High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Oh, DJ, before you run off. The woman from Outlook House called, and they have the cards packaged and ready to be picked up. All ten boxes. And they shrink-wrapped the singles and the prints. Not sure how many more boxes that makes.”

  “Ten boxes. Did we really order that many?” DJ sank onto the other chair.

  “You’re going to need warehouse space pretty soon at the rate you’re going.” Gran sat back and sipped her licorice tea.

  “And someone to do the shipping.”

  “I can’t believe this.” DJ looked down at the drawing. This one could possibly be included in the next printing. She traced her finger around the edge of the tablet. Who would have dreamed that their little card idea would grow like this? Being able to draw again, no matter how slowly, made up in part for the weeks of rain and sloggy flatwork.

  “One month until the first show.” Tony Andrada stared at the March calendar on the wall. “Do you think you’ll be ready?” He turned to DJ, one eyebrow raised like a question mark.

  “I have to be.” But Bridget still had her schooling over low jumps, nothing like competition. “Bridget suggested I enter Hunter classes this first time.”

  “That’s good. You can call the first time in the ring again a schooling show.”

  “I guess.”

  “Trust her, she knows the best way.”

  “She sure does,” Hilary Jones joined in. “She has me scheduled for a show in Las Vegas next weekend and Phoenix two weeks after that. My dad is going to trailer my horse, and I’ll fly there so I don’t miss so much school. You think high school is hard, wait until you hit college.”

  DJ knew Brad was hoping she could help him show in Phoenix the end of April, but that was different from jumping Herndon. Her mother had reserved the final decision for DJ, depending on her energy level and how school was going. If not, well, there’d be another time.

  The first show rolled into reality faster than DJ dreamed it would. Herndon walked out of the trailer as if he owned the world and whinnied to let his subjects know he’d arrived.

  “Right in my ear.” DJ smacked his shoulder, more like a love pat. If only he could scare away the butterflies in her middle with his piercing whinny. They’d even taken to waking her up at night.

  Herndon turned to look at her, snuffled her hair, and resumed his aristocratic pose. But he walked beside her to his stall without pulling at the rope or dancing any of his mighty jigs. When they were warming up in the schooling arena, he watched the others but didn’t feel like a wire stretched to the point of snapping. He popped over the schooling jumps without pulling or rushing his fences, and his ears pricked—evidence that he was having a good time.

  So was DJ, except for the inner butterfly battle.

  DJ wore riding gloves now, her Jobst gloves in her bag for later. She’d been able to do without them for several hours a day lately, but it felt strange without them. They were somewhat tighter than leather riding gloves. She flexed her hands, one at a time, keeping the reins secure in the other. Please, God, let him behave. I don’t care if we get a single ribbon. I just want to do well and get over these awful butterflies. She’d awakened that morning feeling like she had to throw up. Not a good start for the day.

  Herndon danced sideways, reacting to DJ’s nervousness, until DJ tightened both legs and hands and trotted forward.

  They placed fifth in Junior Working Hunter Under Saddle, but DJ didn’t feel bad. She’d entered it on Bridget’s orders, and now they were over their first hurdle—entering a show-ring again.

  “To give you more experience,” Bridget had said firmly.

  Junior Hunter Seat Equitation Under Saddle earned them a red. Herndon had turned on the charm and caught everyone’s attention, including the judge.

  Junior Hunter Over Fences had three of them in close competition. When DJ was awarded the yellow—third place—Joe grumbled, “Politics, that’s what. That judge must have been having eye trouble.”

  “Joe Crowder.” Gran slapped his arm with her program. “Don’t you talk like that.”

  DJ chuckled at the guilty look on her grandfather’s face. “Gotcha, didn’t she?”

  DJ rode third in her next class. When her number was called, she leaned forward in the saddle, took a deep breath, let it all out, and signaled Herndon into a trot. Entering the ring, she circled, asked him for a canter, and then they headed for the first jump, a single post and rail. He cleared it like he did all the others, with room to spare. They went around twice, then out.

