Castaway Colt (8 page)

D
uring lunch, Darby stood by in uncomfortable silence as Megan and her friends surrounded Ann and praised the stand Darby had taken against her cousin.

“She was so cool walking over to the track.” Megan imitated Darby with long, ambling steps. “She just moseyed over there, putting her ponytail back up, taking her time…”

Trying not to cry
, Darby added mentally.

She'd been afraid to run a half-mile while crying. What if she started wheezing and passed out or something?

Now Darby just listened and spooned yogurt into her mouth. If she were a different person, she'd be
pleased with all this admiration.

As it was, she felt worried.

By the time Darby had run two sweaty laps and made her way to the sandpits where the girls were playing volleyball, all but Duckie's closest friends were giggling about Darby's stubbornness.

Someone had even created a hand gesture—bringing the tips of all four fingers down to touch the pad of the thumb. If you opened and closed it quickly, your hand looked like a quacking duck.

It was clearly meant to be a silent mockery of Duxelles's new nickname.

“So Duckie's plan to humiliate you kinda backfired,” Ann said, giving Darby a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Kinda, but I'm pretty sure she won't take it as a learning experience.”

“Probably not,” Ann agreed, and there was troubled comprehension in her eyes.

Neither of them uttered the word
payback
, but Darby was pretty sure they were both thinking it; Duckie wouldn't let this offense go.

“She didn't even think of backing down from Duckie or Roffmore,” said Tabby, one of the soccer girls who'd been Ann's teammate, too.

“How could Coach Roffmore not see what she did?” Ann asked.

“He saw,” Megan assured her. “He just didn't care.”

Darby wished she didn't have to face the coach and Duckie in algebra.

“The only way you'd get Roffmore to care…” Megan's voice trailed off for a second. Tilting her head to one side, Megan licked a dab of milk shake off her lip. “…is if you proved you were a better swimmer than Duckie.”

“How good are you?” Ann asked Darby.

Megan answered for her, “She's
good
.”

Megan had never seen her swim, but she said it in a way that reminded Darby that Megan knew she'd swum in the ocean with Hoku.

“Not that good,” Darby said, but her voice was drowned out by the bell ringing, ending lunchtime.

 

After school, Darby stalled.

While she waited for Aunty Cathy to come collect her and Megan, she walked between the soccer field, where Megan's team played, and the wooden picnic table outside the chain-link fence surrounding the school swimming pool.

As the girls' swim team warmed up, Darby breathed in the scent of chlorine.

It made her homesick. And impatient.

When she saw Duckie roll the muscles in her tanned shoulders, Darby thought of her own arms slicing through the water.

Duckie dove into the pool, and though the girl was good—you didn't get to be a regional champion
in Hawaii if you were only
okay
—inside her cowgirl boots, Darby pointed her toes and imagined her own powerful kick.

She wanted to join the swim team for all the wrong reasons.

Darby remembered Ann pointing out the single pay telephone on the campus, right in front of the school, where Aunty Cathy dropped them off in the morning.

On impulse, Darby found it and called her mother's cell phone. Her mother was so glad to hear from her, she didn't even mention that she'd called collect.

“Baby! How did you know I was lonesome for your voice? What's up?”

Darby told her mother about watching swim practice while she waited out Megan's soccer practice. Her mother heard the longing in her voice before Darby got very far.

“Would you like to join? For just a little while?”

“No…”

“Just today, in one of the shops, I saw a gorgeous red tank suit like the ones you and Heather always talked about.” Her mother's wheedling tone made Darby hope that her mother wanted her—or both of them!—to remain on the island.

“Do you think we might stay here?” Darby asked.

“Stay…?”

“In Hawaii,” Darby said.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Her mother laughed. “I just want you to make the most of it while you are.”

Well, she hadn't
really
thought that was a possibility, anyway. Still, what if her mother had forgotten the beauty of ‘Iolani Ranch and outgrown her feud with Jonah?

“But if I
do
earn the reward for finding Stormbird, you know, that lost colt? And I bought you a ticket to here, you'd come visit, right?”

