Mistwalker

by Terri Farley

  All of a sudden Darby sat up straighter. Since her mother had said she had enough money to pay for her own Tahiti-to-Hawaii plane ticket, Darby hadn’t used her reward money. Maybe she could buy her dad a ticket to Hawaii!

  When Jonah knocked on her bedroom door, Darby jumped and looked around quickly. The hatboxes were under her bed. All she had to do was flop her bedspread over five pages that were the size of her hand. So she did.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Jonah the horse charmer took one look at her face and said, “What are you up to?”

  Darby shrugged her shoulders so high they almost grazed her earlobes.

  “Not schoolwork,” he said, but his eyes fixed on her notebooks.

  “I’m writing in my diary,” she admitted.

  Jonah nodded and his face took on such a faraway expression, Darby expected him to say, Your mother had a diary, but he didn’t.

  “I’m all ready for tomorrow,” Darby said.

  “What’s to get ready?” Jonah asked.

  Darby gestured at the wrinkle-free blouse and new jeans hanging on her closet door.

  “My mom always says you can’t go wrong with a white blouse and nice jewelry,” Darby said.

  “Oh, she does? Which jewelry are you wearing?”

  “Okay, so I’ve only got the white blouse,” Darby said, “but I thought she’d be so glad to see me, she’d let that pass.”

  Jonah stared at the window above her bed. When he spoke again, he pretty much confirmed he hadn’t been listening to her. “We’ll drive over, let people see you get a reward for your work tracking down Stormbird—that’s what Babe calls the colt you found, yeah?—and come home.”

  “And meet my mom there,” Darby said pointedly.

  Ellen’s plane from Tahiti had to stop on Oahu before it hopped over to Moku Lio Hihiu, but she should arrive with plenty of time to drive to Aunt Babe’s resort.

  Jonah knew all that, but he changed the subject, tilting his head in the direction of the living room.

  “Pretty exciting stuff on the news, yeah?”

  “Pretty exciting,” she echoed.

  “That Hoku, she stayed right by you.”

  “I know!” Darby didn’t mean to wrap her arms around herself in delight. It just happened.

  “It’s that Quarter Horse blood showin’ through,” Jonah teased.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s mustang loyalty to her herd. Me,” she told him.

  “You get some sleep. Big day tomorrow,” Jonah said.

  “Good night,” Darby called as her grandfather closed the door.

  She jumped up, brushed her teeth, put on her nightgown, and crawled into bed. But she wasn’t done for the night.

  She had to read the rest of her mom’s diary, because talking to Jonah had made her realize that as Ellen had grown into her teens, the one thing that kept her and Jonah together was horses.

  What if I could make that happen again? Darby asked herself. She thought she could, but first she had to figure out why Jonah had started keeping her mom home to do chores instead of letting her act.

  Darby kept reading, and though she didn’t find the answer, she discovered what her mom had done about it. To get back at Jonah, Ellen had quit riding.

  This is too depressing, Darby thought. She was about to tuck the pages back in the diary when she saw, “A wild stallion, a flash of silver and black under the candlenut tree, came to visit tonight. He was amazing—a horse made of starlight and black satin.”

  Darby repeated the words to herself. They sang through her like a magical spell.

  Then she sucked in a breath, got up on her knees, and looked out her bedroom window. She couldn’t see much through the glass reflection of her own face, but there was the candlenut tree, and right there she’d seen the Shining Stallion, which was probably Black Lava, coming to steal mares for his herd.

  She shivered. This was her mom’s old bedroom. Why hadn’t anyone told her?

  But that didn’t matter half as much as what happened next in the diary.

  “He came for Ebony,” Ellen had written in tiny letters. “A wild black-and-white paint stallion.”

  It could be a coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? What if the mare she’d just seen was descended from this creature of starlight and black satin?

  Keep reading.

  “…I let down the rails on Ebony’s pen. In the morning, I’ll run down before anyone else is awake and put them back up. I’m setting my alarm now. I know Ebony won’t run away, but if she has a foal by…”

  That was the end, the last line on the last page Darby had allowed herself to read. She read it over three times before she looked up in amazement.

