High Hurdles (28 page)

“Actually, we are fortunate to have her at all. Many parents would say riding is off limits to an asthmatic child due to the dust. The Lincolns trust us a lot to let her ride here.”

“After she got stung by the bee up in the park, I’d want to keep her in sight all the time.” DJ flinched at the memory. “Seeing her gasping for breath like that and having to give her a shot scared me half to death.”

“You did well.” Bridget cocked her head and studied the two girls. “You all right, DJ?”

“Sorta.”

“Well, if you need a friendly ear, I have two.” Bridget paused as if giving DJ a chance to add something. “Okay, this is not written on the board, but since Angie is not coming to care for her horse, could you find a few minutes to ride him or at least put him on the hot walker? And, Amy, Tony got here late, so he needs some help grooming the horses along the north wall. Hilary will not be coming, so I would like you to supervise him.” Bridget raised a hand to forestall any groaning on their part. “I know Tony is a bit of a pain, but he will become accustomed to our ways. He
is
a good rider.”

But if he treats his horse like he treats us, it doesn’t matter how good a rider he is,
DJ thought.
He’ll be out of here. And it won’t be a moment too soon.
“Anything else?” DJ fingered the scar again. She’d found herself doing that more often lately—at least it beat chewing her fingernails.

Bridget looked up at the clock above the duty board. “I have a new client coming in a half hour. I might be late for your jumping lesson, DJ, but feel free to start without me.”

“Sure.” DJ bit her lower lip. “I have to leave at 6:30 so . . .”

“So you may have a shorter lesson today. We will make up for it later.” Bridget glanced at the stack before her. “If a wind came through here, we would have a paper snowstorm. Something has to be done about this.” She bent her head to her task, one yellow pencil stuck above her ear in her slicked-back hair.

DJ and Amy trotted back across the parking lot and into the tack room for grooming buckets. “Go ahead, say it, Ames.” DJ’s chuckle had just the right amount of fiendish glee.

“My mother would wash my mouth out with soap.”

“I’m not your mother.”

“But once I got started, I wouldn’t stop. That . . . that . . .”

“Yes, go on.” DJ made beckoning motions with her hands.

“ . . . that absolute jerk!”

“Hmm . . . not good enough—or bad enough, in this case. We called James ‘The Jerk,’ remember? We need to be a little more creative around here.”

“Beat it, DJ, I’ve got work to do.” Amy flipped another soft brush into her bucket and headed down the sandy aisle between rows of box stalls.

DJ checked her watch. Only a half hour till the students in her beginners’ class arrived. She grabbed a bridle that she knew would fit Angie’s horse and hurried across the middle lane to where the gelding was stabled. Within minutes, she had him groomed, tacked, and out in the ring. He was an easy-gaited horse, and DJ enjoyed the exercise as much as he did. She put him through his paces, all the things she’d been teaching the girls: walk, jog, lope, reverses, figure eights, back-ups, and stops and starts.

“How come you have Angie’s horse out here?” Krissie, a bubbly little blonde, rode into the arena.

“Angie had a bad attack.” DJ reined her mount to the center of the ring. “How about if I teach from horseback?”

“Fine with me.”

“Me too.” Sam, short for Samantha, followed Krissie into the ring. They both walked their horses to the left and stayed just off the rail like they’d been taught.

“We’re going to be adding another rider to this class soon,” DJ announced, keeping her reins steady and patting the gelding’s neck. At their unison groans, she raised her voice. “Hey, let’s give the poor guy a chance when he comes.

“Now focus. Jog, please.”

By the time the lesson was done, the gelding was tired of standing still. DJ rode over to the gate. “You did fine. Krissie, what do you think about working toward entering the trail-riding class? Both you and your horse are calm enough for that.” She turned. “Sam, you have to keep an even pace. You move fast one minute, then slow the next—makes me wonder who’s giving the orders.”

“My horse is. He’s bigger.”

Sam and Krissie laughed but cut it short when DJ frowned at them.

“I’m trying—really I am.” Sam looked sheepish. “I will do better. I’ll practice between now and next week. We’ll do it right. You’ll see.”

“That’s better. No ‘trys’ allowed here.” DJ let her smile return. “You done good.”

How many times had she had to replace “I’ll try” with “I will” back when she was first beginning? Everyone started out saying “I’ll try” at first. And trying wasn’t good enough at the Academy. “Now hustle. I see your moms waiting.”

While the girls took care of their horses, DJ put Angie’s horse up and groomed Patches, the gelding she was training for the Johnsons. The horse had come in green broke, and the owners had no idea how to make him mind. Now Mrs. Johnson was finally able to take riding lessons on Patches.

Fortunately, Bridget had talked the Johnsons into giving their son riding lessons on a pony at first. The boy, Andrew, acted scared to death of horses in general and Patches in particular. Soon he would be DJ’s private pupil every Wednesday. So far, he hadn’t been on Bandit yet, but at least he was grooming him. DJ already felt like she was winning.

Just as she’d suspected, her own riding lesson was cut short, but she almost didn’t mind because she couldn’t keep her mind on jumping. As dinnertime grew closer, DJ fought to think about something else—anything other than her mother and Robert and their crazy engagement.

