Galloping Gold (15 page)

They found Kit and Cade putting the finishing touches on Sugarfoot's eye rings.

“Wow!” Ann stepped closer to greet her horse and examine the red paint surrounding Sugarfoot's eyes.

“The old ones say it will improve his vision,” Kit told them.

“Anything that helps,” Tyson said. He lifted the heavy Western saddle they'd decided to use in place of the endurance saddle, since it would give Tyson more security.

But Tyson was surprised when Kit asked him to press his hand palm down in the tray of red paint.

“Now put it on Sugarfoot's left flank,” Kit said.

“Pele red,” Cade said approvingly.

Then, using Sugarfoot's right flank as their canvas, Darby and Ann dipped their hands and pressed palm prints with their thumbs overlapping so the pattern looked like an owl.

“Caught you red-handed, didn't I?”

Darby decided shock had damaged her brain. The voice sounded like her dad's.

And when she turned around, there he was, handing off a huge stack of pizza boxes to Ellen Kealoha Carter, her beautiful movie-star mother.

“What?” Darby croaked.

“This is my surprise,” her mother said. “I brought the fruit, too, but I thought pizza would be better than fried goat or pork chops.”

“Mom!” Darby said, looking in the direction of Pigolo's pen, and then at Francie.

“Should I have gotten my hands on tempura shrimp instead?” Ellen asked, pretending to worry.

“Daddy!” Darby said, and she launched herself into her father's arms, trying to keep her red hands off his shirt.

“Baby,” her father said. “Have I ever missed you!”

It was undoubtedly the weirdest morning of her life. Darby decided that she'd have to ask Tutu what kind of magic cloud had fallen over ‘Iolani Ranch, but she'd have to do it later because her teammates were growing impatient.

They allowed themselves to be introduced, and promised to look for the Carters and Aunt Babe, who'd just arrived out on the course with Duckie and trays of ginger-fragrant spring rolls.

Darby waved at her parents, then quickly and quietly put them out of her mind to focus on the race.

While Tyson led Sugarfoot around to dry, Ann's parents caught up with her and talked to Darby while she tied back her hair and put on her helmet.

Darby didn't hear a word of anyone's advice, but she did say, “I wish you were going, too,” as she hugged Ann.

“Me too, and—ow! What, Dad?”

“Sorry sweetie, nothing,” Ed Potter said.

“Nothing, except that you stomped my toe.”

Ed stopped scanning the crowd, and said, “Just for a minute there, I thought I saw our insurance man.”

“My dad's paranoid,” Ann told Darby. “He's been seeing the guy everywhere.”

Ramona patted her husband's arm. “Ed, Mr. Border will be at the ranch tomorrow. What reason would he have to show up today?”

“None, I s'pose,” Ed said.

“I wouldn't bet on it,” Darby said. “It's been a bizarre morning.”

When Sugarfoot's cinch was fastened for the last time, and Darby had swung into the saddle, she couldn't help wondering if the insurance man really was there.

“See you under the big ohia tree,” Ann promised.

Darby nodded, recalling that at their first stop, the rules allowed a horse to be “hand-tied.” That meant it could be held by an extra team member who'd calm the horse and make sure everything was going as planned.

Ann's parents had agreed to let her be that team member.

“See you there,” Darby replied, but her mind was on Ed Potter's so-called paranoia.

Then, even though he was a levelheaded rancher, not prone to silly worries or extravagant shows of emotion, Ed took hold of Sugarfoot's bridle by the cheek straps and kissed the gelding's nose.

“Aloha!” Darby called to them all, then bent down close to Sugarfoot's ears and whispered, “Do your best, boy. It's your last chance.”

 

The race started at an open spot in the forest. Fifteen runners warmed up by stretching and gobbling energy bars. Fifteen horses pawed the ground with nerves, spooking at flags and radio static from walkie-talkies, sweating in anticipation. Fifteen riders reminded themselves they'd walked the course, scheduled each stop, practiced each swap between rider and runner.

“All this planning. What a waste,” Tyson muttered.

“Don't start!” Darby snapped at him.

