High Hurdles (30 page)

She wished she’d asked to spend the night at Gran’s.

Why is it that when you’re bummed about one thing, it makes other things bummers, too?
DJ forgot her assignment at home, and when she called to see if Gran or Joe could bring it into school for her, they were out. More than once she envied kids who could call home for something and have their mothers bring it. It used to be that way at her house, too—even though Gran had promised only one errand a quarter. That way, DJ had learned to be responsible for her own things. Until today, anyway.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Add a bad hair day on to that and a pop quiz in history and now, by the end of the day, she felt like crawling under a rock, or at least the covers. DJ looked longingly at her unmade bed. All she could remember of her short-on-sleep night was a nightmare where her mother had kept calling her. The voice had faded away every time DJ tried to find her.

She jerked the covers in place, changed clothes, and straightened her bathroom. No sense in adding fuel to a fire ready to burst into flame any time now.

By the time DJ had groomed four horses and cleaned Major’s stall, she felt more like herself. “We’ll ride in a while,” she assured the rangy bay who loved to decorate her T-shirts with deep red and white hairs by rubbing his forehead on her chest. DJ gave him an extra bit of carrot and, with another hug, slipped out the gate. Work before pleasure—and Patches had definitely become more work than pleasure.

“You know, you are the most stubborn horse I’ve ever met.” DJ kept the showy dark brown horse to a walk. She’d let him work off steam on the hot walker, then trotted forty-six times—at least it felt that way—around the arena. Still he couldn’t seem to mind. Slow jog wasn’t in his plan for the day, and his trot left her less than pleased since she was riding Western. Posting made for a less pounding ride. Was Patches picking up on her bad day, or was he just born ornery?

She pulled him to a stop for the umpteenth time. When he finally quit shifting from one foot to the other, she signaled him forward again. Four paces of pounding front hooves, and he was back to a stop. And until he behaved and did as he was told, she couldn’t put him away.

“What’d you feed him, Jose?” She reined the snorting gelding over to the fence, where the head stable hand leaned on the aluminum bar watching her. Jose Guerrera, who blamed the gray in his black hair on the antics of the Academy kids, had worked at the Academy since long before DJ joined the student workers.

“Just the usual. I put him on the hot walker when I cleaned his stall this morning and left him there a good, long time. He needs a lot of exercise, that one. Pretty hyper.”

“Tell me about it.” DJ kept the reins taut but stood in her stirrups to stretch her legs. She could see her girls gathering for their class. “Did Mrs. Johnson show up for her lesson?”

Jose shook his head. “Not that I know.”

Jose pretty much knew everything that went on around the Academy.

“Okay, rotten horse, once more around. And this time, do what I say.”

For some reason, Patches finally minded her. With his ears pricked instead of flat against his head, he walked, jogged, and was eventually allowed to lope. DJ extended the time to several circuits around the ring since both of them could enjoy it now. By the time she’d returned the gelding to the barn, unsaddled him, brushed out the sweaty area under the saddle, and given him half a horse cookie, her girls were already in the ring.

“Hey, Angie, glad to see you back.” DJ locked the gate behind her and strode to the center of the arena.

“Thanks. I’m glad to be here.”

“Is the new routine helping?”

“Got me. But the hospital is the pits. I kept thinking of you guys out here riding and felt like sneaking away.”

“I know the feeling.” DJ greeted the others and ordered the lesson to begin. Today if all went well, they would work on backing up.

She led Angie to the middle to show her what she’d already taught the others. Suddenly, a girl let out a shriek.

DJ spun around just in time to see Krissie catapult through the air and land flat out in the sand.

Chapter
•
5

Out of the corner of her eye, DJ saw a cat streak across the arena.

Krissie lay without moving while her horse tore around the ring.

DJ dropped to her knees beside the fallen girl. With one hand, she smoothed back the gritty hair that straggled from under her student’s riding helmet.

Krissie groaned and rolled over, clutching her stomach. “I . . . I can’t breathe.” The words came in jerks, so soft DJ could barely hear them.

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” DJ did a visual check. No twisted limbs. Body had landed flat out. She knew what was wrong. “You ever had your breath knocked out of you before?”

“Is she okay?” Bridget appeared at DJ’s side and knelt by the fallen rider.

“Wind’s knocked out of her.” DJ kept a gentle hand on Krissie’s now rising and falling rib cage. “You’re gonna make it, kid. Now you know what a real fall feels like.”

“Yeah . . . awful.” Krissie’s eye’s widened. “Where’s my horse? Is he okay?”

“Spoken like a true horsewoman.” Bridget sank back on her heels. “Jose will have caught your horse in a few minutes. You did not by any chance feed him before riding? Jose is trying to lure him with grain.”

“No.” Krissie sat up with a little help from DJ. “Whew, that scared me.”

