figure out where he got that idea. “Only for a while, until her arm heals. Broken bones get better.”
“She said Patches is trying to kill her.”
“Ah.” DJ nodded and looked up at Mr. Johnson.
“Andrew, your mother was joking. She knows Patches didn’t do that on purpose. A cat scared him.”
“Andrew, what would you do if someone suddenly jumped out and shouted ‘boo’ at you?”
Andrew looked DJ full in the face. A tear beaded one dark eyelash. “I … I’d jump.”
“And?” DJ felt like Gran, who had always asked her questions like this.
“Uh … ahh …”
<
br /> She waited. Again the room was silent, but this time there were voices coming from outside as the rest of the Academy went about a normal Wednesday afternoon.
“I’d scream.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“I … I’d run to my mother.”
“Or to your bedroom,” Mr. Johnson added.
Andrew looked up at him and nodded.
“Okay. The cat scared Patches, right?”
Andrew nodded.
“And Patches wanted to run to his room. Horses always go to their stalls when they are afraid. That’s where they feel safe. But something was in his way. What was it?”
“The fence?”
“You got it. Would Patches run into the fence?”
“He could jump over.”
“That big fence?”
“Guess not.” Andrew shook his head.
“But when he turned fast, your mother didn’t turn, too. She fell off.”
“And broke her arm.” Andrew rubbed his own arm, as if it hurt in sympathy.
“True. But it was an accident.” And riding Patches for her is an accident looking for a chance to happen.
“Bandit could run away, too.”
DJ sighed. This kid knew how to reason. “He could.” Thoughts careened around her mind till one stopped for her to catch it. “But Bandit is older and smarter, like your dad here. He doesn’t get frightened as easily because he’s seen that cat run lots of times. Just like your dad wouldn’t jump so easily as you if someone shouted ‘boo.’ ”
Andrew looked up to his father. Mr. Johnson nodded. “DJ is right. I’ll come with you so you can ride Bandit now.”
Andrew sighed. The kind of sigh that came clear from the soles of his feet. “ ’Kay.” He took his father’s hand. “Will you lead him?”
Mr. Johnson looked at DJ, who nodded back. “I’ll get the lunge line for you.”
By the time DJ exercised Bunny’s horse, Amy had already gone home because she and her mother were going shopping. Joe had left because he and Gran were going into the city to shop.
DJ mounted her bike. The ride home looked to be about a hundred miles—all up hill.
“Your dinner is in the microwave.” Lindy turned from helping Bobby and Billy with printing their letters at the dining room table. Her eyes wore that frosty look DJ was coming to recognize—along with the lines in her forehead. Lindy was not pleased with her daughter—again.
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