High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

“I know, but seeing you at the show and having you at our house are two entirely different ball games. At least it looks like John got you and Herndon straightened out.”

  “I hope so. The show will tell.”

  Even before they unloaded the horse, DJ ran around the barn and up to Major’s stall. Her whistle halfway there brought an answering whinny. He had his forehead against the bars, waiting for her when she trotted up. He snuffled her hair and her face and licked her hand. “I missed you, too, you big hunk of horsemeat. How you feeling, anyway?”

  Ranger came to the corner of his pen and nickered for his share of attention.

  “I’ll be back. Just wait.” DJ gave Major a last pat and ran back to unload Herndon and put him in his stall.

  “Welcome back, you two,” Bunny called. “Was awful quiet around here with you gone.”

  “Anything exciting happen?” Amy lifted DJ’s saddle and bridle from the tack closet in the front of the trailer.

  “Nope, not really. More kids riding since school is out. Bridget asked if I’d teach a beginner’s jumping class, so that is new. For me, anyway.”

  “Good for you.” Amy followed DJ and the horse into the barn.

  DJ dumped Herndon’s grain in the bucket and refilled his water. The hay manger was half full, so she left that. After petting him and checking to make sure the blanket was securely fashioned, they left him and headed up to Major’s stall.

  “See, he’s putting weight on that foot.”

  Brad entered the stall and palpitated Major’s shoulder, then ran his hands down the stoic horse’s leg. “I don’t feel any more swelling. Maybe you’ll be able to turn him out to pasture soon.”

  “Robert said the pasture is all fenced now. He wants to run a water line out there so the horses always have water.”

  “Horses. You can’t call General a horse.” Amy rubbed Major’s neck, too.

  “Sure we can.” DJ let Major scratch his forehead against her shoulder, then scrubbed the place for him with her fingernails.

  “I better get going,” Brad said. “Amy, you want a ride home or go to DJ’s?”

  “I need to get home before Mom starts to worry.”

  A few minutes later they pulled up in front of Amy’s house. “Thanks for the ride and the great time this week,” she said.

  “Anytime. You ask your folks now if showing Western for me would be all right.”

  “I will.” Amy piled her things beside the truck. “Thanks again.”

  “You know, you have one mighty good friend there.” Brad pulled away from the curb.

  “I know. I’m really lucky.”

  “Takes a good friend to have a good friend.”

  When DJ got home, Maria handed her several messages. DJ glanced down the paper and shook her head. “What happened?” The messages were all from card shops except for the one from Sean.

  “Article come out in paper. You big success.” Maria opened the drawer under the phone and handed DJ a newspaper article. “See.”

  DJ groaned at the picture of her and Amy and samples of their cards. They really looked like two kids playing grown-up. But the cards showed well. “Where’s Mom?”

  “All at Joe’s. Back in time for dinner. You call there.”

  DJ did as ordered and heard the same information. She hung up and headed upstairs. She’d return the call to Sean before the others got home. But after leaving a message with his answering machine, DJ shook her head. More telephone tag. Between the two of them, talking on the phone almost took a miracle.

  DJ started summer art school on Monday, but this time Gran took her.

  “I want to see the art department and maybe meet your instructor,” she said by way of excuse.

  “You just want to sniff the paints and get your fingers in the clay,” DJ said with a smile, but her butterflies were taking practice spins.

  They parked in the north parking lot and followed the signs to the art department. “Mr. Charles said he didn’t mind if I sat through the orientation. Makes me wish I could join you. I haven’t played with clay for years.”

  “Why don’t you?” DJ paused in the act of opening the door.

  Gran stopped and looked at DJ. A smile started in one corner and soon widened her whole mouth, lighting up her eyes and even setting her silver hair to sparkling. “Why, darlin’, why ever not?”

  She left DJ seated for the lecture and came back half an hour later, admission slip in hand.

  “Here.” DJ handed her a supplies list.

