High Hurdles Collection Two (64 page)

After he'd handed out all the pieces and identified which ones he thought might sell in the show, he came over to where DJ and Gran were glazing their last pieces to be fired later and picked up when done.

“You know, DJ, you're about the youngest student I've had.” He studied her choice of glazes and nodded. “For one so young you have a great deal of patience and a good eye for form. Your grandmother says you are an exceptional artist, mostly with pencil.”

“She's prejudiced.” DJ studied the bowl in front of her. “Guess this could make a good dog dish if it doesn't turn out like I want.”

“What if you added an overglaze that drips down the sides just a bit?”

DJ did as he suggested and wanted to clap her hands for joy. She didn't think she'd use it for a dog dish after all.

DJ glanced up at him. “Thank you.” As he went on to the next student, what he had said at first finally sank into her mind. Mr. Charles had given her a compliment, a really good compliment.

And she'd been so focused on what she was doing, she'd almost missed it. Ah well, maybe she'd learned something about focus after all.

Now if she could just apply such intense concentration to Herndon.

But I do
, she said to herself.
I really do
.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” Gran said when they returned to the car after class.

DJ gave a hop and a skip. When she told Gran what Mr. Charles had said, Gran nodded.

“I thought he was a good teacher, but now I know he's an exceptional one.”

DJ stopped in the motion of opening the car door. “Why?”

“Because he recognized great talent in the making, that's why.” Gran winked and slid into her seat.

“Gr-a-a-n.”

“You hungry?” Gran asked as they turned onto Contra Costa Boulevard.

“Starved.”

“Good. So am I. I'll call Joe and tell him we're stopping for lunch, then you can call your mother.” Gran reached for the cell phone plugged into the cigarette lighter. “On second thought, you call Joe. I hate to use the phone while I'm driving.”

DJ made the phone calls and hung up. “We can't be too long. Shawna is grooming Major, and then they're going to lunge him. I promised I'd be there to watch her ride this first time.”

“Fast food it is. Take your pick; there's about every kind imaginable along this strip.”

“Mexican.”

By the time they ate and arrived back at Gran's, Joe and Shawna were just saddling Major. DJ got out of the car and whistled. Major answered her with a whinny and tossed his head.

“Easy, fella.” DJ trotted out to the pasture gate on the other side of the garage. “Sorry, Shawna. I hope he didn't break your eardrums.” Major shook his head and nosed her pockets, then looked at her like something was wrong. He snuffled again and nudged her with his nose.

“Sorry, old man, but I just came from class. I didn't need carrots there.” She stroked his nose and rubbed up around his ears, turning so he could drape his head over her shoulder. “He likes to be petted like this. This is his favorite spot.” DJ showed Shawna the spot inside his ears, almost at the tip. “Feel that little nub?”

Shawna nodded. “I never knew that before. He sure does like horse cookies, though. Dad says we ought to buy stock in the feed company.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a couple of large crumbs. “Here.” She dribbled them into DJ's hand. “Now you have something for him.”

Major whiskered her hand for more and lipped a trail up her arm.

“Eww, horse slobber. Thanks a bunch.” DJ rubbed it off on his neck. “You ready to ride, old man?” Major blew in her face and rubbed his forehead on the front of her T-shirt. She petted him a bit more, then looked at Shawna. “You ready?”

“Am I ever.”

DJ checked the saddle girth and turned to her cousin. “Up you go, then.”

Shawna gathered her reins and, taking hold of the pommel and cantle of the saddle, put her foot in the stirrup and swung aboard. Major turned to sniff her boot, then looked at DJ as if to say, “What are you doing on the ground? I thought you mounted.”

DJ swallowed quick and blinked more than once. Major was no longer her horse. He belonged to Shawna now and had to start becoming her friend. She stepped back. “Are your stirrups all right?”

Shawna rose in the saddle. “Uh-huh.”

“Good, then just walk him around the fence line.”

Major looked at her one more time before responding to Shawna's signal, then walked out like he'd never been injured at all, his stride as free-swinging as ever.