  Never, not in a million years, would she have guessed her mother could be such a bad kid. Could Mom’s trick have created the mystery mare that I saw today?

  Darby bounced on her bed in frustration. She wanted to read more, but a deal was a deal, even if it was with your conscience.

  She turned off her bedside lamp before slipping out of bed and reaching underneath for the hatbox. She lifted the lid—careful not to feel around for the diary’s smooth cover, since that would be too tempting—and dropped the pages in.

  Moonlight streamed through Darby’s window. She still wasn’t sleepy, so she retrieved a book. They’d read a short story by Madeleine L’Engle in their literature textbook, and she’d liked it so much, she’d gone to the school library and checked out a novel by the writer.

  Curling on her side, Darby read.

  She was smiling as the book dropped from her hands, and the link she’d found to her mother, through her diary, comforted her. Her mom was coming. Tomorrow.

  Probably today, but she didn’t open her eyes to check the clock, and as Darby drifted to sleep, images of the black leather diary reshaped themselves into an aristocratic mare named Ebony, then shrank to a dancing foal, daughter of a black-and-silver stallion.

  It was four o’clock in the morning when Kimo’s truck rattled into the ranch yard. Then Darby heard Hoku’s neigh. She knew that sound by heart.

  “What’s wrong?” Darby slid off her bed and hit the floor, but she was up, walking and talking before her eyes opened.

  She managed to open her bedroom door, but collided with Jonah in the dark hallway.

  Her grandfather turned her around by her shoulders.

  “Go back to bed,” he told her. Chuckling, he walked behind her, steering her toward her warm blankets. “A few steers’ll be keepin’ an appointment at Hapuna harbor. The guys plan to get an early start before the roads are clogged with people coming to see you get your big money.”

  Darby heard a clang. Jonah must have bumped into the clothes hanger on her closet door holding her white blouse. She hoped it didn’t fall and get wrinkled, but she concentrated on finding that comfy spot on her pillow. Still, he’d said something about steers and money, and Hoku had called out a question, hadn’t she?

  “Huh?” Darby asked. “What’s happening?”

  “Kimo and Kit want to get back in time to come for Babe’s media luau….”

  Darby’s eyes opened for a second. She was pretty sure that wouldn’t make sense, even if she was wide awake.

  “And me, I’m up figurin’ how I can make enough from each shipment of cattle to pay Kimo and Kit half of what they’re worth….”

  She understood that, but she didn’t want to think about it. Not now.

  Megan bounced on Darby’s bed three hours later. “I can’t believe the phone didn’t wake you up. It’s rung like a million times!”

  “I was up late,” Darby explained. She pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her cheek, pretty sure she’d used the hardback book for a pillow. “The phone?”

  “I think everyone we know from school’s called to make sure our award ceremony is at eleven.”

  “Really? Like who?” Darby asked through a yawn.

  “Like everyone. Ann’s called twice, a bunch of people from the soccer team and
the swim team, and most of the neighbors.”

  “Okay,” Darby said, but then her heart did a double jump. Her mom could already be at the airport in Tahiti.

  “Want to know what I think?” Megan asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Half of them want to be our friends because we’re about to be rich, and the other half want a look at your mom, the celebrity.”

  “Have you already been for a run?” Darby asked, noticing that Megan wore sweats and carried a water bottle.

  Megan usually stayed in bed until her mother shook her awake for school.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Megan said. She prowled the perimeter of Darby’s room, but she didn’t touch anything.

  And that, Darby thought, was one of the traits that made Megan such a good friend. She might be nosy, but she wasn’t pushy about it.

  Darby stood up, took a deep breath, leaned over, and touched her toes, then flipped her long black hair back like a mane.

  “Better,” she said. “I’m awake.”

  “Is this what you’re wearing?” Megan stood in front of the white shirt and new jeans. “Where did you get this cool necklace?”

  “Yeah, it’s what I’m wearing,” Darby said hesitantly. “But what necklace?” She didn’t take a step closer. “The last time you talked to me about a necklace it was haunted or cursed or something.”

