Castaway Colt (9 page)

“I
'm sure Stormbird's okay,” Megan said. “It's a small island and everyone talks. If someone else had spotted him—dead or alive—my mom would have heard about it at the post office or grocery store.”

Darby glanced at Cade again, and this time so did Megan.

“Why are you looking like that? Don't you think we would have heard?” Megan demanded.

“Of course not,” Cade said. “There's money involved.”

“Oh, yeah,” Darby said. For her, this was about saving two horses. Of course she'd take the money, but she'd be searching for Stormbird even if there was no reward.

But Cade was right. They couldn't count on everyone feeling that way.

The beach was empty, stripped bare by low tide. They would have seen something as big as a horse.

Darby's mood sank as they spread out, looking for hoofprints.

With the sun submerged, the beach turned evening blue. The retreating waves had left the sand shrouded in white foam. Overhead, a black bird hovered.

It's huge,
Darby thought, looking up so high that her ponytail touched the back of her belt.

And the bird was watching something.

Darby scanned the beach, but didn't see anything. She figured the bird must be interested in something that meant nothing to her—maybe a bubble signaling a tasty sand creature.

And then there were two black birds. No, three.

They looked like big black
X
s, Darby thought, with the top bars slightly bent and the bottom bars shrunken.

As the threesome wheeled closer, Darby saw that the top of the
X
was formed by huge wings. She'd bet they were six or seven feet across. And the bottom of the
X
was a fanned tail with longer feathers at each side.

“What kind of birds are those?” Darby shouted down the beach to Megan.

“I can't remember,” Megan yelled back, then rode Tango toward Navigator as she continued, “We usually see them in summer. After the baby turtles hatch,
while they're scurrying toward the water, they”—Megan pointed upward—“eat them, or snatch them up to carry them back to their nests.”

The flock lifted at the human voices, but not for long. The next time they lowered, the birds let out a raucous chorus of discovery.

What had they found? Darby wondered. Then, over the birds' excited shrieking, she heard something else.

A slap and a splash almost made her think she'd heard a seal, but Navigator told her otherwise.

His deep-chested neigh drew nickers from Tango and Joker.

On the other side of the volcanic rock with the tide pool on top, there was a scoop, like maybe another ancient bubble had popped there. Nestled into its shelter was Stormbird.

“I found him!” Darby hissed at Megan, even though the older girl was too far away to hear.

Darby pointed, and then she, Cade, and Megan jostled for the best views of the colt.

When Cade didn't reach for his rope, Darby asked, “Now what?” Even those two words, spoken in a normal voice, startled the colt.

Stormbird bolted to his feet.

We can't lose him now,
Darby thought.

The colt wobbled on long legs, then leaned against the rock as if he yearned to run, but couldn't.

Cade and Megan looked at each other and exchanged some silent sign that Darby didn't understand.

Megan dismounted. Her boots hit the wet beach with a splat. When Darby started to get off Navigator, Megan shook her head, then threw her reins to Cade.

Megan hummed and sang as she approached the colt. Darby couldn't hear the lyrics at first, but all four horses listened.

Eventually Darby picked up enough words to understand that Megan sang of a woman wading in a lagoon and scooping up tiny fish; and of a goddess wading across the sky scooping up silver stars.

Whatever it meant, the colt was soothed. Megan repeated her lullaby, as she slipped the maile lei inch by inch off her own neck, and eased it over Stormbird's.

At last, Megan edged back toward the other horses, and Stormbird came with her.

He seems hypnotized,
Darby thought.
And weak
.

Was Stormbird sick? Had he run out of food? Was he missing Flight as much as she missed him?

Darby was barely able to hold back her questions, but she did, afraid another sound would make the colt jerk against the slender vine and break it.

Cade lifted his canteen off his saddle. He extended it, along with a bandanna, toward Megan.

Megan shrugged, but Darby understood.

They all knew that the colt needed water. After all, how could a barn-raised baby find his own fresh water when he was surrounded by an ocean?