  Two hours later as they headed home, they were both digging clay out from under their fingernails and laughing about the trials of bringing up a form on the pottery wheel.

  “I want to make some slab pieces, too. That kiln is huge.” DJ dug at a piece of clay stuck to her jean shorts. “I wonder if I can make a horse statue by the end of the class?”

  “I don’t know why not. Or etch one on a piece of slab. Think how wonderful that could be. A horse etched in terra-cotta, or a bas-relief like that woman’s face he showed us.”

  “Or I could carve it in more, you know, build up the rump and shoulder …” DJ’s fingers sketched the form in the air. She leaned back against the car seat. “And to think I get to do this every morning for six whole weeks.”

  “We get to, darlin’, we get to.”

  Herndon behaved like an angel for the rest of the week so that DJ was actually looking forward to the show on the weekend. By the time she’d bathed him and braided his mane on Friday afternoon, he looked good enough to draw oohs and ahhs from the younger kids that idolized DJ.

  But on Saturday DJ’s butterflies awoke after a brief nap and went into full flutter as she trotted Herndon around the practice ring along with Tony and the other competing junior riders.

  “You okay?” he asked. “Seems so strange to not see Major here.”

  “I know, but this guy has been on his best behavior today.”

  “Tell me about it. Two second-place ribbons and a third. And there’s been hot competition here, too.”

  “I know.” DJ swallowed hard. She and Herndon were the first ones into the ring for the jumping class.

  “And now for the event you’ve been waiting for, junior jumpers, class number 43A on your programs. We have a good group of youngsters here today. We’ll begin with number 16, owner and rider Darla Jean Randall on Herndon.”

  DJ smiled at Joe, who mouthed “Darla Jean” and made her smile. She swallowed, the gate swung open, and they cantered a circle and toward the first jump.

  Over three and doing fine. DJ kept her gaze on the base of the brush jump in front of them. Three, two, one, and …

  Herndon ran out.

  Wanting to beat him, she brought him around again and headed for the jump. He ran out again. If only we could fly over the stands and home without seeing or speaking to anyone.

  “All right, horse, behave yourself.” Herndon took the jump. DJ gave a sigh of relief only to gather herself for the next one.

  Herndon balked at the chicken coop.

  DJ heard the announcer commiserating as she trotted her horse out of the arena. They were disqualified.

  Chapter • 15

  “I think I might have to shoot him. Or myself.”

  “Darla Jean Randall, what a thing to say.” Brad laid a hand on her knee and squeezed.

  “I second that.” Joe stood on her other side.

  DJ didn’t dare touch her cheeks for fear she would burn her finger tips. “At least he didn’t dump me.”

  “True, that’s one good thing to be thankful for.”

  “I was so scared of him doing it that he probably read my mind.” She could remember telling Amy she’d die of embarrassment if a horse ever did this to her. Ha, so she didn’t die. She was still alive even though she wanted to burrow under the dirt and under the fence to someplace beyond the grounds before she came up for air.

  Brad and Joe both looked up at her like she’d done something amazing. “I think you just hit the nail on the hea
d, my girl. Did you tell John about that?”

  “Tell him what? That horse can’t read my mind.”

  “But he can read your body signals. Did you tell Bridget?”

  DJ looked down at her grandfather. “You think I’d tell Bridget something like that?” Her voice squeaked on the final word.

  Jackie stood on the other side of Brad. “DJ, you and I need to have a serious discussion.”

  Herndon snorted and shifted. She felt like clobbering him. Jumping Major was so much easier.

  “Well, let’s get out of here.” She knew she should wait and see Tony’s round, but right now all she wanted to do was go home.

  With Herndon loaded in the trailer, Jackie laid a hand on DJ’s arm. “About that discussion?”

  DJ made a face. “I know. You’re going to say I should have told you or John or Bridget that, but I think I just figured it out for myself. How can I tell someone else when I don’t know it?”

  “Good point.” Jackie gave her a hug. “But we want to make sure you know you can tell us anything. Anything, DJ, and we will do our best to help.”