“I'll think about it, honey.”

The scratchy connection stretched between them, and Darby knew from experience that she should quit while she was ahead.

“Bye, Mom. I love you,” she said finally.

“I love you, too!”

Once she'd hung up, Darby's mind spun.

No way. Why join the swim team?

She smiled because her mother had remembered the bright red tank suits she and Heather had chatted about. They'd considered them signs that they were good swimmers so they wouldn't be afraid to stand out.

But her mother had been right, Darby thought. She should make the most of her time in Hawaii. That meant spending time with Hoku.

Darby was still standing by the pay phone when a big white car—maybe an Escalade—pulled over. It sounded as if an entire Hawaiian band was playing inside.

Darby watched as a tinted window lowered automatically. The ukuleles and warbling singers inside the car stopped, and Darby realized she almost recognized the driver.

“Aloha!” the woman called, looking even more familiar as she removed her dark glasses. “Are you Ellen Kealoha's girl?”

The woman referring to her mother by her unmarried name, with her stylishly shingled black hair, Hawaiian features, and orange lipstick, was Babe Borden.

“Yes, but how did you know?” Darby asked.

“For once in his life, my brother was right. Jonah said you look just like your mother.”

Impossible,
Darby thought. Her mother was a movie star.

Still, the words sent a thrill through her.

“Trust me, dear, you do,” Babe told her. “And then, there are your boots.”

Darby looked down at her honey-brown boots and smiled.

“If you were thinking about walking home, you couldn't have reached it before dark. Hop in and I'll give you a lift.”

“Oh, no, I wasn't. I was just, uh…” Darby was gesturing toward the phone when she heard the lock on the door next to her pop.

Despite Jonah's railing against her, Darby thought she might like Babe. She didn't admire her
because she looked more stylish than anyone else Darby had seen on the island; she liked her because Aunt Babe had noticed her cowgirl boots.

Her short, shiny hair didn't show a thread of Jonah's gray, and she was dressed all in white. Her car was white with muted gold trim.

If she owned Sugar Sands Cove Resort, all the white made sense. It was obviously her trademark, just as Megan had said, and Darby didn't blame Babe for being a good businesswoman.

Best of all, with Aunt Babe's help, Darby figured she could be home before Megan, in time to saddle Navigator and Tango. All she had to do was get in.

“Just let me go tell Megan what's up,” Darby told her great-aunt, and the minute Babe nodded, Darby sprinted back to the soccer field.

At once, she spotted Megan on the sideline.

Perfect, Darby thought, even though Megan was poised with the black-and-white ball above her head, about to throw it in.

“I've got a ride home,” Darby yelled.

“What?” Megan sounded bewildered, as if Darby had broken her concentration.

“Aunt Babe is giving me a ride home.”

“Okay,” Megan said. Then she threw and bolted back into the action of the practice game.

“Thanks,” Darby said breathlessly when she'd returned.

As she climbed inside, the scents of white linen
and citrus surrounded her. It smelled like luxury.

Darby settled into the lush leather seat.

If Jonah got mad at her for allowing Babe to drive her home, well, it probably wouldn't last long. Soon, Darby would be bringing home a colt worth a substantial reward from Babe.

“I was on my way to pick up Duxelles,” Babe began, before she pulled away from the curb.

“Oh, well, go ahead, I can—”

“I'm forty minutes early,” Babe told her. “I was going to sit and read while I waited, but this is much better. I have something to show you.”

Darby caught her breath as Babe made a U-turn in the middle of the street.

“Don't worry, I'm an expert driver,” Babe said as they sped in the opposite direction from ‘Iolani Ranch. “Now, I've heard you love horses.”

“I do.”

“Then I must introduce you to my mare Flight.”

Darby recognized the horse's name immediately. She was Stormbird's mother.

“I heard what happened to her colt,” Darby said.

“I invited Jonah over to see if he could help, but your grandfather did nothing to soothe her,” Babe said.

