Galloping Gold Page 9

  She watched for low limbs that could sweep her off Sugarfoot’s back, too, and old fence posts that might cut through her jeans or scratch Sugarfoot if they were crowded by another horse.

  When Darby dismounted at the designated stop, Sugarfoot swung around at the end of the reins, looking back with pricked ears for Ann.

  “He knew you were on your way,” Darby said as Ann, followed by Megan, jogged into sight, “and he didn’t act up or try to see you until now.”

  “That’s my Shuggie boy.”

  “Yuck!” Darby said as Ann baby-talked to the horse before she mounted.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Megan agreed.

  “Whatever works,” Ann said as she landed in the saddle.

  And then her attitude changed. Ann leaned over her horse’s neck and made a ssssssss noise while she pushed her reins forward, giving the gelding all the rein he’d take. They plunged into a gallop before Darby could take a single step.

  “I can see how this is going to go,” Darby said, but she jogged after her friend, following the drift of Sugarfoot’s long tail until it vanished from view.

  On the way back to ‘Iolani Ranch, Ann stayed in the saddle and asked Megan and Darby to walk ahead.

  “Like bait?” Megan said, looking over her shoulder.

  “I won’t let him trample you,” Ann promised.

  “You know,” Megan said suddenly, “a lot of those things you have to watch out for—like exposed roots and low branches and old fence posts—we could use those.”

  “To sabotage other riders?” Ann joked.

  “No, to tie him.” Megan jerked her thumb toward Sugarfoot.

  Something in the gesture must have provoked him, because Ann yelled, “Heads up!”

  Darby and Megan darted off the path into the undergrowth, but Sugarfoot fought the bit, going after Megan.

  He only took a few steps before Ann turned him around. Now facing away from the girl he’d wanted to chase, Sugarfoot fretted and stamped. Without saying a word, Ann refused to let him move until he dropped his head in cranky submission.

  “Back,” Ann said. She tightened her reins and stirred her legs against the paint, making him back down the trail.

  When Ann finally turned the horse toward home again, Megan put her hands on her hips. Looking up at her friend, she said, “I suppose you want me to do that again.”

  “Would you?” Ann asked.

  Megan rolled her eyes, but she and Darby fell into step just as they had before. And for about ten minutes, Sugarfoot was a dream horse.

  Darby glanced back. She could only see the top of Ann’s red curls. Her friend seemed to be concentrating either on her hands or on Sugarfoot’s withers. Darby didn’t understand what was going on. Why was the gelding sweated up worse than he’d been after their workout?

  “Tell him he’s a good boy, Ann,” Darby urged.

  “Not yet,” Ann told her. “He’s still thinking about his next move. I can feel it.”

  They stood stiffly, waiting, until Megan’s off-topic question surprised them.

  “How should we decorate him?” she asked.

  “I haven’t even thought of that,” Darby answered. “Dr. Luke said teams did that so that they could tell one tied brown horse apart from the others. Do you really think Sugarfoot will be hard to pick out?”

  Without thinking, Darby gestured at Sugarfoot just as Megan had.

  “Heads—” Ann called out.

  “I don’t like this game!” Megan shouted as she dashed off the trail into a garrote of drooping vines.

  This time when Sugarfoot lunged, Ann was ready for him. She snapped his reins taut before his front hooves landed. He squealed in frustration, but once more she turned his tail to the girls and made him stand still.

  He pawed the earth spitefully, ripping up grass and dirt clods, until Ann said, “That’s not still. You have to stand still, Shug.”

  The words must have meant something to him, because the gelding snorted, blew a loud breath through his lips, and hung his head so low his forelock brushed the ground. Then, before Ann forced him to back down the trail, he did it himself, stepping so fast, it looked to Darby like Sugarfoot could trot backward.

  “That’s one smart horse,” Megan said, and then she covered her mouth. “Oh no, did I just sound like Jonah?”

  “Little bit.” Darby’s sing-song voice made the other girls laugh.

  For the rest of the walk home, Sugarfoot really was perfect.

  Their next practice went even better.

  Despite sore muscles from the day before, Darby managed to ride Sugarfoot faster, so he wasn’t as frisky as Ann mounted him.

