Water Lily (4 page)

Hoku drooled carrot juice on Darby's arm, took the final offering, and chewed calmly, watching as
Darby slipped outside the corral to rejoin Megan.

“Nice work,” she praised Darby, giving her a little shove to urge her into a jog. “You really settled her down.”

Darby glanced back over her shoulder. “Will she worry if I'm out of sight and there's more thunder?”

“I'm not sure,” Megan admitted. “But I doubt you'll have such an easy time settling
Jonah
down, if we don't get to work.”

The next clap of thunder came when Darby was halfway to the pigpen. She heard Hoku bolt around her corral and called back, “It's okay, girl. No big deal.”

She tried to keep her voice reassuring despite Megan's impatience. Without speaking, Megan made a quick jerk of her chin, hinting they should keep creeping away, and they did.

Darby recalled seeing her dad's new wife, Angel, slowly easing out of the room when one of her fussy babies was finally starting to fall asleep. Something in this silent departure reminded her of that.

 

The rainstorm arrived just as Megan and Darby rolled the last of the large barrels into position near the tack room and stood it up.

Since they hadn't asked for details on how they'd get the water from the barrels to the troughs, they set them near the dog kennel, Hoku's corral, and the tack room, figuring they could siphon the water into the troughs.

“This ought to do it,” Megan shouted to be heard over the drumming rain.

The downpour took only seconds to soak Darby's hair. Streams coursed down her ponytail and into the neck of her shirt while rain dripped daintily off Megan's yellow hood.

Darby's jeans clung like a coarse second skin, making her step stiff-legged as she and Megan walked past the bunkhouse.

Kit and Cade must have been inside, because lamplight and the sound of Kit strumming a guitar floated into the night, making the bunkhouse feel warm and cozy.

Darby was shivering, hoping she could commandeer Sun House's only bathroom for a warm, deep bath, when she heard Sass barking in the lower pasture.

The bunkhouse door opened. A rectangle of light turned the raindrops gold and made Darby and Megan squint up at Cade.

“Sounds like Sass has something cornered,” he said.

“Can you
hear
in the dark, too?” Megan teased Cade, since he was known for his ability to see in almost nonexistent light.

“When it goes on without letup like that, who couldn't?” Cade asked.

He'd already pulled on his dark green poncho and tugged his hala hat down to cover his hair by the time
Darby realized he planned to go see what had the dog so excited.

He stepped outside into the darkness and rain, then whistled.

“Y
ou're not really going down there, are you?” Megan asked.

Cade's smile said he planned to do just that.

“Kit 'n' me drew lots and I lost,” Cade said, “but I'm hopin' Sass comes to me with the rest of the dogs, so I
don't
have to go down there.”

“I know Sass is good with horses,” Megan said, “but he'll also hunt anything that lives in a burrow.”

Whatever Sass was after didn't fascinate the other dogs. His barking went on in the lower pasture, as three other Australian shepherds—Peach, Jack, and Jill—came skittering through the mud, swirling around Cade's legs in answer to his whistle.

“Oh!” Megan blurted, remembering her mother's
message. “Mom said to tell you she'll check for news of Dee when she goes into town tomorrow.” Megan pulled the sides of the yellow hood away from her eyes as though she wanted a better view of how her words affected Cade.

But Cade didn't look at Megan and his expression was blank when he glanced at Darby. She gave her head a faint shake, assuring him she hadn't been gossiping about him, his mother, or the state of their house, before Cade had had a chance to talk to Jonah.

Megan shifted, waiting for Cade to respond.

Say something,
Darby silently willed him. But Cade didn't.

“Hey,” Megan began.

“Did you hear that?” Cade asked.

“Did you hear
me
?” Megan insisted.

Just then Bart pulled himself up the grassy hillside and into the light. Panting, he rolled on the ground in front of Cade.

“I'm not scratching that muddy belly,” Cade said.

Megan turned toward Darby with an expression that said she thought both Cade and Bart were adorable, but she didn't want them to know it.

Darby liked Cade fine. He'd proven he'd be there for her if things got tough, and she tried to be there for him, since she considered him half brother and half friend.

But Megan liked Cade in a different way. They weren't quite boyfriend and girlfriend, but Darby
figured they were headed in that direction.

“I heard,” Cade said finally. “Please tell your mom thanks.” Cade looked away from them both, toward the incessant barking. “I'll give him a few more minutes.”

“And then—”

Cade's second whistle interrupted Megan's sentence, but she kept on, hands on hips.

“—what? You're not going to go down there—”

“I'll lock up the rest of 'em first.”

Cade walked toward the kennel with the dogs trailing him.

Muttering and shaking her head, Megan strode toward Sun House.

Falling into step beside her, Darby said, “I guess that's his job.”

