Galloping Gold (16 page)

After five miles, the single herd thinned out and groups of two or three horses formed.

The riders and runners around Darby seemed pensive. Just like her, they were remembering the course map and planning for what lay ahead.

She spotted a rider pounding something metal into the ground. An artificial tie. She remembered Dr. Luke saying that horses had to be tied to something already on the course—a tree, an old broken gate, a hiking trail signpost—but you couldn't bring along your own.

As she glared at the guy and hoped he got caught, Darby tripped.

Watch where you're putting your feet,
she reminded herself. And then she settled into what Tyson called the “zone,” reciting his chant to herself:
The only barrier is in my brain
.

She felt hypnotized until Sugarfoot picked her out of a crowd of runners, whinnied in greeting, then turned to face the direction they'd be riding.

Tyson was nowhere in sight, but she and Sugarfoot took care of each other.

I love this,
Darby thought.

Minutes later, they reached the race's midway point and the vet check.

Cricket was all business as she examined Sugarfoot, checking his pulse and respiration. And then Dr. Luke was beside her, looking into Sugarfoot's eyes.

“Hydration's fine. Is he showing any signs of fatigue or sickness? Lameness?” he asked Darby.

“Nothing like that,” Darby said, and then, when Sugarfoot leaned against the reins, watching Samba leave the checkpoint, she added, “Just impatience, maybe.”

“We can fix that,” Dr. Luke said. “You're good to go.”

Before she turned to another horse, Cricket flashed a shaka sign.

 

Darby didn't know how it happened, but Tyson was the one riding Sugarfoot when the finish line came into sight, and as far as she could tell, he was in second place.

Her heavy legs moved her feet. Right, left, right. She tried to conserve energy by not swinging her arms. She ignored the sudden slap of her hair breaking free of its ponytail to cover her neck and back.

She expected Tyson to holler at her as another team passed the finish line, but when she finally reached Tyson and Sugarfoot, he wore a half smile.

Glancing around to see that no one else was near them, Tyson held tight to the saddle horn and reached down to grab Darby's hand.

Together he, Darby, and Sugarfoot crossed the finish line to take fourth place.

 

The postrace party was in full swing by the time Darby and Ann had cooled out Sugarfoot, showered, and changed clothes.

Darby's hair hung damp down her back and now, besides the layers of fragrant leis encircling her neck, Darby wore a red, white, and blue halter dress her mother had brought for her and insisted that she wear. It was cooler than jeans, but as she licked off mustard that had gotten on her nose from sampling a soy dog, and held a piece of her Dad's pizza in one hand and a glass of papaya-pineapple punch in the other, she had the feeling it might not be so cute by the end of the day.

For a minute Darby was alone, breathing the sweetness of pikake flowers as she gazed at the celebration.

The first thing she noticed was Kit and Cricket, who were watching the band set up. Then she saw Aunt Babe and Tutu, strolling in long white muumuus across the grass. Kimo stood beside his father as the old man showed off the stump of a finger he'd lost roping bulls to a fascinated Carrie, who still led her pony Biggy.

Then Darby saw her mother. In a shocking pink blouse and white jeans, she walked with her dad around the frame of the new house.

As a child, Darby had hoped her parents would get back together. She realized that wasn't about to happen, but she still loved seeing them at ease with one another. They were both happy in their new lives. That was enough. And it had been amazingly nice of them to set up this surprise.

At the sound of laughter, Darby looked toward the concrete pad where Dr. Luke was barbecuing. Nearby, his sisters—who'd come in second on Samba—flirted with volunteer firefighters, coaxing them to eat and make donations to the earthquake repair fund.

Suddenly Ann was beside her, whispering, “What's up, do you think?”

“Huh?” Darby asked, but then she saw Kimo leading Tyson by the arm.

Megan sidled up next to Ann. Pretending to hide
from anyone who'd give her more work, she said, “I'm off duty. Fill me in.”

Megan nodded in the direction in which they were staring.

Kimo and Tyson had almost reached George and Gemma Mookini.

“This is gonna be interesting,” Ann said.

“But it shouldn't be,” Darby insisted. “After all, they're his parents.”

“They should all just enjoy the party,” Megan agreed.

And celebrate Tyson's success,
Darby thought.

After all, that's what Jonah and Kit, Cade and all the best riders did with horses. They gave them credit for what they did right. That must work with people, too.

But there was George Mookini, standing with his arms crossed and feet spread apart like some kind of chieftain. And Gemma stood behind him, craning her neck to one side so that she could see Tyson.

Darby was a little embarrassed that she, Megan, and Ann were standing close enough to hear, but that didn't keep them from eavesdropping.

“Have your say,” George Mookini told Tyson.

For a second Tyson didn't look up at his father, and Darby wanted to run over and shake him. With his voice aimed down at the ground like that, his parents wouldn't be able to hear him no matter what he said.

But then he looked right at them.

“I'm gonna quit messing up,” Tyson said.

