by Terri Farley
She started out petting an old bay gelding named Judge, then ended up hugging him.
He gave a low huh, huh, huh sound, almost a chuckle, and a sidelong glance told Darby that Hoku was watching.
Darby reached in her pocket, extracted a single ‘ohelo berry, and fed it to Judge. This caught the interest of several horses, but only Hoku felt entitled to walk up to Darby and investigate.
Darby’s heartbeat accelerated. It wasn’t easy to stay with Judge instead of running to her filly to say she was sorry. But she did it, weaving her fingers through Judge’s coarse black mane, working out tangles as she found them.
Let her come to you, she thought. She pretended to be oblivious to Hoku’s slow, curious advance.
“Judge, when you were born in a barn in Nevada, did you ever think you’d end up here? Neither did I.”
Darby fed Judge another berry and petted his muzzle. Hoku was so close, Darby could feel the heat quaking from the mustang’s body.
“But I don’t think we’ll talk to her just yet, do you, Judge? You’ve been the good boy all along, and you deserve—”
In the next second Darby was bounced off her feet. Hoku rubbed her face on Darby’s back so roughly she pushed her forward, and Darby fell against Judge.
Darby turned and looked at Hoku. She didn’t care that it was a push. Hoku was paying attention to her again!
“Don’t let her do that to you!” Jonah yelled sternly. She whirled around to see him across the pasture, sitting on Kona, watching.
Without even asking, she knew from things he’d said in the past why he was correcting her so firmly. Hoku was treating her as if she were another horse. That wouldn’t lead in the direction they needed to go for training. They could be friends, but Darby had to be the one in charge.
“No,” she told Hoku, hoping to sound firm, but not harsh. “Don’t push me.”
Hoku stared back, her brown eyes glittering with confusion. She whinnied nervously, champing her jaws.
“Be nice,” Darby said mildly. She reached into her pocket, about to offer a handful of berries, but she was too slow.
Hoku had already whirled around, angrily offering her rear view.
Darby longed to soothe her horse’s wounded pride with kind words, stroke her neck, and hand-feed her, but she was too aware of Jonah’s watchful eyes.
He wouldn’t approve of her kissing up to her own horse, and no matter how much she hated it, he was right.
As she walked away, Darby heard Hoku begin pacing, puffing with agitated breaths. Please follow me, Darby thought with silent desperation.
But the sound of Hoku’s movements became more distant, and with a sinking heart Darby realized Hoku was not only not following her, but putting distance between them.
Darby continued walking in Jonah’s direction for almost two minutes before she couldn’t stand it any longer and sneaked a quick peek over her shoulder.
Two minutes must have been as long as either of them could stand, because when she glanced back, she caught Hoku looking over her own shoulder. Their eyes met, and then they both turned away.
Darby couldn’t help it: She heard hoofbeats and, once more, with her heart aching, she turned back again, longing to see Hoku running toward her.
But the sorrel mustang was running in the opposite direction, away from her and toward the herd of tame horses, where she knew exactly who she was and how to act.
Chapter Thirteen
If it had been up to her, Darby would have slept in the next morning.
But no one slept late on a ranch. She had Pigolo’s pen to clean, water troughs to scrub, and rodeo skills to practice.
Plus, if she got up now, she could play with Pigolo and Francie. Since she’d taken over their feeding, she’d also been their main playmate. It was so easy to make them happy. When she scratched Pigolo just above his tail, his closed mouth curved into a smile. When no one was watching she let Francie suck a bit of her shirttail, and the timid goat gazed up at her with adoring eyes.
Darby’s feet had just hit her bedroom floor when she heard tires rattle over the cattle guard down by the highway. A really big vehicle crunched along the gravel road. Finally the tires stopped in front of Sun House, and Darby heard the yank of a hand brake.
Peach led the dogs’ barking welcome, and Darby looked out her bedroom window.
The candlenut tree hid the vehicle, but she heard voices. Kit, she thought, and maybe Cricket.