  “I know.” DJ scratched her ear. “Sometimes I think I am totally confused.”

  “Join the club. DJ, you’ve got to understand and remember: No matter what our emotion is—and fear is a strong one—our body communicates that with really subtle signals. Animals and some people are good at reading this.”

  “Well, if I’d understood it, I would have said something.”

  Oh really? her inner voice said with a devious chuckle.

  “Mom, I think I need to go see Gran,” DJ said after the family had returned from church the next morning.

  “Sure. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Maybe, but …” DJ scrunched her mouth from one side to the other. “S’pose I better call and see if she’s home, huh?” But Gran’s phone rang until the answering machine picked up. DJ set the receiver back in the cradle. She didn’t want to talk to an answering machine.

  She couldn’t settle in to finish another sketch of Stormy, either. And Amy had gone somewhere with her family. Maybe Joe and Gran were working outside and just didn’t hear the phone.

  “I’m going for a bike ride,” she called. When no one answered, she stopped at the door to the garage. The house was amazingly quiet. From the deck she could hear the boys out at the barn with Robert. She took the stairs, but instead of going to her room, crossed to her parents’ wing. She peeked in the door to see her mother sound asleep. Getting her bike out, she wheeled it out to the barn and told Robert she was taking a ride.

  “Can we come?” The boys wriggled all over just like the dog between them.

  DJ started to say no, but the pleading looks on their round faces did her in. “All right, but get your helmets.”

  “Where are you going?” Robert leaned on the shovel handle.

  “To see if Joe and Gran are working outside. I called, but there was no answer.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Not if you don’t include the fact that Herndon and I can’t make it around the jumping arena without him running out on me. “No.” She paused. “Yes, but I’m not sure what it is. I thought maybe Gran could help me sort it out.”

  “She and Joe are both good at that. If they’re not home, why not come by and get me and I’ll ride with you. Maybe we could go up to the Briones parking lot and up the trail.”

  “Okay.” DJ took her helmet from the bars of her bike and set it on her head. With the chin strap latched, she rode back to where the helmeted boys were wheeling their bikes out of the garage. This would be a good chance to start them on riding lessons. She sent the thought flying. She had a feeling patience wouldn’t be her strongest trait right then.

  No Explorer in the driveway, no one answering their knock, no one working in the yard. The boys groaned, and DJ felt like groaning, too. But the ride up into the park cleared her head, and the antics of the twins made her laugh again.

  The next day after school and lunch, DJ and Gran meandered out to the rose garden on the west side of Gran’s house. Together they sank to their knees, pulling weeds with gloved hands and snipping off the dead blossoms.

  “So what seems to be the problem?” Gran took a sniff of a creamy Peace rose and closed her eyes in delight. “Smell this.”

  DJ did and smiled back at her grandmother.

  “Good, huh?”

  DJ sighed and nodded. “I wish I knew what the problem was with my jumping Herndon.” She dug out a dandelion and tossed it into the weed bucket. “I think I’m doing everything right, and still we get in trouble. Saturday I kind of said something offhand about being afraid.” She glanced at her hand. “No, not about the fire thing, but about Herndon running out in public and embarrassing me to death. Do you think he could be picking up on that?”

  Gran sat back on her knees. “Could be. Animals are terribly prescient.” At DJ’s questioning look, Gran smiled. “They can intuitively sense what we are feeling. Could be a smell, or small actions we aren’t aware of, even facial expressions. Even though Herndon hasn’t been with you very long, he could sense a quiver of fear.”

  “Hmm.” DJ crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees.

  “Why would his running out embarrass you so? I’ve seen it happen to lots of riders. They keep coming back, and they don’t look like they are wearing a tattoo that spells idiot or some such.”

  “Just a permanent red face.”

  “Call it sunburn.”

  “I just don’t trust him.”

  “Nor he you, it seems.”

