High Hurdles (33 page)

In her mind, DJ flashed to her backpack at home. All she really had to do tonight was read a chapter for history, and she could do that in the car. “Sure.” Then her excitement drooped. “I should ask Mom first. I thought we were having dinner at your house.”

“That was the plan. Lindy called and asked if we could put dinner off till tomorrow. Something came up at work she had to deal with right away.”

On one hand DJ thought,
Figures, her work always comes before the rest of us,
and on the other, she was thrilled to have the evening free. “Why don’t you ask her while I finish my lesson. Is Gran coming, too?”

“Yep. We’ll stop for dinner after we see the horse.” He held up one hand. “I know, I know—bring food, you’ll be starved.”

DJ grinned and blew him a kiss. “See ya.”

Her lesson with Bridget was a challenge. Bridget claimed that if you learned the finer points of jumping right the first time, it saved hours of relearning. But sometimes the first time meant weeks of drilling and redrilling.

And DJ loved every minute of it. Neither she nor Major resented the repetition. Jumping was jumping. Each moment they spent airborne, DJ felt like yelling for pure joy. One time around, she became aware of Joe watching from the sidelines, but she kept her focus on her hands, her feet, her seat, her posture, and Major. After each jump, she looked forward to the next—the height, the length, and the timing. At last, some things were becoming enough of a habit that she could concentrate on others.

“Very good.” Bridget met her at the gate when the lesson was over. “You can be proud of your granddaughter, Joe. And your horse.”

“Oh, I am. No doubt about it.” Joe stroked Major’s sweaty neck. “God gave me a gift here”—he laid a hand on DJ’s knee—“that I’ll never be able to thank Him for enough. That was some ride, kid.”

“Thanks, GJ.” DJ wanted to hug her horse, her grandfather, and even the fence post. For the first time in a while, Bridget hadn’t had to call her on concentration.

“By the way, DJ.” Bridget looked up at the rider. “Is there something you would like to tell me about Tony Andrada?”

DJ swallowed. She cleared her throat. “Ah . . . no, not really.” What was Bridget referring to? Had someone blabbed about the silent treatment? “Why?”

“Oh, a little bird told me about something going on in the barns, and I have a feeling the hand of DJ Randall is all over it.”

DJ swallowed again. She couldn’t lie.
Please, Bridget, don’t ask me any more. Especially not now with Joe here.

“I will leave it for now, but make sure no one gets hurt.”

DJ nodded.

“What was that all about?” Joe asked after Bridget left for her office.

“Tell you later.” DJ nudged Major forward. “If we’re going to Sacramento, we better get moving.”

Joe brought up the subject of Tony once they were on the road to Sacramento. DJ had already put away a soda, six chocolate chip cookies, and an apple.

She tossed the core into the garbage and wrinkled her nose, hoping that would help her think better. “Well, you’ve heard me say what a creep Tony Andrada is.”

“I gathered that he wasn’t your favorite student worker.”

“With good reason. He called Hilary a . . . ni—”

“DJ.” Gran’s gentle reminder made DJ stop midword.

“Well, that’s not the worst thing he’s called her, either. Is everyone from the South like him?”

“Darlin’, I’m from the South.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking.” DJ thought about what she’d said. “But I don’t mean you, of course. Just boys. Come on, Gran, you know what I mean.”

“I do. And to answer your question, there are some people in the South—and other places, mind you—who think people with dark skin are of less value. It’s that old slaveholder mentality. Sometimes I wonder if discrimination will ever end.” She shook her head and turned to look at DJ. “But, darlin’, I know you don’t feel that way, and if more young people can grow up colorblind like you, our world will eventually become a better place.”

“In the meantime, what have you cooked up?” Leave it to Joe to bring the subject back to DJ.

“Well, Amy and I have a plan to deal with Tony.”

Gran groaned. “Heaven help us.”

“Gr-a-n!”

“You have to admit some of your
plans
haven’t worked out quite like you hoped.” Gran’s smile let DJ know she was teasing.

“I know, but this time . . . this time it
has
to work or Hilary will move her horse to another stable. That’ll mess up her whole life.”

“And your plan?”

“To ignore Tony. No one’s supposed to talk to Tony. We pretend he isn’t even there.”

“And Hilary?”

“She doesn’t know anything about it.” DJ took a bite of the cuticle on her right pinkie as she waited out the silence in the front seat.

“So, how is it working?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t talked to Hilary lately, and the only time I see Tony is in the ring. Since he goes to a private school, his hours are different from mine.” DJ clenched her hands in her lap. Why did she always want to chew her fingernails when she was uptight? She leaned her arms on the back of the front seat. “And you know what?
Amy
thinks he’s cute!”

“So?”

“So how can anyone be cute when he talks like Tony?”

