Galloping Gold (3 page)

“Darby inherited her grandfather's touch with horses,” Ann said.

Ed must've figured out what his wife and daughter were thinking before Darby had, because he didn't give her time to react.

“Much as I'd appreciate your help, I don't think that's our solution,” Ed said firmly, but politely. “No offense, honey, but you're Ann's best friend and I don't see you doing something that would hurt her feelings. And that's what would happen when you figured out that this horse is just plain loco.”

Sugarfoot slung his head over the fence and gave a low nicker. He didn't look a bit crazy, Darby thought as Ramona reached up and let the gelding nuzzle her hand.

“Ann? Why don't you take Darby inside and help her clean up that chin. I know it's no big deal,” Ramona said when Darby started to protest. “You ranch girls are tough, but I'm a mom, and I bet
your
mom wouldn't want you to let that ground-in dirt give you some kind of infection.”

Together Ann and Darby walked toward the house, leaving Ann's parents to talk.

“I didn't want to leave, but when she put it that way…,” Darby said.

“Don't apologize any more,” Ann said. “I just had an incredible idea.”

“Then why didn't you…?” Darby gestured back
toward Ramona and Ed.

“I'm not sure they'd approve.” Ann's face turned thoughtful, and then she giggled and said, “I'm not sure
I
approve. C'mon and I'll tell you.”

 

Darby and Ann had laughed when they'd heard, late last night on the radio, that Petra the animal psychic would be doing a marathon call-in show from noon until nine.

“It'll be a distraction while I scrub this sand out of my chin,” Darby said. She faced the mirror while Ann fiddled with the radio. “I hope this heals before the luau.”

“Fourth of July,” Ann said. “I used to think it was the middle of the summer, but—”

“There!” Darby said, pointing toward the radio.

“…cat Tux was a stray, but I kept feeding him and finally he moved in, and he's totally sweet, but sometimes he just goes wild. He claws his way up the curtains! Nothing else in the house, just the curtains!”

“Tux doesn't mean to be destructive.”

“That's got to be Petra,” Ann whispered.

“He has flashbacks.”

Darby and Ann looked at each other and laughed, but the woman's dramatic voice kept them listening.

“His first home was abusive, but he escaped through a window. Now, whenever he hears raised voices, even on television, his mind returns to that stressful time
and he feels he must run away.”

“I think you're right,” the caller said. “And you know, if I just gently unhook his claws from the curtains, he settles right down.”

“Your kind touch reminds Tux where he is,” Petra explained.

A commercial came on next and Darby and Ann discussed Petra's suggestion.

“It's a good guess,” Darby said. “But I don't believe Petra can read animals' minds.”

“Especially over the phone!” Ann said, but then they both sat on Ann's bed to listen to the next caller.

“I'm a plumber, and I have a brand-new Doberman puppy. Her name's Gretel and she's just driving me nuts. Every time I come home from work, she's chewed up my shoes. Two or three at a time, and never from the same pair, it seems like.”

“Then close your closet door,” Ann mumbled, but Petra had a different approach to the man's problem.

“Is she pretending to be the dog?” Darby asked as they listened.

“I think it's called channeling,” Ann said as Petra's voice took on a very young tone with what was supposed to be a German accent.

“I hate when you go to work. Every time you leave the house, you put on shoes,
ja
? Maybe if you have no shoes, you stay home and play throwing of the ball with me.”

“Not bad,” Darby said.

“I say we call,” Ann said.

“The price is right,” Darby agreed.

“Totally free!” Ann laughed as she dialed.

The line was busy, but while Ann kept dialing, they decided that though neither of them believed Petra was reading animals' minds, she did know a lot about animals.

“I'm on hold!” Ann said finally.

“You'd better use a fake name for Sugarfoot, just in case Gemma is listening,” Darby whispered.

“Forget Gemma. What about my parents!?”

“We'll call him—” Darby began, but then Ann was waving at her to be quiet, and talking to Petra.

“Echo!” Ann hissed, and Darby rushed to turn off the radio, although she was dying to hear what Petra said.

Ann got excited and used Sugarfoot's real name as she explained how he charged people and scared them, even though he hadn't ever harmed anyone.

Ann waved wildly for Darby to sit next to her.

“She's doing it again,” Ann mouthed, and as Darby put her ear to the phone with Ann, she heard Petra channeling Sugarfoot.