Bridget made her repeat the lower jumps over and over.

“I know, I know—my focus is shot to pieces.” DJ stopped herself at Bridget’s sharp look. Grumbling would do no good.

Chapter
•
3

“DJ, I’m speaking to you.” Lindy wore the tight-lipped look that meant trouble lay just over the horizon.

DJ looked up from the circles she was drawing on the white tablecloth with the tines of her fork. “I know. I heard you.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You have to admit that was an honest answer.” Robert placed a hand on Lindy’s arm.

Lindy jerked her arm away and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

DJ saw hurt in Robert’s eyes.

Mister, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait till she has PMS
. DJ had to fight to keep a grin off her face. She didn’t need a creative idea to break this romance up, she just needed to keep quiet.

A woman dressed in a black evening gown played a harp by the velvet curtains.

“Can I get you something else, sir?” A white-jacketed waiter appeared at Robert’s elbow.

“No . . . ah . . .” Robert looked from Lindy to DJ. “Would either of you care for dessert?”

DJ started to shake her head, then changed her mind. “Could I see the dessert tray, please?” She made the request as smoothly as if she ate at places like this every other Tuesday. She tried to ignore the withering look from her mother, but she could feel it digging into her scalp.

Robert had discarded three different conversational topics by the time the New York cheesecake with blueberry topping arrived.

“Want a bite, Mom?” DJ offered with a smile.

“No, thank you.” The
k
could have cut glass.

“So, Robert, what do the twins think of this idea of yours?” DJ ventured.

“The twins?” Robert had obviously resorted to polite smiles that hid his real thoughts.

“You know, Bobby and Billy.” DJ savored the last bite of cheesecake. She felt as though she was going to be sick. She hadn’t eaten this much at one time since who knew when.

“They think that having a new mom and a big sister would be the best thing since ice cream.”

“If you are finished, Darla Jean, I would like to go now.” Lindy shot DJ an icy look.

“Yes, thank you. I’m done.” DJ carefully folded her napkin and set it on the table. “Thank you, Robert, for the awesome dinner.”

Robert pushed back his chair and stood to pull out Lindy’s for her. “Honey, are you all right?”

Honey?
Gag time again. DJ followed her mother out the door, Robert bringing up the rear. By the time the valet brought the car around, Lindy was rubbing her temples.

Headache—big time
. DJ recognized the signs. An itty-bitty twinge of guilt waved to get her attention, but DJ deliberately faced the other way. She hadn’t said one wrong thing. In fact, she’d hardly said anything at all. But if looks could kill, she’d been skewered.

So that was the new rule: Don’t answer even when spoken to—until the third time or when the tone took on a real bite. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

But when DJ crawled into bed after faking polite good-nights, all she could think of was how disappointed Gran would have been with her that night. DJ rolled over and tried counting horses instead. She thought about the Olympics and being on the Olympic team. But when she finally fell asleep, the feeling that she had somehow let down Gran still troubled her.

“How come I’m more tired now than when I went to bed?” DJ’s grumbles received no answers. There was no one to hear them. DJ was beginning to think she was going loony, all this talking to herself. Maybe she should get a dog. At least then there would be someone to listen to her.

Yeah, just like you listened to your mother last night.
Where had that thought come from?

The car honking outside told her Mr. Yamamoto and Amy were waiting to take her to school. Wait till Ames heard the plan DJ had come up with before dropping off to sleep. It was destined to work.

“You’re going to what?” Amy and DJ hadn’t had time to talk in the car without Amy’s father overhearing. Now, that afternoon, they were on their way up the hill to the Academy.

“You heard me.” DJ took another bite of her apple, tossed the core into the bushes, and pedaled to catch up.

“Yeah, but you—keeping your mouth shut? Gimme a break.” Amy’s grin took any sting out of her words.

“You’ll see.” DJ tried to forget today’s message on the red-eyed answering machine at home. Her mother had said,
Tonight, we talk
. Her voice had sounded about as friendly as that of a wounded wolf.

Lindy’s headache must have gone away. Or maybe she had gone to work in order to avoid remaining at home with her daughter.

DJ set to grooming her horses for the day, whistling so she didn’t have to think. Tonight Gran would be back. That was one thing to put on her things-to-thank-God-for list. Gran and Joe were returning from her yearly trip to New York to talk with her publishers.

DJ stopped picking hooves when a loud voice broke into her reverie.

“I don’t have to listen to you.” The nasty edge said it could be none other than Tony Andrada.

The answer came as a soft murmur.

DJ listened hard. It had to be Hilary. Why didn’t she just tell him to shape up or she’d ship him out to Bridget? He had to listen to Hilary; Bridget had assigned them to each other. Didn’t Tony understand that the older student workers trained the new ones? And that they all worked as a team?

The angry voice came from farther away. Tony was heading out to the arena.

“Hilary?” DJ left the horse she was working with and went hunting for her mentor and friend. Hilary Jones had always been one to encourage the younger members, DJ included. Through the years, watching Hilary’s graceful riding in the jumping ring had given DJ pure pleasure—and, depending on which day it was, a bad case of envy.