Darby wasn't sure if she heard anger or concern in Babe's voice, but if her great-aunt expected more from her than Jonah, she'd be disappointed.

“I'm not a horse charmer,” Darby apologized.

“Of course you're not. Trust me, dear, there is no such family gift.”

Was that the second or third time her great-aunt had said “trust me, dear”? Every time she said that, it had the opposite effect.

Babe glanced over at Darby. “I don't expect you to do anything. I just want to show off.”

“Oh.”

“Your grandfather's probably told you that I'm a voracious social climber who cares only for money, because I've never outgrown having to collect roadkill.”

Babe didn't sound offended. In fact, her tone was so cheery, Darby had to replay the words to make sure she understood.

Voracious social climber
. Did that mean Aunt Babe was starving to improve her status?
Caring only for money.
That was simple enough. But…
roadkill
?

“He never told me anything like that,” Darby said.

Babe's deep chuckling laugh reminded Darby of Tutu. Though Aunt Babe was Tutu's daughter, Darby had a hard time reconciling this totally modern woman with a great-grandmother who lived with an owl in the middle of the rain forest.

“He hasn't?” Babe sounded incredulous. “Are you sure?”

“Well, he mentioned the money part,” Darby admitted. “But that's all.”

As they raced down the highway, Darby remembered Kimo driving her from the airport to the ranch.

Black lava fields flanked the road, and Darby didn't think they were far from the resort Kimo had pointed out, so Darby decided she had to ask. “What did you mean, exactly, about roadkill?”

Babe tossed her head, as if she had long hair.

“I assume Jonah hasn't gotten rid of our father's fox cages yet?” Babe asked.

Surprised at the direction the conversation with Babe had taken, Darby said, “They're still there.”

“They used to house foxes, obviously, and the first week I had my driver's license, our father saw an opportunity to put me to work doing something new.”

Babe's tone was grim, until she added, “And highly profitable.”

Babe shook her head as she went on, “Foxes are totally carnivorous, as you undoubtedly know. So feeding them is pretty pricey.”

Darby's brain balked. Aunt Babe couldn't mean that her father had sent her out to gather creatures that had been hit by cars?

Babe glanced toward Darby with eyebrows raised so high, they arched above the frames of her dark glasses.

“Trust me, dear, nothing improves a girl's social standing or attracts more boyfriends than cruising around in an old farm truck, picking up dead animals.”

Babe's practiced sarcasm didn't keep an involuntary shudder from shaking her shoulders.

Aunt Babe was kind of stuck-up and phony, but Darby felt a little sorry for the girl she'd been. Still, the only thing that she could think of to say was, “Yuck.”

“Yuck, indeed,” Babe Borden said. Her manicured nails glittered as her hands swept over the steering wheel, bringing them into a gated resort.

The sparkling hotel might have been molded out of sugar. It rose from a pristine white beach to stand silhouetted against the bright blue waters beyond.

It was a different kind of beautiful than ‘Iolani Ranch, Darby thought, but still pretty amazing.

“Welcome to Sugar Sands Cove Resort,” Babe said. “Let me introduce you to Flight.”

W
hen the Escalade pulled up in front of Sugar Sands Cove Resort's stable and paddock, Darby noticed Babe's fence was identical to the one surrounding ‘Iolani Ranch.

That made her smile, as she thought Aunt Babe and Jonah might not be so different after all.

Darby's smile turned into awe when she saw the cremellos.

Six glossy, well-tended white horses—no, seven—waited in the paddock, looking eager for a ride.

Were these the horses Babe planned to give Jonah as the start of a dude string? Was she generous enough
to allow tourists to ride her prized horses for a fee?

Most of the horses ranged from stark white to cream, but one had a tawny coat. Darby might have guessed his coat was just washed with sunlight, if his white blaze hadn't set it off.

All seven cremellos had flaxen manes and tails and slim, leggy conformation.

The most beautiful horse of the bunch stood apart from the others, close to the fence.

“This is Flight,” Babe told Darby.

