Galloping Gold (6 page)

He'd been tiny then, and fit tidily in her arms, but now he was about half the size of an Australian shepherd.

Darby knew that no matter how big he got, she would feel protective of Pigolo. She was 98 percent sure Jonah had been joking all the times he'd referred to cooking Pigolo for the Fourth of July luau, but she'd still be really happy to wake up on July fifth and see his squint-eyed face and twirly tail.

“We're just saying hi,” she told Pigolo. “You can go back in the shade now.”

Pink skin showed through his coarse black-and-white hair, and Darby was afraid he'd get sunburned.

Hoku watched the pig move up and down his fence. The filly's ears were backcast and her hindquarters shifted irritably.

“You are
not
going to kick him,” she scolded Hoku. “He's not wild. He's our friend.”

Hoku disagreed in a low rumble. When Pigolo lifted his snout, he looked like he was smiling up at her.

“See?” Darby said, and then she whispered, “You have too many opinions for a horse!”

Then something made Hoku tense up.

She backed, then pivoted away from the fence.

Darby placed a comforting hand on the filly's mane and gazed around. She didn't see anything that should
have bothered Hoku. The construction guys were packing away their tools. Kimo was riding in from the direction of the fold on Baxter.

Maybe there'd been a scent on the breeze, Darby thought.

Francie's bell tinkled and Jonah shouted “No!” from the tack shed.

From inside the office, Aunty Cathy called, “Francie!”

Francie the goat had learned to lean against her tie rope and saw back and forth until the rope frayed through and broke. She loved the freedom of escape and the fun of having everyone chase her.

Megan's solution had been to bell the goat's collar and shout reprimands each time they heard the frenzied tinkling of her pulling.

Darby wasn't sure it was working, but she knew Francie wouldn't be so mischievous if she knew
she'd
been mentioned as a possible Fourth of July dinner.

Darby urged Hoku toward the goat. Hoku's head stayed high and her ears stood in starched points as they approached.

“Loosen up, baby,” Darby told Hoku. “If Jonah comes out of the tack shed, you need to show him what a happy horse you are, even if you're carrying a saddle for the very first time.”

When Hoku swung her head around toward the new house, Darby looked again.

“You know Baxter,” she reminded Hoku.

Kimo had stopped the grulla cow pony next to the construction guys. He leaned forward to catch whatever the tall man was saying. And then Darby felt as uneasy as her horse did.

The tall man was pointing directly at her.

“S
he's okay with that saddle, yeah?” Jonah asked, and there was approval in his voice.

From Jonah the comment amounted to a standing ovation for Hoku and Darby.

Darby pulled her gaze away from the carpenter and grinned. “No bucking or anything. Even when we met up with Cade and Pauli on the switchbacks, no problem.”

Jonah stayed about ten feet away, but Hoku's edginess was building.

“She's had enough,” Jonah observed. “Don't take her down by Medusa and her brood. She'll have a breakdown. Put her back in the pasture, then we're going over to the Potters' place.”

“Already?” Darby asked. She'd expected to go tomorrow at the earliest.

“Cook's night off.” Jonah gestured toward the ranch office, where Aunty Cathy was working. “Ramona invited us for dinner if we'll bring that boy Patrick along.”

“Great!” Darby said.

Patrick Zink was one of her best friends. He was also one of the smartest. He could probably come up with an idea to save Sugarfoot if his accident-prone nature didn't land him in the hospital again.

Happy to be unsaddled, Hoku trotted into the broodmare pasture and rolled, then returned to Darby.

“This is much better, isn't it, pretty girl?” Darby asked her horse.

They'd missed each other when Hoku thought she was being neglected. Darby had been busy with school, Snowfire, Black Lava and his herd, and the sick pony Honi. And though her thoughts were always with Hoku, the horse had no way of knowing.

“And I have one little surprise. Ann sent it for you.” Darby worked her fingers into her jeans pocket and retrieved the peppermint horse treat.

Hoku lipped it off her palm, gave a single crunch, then swallowed.

Just as Darby turned to leave, Koko and Blue Ginger raced by. The mares were playing tag, nipping at one another's flanks each time they got within range, and Hoku joined in.

Darby lifted the saddle, sheepskin pad, halter, and lead rope off the grass, feeling contented as she carried them up the path to Sun House.

Things are going to be okay
, she thought. Jonah will diagnose Sugarfoot within minutes and the insurance company will accept his assessment as proof that Sugarfoot can be cured, and the Potters' Pulling Together program will go on just as smoothly as it had before.

Darby realized her satisfying scenario left out Gemma and whatever she decided to do, but she'd worry about that later.

The gear in her arms was starting to feel heavy and she dreaded hauling it all the way back to the tack room, so she was pleased when she reached the top of the path and found Jonah's brown Land Rover right there idling, waiting for her.

As always, Darby appreciated the pale owl painted on the truck. The bird soared over the turquoise lettering that spelled out ‘Iolani Ranch.