“I've heard that before,” George said, but his dismissive gesture stopped in midair when Tyson answered back.

“No, you haven't. I've said I'd
try
not to mess up. Now I'm telling you I won't.”

When Tyson crossed his arms, too, Darby wanted to applaud.

“Give me another chance, yeah?”

George looked at Gemma. Her shiny bowl-cut hair made a blur of nods.

“If your ancestors forgave you enough to let you finish that”—he gestured toward the hills of the racecourse—“with your life, we must do the same.”

Gemma lifted a maile lei from her neck and placed it over her son's shoulders.

“Thank the ancestors and your friends for showing you a new way,” Gemma said, kissing him on each cheek. “And for showing me how silly I've been, threatening such nice people with a lawsuit.”

“I was right, wasn't I?” Tyson teased his mother. “That horse isn't mean.”

“Just goofy, like the girl said,” Gemma joked back.

When Gemma Mookini closed her husband and son in one gigantic hug, the girls moved away.

“Fantastic!” Megan celebrated by taking off one of her own leis, whirling it around her head like a lasso, then dropping it over Ann's wild red curls. “One down, and only the insurance guy to go.”

“Not even,” Ann said, grinning.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a white business card, and reverently smoothed down one bent corner.

MELVIN XAVIER BORDER, EQUINE SPECIALIST
, it read, followed by a bunch of phone and fax numbers underneath.

“He said we passed the ‘Border' check,” Ann said with delight. “He watched the whole race, and he sure looked like it. He had grass stains all over and he'd ripped out the elbow of his shirt. He's still coming by tomorrow, but just for fun!”

The girls whirled in a spontaneous ring-around-the-rosy.

“Mekana!” Jonah's voice snapped them to a stop, but he was smiling.

And he was holding Aunty Cathy's hand.

“Y-yes?” Megan stuttered, clearly as surprised as Ann and Darby.

“For an aunt, you're not acting in a very dignified manner,” Jonah said.

“An ant?” Megan asked. She turned to Ann and Darby, arms wide in a gesture of bewilderment.

“I'm guessing my father means an aunt,” Ellen said, coming up with Tutu to stand behind Darby.

Her mother had pronounced the word
ont
, and Darby was beginning to blame her confusion on the exertion of the ride when her mother asked, “You two are getting married, yeah?”

Her grandfather and Aunty Cathy looked at each
other, and then, like two teenagers, they nodded.

“Isn't that perfect!” Ann shouted.

“I'll be your aunt instead of your sis,” Megan laughed. “And
Mom
, I can't believe it!”

“But you approve?” Aunty Cathy asked, blushing.

“Of course!” Megan said.

“And you?” Jonah asked gruffly, looking at his daughter and mother.

“Oh, Jonah, you always do what you want,” Ellen said, shaking her head. “But this is one of your better headstrong decisions.”

Tutu walked close to her son. He bent for her kiss. Next, she pressed frail hands to his cheeks.

“I named you for the man who left the whale's belly for a second chance,” Tutu said. “I know you'll make the best of this one.”

And then she kissed Aunty Cathy, too.

The whooping and hugging lasted for nearly an hour. Every time the laughter tapered off, someone else would hear the news and pass it on.

Darby felt tender and bruised from her fall and all the hugs that followed.

And, she admitted to herself, she kept thinking about Hoku. What did it mean that she was no longer a tomboy mare? That she'd chosen Kanaka Luna for her mate?

Grinning like he was host of the party, her father approached and Darby smiled back, despite her worry.

“You like it here,” he said.

“So much, Daddy!” Darby answered.

“Too bad for me,” he said, shrugging. “But your mother tells me it's not this island paradise that's hooked you.”

“It's Hoku,” Darby told him. “Come see her with me!”

“I thought you'd never ask,” her father joked.

Leaving the crowd, the food, and the swaying notes of slack-key guitars behind, Darby and her father walked past Sun House toward the downhill path.

Neither of them spoke, but Darby felt proud when her father caught his breath at the beauty of the emerald pasturelands.

This was her heritage, her home, and there was her horse.

 

Before Darby called out, Hoku saw her.

As one, Hoku and Luna threw up their heads and neighed.

Darby gathered her black hair atop her head and Hoku answered their secret signal.

“She's magnificent.”

Darby nodded, eyes and heart full as the flame-gold sorrel came to her.

But Luna used his body as a barricade. Ears back and eyes narrowed, the stallion arched his neck and pranced toward the fence, standing firm between Hoku and Darby.

“Show-off,” her father said.

Luna rose in a half-rear, blowing a high-pitched reprimand and pawing the air.

Hoku walked around him.

“He thinks he's some kind of a fire-snortin' Pegasus. But she's about to show him who's boss.”

Her father chuckled and Darby did, too. Even when the stallion rushed to cut her off, Hoku pushed past him.

Silently, Hoku moved close enough to the fence that she could extend her neck and head to reach Darby's offered hand.

“She's not afraid of you,” Darby marveled when Hoku ignored her father.

