High Hurdles Collection Two (37 page)

“Man, oh man. Wait until I tell Mrs. Adams.”

“You better tell Amy first. And I'd suggest you call Bottomly Farms and ask if they'd like to carry the note cards. They should sell a lot of merchandise from their tack shop the day of the show. That would give you more exposure around here.” Lindy handed one of the boys her napkin to help mop up the water he spilled.

“Don't worry,” she said when Bobby apologized. “No big deal.”

DJ blinked at her mother's calm reaction to the spill. She sure was different lately. “Good idea. You really think they'd like to carry our notes?”

“Never hurts to ask.”

“If they do, that means we'll have to go back to the printer soon.” DJ chewed in between talking.

“Seems to me the two of you have a good thing going,” Robert said. “You better start thinking of setting it up like a real business. Get a separate bank account, that kind of thing. Maybe you should make your mother the marketing person. She could set up accounts while she is home on leave.”

“Set up accounts?” DJ could feel her eyes stretch along with her mind. “You mean we might have a real business after all our crazy money schemes?”

“Looks that way to me.” Robert nodded and smiled at both Lindy and DJ. “Be a real success story for that book you've been thinking about.”

“The one on kids and businesses?” DJ looked at her mother. “You still thinking about that?”

Lindy nodded. “It's been bugging me lately. And now this …”

“Gran would say God is talking loud and clear.”

“I know, she told me that already.” Lindy wiped her mouth with her napkin. “If no one wants any more of the scalloped potatoes, we have dessert.”

“Then can we go see Queenie?” the twin who didn't have a wet front asked.

“Not until tomorrow. The Humane Society is closed now.”

“But what if someone else likes her?”

“They said they'd keep her for us to decide first.”

DJ let out a sigh of relief. She already thought of Queenie as theirs, and she hadn't even seen her yet.

When she called Sean, he wasn't home. So they would have to play phone tag.

But Amy was home, and she let out a shriek that nearly broke DJ's eardrum. She held the phone away from her ear and made a face at it. “You done now?”

“You won't believe this, but I just took three whole rolls of film of some pinto babies Mom and I saw. They were so cute, and if these turn out … Is God awesome or what?”

Queenie took one look at DJ and glued herself to her leg. She licked one boy's face, then the other and Robert's hand, sending a tail wag and friendly glance at Lindy.

“This is one smart dog.” DJ leaned down and rubbed the black ears. She had a white diamond on her chest and one white back foot. One ear stood up, giving the medium-sized dog a quizzical expression. Her tail never quit wagging.

“Looks to me like she adopted you, not the other way around,” the woman at the Humane Society said with a smile. She looked at the twins. “Now, you boys make sure that she gets lots of exercise …”

“That won't be hard,” DJ said in an aside to Robert.

“ … and that she gets fed morning and night.”

“And lots of water, huh?” one of the Bs said with the other nodding, their faces serious for a change.

“That's right. It takes big boys to care for a dog.”

“Uh-huh.” They nodded. “We're big.”

“Looks like we better run by the pet store.” Robert held the door for them to leave. DJ held the leash Queenie's first family had sent with their dog. The collar said “Queenie” on a brass plate. Queenie walked beside DJ as though they'd been doing this for years. She jumped into the back of the Bronco, her head over the backseat, panting in the twins' ears.

“We'll drop you off at the Academy, okay?” Looking in the rearview mirror, Robert caught DJ's gaze.

“Sure, thanks.” She kept one hand on the dog.

“Now, I want to make this clear: Queenie will be sleeping in the garage,” Lindy said firmly. “We'll get her a bed and …”

Groans from all three in the backseat.

“Now, kids, we have to get to know her, and she must get to know us. We need to make sure she remembers that she is housebroken.”

“So she won't pee on the rug?”

“Yucky.”

“Boys.”

The twins looked at each other and giggled.

“You guys don't need a pet. You've got each other.” DJ ruffled their hair. “Take care of Queenie, now.” She looked at Robert and shook her head. “We have to give her a better name than that.” And with that she stepped from the car and headed for the barn.

As she reached the door, Patches' new owner was leading him out of the barn. “You got here just in time to say good-bye.” She stopped and let DJ pet him.

“You behave yourself, now, you hear?” DJ dug in her pocket. Nothing. “Just a minute.”

She dashed into the tack room and grabbed a carrot out of the sack she kept there. Breaking it in pieces, she palmed one for him and rubbed his ears. “I better not get any bad reports.” Patches nosed for a second treat and she gave him one. “Horse cookies are his favorite, carrots a bad second. But I think he'll eat about anything. I pulled a candy wrapper out of his mouth one day.”

“Thank you for training him. Bridget said again what a good job you've done. Has he ever been ridden English?”

DJ shook her head. “Not that he wouldn't look good under it. He's stylish enough to show that way.”