Darby pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, but she didn’t take the time to brush her hair into a ponytail. If Cricket was here, it meant news. Darby couldn’t wait to find out if it was good or bad.
When she opened the front door, still in her bare feet, Darby saw Cricket leaning on the hood of a big truck, talking to Kit. A four-horse trailer was hooked on behind.
Darby didn’t hear shifting hooves or anything that indicated there were horses inside. What she did notice was that Cricket looked more relaxed than anytime Darby had ever seen her.
Darby wasn’t really eavesdropping, but when Cricket said, “Black Lava,” Darby didn’t miss it.
“What about Black Lava?”
She sprinted about six steps toward Cricket and Kit before tiny pebbles poked her into slowing down and choosing where to put her tender feet.
Kit and Cricket looked only a little surprised by the interruption.
“Somebody has big ears,” Cricket said with a smile.
“Sorry—Ow.” Darby stopped and lifted each bare foot to brush off its sandy sole. “But, you know…I’m really interested.”
That was an understatement, and they all knew it, but Cricket just nodded. “I know. Here’s what’s up: Black Lava and his herd tried to take a shortcut through Hapuna this morning.”
“What?” Darby gasped. The black stallion had run in a different direction this time. He must be getting even more desperate.
“Luckily, the pastor of a church on the outskirts of town is an early bird. He was just driving into the chapel lot when he saw them moving through the mist. He said it gave him quite a shock, since he’d prepared a sermon on the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse—”
“I forget,” Kit interrupted. “Do they bring the end of the world or something?”
“Were the horses okay?” Darby asked at the same time.
“No—I mean, yes. Wait, let me just…” Cricket gestured for both of them to let her talk. “The pastor spotted them drinking from a park fountain and decided they were just wandering horses. So he got back in his car, blew his horn, and drove slowly after them, herding them back toward Sky Mountain.”
Darby swallowed hard. Things were getting worse instead of better.
“Cheer up,” Cricket told her. She touched the temples of her glasses and set them straight. “The bad times are almost over for Black Lava and his herd.”
“Really?”
“The Wildlife Conservancy finally called me back. Their biologist went out with the Health Department guys and tested the water. Rain from the last few storms has improved the quality of the water in Crimson Vale. It’s now potable.”
“That means it’s drinkable?” Darby checked.
“Yep,” Kit said.
“Yes!” Darby shot her arm into the air, and her excitement set the dogs barking again.
Kit and Cricket laughed. “Would you like to ride with us to bring Black Lava’s herd home?” Cricket asked.
“Are you kidding?” Darby yelped. “So that’s what the trailer’s for? We’re all going?”
“I had a feeling you’d say yes, and I thought Jonah or Megan might want to come, too. And if you’d like to have Ann come along, we could use another strong rider.”
“Definitely,” Darby agreed. “But, hey, Cricket?”
Shyness closed in on Darby, but Cricket didn’t rush her. She just raised her eyebrows.
“I know rescuing animals is what you do and all, but if you hadn’t kept bugging the conservancy,” Darby said, “who knows what could have happened?
Thanks so much.”
Cricket shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“She’s pretty good at this stuff,” Kit said, and Cricket blushed.
“I’ll go tell Megan and call Ann, okay?”
Darby had sprinted halfway back to Sun House when Kit shouted, “Meet us back here at ten.”
“We’ll trailer the horses up to the drop-off and ride in from there,” Cricket added.
“Okay,” Darby said, then made a shaka sign in their direction, and kept running until she reached the front door.
Since she smelled pancakes, Darby expected to see Aunty Cathy, but when she bounded in to make her announcement, Megan sat alone, eating pancakes while she read a mystery novel.
Darby skidded into the kitchen, coming to rest with one hip against the table.
“Guess who gets to help escort Black Lava and his herd back to Crimson Vale?” Darby asked.
“Me!” Megan shouted.
“Maybe,” Darby teased, then repeated the news Cricket had just told her.
“This’ll be such good practice for the herding events at the rodeo. Too bad Cade went to Dee’s place last night to help her patch the roof.”
