High Hurdles Collection Two (42 page)

DJ could feel sweat trickling down her back and alongside her right eye. May in California could be hot, and today proved that point. Her mouth felt as though cotton balls had taken up residence.

“Line up, please.”

Major did everything she asked to his very best. That's the kind of horse he was—all heart, but as Joe had said, “No class. An old police horse like Major doesn't need class.” Major's heart, though, had taken them over a lot of jumps. Joe Crowder, or GJ as DJ had dubbed him, was her fairly new grandfather and had become one of her very best friends and champions.

Ears pricked forward, Major stood still as the judge gave him barely a moment of her time before she went on to the next horse and walked around him to view the animal from all sides.

DJ could feel her jaw tighten.
How rude
. To almost ignore them just because her horse wasn't a warmblood or hotshot something. Always sensitive to DJ's moods, Major shifted his weight from one foot to another.

The judge walked toward the announcer and handed him her paper. DJ knew for absolute certain that their number and name weren't on that piece of paper. Their third class of the day, this no-ribbon thing was getting to be a habit. A not-very-comfortable, hope-it-goes-away habit.

As the announcer read the winners' numbers and names, the rider would nudge his horse forward to take the ribbon and then trot out the gate, waving the ribbon to applause from the stands.

DJ used internal super glue to keep her smile in place as the winners filed by. Only two days earlier she'd been dancing on rooftops at the result of her hard work. Her algebra grade had gone from a D minus to a B minus at midterms. But here in this ring, hard work didn't seem to count.
You just keep that smile in place
, she ordered herself.

“The rest of the class is excused. Thank you for participating.”

DJ managed to keep the smile on her face, patted Major's shoulder, and followed the others out the gate, all of them earning only a smattering of applause as if they weren't worth the effort.

Except for a group higher up in the bleachers on the right side of the arena. The few competing riders from Briones Riding Academy, where DJ rode, trained, and taught young kids to ride, whooped and hollered as if DJ and Major had taken the grand champion prize. DJ's family cheered, too. She could hear her two fathers—Brad Atwood, her biological father whom she'd learned of only months before, and Robert Crowder, her stepfather of only a few months—yelling above the rest. She fought the temptation to glance up into the audience. Was that her mother's voice?

The idea of
her
mother up there shouting widened DJ's smile. When she passed the gate, her grandfather was waiting for her.

“You did your best.” His smile said her best was more than enough for him and was, in fact, all that counted.

“I know.” She patted Major's neck and down his shoulder. The rangy bay pricked his ears and nodded as if this show and class were the best ever. “You big old sweetie, you just like showing off.” If they had been alone and DJ wasn't dressed in her show clothes, she'd have thrown her arms around him and let him slobber in her ear with carrot breath. “One more down.”

“That's my girl. The next one is Junior Hunter Over Fences, so you'll like that.” Joe took Major's reins. “You go get something to eat, and I'll take care of him, okay?”

DJ dismounted. “Thanks. If my stomach rumbled any louder, we'd have been sent out for disrespectful noises.” She removed her helmet and wished she could let her sun-streaked hair loose from the netted bun she wore at the base of her neck. She patted Major once again and strode up the stairs to her cheering section.

“Poor DJ,” said one of the Double Bs, as she sometimes called her five-year-old twin brothers, his round face as long as he could make it.

“No ribbons,” the other added. The two had a knack for finishing sentences for each other.

DJ tousled a head with each hand and took a seat next to Brad. His wife, Jackie, who competed in higher-level dressage, shrugged.

“You did your best and got more experience in the ring. That's what counts.” She slipped her hand out of the crook of Brad's arm and leaned around him. “But if I'd been judging, that guy on the chestnut would
not
have taken first. His ego is so big I don't see how his horse can carry him.”

“All flash and no substance,” Brad added.

DJ smiled at their comments, then shook her head. “But he even stumbled.”

“I know. That makes it even harder to handle.” Jackie reached around her husband again, this time to pat DJ's hand. “That's politics for you.”

They're just trying to make you feel better
, her little voice insisted, but DJ didn't care. Their comments
did
make her feel better. Funny, but she felt bad more for Major than for herself.

“Thanks, you guys.”

Robert patted her shoulder. “You handled that woman who kept crowding you really well. I was about to yell at her to mind her manners, but your mother put her hand over my mouth just in time.”

DJ knew he'd picked up that crowding knowledge from Brad and Jackie, but the thought of her mother doing what he said made her giggle.

“You need food, I can tell.” Lindy leaned forward. “You want me to go get you something?”

“We's hungry, too,” the twins said in unison.

“You guys are always hungry.”

The boys nodded their heads and grinned at her teasing.

Robert shook his head. “Come on, troops. Let's go get the food. Lindy, you want a hot dog, hamburger, or whatever sandwich they have? DJ?” They all gave their orders, including Brad and Jackie, and the three started down the steps.

“You think you can remember all that without writing it down?” Lindy raised her voice enough for them to hear.

“Of course.” Robert rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Women.”

“You all better plan on eating whatever comes,” Lindy warned those still sitting.

DJ felt trickles of joy in her heart region. This was
her
family, and they were all here at the show to root for her, to do whatever they could to make her day go better. Only Gran was missing. A last-minute request from an editor for changes needed on an illustration for a children's book kept her home. She'd groaned as loudly as DJ when the order came.