“Where I grew up, I was the youngest male. If I put on a mean attitude, no one wanted to fight me. Kicks and bites hurt, so I just charged at 'em and they left me alone.”

“Okay, but—” Ann began.

“Master liked it when I scared off the big horses
and he gave me peppermints. I really like peppermints.”

“But he doesn't get peppermints now, when he charges,” Ann said logically. “He gets yelled at.”

“I know”—Petra's tone turned pouty—“but new Mistress is smart. She'll figure it out.”

“So, wait,” Darby interrupted, speaking into the receiver, “he's willing to keep trying until someone understands he gets a peppermint for that?”

As if Darby had broken the “channeling” spell, Petra said in her regular voice, “Since he likes peppermints, reward him when he
doesn't
charge. Next caller.”

Darby and Ann looked at each other.

“I don't really believe this,” Darby began.

“Me neither, but we've got to get some peppermint horse treats!” Ann said, and they hurried off to find a ride to the store.

A
nn was begging her father to drive her and Darby to the feed store when the phone rang. It stopped before anyone answered it.

“Mom's got it in the barn,” Ann said, pointing to a little panel of lights on the phone unit.

“How cool,” Darby said.

Ed had agreed to stop by the feed store for peppermint horse treats on the way to ‘Iolani Ranch when Ramona came in.

“That was Gemma,” she said, peeling off her leather gloves.

Darby deflated. This wasn't going to be good.

“All
she
wants is some kind of settlement for her ripped leather jacket,” Ramona said. “She insists she
doesn't mean to be a bad neighbor, but her boss—”

“The attorney.” Ed's voice was flat.

“I guess,” Ramona said, sighing, “told her that she's been further traumatized and can't just accept the situation as an accident.”

“Why not?” Ann asked.

“Because she
is
being a bad neighbor,” Darby said. She couldn't imagine Jonah, her mom, Aunty Cathy, or Kit demanding payment for this. They'd just chalk up the accident to the nature of the animal.

When Hoku had struck out and scarred Cade's chest the first day the filly had come ashore there was no talk of a lawsuit. Everyone knew the solution was just working with the horse.

“I made lunch. Want to take it outside?” Ed pointed at the kitchen counter where he'd put out a plate of sandwiches and bowls of carrot sticks and potato chips. “Maybe the fresh air will give us some ideas.”

While Ramona washed up, Ed led the way to a picnic table.

“Gemma's a lot more like her son than she seemed at first,” Darby muttered.

Ann stopped walking.

“Who's her son?” She looked mystified.

Darby blushed. What she'd said sounded ugly. It wasn't like her. She shouldn't have let the words escape. She wanted to erase them, but it was too late. Ann was waiting.

Suddenly Ann pushed her hair back with such
energy that her headband popped off.

“Wait. Not Tyson?”

“They do have the same last name,” Darby said. “But I'm probably just jumping to conclusions.”

“Probably not,” Ann said. “I'll ask my mom.”

“It doesn't change anything,” Darby said. “I don't know why I even said that.”

“Because he's a jerk!” Ann snapped.

“Who's a jerk?” Ramona's voice came from behind them.

“Tyson Mookini,” Ann said. “Do you think he's related to Gemma?”

“Gemma did say she had a son at Lehua High School,” Ramona said. “She didn't mention him being a jerk, but then we can't all have perfect children.”

Ann's mom gave her a hug that made Darby miss her own mother. One good thing about mothers was that they helped you put things into perspective.

As Darby talked with the Potters over lunch, she remembered that her first impression of Ann's parents was that they were tanned, middle-aged, and happy. Even though Ed's red hair was sprinkled with gray, and Ramona's was sparrow-brown, it was easy to see where Ann had gotten her unruly hair and cheerful outlook.

“I'm open to suggestions,” Ed said as they all watched Sugarfoot graze, “because I don't see any fix for this except putting him off the place. What's an
insurance company going to take for proof that Sugarfoot's bad habit's broken? We'd be safer selling him.”

“We can't sell him!” Ann said, but then her father's glare reminded her of the discussion they'd had outside, and she looked like she might slide off the bench and disappear under the table.

After that, Ann stayed quiet and shot quick glances at her mom, expecting her to take Sugarfoot's side. For a minute, Darby thought Ramona was staring down the dirt road, looking for the neighbor who'd taken Toby and Buck to swimming lessons, but Ramona was thinking.

