Galloping Gold Read online

  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.

  Chapter Four

  “Good thing you’re back,” Jonah told Darby as the Potters drove away. “Your Aunty Cathy needs help in the house.”

  Wary of housekeeping chores, which she hated, Darby still didn’t complain. Instead she asked, “Where’s Cade?”

  “You think he’s gonna do your chores?”

  “No, but I bet he’s doing something more fun,” Darby said.

  “That Cathy’s pretty tough,” Jonah said, but his expression was so weird, Darby couldn’t tell if he was joking, or meant what he’d said. “Cade took a ride out,” Jonah added, and made a vague gesture toward the hills.

  Darby guessed unexpected guest riders had shown up. Since they’d shown off the cremellos at the keiki rodeo, lots of tourists had come to ‘Iolani Ranch to ride. Thinking of their increased income reminded Darby of the visiting mare.

  “Did that La Bamba mare come all the way over from California?” Darby asked.

  Jonah nodded.

  “Owned by people with more money than good sense,” he said, hiding his pleasure. “She’s sure got your filly stirred up.”

  “Hoku wants to be the lead mare or something,” Darby explained.

  “Or something,” Jonah agreed, but he only gave Banshee La Bamba a few seconds’ thought before he went on. “Finish up in the house. I’m gonna tell you how to teach your horse a lesson on frustration management.”

  “What’s that?” Darby asked, but Jonah didn’t answer.

  “Wear your boots and old jeans.”

  “Maybe I should do that now,” Darby suggested.

  “It won’t be pretty,” Jonah said. “Let the tourists get off the place first.” Then Jonah shooed her toward Sun House.

  Darby hoped Jonah had meant that Aunty Cathy needed help with work she’d brought from the office up to the house. Aunty Cathy often reviewed price lists of standard vaccines for the horses so that she could make the smartest purchases.

  Or maybe it was something to do with organizing a group ride. Lately they’d been contacted by Girl Scouts, YMCA Indian Guides, and even parents wanting to schedule birthday rides for children and their friends.

  Darby didn’t mind making lists of games and refreshments, except that she was eager to go ride Hoku.

  Frustration management. Hoku doesn’t need that nearly as much as Sugarfoot, Darby thought as she reached Sun House. Maybe the gelding just wanted to run for the fun of it.

  By the time she’d taken off her shoes and left them by the front door, Darby had persuaded herself that her indoor chores would have something to do with horses.

  “Aunty Cathy?” she called, but there was no answe
r.

  Yes! she thought. If Aunty Cathy had already finished the job, Darby sure wouldn’t go looking for another one.

  Darby sauntered down the hall to her bedroom and dropped her sleepover bag on the bed. She didn’t know whether to curl up on her bed to read right now or take her book with her when she went down to the broodmare pasture to see Hoku.

  Then she heard Aunty Cathy’s voice.

  “I’m out on the lanai,” she called.

  With a sigh, Darby headed for the living room and walked through it to the wooden deck that overlooked the ranch.

  Where is Megan? Darby wondered. Why isn’t she inside doing chores, too?

  The job wasn’t repulsive, just boring. Aunty Cathy said that the vog—volcanic fog—drifting from the active one of the Two Sisters wasn’t good for the plants that grew in bright containers on the lanai. Darby’s job was to sponge off each and every leaf to help the plants “breathe.”

  “What’s in this?” Darby asked, nodding at the basin of liquid Aunty Cathy had prepared.

  “Just water. I used to dilute milk and use it as leaf polish, but I read that it clogs the plants’ pores with protein.”

  Darby realized her mind was wandering back to Sugarfoot and what she could do to keep him on his home ranch when Aunty Cathy’s voice rose and she asked, “Did you girls stay up late talking?”

  “Kind of, but it was this morning that really drained my energy,” Darby admitted. She gave Aunty Cathy a quick account of what had happened with Sugarfoot and Gemma Mookini.

  “That doesn’t sound very good,” Aunty Cathy said, “and I don’t know the family, but Kimo does. You might ask him if she’s likely to carry through with the threat.”

  “I will, but they need to work with Sugarfoot anyway.” Darby lowered her voice. “He knocked a visitor out of his wheelchair once.”

  Aunty Cathy sucked in a breath and blinked as if she was trying to erase a mental picture of a wheelchair’s silver spokes whirring around in a blur.

  “I’ll put my mind to a solution,” Aunty Cathy promised, “but it’s already spinning with luau plans.”

  Instead of drooping with exhaustion, Aunty Cathy looked kind of smug.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Darby asked her.