  As Darby started her turn afoot, Megan jogged beside her.

  “Know what I’m starting to realize?” Darby gasped.

  Megan shook her head, conserving oxygen.

  “How much we ask them—h-horses—to do.” Darby gestured for Megan to stop, then took a drink from her water bottle.

  She choked on her first swallow.

  “You okay?” Megan asked, and Darby nodded.

  When she finally got her breath, she leaned forward with her hands on her thighs.

  “What I mean,” she said, smothering a last cough, “is that by running this course like Sugarfoot’s doing”—Darby wiped her sweaty forehead and arranged her thoughts—“it makes me appreciate horses even more. They spend their energy for us whether they’re thirsty or their muscles ache, just because we ask them to. It’s amazing.”

  Jonah’s prescription for Sugarfoot was amazing, too. Just as her grandfather had predicted, as the gelding worked more, he charged less.

  Although many people didn’t believe horses thought, Darby knew they did. How else could you explain the way Hoku had stayed next to her each time she’d fallen off? And what about the proud way Navigator had pranced when he was leading the ride and carrying Jason the other day?

  Some horses just wanted to have a purpose to their exercise.

  Like us, Darby thought. Even after long, hot days of ranch work, she, Megan, and Ann dove into training as if it were a cool swimming pool, because training Sugarfoot had a serious goal. Ann would lose him if he didn’t reform.

  “Do you have heatstroke or are you just daydreaming?” Megan asked, looking over her shoulder as Darby lagged behind.

  “Neither!” Darby said. She took another sip of water, swallowed carefully this time, and caught up.

  The gelding hadn’t charged even once on the way home, and the girls were standing with him in front of the tack shed, bragging to Kit and Kimo.

  As Darby took her turn with the sweat scraper, she admired Sugarfoot’s lean muscles, then asked Ann, “Even if his coloring makes him easy to tell apart from other horses, can we decorate him?”

  “Yeah, that would be fun,” Megan agreed.

  “Decorate him how?” Ann asked. She leaned an ear toward the gelding’s lips and pretended he’d confided something to her. “He has his dignity, you know.”

  “Not sissy stuff,” Megan promised the horse. “We wouldn’t paint pink hearts or daisies on you.”

  “Nothing wrong with flowers,” Kimo insisted. “Paint a lehua lei on him.” Kimo drew his index finger in a half circle below his collarbone. “It would look real nice.”

  “Make him a war pony,” Kit suggested.

  “That would be so cool!” Ann said. “No offense, Kimo, but I used to have this coloring book when I was little that showed all these Native American designs. I wish I knew where it was. Maybe my mom could find it.”

  “I know a few,” Kit said. “How ’bout, on race morning, we let that be my contribution to the team? I’ll surprise you.”

  “Yeah!” Ann said, and when she gave Kit a high-five, they all ended up doing it.

  Except for Kimo. “Okay for this time, but your Hoku?” he said, pointing at Darby. “She’ll have a Hawaiian foal someday and you’ll want him to wear lehua lei.”

  The mental image made Darby smile, but si
nce her tomboy mare didn’t like stallions any more than she liked guys, that day seemed awfully far away.

  “I wonder when Cade found the time to lay out the course for the”—Darby punctuated the sentence with a yawn—“training race.”

  “Grudge match,” Ann corrected her.

  Mist as thick as clouds lay over the ranch as Darby and Ann came out of Sun House and Megan trudged down from her upstairs apartment. Cade had persuaded the girls to meet him and Pauli before the air turned hot and humid.

  Riding at dawn made sense, but no one was very happy about it. Pretending to be grumpy, Megan squinted at Ann and commented, “Clown hair,” as she fell into step with the others.

  Ann retaliated by snatching the blue baseball cap from Megan’s head. “Hat hair,” she said, but her comeback was a failure. Megan’s hair still fell sleekly down her back and Ann’s hair, looking like red cotton candy, refused to fit under the cap.

  Not awake enough to start a full-on scuffle, Ann flipped the cap back to Megan and kept walking until they heard hooves.

  They were still pretty far away, but Darby was sure the figures coming up the dirt road from the cattle guard were Pauli and Tyson. They walked on each side of a jumpy horse.