Silently begging Navigator not to wander away, Darby slipped off the big horse, snagged the canteen and bandanna from Megan, and started toward the colt.

Stormbird's head jerked up.

Even in twilight, his eyes shone turquoise. They stared at her with alarm and then looked past her.

Darby heard Navigator's hooves. The gelding wasn't deserting her, he was following, and that should make her task much easier.

Yes!
she thought. Just as before, the colt was enchanted with Navigator.

Darby held her hands low, unscrewed the top of the canteen, and poured a tiny pool of water in her hand.

Sidetracked by the wonderful smell, the colt butted at her hands and spilled the water.

If he wanted it, why didn't he lick it from her hands? Darby poured more water into her palm and held it under the colt's mouth.

His impossibly soft lips rubbed over her hand. Then, he took a step back, and he shook his head in frustration when Megan's hand snaked the bandanna slowly from Darby's belt. Then Megan
dipped one end into the canteen.

Of course!
Darby thought. The colt hadn't been trained to drink from a bucket or lick from someone's hand. He'd still been nursing when he was separated from his mother.

Megan wiped the wet cloth over the colt's mouth. He licked his lips and immediately understood.

He's a smart little guy,
Darby thought as Stormbird pulled noisily on the end of the wet bandanna.

In seconds, the colt was sucking for water. Megan couldn't get the bandanna away from him to rewet it until it tickled his throat and Stormbird coughed.

With flying fingers, Megan dipped the bandanna again. She'd hardly withdrawn it when the cremello colt lurched forward, ready for more.

“He's too big to put over my saddle,” Cade said quietly, but Darby could tell he didn't want to scare the colt by roping him.

The colt looked at him from under white eyelashes, but he was too thirsty to care about the creature atop the Appaloosa horse.

Darby nodded toward Navigator and raised her eyebrows. Cade considered the gelding.

Navigator was the biggest and calmest of the three saddle horses. If any of the horses could carry a live load, it would be him.

But Cade gave a skeptical head shake, and so did Megan.

Measuring herself against the colt, Darby realized his legs were as long as hers. Even if she, Megan, and Cade worked together and managed to get the colt across Navigator's back, Stormbird would struggle. A chance strike from one of his hooves meant someone would be hurt.

Finally, through a series of signs and whispers, they worked a soft loop of rope over Stormbird's neck, but didn't tighten it.

They'd take turns walking with the colt, guiding him with the maile lei, and only use the rope in an emergency.

At least that's what Darby got out of their pantomime, and now she reveled in her turn to walk with Stormbird.

Warm winds swirled around her, and once they left the beach, trees blew and bowed and showered them with sweet scents.

Energized by sips of water, the colt showed every sign that he'd have no trouble walking back to the ranch.

“What we need is a song or story,” she told the colt. His ears cupped toward her.

Stormbird had enjoyed Megan's song. If Darby had known it, she would have sung it again. Since she didn't, she tried to think of something similar instead.

“Got it!” she told him. “A poem is almost like a song.”

Taking a deep breath, Darby recited, “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night sailed off in a wooden shoe—sailed on a river of crystal light, into a sea of dew….”

The colt tossed his muzzle skyward, but it wasn't like he was trying to get away. He almost seemed to be pointing.

Darby looked up to see a rainbow circle around the moon.

“Good boy,” she said, and then she went on, “The old moon laughed and sang a song…” Darby had forgotten a few lines, but she figured Stormbird wouldn't mind, so she just picked up again where she could.

“The little stars were the herring-fish that lived in the beautiful sea. Now cast your nets wherever you wish—never afeard are we!…”

Cade looked back at her from his position on Joker's back.

Moonlight and shadows didn't give her a very good view of his face, so she couldn't tell what he thought of her reciting.

But his good opinion wasn't the one she was after.

Darby was singing for Stormbird, keeping his spirits up until he was back with his mother, and he liked her serenade so well, he bumped shoulders with her as if she were another horse.

