Castaway Colt (6 page)

“P
retend you're riding away from me,” Megan told Darby.

“Why?”

“Just do it. Turn Navigator down that path like you're riding to Tutu's.”

Darby's thoughts darted around impatiently as she turned Navigator away from Megan and Tango.

Then Megan whistled.

Darby looked back, but the summons wasn't for her.

With lifted ears, Jill and Peach stared at Megan.

She swung her arm toward the departing Navigator.

“Walk up,” she ordered, and the dogs followed
the brown gelding until she added, “Away to me.”

The dogs trotted alongside Navigator, then crossed in front of him.

The big gelding jerked his head up in annoyance. Before Darby moved the reins, Navigator turned away from the dogs.

The Quarter Horse outweighed the dogs by hundreds of pounds. He had heavy hooves and hard muscles and could have trotted right over them, but he didn't. He moved back to Megan because the dogs told him to.

“Wow!” Darby shook her head in amazement.

“And a little colt will be easy for them,” Megan said.

Megan and Darby stopped where the foliage was sparse and a trail led to Tutu's cottage.

“Now we just have to find him,” Darby said, and she was smiling, even as she rode on alone.

 

“Let's go, boy,” Darby said.

Navigator took long strides, forcing Peach to bound along beside him. In just a minute or two, the sound of Tango's hooves, moving away, was covered by sighing waves.

Darby rode the same path she had yesterday, before her first day of school, and pushed aside the thought that the Viking was her cousin.

“It doesn't mean we have to be friends,” she muttered to Navigator.

As soon as sand began muffling the plop of Navigator's hooves, she slowed him to a walk and scanned the beach for the colt.

This was the spot where she'd first seen him. Nearby was the truck-sized rock with the tide pool on top, which still overflowed with salty bubbles.

Darby was looking past it to the ocean when Peach began growling.

“Shh,” Darby said, concentrating on something white that was bobbing on the waves. It didn't look like foam or a gull.

Navigator dropped his head and looked back at Peach.

The dog crouched, fur rising on his back, glaring at the empty path behind them.

Chills covered Darby's arms.
Chicken skin
. She tried to joke with herself by recalling the expression Kimo used for goose bumps, but Peach wasn't joking.

What did he hear? Or see? Compared to the dog, she was deaf and blind, but instinct told Darby she was being watched.

Not by the rabid pig, Darby told herself as she remembered the dangerous animal that she and Hoku had encountered in the rain forest. The pig was dead.

Not Black Lava, either. Though they were near Crimson Vale, Darby doubted the wild stallion would provoke this reaction from Peach.

Jonah had trained the dogs to handle stock gently.
To Peach, wouldn't Black Lava count as stock?

A breeze wandered through the ohia trees.

Darby stared at the forest for so long, she had to remind herself of her goal—the colt. She hadn't seen him in the forest, but rather along the shore.

Darby swiveled in the saddle. The patch of white she'd glimpsed before had vanished. She was alone with the black sand and quiet waves.

A whine made her look down at Peach. The dog had taken a few steps and looked back at her for permission.

“Alone, but I have Peach,” she said. The dog answered with a tail wag. “And Navigator, my fine horse.”

She stroked the gelding's glossy neck.

“I'm just scaring myself silly,” she told the horse, but she couldn't help remembering how Jonah had lectured her about letting Hoku keep her wild instincts.

Maybe, Darby thought, her own instincts, and not her imagination, were scaring her. What then? Should she listen to them?

Birds rose in a cloud of color and cries above the treetops.

“We're out of here,” Darby told Navigator. “What good's the money if I'm not around to use it?”

She rode at a lope to find Megan, and Peach bounded beside the horse, openmouthed and watchful.

 

Megan hadn't seen the colt. She hadn't picked up signs of Manny, or anything else dangerous, and though she told Darby she'd done the right thing by riding away from Night Digger Point Beach, Megan acted scornful, not scared of Cade's stepfather.

“He's such a jerk,” Megan said.

For a few seconds the girls watched the dogs come together in a tumbling greeting, as if they'd been apart for weeks.

