“Looks that way to me.” Robert nodded and smiled at both Lindy and DJ. “Be a real success story for that book you’ve been thinking about.”
“The one on kids and businesses?” DJ looked at her mother. “You still thinking about that?”
Lindy nodded. “It’s been bugging me lately. And now this …”
“Gran would say God is talking loud and clear.”
“I know, she told me that already.” Lindy wiped her mouth with her napkin. “If no one wants any more of the scalloped potatoes, we have dessert.”
“Then can we go see Queenie?” the twin who didn’t have a wet front asked.
“Not until tomorrow. The Humane Society is closed now.”
“But what if someone else likes her?”
“They said they’d keep her for us to decide first.”
DJ let out a sigh of relief. She already thought of Queenie as theirs, and she hadn’t even seen her yet.
When she called Sean, he wasn’t home. So they would have to play phone tag.
But Amy was home, and she let out a shriek that nearly broke DJ’s eardrum. She held the phone away from her ear and made a face at it. “You done now?”
“You won’t believe this, but I just took three whole rolls of film of some pinto babies Mom and I saw. They were so cute, and if these turn out … Is God awesome or what?”
Queenie took one look at DJ and glued herself to her leg. She licked one boy’s face, then the other and Robert’s hand, sending a tail wag and friendly glance at Lindy.
“This is one smart dog.” DJ leaned down and rubbed the black ears. She had a white diamond on her chest and one white back foot. One ear stood up, giving the medium-sized dog a quizzical expression. Her tail never quit wagging.
“Looks to me like she adopted you, not the other way around,” the woman at the Humane Society said with a smile. She looked at the twins. “Now, you boys make sure that she gets lots of exercise …”
“That won’t be hard,” DJ said in an aside to Robert.
“ … and that she gets fed morning and night.”
“And lots of water, huh?” one of the Bs said with the other nodding, their faces serious for a change.
“That’s right. It takes big boys to care for a dog.”
“Uh-huh.” They nodded. “We’re big.”
“Looks like we better run by the pet store.” Robert held the door for them to leave. DJ held the leash Queenie’s first family had sent with their dog. The collar said “Queenie” on a brass plate. Queenie walked beside DJ as though they’d been doing this for years. She jumped into the back of the Bronco, her head over the backseat, panting in the twins’ ears.
“We’ll drop you off at the Academy, okay?” Looking in the rearview mirror, Robert caught DJ’s gaze.
“Sure, thanks.” She kept one hand on the dog.
“Now, I want to make this clear: Queenie will be sleeping in the garage,” Lindy said firmly. “We’ll get her a bed and …”
Groans from all three in the backseat.
“Now, kids, we have to get to know her, and she must get to know us. We need to make sure she remembers that she is housebroken.”
“So she won’t pee on the rug?”
“Yucky.”
“Boys.”
The twins looked at each other and giggled.
“You guys don’t need a pet. You’ve got each other.” DJ ruffled their hair. “Take care of Queenie, now.” She looked at Robert and shook her head. “We have to give her a better name than that.” And with that she stepped from the car and headed for the barn.
As she reached the door, Patches’ new owner was leading him out of the barn. “You got here just in time to say good-bye.” She stopped and let DJ pet him.
“You behave yourself, now, you hear?” DJ dug in her pocket. Nothing. “Just a minute.”
She dashed into the tack room and grabbed a carrot out of the sack she kept there. Breaking it in pieces, she palmed one for him and rubbed his ears. “I better not get any bad reports.” Patches nosed for a second treat and she gave him one. “Horse cookies are his favorite, carrots a bad second. But I think he’ll eat about anything. I pulled a candy wrapper out of his mouth one day.”
“Thank you for training him. Bridget said again what a good job you’ve done. Has he ever been ridden English?”
DJ shook her head. “Not that he wouldn’t look good under it. He’s stylish enough to show that way.”