Gran chuckled. “That’s one of the many things I love about you, darlin’. You look to the inside of a person, not just the outside.”

“You know, your plan does have a sound basis.” Joe caught DJ’s eye in the rearview mirror.

“Really?”

“Sure. Ignoring bad behavior is a good way to make someone change. But to make the program really effective, you have to go one step further.”

DJ unbuckled her seat belt so she could lean on the front seat without cutting off her circulation. “I hear you.”

“You have to compliment him for doing the right thing.”

“Right. The dinosaurs will return before I catch Tony doing something good.”

Joe smiled at her. “I’m sure if you try, you’ll find a way. And you better explain this addition to your plan to the others.”

DJ thought about phrases like
a snowball’s chance in that hot place reserved for people like Tony
and
when cows have wings
, but she kept them to herself. She did need to talk to the rest of the student workers, that was for sure.

She was still thinking about what Joe and Gran had said when they turned into an entrance arch with
Denison’s Quarter Horses
painted in white across the top. Board-fenced fields lined the drive, and a barking border collie met them at the gate to the low, rambling house off the circular drive. A man donned his felt Western hat as he came down the steps toward them.

“You the fellow who wants to see my young cutting horse?” He extended a hand. “I’m Hank Denison.”

After the introductions, he showed them where to park, and they followed him down to a shiny white barn. Horses blinked and nickered as he flicked on the light. “Rambling Ranger is right over here. I kept him in tonight when you said you were coming.” He took a lead shank off a hook on the wall and led the way to the third stall on the left. A bright sorrel head with a perfect diamond between the eyes and another smaller one between flaring nostrils bobbed in greeting. The horse wuffled, his nostrils quivering as Denison snapped the lead shank onto the blue nylon halter.

“He’s sixteen hands and three years old, as I told you on the phone, so he may grow a bit more. He’ll fill out, anyway.” As he spoke, Hank led the horse out of the stall. Both front feet had white socks nearly to the knees.

DJ fell in love. She looked up at Joe. His eyes were shining, too.

The horse moved with the natural grace of good confirmation and a style that came from excellent bloodlines. When Denison trotted, the gelding followed, his hooves clopping a steady rhythm on the hard-packed dirt.

“Let’s go over to the covered arena, and I’ll saddle him up for you. Now, remember he’s only begun his training. I haven’t worked him with cattle yet.”

Joe and DJ walked around the horse, studying him from all angles as Denison saddled him. DJ couldn’t find a thing wrong. How much was the man asking? She looked up at Joe. The silly grin on his face said it all.

“I’ll take him around a few times so you can watch him. Then you can try him out.” Denison mounted as he spoke.

DJ and Joe watched without a word, sharing a glance of pure excitement. When the man returned to the rail and dismounted, he offered the reins to DJ.

“You better ride him first, GJ,” DJ whispered.

Joe nodded. He stroked the horse’s nose, then mounted when Denison handed him the reins.

DJ watched as her grandfather moved the horse through his gaits, reined him from side to side, and tried to get him to back up. Only then did Rambling Ranger balk for the first time.

“He don’t like backing too much yet, but he learns quick.” Denison rubbed the cleft in his chin with one finger.

DJ was doing her best to control her excitement. After all, when you bought something, you were supposed to be cool about it, not scream, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” like she wanted to.

“You want to ride, kid?” Joe stopped the horse in front of her.

“Sure.” DJ changed places with her grandfather. She rode the horse around the ring, doing all the same things Joe had. “You’re a dream come true, you know that?”

The horse twitched his ears, but he still didn’t want to back up. DJ made him stand and then pulled firmly on the reins. Ranger shook his head but finally he backed—one step, then two. He sighed and kept on backing up until DJ let off the pressure. She patted his neck. “Good boy.”

Rambling Ranger was perfect, but could Joe afford a horse like this?

Chapter
•
8

“You bought him? Just like that?”

“He really did.” Gran shook her head. “I knew I married a man who could make split-second decisions, and now I’ve seen him in action.” Gran patted Joe’s arm. “I’m glad for you, darlin’.”

“Why don’t we look for a horse for you while we’re here?” Joe covered her hand with his. “You have no idea what you’re missing when you can’t ride up in Briones with us.”

DJ watched several expressions flit across her grandmother’s face before a slight dip of her chin indicated she disagreed.

“But, Gran, you’ve never ridden around here. Have you ever ridden at all?” DJ asked.

“When I was younger.” Gran reached up to stroke the gelding’s nose. “I’m just glad you two can have your dreams of showing. I’ll come along to cheer you on.”

DJ and Joe swapped looks. They were going to have to work on this. If they were to become a horse family, Gran would have to join in.