Then, Megan said, “I used to have nightmares that he killed my dad.”

“Megan,” Darby said, wincing for her friend.

“I mean, I was there, and I saw the accident. I know what happened to my dad, but really? I think Manny has a thing about scaring people. He wants them to see him as a movie villain, slinking through the woods all silent and scary.”

“It works on me,” Darby said, even as another worry tried to shove its way from the back of her mind to the front. She ignored it to listen to Megan.

“Think of Jonah and Cade, and my mom, and Kimo and Kit—” Megan broke off, shaking her head. “They're all on our side, all standing behind us. And what does he have? Dee.”

“Cade's mom?” Darby asked.

“My mom calls Dee a ‘sorry excuse for a mother.'”

“I'm probably paranoid from growing up in the city,” Darby offered, but then a nagging thought emerged. “Why would Aunt Babe encourage Manny to find Stormbird?”

Megan took off her baseball cap, then put it back on, slightly repositioned, before she shrugged and said, “He would have seen it on TV, anyway, and that was the best way to get lots of people searching, or—” Megan stopped and shot a cautious glance at Darby. “I don't know Babe that well, but you know some people say the end justifies the means.”

The end would be getting Stormbird back, Darby thought. The means could be Manny.

“So, speaking of Babe, how are we going to get that reward money?” Megan reminded Darby.

Riding back to the ranch, they brainstormed ideas for how to catch Stormbird.

“That's the best one, so far,” Darby said of Megan's suggestion that they bring a nursing mare—without her foal—down to the beach.

“It could backfire. She could kick at him, or nip,” Megan mused. “But he'd be close enough, by the time the mare refused him, that the dogs could herd him home.”

Darby tried to concentrate. She mentally walked herself through the strategy for tomorrow, but she couldn't stop replaying Jonah's voice, repeating Aunt Babe's opinion of Manny.

He's violent. I don't like that about him, but he knows this island….

Darby was glad Megan was as determined as she was to capture Stormbird. Going after the colt alone just wouldn't be smart.

T
he dogs, Jill and Peach, bounded ahead of the horses. With sharp barks they circled the brown Land Rover, letting Darby and Megan know that Jonah was still working under the truck.

Bart, the young Aussie, raced up to the older dogs. He made play bows and whined to be included in their game.

Megan whistled as she rode Tango toward the tack shed. Jill and Bart followed her, but Darby was left to discipline Peach.

“Peach, no! Come back here.”

She didn't have much luck, since the orange-and-white dog had already flopped on his belly, noticed the spot where his master's jeans had pulled up above
his boots, and begun licking Jonah's leg.

I bet that tickles,
Darby thought. She tried not to laugh as Jonah's leg jiggled to escape Peach's tongue.

Then Sass trotted up, turned his blue merle head sideways, and made an up-and-down begging sound. Darby thought Sass was asking if he could join Jonah under the truck.

“Go away,” came her grandfather's voice. “I hate dogs.”

Of course he didn't, Darby thought, smiling. From her saddle she had a great view of the comedy between her grandfather and the dogs.

“I can see your horse's hooves,” Jonah said. He sounded tired and annoyed. “Unless you and Navigator want to crawl under and fix this beast, do something with those dogs.”

Peach and Sass must have heard their master's exasperation. When Darby smooched to the dogs, they abandoned Jonah and trotted on each side of Navigator as she rode to the tack shed.

Megan had already put up Tango and returned to Sun House by the time Darby unbridled her dark brown gelding, then haltered and tied him to a ring on the wooden wall.

As her hands worked on Navigator, she hummed and thought about her homework. Even though she'd miss her long weekday hours with Hoku, there was a comfort in being back in a routine. Both her English and Creative Writing teachers wanted writing sam
ples from her by tomorrow and she was pretty sure she could do a decent job for them.

Aunty Cathy's voice disrupted Darby's thoughts, but Megan's mother was talking to Jonah.

She came from the house holding the telephone, then squatted next to the truck.

“It must be pretty important,” Darby told Navigator.

After all, Aunty Cathy had been the one to tell her and Megan they should avoid Jonah.

