High Hurdles (26 page)

Major turned his head to nuzzle Joe’s shoulder.

“Knock ’em dead, you two.” Joe gave each of them a pat and crossed the dirt staging area to the log seats that made up the viewing stands.

DJ worked Major easily through his paces, letting him take his time while she exchanged remarks with other riders. She could feel herself relaxing. This was what she loved to do. Like actors loved the camera or the stage, she loved horse shows.

“English Pleasure to the ring. English Pleasure to the ring.”

DJ trotted Major the remaining distance around the warm-up ring and out the gate. Joe stood there, cloth in hand. He wiped off Major’s nose, legs, and hooves. With a soft brush, he ran quickly over the horse’s rump. “Okay, now you really are ready.”

DJ blew him a kiss. She entered the ring, third in line. Major acted as if he’d been showing all his life. Ears pricked forward, taking in everything around him, he did everything DJ asked. Walk, trot, canter, reverse. When she came too close to a rider in front, she turned him in a circle into the ring and back in line. He changed gaits smoothly and on command.

The judge motioned them into line in the center of the ring. The horse on their left refused to stand, and the rider had to take him out of line and bring him back. Twice.

Major never moved. The big horse could have been carved in granite.

The judge started with the lower ribbons, and the spectators gave each rider a burst of applause. When she handed DJ the blue, cheers and whistles broke out—mostly from the Academy line-up.

DJ tried to be cool about the whole thing, but the smile she gave the judge for the ribbon and the sack of feed donated by a local feed store could have warmed Alaska.

“Congratulations. It’s good to see you back in the ring.”

“Thank you. This is his first time out.” She patted Major’s neck.

“Well, you certainly couldn’t tell by that performance. Good luck with him.”

DJ looked up to the stands. Her mother sat beside Robert, and she was clapping harder than anyone. Anyone but Joe, that is. When he met her at the gate, she could have sworn he’d had to wipe away moisture from his eyes—tears maybe?

DJ dismounted so they could walk together. After his congratulatory hug, he strolled beside her, letting the silence be. For a change DJ felt no need to fill the silence. “I’m really proud to own him, Joe. Thank you so much for making this part of my dream come true.”

“I can see we’re going to do a lot of dream building together, darlin’. You are a real pro.”

The next class didn’t go as well; DJ and Major only got a white.

“You were the best out there.” Angie looked ready to take on the judge.

“You got ripped.” Krissie was all ready to join her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but the judge didn’t see it that way. Being a good sport is a part of the game.”

DJ’s mind flitted back to the question she’d been asking herself all day.
Should I, or shouldn’t I?
One minute she was all ready to register for the Hunter/Seat jumping class. The next she remembered what Bridget had said. But Major wasn’t acting like a new trainee. He loved it out there.

She left the horse area and went to sit by her family.

“The boys are ready to start riding tomorrow.” Robert kept them corralled, one under each arm. “Did you hear them hollering for you? If the judge hadn’t given you a ribbon, they were ready to attack.”

Bobby and Billy looked up at her, their faces serious for a change.

“Can I hold your ribbon?”

“Me too?” They didn’t even yell.

Joe leaned closer. “I think it’s your outfit. They aren’t one-hundred percent sure it’s really you in there.”

DJ looked over at her mother, sitting on the other side of Gran. The two wore matching grins of pride. “Thanks for coming, Mom, Gran.” To her own surprise, DJ realized she meant it. Having her mother here for the first time to see a horse show made the day even better. “I better get back to work. See you later.”

Should she, or shouldn’t she?

“What do you think, Ames?” The two of them spent the lull between entries leaning on the arena fence in front of the horse line.

“I think you should do what Bridget suggested.” Amy made “suggested” sound like ordered. She raised an eyebrow when DJ groaned.

“DJ, come help me.” The cry came from one of her students.

Sam’s horse had kicked his neighbor.

DJ ran a hand down the kicked leg. She wiped away a dirt smudge. “He just grazed it. Let’s put some more space be—no, let’s move him to the end of the line.” She assisted the transfer, and when she got back to the fence, she’d decided.

If one of her students went against her advice, she’d be peeved. What if Sam had said no to the move? DJ carefully hung her jacket on a hanger in the tack box. She placed her helmet in a plastic bag to keep it clean.

Amy gave her a thumbs-up sign.

“We’ll jump another day,” she whispered to Major’s flicking ears. “By then we’ll be so good, they’ll beg us to jump.” She tickled his whiskers and slipped him a horse cookie.

“Last call for novices on the lead. Hunter/Seat will follow.”

DJ swallowed—hard. With one last look at the riders coming into the arena, she turned and headed down the line to see if Hilary needed any help.

“I’m fine, thanks. I was hoping you’d be in the ring with me.” Hilary rechecked the girth on her saddle.

“So was I. Next time.”