“Why should she be?” he asked, but Darby just shook her head.

With velvet lips, Hoku counted Darby's fingers.

“She's not looking for food,” Darby explained to her father.

“Of course not,” he said. “Even I can see she's telling you that you're still her favorite.”

Darby soaked up the words and the glow in Hoku's eyes, and she knew it was the truth.

I
n case anybody reads this besides me, which it's too late to tell you not to do if you've gotten this far, I know this isn't a real dictionary. For one thing, it's not all correct, because I'm just adding things as I hear them. Besides, this dictionary is just to help me remember. Even though I'm pretty self-conscious about pronouncing Hawaiian words, it seems to me if I live here (and since I'm part Hawaiian), I should at least try to say things right.

 

ali'i
—AH LEE EE—royalty, but it includes chiefs besides queens and kings and people like that

 

‘aumakua
—OW MA KOO AH—these are family
guardians from ancient times. I think ancestors are supposed to come back and look out for their family members. Our
‘aumakua
are owls and Megan's is a sea turtle.

 

chicken skin
—goose bumps

 

da kine
—DAH KYNE—“that sort of thing” or “stuff like that”

 

hanai
—HA NYE E—a foster or adopted child, like Cade is Jonah's, but I don't know if it's permanent

 

haole
—HOW LEE—a foreigner, especially a white person. I get called that, or
hapa
(half) haole, even though I'm part Hawaiian.

 

hapa
—HA PAW—half

 

hewa-hewa
—HEE VAH HEE VAH—crazy

 

hiapo
—HIGH AH PO—a firstborn child, like me, and it's apparently tradition for grandparents, if they feel like it, to just take
hiapo
to raise!

 

hoku
—HO COO—star

 

holoholo
—HOE LOW HOW LOW—a pleasure trip that could be a walk, a ride, a sail, etc.

 

honu
—HO NEW—sea turtle

 

ho'oponopono
—HOE POE NO POE NO—this is a problem-solving process. It's sort of cool, because it's a native Hawaiian way of talking out problems.

 

‘iolani
—EE OH LAWN EE—this is a hawk that brings messages from the gods, but Jonah has it painted on his trucks as an owl bursting through the clouds

 

ipo
—EE POE—sweetheart, actually short for
ku'uipo

 

kanaka
—KAH NAW KAH—man

 

kapu
—KAH POO—forbidden, a taboo

 

keiki
—KAY KEY—really, when I first heard this, I thought it sounded like a little cake! I usually hear it meaning a kid, or a child, but Megan says it can mean a calf or colt or almost any kind of young thing.

 

kupuna
—COO POO NAW—an ancestor, but it can mean a grandparent too

 

lanai
—LAH NA E—this is like a balcony or veranda. Sun House's is more like a long balcony with a view of the pastures.

 

lau hala
—LA OO HA LA—some kind of leaf in shades of brown, used to make paniolo hats like Cade's. I guess they're really expensive.

 

lei
—LAY E—necklace of flowers. I thought they were pronounced LAY, but Hawaiians add another sound. I also thought leis were sappy touristy things, but getting one is a real honor, from the right people.

 

lei niho palaoa
—LAY NEEHO PAH LAHOAH—necklace made for old-time Hawaiian royalty from braids of their own hair. It's totally
kapu
—forbidden—for anyone else to wear it.

 

luna
—LOU NUH—a boss or top guy, like Jonah's stallion

 

mahalo
—MAW HA LOW—thank you

 

malihini
—MUH LEE HEE NEE—stranger or newcomer

 

mana
—MAW NUH—this is a power you're born with. It's kind of a combination of instinct and intelligence.

 

māna
—MAH NUH—I think to say this, you just hold the
ah
sound longer in your mouth and that
makes sense.
Mana
means “knowledge you've gained from the mouths of others.”

 

menehune
—MEN AY WHO NAY—little people

 

ohia
—OH HE UH—a tree like the one next to Hoku's corral

 

pali
—PAW LEE—cliffs

 

paniolo
—PAW NEE OH LOW—cowboy or cowgirl

 

papala
—PAW PAW LUH—cool fireworks plant!

 

pau
—POW—finished, like Kimo is always asking, “You
pau
?” to see if I'm done working with Hoku or shoveling up after the horses

 

Pele
—PAY LAY—the volcano goddess. Red is her color. She's destructive with fire, but creative because she molds lava into new land. She's easily offended if you mess with things sacred to her, like the ohia tree, lehua flowers, ‘ohelo berries, and the wild horse herd on Two Sisters.

 

poi
—rhymes with “boy”—mashed taro root with the consistency of peanut butter. It's such an ancient food,
Jonah says you're supposed to assume the ancestors are there when you eat it.

 

pueo
—POO AY OH—an owl, our family guardian. The very coolest thing is that one lives in the tree next to Hoku's corral.

 

pupule
—POO POO LAY—crazy

 

tutu
—TOO TOO—great-grandmother

 

wahine
—WAH HE NEE—a lady (or women)