“Just wait until I introduce you to Hoku,” Darby told the colt. “It's the logical place for us to put you.
We can't just turn you loose with the other foals and their moms, can we?”

The pale colt stopped and planted his front hooves wide apart.

They'd reached the trail to the old plantation. Wind tossed the trees alongside the path, and Stormbird's nostrils opened to draw in the abundance of night scents.

Megan drew Tango to a halt, and Navigator sidled up against the rose roan mare.

“Keep chanting or whatever you were doing,” Megan said quietly.

Pretending to be insulted, Darby whispered, “For your information, I was reciting poetry to Stormbird.”

Cade gave an amused snort and Megan replied, “Whatever. Just keep doing it so we can get going again.”

So Darby did, skipping ahead to the next part of the poem that she remembered.

“'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed, as if it could not be; and some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed, of sailing that beautiful sea….”

A dream? Darby knew this was better than any dream she'd ever have.

How many people had ever strolled through a tropical paradise on a Tuesday night, with a prancing cremello and two good friends?

She tried to make a sensible estimate. Fewer than
five, she thought. At most.

Even then, she was pretty sure that no other girl in the entire history of the world had ever been so happy being exactly where she was right now.

Darby sighed and walked on toward ‘Iolani Ranch.

I
t was dark when they got back to the ranch, but Kit and Kimo were waiting for them under the light mounted on the tack shed.

The colt was plodding along with his head down, too tired to notice his strange surroundings.

“Heard you comin',” Kit said. “Good job.”

“Do you think he's too tired to travel?” Darby asked when Kimo knelt beside the weary colt.

“I think that would be pushing him,” Kimo said, but by the time Darby finished describing the shape Flight was in, he and Kit looked at each other as if hoping for a solution.

“Rest him now and we'll get him over to Sugar Sands first thing in the morning,” Cade suggested.

“How's that?” Kit asked.

“No trailer hitch on the Ram,” Kimo said, referring to his truck.

“I'll kayak, if I have to,” Cade said. “Don't want any more crazies stomping around looking for him, or stallions like Luna coming up to teach him who's boss.”

“Kayak's no good with that storm coming in.”

“He's already gone swimmin' once,” Cade said. “Doesn't seem any worse off.”

Darby and Megan tried to make sense of the choppy conversation.

Were they really considering moving the colt in a little boat?

Darby
had
seen a battered yellow kayak somewhere around the place, but she wouldn't want to share such close quarters with Stormbird.

It was quiet for a few minutes until Kit said, “Cade, you're not being sensible.”

“I know it,” Cade said. Then the cowboys laughed.

“Let's weld a hitch on the Ram,” Kimo said. “Been meaning to do that, anyway.”

“That suits me okay,” Cade said.

“Do you feel invisible?” Megan asked, jerking her thumb toward the cowboys.

Darby nodded, but then she volunteered, “We'll take care of the horses,” and that got their attention.

 

Hoku's neigh woke Darby at five o'clock the next morning. She blinked at the sound of an engine starting. The instant her brain made sense of the sounds, she got out of bed and started putting on clothes as fast as she could.

It had been late when Darby had stopped watching from her bedroom window. The silver-gold sparks from the cowboys' welding had looked like fireworks, and she had no idea what time they'd gone to bed.

She guessed that Kimo had bunked with Cade and Kit in the foreman's house because they'd need his truck in the morning to get Stormbird delivered back to his mother before it was time to take the girls to school.

Darby heard tires crunch on gravel. If she didn't run, Kit would drive off without her. It didn't matter how early it was. She didn't want to miss Stormbird's reunion with his mother.

She made it.

 

They would have sneaked into the drowsy resort unnoticed, except for Flight.

The cream-colored mare scented her son as soon as the truck pulled up beside her corral.

Instantly, she greeted him with ear-splitting neighs.

When Stormbird responded, squealing, Kit touched the windshield.

“Wonder if he can shatter glass?” Kit asked.

