High Hurdles Collection Two (9 page)

“But you'll bring it in and let me enter it if I think it has possibilities?”

DJ shrugged again. “Why not? How much does it cost to enter?”

“Nothing but the postage, and I'll spring for that.”

“It's your dime.”

“Nothing goes for a dime anymore, DJ.” Mrs. Adams wandered off to the next student, leaving DJ concentrating on her still life.

What chance did her foal drawing have when she couldn't get the perspective right on a silly picture frame?

On the way out of the classroom, she stopped at Mrs. Adams' desk. “Do you know when the art weekend will be?” “No, why?”

“Well … just in case … you know …” “In case she chooses you?”

DJ nodded. “If it was a show weekend, I couldn't go.” “When do your shows start?” “I think the first show is the last weekend in April.” “No problem. I'm sure this was earlier in the month.” “Okay, thanks.” DJ hustled and still was late for her PE class.

When she got home from school, DJ felt like falling on the bed and sleeping the night away. Instead, she forced herself to get dressed and ride her bike to the Academy. Pedaling along beside Amy, DJ could feel the sweat start under her arms and on her forehead. At the stop sign, she stopped and leaned her head over the bars, fighting to catch her breath.

“You sure you shouldn't have stayed home?”

“No … no … I'll be okay.” A pain stabbed her right side. She rubbed her ribs, but the pain didn't go away. Ignoring it, she pushed her pedal down and pealed out. Going downhill to the Academy drive was easier, and the pain disappeared. Parking her bike beside the barn, she headed to the office.

“DJ, I am so glad you are here.” Bridget pushed her chair back and stood. “You are well now?”

“No, she isn't. She should be home.” Amy stopped next to DJ. “She's weak as a newborn kitten.”

Some friend
, DJ thought.
If only she wasn't so right on
.

Chapter • 7

DJ poked Amy with her elbow. “The ‘weak' kitten still has claws.”

“All right, you two.” Bridget shook her head, the glasses she had pushed up on her forehead slipping down with the motion. “DJ, Mrs. Johnson insists she is ready to start training on Patches with your coaching.”

DJ groaned. “No, she isn't. Or he isn't.”

“I do not think so, either, but she insists and she could be right. She should know herself better than we do.”

“True, but I know Patches. And half the time Mrs. Johnson rushes and doesn't take time to put him on the hot walker, so he's just busting with energy when he starts out.”

“I've seen DJ on his neck,” Amy chimed in.

“And in the dirt.” DJ made a face. She pantomimed spitting out dirt.

“Mrs. Johnson will be here in a half hour. You want to put Patches on the hot walker now?”

“Right.” DJ kept the groan inside. Bridget frowned on grumbling and forbid excuses.

Bridget studied her notes. “Your three girls are doing very well. You can be proud of them.”

“Thanks.” A compliment from Bridget ranked up there with purple Grand Champion rosettes. “Anything else?”

“Yes, I might have another green broke horse coming in. She is about the same level as Patches was when you began with him. Would you be interested in taking her on?”

“Sure.” Even as she agreed, her mind went into speed mode.
That sure would help with the money situation
. But the cautious side of her mind responded,
Yeah, right, with all the extra time you have already
.

After they'd entered the tack room, Amy said, “That new horse is going to need an hour a day, at least in the beginning.” She swung her grooming bucket with one hand.

“I know.” DJ rubbed her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “But I need the money. I'm about broke again. Major needs shoes, and he's due for worming pretty soon.”

“Doesn't the Academy pay you next week?”

“Yeah, but it's never enough.”

DJ led a dancing Patches out to the hot walker and clipped him on. “See if you can behave today. Or I swear, I'll pound you into the ground.” Patches snorted, spraying her with bits of the horse cookie she had given him. “Yuck.”

Major sent her a big-time welcome, nickering and tossing his head. In the next stall, Ranger joined the party. Major leaned as far over the blue web gate as he could, his nostrils fluttering in a soundless nicker. When DJ wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, he rested his cheek against hers. “Hi, big guy.” Major sighed, a big sigh, and leaned on her shoulder. She rubbed up behind his ears and down his neck.

“I sure missed you.” She patted his shoulder and stepped back so she could dig his carrots out of the front pocket of her sweat shirt. While he munched, she retrieved the brushes from her bucket and set about grooming him. “I see your old dad's been here and cleaned out the stalls, huh?”

Major looked over his shoulder as if to agree.

“Sure wish we could ride now, but I have to give a lesson first. Probably should have ridden Patches before Mrs. Johnson gets him, but the hot walker will have to do.”

The thought bothered her. Maybe DJ
should
ride him first. If he got his training lesson, then he would be more willing—right? Against her personal desires, she dropped the brushes back in the bucket and, giving Major a last pat, headed for Patches' stall. She left the grooming bucket there and retrieved the horse from the hot walker.