  “Stop it,” Megan said, and though she was turned away and Darby couldn’t see her face, she could hear the smile in her voice.

  With delicate moves, Megan lifted a fine chain from the hanger and dangled it.

  A winged gold heart the size of Darby’s little fingernail swung back and forth before her eyes.

  Chapter Five

  “It’s beautiful, but it’s not mine,” Darby said, taking the necklace from Megan.

  Then she recalled Jonah asking which jewelry she’d wear with the white blouse. And her mind replayed the hanger’s clang when Jonah steered her back to bed at four A.M.

  Megan took off her baseball cap, shook her hair loose, and waited for Darby to go on.

  “Well, I guess it could be,” Darby admitted. A heart with wings, though. She wasn’t sure she understood. “Do you think Jonah gave it to me?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Megan said. Tilting her head back, she drank the last of her water, then flashed an innocent smile. “I mean, you got your last jewelry from ancient ghosts.”

  “You know that still creeps me out,” Darby said. “And I think that’s something we won’t share with my mom, if you don’t mind.”

  Darby ran through her chores as fast as possible, but when she got back to Sun House, she could already hear Megan’s hair dryer whining upstairs.

  Hurry, she told herself. You’ve got to look great.

  When she made it to the kitchen, she had every intention of just pouring a bowl of cereal and shoveling it down while standing at the counter.

  “I need bigger calves,” Jonah said. He and Aunty Cathy were dawdling over coffee as if it were an ordinary day. “I can’t afford to ship them to the mainland for fattening, but this hippie grass-fed beef thing…”

  What? Wasn’t all beef grass fed?

  Hurry. Don’t listen to Jonah. Don’t get into conversations that will make you late.

  “Jonah, grass-fed beef is healthier,” Aunty Cathy was saying.

  “For cows or humans?”

  “Both.” Aunty Cathy looked serious. “And if there’s one thing we have plenty of, it’s grass. Besides,” she added with a grin, “no one on earth would mistake you for a hippie.”

  Jonah’s frown kept Darby from thanking him for the necklace. Besides, it could have been from Aunty Cathy. Even Megan could have slipped it in there and pretended to know nothing about it.

  Why didn’t she just ask? All at once, Darby realized her fingers felt cold. Before she’d come to Hawaii, that had only happened when she’d felt really unsure. On the verge of timid.

  Darby blamed a combination of hurry and worry.

  Vowing to shake off these feelings, she said the first thing that came into her head: “Did you ever have any paint horses?”

  Before he answered, Jonah’s eyes shifted toward the hallway. Something in the glance made Darby sure the necklace had been from him. But now he was answering her.

  “If you mean your Tutu’s Prettypaint, that mare’s papers say she’s a gray.” He gave a long, dubious shrug. “I can’t claim I’m unhappy to have her out of my sight, though.”

  “I think she’s a beautiful horse.” Aunty Cathy shot Darby a conspiratorial look.

  “Me too,” Darby said, but she hadn’t been thinking of Prettypaint. She’d been picturing teenage Ellen, Ebony, a black-and-silver stallion, and the horse that had come to visit, just yesterday.

  Darby took down a bowl and a box of cereal, then asked, “Don’t you like paints?”

  “Have I mentioned this is a Quarter Horse ranch? Seems like I did.” Jonah used a knuckle to smooth one side of his mustache in mock concentration. “No wild kanaka stock from Crimson Vale or Sky Mountain, no blue-blooded Arabians, Thoroughbreds, Morgans, big-as-a-truck Friesians, or anything else.”

  “Okay,” Darby said, trying not to spill the milk she was pouring.

  “Just Quarter Horses. The registry won’t accept paints, so I’m careful with my bloodlines.” He glared at Aunty Cathy when she cleared her throat. “I’d never have one, and if some throwback popped up, I’d sell it.”

  Her mom had gone for revenge in a big way, then, Darby thought, but it didn’t sound like she’d achieved it.