“So, when can you deliver him?” Joe turned to Denison and took out his checkbook. “I need to have a barn built, but in the meantime I’ll stable him at the Briones Riding Academy where my granddaughter works and rides. The owner, Bridget Sommersby, gave me your name.”

“Day after tomorrow soon enough?” Denison led Rambling Ranger back to his stall and removed the tack.

“That’ll be just fine.”

DJ felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. Any time she’d wanted anything, there’d always been a big discussion, a plan to earn or save the money, and then usually a big “no” from her mother. Horses and horse things weren’t high on Lindy’s list of priorities, unlike school and fashionable clothing and—DJ cut off that line of thought as she rubbed down the horse’s shoulder. Ranger sure was a beauty. He and Joe looked wonderful together.

She was still bubbling when she walked in the door at home and found Lindy and Robert looking through the photo albums DJ and Gran had spent so many hours putting together.

“Mom, you won’t believe it. GJ bought his horse!” She grinned at Robert, who sat beside her mother. “You got some dad there. Wait till you see him—the horse I mean. His name is Rambling Ranger, but we’re gonna call him Ranger.” DJ didn’t take time to breathe.

“Sounds like my dad all right.” Robert stretched his hands above his head. “I better get going. Full day ahead.”

“Hey, Mom, I forgot to ask. There’s a jumping clinic coming up at Wild Horse Ranch in Napa, and Bridget thinks it would be good for me and Major to go. What do you think, can I?”

“Can you afford it?” Lindy let Robert pull her up from the sofa. She smiled up at him with one of those gooey looks DJ was coming to expect from the two of them.

“Well, I’m trying to save for a Crosby—that’s a good make of jumping saddle. I was kind of hoping maybe you could swing this.” DJ clamped her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You know the rules.” Lindy adjusted her slacks. “You can go only if you can afford the time and the money.”

“How much is it?” Robert looked from mother to daughter.

When DJ told him the amount, he reached for his wallet. “Why don’t you let me get this one?”

“No.” One word from Lindy stopped him in the act.

He turned to her, surprise written across his handsome face. “But why?”

DJ bit her tongue to keep from telling him how she felt.
Because my mother always has money for her things, but mine don’t count. Get it?

“Because
I
can’t afford it, and I’m raising my daughter to be a responsible person who earns her own way.”

Robert started to say something and stopped.

“DJ understands.”

Yeah, right! Sure I understand
. DJ felt like yelling. She had no time now to earn extra money. Other kids baby-sat. She and Amy had given pony parties for kids’ birthdays during the summer, but now her time was all taken up with school, the Academy, and home chores. Her mother was the one who didn’t understand.

Or maybe she doesn’t care
. The thought shocked DJ into continued silence.

“Well, why don’t you let this be my gift to DJ?”

DJ felt a stirring of hope.

“That’s very nice of you, but no thank you. DJ, don’t you have homework to finish?”

“No, I’m done.” DJ knew that had been the signal for her to leave the room, but instead she dug in her heels. She still might have a chance if she played it right.

DJ sneaked a peek at Robert. His smile had disappeared along with his wallet. Questions pounded in her head. What was wrong with Robert’s giving her a present? Lindy had already accepted several gifts for herself: a bracelet, a designer scarf, and a program for her computer. So why was it okay for her mother to get presents, but not her? A hangnail on DJ’s right thumb itched to be chewed off. She dug at it with her finger.

“Say good-night, DJ.”

DJ did as she was told, barely holding back from stomping up the stairs.

This was one of those nights when she wished with all her might that Gran was still living in the same house. Gran would be able to explain her mother’s actions to her—they made no sense at all to DJ. She knew she could call Gran and talk about it, but somehow the phone wasn’t the same as sitting at Gran’s feet. She
needed
Gran’s gentle hands on her hair and the smell of roses and Gran saying, “Well now, darlin’, I think we should pray about this and see what God has to say about it.”

DJ tried. “Heavenly Father, I don’t understand my mother at all. Sometimes I don’t even like her.” She stopped. She shouldn’t say such things even though she thought them a lot. But her Sunday school teacher had said God knew people’s thoughts even before they spoke them.

DJ shuddered. Some of her thoughts sure weren’t the kind she wanted God listening in on.

What was the Bible verse Gran had given her recently? She wrinkled her forehead, hoping that would make her remember. Something about God answering our prayers. She’d have to ask Gran because DJ sure needed some answers right now. She moved on to all the “blesses,” including Robert and the Double Bs. “And, God, thank you for finding Grandpa Joe such a neat horse. Amen.”

How on earth was she going to earn the money for the clinic?

Both DJ and Amy were out of breath when they spun into the Academy parking area the next afternoon. They spied Joe’s Explorer immediately.

“Is he here yet?” DJ pelted into Bridget’s office. “Where’s his stall?”