“Major looked really great out there. He was having fun, wasn’t he?”

“Yep, me too.”

“Everything all right here?” Bridget stopped beside them, her clipboard a natural extension of her arm.

“How come DJ’s not entering Hunter/Seat?” Hilary asked.

“Do you want to?”

Dumb question. Did kids like ice cream? “B-but you said—”

“I said our discussion was open to change. You and Major have done a fine job. He appeared comfortable out there—in fact, I think he likes to show off, so I . . .” she glanced down at her list. “I entered the two of you. Joe is coming over to help you get ready. Any questions?”

DJ shook her head.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bridget tapped DJ on the shoulder. “Don’t rush—and concentrate.”

“And count his strides.” DJ touched her finger to her forehead in a salute and dog-trotted back to where Joe was already saddling Major.

“I’ll get my jacket.” Her heart thundered in her throat. They were going to jump. Granted the jumps were low and easy, but this was it. Her first time.

Major was scheduled to jump last, but waiting didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Remember, he’s used to patrol. A lot of nothing goes on for hours. He learned years ago that getting excited only raises a sweat.” Joe wiped the beads of moisture off his forehead. “Hot here today, isn’t it?”

DJ looked at him to see if he realized what he’d said. His wink let her know he did. “You’re the best, GJ.”

“Give ’em a run for their money, DJ.” He boosted her into the saddle. “See ya.”

Major trotted into the arena, ears forward, seeming to float above the ground. He took the jumps like a veteran, never a hesitation, at a perfect pace. Each time he leaped into the air, DJ reminded herself to count.

The judge conferred with another when all the entrants had jumped. DJ and Hilary kept their horses at a standstill.

“For a first-timer, that was wonderful.” Hilary gave DJ a smile to match her compliment.

“You’ll get the blue, just watch.” Even while DJ said what she felt to be true, she wished—oh, how she wished—for the blue.

Again the judge started at the lower end. She worked her way up, leaving Hilary, DJ, and one other rider for the three remaining ribbons.

“Number 43, a white ribbon goes to . . .”

DJ didn’t hear the rider’s name and horse. The blood pounded through her ears and out to her fingertips.

“The red goes to . . .” The judge paused. DJ couldn’t find any spit to swallow.

“Number 61, DJ Randall on Major.”

DJ pasted a smile on her face and trotted forward. She leaned over to accept the ribbon and thanked the judge.

“Hilary Jones, also of The Briones Riding Academy, earned the blue today, along with a halter donated by Pleasant Hill Feed Store.”

DJ clapped along with the rest. “Next time, Major. You keep your eye on that ribbon because we want two blues next time.” She leaned over to slap high fives with Hilary.

“I am very glad I was not the judge.” Bridget met them when they left the arena. “You can both go home proud of what you accomplished.”

That kind of compliment from Bridget was better than a ribbon any day.

By the end of the day, weary riders and fathers loaded weary horses. When they had all the animals back in their stalls and the tack put away, Joe reminded DJ that Robert was taking them all out for dinner.

“I’d rather go home.” DJ didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but beat didn’t begin to describe the way she felt.

“We won’t be late.”

“Did Mom say anything about her trip?” Now that the excitement was over, reality crowded back in.

Joe shook his head.

“Where are we going?” DJ looked over at Joe when he turned into his own driveway.

“The boys voted for fried chicken.” He winked at her. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I’m surprised.”

When everyone had dished up their plates in the kitchen and found places to sit around the long dining-room table, DJ and her two shadows sat directly across from Robert and Lindy.
So what did they decide? To hire you on the spot? Have you already found a place to live?

DJ kept her mouth under tight rein. Answering the boys’ questions gave her no time to ask any of her own.

Robert clapped his hands for attention. “Lindy has something she’d like to say.” Silence blanketed the table.

Lindy gave DJ a tiny smile. She got to her feet. “My trip to Los Angeles was very successful.”

DJ froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

“I have a new position.”

“Tell ’em your title,” Robert prompted from beside her.

“I am now the district manager in charge of sales.”

DJ started to push back her chair.

“The district covers Northern California.”

Northern California. We live in Northern California
. “I thought the job was in L.A.” The words burst out before she could stop them.

“I said the trip was successful. They created a matching position for this area.”

DJ let out a whoop and scooped both of the twins up in her arms. They giggled and threw their arms around her neck. “No more changes. You hear that, guys? We’re staying right here.”

“Right here.”

“No changes.” The two sounded like parrots.

DJ looked over to see the sun shining on Gran’s face. Gran mouthed the words,
I told you so
. “Well, I for one am in favor of no more major changes for this family. We’ve had enough challenges lately.” She gave Joe that special smile she reserved for him.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Robert said under cover of the hub-bub.

DJ heard him. What kind of changes could he be talking about? Oh-oh. His face was lit with the same kind of smile Gran gave Joe.