“At least the three of us can practice,” Darby said.
She dialed Ann’s number. While she waited for someone to answer, Darby rolled up a pancake, then bit a piece off. She watched Megan carry her plate to the sink and wash it, eager to get going.
After ten rings, Darby hung up the phone.
“No one’s there,” she told Megan. “Speaking of that, it’s awfully quiet around here, too. Where is everybody?”
“It’s Kimo’s day off. I told you about Cade, and my mom and Jonah went to church.”
Darby thought that over for a minute. It wasn’t going to church that surprised her; it was the break in the ranch’s routine.
“Mom just left me a note,” Megan said as she headed for the front door. “I’m going to change. Be right back.”
Most Sundays in Pacific Pinnacles, Darby and her mom had gone to church. Darby’s favorite part had been singing hymns with neat old words and lots of verses. She’d hold the right side of the hymnal while her mother held the left and they’d both have fun singing together.
Weird, Darby thought suddenly. She’d never felt like a terrible singer in church.
Since she’d been at ‘Iolani Ranch, no one had driven into town to any church.
She kept wondering what had changed as she tried reaching Ann again.
Just as she was about to hang up, Ann’s father answered. He sounded breathless.
“Did you call before?” he asked. “Sorry. I was helping Ann and Ramona get off on a trail ride.”
“Ann’s gone?” Darby asked. Her friend would be so sad she’d missed the chance to ride with the wild horses.
“Yep,” Ann’s dad said. “They’re workin’ the kinks outta Sugarfoot. Or tryin’ to.”
Darby didn’t leave a message. Ann would hear what she’d missed soon enough.
Still, Darby thought as she hurried to her room to change into riding clothes, it was possible that Ann and her mother would ride in the same direction. Darby crossed her fingers and hoped so.
Cricket was on her cell phone, talking to another volunteer rider, when Megan and Darby came back outside.
“Pinwheel’s a super mare, but we’re taking all geldings. Believe me, you don’t want to ride a mare into the territory of two warring stallions,” Cricket was saying as Darby and Megan passed by.
They were ready to jump on the four-wheeler and go down to the pasture to catch Conch and Navigator when they saw Biscuit tied to a ring at the tack room, and Kit leaning against the corral fence, watching Medusa.
The steeldust mare stood on the far side of her corral. Head lowered, she glared at Kit through her black forelock.
“At least she’s looking at you,” Darby said. She couldn’t help thinking of Hoku’s tail-turning trick.
Kit shook his head slowly. “It’s the way she’s lookin’ that’s got me a mite jumpy.”
Darby and Megan both laughed until Medusa began trotting. Kit pointed and said, “Now watch this.”
Medusa looked like a windup toy as she circled the corral. Her glare was gone. She didn’t look left or right, or notice when she passed the three humans.
“That doesn’t look healthy,” Megan said. “I mean, like, mentally healthy.”
“She reminds me of a caged zoo animal,” Darby said.
“That’s just what I thought,” Kit said. He pushed back from the fence and began saddling Biscuit. “Maybe a break from my staring will help.”
Then Kit glanced at the four-wheeler. “While you’re down there, could you get Navigator for Cricket?”
Darby caught her breath, but Megan elbowed her, so she just said, “Sure.”
Megan drove the four-wheeler and Darby sat behind with the lead ropes.
After they’d started, Darby leaned forward and said, “I wanted to ride Navigator.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Megan shouted.
Of course Megan was kidding, but it didn’t make Darby feel better. “I really only trust Navigator around wild horses,” she said.
“You should be riding Baxter for rodeo practice, anyway. I’m riding Conch,” Megan pointed out.
“That’s not the same thing.” Darby held tight as Megan hit a bump in the trail.
“Cade worked with him for hours yesterday. Baxter will do fine,” Megan shouted.
“I hope so,” Darby said, and when Conch, Navigator, and Baxter surged toward the pasture fence at the sight of the girls, Darby was comforted by their eagerness.