“If we did sell him,” Ramona mused, “we'd have to be honest. And if we're honest about his charging, he won't find a good home.”

“Maybe not,” Ed said, “but we've put our hearts and souls into the Pulling Together program. We can't let one horse destroy it.”

“I wouldn't want that.” Ramona sighed so heavily, her breath puffed a potato chip off her plate.

They chuckled, but Darby guessed they were all thinking the same thing. Lots of people who took on a problem horse would try to bully it out of bad behavior. None of them wanted that for Sugarfoot.

 

An hour later they were walking into the feed store, breathing in scents of grain and leather, when Ann's father asked, “Where'd you get this sudden conviction
that peppermint treats are gonna turn that horse around?”

Before Ann conjured up an answer that didn't involve Petra the animal psychic, Cricket appeared.

“Aloha!” Cricket greeted all three of them with quick cheek kisses. As usual, her black hair was twisted into a messy bun and her eyes sparkled behind thick lenses. “What can I get for you today?”

“Peppermint horse cookies. They're going to be training treats,” Ann said. “Do you think they'd work for that?”

“Sure. And peppermints are our best-selling flavor.”

“Bag 'em up,” Ed said.

As she did, Cricket asked, “They're for a particular horse?”

As a volunteer coordinator for the local humane society, Cricket was an expert on horses in trouble. Darby could tell that they'd piqued her curiosity.

“Sugarfoot,” Ann told her.

“Your palomino pinto. The fast one, yeah?” Cricket said.

“You haven't heard what he did?” Ann asked.

“I've been working in the back by myself all day,” Cricket said. “That limits my chances for island gossip.”

Ann's father listened with folded arms as the girls explained.

“What would you do with a horse like that?” he asked Cricket.

“All kinds of training, like you're doing, and if
I
couldn't get through to him, I'd bring in a horseman with fresh eyes.”

“And if training didn't help?” Ed said.

Darby hoped Cricket would say that the right sort of training would always work, but she said, “There's a riding program for at-risk teens on Maui. Friend of mine works there and he's good. He might see something I was missing. Plus, the word's out that he wants donations of dependable horses.”

“Dependable,” Ed repeated.

“And it's just a summer program…,” Cricket said.

“We could pay to ship him over there and he might pull the same thing with the kids.” Ed grimaced.

“So, you don't just think it's where he is that's the problem,” Cricket said.

“I think it's
who
he is,” Ann confessed. “But I can't tell if charging is fun for him or just a habit he picked up where he lived before.”

Cricket took down her bun, rewound it, and then anchored it in place with a yellow pencil. “You could talk with someone at the Hapuna resort stables. They might take him.”

“I don't know…,” Darby said.

“Except for that one incident, I've never heard of
them mistreating horses,” Cricket assured her.

But Darby had seen that one incident, and she couldn't shake the image of Shan Stonerow, the man who'd once owned Hoku, abusing an Appaloosa mare named Jellybean Jewel. The only good thing to come out of that was that her friends Cade and Pauli had worked together to rescue Jewel. And after the resort managers had fired Shan Stonerow, they'd asked Cade to help smooth out their string of dude horses.

Cade would enjoy Sugarfoot's spirit, but he'd probably see that the gelding didn't have the temperament for carrying tourists around on the same trail day after day.

So Darby shook her head no. “I don't think Sugarfoot would fit in over there.”

“What about Jonah?” Cricket suggested. “Or Kit. Between them, they'd figure out why Sugarfoot charges. See if they can put him up for a while.”

Darby guessed she must have made some kind of a face, because Cricket added, “Of course, I don't mean to take anything for granted.”

“It's just that with Inky—”

“The black foal?” Cricket asked.

Darby nodded. “And with Medusa and all the cremellos…well, Jonah's feeling crowded. He's trying to thin out his herd.”

“Doesn't want another mouth to feed,” Ed said. “I hear that, but you know, maybe he wouldn't mind just
taking a look at Sugarfoot, over at our place.”

“He'll do that,” Darby said. She shouldn't be speaking for her grandfather, but she knew Jonah couldn't resist a challenge like Sugarfoot. “And he doesn't care about people's feelings,” Darby said. When Ed cleared his throat, she added, “No, that came out wrong! I just mean, you were worried that I wouldn't want to hurt Ann's feelings, so I wouldn't tell you Sugarfoot's crazy. Not that he is.”