Maybe I gave up on him too soon
. The thought felt like an arrow in her heart.

“You did the right thing.” Joe came to stand beside her.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” She blinked back the tears that burned behind her eyes.

“Your face is easier to read than a book—with big print.” Joe laid a hand on her shoulder. “He can't jump again. The strain might cripple him permanently. You know how many times that shoulder heated up on you. You need a horse that can go where you want to go, and Herndon can.”

“I know, but Major … Major is really special.”

“You think I don't know that? He was my horse first, remember. For six years he carried me about the streets of San Francisco. I know what a trooper he is, and if I'd had to sell him to someone I didn't know or leave him with the police force, why …” Joe shook his head. “That doesn't bear thinking about.”

“Thanks, GJ.” DJ stepped closer to the fence. “Come on, Shawna, don't let him go to sleep on you. Shorten your reins and squeeze with your legs.” After they'd gone a few more paces, she added, “That's right.”

Shawna rode Major around the field several times, her smile about to split her face. “Isn't he awesome?” She stopped in front of DJ and Joe.

“He sure is.” DJ stroked the white blaze on Major's face. “But that's probably enough for this first time. Ride him only at a walk each day, and after a week, if there is no heat in that shoulder, you can trot him.”

While Shawna dismounted, Joe whispered in DJ's ear, “She might just as well move in with us, much as she's here. Major hasn't been brushed this much since you first got him.”

DJ nodded. “Good. That's the way it should be.” She explored Major's injured shoulder with gentle fingers but found no sign of heat or swelling. “I better get on home or the Double Bs will be out looking for me. Today Bobby's riding lesson is first. They take turns, and I better not forget which day is which or I'm in deep trouble.”

“Not that they wouldn't let you know.” Joe swung the gate shut behind Major as Shawna led him back to his stall.

“At the top of their lungs. See ya later.” DJ jogged out the driveway and up the road to her house. With only three houses in between, it wasn't far enough to even make her puff. She continued on through the silent house to the backyard, where she realized the shrieking was coming from the barn. Even Queenie wasn't around. DJ let herself out through the redwood gate and strolled down the path to the four-stall barn Robert had built. It opened onto a fenced pasture with more grass than one pony could keep grazed down. As it was, General had put on weight, but with the boys riding more, DJ knew that would wear off.

She turned the corner of the barn to see her mother dodging spray from the hose held by two laughing twin boys. Lindy's hair hung in wet strings, and her T-shirt clung to her body as she dove for the boys. She tickled them until they dropped the hose and ran off, Lindy in hot pursuit until she was jerked to a stop by the end of the hose. Queenie leaped and barked after the boys until they fell giggling in the knee-deep grass.

General stood over at the fence line, watching the crazy humans like a spectator at a ball game.

“Hi.” DJ strolled out to where her mother was taking a drink from the hose.

“Hi, yourself. How was class?” Lindy pushed her hair back behind one ear.

“Great. Mr. Charles said I had a good eye for form and worked well with clay.”

“Wow! That's neat.”

The boys jumped in place and waved hands at their mother, coming closer one step at a time.

Lindy brandished the hose at them, and they ran backward till they fell down again. Gran could probably hear their screams and laughing all the way over at her house. “You look hot.”

“Sure. It's hot out, and I ran home so I could be here for the boys' lessons.”

“Ah.” Lindy got a gleam in her eye and glanced down at the hose in her hand.

“Oh no, don't you do it.” DJ backpedaled but not nearly fast enough. Like a snake striking, Lindy pointed the hose at DJ, thumbing the end of it so the spray followed the retreating girl.

“M-o-t-h-e-r!”

“Get DJ, get her again!” one of the twins squealed.

With a dive, DJ cranked the hose bib and shut the water off. She shook the water from her hair and backhanded the streams running down her face and onto her shirt. She pulled the shirt out from her body, all the while shaking her head. “I can't believe this. Drowned by my own mother.”

The boys ran to her side, laughing up at her. “You're wet.”

“You're all wet,” said the other.

“We were giving General a bath.”

