High Hurdles (48 page)

“Come, we don’t need to stand here. The coffee’s ready, and we can visit much more easily around the dining room table.” Gran motioned everyone toward the dining room and hung back for Lindy to lead the way.

Later, when DJ had played the scene over for the umpteenth time, she could see the look in her mother’s eyes. It hadn’t been very friendly. And Joe hadn’t been his usual self, either. In fact, without Gran, everyone would have been terribly uncomfortable—DJ especially. But Gran had been Gran, asking questions, telling stories of earlier years, passing around the chocolate chip peanut butter cookies that Brad praised to the skies.

As her mother had said, “I guess it went okay.”

As far as DJ was concerned, the best part was talking about horses. Brad had asked about Major and what she did at the Academy, then told her about their Arabians and some of the places they’d showed.

Man, oh man, did she have a lot to tell Amy in the morning! DJ dug out her journal and began writing. She wanted to be sure to remember every little detail.
At least Bradley Atwood and I have plenty to talk about
, she finished writing.
That’s for sure
.

She was just dropping off to sleep when she remembered something she’d overheard her mother saying to Gran. What was it again? Something about silver-tongued lawyers always getting their way. What was that supposed to mean? All he’d said was that he’d call her. What on earth was bugging her mother now?

Chapter
•
10

“If you had Tony Andrada to buy for, what would you buy?”

“I wouldn’t have Tony Andrada for all the money in the world.” Amy licked chocolate pudding from the back of her spoon as a crumpled milk carton whizzed by her left ear. She turned and glared over her shoulder at the guys at the table behind them. “You’d think the teachers could keep better control in the lunchroom.”

“Ames, you’re not helping.”

“Give him a packet of your note cards.”

“Oh, sure. The Neanderthal probably can’t even write.” DJ dug the last chip out of the sack. “I hate buying presents when I don’t really know the person.”

“You hate to
buy
anything. You put every dime in your saddle fund.”

“I wish. My fund just gets flatter.”

“Be glad you’re buying a flat saddle then.”

DJ groaned. “Now that’s a real knee slapper.” She smashed her lunch refuse together. “Just for that, you have to go shopping with me.”

“If he was a little kid, you could give him a box of Lifesavers or something. That’s what I gave Sue.”

“I suppose you have all your Christmas shopping done, too.”

“Of course.” They dumped their trash into the container and headed for their lockers.

“Sometimes you make me sick.” DJ pointed at her open mouth and made a gagging motion.

“I don’t like leaving things to the last minute, not like some people I know.”

“How far are you on your term paper?”

“Set to rewrite.”

DJ groaned. “I just started writing. The research took up till now.” DJ leaned her forehead against the tan metal locker. “Sometimes I hate school—it just takes away from the time I could be riding or drawing. And now I gotta go shopping, too.”

“You better get on it because the party is Saturday night.”

The bell rang. “Don’t remind me,” DJ muttered.

When Mrs. Adams returned DJ’s journal that afternoon, she had written,
Glad to see you are racking up the pages. It shows this is helpful for you. Keep going.
DJ looked up to catch Mrs. Adams’s eye and shared a smile with her. Now, if she could only get her term paper done on time.

That afternoon at the Academy, Andrew made it for his lesson. They had Bandit all groomed, and DJ was mentally preparing herself for the challenge of actually getting the ten-year-old on the pony.

“Okay, Andrew, this is the big day.” DJ turned to the boy she’d been working with for the last few months. His mother, Mrs. Johnson, owned Patches, and she wanted Andrew to get over his fear of horses so the family could ride together.

“I guess.” He sighed and brushed a lock of straight brown hair back from his eyes.

“Did you bring a helmet?”

“Uh-huh.” Andrew stopped brushing Bandit and looked up at DJ. “Do I have to?”

“Yup. This is the day. We’ve put it off long enough, and I think you’re ready. Everything should go great. Remember how well it went when you sat on him?”

“I guess.”

DJ forced herself to keep a smile on her face and make the boy do what he’d agreed to. “Okay then, let me see you tack him up.” She stroked the pony’s nose to keep him calm. If Bandit so much as twitched right now, Andrew might head for the hills of Briones.

Andrew set the pad in place and looked up to see DJ’s nod. He turned to take the saddle down—and stopped, taking in a deep breath and letting out a sigh that tugged at her heart. While DJ couldn’t understand how a kid could be afraid of a horse, she also couldn’t understand a mother forcing her child to do something he so obviously disliked. What if her own mother had made her take dance lessons, in a tutu no less?

“You’re doing great.”

Andrew nodded and set the saddle in place. Keeping a wary eye on Bandit’s back feet, he reached under the pony’s belly for the girth and buckled it.

“Okay, now check to make sure it’s tight enough.” DJ waited for Andrew to slide his fingers behind the webbing before doing the same. “Never hurts to double-check.”

Andrew unlatched the halter and slid it off Bandit’s nose, then reattached it around the pony’s neck. All the time he slipped the bit into place and the headstall over the ears, he looked strung as tightly as a new wire fence. When he was finished, he turned to DJ.