“I bet it did.” DJ stood and pulled Krissie to her feet. “Now you know why I keep telling all of you to pay attention to your horse and what’s going on around you. If you’d seen the cat before your horse did, you’d have grabbed the reins and the horn and been ready to move with him.”

“Instead of smacking the ground.” Sam had been the one to dismount and dash across to the office for Bridget. She stood now with her horse’s reins in one hand, the other patting her mount’s neck. “Boy, I thought you were a goner.”

Krissie brushed sand off her stomach and chest and spit out still more. “This ground felt mighty hard for being soft sand.” She took a couple of steps and spit again.

“Here’s your horse, missy.” Jose handed Krissie the reins. “He likes extra feed as much as anyone.”

“Thanks.” Krissie glared at her horse and started leading him toward the gate.

“Where are you going?” DJ asked.

“To put him away.” Krissie looked back over her shoulder.

DJ shook her head. “Not yet. We have a lesson to finish. Mount up and join the others.” She made a circling motion with her hand, letting the girls know they should ride to the left.

“But . . . but . . . I still have dirt in my teeth.” Krissie glanced down at her dirty clothes. “I . . .” She glared at DJ. “I want to go home.”

“You’ll be home soon enough. Now get back on your horse, and let’s finish this lesson. Your mother isn’t even here yet.” DJ’s tone allowed no room for argument.

Krissie looked at her now quiet horse. He stood still, head hanging. She sucked in a deep breath as if gathering courage, glared at DJ one more time, muttered something, and took the reins. She slipped a booted foot into the stirrup and swung aboard.

“Congratulations, I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” Krissie adjusted the reins and squeezed her heels into her horse’s sides. He moved forward as though nothing had happened.

“For getting right back on. Tomorrow it would have been harder.” DJ turned to the others and signaled for them to change directions. “Okay, move into a lope.”

DJ sucked in a deep breath.

“Good job,” Bridget’s voice startled her. DJ had forgotten her teacher was still watching behind her. “You are an excellent teacher for one your age. Besides being a fine rider.”

DJ felt as if she’d been given an Olympic gold medal, Bridget’s compliments were so rare. “Thank you. I was scared spitless. She could have really gotten hurt.”

“Accidents happen, but falls are one of the reasons we keep the sand worked frequently. If one has to learn to fall—and you must admit, no one becomes a good horsewoman without falling a few times—a soft arena is the best place to do it.”

“Getting your wind knocked out of you sure is scary.”

“It is. But the only student here that would be a real problem for is Angie. It might send her into an asthma attack.” Bridget touched DJ’s arm. “See you later.”

After the lesson, DJ stopped the girls at the gate before allowing them to care for their horses. “Today, you all had a good lesson on how important it is to concentrate on what you are doing. Horses will shy at the littlest things, sometimes even a shadow. You’ve got to be alert. You’ll get better with time. The more you ride, the more ready your body will be to move with the horse when he startles.”

“Instead of falling off, like me.” Krissie could already laugh about it.

“That’s right. And if you take gymnastics at school, you’ll learn the safest way to fall. Tucking your head and rolling is better than landing flat out. Now get moving, your moms are waiting.”

DJ opened the gate. “Oh, I’ll need entry forms for the show next Tuesday. I expect you all to enter three classes this time.”

After checking their gear and horses, answering their mothers’ questions, and praising Krissie to her worried mother, DJ felt as if she’d earned a lesson on Major. On her way to the gelding’s stall, she paused. The words coming from a stall in the other aisle burned her ears. Who was Tony cussing at now? Instead of going to investigate, she quickly saddled Major and mounted outside the barn door. She sat for a moment, not believing what she had just heard. People didn’t talk that way around the Academy. Hilary hadn’t been making Tony out to be worse than he was, that was sure.

As DJ rode out to the jumping arena, she promised herself that she and Amy would come up with a plan—a plan to make Tony leave the Academy.

That made two plans for her to carry out: One to get rid of Tony, and one to keep Robert from marrying her mother. She and Amy certainly had plenty of work ahead of them. She forced the problems out of her mind and concentrated on her horse. It wouldn’t be too cool if she got dumped like Krissie had just because she wasn’t paying close enough attention.

DJ warmed up Major so he wouldn’t sustain an injury. At the same time, she reviewed his show-ring skills so she could enter him in equitation classes. Like her students, she wanted to be able to enter a minimum of three classes—and at least one of those would be in jumping. DJ had yet to take a first, even in the training shows they sponsored here at Briones Riding Academy. They had one more training show here before the big show in Danville in December.

She focused on keeping Major’s strides as even as a metronome’s tick, no matter what gait they were in. Walk, trot, canter—all at a controlled pace that showed beautifully. “Good boy.” She patted Major’s neck and smoothed the lock of mane that insisted on flopping to the left. It wouldn’t matter in the ring. She planned to braid his mane with ribbons for the big show.