“And, since we're on our way to ‘Iolani to drop Darby off, you can talk to Jonah today!” Ann grabbed her father's arm and bounced on her toes.

“Well, I don't know,” Ed said.

“He won't mind,” Darby promised.

“Please, Daddy!” Ann looked up at her father with pleading eyes.

Shaking his head, Ed removed his wallet from his pocket.

“You see what I put up with,” he told Cricket as he paid for the peppermints.

Cricket smiled and gave a sympathetic shake of her head as she slipped the money into the cash drawer.

But just as they turned to leave the store, Cricket gave the girls an approving wink.

 

When they arrived at the ranch, a red truck with matching trailer was parked in front of Sun House. Jonah was helping a visitor unload a strange horse.

“Who's that?” Darby asked. “And why's he bringing another horse here?”

The mare was chocolate brown and nervous. Darby got close enough to read the brass plate on the side of her leather halter. It read
BANSHEE LA BAMBA
.

“Hacienda La Bamba is a ranch in California, right, Dad?” Ann asked. When Ed Potter nodded, Ann turned to Darby. “Are you sure Jonah's not buying new stock? She looks like a Quarter Horse.”

It turned out the mare had been brought to the ranch for breeding. Uneasy in the strange surroundings, she flared her nostrils, trying to catch a scent she recognized.

“Steppin' as high as a hen on a hot griddle,” Ed said as he observed the mare.

It took both Kit and the mare's groom to lead her down to Kanaka Luna's paddock. Hoku gave a neigh, which sounded distinctly unfriendly.

“Was that your horse?” Ann asked.

Darby nodded, but she stopped feeling sorry for Banshee La Bamba when she realized what the mare's presence meant.

Cha-ching!
Darby imagined the sound of a cash register and hoped the stallion's breeding fee was enough to take a little of the load off Jonah's mind.

“Decided not to keep your word, I see,” Jonah said as he walked up and shook hands with Ed Potter.

What?
Darby's glance ping-ponged between Ed
and Jonah until her grandfather jerked his thumb toward Darby and said, “Her. You brought her back.”

“Oh, that,” Ed said, smiling.

“Some joke,” Darby grumbled.

“We might still be able to work something out,” Ed said. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Go ahead,” Jonah told him.

“I want to show you a horse.”

“Not in the market for anything that eats,” Jonah said.

“No problem. Ramona and Ann won't let me sell him. Yet.”

“You telling me you got a horse Crazy Ann can't ride?” Jonah teased.

“Oh, I can ride him,” she said.

“In fact”—Ed sounded puzzled—“anyone can ride him. He's good under saddle.”

“Except?” Jonah asked.

“He's loco. I'd like you to take a look and see what kind of loco.”

“That horse-charmer stuff,” Jonah said, looking disgusted. “I thought you knew that was just people talkin' story.”

Before Jonah could lose interest, Ann jumped in and began describing her horse.

“He's five years old. He's a Morgan-Arab cross—”

“Hot blood in those Arabs.” Jonah sounded disapproving.

“A tan and cream paint—”

“And flashy,” Jonah complained.

“Not too flashy,” Ann promised. “But what he does, see, is—”

“Excuse me.” Jonah held up a hand. “If this is a puzzle, let me figure it out.”

“You got it,” Ed told him. He rubbed his hands together, glad Jonah was intrigued.

“Just being neighborly, yeah?” Jonah emphasized. “No promises.”

Darby thought of Gemma Mookini saying she didn't want to be unneighborly. Could that help the Potters change Gemma's mind? If you took the spirit of Aloha, mixed it with the neighborliness that existed in far-flung places where people had to help each other, she might rethink her threat.

“No promises,” Ed echoed as the two men shook hands.

They both looked satisfied.

Then Jonah asked, “Where'd he come from?”

“The Stallion Station, over on Lanai'i,” Ann said.

“He's a stud then?”

“Not anymore,” Ed said.

“Hmph,” Jonah grunted. “Next weekend, maybe, if you're around, I'll drive over.”

“I hate to ask,” Ed said, “but if you came a tad earlier, you might save us a lick of trouble.”

A
lick
of trouble? Darby wondered what that meant.

“Lawyer trouble,” Ann clarified.

Jonah looked fascinated as he smoothed one side of his black mustache.

“See ya tomorrow,” he said.