She arranged the tack in the vehicle's cargo area, leaving the backseat for Patrick and his crutches, then climbed into the front next to Jonah and fastened her seat belt. Every surface of Jonah's truck was shiny and smelled of the coconut oil polish he kept in a niche between the seats.

Darby leaned back and closed her eyes as Jonah steered the Land Rover slowly away from the path. It felt like days, not hours, since she'd seen Sugarfoot, a whirlwind of cream and gold, zoom toward the fence
and frighten Gemma into falling.

Jonah turned the Land Rover left, onto the frontage road they shared with the Zinks' property.

Darby looked at the truck's dashboard clock. Eight hours, she thought, since Mrs. Mookini had been scheduled for a ten
A.M
. session.

In eight hours, Darby had been miserable with guilt, then giddy with possibilities after hearing Petra the pet psychic, frustrated with chores, and singing with pride for her horse's first day under saddle. When you lived on a ranch, Darby decided, you squeezed a lot of living into eight hours. And that was the way she liked it.

“I'm getting hungry,” Darby admitted as they drove over a cattle guard.

“Good thing.” Jonah leaned forward with his chest almost touching the steering wheel as he drove. “Ed promised to show me some real Nevada cowboy cookin'.”

Tall ohia trees stood side by side, shading the left side of the road. They were almost to Patrick's house.

“Ed said he'll make me the biggest, baddest chicken-fried steak I ever ate,” Jonah said.

“That's my dad's favorite food.” Darby felt a stab of loneliness.

“Never met 'im,” Jonah said.

“I wish he could come to the luau,” Darby said, daydreaming of introducing her father to Hoku, Megan, Ann, and everyone else. “Maybe I'll invite him to come
visit”—Darby glanced at Jonah to gauge his reaction—“before my mom moves back here.”

Jonah didn't answer, but then, she hadn't really asked a question.

Jonah had never met his son-in-law. He hadn't even met his only grandchild—her—until thirteen years after her birth. It was kind of sad, that a fight between a father and his daughter could go on so long.

Like it had tentacles,
she mused, and then, as Jonah turned left toward the Zinks' driveway, she saw movement in the shade of the lehua trees.

In an instant, she saw Patrick's white pith helmet. She wished Jonah would slow down. Patrick was out of his walking cast and just on crutches and he was trying to hop out of the way. But he couldn't move too fast. Maybe not fast enough! Jonah would hit him if he—

“Watch out!” Darby yelled.

Jonah slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel to avoid Patrick.

“Killed the engine,” Jonah said, but his hands shook as he restarted the car. He looked at Darby to ask, “He's okay, yeah?”

“Sure,” Darby said, but her throat was so tight she barely managed it. If Patrick hadn't used his crutches like a pole vaulter used a pole, Jonah would have run over him.

She remembered thinking her first day on the island, when Jonah was driving with her to the docks
to get Hoku, that Jonah wasn't a bad driver, but he was jerky.

Now that she knew Jonah had poor peripheral vision and had trouble seeing in low light due to an inherited disease, she wondered if that caused his uncertain driving.

“Let it go,” Jonah snapped, and Darby realized that her hand had closed around the charm on her necklace. It was a winged gold heart the size of Darby's little fingernail, and she had no memory of grabbing it.

Darby opened her door. “Sorry!” she called to Patrick as she got out and opened the back door for him.

“I could drive this road blindfolded,” Jonah muttered.

“I know,” Darby said, but he couldn't have seen Patrick and still come so close to him. “Here, I'll take those.”

As Darby took Patrick's crutches, he leaned over and gave her a traditional Hawaiian greeting, kissing each of her cheeks before he clambered into the backseat.

To be fair, Darby told herself, she didn't know how to drive. Maybe Jonah's mistake was one that could happen to anybody. But she didn't think so.

“Hi, Mr. Kealoha,” Patrick greeted Jonah. When Jonah cleared his throat to speak, Patrick said, “Don't worry about it. I'm used to near misses.”

“How's the leg? You going to be working for my
upstart sister anytime soon?” Jonah asked.

Patrick had “degloved”—peeled back the skin on—one of his legs in an accident in the rain forest a month ago. Now he rolled on the backseat and bicycle-pedaled his legs in the air.

“Whatever you've been doing, it looks like it's working.” Darby tried to focus on Patrick's elation, not Jonah's failing eyesight.

“My doctor says I'll be able to work at the resort in time for the August polo match,” he said in a fluttering voice. “You know, when Philippe comes home.”

“Ann called and asked if Sugarfoot could hide out at my place,” Patrick announced. “I told her not unless I could see him in action. Of course,” he confided, “that was a fabrication. I would do anything for a friend. I'm loyal to a fault, my father claims, although I can't think what he bases that on. Until recently, Mistwalker was my only friend.”

“I'm not real hopeful we'll change this horse,” Jonah said. He'd turned the Land Rover around and was looking both ways before turning onto the highway, even though there wasn't another vehicle in sight. “If he's too much for Wild Ann to handle, the beast is probably beyond breaking.”