“I’m thinking about it. Thanks again.” She led Patches off to the trailer at the end of the parking lot.
When DJ heard a sniff behind her, she turned to find Mrs. Johnson wiping her eyes.
“We are such suckers about our horses, I know.” She blew her nose. “If this other horse turns out, I’ll be riding again next week. I can’t wait.” She tucked her tissue into her pocket. “DJ, I have a favor to ask. Would you be willing to ride this new horse for me a couple of times and see how she goes, then teach me?”
“Sure, ah …” DJ paused. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“I know. Just a couple days?”
“Did you check with Bridget?”
“Uh-huh. She said to ask you.”
“Tell you what—I’ll ride her one time and then we’ll go from there.”
“Okay. That might be enough.” Mrs. Johnson started to walk away, then stopped. “And, DJ, thanks for the drawing you did of Patches. It makes me smile every time I look at it. You caught his spirit and personality so perfectly.”
“Patches is quite a character.”
“I thought you weren’t going to take on anything else?” Amy looked after the departing woman.
“I’m not.”
“You did.”
“I know. What could I say?”
“ ‘No, thank you. I don’t have time.’ ” Amy grinned, her braces sporting bright red and blue bands. “ ‘Oh, I have to ask my mommy.’ ”
“F-u-n-n-y!”
Bridget drilled DJ on her upcoming classes just as she’d done for the girls. Walk, trot, canter, reverse.
DJ figured she’d be hearing the commands in her sleep. Thursday they reviewed the jumping and hunter classes.
“You have to remember to relax,” Bridget reminded DJ. “When you get uptight, you transfer that tension to Major. You have to put the audience and judges right out of your mind. Concentrate. Concentrate. Focus. Focus. And relax. Breathe.”
“And count. I forget to count.”
“You are learning. But for now, concentrate on a clean round. We will worry about speed later.”
DJ patted Major’s neck. “We’ll do our best, huh, big fella?”
Friday was clean tack and wash horses day at the Academy. Water fights at the wash racks, soap rag rubbings in the aisles. A visitor would have thought it was one big party with all the laughter and teasing going on.
Butterflies didn’t have time to play that way.
Saturday morning when they got to Bottomly, the host ranch on Bear Valley Road, one of the young riders threw up strictly from nerves. Trucks, trailers, and motor homes lined the fences and parking area, including that of a neighboring farm. Since the show would start at nine, horses were already warming up in the arenas before seven.
DJ caught a yawn with her hand and stretched, feeling both tight and tired. Since space was at a premium, horses were tied to the trailers they came in or left inside them. She made her way around the vehicles, checking on her girls. She left them grooming their horses, checked her list against that of the women handling registration, and headed back to Joe’s trailer to work with Major. They had English showing in the covered arena, Western in the one outside, and Jumping/Trail classes in the one nearest the road. Only by running three rings could they fit all the classes into one day. And still the show promised to run until dark.
The second class out, DJ waited to enter the ring. Since they were showing only Equitation, the butterflies zooming around in her middle surprised her. She took a deep breath and let it out, smil
ing when Major did the same. As the line began moving, she clucked Major into a trot and followed the other entries into the ring. Walk, trot around the ring, and follow the judge’s signals. Stand at attention. Major relaxed as the judge walked around him, and DJ groaned inside. She twitched her reins to keep him alert.
They didn’t come even close to a ribbon, although they weren’t last, either.
“Well, now we got our first one out of the way. The others should be easier.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Joe said as they walked back to the trailer. “Major is a good horse, but he’s just not as pretty as some of those others out there.”
“Like that black-and-white paint? Talk about showy.” DJ rubbed Major’s nose. “But like Gran always says, ‘Beauty is only skin deep and character is what counts.’ ”
“He’s enough of a character, that’s for sure.” Joe gave Major a carrot piece. “And not much we can do about the pretty part.”