The colt's whinnies echoed inside the livestock trailer until the cremellos outside neighed and ran mad laps around their paddock.

Poor Duckie,
Darby thought, smiling at the image of her cousin wrapping a pillow around her ears to block out the noisy dawn.

Babe Borden was already up. Like the ranch girl she'd been long ago, Babe nimbly loosed Stormbird to his mother, but didn't allow the other cremellos to escape their pen.

“No media until all three of you are here,” Babe said, patting Darby on the back.

Darby was watching Flight keep the other horses from a too-close inspection of the newcomer when Babe's words sunk in.

“Media?” Darby asked.

“Ah, I see you didn't read the fine print on our website.” Babe said it with a smile, but she wasn't joking. “Part of the reward is contingent on doing just the smallest bit of public relations for Sugar Sands. Nothing tawdry,” Babe promised.

“Oh, good,” Darby said, but she wasn't sure she knew what
tawdry
even meant. Something like
tacky
, maybe.

“I'll notify everyone to call off the search and inform the media of our special award ceremony.”

Darby didn't ask
when
the ceremony would take place, because suddenly, as she watched Flight and
Stormbird, Babe swallowed hard. The mare and foal curved around each other, necks all but twining together.

“Good thing no one's up yet,” Babe said. She wiped the back of one hand across her eyes and glanced toward the main hotel building, hoping no one would see her being sentimental about the horses she clearly loved.

 

Duxelles couldn't have looked any different than Babe later that day at school.

The big girl's eyes glittered with jealousy. Instead of making a milk-gulping spectacle of herself during Nutrition Break, she and her friends made their way over to Darby and Ann.

“I've got your back,” Ann said, not entirely joking.

“Good,” Darby said. She stood tall, trying to look pleasantly surprised at Duckie's approach.

When she got close enough, Duxelles extended her hand.

Darby watched with dread, but when her hand opened, Duxelles only held a piece of folded green paper.

Darby took it, opened it, and read an official request for her to join the swim team. Then, she met Duckie's eyes.

“Thanks, but I can't. I need more time to work with my horse,” she said honestly. “Plus, I don't think
I'll be here long enough to do the team any good.”

“That's from
Coach
. He doesn't send those to everyone.”

“I'll explain to him in P.E.,” Darby said.

When a flicker of relief crossed Duckie's face, Darby waited for the big girl to go away. She didn't.

Darby tried shoving the paper into her jeans pocket, carelessly crumbling it so that Duckie would know she meant what she'd said.

“So, I guess you really are my cousin. My grandmother told me the whole sorry story last night.”

When Selena laughed, Duckie made a gesture that invited her friends to compare the two of them and see if they wouldn't be surprised, too.

Duxelles was tall, strong, and blond, while Darby was slim, delicate, and dark.

“I've been kind of hard on you,” Duckie admitted then. “We just got up on the wrong foot, and I want to apologize.”

Up on the wrong…?

Darby managed not to dwell on the mishmash of expressions.

“That's okay,” she said, but when Duckie moved toward her, Darby took an instinctive step back, spilling some of her orange juice out of its carton and onto her white pullover sweater.

She shouldn't have worn it anyway. It was too hot. Or was she just overheated with paranoia?

Ann must have noticed Darby's distress, because
she moved a little closer and helped her struggle out of her sweater.

Duckie noticed, too, because she prolonged the awkward conversation.

“I hope you know how amazing it is,” Duckie said. “You just walked right in here, the new kid, and Babe and Coach really like you.”

“I hardly know either of them,” Darby said. She felt needless envy quaking off the other girl. How could she stop it?

“That's the thing. Neither of them are pushovers,” Duckie went on. “But they seem to like you.”

Darby looked down in embarrassment, and once she'd thought of something to say, she looked up to see that Duckie and her group were already drifting away.

She let out a sigh that sounded like a steam engine or something.

“Was that as awful as I thought it was?” Darby asked Ann.