DJ wished she had someone else to work with so she could see how Major would do with other horses in the ring. But because her horse had learned to ignore distractions during his time on the mounted police force, she knew he would be fine. He had been last time, his first time out.

“Are you ready?” Bridget passed through the narrow gate into the jumping arena.

“Sure am.” DJ wanted to tell Bridget what she’d heard Tony say but tattling wasn’t allowed. Anyway, DJ had never been a tattler. She set Major into a two-point trot around the ring and over the cavalletti. Every class began with a review of the basics. Sometimes DJ wondered if she’d ever move beyond them.

Bridget adjusted the bars on the two middle jumps. “Now remember—all your aids work as one. Do not rush the jumps.”

DJ did exactly as Bridget told her not to.

“Fiddle.” She’d been practicing just this, and as soon as Bridget walked into the ring, her hard-earned skills disappeared.

“Good job, DJ,” Bridget said at the end of the hour. “I can tell how hard you are working, but remember, people do not learn to jump in a month or a year. Be patient.”

DJ replayed the advice as she rode back to the barn.
Be patient
. Easily said—hard to do.

“What an afternoon!” Amy met her by their bikes.

“Did you run into Tony?”

“No, but I heard you made Krissie get right back on after she went down.” Amy slung one leg over the seat of her blue ten-speed.

“Yeah, right. You know Bridget’s rule: Always get back on unless you are broken or bleeding.”

“Hurts bad enough getting the wind knocked out of you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Together they pedaled up the road to Reliez. At the stop sign, DJ planted both feet on the ground. “Ames, we have to come up with some plans.”

Amy groaned. “DJ, you know what happens when we make plans.”

“We need two of them. Two big-time plans.”

“Do I dare ask what for now?” Amy turned to look at her friend.

DJ frowned. “Tony Andrada, for one. My mother and Robert, for two. We need to force Tony out of the Academy and stop the wedding.”

“Not asking much, are you?”

“Ames, this is really important.”

“Darla Jean Randall, you remember what happened when you last tried to stop a wedding.”

“That was different.” DJ started peddling.

“Yeah, right.”

When they reached Amy’s house, DJ hesitated at the curb. “I mean it, Ames. I need help.”

Amy sighed. “When do you want to talk?”

“Tomorrow night. Maybe you can sleep over. Then we’ll have lots of time to make plans. Remember to ask if it’s okay.”

When Amy finally nodded, DJ gave her a thumbs-up sign and pedaled off.

Her mother was home, or at least her car was. DJ went through her usual routine, but when she roamed through the house, it had an empty look. Faint traces of her mother’s perfume lingered in the air. DJ climbed the stairs. Passing her room, she knocked on her mother’s closed door. When no answer came, she opened it a crack, then wider. Immaculate as always, the room was empty.

DJ returned to the kitchen and checked the machine. No messages. No notes on the board.
Strange
. DJ grabbed an apple out of the bowl of fruit on the counter and ambled out the French doors to turn on the sprinklers. They were going to have to hire someone to take care of the yard work if things didn’t change around here. Now that Gran was gone, there were weeds in the flower beds and the grass needed mowing. Maybe DJ could get that done on Saturday before Gran and Joe took her with them to Redding.

Back in the house, DJ dished up the remains of the leftover Chinese food and put the plate in the microwave.

When the bell dinged, DJ took her dinner into the family room, curled up in Gran’s chair, and picked up a mystery she’d left on the lamp table and began reading. Lost in the adventures of teen sleuth Jennie McGrady, she didn’t hear the door open.

Before she could draw into a defensive position, the Double Bs grabbed her knees.

“DJ! We been missing you.” The two spoke as one. Two round, identical faces grinned up at her—even their curly blond hair waved the same direction.

“So, how are you two?” DJ set her plate aside and gave them both a hug at the same time.

“Daddy brought pizza.”

“You like pizza?”

“How come you’s already eating?”

“Daddy, DJ didn’t wait for us!”

“Didn’t you read the note I left?” Lindy, in jeans, looked like a model.

DJ shook her head. “I checked all over.”

“I left it on your bed so you would be sure to see it.”

“On my bed? I haven’t even been in my room. Why didn’t you put it by the phone?”

“DJ. DJ!” The twins pulled at her hands. “Show us your horse pitchurs.”

“Can we color?”

DJ tried to answer them, listen to her mother, and greet Robert all at once. She felt like clapping her hands over her ears.

“That’s enough, boys.” The quiet authority in Robert’s voice seemed to penetrate the twins’ excitement.

They swiveled around. “But DJ . . .”

“No buts. Come and take your places at the table. In fact, you can help DJ set it.”

DJ shot her mother a look. She got to her feet, smiled at the boys, and led them into the dining room. Since when was Robert giving the orders around here? And why should she have to eat? She thought of her plate of Chinese, only half eaten. She
was
still hungry—but that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t Robert’s house.