Maybe there would be more changes ahead—but then, changes, challenges, both were good. Weren’t they?

To Joanie Jagoda,

who shares her horse expertise

and her heart with me.

As is always the case with true friends,

my life is richer because of her,

and my books are better thanks to her input.

One day she’ll be giving me riding lessons.

Yes!

Chapter
•
1

“Do not rush the jump!” Bridget ordered.

Straight ahead between Major’s pricked ears, DJ Randall watched the brush jump draw closer with every thrust of her horse’s haunches.
Now!
They lifted and flew over the jump, clean and perfect, before her mind could finish the command. Major came down on his front feet, his rear landing in perfect timing.

DJ kept her focus on the three rails of alternating height before them. Silently counting, she leaned forward, heels down and eyes straight ahead.

“Come on, boy.” Her murmur was lost in the shush of hooves in the sand, the grunt of a horse giving his best effort. For a split second, they hung suspended in air.

That was the moment DJ lived for.

The clack of a back hoof on the rail sounded as loud as a cannon shot.

“Concentrate, DJ—you lost your concentration.” Bridget Sommersby, trainer and owner of Briones Riding Academy, called from the center of the ring. “You got left behind.”

“Fiddle.”

“Come on, go around again.”

DJ did as she was told, this time forcing herself to forget the glory and count the paces.

They finished the circuit with the in and out, a jump that looked more difficult than it actually was. If horses could laugh, Major was—both he and DJ. In her case, the laugh was one of pure delight.

“Well done.” DJ’s mentor leaned her elbows against the aluminum rail fence. “That was as close to a perfect round as you have ever ridden, in spite of the tic.” Bridget pushed her glasses farther up on her nose with one finger. Her smile made DJ feel as though she’d just won the Grand Prix.

Or at least she thought it would feel that way. Since DJ had never won the Grand Prix in her fourteen years, or even been to one for that matter, she held on to the feeling for as long as she could.

She wanted to squeeze Major’s neck in a hug to end all hugs, shout hallelujah, and . . . and how could she possibly act professional, as Bridget expected? Her huge smile splintered her cheeks and her jawbone.

“Thank you.” There, DJ had managed to keep the lid on her excitement.

“Wow!” Amy Yamamoto, DJ’s best friend, rested her arms across her saddle horn as she and her half-Arab gelding, Josh, rode up. Josh tossed his head and nickered as if he agreed.

After shooting a raised-eyebrow look at Amy, DJ stopped Major in front of Bridget. Cheers would come later.

“We will raise the poles for your next lesson, but you must concentrate. You have a tendency to get so caught up in the thrill of the jump that you leave too much up to Major. If you were riding a horse that was not a natural jumper, you could get into difficulties.”

DJ listened attentively and nodded. “Will that feeling go away with more practice?”

“I hope not.” Bridget smiled up at her student. “That joy is what makes you a good rider and is why you are learning so quickly. Major feels it, too, so he gives you his best.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The more you concentrate and focus on what you are doing, the more joy there will be for you in riding. You will understand what I mean in time.” Bridget smiled again.

DJ felt the warmth of the smile encircle her and bring an answering grin to her own face. “Thanks.” No other word came to mind that began to describe what she was feeling.
I’m finally jumping, I have a super-fantastic horse of my own, and if I don’t get to move soon, I’m afraid I’ll explode!

“I better put Major away and get home. See you tomorrow.” At Bridget’s nod, DJ lightly squeezed her lower legs. Major responded immediately by heading for the gate.

“You know, horse, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you understood English better’n I do.” DJ patted the sweaty neck of the sixteen-hand bay. Major paused so she could swing the gate open, then walked on through, stopping again to allow the gate to be closed. “And if I didn’t want to jump so bad, you’d be a sure winner in the Trail class.”

“You two were awesome.” Amy dismounted at the same time DJ did, and together they led their horses into the red-sided pole barn. The two friends were about as opposite as could be. Amy, tiny at five feet, had flowing dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, rode Western, and thrived on hot, spicy food. At five feet seven, DJ was as long-legged as a colt, had sparkling green eyes, felt English was a far more comfortable ride, and hated peppery food. Both girls shared one major complaint—their bodies had about as many curves as a plank. Many times, DJ had sighed and noted, “Some
boys
have bigger chests than we do.” Amy had to agree.

“Ames, pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.” DJ held out her arm to her friend. “Ouch! I was only kidding.”

With the reins draped over one arm, she reached up to remove her helmet and tighten the band holding her wavy blond hair in a ponytail.

Major sniffed her hair, then her jeans pocket, nosing for the treat she saved for his reward.

“Sorry, old man, you ate it earlier.”

Major blew in her face, slobber and all.

“Yuck.” DJ wiped the wet drops off her tanned face with the hem of her T-shirt.