The horses were haltered and trotting behind the four-wheeler in minutes, and Darby felt proud to be holding the lead ropes of three beautiful horses. The blue roan, grulla, and coffee-brown Quarter Horses were eager for work.
“Reporting for duty, huh, guys?” she shouted to them, and when six ears slanted forward to listen, Darby was happy all over again that she lived on this ranch.
The horses were saddled and loaded by ten o’clock, and since the truck had an extended cab, Megan and Darby sat in back.
As Kit pulled the trailer slowly down the road, he said, “I hope Jonah and Cathy’re home soon. I don’t like to leave my mare alone. She’s likely to do something loco.”
“Kit, I can handle this without you,” Cricket said. “I told you that. I’ve got these two, and three volunteers. Add me in and that’s six riders.”
Megan and Darby stayed quiet. Kit and Cricket weren’t really arguing, but Kit clearly wanted to be in two places at the same time.
When Kit stopped the truck at the drop-off on the road below the Two Sisters volcanoes, Darby shivered. It was a six-mile climb to the very top, but no one was allowed up that high. Riding or walking beyond the stone trees was kapu.
Darby’s shiver turned into an idea. Her gaze traveled up the slope to Two Sisters.
When she and Ann had ridden up here with Jonah, just the day before yesterday, they hadn’t seen the stone trees. They’d veered west, toward the marsh.
Darby covered her eyes, hoping she could focus better that way. She heard doors slamming and Megan bumped her shoulder, but she had to think about the first time she’d come up here with Megan and Ann.
It had been the night before and the day of the eruption. But why was that important to finding Black Lava?
“Everybody’s getting ready to go. We’re the only ones sitting around,” said Megan, who still sat beside Darby in the truck’s cab. “Are you okay?”
Darby took her hands away from her eyes and tried for a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine, but remember when we were up here before?”
“No, Darby,” Megan said, “almost getting buried alive in hot lava is such an everyday thing for me—” Megan broke off her sarcasm. “You have this hypnotized look in your eyes. I’m used to it, but you might freak out the volunteers.”
Darby opened her mouth to answer Megan, but she
kept remembering the steep terrain, one lava rock formation that looked like lion’s paws, and another that looked like a stone pulpit. And the lava tube. Cool, dank, and strange, but somehow familiar.
“Darby, yeah, I remember that day.” Megan jostled her shoulder. “What about it?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Darby looked up the slope again.
She’d just been here with Ann and Jonah on Friday. Why was it important to remember her earlier visit?
“Well, you need to either get a grip or a revelation, because it’s time to get going,” Megan said, and then both girls climbed out.
Kit had already unloaded their horses, and while Darby went to tell Baxter what was going on around him, Megan greeted people. When Megan waved a greeting to Lisa Miller, Darby did, too. Lisa was an animal lover and a friend of Cade’s mother, Dee. Darby had met Lisa when they’d both volunteered at the rescue barn.
“What a beautiful horse,” Lisa called to Darby.
Baxter knew the compliment was for him. He stepped toward Lisa, and only Darby, shortening her reins as she reached for the stirrup, then swung into the saddle, reminded him he was here to work.
“You’re a good boy,” Darby told Baxter, turning him toward the trail.
They were delayed when a man named Elliot arrived with a dancing chestnut mare named Pinwheel.
Folding her arms, Cricket reminded him that no mares were allowed on their rescue roundup. Wild stallions could be unpredictable, and taking a mare into their territory was asking for trouble. Still, Cricket said, the volunteer could take over communications if he and Pinwheel stayed behind with a CB radio and an extra-heavy-duty satellite phone.
Smiling at Cricket’s calm authority, Darby thought: role model.
In only a moment, though, her attention shifted to Pele’s trees. They were a clue, but she wasn’t getting it.
They began riding. Cricket gave directions, and Megan talked with Lisa Miller as Darby tried to figure out what was bothering her.
It was the bird with the call like an old-fashioned radio dial whirling past a bunch of stations that made her remember Pigtail Fault, the strands of volcanic glass called Pele’s hair, and the lava tube.