“Looks to me like you are wetter than the horse.” Now that they mentioned it, DJ noticed the pony's mane hung in damp strings. “And so is Queenie.” DJ looked again at her mother. Shaking her head was getting to be a habit in regard to her used-to-be perfectly groomed and reserved mother. “And me.”

“Now I know that the tales you used to tell about water fights on the wash rack are all true.” Lindy dug in her pocket and pulled out a scrunchie. Smoothing her hair back from her face, she bound it in back and took in a deep breath. “They say that laughing is one of the best forms of exercise, and I tell you, we got our share in today.” She gathered the boys to her sides and shrugged. “Must be good for the baby, don't you think?”

“I guess. You two go on up and put on dry pants so you don't stick to the saddle, okay? I'll get General tacked up.”

The boys ran to the house yelling “Race you” and “I won” and “No, I did.”

Lindy rolled her eyes. “Wish I could bottle all that energy. We'd be wealthy beyond measure.” She strolled with DJ out to General and took hold of his halter. “He sure is a good-natured creature, not like I'd heard ponies were at all.”

“People tend to think all ponies are like the bad-tempered, stubborn Shetlands. General has enough Arab in him to be more like a horse. Welsh ponies have a good disposition, too. Besides, he's been well trained.” DJ took a lead shank from a nail on the wall and snapped it to General's halter. She headed into the barn for the tack and a grooming bucket, returning moments later.

“Here.” She handed her mother a brush and a rubber curry. “You want to learn how to groom him?”

“I guess.” Lindy looked at the equipment in her hands. “Why do I need two?”

“You have two hands. You can work much faster and more effectively with both tools.” DJ took them back and slipped her hands under the straps. “Like this.” She began running the rubber curry down the pony's shoulder, followed by the brush. “You do that, and I'll get the knots out of his tail.”

By the time the boys returned, the pony was groomed and tacked up.

“Maybe we should let Mom ride first.” DJ looked down at the boys, whose eyes went round as silver dollars.

“Mommy knows how to ride?”

Lindy backed away, making shooing motions with her hands. “Huhuh, not me. I wash and groom, but you guys do the riding.”

DJ studied her mother. “You might like it, you know. We could put you up on a nice gentle horse. Rob—uh … Dad said he thinks he'd like to learn. Joe's stories of our rides up in Briones got him hooked.”

Lindy continued shaking her head as she settled into the lawn chair in the shade of the barn. “Thanks anyway, but I'll watch. Every good show needs a spectator or two. Gran and I'll fill that role.”

“Gran is thinking of riding.” DJ kept the conversation going as she checked the girth once more. Like many horses, General had a tendency to suck in an extra breath when the saddle went on. DJ tightened the cinch another notch and led the pony over to the mounting block Robert had built for them. She motioned for Bobby to come stand beside her. She could finally tell them apart—most of the time.

“Okay, now tell me what you are going to do first.”

“Put my foot in the stirrup and mount.”

“You better get up on the block first, okay?” DJ held the reins in one hand, prepared to give him a boost with the other if needed. Bobby reached up to grasp the saddle, then put his foot in the stirrup and swung up like he'd been mounting horses for years rather than weeks.

“Good job.” She handed him the reins. “Now get set.”

The little boy was concentrating so hard that a frown deepened between his eyebrows. The helmet slipped slightly forward. He raised his chin, straightened his back, and looked to DJ. “Ready.”

“Heels down.” She studied his posture. “Are your reins even?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, walk him forward in a big circle like we did before.”

After Bobby, Billy did almost as well except for his concentration. He liked looking at the scenery more.

“You are so good with them,” Lindy said when they all meandered up to the house again, General now contentedly grazing back in his pasture.

“Thanks. They sure learn fast.” DJ sank into one of the cushioned green iron lawn chairs now shaded by the green-and-white striped umbrella.

“You thirsty?” Maria set a tray of glasses and a pitcher of pink lemonade on the table. “Cookies in a minute. Still in oven.”

“You baked cookies on a hot day like today?” Lindy leaned back against the recliner.