The horse rubbed his nose against her chest, leaving white hairs, slobber, and sweat on the dark blue fabric.

“Now you did it. Mom will insist I change clothes before dinner.”

“Well, you better hurry then. We won’t be home before dark at this rate. And I have tons of homework. Besides, you don’t want your mother yelling at you.” Amy stripped off her Western saddle and the thick pad underneath it while she talked. Always practical, Amy did her best to keep DJ out of trouble.

“Okay, okay.” DJ followed suit, setting her English saddle on one of the two-by-four bars that made up the saddle rack on the wall of the tack room. Her name was written on a three-by-five card to remind everyone that this was her private property. Most horse boarders took their gear home with them, but since DJ and Amy usually rode their bikes to the Academy, they kept their tack there.

“You
did
do your chores before you came?” Amy peered around Josh’s neck when DJ didn’t answer. “Didn’t you?”

DJ kept quiet.

“DJ!”

“Well, I was in a hurry, and—”

“We’d really better hurry now. What time did your mom say she’d be home?”

“Seven.”
And I sure hope that means eight, as usual. I don’t know where the time goes
. DJ’s thoughts kept pace with the two grooming brushes she wielded with such skill. Grooming a horse had become second nature to her.

If only Gran . . .
DJ clapped a lid on the thought. Gran didn’t live far away, but on nights like this, her house might as well have been on the other side of the moon. She wasn’t living with DJ and her mother now that she’d met and married Joe Crowder. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen cooking dinner or out in her studio putting the final touches on one of her paintings for illustrated children’s books.

“Earth to DJ. Come in, DJ.” Amy waved her hand in front of DJ’s face.

“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”

“No, not really. I was just talking to Josh here about his homework.” Amy wore a disgusted look that said she’d been expecting an answer.

“Sorry.” DJ gave Major’s now-dry coat a quick once over, checked the hay in the hay net, and grabbed the water bucket. “I’ll be right back.” While water gushed into the bucket from the spigot, she looked up toward the hills of northern California’s Briones State Park. While the hills still wore the gold of fall, soon winter would bring rain and, with it, tender shoots of green grass. The oak trees were turning shades of rust and gold, the color deepened by the setting sun. Down in the hollows, the trees already looked black.

DJ shut off the water. Black trees meant black skies, and black skies meant a black mood on her mother’s face and over the entire house if DJ wasn’t home before dark. DJ knew she’d better put herself in gear, but she’d rather be at the Academy than anywhere else on earth.

Amy and DJ signed out on the duty roster, DJ gritting her teeth at the signature right above hers.
Tony Andrada
. He was even worse than his predecessor, James, whom she used to think was the biggest pain alive. But thanks to her grandmother’s counseling, DJ and James had become friends. Unfortunately, Tony outdid James in rottenness a hundred to one.

“Have you heard from James?” As usual, Amy seemed to know what DJ was thinking.

“You blow me away.”

“How?” The pair swung their legs over their bikes at the same moment, as if the move had been choreographed by a dance instructor. “How did you know I was thinking about James?”

“I didn’t.” Amy shot a grin over her shoulder as they turned onto Reliez Valley Road. “So answer the question.”

“So I haven’t heard. You know he’d rather send e-mail than a letter, but since I don’t have a computer, he has to do things the old-fashioned way. Why is it so hard to type up a letter on the computer and stick it in the mail?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m not a computer nerd.”

“No, you’re just a horse nerd—like me.” DJ panted. The second hill always made her huff.

They turned and coasted down their own street. Coming home was always easier than going to the Academy, at least as far as peddling was concerned. DJ groaned. Her mother’s car sat in the driveway.

“You have company.”

“Hey, you’re right.” DJ’s groan changed to a grin. “Robert’s here.”

Amy turned up her drive and stopped to wave. “See ya in the morning.”

“Okay.” At least now, with company in the house, she wouldn’t get a lecture till later. And sometimes when her mother and Robert had been swapping gooey glances, trouble disappeared altogether.

DJ dismounted and entered the front door to press the button that raised the garage door. Tonight she would make sure her bike was put away. No need to make matters worse.

“Mom, I’m home.” No answer. DJ stashed her bike in the garage and reentered the house.

“DJ, is that you?”

“Who else do you suppose it would be?” DJ was careful to keep the mutter just that. “Yeah.” She raised her voice to be heard outside. Obviously they were out on the deck.

“You’re late.”

“It’s not dark yet.” DJ grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator and crossed the family room, no longer Gran’s studio, to the French doors leading onto the redwood deck. Robert and her mother turned to greet her.

DJ stopped as quickly as though she’d run into a glass wall. A diamond ring glinted on her mother’s hand.

“Robert has asked me to marry him.” Lindy looked up at the man standing just behind her, his arm around her waist.

DJ felt as if she’d been kicked in the chest by a feisty horse.