Still watching the two adults, Darby eased back the leather from the buckle's tongue and released Navigator's cinch.

Darby stood on tiptoe, grabbed the saddle front and back, and hauled it off. The saddle blankets came with it and dropped over her boots. Darby tripped, but didn't fall.

She lost track of her grandfather and Cathy as she remembered how she'd almost fallen earlier today, going into the Lehua High gym.

“I don't like being clumsy,” she whispered to Navigator.

Maybe she was still learning to walk in boots, Darby thought, looking down at the scuffed reddish pair she'd decided to wear for chores.

She wanted to keep her new boots clean and smooth.

For a few seconds, Darby weighed the possibility of not wearing her boots to school tomorrow. Most
everyone wore slippers—what she'd called flip-flops back in California—or sneakers.

Then, thinking of Ann, Darby felt stubborn. In a good way.

Darby loved her new boots, and since they were part of who she was in Hawaii, she was absolutely going to wear them whenever she felt like it.

“And I'll get used to walking in them,” Darby said, brushing the sweat marks from Navigator's black-coffee coat.

When she'd finished, she realized Aunty Cathy was still beside the truck.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Darby couldn't not investigate. She approached on tiptoe, but Aunty Cathy noticed her.

As Aunty Cathy pushed her messy brown-blond hair away from her eyes, Darby realized that Jonah must still be on the phone, under the truck.

Cathy held her index finger against her lips in a shushing motion before she mouthed the name,
Babe.

Darby was surprised, but she was pretty sure she hadn't made a sound when Jonah yelled, “What!”

It sounded as if he sat up, or tried to, and hit his head on the underside of the truck.

Darby winced.

Aunty Cathy stood. She made a “he's all yours” gesture and rushed away, but Peach took her place next to Darby for just seconds before he crawled under the car and Darby heard him licking her
grandfather again.

“Not my neck,” Jonah moaned. “Can't you just let me die in peace?”

Darby smothered her giggle, but Jonah shouted, “I'm talking to you!”

“Me?”

In response, Jonah threw the phone out from under the truck.

“Put that in the trough, will you?”

Guessing that she'd misunderstood, Darby leaned over and peered under the truck.

“What?” she asked her grandfather.

The space in which he was wedged looked tight and dark as a coffin.

“What happened to you?” he yelled.

“Me? Nothing.”

“You didn't hear when I told you to throw that blasted phone in the horses' trough.”

Darby walked away, but she decided to carry the phone back into the house instead of following Jonah's orders.

She struggled out of her boots and headed to the kitchen, where Aunty Cathy waited with raised eyebrows.

Darby hung up the phone.

“He told me to throw it into the horse trough.”

“When he's talking to Babe, he's not always…” Aunty Cathy hesitated.

“Rational?” Darby suggested.

“Levelheaded,” Cathy substituted.

Just then, Jonah came into the house. He shucked off his boots. Clothes dirty and hands greasy, he frowned at them.

No one likes to be gossiped about,
Darby thought.
Not even a grandfather.

Still, when Aunty Cathy spoke, she didn't sound apologetic.

“I know going along with one of Babe's ideas grates on your nerves.”

“Down to the bone,” Jonah agreed.

“Even if it is a
good
idea.”

“It's not. Think of the cost.”

“She'd pay for guest insurance and provide their transportation over here,” Cathy persisted.

“I don't raise dude horses.”

“It's something to think about,” Aunty Cathy said. She took a clean apron from a drawer and shook it out. Putting it on, she faced away from them, and Darby thought the conversation was finished.

But Jonah wasn't satisfied with the end of their discussion.

“Do you think Kit came all the way from Nevada and signed on to be a dude wrangler?” Jonah asked. “And what about Cade? That boy's set his heart on being a paniolo.”

For a full minute, Aunty Cathy didn't turn around. Her hands appeared behind her back and tied her apron strings with a definite jerk. But that
was the only sign she showed of irritation until she faced Jonah.

“Did I sign on to do this?” She gestured at the kitchen. “No, I was just a paniolo's wife who kept your ranch accounts for a little extra money. But I don't want to move to Honolulu or return to the mainland so I can be a travel agent again. I don't want that life for Megan or—” Cathy stopped and took a breath.