Until now, Darby had felt anxious about heading in the opposite direction from ‘Iolani Ranch. She'd been polite to her great-aunt, of course, and she was intrigued by the resort, but impatience had gnawed at her, urging her to get back to the ranch, saddle up Navigator, and find Stormbird.

All that vanished when Darby saw the grieving mare.

Flight's white coat was spotless. Her pale gold mane and tail had been brushed free of tangles. But she didn't prance with pride. Her silken mane and forelock drifted across her face like a mourning veil as she paced the fence, ignoring the extra food set out for her.

Every few strides, she paused to give long nickers.

How long has she been doing this?
Darby wondered, noticing the huskiness of the mare's cries.

Flight stopped just feet away from Darby. Raising her head and pricking her ears, the mare stared into
the distance, listening for an answer from her lost foal.

Babe gravitated to the mare, as if she had no choice, and the horse came to her, shoving urgently against the fence.

Babe made a helpless gesture.

“I don't know what she expects. I'm doing all I can. Everyone I know is out looking for Stormbird. I'd be out there myself if I weren't here working for your feed, wouldn't I, baby?”

Babe reached through the fence to pet the horse, then cleared her throat.

“You're just a drab-coated bag of bones, aren't you, girl?”

Babe's way of pairing harsh words with gentle actions reminded Darby of Jonah, too.

Darby remembered how he'd sworn at Hoku even as he dove into sharp strands of barbed wire to cut her free.

“Did the other horses edge her out of the herd, or is she a loner?” Darby asked.

“A little of both,” Babe told her. “She was gone for a while, being trained on Maui, and since her return, Flight's been so sad, I think the herd bonds are sort of strained.”

Being trained?
Flight's jutting ribs and the hollows above her eyes made her look too old for special training.

“She's only five,” Babe said, following the direction
of Darby's gaze. “I have to find her colt or she's not going to make it.”

Darby had been eager to track down Stormbird before, but now she was desperate, and her desperation had nothing to do with money.

It was hard not to tell Babe that she'd seen the colt, but Darby decided she'd wait until there was no chance of disappointing her great-aunt. That would be like losing him twice.

“I'd better go,” Darby said, “but you can just drop me off at school. I mean, it was so nice of you to show me your horses, and the resort,” Darby said as they got back into the Escalade. When she spotted the car clock, Darby added, “It is getting late and I'm sure you don't want to keep D—”

Darby swallowed hard. She'd come so close to saying Duckie that she became tongue-tied and was unable to pronounce her cousin's real name.

“She'll be fine,” Babe said.

They'd passed the turnoff to Lehua High School and gone a few miles farther when Babe raised her dark glasses, looked at Darby, and asked, “Did you hear about my plan for a riding stable at ‘Iolani?”

“Yes,” Darby answered, and though she didn't mean to set her jaw and go silent, that's just what she did.

“Not you, too.” Babe sounded surprised. “You absolutely echoed Jonah's tone of voice. Next you'll be saying it's a betrayal of our native heritage.”

Babe didn't sound disappointed, just resigned to the fact that it would take them both a while to come around to her way of thinking.

“Your mother would see the beauty of my plan,” Babe said.

Darby didn't tell her that the idea had already won over Aunty Cathy and Megan.

“In fact,” Babe said, shaking her index finger toward the windshield, “perhaps Ellen Kealoha Carter, my famous niece, should stay at Sugar Sands Cove with some of her celebrity friends.”

Babe nodded and her lips curved in amusement, as if her imagination was spinning her idea into a star-studded fantasy.

Darby decided it would be mean to tell Aunt Babe that Mom's friends weren't celebrities, but struggling actors like she was. In fact, one of her best friends chuckled that his biggest claim to fame was when a fan magazine had dubbed him “dog walker to the stars.”

Aunt Babe cleared her throat before saying, “Jonah should consider the future.”

There was something morbid in Babe's tone.

“I think he does,” Darby told her great-aunt. “Maybe too much. He's always—” Darby closed her mouth. It felt like a betrayal, revealing how Jonah fretted over who'd run the ranch after he was gone.