“I'm thinking about it. Thanks again.” She led Patches off to the trailer at the end of the parking lot.

When DJ heard a sniff behind her, she turned to find Mrs. Johnson wiping her eyes.

“We are such suckers about our horses, I know.” She blew her nose. “If this other horse turns out, I'll be riding again next week. I can't wait.” She tucked her tissue into her pocket. “DJ, I have a favor to ask. Would you be willing to ride this new horse for me a couple of times and see how she goes, then teach me?”

“Sure, ah …” DJ paused. “I don't have a lot of time.”

“I know. Just a couple days?”

“Did you check with Bridget?”

“Uh-huh. She said to ask you.”

“Tell you what—I'll ride her one time and then we'll go from there.”

“Okay. That might be enough.” Mrs. Johnson started to walk away, then stopped. “And, DJ, thanks for the drawing you did of Patches. It makes me smile every time I look at it. You caught his spirit and personality so perfectly.”

“Patches is quite a character.”

“I thought you weren't going to take on anything else?” Amy looked after the departing woman.

“I'm not.”

“You did.”

“I know. What could I say?”

“ ‘No, thank you. I don't have time.' ” Amy grinned, her braces sporting bright red and blue bands. “ ‘Oh, I have to ask my mommy.' ”

“F-u-n-n-y!”

Bridget drilled DJ on her upcoming classes just as she'd done for the girls. Walk, trot, canter, reverse.

DJ figured she'd be hearing the commands in her sleep. Thursday they reviewed the jumping and hunter classes.

“You have to remember to relax,” Bridget reminded DJ. “When you get uptight, you transfer that tension to Major. You have to put the audience and judges right out of your mind. Concentrate. Concentrate. Focus. Focus. And relax. Breathe.”

“And count. I forget to count.”

“You are learning. But for now, concentrate on a clean round. We will worry about speed later.”

DJ patted Major's neck. “We'll do our best, huh, big fella?”

Friday was clean tack and wash horses day at the Academy. Water fights at the wash racks, soap rag rubbings in the aisles. A visitor would have thought it was one big party with all the laughter and teasing going on.

Butterflies didn't have time to play that way.

Saturday morning when they got to Bottomly, the host ranch on Bear Valley Road, one of the young riders threw up strictly from nerves. Trucks, trailers, and motor homes lined the fences and parking area, including that of a neighboring farm. Since the show would start at nine, horses were already warming up in the arenas before seven.

DJ caught a yawn with her hand and stretched, feeling both tight and tired. Since space was at a premium, horses were tied to the trailers they came in or left inside them. She made her way around the vehicles, checking on her girls. She left them grooming their horses, checked her list against that of the women handling registration, and headed back to Joe's trailer to work with Major. They had English showing in the covered arena, Western in the one outside, and Jumping/Trail classes in the one nearest the road. Only by running three rings could they fit all the classes into one day. And still the show promised to run until dark.

The second class out, DJ waited to enter the ring. Since they were showing only Equitation, the butterflies zooming around in her middle surprised her. She took a deep breath and let it out, smiling when Major did the same. As the line began moving, she clucked Major into a trot and followed the other entries into the ring. Walk, trot around the ring, and follow the judge's signals. Stand at attention. Major relaxed as the judge walked around him, and DJ groaned inside. She twitched her reins to keep him alert.

They didn't come even close to a ribbon, although they weren't last, either.

“Well, now we got our first one out of the way. The others should be easier.”

“Don't feel bad,” Joe said as they walked back to the trailer. “Major is a good horse, but he's just not as pretty as some of those others out there.”

“Like that black-and-white paint? Talk about showy.” DJ rubbed Major's nose. “But like Gran always says, ‘Beauty is only skin deep and character is what counts.' ”

“He's enough of a character, that's for sure.” Joe gave Major a carrot piece. “And not much we can do about the pretty part.”

“Here, would you take him?” DJ handed Joe the reins. “I'll be right back.” She made sure the girls were getting their clothes on and hustled back to Major.

“You're going to wear a track between here and there,” Joe said, giving Ranger an extra rub with a soft cloth. “Next time I'll make sure we park side-by-side.” He looked DJ in the eye. “You had anything to eat yet?”

She shook her head. “No time.”

Joe pointed to the cab of the truck. “Gran made sure there was food for you. Eat. Now.”

DJ did as he said and could feel her butterflies settle down. They must have been hungry, too.

“Heads up! Horse loose!”

DJ looked up in time to see the black-and-white paint charge by, lead shank flapping in the breeze. So much for pretty. He probably didn't have a brain to go along with the good looks. DJ stroked Major's neck and leaned against him. “You have more common sense in one ear than that horse does in his entire body.” Major nodded in agreement.

In Hunter Seat she was excused early. They gave six ribbons, and the class had numbered about twenty. The man on the paint placed sixth. That irked DJ more than anything else, other than her own early exit.