High Hurdles (62 page)

“I didn’t think you had jumps,” DJ said.

“We do, but they were in storage since no one was using them. Brad brought them out for you.”

As if in a dream, DJ took the reins Jackie handed her and led the dark bay gelding forward a couple of steps. She adjusted the stirrup leathers out for her longer legs, mounted, and checked to make sure they fit. Sliding her right leg back, she tightened the girth and tested again. Now comfortable with the fit, she deepened her seat in the saddle, checked all the points Bridget harped on, and signaled a walk. Herndon obeyed as if they’d been riding partners for years.

“Have you worked on bending yet?” Jackie asked when DJ had Herndon sufficiently warmed up.

“Some but not much.”

“But you understand what it is?”

DJ nodded. “Keep the horse bent around my inside leg and ask him to come down on the bit. Keeping Megs down on the bit is mostly what I’ve been working on.”

“Good, then this is the next step. You will work a serpentine pattern down the arena, so you’ll need to bend each way as you turn. This increases the suppleness of your horse.” She positioned DJ’s left leg just behind the girth. “Now for turning left, keep this leg here, shorten your left rein, and hold your right leg behind the girth just a bit. Keep your contact with the horse snug.” She looked up. “Do you understand?”

“Sure—until I try it.”

Jackie smiled. “That’s the way it is, all right. Herndon knows what you want, so relax. Let him teach you.”

DJ immediately dropped her shoulders.

“Good girl, now go for it. And remember, sit to the trot.”

By the third time through the serpentine, DJ was bending to the left consistently.

“Don’t drop your inside shoulder,” Jackie called. A few more times, and the right came more easily. Back and forth, up and down the arena. She totally lost track of time, finally picking up the pace. Bending at a walk was the most difficult.

“You did terrific work,” Jackie said when she called a halt sometime later.

“Thanks.” DJ leaned forward and petted the gelding’s sweaty neck. “He sure is willing. How could you bear to give him up?”

“Pure ambition.” Brad joined them on Matadorian, who snorted when brought to a standstill. “She wants a chance at the top, and poor old Herndon wasn’t good enough. Not the athlete Lord Byron is. We got him from a breeder and trainer in the Netherlands. Another year or so of experience, and Jackie and Lord Byron might make it.”

“Might?” Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Might?”

“Sorry. They
will
make it to the big time.” Brad shot his wife a teasing glance.

“I’d say level four is pretty big time.”

“Me too. It certainly took long enough to get there.” Jackie brushed Lord Byron’s mane to one side. “You want to jump now, or should we take advantage of the momentary sun to ride down to the fields? You can always jump later.”

DJ looked longingly at the series of jumps set up in the middle of the ring. But riding outside drew her like a magnet, especially when the weather had given her so few opportunities lately. “Let’s go outside.”

A mockingbird greeted them and the sun with an aria of joy. Two of the yearlings raced each other across the green pasture, tails flagging in the distinctive Arab way. Brad leaned forward and swung open the gate, Matadorian responding like a well-trained trail-riding horse. He backed on command and, once through, sidestepped so Brad could latch the gate again.

DJ watched appreciatively. While Major allowed her to do the same, Patches absolutely refused to cooperate yet. “Is there a trick to getting a horse to work with a gate like that? The gelding I’m training for the Johnsons would sooner jump the gate than let me open it.”

All the way along the field, they discussed horse training and tricks they had learned to get a spirited horse to obey.

“Calling that clown Patches spirited is like saying a lion is a house cat. I think he’s pure ornery and out to prove it to anyone who gives him the tiniest chance. You’ve got to watch him every minute—he gets bored easily.”

California oak trees with naked branches lined the river, giving promise of cooling shade in the summer. Every once in a while, a eucalyptus raised gray-leafed branches, its trunk littering the ground with shredded bark. Broken branches scattered about gave mute testimony to the latest windstorm. Just beyond the trees, the Petaluma river flowed high up the diked banks, brown with runoff soil.

The trunk of a willow tree floated downstream, its roots waving sadly to the sky. It caught on a fallen tree from the opposite side of the river and hung there before swirling on down toward the Bay.