The rain and wind had slacked off and the night felt warm, but Megan made a wide gesture that took in the darkness and said, “It's not even safe.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before they heard a whine, and Sass came trotting down the dirt road toward them.

“You sure took your time,” Megan reproached the dog.

“Are we glad to see you,” Darby greeted him.

Sass stopped a few feet away. Head high, tail straight up like an exclamation point, he barked directly at them.

“We're not going down there to crawl into muddy
holes with you,” Darby said.

Shivering despite his persistent barking, the wet dog needed care. It only took Megan one glance to know what to do.

“Keep him here. I'll go get a towel.” Megan darted away.

Darby tried to do as she'd been told, but Sass wouldn't come close enough for her to touch him, let alone get a grip on his collar or ruff.

He trotted back down the road, whining. He wanted her to follow him. When she wouldn't, he grew frustrated, and his barks turned into high-pitched yapping.

“Here to me,” Megan ordered as she came back out of the house with a towel.

Sass stood in the beam from the front porch light, hesitating. He was not allowed to disobey a direct command, but he bounced in mock playfulness, trying once more to get someone to follow him.

“Sass.” Megan lowered her voice in a pretty good imitation of Jonah's. “Here. To. Me.”

Eyes reproachful and tongue lolling, he went to Megan. He let himself be toweled off, but whined the entire time. Once he was dry, Megan inspected the dog from paw pads to the tips of his blue merle ears.

“You're not hurt,” she informed him.

At the clang of the kennel gate, Sass pounced down the road a few feet and made a last plea with a yodeling sound.

“The thing is, we don't want to go hunt squirmy things,” Megan said. Her slicker crinkled as she crossed her arms.

With a huff of surrender, Sass wagged his lowered tail and trotted off toward Cade and the other dogs.

 

It was morning before Darby gave Sass another thought.

Jonah's voice invaded her dreams. “You go on down with Cade. See about that colt.”

Darby sat up in bed and used both hands to push curtains of black hair away from her face.

“What?” she asked.

“You heard me.”

Boots clomped down the hall, the front door closed, and her grandfather was gone.

Darby stared at her bedside clock. Six thirty. Okay. She hadn't expected to sleep late even if school was canceled. The pasture fence had to be finished for the cremellos. The Agricultural Department of Whatever people would probably show up to enforce the new regulation….

All at once Jonah's words soaked into her brain….
go on down with Cade. See about that colt….

Darby's feet hit the floor. For a bleary minute, she wondered why there were no ready-to-wear jeans on her bedroom floor. But they were wet, of course, tossed into the laundry room. She opened a drawer, grabbed fresh jeans, a bright green T-shirt, and socks.

As she walked toward the front door, it dawned on Darby that Sass hadn't been after vermin last night. He'd been trying to tell them something was wrong down in the broodmare pasture.

Judging from what Jonah had just said, at least Cade had listened.

Once she'd pulled on her socks and boots, Darby bolted out of Sun House. She was looking down, concentrating on winding an elastic around her hair as she walked, and nearly collided with Jonah.

He was leading Navigator. The big brown Quarter Horse was trying to outpace his master, heading toward Darby as if he hadn't seen her in months, even though they'd gone on a long ride just yesterday.

Jonah didn't think the gelding's eagerness was at all cute, and he let the horse know by making a shh-ing sound. Navigator fell into place behind him. Just the same, Jonah stopped and made Navigator back up a few steps before he allowed him to go forward.

Discipline was an every-hour-of-every-day thing on this ranch, but the reprimand didn't keep Navigator from watching Darby approach and it didn't stop Darby from appreciating the horse all over again.

Navigator had selected Darby as his person on the day she'd arrived at ‘Iolani Ranch.

He was the first horse she'd ridden in her entire life. That would have earned him a place in her heart, Darby thought, even if he hadn't been the perfect beginner mount for her.

“Shouldn't I do my chores first?” she asked when her grandfather and Navigator reached her.

“I'll get them started. You need to see what a colicky horse looks like.”

As she took the reins, her grandfather's promise that she'd take over the ranch one day replayed in her mind. Recognizing what was wrong with a sick colt was a single fact among the millions she'd have to learn if that dream could really come true.

And, though she wanted to know which colt, and what colic was, she didn't ask. Another fact she'd already learned was her grandfather's probable response to those questions. Jonah would cross his arms and ask why she didn't just go see for herself.

“Don't look so scared,” Jonah said. “I'll send Kit out when he comes back from checking the cattle in Upper Sugar Mill, or if Kimo ever shows up, I'll come myself.”

Kimo was often late, but she was surprised he'd fail to show up when there was so much to do. Still, Darby didn't comment on Kimo's shortcomings. She just lifted one shoulder in a shrug, like the guys did.

Next, she led Navigator to a side hill so that she could reach his left stirrup without hopping around trying to stab her boot toe through it with Jonah watching. Luck was with her on her first try; she swung into the saddle with ease.