  DJ nodded and picked a blade of grass. She nibbled the tender end of it while she thought. “Do you think any or all of my fears are connected somehow?”

  “Another good question. I’ve been praying for God to help you deal with your fears, and recognizing them is always the first step. Maybe what’s happening is you’re beginning to recognize them.”

  DJ looked over at her grandmother. “I … I get so aggravated. With myself—why can’t I get this? And with Herndon—why can’t he behave like Major?” She shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”

  “Remember, darlin’, we prayed for wisdom for you, and I believe it is coming. You are doing some deep thinking and feeling and seeking. God honors our seeking hearts. And He loves you far more than you or I will ever understand. All we can do is live in His love and thank Him for it.”

  “I do—thank Him, I mean. Oh, not all the time, but more often than I used to. It’s just this fear thing. He says not to be afraid.”

  Gran nodded. “He also says ‘I love you’ with an unending love and that we can take shelter in Him.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

  “By taking time to sit and talk with Him. Picture yourself sitting at Jesus’ knee, like you do mine.” Gran smiled. “I tell myself that I am living in the shelter of God himself, and I keep saying it until I believe it.”

  “Cool, huh?” DJ rocked back, her hands clasped around her knees.

  “Way, way cool.” She watched an orange-and-black butterfly flit from one rose blossom to another. She could hear bees buzzing about their business. Such perfect peace.

  DJ tossed the blade of grass away as her feet hit the ground again. “It’s silly to be afraid of being embarrassed because your horse might run out. If I’m going to be an Olympic rider, it will probably happen hundreds of times over the years.”

  “There, you’ve said it. No one ever died of embarrassment, at least not that I know of. Nor aggravation, either.”

  DJ grinned and tossed a blade of grass at her grandmother. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, let’s see if we can make a dent in the weeds here before you have to head for the Academy.”

  By the first of July Major had no trace of a limp. DJ called the vet in Palo Alto and told him the news.

  “That’s very good,” Dr. Jones said. “I never expected him to recover this fast, if at all. He could ver
y easily have limped for the rest of his life.”

  “Do you think I can ride him again?”

  “I don’t know why not, as long as you walk him first or put him on the hot walker for a while to see how he takes the exercise. I wouldn’t try jumping him again.”

  “No, I didn’t plan on that. But I know he misses the … the …” She wasn’t sure what, but Major sometimes looked as if he’d lost his last friend when he saw her with Herndon.

  “Have you let him out on pasture yet?”

  “Yes, and he even gets down to roll.”

  “That’s good news.”

  DJ hung up and ambled outside. Major stood with his head over the fence, watching the boys play with General. The boys, the dog, and the pony spent more time together than anyone. They had taught General to bow down, and the sight of dog and pony bowing to a boy trying his best not to giggle made everyone laugh.

  “He’s jealous.” DJ picked up her drawing pad and flipped the page from the drawing she’d been working on. “And he’s just too big for the boys.” Quickly she sketched in Major, trying for his dejected look. Then she flipped a page again and roughed in the four bowing to each other. Drawing people was much more difficult than drawing horses. Even dogs were easier. But at least she had the rough. She’d ask Gran to help with the boys. If she could make this work, it would look great in the card line.

  When she bathed Herndon on Friday to get ready for the show, she felt that niggle of fear turn her stomach queasy again. Had that really been the problem? Her fear infecting her horse? Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. She scraped him down and led him back to his stall, where she buckled his sheet in place and began braiding his mane.

  DJ and Herndon had had a whole week of willing jumping. In the jumping arena at Briones, he sailed over the jumps with room to spare, even the odd ones that Bridget and Joe concocted to make him run out. Which was why DJ hadn’t canceled their entry.

  She had trouble going to sleep that night, but after praying for everyone and everything she could think of, she didn’t check the time again. Until she woke up sweating, still hearing the horses screaming. A barn had been on fire again, and Major was trapped inside. Her face felt hot, like she’d been right next to the blaze, and her throat hurt like she’d been breathing smoke.