“Here, would you take him?” DJ handed Joe the reins. “I’ll be right back.” She made sure the girls were getting their clothes on and hustled back to Major.
“You’re going to wear a track between here and there,” Joe said, giving Ranger an extra rub with a soft cloth. “Next time I’ll make sure we park side-by-side.” He looked DJ in the eye. “You had anything to eat yet?”
She shook her head. “No time.”
Joe pointed to the cab of the truck. “Gran made sure there was food for you. Eat. Now.”
DJ did as he said and could feel her butterflies settle down. They must have been hungry, too.
“Heads up! Horse loose!”
DJ looked up in time to see the black-and-white paint charge by, lead shank flapping in the breeze. So much for pretty. He probably didn’t have a brain to go along with the good looks. DJ stroked Major’s neck and leaned against him. “You have more common sense in one ear than that horse does in his entire body.” Major nodded in agreement.
In Hunter Seat she was excused early. They gave six ribbons, and the class had numbered about twenty. The man on the paint placed sixth. That irked DJ more than anything else, other than her own early exit.
“So what did we do wrong?” she asked Bridget.
“You did not do anything wrong. The others just did things better.” Bridget looked up from her clipboard to the novice English Equitation class entering the ring. “You were up against some tough competition in that class. You watch. It will be different in the Amateur Open over Fences.”
All three of her girls got ribbons, much to their delight, and Angie even placed in Trail-Riding. Krissie’s horse took one look at the bridge and backed clear across the arena. However, when it was time to back up on command, he refused.
Amy took second in Western Equitation and first in Trail. “I think I’m going to start working with poles and barrels,” she said as she and DJ sat watching Joe, who was waiting for his turn in the senior Western Pleasure class.
“Good idea. Josh will be good at that. He’s quick on his feet and smart as all get-out.”
Up behind them in the bleachers, the entire family had gathered to root for DJ and Joe.
“When’s Grandpa’s turn?”
“Pretty soon,” Lindy answered.
But in spite of their cheering, Ranger missed a couple of signals and didn’t place.
“No ribbon?” Bobby and Billy both looked ready to go out in the ring and take on the judge.
“Maybe next time. This was Grandpa’s first time competing. He did pretty good.”
“No ribbon.” The plaintive sound of the boys’ voices made DJ grin and Amy giggle.
They knew just how Joe was feeling right then. Crummy.
“I think they should give him a ribbon just for trying, an old man like that.”
“Robert John Crowder, what a thing to say about your father.” Lindy smacked him on the arm. “I’m going to tell him you said that, too.”
Robert used his program to tap DJ on the head. “One more class and it’s your turn.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Come on, Ames, you can help us get ready.”
“Thanks a whole lot.” The two levered themselves off the bleachers and headed back to the trailer.
DJ’s butterflies took the opportunity to go wild.
Chapter • 12
“Good luck,” Tony Andrada said, touching his whip to his helmet.
“You too.” DJ sent him a smile that was supposed to be encouraging. Instead, it felt like it cracked her face. You know better than to let this get to you. Come on, relax and go with the flow.
“Easy for you to say.” While she mumbled mostly to herself, Joe turned to look at her.
“What’s up?” He grinned and shook his head. “Not what’s up, but what’s down, huh?”
DJ nodded. “I want to do good so b-a-d.”
“All anyone can ask is that you do your best.”
“Yeah, and you can’t do your best when you’re tighter than a drum. I better walk him around.”
“He’s not the one that’s uptight.” Joe tapped her knee as she turned Major away. Once more around the warm-up ring might help.
Father in heaven, all I ask is that you help me do my best. She wanted to say “and win,” but she decided not to. Tony trotted beside her.
“You okay?”
“I will be.”
“Yeah, me too. The waiting is a killer.” He paused to listen to the number of the contestant entering the ring. “I’m next.”
DJ rode beside him back to the gate. She wanted to watch him and cheer him on. That’s what the Academy kids did for one another.