“Jonah, I love this ranch—just like Cade and Kit do. I'm willing to do what it takes to keep it afloat, and I bet they are, too.”

Me too,
Darby thought, but this was no time to chime in. This discussion, or argument, or whatever it was had all kinds of undercurrents she didn't understand. She wasn't going to help by getting involved, so she backed out of the kitchen.

Neither Cathy nor Jonah noticed her leave, and though Darby meant to go to her room and start her homework, she went outside instead.

Darby turned the corner of Sun House and climbed the white iron staircase that reminded her of a city fire escape because it rose up the outside wall of the house to the apartment above.

Pip, the Katos' dandelion puff of a dog, yapped at the approach of company. Megan had already scooped up her dog and opened the door when Darby reached the top step.

“Hi,” Darby said. She leaned over to look into Pip's
shaggy face and a rose-petal tongue licked her nose.

“Come in,” Megan said, gesturing with the dog before she set Pip down and closed the screen door.

Megan must have been doing homework. A yellow pencil had been poked through her thick cherry Coke–colored hair, and a clutter of textbooks and notebooks shared the white wicker couch with Pip and a pile of tropical print pillows.

“Are they fighting?” Megan asked, pointing to the floor of the apartment.

“Not exactly,” Darby said. “Or if they are, it's not the kind of fighting I recognize.”

Darby tried to explain what she'd heard of Babe's suggestion. Megan brushed her words aside.

“Don't even try to figure it out,” Megan said as she poured them both some sun tea. “It's not worth it.”

Every time Darby came into the upstairs apartment, she loved it. Perched atop Sun House, it felt like a tree house.

Vintage ukuleles hung on one wall and their polished wood made them look like art. Hula dolls positioned on a shelf between flowerpots danced in a breeze that played music from wind chimes.

Darby didn't look at the desk in the corner. It held some things of her mother's. She wanted to look through them for clues to the battle with Jonah that had kept her mother from returning to her Hawaiian home.

Wouldn't that be an invasion of her mother's pri
vacy? Not if she asked permission, but Darby didn't have the nerve to do that.

Until you do,
she lectured herself,
you'll just have to live with the curiosity
.

“Hold these,” Megan said, and once Darby held both glasses of iced tea, Megan shoved her school-work to the floor, clearing room for them both to sit on the couch.

“I've been thinking about our plan to catch the colt,” Megan said when they were settled. “I've come up with an idea, and we just can't wait.”

“Okay,” Darby said.

“Do you know Kimo and Cade are out riding the ranch borders right now, keeping weird people from wandering onto Jonah's property?”

“Already?” Darby asked.

“One guy Kimo ran across this morning was sitting in your little rain-forest shelter with a stun gun,” Megan said, and Darby gasped.

“You're right,” Darby said. “Even if we didn't want the money—”

“Which we do,” Megan put in.

“Sure, but we've got to keep that little colt safe.” Darby leaned against the back of the couch. She closed her eyes, thinking. “You have practice from two thirty until four, right? And since your mom doesn't want to drive back and forth—and I don't blame her—I'm stuck there until four, too, and…”

“Do you remember the part where I said I had a
plan?” Megan asked, then took a long sip of her drink.

“What is it?”

“When we get home, it will be about five o'clock—”

“And it will be dark by seven, so that doesn't give us much time, and Jonah—” Darby broke off when she saw Megan staring at her over the brim of her glass. “I just can't get in trouble again. What if he sends me home to my dad? He could do that, you know.”

“Please.”
Megan's tone implied she was insulted.

“Sorry,” Darby apologized. “Go ahead.”

“So, even though we'll get a late start, we'll bring a snack with us, and a nursing mare, and good old Owl Eyes.”

Totally bewildered, Darby reviewed her memories for the last month, trying to remember who Megan meant.

“It means we'll have to split the money three ways,” Megan said.

Darby nodded, then waited for the puzzle pieces of information to fit together, but they refused.

At last, Darby had to ask, “Who or what is good old Owl Eyes?”