  “He was just playing out there.” DJ stroked his neck. “Didn’t even break a sweat.” But the feeling had been there, the feeling of flying. I can fly again. I know we could do the Jumper class.

  The crowd cheered, especially her own cheering section of family and the gang from Briones, as DJ trotted back out to accept the blue ribbon for first. Herndon acted as if it were all for him, and he graciously accepted the accolades.

  “He’s a big ham, that’s what.”

  “You did good, DJ. You were the best.” The boys leaned around their father, who had their hands tightly secured in his own.

  “Thanks, guys.” Since DJ was done showing, she put Herndon in his stall and came back to the arena to watch the jumping classes. When Tony Andrada entered the ring, he winked at her and then took first with only one jump-off

  “You gotta get back out there so I have someone to compete against. That was way too easy,” Tony said when they were packing up to leave. He leaned his elbow on his knee, with one foot up on the closed burgundy-painted chest that held their tack. Two girls walked past, giggling as they went.

  “Your fan club, Tony. Aren’t you impressed?”

  “Yeah, right. All I need right now.” He took a swig from his can of soda and stretched his neck from side to side. “So the next one is May first at Rancho de Equus. You’re going, right?”

  DJ felt her stomach hit her boot tops. Rancho de Equus—the scene of the fire.

  Chapter • 17

  “You don’t have to do it, darlin’,” Gran told DJ on the last Thursday in April—two days before the show at Rancho de Equus.

  “I know, Gran, but I think I need to. Just pray for me, please. I think my butterflies invited in a whole new flock. There’s a battle going on inside me.”

  “No doubt. But there will be other shows. You can wait.” DJ nodded. “But I am going.” She forced herself to sound more certain. “I am going. We leave tomorrow afternoon, as soon as everyone gets to the Academy. Joe said he would take me earlier to beat the traffic, but that’s not fair to the others. At least we’re not on the early program on Saturday morning.” DJ knew she was chattering, but if she kept talking her teeth didn’t clatter together.

  She might just as well have stayed home from school Friday for all her concentration on the lessons. Except in art class. She wouldn’t miss that for anything. But the metallic taste in her mouth made lunch taste so bad she quit eating.

  The drive south wasn’t as bad as they’d thought it might be. They hit San Jose at the end of the traffic and sailed right on to the horse park. Rancho de Equus in black metal letters arched over the entrance, bordered by tall stucco walls on each side. Bright red roses bloomed along the lower sections of the walls and around the fences.

  DJ took in a deep breath as they drove under the sign. This would be a good show this time. It had to be. The jitters in her fingers traveled up her arms.

  They checked all their horses in without any difficulty, this time assigned to an entirely different barn than she’d been in last fall. DJ looked over to where barn D had been. A brand-new white barn stood in the place of the one that had burned down.

  “Did you see that?” She nodded in the new barn’s direction when talking with Hilary.

  “Sure looks better than the old one. Did they ever find out what started the fire?”

  “Got me.” DJ shook her head and shuddered. “I’m glad it’s all rebuilt. Makes this easier somehow.”

  But slee
p that night in the motor home wasn’t easy. She woke twice with the nightmare. Once she must have screamed or something because Bunny came to check on her.

  “You all right, DJ?” She kept her voice low so she wouldn’t wake up the others.

  “I will be. Haven’t had these dreams for a long time.” DJ swung her feet to the floor. “Guess I’ll get a drink and go to the bathroom. Thanks for coming, but I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  Bunny pushed her hair behind her ear. “No matter, just so you’re all right. And no sneaking out, you hear?”

  “I won’t. If I hear anything, I’ll yell loud enough to wake all of you.”

  Bunny chuckled her way back to her own bed.

  DJ was cleaning out Herndon’s stall the next morning when one of the officials approached her. “Are you DJ Randall?”

  “Yes.” What did I do wrong now?

  “We wanted to make sure you and your horse are going to be part of the opening ceremonies. We’d like you to ride right behind the colors.”