“At least the river is falling today. That’s good.” Brad reined his mount to a stop. “If the storms let up, we’ll be okay. The Petaluma doesn’t usually get it as bad as the Russian River north of here.”

DJ watched the willow tree float away. It was moving pretty fast. A cloud covered the sun, sending shivers up her back. The river looked like a swollen brown snake between the banks of green. She never had liked snakes much.

“You want to jump now?” Jackie asked when Brad rode on ahead. “He’d rather patrol the perimeters of his camp, like a good commander. We’ll ride back here again during the summer when we can walk the horses right into the river, just around that bend.”

Within minutes, Jackie had the jumps adjusted for DJ’s training level. She moved off to watch, Lord Byron’s reins looped over her arm.

DJ felt a thrill shoot through her. Jumping again! It felt like she hadn’t jumped in months, maybe even years. She set Herndon into a canter and toward the first jump. He lifted off at just the right moment and landed so lightly, she felt like she was still flying. She could hear Jackie’s applause and Brad cheering her on as he rejoined them. The second jump, the third, and the fourth—each one renewed the thrill. This was what she lived for, those brief moments when she was airborne. There was no feeling like it anywhere else on earth. At least nothing she had ever felt.

DJ finished the sixth and continued the canter to where Brad and Jackie sat on their horses.

“That was great!” Brad’s face shone with his excitement.

Jackie nodded. “You did well. Shall I raise them?”

“Okay, but not much. Bridget says to keep the jumps low enough for a good workout, yet high enough to learn something. What I learned this time is that Herndon loves to jump. You see his ears? Forward the whole time.” She patted the horse’s neck. “Herndon, old boy, you’ve got a permanent friend in me.”

This round, they ticked on the fifth jump, and the pole came tumbling down. “Rushed that one, fella, and I got left behind. Sorry. Let’s go again.” She cantered back around to jump one and began the circuit again, this time concentrating on her timing. Bridget always said to count the beats between jumps, and DJ had skipped doing that on the tick round. When DJ finished with a clean slate this time through, Jackie asked if she should raise the poles again.

DJ hesitated. If this were a jump-off like those Hilary had to ride in almost every show, the poles would go higher. Should she do it?

She nodded, and Brad set the fifth jump higher than she had ever jumped.

They cantered forward, Herndon’s ears forward, joy in his every step. They cleared the first four with space to spare. DJ felt like she was part of a flying machine.

“Okay, fella, let’s do this one, too.”

They cantered toward the jump with three poles, the bottom two in an X-crossed pattern below the top one. DJ leaned forward, but Herndon swerved to the right.

DJ went airborne.

Chapter
•
5

DJ could feel something warm and sticky running down the left side of her face.

“DJ, are you all right?” Brad reached her as she gingerly sat up. “Oh my word—you’re bleeding!”

DJ raised a hand to her cheek and came away with blood on her glove. “Other than this scratch, I’m fine, I think.” She wiggled her toes, flexed her knees and ankles, and put a hand back on the ground to lever herself up. She looked up into her father’s face. If she was as white as he, she must look a sight. Red blood, white skin.
Oh, great. Just great!

“Thank God for helmets,” Jackie said as she knelt by DJ’s side. “You must have hit the base of the standard.” She reached over her shoulder for the folded handkerchief Brad handed to her. “Let’s get this on that cut before you bleed to death.” Her smile reassured DJ that bleeding to death wasn’t really an option.

If all the heat in her face originated with the cut, that would be fine. But feeling like an idiot usually brought its own hot skin. What a dumb thing to do—let Herndon dump her just because he didn’t want to jump the fence. She’d ridden other horses who had refused a jump. You had to be ready, that’s all. “Where’s Herndon? Is he all right?”

“That fool horse is fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Brad knelt at her other side.

“I shoulda been paying better attention. To let him dump me like that . . .” She shook her head.

“DJ, falls happen to the best riders. Hitting the ground goes with the territory.” Jackie pressed harder on the pad.

“I know, but . . .” DJ kept herself from flinching away. The cut was beginning to burn.

“No buts.” Brad extended a hand to pull her to her feet. “Let’s go get that cleaned up and see if you need a couple of stitches.”