She heard a sharp crack and knew a rail had gone down. A brief spatter of applause and the gatekeeper swung the gate open to let the other rider out.
DJ could see Tony take a deep breath and let his shoulders relax. She caught herself doing the same thing. He nudged his horse forward and trotted into the ring.
“He is one cool-looking dude,” a young girl off to the side said to another.
DJ glanced at her grandfather and, by the grin on his face, knew he had heard, too.
Tony took the first fence with what looked like three feet to spare, but by the second he had settled down to business.
DJ could feel herself counting with him. She leaned forward at the same time he did.
Major shifted and pricked his ears. Tension hummed through his body. He was as ready as she.
Tony and his horse jumped a clean round. The third one of the class.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” Tony called as he rode by. “And have fun.”
DJ smiled up at her family and squeezed her legs. “This is it, big boy. Let’s go.”
Major took the first jump with room to spare, as if he were saying, “Let’s get me something to jump.” He kept his ears forward and snorted when they landed after the oxer. The stone wall made him twitch his tail as he looked forward to the triple.
Each time he lifted off, DJ felt as though they were flying, sailing free like the birds in the air. Major landed so perfectly, always looking to the next jump, always responding to her signals. Together they jumped clean and received a round of hearty applause. Of course, it helped that half the grandstand was either related to her or rode for Briones.
She wanted to hug the entire world and half the universe. “We did it! Joe, we did it. A clean round. I can’t tell you how much fun that was.”
“I think you just did. And the light in this old boy’s eyes says the same thing. You are two of a kind. Adrenaline junkies, for sure.”
Major rubbed his forehead against Joe’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over.
“All right, so you’re not junkies.”
The next rider ticked and the bar wobbled enough that it finally fell. The audience groaned.
By the end of the twelve jumpers, four had jumped a perfect round. DJ was the youngest.
She, Tony, and others waited while the ring officials raised the jumps. Major snorted as she walked him in a circle t
o keep him loosened up.
“I know, you’re just a-rarin’ to go back out there.” She patted his neck and swapped proud looks with Joe.
One of the other girls jumped first and knocked a rail down. The second jumped a clean round. Tony did the same.
And so did DJ.
The crowd went wild. DJ could hear the twins screaming her name. Was that her mother’s voice she heard, too? She didn’t dare look.
Bridget leaned on the wooden fencing off to the side of the practice ring. “You have done well, ma petite. Just continue as you are, relaxed and having a good time. Major is just eating this up.”
The girl ticked one and sent another rail rocking to the ground. The crowd sighed with her and gave her a rousing hand as she cantered out of the arena.
Tony jumped clean.
Father, help me. The center rail on the triple was higher than she had ever jumped.
“Okay, kid, here’s where they separate the men from the boys, er, the …” Joe shrugged and grinned up at her. “You just do your best, Darla Jean Randall.”
DJ trotted into the ring.
The jumps looked six feet high. How could a few inches make such a difference?
She signaled Major into a canter and headed for the first jump, a post and rail. When they cleared it, she swallowed and aimed Major for the next. Ears forward, he lifted into the air at just the right time and cleared the jump as though he was out to play.
The wall, the oxer. DJ leaned into them, lifting him over with her hands and legs. The final jump loomed before them. “Easy now.” They left the ground—and at that instant she knew.
His hind foot ticked the bar.
They had won second place.
“I’m sorry, fella. That was my fault.” She patted his neck and bit back the crud in her throat. Crying was for losers and sissies, and they were neither. She smiled for the judge and the camera, congratulated Tony, and rode out of the ring.
“I got left behind,” she whispered to Joe. “It was my fault, not that he couldn’t clear that thing.”
“Sorry, DJ, but second place and going three rounds is nothing to sneeze at.” Joe smoothed Major’s neck and whispered in his ear, “I am so proud of you, old man, that I could pop.”
High Hurdles Collection Two Page 24