High Hurdles Collection Two (36 page)

An algebra quiz on Monday morning was becoming a weekly event. DJ and all the rest of the class groaned when the teacher began handing out papers.

“But we had one last week,” one of the boys said.

“And there'll probably be one next week, too. I'll try to mix up the days if that will make you feel better. Then you can look forward to it all week.” Mr. Henderson gave an evil laugh that brought only a few snickers from the class.

Please, God, help me think well. Calm me down and make me remember what I've learned
. If only she had spent more time reviewing last night.

But DJ buckled right in and read through the problems very carefully. Then like Robert had told her, she picked out one that she felt certain she knew how to work and did it. Then the next. While she still had two out of the ten to do when the teacher called time, she let out a big sigh of relief. She
had
answered some of them right. She didn't think she'd flunked.

“I forgot to tell you.” Bridget flagged DJ down on her way to the barn that afternoon. “Would you please prepare Patches for a showing to prospective buyers tomorrow? Groom him well, put him through his paces, and wear him down some so they can ride him.”

“This person
is
an experienced rider, right?”

“That is what she said. I have already warned her that Patches can be a handful, and she sounded excited. I will not let her buy him if I do not think she can handle him.”

“Good. I have a favor to ask you, too.”

“Yes?”

“Would you please come to my girls' class and act as a judge tomorrow? I want to remind them what a show-ring feels like, and having someone different will make it seem more real.”

“What about Andrew?”

“He can do the Walk/Jog part, and I'll keep him busy down at the end of the arena while you are judging the girls.”

“Sounds like you have it all worked out. Of course I will.”

DJ gave Patches a good grooming, all the while reminding him that he needed to behave the next day. She saddled him without time on the hot walker and took him out to the arena. By the time he'd jogged around the ring four or five times, spooked at two shadows, and snorted at something only he saw, he finally settled down to doing what DJ asked of him. He turned, backed, changed leads in a figure eight, changed gaits when asked, and even let DJ open and close the gate from his back.

“You do as well tomorrow and you'll make me real proud of you.” DJ rubbed his ears and fed him two extra horse cookies. “I'm going to miss you, you know that?”

“Me too.” Mrs. Johnson stopped outside his stall. “He's a handful, but he is fun, too. I just wish I were a better rider. …”

“You're doing the right thing.”

“I sure hope so. Andrew says he's glad. Guess that makes it worth it, too.” She gave Patches a carrot and stroked his nose. “Bridget and I are going up to see that other horse on Friday. You think I'll get to feel the same about her if it works out that I buy her?”

“I've only owned one horse, Major, and I can't see ever letting him go. Bridget kept Megs.” Megs was one of Bridget's horses from international competition.

“I feel like I'm selling a friend, and that just doesn't seem right.”

Patches rubbed his nose against her cast. “Yeah, you caused that, you wild one, you.” Patches snorted at the smell of it and rubbed his forehead on her shoulder.

“See you later, DJ. Patches, you behave tomorrow.”

“You coming over?”

“I don't think so. Well, maybe. I have to bring Andrew to his lesson. Funny, I was so mad at this critter that day he dumped me in the fence, and now that he'll be leaving, all I want to do is bawl.”

DJ swallowed the lump she felt growing in her own throat at the sheen of tears in the woman's eyes. “I'll do my best with him.”

“I know you will.”

The next day went according to plan. By the time the prospective buyer arrived, DJ had Patches well in hand. He twitched his tail when asked to work the gate and when made to walk when he wanted to keep jogging, but otherwise he behaved.

DJ patted his neck and told him how good he was before turning him over to the slender woman who at least knew horse talk. She could tell Bridget approved of the buyer.

“I'll take him,” the woman said at the end of her ride.

“Good. But you might want to talk with DJ about some of his little tricks. She knows him better than anyone.” Bridget laid her hand on DJ's shoulder.

“Looks to me like you've done a good job with him,” the woman said after Bridget headed back to her office.

“Thank you, but I have one major rule with Patches. Always put him on the hot walker first or else plan on plenty of time to settle him down.”

“I don't have a hot walker, but I can lunge him.” She stroked Patches' neck and shoulder. “He seems willing.”

“Today. Tomorrow he might be a firecracker ready to explode. I've kind of learned to read him, but just always be prepared. He likes to catch you if you shift your attention.”

“You really are a character, aren't you?” The buyer rubbed Patches' ears and scratched his cheek. “I think we will do just fine, and maybe this summer we'll see you at the local horse shows.”

Patches nodded and blew horse cookie crumbs and fumes all over them.

“I have a surprise for you,” DJ told her girls as they filed into the ring a bit later.

“What?”

“We're going up in Briones?”

“You brought chocolate chip cookies.” This from Krissie, who loved chocolate like Bugs Bunny loved carrots.

“No, no. Today we're going to pretend this is the show-ring, and we're going to have a judge and everything, just like you will on Saturday.”