No answer.

“Hilary?” DJ stuck her head into the empty stall. At least she thought it was empty until she saw Hilary sitting in the far corner, her hands between raised knees. A tear meandered down her cocoa-colored cheek.

“Hil, are you all right?”

Hilary wound one corn-row braid around her finger. “I don’t think so.”

DJ slumped down the wall until she was sitting beside her friend. What could she say? “It’s Tony, isn’t it?”

“Umm.”

“When are you going to talk to Bridget about him?”

“I’m not.”

“What?” DJ turned to look the college freshman in the face. Hilary kept her gaze forward. She let the tear drip off her chin.

“DJ, if I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Not even Amy?”

“That’s up to you.” Hilary sighed. “I’m thinking of moving my horse to a different stable.”

“Hilary Jones, whatever is the matter with you? You know Bridget is the best coach around. And not only is this the best-run stable, but it’s also the one closest to your house.”

“I know. But, DJ, this situation with Tony . . . it’s a racial thing. He called me a . . . a black . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You don’t have to say it, Hil. I know Tony is a real creep.” DJ stared at her hands. This couldn’t be happening in Pleasant Hill, California. “But if you move your horse, you let Tony win. You can’t do that.”

“What else can I do?”

“I don’t know, but Amy and I’ll think of something. I’ll talk to Gran, too.” DJ held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her any names. But you can bet she’ll be praying for you, and Gran’s prayers always get answers. You wait and see.”

“I’ll give it till after the fall regional show in the beginning of December. If he doesn’t come around by then, I’m out of here.” Hilary pushed herself to her feet. “Sorry, DJ, that’s the most I can give. I can’t let this keep getting in the way of my schoolwork like it has been.”

“The show isn’t very far away.”

“I know.” Hilary extended a hand to pull DJ to her feet and stepped out of the stall. She turned back. “You better get out there. Your little student is coming down the aisle looking for you.”

DJ groaned. “Hang in there, Hil. We’ll turn things around, we will.”
I could beat that stupid redneck into the ground if I had to. But I can’t do that. What are we gonna do?

DJ met Andrew halfway up the aisle. “You looking for me?”

Her small pupil tried to smile, but fear darkened his eyes, the same fear she’d seen each week during the time she’d been working with him. Whatever could have happened to make him so afraid? She’d asked his parents, but they insisted that no horse had ever run away with him or lunged at or bitten him or any such thing. DJ and Bridget were both stumped by the situation.

Right now, it was DJ’s job to get the boy over his fear since his parents wanted the family to ride together regularly.

“You been to see Bandit?”

Andrew shook his head. He reached for DJ’s hand and glued himself to her side. At five feet seven, DJ wasn’t a giant, but she felt like one next to this little boy who looked more like eight than ten—and a small eight at that.

“Bandit’s waiting to see you. He likes the way you brush his legs.”

“Really?” Two huge blue eyes looked up at her.

“Sure, I think you’re going to be a very good horse groomer.” DJ felt like swinging him up into her arms and hugging his skinny body. She’d always been a sucker for big blue eyes. “How about combing his mane today?”

They stopped in front of the stall, where Bandit pushed his nose over the web gate and nickered silently, his nostrils wide to sniff for treats.

“See, I told you he likes you.”

Andrew made like a mollusk and clung.

DJ stroked Bandit’s nose, then dug in her pocket for a horse cookie. “You like cookies, Andrew?”

He nodded.

“So does Bandit. These are made especially for horses. Why don’t you give it to him? Like this.” DJ held part of the cookie on the flat palm of her hand and let Bandit lip it up. “See, it tickles.” She took Andrew’s hand and tickled the palm. “Feels funny, huh?”

Andrew nodded. A smile almost peeked out of one side of his mouth.

“You want to try?”

He shook his head vigorously, setting the dark hair that flopped over his forehead to swinging. Then he reached down into the grooming bucket and picked up a brush. With a sigh that shook his entire body, he looked up at her. “Please tie him.”

“You are one gutsy kid.” DJ gave him her most reassuring smile. “What makes you think Bandit will bite you?”

“Horses bite. I’ve seen it.”

“Really?” DJ snapped both crossties to Bandit’s halter and opened the web gate. “Where?”

“On TV.” Andrew ducked under the ropes, keeping a careful eye on Bandit’s head. Standing as far away as possible, he brushed down the gray shoulder.

“Oh, really? What happened?” DJ picked up the other brush and moved to Bandit’s far side.

“A horse bit a boy and made him bleed. I saw one trample a lady, too. Horses are mean.”

“Do you think Bandit is mean?” Andrew shook his head and kept on brushing. Bit by bit, he edged closer so he could brush more easily.

DJ kept up a line of chatter, telling Andrew about the times Bandit did well in the show-ring and took children on trail rides. She even got a laugh when she told him about the kids tracking in green horse manure on a woman’s brand-new white carpet at one of the birthday parties. The more she got him to talk, the closer he moved to the pony.