“You better behave.”

Patches nosed her pockets for the treats he knew lived there.

She'd given him a half hour of drills by the time Mrs. Johnson arrived.

“Sorry I'm late,” she called from the railing around the covered ring. “You want me now?”

“Yes.” DJ stopped Patches in front of her. “We'll keep to the far end of the ring.” She watched Mrs. Johnson mount and settle herself in the Western saddle. “Now, remember, with Patches, you have to watch him every minute. He will test you every chance he gets.”

“I know. Boy, do I know.”

“Okay, let's see you walk, keeping fairly close to the rail. Walk on.”

To DJ's relief, Patches obeyed the entire lesson. He laid his ears back when ordered to back up, but other than that, the lesson was all DJ could have asked for.

“I have a favor to ask. Since I have an appointment on Thursday, is there any chance you could fit me in tomorrow afternoon? I'll try to get things straightened out by next week.”

DJ thought a moment. While it meant no riding time for her, other than her own lesson, she agreed. “Make sure you rub him down good. He works up a sweat trying to behave.” She gave the horse a pat on the neck. “Good going.”

Riding Major was like all good dreams rolled into one any time, but especially compared to Patches. DJ warmed her horse up slowly, still concerned about the leg he had injured in the landslide. But Major showed no sign of a limp and did all she asked with such willingness, she could have sent up skyrockets.

When she finished with him, her three girl students were lined up at the railing, waiting for her.

“He sure is smooth on the changes,” Samantha called, flipping her long red braid back over her shoulder. “You've been working hard.”

“We missed you,” Krissie said when DJ stopped in front of them. “You okay now?”

“Pretty much.” DJ ignored the twinges in her legs. How could muscles go so soft in only a week? “Sure hope you don't get the bug, Angie.”

“Me too,” the slender girl with big brown eyes replied. “Flu bugs and asthma don't mix too good.”

DJ swung open the gate, Major backing up so smoothly she got a wink from Sam.

“The day Soda here does that, I'll bring chocolate chip cookies for everybody.”

“Horses too?” Krissie nudged her horse through the gate.

“Yep.”

The three gigglers moved off together, sitting relaxed at the walk but with their horses alert and ready to work.

The memory of Bridget's compliment regarding this class gave DJ the boost of energy she needed all of a sudden. If she'd been walking, her knees might have melted down. Instead, she slumped in the saddle, then rotated her shoulders. Sucking in a deep breath, she called, “Okay, move into a jog, slow and easy. Keep the pace around the corners.”

She rode up by Angie. “More leg on the inside. Keep him on the rail. Krissie! What's with your shoulders?” The blonde straightened her back immediately. “Good, Sam. Can you feel his mouth?

“Come on, all of you, deeper in the saddle. Just because you're riding Western doesn't mean you don't use your seat as an aid, too.” All three had improved their backing skills since the last lesson. “Hey, did you know Bridget said you did really well?”

“Really?” The three girls exchanged surprised looks.

“She was tough,” Krissie said with a wrinkled nose.

“It's good for you.”

But as they filed out the open gate at the end of the lesson, Angie whispered, “We like you better.”

By the time Joe dropped her and her bicycle at home, even DJ's teeth hurt.

The house smelled good, like pasta for dinner.

“Hurry up, DJ, we're about ready to sit down,” her mother called from the dining room. “No, you boys sit here. DJ will be back in a minute.”

DJ groaned her way up the stairs. She wanted dinner about as much as she wanted breakfast right now. She switched into a pair of sweats, stuffed her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and stopped off at the bathroom to wash her hands.

During grace, she nearly dropped her chin in her plate. Chewing the sourdough French bread took all the energy she owned.

“May I please be excused?” she said, her plate only half empty. The conversation had been going on around her, but for the life of her, she had no idea what had been said.

“Not yet. As I said, we will be having family devotions every night after dinner.” Robert smiled across the table at her.

“Oh.” Anything more took too much effort. DJ stayed in her chair. They pushed their plates back, and Robert picked up his Bible.

DJ propped her chin on her hand and blinked a couple of times. Her eyelids wore fifty-pound weights.

“Tonight we will read from …”

DJ heard no more.

“Darla Jean, are you all right?” Lindy shook her daughter's shoulder.

“Huh?”

“You fell asleep at the table.” She felt DJ's forehead. “You're not warm.”

“Mom, Robert, I'm sorry. I can't remember when I've been this tired.”

“You shouldn't have gone to the Academy. I knew it!” Lindy tipped up her daughter's chin. “Look at those eyes.”

“Good night, DJ,” Robert said. “Come on, fellas. We'll read a story, then you get a bath.”

“Is DJ sick again?” one of them asked.

“If she isn't careful, she will be.”

“Sorry,” DJ muttered again, pushing back her chair. The stairs seemed fourteen stories tall. She never remembered hitting the bed.