“Stitches!” DJ could feel her mouth drop open. “I won’t need stitches.” She looked at Jackie. “Will I?” Her voice squeaked.
The wedding!
Would her face heal in time for the wedding, now only three weeks away? “Mom’s going to kill me.”

“Why? She should be glad you’re not hurt any worse.” Brad still wore a white ring around his mouth. “Thank God you aren’t hurt any worse. Or are you? Can you walk? How’s your shoulder? I should never have raised the jumps that last time. It’s all my fault.”

“Huh? What’s this fault garbage? I took a header, that’s all. It wasn’t my first, and I’ll bet anything it won’t be my last.”

Jackie smiled up at her husband. “Listen to your daughter, dear. In spite of getting clobbered by Herndon, she has her head on straight.” She turned back to DJ. “Come on, let’s see if anything else hurts. You’ll most likely get a black eye from this, too, since it’s right on the cheekbone.”

DJ groaned again.

“You hurt somewhere else?” Brad stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“No, but I probably will hurt in all kinds of places tomorrow. Can you just see a wedding where the bridesmaid has a black eye?”

“Oh no.” Now it was Brad’s turn to groan. “I forgot all about the wedding.” Brad turned from them at the arena gate. “You take her on up to the house, Jackie, and I’ll put the horses away.”

“I should make Herndon go back and take that fence.” DJ started to turn back.

“I don’t think so.” Brad shook his head. “You some kind of masochist?”

“No, she’s just like her father—thinking of the horse before herself.” Jackie took DJ’s arm, as if to keep her from turning back. “Come on, DJ, let’s see what we have here. See you in a few minutes, Brad.”

The warmth from the Land Rover’s powerful heater felt good since the sky had reverted to gray while they played in the arena. DJ shivered a bit and caught herself before she called herself any names. She could hear Bridget’s voice reminding her to let it go.
Don’t beat yourself or your horse
. How many times had she heard that bit of wisdom?

“I think we better take you in to the urgent care clinic up in Santa Rosa.” Jackie tilted the light in the bathroom so she could see better. “That cut looks deep and long enough that a butterfly bandage might leave you with more of a scar than stitches would.”

DJ groaned. “I hate going to doctors. They take forever.”

“I know. But your father will feel better about it. So will I.” She handed DJ a sterile pad. “Hold this in place while I get some ice. Let’s get that swelling down, if we can.” When she returned with ice in a zipped plastic bag, DJ applied that to the pad.

“I’m going to call the clinic and tell them we’re coming.”

“How long since you’ve had a tetanus shot?” the doctor asked as he examined the cut.

DJ shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t remember when.”

“Why don’t you call her mother and ask?” the doctor said to Jackie.

“Can’t you just give me one? My mom gets kinda uptight about stuff like this.”

“It’s better to check.” He turned and gave instructions to the nurse.

As Jackie started to leave, DJ said, “Call Gran instead. She’s the one who kept track of stuff like this. And please ask her not to tell Mom. Beg if you have to. Telling Mom now would ruin everything.”

“I’ll try.” Jackie wiggled her fingers as she went out the door.

“You want to tough this out, or would you rather have a bit of Novocain?” The doctor looked at her over the tops of his half glasses.

“How bad will the stitches hurt?” While she didn’t mind giving shots to a horse, needles puncturing her own hide had never been a real favorite of hers. Not even close.

“I think the shot hurts as bad as the stitches, but that’s only my opinion.”

“No shot then,” DJ said, eyeing the needle. The last time she’d had stitches was when she’d fallen out of a tree, years ago now. She’d ripped her knee on the branch that had cracked on the way down, but at least she hadn’t broken any bones. Gran always said DJ had fallen on a guardian angel. She even claimed she’d heard an extra
oof
when DJ hit the ground.

“Ready?” The doctor smiled at her.

DJ nodded. This time she wouldn’t be able to watch.

She told herself to relax when she lay against the pillow. She felt the nurse’s hands cupping her head to keep her from jerking away.

Jackie reentered the room just before the doctor began. “Her grandmother says it’s been five years since her last tetanus shot. And, DJ, she promised to let you do the talking when you get home.”

DJ started to nod, then stopped. “Good.”