Andrew looked at her, his eyes growing round.

“Don't worry, Andrew. You and I are gonna work down at the end of the arena. These three only get up to here.” She drew a line in the dirt.

“So who's the judge?”

“I am.” Bridget let herself in the gate. “And we will now begin. Circle to the right, please … jog.”

DJ kept one eye on the girls and one on Andrew. He handled a walk well now, sitting easily in the saddle and even smiling once in a while. When she asked him to trot, he swallowed, remembered to sit up straight, and squeezed his legs. Bandit obediently picked up his feet to the faster gait without fighting the bit for more speed.

“Remember what I've said about sitting deep in the saddle, and keep your heels down, back straight, good. Easy hands. Good.” DJ felt pride in her young student well up within her and nearly burst out her head.
Andrew, you are doing soooo good
. But she kept her voice even. “Okay, now walk and reverse. Easy, keep him on the rail.”

When she told him to, Andrew reined Bandit into the center of the ring where DJ stood. “How do you feel?”

He looked at her, a slow grin changing his face from sober to sunshine. “I like it.”

DJ wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him until he squeaked. “Me too, Andrew. Me too.”

The girls rode over to join them when Bridget left the arena with a wave to DJ and Andrew.

“Oh man, DJ, did you see what she did? She made us dismount, change sides, mount again.” Krissie made it sound as though they'd climbed Mount Everest.

“And we had to switch horses.”

“Good practice. You might be doing that on Saturday.”

“I know, but Bridget is …” The three girls looked at one another and rolled their eyes.

“So if you could do it for her, you can do it for any old judge. Now the butterflies won't be so bad. Just tell 'em, ‘Look, butterflies, we showed under Bridget Sommersby,' and they'll fly in formation for sure.”

The three left the ring giggling as usual and teasing Andrew about a little girl who followed him around like a puppy.

DJ hustled back to the barn. She still hadn't had time to work Major.

And speaking of butterflies, she had better take some of her own advice. When she thought about the upcoming show and all the shows after that, the butterflies went to her brain and made her feel light-headed. Was there such a thing as butterfly brain?

Chapter • 11

“DJ, a Sean Maclaine called,” Lindy said when DJ got home.

“Really?”

“Who is he?”

“One of the guys I met at the art class. He's from Palo Alto.” DJ stuck her head in the fridge to find a snack.

“Don't eat anything now. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I told him you'd call him back later.”

“Okay.” DJ emerged with a handful of baby carrots. For some odd reason—in fact, she couldn't remember ever doing such before—DJ walked over, kissed her mother on the cheek, and headed for her room to clean up.

The boys met her in the middle of the stairs, pelting down as fast as she was leaping up.

“We gots to set the table.”

“We saw a dog.”

“Hurry, DJ.”

“Huh?” She stopped at the top and looked over the railing. “What dog?”

The boys stopped their charge and looked up at her, two round faces framed by squared-off bangs. “At the pound. Her name is Queenie. She licked my face.” They ran their sentences together—as usual.

“What kind of dog?”

“Black.” They galloped off, giggles floating back to remind DJ they had indeed been there. She debated going after them and pumping her mother for information but decided getting cleaned up would make her more popular. A dog. They were really going to get a dog. But they hadn't said if she was a puppy. No, not with a name like Queenie. An older dog, half grown. But what kind? Were they getting her for sure or … ?

DJ washed and dressed in double time.

“She's about a year old. The people who owned her before discovered their little boy was allergic to dogs, so they had to get rid of her. She's part Lab and …” Lindy shrugged. “Kind of a mixture, I guess.”

“She liked us.”

“She's had all her shots and seems to have been well trained.”

“How come you didn't bring her home?” Robert asked. “Sounds like she belongs here.”

“Well, I … I thought we should all see her first.”

DJ rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. Her mother was
not
a dog lover. She was the main reason they'd never had a dog. In fact, her mother wasn't much of an animal lover at all.

“Okay. DJ, can you make time tomorrow right after school? Shouldn't take us long.”

“I'll make it. My lesson isn't until four.”

“We gets a dog. We gets a dog.”

DJ felt like joining their chant. For a change the twins were right on.

“Oh, and, DJ, I forgot, but there's mail for you. From that gift shop in Connecticut.”

DJ excused herself and found the envelope on the counter in the kitchen by the phone. She opened it as she made her way back to the table. A check lay in the folds of the paper.

“She paid for the last shipment and ordered two dozen more. Wait till Amy sees this,” DJ spoke as she read. She looked up at her parents. “And more of the Stormy prints, too. She says those foal cards just trot right off the display they set up on the counter.” DJ sank into her chair and reread the letter. “That shop was the trial, and now she plans to carry them in her other shop, too. She asked if Amy could do some horse pictures, too, since those go over very well.” She read from the letter.