With a burst of acceleration that snapped both passengers' heads back, Jonah drove onto the highway. Even though the Potters' place wasn't too far away, Darby crossed her fingers for luck.

After they'd been driving for five minutes, Darby
saw her grandfather's shoulders lower. He'd relaxed. Maybe he could see better now.

“You know what we're having for our Fourth of July barbecue, Patrick?”

Darby moaned as her grandfather had known she would.

“No, sir.”

“Kalua pork.”

“Yum,” Patrick said.

“
Not
yum,” Darby said.

“You don't like it?” Patrick asked.

Darby swiveled in her seat and told him, “Not when it's made from a pet.”

“You can't possibly be speaking of Pigolo.” Patrick sounded horrified.

“See?” Darby demanded. “Besides, he's too young for…that.”

“Never heard of suckling pig where you come from?” Jonah teased.

“Why, the very idea turns my stomach,” Patrick said.

“Then I guess we won't invite you,” Jonah said.

“Wait, Mr. Kealoha. Let me change your mind with a few little-known facts about our porcine cousins.”

“Go ahead, but I'm no cousin to a dirty pig,” Jonah told him.

“Actually, swine—given a choice—are not dirty. They have no sweat glands. That's the only reason they roll in mud. If there's clean water around, they'd
rather swim. And all pigs keep their”—Patrick cleared his throat—“toilets far from where they eat. Why, newborn piglets will leave their birth nest and totter some distance to relieve themselves.”

Jonah was smiling, but Patrick was behind him, so he couldn't see that Jonah was struggling not to laugh.

“My mind's not changed,” Jonah said.

“Perhaps it would interest you to know that pigs are the fourth most intelligent animal in our universe—tested by human standards.”

“What's smarter?” Darby asked. “Monkeys, horses, or dogs?”

Patrick shook his head. “Chimpanzees, dolphins, and elephants. By the age of two weeks, a piglet living with humans has not only learned its name, it will answer to it.

“And they're really quite affectionate. They love sleeping in close contact with other members of their—”

“We're here,” Darby said.

“I see it,” Jonah said as the Land Rover slowed.

“You'll have something to do besides torment us,” Darby said, but her grandfather didn't show even a hint of a smile.

 

Ann and her mother waved as Jonah parked the Land Rover next to the house. They stood outside the pinto pasture. In just a few minutes, Darby, Patrick, and Jonah had joined them.

“Aloha,” called Ramona. “Ed's inside making dinner.”

“I can smell it from here,” Jonah growled appreciatively and patted his stomach.

“He thought you might want to get a preview of our bad boy before we sat down to eat.”

“Suits me,” Jonah said.

“This is really exciting!” Patrick said. “I've hardly been off the ranch since my mishap, and a puzzle like Sugarfoot is just what my stagnant brain needs.”

“It's good to see you, too,” Ann said, giving him a quick hug.

“Good-lookin' horse,” Jonah said, and then added, “For a paint.”

“He looks absolutely serene,” Patrick observed.

“Doesn't he?” Ann asked.

Sugarfoot grazed between Smudge and Red Cloud. The caramel-and-cream pinto grazed side-on to them. His two-toned mane touched the ground and his conformation showed the best of both breeds. He had the grace and finely molded head of an Arabian, but his deep chest and short-coupled body looked more like a Morgan. When Sugarfoot saw the newcomers, he lifted his head.

With his gold-and-white forelock blowing clear of his face, he studied them, then snorted and came closer at a trot.

“That's not chasing, is it?” Patrick asked.

“Not even close,” Ann said.

Darby slipped in next to her friend at the fence. Ann's eyelids were red-rimmed and puffy.

Darby heard Jonah's sigh. They'd both deduced from Ann's eyes that she'd been crying.

Had something else gone wrong? What was that book tucked under her arm? This wasn't the time to ask, so Darby just squeezed Ann's hand.

Sugarfoot stopped a few feet from the fence and waited for Ann to call him closer.

His dark eyes were confused. He didn't know why Ann wasn't coaxing and sweet-talking him. His ears cupped toward Ann as he waited for a sign that she cared.

“This is not an aggressive horse,” Jonah said.

Ramona agreed. “I don't know how much Ed told you, but the man who used to own him had a stallion station, horses of all breeds, and he told us he bought this pinto for his color, conformation, and fire.”

Jonah nodded, encouraging her to go on, and Darby wondered why.

Her grandfather had told Ed that he wanted to figure out the puzzle of this horse on his own. Maybe Ann's distress made him less inclined to treat the horse's problem as a game.

“You know how some people show off pit bulls, Rottweilers, and other dogs with bad reputations? They showed
him
off as a fierce stallion.”

“I brought this out to show you.” Ann handed Jonah the book she'd had tucked under her arm. It
was a small photo album filled with pictures of Sugarfoot. “These are the ones I thought you'd want to see.”