“Okay, get your helmet.” DJ nodded to the brand-new helmet lying in the corner. Andrew put it on and buckled it in place. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes accused her of child abuse.

“Very good. Now, let’s lead Bandit out to the arena, just like you did before.” DJ snagged a lead shank off the wall when they passed the tack room. She looked around, hoping against hope that Andrew’s mother hadn’t stayed to watch. Bridget had counseled against it, but the unease persisted. Mrs. Johnson so wanted to see her son riding.

They led Bandit around the arena once, then stopped by the fence, keeping a careful distance from the other riders.

Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he chewed his bottom lip.

“We’ve gone through these motions before, but this time you will swing your leg over the saddle and sit down. Ready?”

He nodded.

“Okay, facing Bandit, put your left foot into the stirrup iron.” She kept the lead shank steady and used her other hand to assist her student. “Now, grip the pommel with your left hand and the cantle with your right, and pull yourself up. Use your leg muscles.”

Andrew did as she said and, with her assistance at the last moment, swung his right leg over the saddle and sat down. The look he gave her tightened her throat. A grin tickled the corner of his mouth, and his eyes brightened.

“I did it.”

“You sure did.” She patted his knee. It was only with superwoman strength that she kept herself from hugging him.

“I did it all myself.” Andrew kept one hand on the pommel, using the other to stroke Bandit’s neck.

“Let’s make sure your stirrups are the right length.” She stepped to the front to see that they were even. “Good. Now I’m going to lead you around the arena while you take up the reins and just hold them.” She handed him the leather reins and rechecked his feet in the stirrups. “Ready?”

At his nod, she stepped out, Bandit moving gently beside her.

“S-s-stop.”

They did. “Good boy,” she whispered to the pony and gave him an extra stroke. “What’s up?”

“I-I’m scared.”

“Okay. Are your feet in the stirrups?” Andrew nodded. “And your seat is in the saddle?”

“Yeah, ’course.”

“So you didn’t fall off?”

“DJ, I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

“So what’s there to be afraid of?”

“I might fall off.”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, okay?” She checked the reins again and settled his feet back into the stirrups. “Ready?”

“I guess.”

She led the pony halfway around the arena before stopping him. “How you doing?”

“Are we done?”

“Soon. You’re doing fine.”

“Hey, Andrew, way to go!” Tony Andrada waved and called from across the ring.

Andrew waved back. The smile got wider.

DJ could have danced around the arena. She even felt like shaking Tony’s hand. By the time they’d circled the ring twice more, other riders had stopped to congratulate the little boy. Andrew wore a grin big enough to hold a wedge of watermelon. Joe and Bridget applauded from the rail.

“He will do fine from now on, ma petite,” Bridget said after DJ had given the boy back to his beaming mother. “You have done a good job with him.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get him on that pony.” DJ shook her head. “And now I’m so proud of him, I could bust.”

“That is the mark of a true teacher—one who receives as much of a thrill from watching a student master something as from doing it oneself.”

DJ clutched the compliments to her heart.

That evening over at Joe and Gran’s, Joe and DJ shared every detail of the afternoon with Gran.

“It was awesome,” DJ said with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Hard to believe.” She cocked her head to one side. “But you know, GJ, I still have one major problem.”

Joe turned from where he was rinsing the dishes to put in the dishwasher. “What’s that, darlin’?”

“Well, you’re a guy, right?”

“I certainly hope so.” Gran’s chuckle made DJ smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant, but . . .” She sighed. “I drew Tony’s name for the gift exchange at the Academy Christmas party.”

“So?” Joe leaned against the counter and wiped his hands on a dishtowel.

“So I haven’t a clue what to get him.”

“What’s the spending limit?”

“Five dollars. And I don’t have that, either, but since I already have to take money out of my saddle fund for Christmas, I guess that’s that. But what do I buy him?”

Gran leaned back in her chair. “I think you ought to give him a drawing of his horse. That would please anyone. You have to admit, he does love his horse.”

“You really think I should?”

“Why not? You draw wonderfully well.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“I’ll help you with a frame. I know someone else who would be really pleased to have one of your pictures—Robert. He’d take ours off the wall if we’d let him. Even though you’re not really his daughter yet, he already brags about your accomplishments at work.”

“He does? Wow.”

Gran nodded. “And you know that story you were telling Bobby and Billy last time they were here?”

DJ propped her elbows on the table. “I was making it up as I went along.”

“I was thinking you could write that down and do the drawings for it. They’d love it.” Gran leaned forward and patted DJ’s hand. “You have so much talent, darlin’, and you have no idea.”

“I have an idea I’m going to be totally swamped between now and Christmas. My term paper is due before vacation starts, too.” DJ sent her grandmother a pleading look. “You think I could skip school till then?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

The next afternoon, DJ ambled over to Tony’s stall and looked more closely at his horse. The Thoroughbred stood and watched her, his head over the web gate, tossing his head now and again in a way that made his forelock bounce. The white blaze was distinctive, like a star between his eyes with a long string down to a diamond-shaped patch of white between his nostrils. A blood bay, he had two white socks and a white stocking that came clear to his knee.