Smiling, she reined Navigator back toward Jonah and asked, “How long's Cade been down there?”

“Since about three,” Jonah said. “Sass dug out of the kennel. Surprised you didn't hear the others tellin' on him.”

“Me, too,” Darby began.

“So, you waiting for an invitation to ride down there?” Jonah asked.

“No,” she said. “See ya later.”

 

Darby's mind spun as she put Navigator into a trot.

Colic.
She'd heard the term before, but she was pretty sure it had been used about babies. Colic affected the stomach, didn't it? And hadn't she read that horses were physically incapable of throwing up?

She reined Navigator to the right and set him on the trail that zigzagged down the hillside to the pastures below.

Darby picked out the pink-roan coat of Megan's horse, Tango. She saw the elegant dappled gray named Lady Wong and, patrolling the pasture called Borderland, she spotted Kanaka Luna. The bay stallion pranced and tossed his rippling black mane, showing off for Navigator and Darby, informing them he was king of all he surveyed.

But Darby barely noticed Luna's display. She was wondering if colts died from colic.

The day was so bright, Darby squinted against the sun, then ducked a little, trying to avoid the breeze carrying dew drops from the tree leaves.

The broodmares stood with their tails to the rain
and their foals tucked against their sides. Some of the babies whinnied fretfully. It was June. Summer was on its way. Their growing muscles told them to romp and race, but a stronger message kept them near the grown horses.

The mares swished their tails. They strayed no more than a body length from one another, and they stood in the shade instead of the warm sunlight, staying near Blue Ginger and her foal, forming a wall between those two and Joker, who was ground-tied nearby.

At least that's what it looked like to Darby. Which was weird, because the mares knew Cade's Appaloosa gelding.

They must have sensed something was wrong.

Cade wasn't astride his black-splattered gray horse. Instead he stood with Blue Ginger's foal. Cade had made a sling of his arms to hold—Blue Moon, that was his name!—up on his feet.

Cade looked worn-out. Once his eyes found Darby, he was too weary to move his gaze elsewhere.

“You've been at this a while,” Darby called to him.

He nodded. Darby lifted her reins and clucked at Navigator. The gelding lengthened his stride, taking her toward Cade, the blue roan, and her foal.

Despite Cade's grip, the little horse's head was down and moving back and forth in a strange way. One tiny front hoof pawed the ground and patches of sweat marked his light brown coat.

Darby dismounted, left Navigator ground-tied near Joker, and walked slowly up to Cade.

“Can I have a turn?” she asked.

Cade started to refuse, but weariness won out, because he nodded and Darby's disappointment turned to trepidation.

“Just tell me how,” Darby said.

“Put your arms in front of or behind mine. Then, when I take my arms away, move 'em where mine were.”

Darby did, but when Cade's arms relinquished the foal to her, she gave a grunt of surprise.

“Heavier than he looks, yeah?” Cade asked.

“Yeah,” Darby said, but she didn't care. She was overcome with tenderness for the little heart beating against her wrists.

The foal's head whipped around and at first she thought he might rake her with his bared teeth, but he just rubbed his face against her arm.

This close, Darby could see white hair sprinkled through Blue Moon's fawn-colored coat. She wondered if he'd be roan or buckskin or bay like his father, when he grew up. She hoped she had the opportunity to find out.

“Poor baby,” Darby crooned to the foal.

“He's doing better,” Cade said. “We just need to keep him moving.”

“Do
you
think it's colic?” Darby asked.

“I'm not so—hey, great. Here comes Kit.”

The buckaroo rode in from the direction of the cattle herds, black Stetson pulled low over his eyes. He rode a half-trained grulla named Conch, and the broodmares were anything but happy to see the gelding's excitement.

“No ground-tying for you,” Kit said. He balanced in his left stirrup, accustoming the gelding to the fact that he was dismounting before climbing down.

The considerate and experienced move made Darby feel better already, though her arms trembled from the foal's weight.

The mares fretted as Kit led Conch closer, but they trusted the cowboy and allowed him and the gelding through.

People often mistook Kit for a native Hawaiian because of his straight black hair, but he was really half Shoshone, a Native American from Nevada. He was a former rodeo rider who had smashed up one wrist in a rodeo fall. It was enough to end his rodeo career, although he was still amazing with horses. One of his rodeo pals, a guy named Pani, had helped Kit get the foreman's job at the ranch.

Darby couldn't have explained why she thought Kit was worried. He wasn't frowning and he didn't really look ill at ease, but she could tell something was wrong.

“Haven't seen Kimo, I s'pose,” he said as he squatted to look the foal over without touching him.

“No,” Darby and Cade said together.

Kit kept one rein in his hand. His other hand touched the turquoise rock on his leather string necklace.