  “Who woulda guessed they were such early birds,” Darby said.

  “Don’t talk. You’re keeping me awake,” Ann grumbled. Then an equine rumble answered her, and Ann grinned. “It’s my Shuggie boy.”

  “You do that just to make me crazy,” Megan complained, but Ann was rushing toward the round pen, where Sugarfoot had spent the night.

  As the boys led Jellybean Jewel closer, Darby was stunned by the change in the mare. Her grass stains and tangles were gone. Her red-and-white coat shone even in the early light, and though she looked jumpier than she had the day Shan Stonerow first touched her, Pauli and Cade had transformed her into a beauty.

  Sugarfoot whinnied in greeting, Medusa neighed a warning, and when a neigh floated up from the lower pasture, Darby smiled. Her filly’s voice was like a melody. Hearing all this, Jewel’s polished hooves danced faster.

  “Look at that horse.” Megan spoke to Darby but didn’t look away from the Appaloosa. “You didn’t tell me she was so gorgeous.”

  “The last time I saw her, she wasn’t,” Darby answered as she glanced at the boys beside the horse.

  Tyson slouched along in detached indifference, hood up, sneakers dragging in the dust, but Pauli strutted and smiled.

  He loves that horse, Darby realized. He’s proud of her. I bet he put hours into grooming her.

  Darby wanted to stroke the mare, not just to feel a coat that looked as smooth as if a pitcher of cream had flowed over her head and down to her hooves, but to soothe the anxiety from her eyes.

  The mare’s freckled ears flicked forward in recognition as she spotted Cade. Walking up from the fold, the young paniolo looked proud, too. Cade leaned forward a little, as if his whole body welcomed the sight of the mare.

  “Take her on down to the fold,” Cade called to Pauli. “I left her gear there and we’ll bring Sugarfoot along in about…?”

  “Ten minutes,” Ann called.

  Munching the granola bars Darby had stashed in her windbreaker pocket, the girls readied Sugarfoot for his first horse-to-horse competition. Then Darby and Ann rode double while Cade and Megan followed behind, heads close together as if they were telling secrets.

  “Our manager doesn’t look like she’s enjoying her conversation with their manager,” Ann said, watching the two.

  Darby glanced back. By the look of things, Cade and Megan weren’t fighting, but Ann was right. They didn’t look happy with each other.

  Darby wished she could hear more of what they were saying, though a fragment of conversation came through loud and clear.

  Cade said, “Give him a chance.”

  Megan insisted, “I’m nice to everybody.”

  “Yeah, everybody,” Ann said, and giggled. “I can’t help thinking of how she helped me twist Stonerow’s arms up behind his back.”

  “He deserved it,” Darby said. Anyone who tried to steal her horse deserved a lot worse than being tackled and subdued by a bunch of teenagers. “But who do you think they’re talking about? Pauli or Tyson?”

  Sugarfoot must have known they weren’t paying attention, because, without slowing down, he grabbed a bite of trailside grass.

  “Hang on,” Ann warned Darby, and instantly Ann closed her left leg against Sugarfoot and tipped his head to the right. The gelding hesitated, trying to chew his mouthful of greenery, but Ann wouldn’t let him. Darby balanced herself as Sugarfoot carried them in a right side pass. As soon as he’d done it, though, Ann reversed her cues and sent the paint into a left side pass.

  “What are you doing?” Darby asked as Sugarfoot dropped the grass and carried them on down the trail.

  “I can’t always stop him from a snack attack,” Ann said, “but I can make sure he doesn’t enjoy it.”

  Every day Darby learned there was lots more to communicating with a horse than most people knew.

  “Good idea,” Darby said, but Sugarfoot blew through his lips, clearly disagreeing.

  Sugarfoot responded to the slight pressure of Ann’s right leg and moved closer to Cade and Megan in time for the girls to hear Cade say, “He’s not so bad. Pauli’s putting pressure on him as a pal.”

  To do what? Darby wondered. Be in the race?

  “He’d better be,” Ann said quietly to Darby, “because there’s not much time left before the race, and if we don’t have another team to practice against, Sugarfoot might not understand what we want from him.”

  Darby nodded. Ann had staked everything on the chance that this race would prove that Sugarfoot wasn’t dangerous.