“He's always what?” Babe turned down the dirt road to the ranch.

“Considering the future,” Darby repeated her great-aunt's words.

Darby was surprised when Babe braked hard at the cattle guard in front of the ranch gate and asked, “Is this close enough?”

“Sure,” Darby said.

It took her a minute to grab her backpack and open the door. She was barely clear of the vehicle before Babe slammed the gear shift into reverse and left.

 

An hour later, Cade and Megan were following Darby's directions back to the spot where she'd seen the lost colt. This time they wore maile leis for luck.

“I might like them even more than the flower ones,” Darby had said when Cade hung the strand of leaves in a horseshoe around her neck.

Leathery pointed leaves ran in pairs along a vine, which hung down to her elbows. Its fragrance struck Darby as a combination of vanilla and pine.

“You
made
these?” Darby asked.

“They're traditional for paniolos, just twisted together,” Cade said. He fiddled absently with the keeper on his rope as if Darby were making too much of the simple lei. “But I was thinking the colt might be more comfortable with us if we smell, uh, not just human, but natural.”

“Good idea,” Megan told him.

“Thanks, Cade,” Darby said, but she wished Cade
hadn't brought his rifle.

Your reaction is totally irrational,
Darby told herself.

A dangerous wild boar had proven that just last week. A weapon could be vital in rough country, and parts of Wild Horse Island still counted as wilderness. If Cade hadn't put the rabid animal down, it might have hurt Hoku, Navigator, or Tango.

As they rode through the forest, heading for Night Digger Point Beach, something fell out of the trees and struck the ground off to their right.

Cade twisted in his saddle to face the sound.

“Relax, Lone Ranger,” Megan joked, “it was just a candlenut falling.”

Despite Megan's crack about Cade acting like a gunslinger, he rode on with one hand holding his reins and the other on his rifle scabbard.

A gust of salty wind blew at them from Night Digger Point Beach, and Darby knew they were getting close.

Megan turned toward Darby and mused, “I wonder if you're the only one who's seen him.”

“Me too,” Darby admitted. “When I met Aunt Babe, she didn't say anyone else had reported seeing him.”

“You didn't tell her
you
had,” Cade said.

“No.” Darby wondered why Cade sounded as sure as if he'd been there.

“Probably not, then,” Megan said, but she didn't catch Cade's superior look.

What's that about?
Darby asked herself, but the others rode quickly, trying to beat the night, and she had all she could do to match their pace.

As they rode onto Night Digger Point Beach, Darby was struck again by its lack of greenness.

If she'd been any place besides Wild Horse Island, that might not have seemed remarkable, but in Hawaii it was rare to see a place where you'd only need three colors to paint a landscape: blue, white, and black.

Blue water, black sand, and white-capped waves, that is.

“It's a good thing we rode out tonight,” Megan told them. “My mom says a storm's on its way.”

Blue sky shadowed with black clouds made a background for white birds winging inland.

“He needs to take shelter,” Darby said, and suddenly the three colors of the place rang like an alarm. “If there's nothing green here, what he's been eating?”

“He'll be hungry,” Cade said.

All at once Darby wondered if she'd been naive about the colt's chance for survival without his mother to give him milk.

When were foals weaned from milk to grass? In the back of her mind, she thought Sam Forster had said that her filly, Tempest, hadn't been weaned until she was six months old!

“If he's really only three or four months old, has
he been weaned?” Darby asked gingerly.

“He has now,” Cade said.

“Don't be mean,” Megan said to Cade. Then, standing in her stirrups as she looked out to sea, Megan said, “Hey, Darby, I think I saw a mermaid.”

Darby brushed aside Megan's silly attempt to distract her. “There's not much to eat around here, is there? You don't think he starved, do you?”

“Didn't you say he was playful?” Cade asked.

“Yes, but that was two days ago.”

“Obviously he'd been eating
something
if he was having a good time with Navigator,” Megan said.

Wild horses
were
pretty resourceful, Darby thought. But this colt wasn't wild; just alone.