“Should I ask who ‘he’ is?” Bridget looked up from her charting with a smile. She raised a hand to cut off DJ’s questions. “Outside stall, next to Major. I figured since Joe feeds both of them in the morning, we should make it as easy as possible.”

“What do you think of him? Didn’t we do great?”

“He is everything Denison said he was. Now Joe has to decide if he will train Ranger himself or hire a trainer.” Bridget waved the girls toward the door. “Go on before you wear a hole in the floor.”

The girls dashed across the lot and jogged down the sandy barn aisle. Horses nickered on either side, and one slammed a hoof against the wall with a squeal.

When they found them, Joe had one of Ranger’s hooves propped on his knees to pick out any compacted manure and dirt. The crosstied sorrel stood quietly, showing that he’d been trained in being handled.

“He’s beautiful, Joe.” Amy and DJ stopped at the stall opening.

Joe stood up and, stroking the gelding as he walked, joined the two girls.

“I’m pretty pleased myself.” He rubbed up behind Ranger’s ears and down his neck. “He and I are going to get along just fine, aren’t we, boy?” Ranger reached his nose out to sniff the girls, who stood still for his inspection. Ears forward, he sniffed at DJ’s extended hand. She turned it over to palm a horse cookie for him.

“Now you’ve made a friend.” Joe continued to stroke the horse as he talked. “Denison said Ranger has a weakness for sugar lumps, but cookies and carrots are definitely better, right, fella?” Ranger nosed DJ for another treat.

“Have you ridden him yet?” Amy asked.

“Nope, he arrived not more than an hour ago. I figured I’d let him get accustomed to the stable first and ride tomorrow morning when the arenas aren’t taken up by you kids.” He picked up a brush and stroked down the already gleaming shoulder.

Next to them, Major nickered and tossed his head.

“He’s jealous.” Joe nodded to his former horse. “I kept telling him you’d be by pretty soon, but he didn’t believe me.”

DJ switched her attentions to the bay. Major nosed the pocket where she always kept his treat. She dug out a cookie and let him munch. “See, that wasn’t your treat I gave away. That young sprout may be getting all the attention right now, but that’s because he’s new.”

“And pretty.” Amy moved to Major’s side and stroked his dark neck.

Major whiskered DJ’s cheek and made her giggle.

“You just wait a bit, and I’ll be back to get you.” DJ gave her horse one last ear rub and stepped back. “Got work to do. Behave now.” The horse tossed his head and nodded as if he understood everything she said. “See ya, GJ.”

“You going to braid his mane and tail for the show?” Amy asked.

“No, not for the training show. But for the one in December I will. Just think, that will be our first big show. Mine and Major’s, I mean.”

“You think Joe will enter that one?”

“He could, in halter class at least. Even halter showing would give Ranger a feel for the crowds and activity.”

They stopped in the door of the barn when they heard an angry voice coming from the south side stalls.

“I don’t have to listen to you, you stupid jigaboo! My dad is going to talk to Bridget and get me assigned to someone with some real horse sense. Everyone knows niggers don’t have no sense a’tall.”

“Listen here, Tony, I have my assignments, and I do them. You have been assigned to me, and that places me in charge. Now get back there and redo that stall. We don’t allow people to pitch fresh shavings on top of dirty ones.”

“If you’re so all-fired worried about doing things right,
you
do it.”

DJ and Amy peeked around the corner just in time to see Tony shove the handle of the manure fork at Hilary. She wasn’t prepared, and it knocked her on the shoulder before she could stop it.

“I have better things to do.” Tony made a rude gesture and strode down the aisle to where his horse stood looking over the gate of its stall.

DJ debated. Should they go to Hilary, or was it better to let her friend handle this alone? In the end, she signaled Amy, and they headed back to their side of the barn.

“Well, that sure shows our plan isn’t working.” DJ slammed her hand against the wall. “How can we help Hilary?”

“Short of dumping a ton of hay on that . . . that creep. Why’d he ever choose to come here anyway?”

“Because Bridget is such a good teacher, that’s why.” DJ rubbed the palm of her hand to remove the sting of slapping it on the wood. “Why didn’t Hilary shove the handle right back at him? I would have. I’d have picked it up and bashed him over the head with it. Nobody but nobody’s ever gonna get away with calling
me
names like that. Should we tell Bridget?”

Amy shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You know what? I talked about this with Gran and Joe, and Joe said just ignoring Tony wasn’t enough. He said we need to
compliment
him when he does something right. Can you beat that?”

“Yeah, as if he’s going to do something good. Get real.” Amy picked up a grooming bucket. “I’ve got to get going, or I won’t have time to work Josh. DJ, something’s got to get better around here, or Hilary will leave—and I wouldn’t blame her a bit.”