  Practicing against a strong competitor like Tyson could make a difference in how Sugarfoot performed on race day.

  Kit had driven into town to buy plastic flags at a party store and Cade had used them to mark a course that ran from the fold, across the ridge above Two Sisters pasture, then zoomed downhill and into the rain forest.

  “If we do it again tomorrow,” he told them, “we might start in the rain forest and go toward Crimson Vale, but I didn’t know how much time everybody had.”

  “Dawn and dusk are best for us,” Megan said. She spoke for the team, as if Cade didn’t already know the schedule at the ranch.

  “Me too,” Pauli said. “I’m working the lunch shift at the resort most days.”

  Arms crossed, head bowed inside his hood, Tyson appeared to be napping. Darby wanted to shake him, but she kept quiet and so did everyone else, just assuming he kept the same hours as the rest of them.

  The team managers had decided that Pauli and Ann would ride first, while Tyson and Darby jogged first.

  Great, Darby thought. After the irritation flashed over her, she realized she’d probably grimaced.

  “Don’t worry,” Tyson said lazily. He peeled off gray sweatpants to show muscular legs in black athletic shorts. “We won’t be together for long.”

  He was so right, Darby thought five minutes later.

  Cade had learned that Dr. Luke used a popgun to start the race, so he did, too, and though Sugarfoot only took in the strange horse and unfamiliar surroundings with his senses, Jewel hopped sideways, almost dumping Pauli, before she bounded into a run.

  Tyson was jogging ahead of the Appaloosa when Darby realized her own Lehua High sweatpants, T-shirt, and windbreaker weren’t the right clothes for the running part of the race.

  Oh well, that’s why it’s called practice, she thought. Besides, Sugarfoot was going to save them.

  During their trial run, they learned that Sugarfoot used up more energy waiting for his next rider than actually running.

  As Darby approached the gold-and-white gelding, tied at a fence post on Two Sisters ridge, she saw he was dark with sweat. She worried for only a few seconds because he was usually so difficult to mount anyway, but it was clear that the only thing wrong wit
h him was impatience. He wanted to run after Jewel.

  “Let’s see what you do when we catch up,” Darby said. She leaned into the gelding’s mane as Ann had, and Sugarfoot streaked after the Appaloosa.

  Before they reached her, Pauli pulled Jewel up short, slid off, and tied her to a fence post. He spent a long time doing it, as if he and Tyson hadn’t practiced their knots.

  Sugarfoot rushed past Pauli and Jewel, acknowledging them with only a flick of his ears.

  A few strides later, she thought she heard Tyson shout, but it didn’t matter, because Darby was in the midst of learning she’d rather ride Sugarfoot uphill than down.

  Was it the inviting green slope rolling bare and horseless before him? The sight of Ann trying to run rather than roll downhill? Whatever inspired him, Sugarfoot chose the steepest slant as the place to show off his speed.

  I do not have the nerves for this, Darby thought. Each charging step tipped her closer to the saddle horn, closer to Sugarfoot’s neck, closer to tumbling over his golden ears, past his lightning-bolt blaze, into the path of his hooves.

  She wanted off. Now. But Darby waited until they reached level ground to gather her reins and stop Sugarfoot. Snorting and tossing his head, he compressed himself into a bundle of energy, capering sideways as they reached Ann.

  “My turn,” Ann called as they jogged past.

  “Absolutely!” Darby yelled, but it took her so long to find a place to tie Sugarfoot that Ann caught up with her.

  She couldn’t do that in the real race, she knew, but Pauli and Tyson were breaking even more rules.

  They hadn’t switched.

  For some reason, Tyson had run right past Jewel. He should have mounted the Appy by now. But he hadn’t, so Pauli ran in the opposite direction, back to get his horse.

  For a few minutes, Darby jogged alone.

  Ann and Sugarfoot had gone out of sight, and Tyson hadn’t caught up yet.

  Yards ahead of her, an animal bumbled along through high grass. Darby changed her course to avoid it, and the move cost her her lead over Tyson.

  “Why—you still running?” she asked him.

  “Pauli tied such a stupid knot, I couldn’t get the horse loose,” he said, with no sign of breathlessness. And then he passed her.