Tyson shrugged off her irritability, then said, “How ya gonna plan for what forty-five living things are gonna do?”

Forty-five living things
. The phrase echoed in Darby's mind as Pauli kissed each of her cheeks for luck, then did the same to an unreceptive Tyson.

He not only didn't look like the kid with the hooded gray sweatshirt who'd said he treated Jewel like a bicycle; he wasn't even thinking like him.

“Is everyone you know here?” Tyson scoffed.

Just when she started believing the kid was human, Darby thought, Tyson wrecked the illusion.

“Almost,” Darby answered, and waved again at her proud, blue-eyed father. Judging by the way he kept talking to the people around him and pointing, she could tell that everyone on the island of Moku Lio Hihiu now knew he was her father, the best pizza baker in the world, and he had brought his girl's favorites all the way from California.

“Seen
my
dad?” Tyson muttered to Pauli.

I'm so lucky
, Darby thought, but she didn't listen to Pauli's answer or look for her mother or think about Hoku.

All at once Darby shrank in on herself, but not in a bad way. She felt centered and balanced, as a professorial voice in her mind ticked off items from their plan.

I ride first. Tyson runs. Ann meets us at the first stop to help Tyson mount Sugarfoot, because he'll be bursting out of his skin with the thrill of galloping. After that, we're on our own.

At last they were lined up in three rows of five horses across.

Darby thought her heart would pound out of her chest with eagerness before Dr. Luke dropped the flag, but then he was shouting, “Go!,” and they started.

Electricity wasn't really jolting down her arms and legs, so it must have been adrenaline.

The horses leaped forward as one.

What am I doing in the middle of this wild herd?
A rush of fear filled her as she was surrounded by horses.

Light,
Darby thought,
I need light and space
.

Then the horses were spreading out, but some slammed into trees and each other.

It was an unpredictable herd, just as Tyson had said, and she heard shouts over the pounding hooves. What were they saying?

“Loose horse!”

Sugarfoot. She hadn't given a thought to the gelding and what he must be feeling. Head held high, body tense between her knees, he was elated. For a fleeting second, so was she. And then a riderless horse crashed into her and she was falling, with someone's words—Ann's? Tyson's?—playing in her mind:
If you get thrown at the start, you'll never see him again, so stick on, no matter what you do!

And she would have, if a bald-faced, Clydesdale-sized bay hadn't plowed into Biggy Nuff, sending the pony into Sugarfoot's right flank.

“Loose horse!”

The words were still ringing in Darby's ears when she hit the ground.

At least I'm at home here,
she thought giddily—facedown in the dirt.
I've fallen way too much to be a real horse charmer like Jonah
.

She'd managed to get up on her hands and knees and she was yelling, “Shug!” when a flea-bitten gray horse jumped over her. She had time to cover her head,
but that meant she didn't see if Ann's gelding slowed at the sound of his name.

Don't be at the start
. Darby sent the Potters' insurance man a desperate message, hoping the day was weird enough that her order would reach him and keep him from seeing the mess she was in.

Because it wasn't Sugarfoot's fault.

Wrapped in a haze of dust with hooves all around, Darby crouched, covering her ears, shutting her eyes, thinking,
This is the meaning of chaos
.

“Hey! You blew it!”

The voice was Tyson's. Darby opened her eyes enough to see a flash of hibiscus red as he ran past.

“I'll keep going until I see you and Shug bearing down on me.”

Change of plan. Just like that, the first minute of the race had turned their entire strategy upside down. All because she'd fallen from the horse she'd been trying to show off as a well-mannered mount.

She thought of flopping back down in the dirt, just giving up, but Tyson turned and looked over his shoulder at her through the dust.

Darby imagined him shouting, “Get up, you moron!,” but that wasn't what happened. Instead, just like a real teammate, he grinned, flashed her a shaka sign, and ran on.

Darby bolted to her feet and started running and there—right there!—was Sugarfoot. Frolicking in the midst of the stampede of riderless horses, he was
having too great a time to run very far or fast.