  “Well, sure, but why—?”

  “Good, we’ll see you then.”

  “What was that all about?” Tony stopped his wheelbarrow next to her.

  “Got me. But that means I better hustle. I wasn’t planning on being dressed by then.”

  True to her word, DJ, Herndon, and her butterflies were ready to go when the announcer welcomed the crowd. She’d already seen her parents, including baby Amanda since Lindy was still nursing her, and the twins, Gran, Brad and Jackie, and Shawna and her family. The Crowders were out in full force. DJ waved back at the twins and took her place behind the color guard.

  “Glad to see you back here,” the ring superintendent said and reached up to shake her hand.

  “Thank you.” DJ remembered her manners, but what was the big deal?

  “Hey, DJ.”

  She turned to look and saw a familiar nurse with a certain fireman’s arm around her shoulders. “Karen, Allen, hi. How’d you know about this?”

  “We’ll tell you later.” They waved.

  The music started and the parade began. Three men in full Mexican regalia held the standards for the American flag, the California flag with the bear on it, and the Rancho flag. They trotted into the arena and DJ followed. Behind her came a riding team, and behind that many of the other entrants.

  The color guard circled and stopped to face the audience, who all stood at the beginning of the “Star Spangled Banner.” DJ watched the flag snapping in the breeze and listened to the song sung by a young boy with a mighty powerful voice. When he finished, she waited for the color guard to canter out, but they stayed in place. So she did, too. DJ looked to her left, and the rider there shrugged back.

  Herndon shifted from one foot to the other. “Easy, fella, this will be over soon.”

  “Welcome, folks, to the spring show at Rancho de Equus, the premier horse park of California. We have something special today, so make yourselves comfortable for a few minutes. Last August we had a near tragedy here that was averted by the quick thinking and incredible courage of a young woman. One of our barns caught on fire. When DJ Randall smelled the smoke, she threw the fire alarm and, without thought for her own safety, managed to save all the horses in that barn. She came terribly close to losing her life, but she is here with us today and riding Herndon, who was also in the fire.”

  I think I’m going to faint or cry or...

  “Would you please ride forward, Miss Randall?”

  DJ did as asked. The applause and cheering thundered around the arena.

  “Many of you might have noticed the new barn raised in place of the burned one. While we call it barn D, we have here a brass plaque that will be attached to the wall by the front door as you enter the barn. It says, ‘The DJ Randall Barn. Dedicated to DJ Randall for saving six horses from burning with no thought to her own safety. We thank her and name this barn in her honor.’ ”

  “We have a matching plaque for you, DJ, with our deepest thanks.”

  A woman walked toward DJ and handed her a thin box wrapped in gold paper. She shook DJ’s hand and said, “One of those horses you saved was mine. I can never thank you enough.”

  “Y-you’re welcome.”

  “You’ll find in that package a slight token of our esteem, DJ, and God bless you,” the announcer finished to a standing ovation.

  DJ let the tears flow. She had no choice.

  When the crowd sat down again, the color guard saluted her and rode smartly out of the arena. She fell in behind, the box clamped tightly to her side.

  Back in the schooling arena, she dismounted into the arms of her family, flashbulbs popping and several reporters asking her questions. She answered them and turned to her mom and dad. Tears had tracked down their faces, as well as the others’. Gran handed DJ a tissue, and Brad held on to Herndon’s reins while DJ blew her nose.

  “I never thought, I mean I …” DJ blew her nose again and held the box out to Gran. “Open the box, Gran.”

  “No, you need to.” GJ took out his pocketknife and slit the tape, then the paper on the box.

  In an envelope lay a check. DJ gasped and stared up at her mother. “It’s for a thousand dollars to be used for tuition for college or art school.”

  “Wow.” Shawna wore a look of total shock.

  DJ knew she must look like that, too. She folded the paper back from the plaque. Sure enough, it said the same as the announcer had read, along with the date of the fire.

  Horses were filing into the schooling arena.