“Not if she was sincere,” Ann said, squinting and fluffing her fingers through her halo of red hair. “And I suppose that's possible.”

“I guess,” Darby said, tying her sweater around her waist. “But why? I mean, assuming the coach thinks I'm good enough to join the team, and, well—”

“Stop being modest and spit it out,” Ann urged.

Darby laughed, pretty sure she and Ann were
destined to be friends for a long time.

“Why did he have Duckie deliver the note?”

“Ask me something hard,” Ann said as they walked toward their next class.

“No, really. Why?”

“Right now, she doesn't have any real competition at Lehua, or in the entire region. Coach Roffmore's thinking about using you as her rabbit.”

“Rabbit?” Darby squeaked.

“You know, like in dog races, there's a rabbit that all the dogs are after, and the dog that runs fastest wins.”

Even though she was pretty sure that races used mechanical rabbits, not those born with flesh and fur, Darby asked, “What happens to the rabbit?”

Ann gave Darby a gentle push between the shoulder blades to get her started down the hall, and said, “Never mind….”

 

Darby convinced herself Duckie's apology had been genuine, and she made a point of letting Duckie overhear her conversation with Coach Roffmore and Coach Day. They urged her to swim for Lehua High School, while Darby made excuses for not doing it.

When the shower bell rang, ending the last volleyball game and sending the girls inside to change clothes before lunch, Darby really thought things were looking up, because she'd made it through her P.E. class without being bullied.

But it turned out she was wrong.

Darby didn't pay much attention when Duckie slammed her locker door and stormed around, yelling something like, “Anyone can post anything on the Internet!”

Darby couldn't wait to get out of the steamy gym for lunch. She was simply glad not to be Duckie's target this time.

Darby was rushing down to the showers, still wearing her sneakers, when she tripped, then heard a splat behind her.

Duckie looked like she was kneeling on the concrete floor.

“Are you okay?” Darby asked her cousin, but then, as Darby tugged up the back of her shoe, she realized what had happened. Duckie had stepped on Darby's heel, trying to give her a “flat tire,” and had fallen.

That's what you get,
she thought, but she didn't say a thing. In fact, she'd pretty much forgotten about it until she was making her way back to her locker.

Some uproar was going on over by the coach's office, but Darby was thinking of the lovely way that Hoku's neck had curved over the white colt the previous night.

Darby was smiling when Coach Day stood on her office steps and called, “Darby? Did you push Duxelles down?”

The locker room fell silent as Duckie cupped her
hand over a skinned knee.

“No. Of course I didn't.”

Coach Day shrugged at Duckie. “I'm sure it was just an accident.”

The hubbub started up again, and Duckie had to yell over it.

“It wasn't an accident!”

Darby was on the verge of explaining about the flat tire when a soccer friend of Megan's said, with mock sympathy, “I think Duckie's just a little upset because Darby's swimming times are better than hers. Coach posted them side-by-side online.”

First the girls' voices rose in interest; then there were mocking shouts mixed with swimmers defending their school champion.

Darby edged toward her locker.

“Girls, go to lunch,” Coach Day urged them. “We have a soccer game after school today, and the team needs a few million carbs.”

Duckie's face flushed red, then scarlet and almost purple.

Most of the girls moved toward the cafeteria, but they shot final glances over their shoulders on the way out.

“Now, you two,” Coach Day began.

“Coach, you know she didn't—” Megan began.

“Megan, go eat,” Miss Day said.

“But, Coach, come on!”

“Out,” Coach Day ordered her. Then she turned
to Duxelles and Darby. “Miss Borden, Miss Carter, it would be really great if you girls could work this out on your own.”

That's hopeless,
Darby thought, and a glance at Coach Day told her the young teacher wasn't much more optimistic.

“If you could, I wouldn't have to make a report to the discipline dean, and neither of you would lose your sports eligibility.”

For a minute Darby thought she felt heat blasting off Duckie's body, but she probably imagined it.