She lengthened her stride. Eyes set on the galloping herd, she pumped her arms and called on every muscle to catch up. All around her there was laughter, swearing, and groans. She wasn't the only rider who'd been dumped or the only one sprinting after her excited mount.

She coughed against the dust. This was why the experienced runners and riders wore bandannas over their noses and mouths.

She stepped on a pair of fallen sunglasses, but she was close enough to the horses now that rocks flying up from hooves hit her, peppering her shins.

She smelled greenery trampled by horses that veered off into the foliage to explore, but Sugarfoot didn't follow them. By now he knew the rain forest, and he loped on ahead.

The trail narrowed and the trees closed in again and suddenly the gold-and-white horse ran out of sight.

Rain forest flanked the path, offering cool shade, and she knew a mile had passed since the starter's flag had fallen.

She pushed back despair with the thought that Sugarfoot was probably just ahead.

She passed a few tied horses. A bay with a rainbow of ribbons in his mane and tail was being hand-held for this first exchange and so was a gray Arab with purple pompons on her small saddle and a grease pencil heart
drawn on one hip.

Everything had worked just as Luke had said it would, Darby realized. No runners, including her, wasted time by slowing, searching for the right horse among wrong ones.

Around her, riders were becoming runners, but her team didn't have a rider!

Darby ran faster.

Ann! There she was, just as she'd promised. But she was running out onto the course to catch Sugarfoot!
Oh my gosh, her parents would kill her,
Darby thought,
or me.
But Ann had caught her horse and she was already leading him back under the big ohia tree.

Almost there, Darby watched as Ann kept her arms extended, holding Sugarfoot's reins on each side of the bit.

A celebration rocked in Darby's chest as she headed for the caramel-and-white coated paint with Pele-red handprints on each flank.

As if he recognized her footsteps, Sugarfoot looked back and whinnied at the sight of her, urging her to hurry up.

Ann's red curls felt crispy as they brushed Darby's cheek, and Ann talked a mile a minute as she turned the stirrup for Darby's foot.

“Tyson's already gone by. He was the first of the runners. He told me what happened, but he said you were okay.”

Darby only realized she was mounting slowly,
listening, when Ann boosted her into the saddle.

“Thanks,” she said, settling herself, and when she looked down, she saw that Ann had tears in her eyes.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Ann said, and then, just as her father had, she grabbed the cheek pieces of Sugarfoot's bridle and kissed his nose. “And you, too.”

That was a dangerous thing to do. Sugarfoot was so excited by the horses running by, he could have pulled away or tossed his head, breaking
Ann's
nose. Darby would have scolded her friend, but she couldn't. Her chest hurt and she was out of breath.

Ann stepped back, clearing the way for Sugarfoot to join the passing herd. As soon as Darby lifted the reins, the palomino paint was off, and then he was loping smoothly, accelerating into a gallop, surging forward, trying to lead the herd!

“You go, Shug!” Darby yelled, and the horse lined out in a full run.

A mile later, Darby felt the gelding shift from a head-flattened run to a more collected gait. And then they began passing more horses tied to trees.

It seemed like she'd been riding forever. Had she missed Tyson? Should she turn back?

There!
Tyson ran at the front of the pack, ahead by at least ten horse lengths.

What do I do now?
she thought wildly, but her memory told her to pass him and spot a good place to stop.

She'd barely dismounted and started to tie Sugarfoot when Tyson was coming at her.

Dark face flushed, arms and legs churning, he might have bowled Darby over if Sugarfoot hadn't shied.

“Go! Go! Go, now!” Tyson was shouting.

Darby didn't know where he got the breath, but while she was wondering he kept yelling, “Gogogogo” an annoying number of times.

Finally, he broke her trance with a push and she jogged away from him.

I hope he remembers to lengthen the stirrups,
Darby thought.

Afoot, she noticed horses standing in clouds of steam from their own body heat. Sleek flanks moved in and out. Nostrils flared wide open, showing red inside. Eyes flashed with excitement as they stared down the trail, looking for their next rider.

Tyson and Sugarfoot loped past, and though Tyson looked scared, his stirrup leathers weren't flapping and he appeared secure in the saddle.