  “We better move so they can warm up,” Brad said. “How about I take him back to the barn and you can talk with some of the people waiting to see you?”

  “Sure, thanks.” DJ looked up to realize he wasn’t just talking about her family.

  She didn’t get back to the barn until over an hour later, and now her hands were tender from being shaken by so many people, including a certain nurse and fireman. Karen had shown DJ her engagement ring and promised to see her after the day’s classes.

  By the end of the day, DJ and Herndon had won one third, a fifth out of a class of thirty, and a first in Junior Hunter. Junior Jumping would begin first thing on Sunday morning.

  Fifteen junior riders circled the schooling arena at 9:00 A.M. on Sunday. DJ had Herndon warmed up and ready; they would be jumping third, and Tony was number ten. DJ circled the ring again, all the while trying to ignore the show going on in her middle. Calm, stay calm. Please, God, keep me calm.

  The announcer called the first rider. She trotted through the entry gate to a smattering of applause, and DJ continued around the practice ring. The announcer called a perfect round and introduced the next rider, this time a boy DJ had seen at other shows. His horse was acting up already. He knocked down a bar.

  One down.

  “Number three is DJ Randall riding Herndon.” The applause rose, fell, and rose again as she trotted into the arena.

  “Okay, big horse, let’s do it.” She swallowed hard as they cantered toward the first jump, a post and rail. Three, two, one, and they were up and over, smooth as could be and on to the next. The ten jumps disappeared beneath Herndon’s flying hooves: the in and out, a brush jump, a turn and over the wall, a water jump, and a chicken coop, with a triple being the last and highest with a wide spread on the out. Herndon acted as if they’d been out playing as he cantered through the exit gate.

  DJ felt like they’d conquered the world. “Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She threw her arms around Herndon’s neck and squeezed hard. “Thank you, big horse. You’re so awesome.”

  “DJ, did you know you’re on the front page of the San Jose Mercury

  News?” Amy held up the paper with a big picture of DJ and Herndon and another of DJ accepting the plaque.

  “You’re in the Sunday Chronicle, too.” Brad gave her a proud-father smile. “Way to go, kiddo.”

  Four entrants had jumped while she visited with her family and friends at the far corner of the
ring. DJ had heard some of the announcements but not all.

  Joe caught her questioning look and said, “So far three out and four in, including you.”

  “I better get us moving again. Talk with you later.”

  She moved Herndon back out into the pattern of riders and picked up a slow trot. Tony passed her. “Way to go, DJ. We’re all the way.”

  “You just show ’em how.”

  When Tony finished his round, he had done just that. Another perfect score. The next round the field had narrowed to seven. The attendants raised the bars three inches and cleared the arena.

  DJ jumped second this time, another perfect round following a perfect first rider. The next two hit the bars. Tony jumped a perfect round; the one following him hit; and the last one ticked—the bar rocked but didn’t go down, so she was in for the next round.

  With four riders left, the bars were raised another three inches, to four feet. The attendants removed one of the brush jumps and switched two others around.

  Herndon cleared them all, including the direction change, with room to spare and a tail that flicked an I told you so. DJ had to laugh when they exited. Herndon snorted and jigged sideways as she drew him down to a walk.

  This round left three riders, DJ and Tony included. The bars went up three inches again with more changes.

  DJ now jumped first. When they called her number, she patted Herndon’s shoulder. “This is it, big horse. They’re getting high now.” Real high. Oh, Lord, please help us do our best.

  The wall looked enormous. Good thing they flew over it before DJ had time to panic. The same for the chicken coop and the brush; they all looked much higher than the others, but Herndon took each one in stride. They jumped as if they were one entity, with DJ high on his withers and Herndon with his ears pricked forward toward the next jump. They cantered out of the ring to thundering applause.

  Her heart pounding, DJ accepted a bottle of water from her father. “Thanks, I needed that.” She heard the crack when a horse’s hoof hit a bar and the groan from the audience that told her the bar hit the dirt. “Well, he’s got third place. Come on, Tony, you can do better than that.”