Within minutes, she was stitched, bandaged, inoculated, and walking out the door. Brad leaped to his feet in the waiting room. “You okay?” At DJ’s nod, he turned to Jackie. “They stitched it?”

“Yes, worrying father, and your daughter is a trooper. Stitches without Novocain even.”

“Stitches, as in with a needle?” At DJ’s nod, he continued. “And you didn’t faint?”

“Faint?” She changed from a grin to a straight face when the bandage crinkled. “Ouch.”

“Don’t mind your father. He faints when a needle gets near him.”

“Not quite. Only when it pokes me. I just get dizzy before that.” He reached a gentle hand to touch the bandage. “I’m so sorry, DJ.”

DJ rolled her eyes and made Jackie laugh. Rather, she rolled one eye. The left one was now swollen halfway shut.

Once in the Land Rover, DJ leaned back and put the ice pack back on her face.

“The seat tilts,” Jackie said. “And remember, the doctor gave you some pain pills in case it starts hurting too badly. You don’t need to tough it out—the body heals faster when it isn’t fighting pain, too.”

“It hurts, but let’s try some Tylenol first. I hate that fuzzy feeling from pain-killers.”

They stopped at a convenience store and bought her a bottle of water to take the Tylenol with, so by the time they got back to the ranch, DJ was feeling pretty good again. But when she suggested she would like to go back to the arena and make Herndon take the jump, Brad looked at her as if she’d cracked her mind in the fall.

“I don’t
think
so.” He looked to Jackie as if for support. She just shrugged. “Maybe you better lay down for a while.”

DJ returned his cracked-mind look. She knew how to raise her eyebrows in just the same way he did, but she’d never dreamed that it was a trait she’d gotten from her father.

“Okay, how about coming with me to check on the mares? You could try out some names for the baby.”

DJ turned to Jackie. “I could help you with dinner if you like.”

“Thanks, sweetie, but I already made soup. You go with your dad and have a good time.”

It was the first time in her life someone had called her “sweetie,” but DJ didn’t mind a bit. From Jackie, it sounded just right. She followed her dad out to the truck, trying to duck between the raindrops since she had left her slicker down at the barn. “Do you always drive back and forth?” she asked when he had the truck in motion.

“Pretty much. Unless it’s really a nice day and I’m not in a hurry. Those days come few and far between, I’m afraid.”

“What is your work like?” She turned so she could see him better out of her one good eye.

“Not like what you see on television or the movies. Most legal work involves tons of reading, writing, and talking on the phone with clients. Since I’m not a trial attorney, I don’t spend a lot of time in court. I have some really sharp associates for that end of the business. They like the spotlight, and I like having a life besides the law.” He motioned to the farm around them. “If I could, I’d retire tomorrow and go full time into horse breeding.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope, I keep my practice going to support my horse habit. Since the bottom fell out of Arabian breeding, it’s hard to get ahead. Plus, we like to show, and Jackie is serious about wanting to compete on the Grand Prix level. International shows take a lot of time and money.”

“Local shows are bad enough.” DJ leaned back against the seat. “Mom always said having a horse was too much for our budget. Thing is, she’s right. If I didn’t work for Major’s board and then some, I couldn’t keep him.”

“DJ, are you short on money?”

“No. Why?” She thought back to what she’d said. “Oh no, don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t mean—I mean—” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I like working at the Academy, even mucking stalls when I have to. I like training Patches and will take on another when he is ready to leave me. Sure, vet bills are spendy and shoeing costs more than I’d like, but that’s part of owning a horse. Major is my responsibility.”

“And you’re a responsible person?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I can tell. You make me so proud I could pop.” He clasped his hands along the top of the steering wheel and turned his head to look at her. “Take today, for example—the way you handled the fall and getting stitched up—not to mention your riding ability, the wonderful way you draw, your sense of humor.” He gave her a smile that showed his feelings of pride and love. “Your mother has done a fine job with you.”

“Gran did most of the work.” DJ immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. The comment bordered on being less than nice.

“Well, then I can thank Melanie, too. She always was a woman of wisdom.”

DJ picked at a cuticle. When her courage grew strong enough, she said, “Can I ask you a question? One that’s been eating at me?”

He nodded. “Ask away, and I’ll answer if I can.”