  Darby finished her cereal just as Jonah started out of the kitchen and she was quick enough to catch him before he left the house.

  “Thanks for the necklace,” she said.

  Her grandfather’s wry smile said he wasn’t surprised she’d read him like she did horses.

  “It was just rattling around in a drawer,” he said with a shrug, “but you’re welcome.”

  “I really like it,” she added.

  “It’s just a reminder,” he said. The sun lines in Jonah’s face turned downward as he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Your Hawaiian heart will always want to fly home.”

  Darby swallowed hard. Afraid she might cry if she tried to answer, she nodded over and over again until Jonah winked at her.

  He left and she looked after him, but she was in such a hurry to get ready for the celebration, it was half an hour later, as she was blow-drying her hair, that Darby wondered why Jonah would have that pretty necklace just rattling around in a drawer.

  Sugar Sands Cove Resort was crowded with cars.

  Darby’s friend Ann Potter waved as her father motioned Coach Roffmore into a parking space ahead of him. Miss Day swooped her bright yellow Volkswagen into a spot the coach had just given up on, and Jonah muttered in thanks when a hotel employee pointed out a place Aunt Babe had blocked off for Jonah, Cathy, Cade, Megan, and Darby.

  “My guests of honor,” Babe called. Her steps were rushed, and the rustling crush of a long white taffeta dress banded at the waist with a sash that matched her mango lipstick announced with every move that she was the hostess.

  After Babe kissed all ten of their cheeks, she complimented her brother’s paniolo finery and said, “You won’t be sorry about those horses.”

  “We’ll see,” Jonah grumbled, but he kissed her cheeks in return.

  Darby felt her eyes grow wide. That must mean Jonah had accepted Aunt Babe’s gift of cremello horses, as an incentive to allow her guests to ride on ‘Iolani Ranch. Guest riders would mean more money, but she had trouble picturing Jonah as a gracious host.

  Aunt Babe escorted them into the hotel instead of allowing them to head toward the corral full of cremello horses, where a small stage had been erected.

  Inside, there were white floors, mirrored walls, and transparent modern lamps filled with candles. Hotel guests twittered like excited birds, talking to reporters and each other as they savored the tropical perfumes of
frangipani, ginger, and upright floral spears called birds-of-paradise.

  “Watch your step.” Aunt Babe pointed at cords snaking across the lobby floor. “We’ve got press everywhere.”

  Darby gazed after Aunty Cathy and Jonah as they stopped to talk to Kimo and an older man with sun-pleated skin and white hair. He must be Kimo’s dad, Darby thought. Neck loaded with maile leis, he grinned and spoke in rapid-fire pidgin.

  As he gestured, Darby noticed he was missing a finger. Was it really from a roping accident? Jonah and Kimo had told her, but Darby’s head was spinning and she couldn’t remember.

  Deserted by her mother, Megan looked a little nervous, and that made Darby even more uneasy.

  “We don’t have to talk, do we?” Megan asked Aunt Babe. “We’ll just sit in the crowd, the audience or whatever, with everyone else, then—”

  “The chairs on the stage are for you,” Aunt Babe explained.

  “So, we’ll just sit there and stand when you read off our names, but you’ll do the talking?” Darby crossed all her fingers.

  “Oh, no.” Aunt Babe wagged a manicured nail. “This is small-town excitement at its best. But fun and wonderful publicity. Word’s traveled about you brave kids, and the phone’s still ringing. You three are going to sing for your supper.”

  “I can’t sing,” Cade insisted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “It’s just an expression,” Darby told him. It would be rude to guess that Babe was reminding them publicity for the resort had been part of the agreement when they’d begun searching for the lost colt. Still, she turned to her great-aunt and said, “But if you really meant that, I’d skip supper.”

  Maybe Megan remembered she was the oldest, and, seeing there was no way out of this, she asked, “What do you want us to do?”

  A movement outside caught Darby’s attention. Mrs. Martindale and a man with salt-and-pepper hair, probably her husband, were waving, and Mark Larson, the TV reporter, was trying to get Aunt Babe’s attention.