“Sorry, darlin, but they need to get to press with this right away,”
she'd said. Gran made her living as an illustrator of children's books and had won awards for her work.

“There'll be other shows,” DJ
had answered.
“Lots of other shows.”

But she missed Gran's quiet comfort. Gran could say more with a hand on DJ's shoulder than most people said in five minutes.

DJ ate her hot dog rather than the hamburger she'd ordered without saying anything but a thank-you. She did, however, wink at her mother and get a wink in return. BR—before Robert, as DJ tagged her life—her mother wouldn't have been at the horse show, let alone winked at her daughter. She'd have been working or fighting a migraine most likely. Gran said the change was due to Lindy's no longer having the pressure of providing for her family. DJ didn't care about the whys; she just enjoyed the results.

“See you later.” DJ wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Time to get ready again?”

DJ nodded. “This is my last one for this show, so Joe and I'll be home later. I want to watch Hilary. She's in the last class.” “You need some help?” Brad asked. “Not really, but thanks.”

After no ribbon in her last class of the day, DJ fought against the twinges of envy she felt when Hilary had to jump two extra rounds to place second in her class. She was competing against known riders, something that DJ wanted to be doing sooner than as a college student like Hilary.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was only a freshman in high school and had a long way to go on her ride toward the Olympics. Hilary had the same dream, both of them seeing themselves as members on the United States Equestrian Team—or USET, as the horse world called it—one day.

But if today was any indication, DJ had a lot farther to go than Hilary.

“So do you want to talk about why your chin is down around your ankles?” Bridget Sommersby, coach and friend, sat down beside DJ.

DJ straightened and smiled with what she hoped was a genuine smile. Bridget didn't tolerate pity parties. “I wasn't feeling sorry for myself, if that's what you mean. I was just thinking.”

“It is hard to do your best against overwhelming competition, no?” Bridget had ridden on the French team years earlier before she retired from competition and opened the Briones Academy.

DJ nodded. “But I did it.”

“Yes, you did. And Major did his best, too. Anyone could tell the two of you were having a good time over the jumps. And while you did not win, you made a good showing. Now we decide what you learned.” She waited for DJ to answer.

“Today I learned that I would rather jump than do flatwork any day of the week.”

“That is something new?” A quirked eyebrow made DJ grin.

“No, just a reminder. In the flat classes I learned that all the competitors aren't as nice as I'm used to and that you have to watch out for sneaky tactics. They can throw you off guard. Even Major didn't like it. Did you see his ears?”

Bridget nodded and waited again.

“Um, I learned that I can do something that I know is necessary whether I want to do it or not.”

“Ah, that is the important lesson. In competition as in life, there are many things we have to do, like as you said, whether we want to or not. The one who can give her best in those situations has gained a life-long principle.” Bridget turned to face DJ. “You will go far,
ma petite
. I know you will.” She stood and rested a hand on DJ's shoulder. “Tomorrow you and Major will take a well-deserved rest. Monday we will work on equitation over fences.”

“Thanks, Bridget.” DJ knew she'd take that amazing compliment out often in the dark times ahead and use it to spur herself on. Getting a compliment from Bridget was better than a blue ribbon any day.

“She's right, you know.” Brad sat down on her other side. “Hope you don't mind that I eavesdropped.”

“No, not at all. I feel like I should write down what she said and frame it.” DJ stared after the slender figure with her blond hair swept back in a chignon rather than the usual leather clasp.

“You're fortunate to be working with someone of her caliber this early in your career.”

“I know.” She turned to look at her handsome father. “You see any things I should have done differently today?”

“Not really. Your riding is fine, and you kept your smile in place. As far as I see it, this was a judge's preference for expensive horseflesh. You're going to encounter that more and more.” He shrugged. “That's just the way of the horse show world. But you got more experience today, and one can never place too much value on that.”

DJ nodded.

“You'll get more experience when you ride for us.” Jackie joined in the conversation. “I think that's what you need now, exposure and mileage.” Brad and Jackie owned a ranch in Santa Rosa where they raised and showed world-renowned Arabians. They both stood. “You coming?”

“In a minute. I want to say good-bye to a couple of people.” DJ nodded to the group of riders from Briones who sat farther up in the stands. As she climbed up using the seats as steps, she saw thunderclouds on Amy's forehead. The others didn't look much happier.

“What's up?”

Amy and Tony leaned forward, sending spear-throwing glances over their shoulders. “You see those two guys up there?” Amy hissed, her dark eyes flashing sparks.

DJ looked up to see two men sitting a couple of rows up, both watching the class entering the ring. “Sure, what of it?”

Tony Andrada shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of our friend here. She'd just chew you up and spit you out.”

DJ had to grin. Amy
was
a true friend, that was for sure. “So what of them?”

Amy sat back and chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe I shouldn't tell you. You'll just get mad, too.”

“Amy!”

“Well …” She glanced over her shoulder again. “I heard them talking and then realized they were talking about you.”

“Me? I don't know them.” DJ sat down on the bench below her friends but facing them.

“Me neither, but they know your dad.”

“Which? Robert or Brad?”

Amy gave her a
get real
look. “Brad, of course. This is a horse show, not a construction show. Anyway, the fat one said he didn't understand why
your father
didn't give you a decent horse to ride, with all the great horses he owns.”

DJ glanced up in the stands. “Come on.”