Water Lily (6 page)

D
arby didn't realize she'd pressed her hands against her heart until Kit frowned at her. She let her arms fall back to her sides, but her pulse raced in her temples and wrists as she waited for someone to speak up for the horses.

“We have the personnel and the machines. Two experienced pilots have been doing disaster fly-overs,” Mr. Klaus explained. He turned toward Cricket. “We can get this over and done with right away, and we hope your organization will back us up.”

“You won't, will you?” Darby pleaded.

All eyes turned to her, until Cricket cleared her throat.

“I'm just a volunteer. I can't speak for the whole
organization,” she explained, and Darby felt the unwelcome stares leave her until Cricket snapped her fingers as if she'd just remembered something and pointed. “Darby! That's right, you know something about wild horses and helicopters.”

If only she could hole up like a prairie dog, Darby thought, but Cricket was already introducing her to Mr. Klaus and reminding Mr. Nomi where he'd seen Darby before.

Then, Cricket described how Mr. Nomi, representing the Department of Agriculture, and Mr. Klaus, from the Department of Health, worked together as part of the Agricultural Resource Conservation team.

“So, Darby, what bothers you about getting the wild horses to the mountains?” Mr. Nomi asked.

“Is it moving them or using helicopters that you don't like?” Mr. Klaus only gave her two choices.

“It's not that simple. There are wild horse herds up there already—”

“Proving it's a good wild horse habitat,” Mr. Klaus cut in.

“There's another stallion up there, in charge….” Darby's voice trailed off as she remembered the magnificent white stallion that had challenged Black Lava. But even as she said it, she knew he wasn't the biggest threat. “It's the helicopters. They're too dangerous.” Darby forced the words around the shyness that was a roadblock between her brain and her tongue.

“We have experienced pilots,” Mr. Klaus assured
her. “They fly over
volcanoes
, for heaven's sake, swooping low enough that volcanologists can carry out their work. I'm pretty sure that's much more dangerous than chasing horses.”

“Not for the horses,” she said.

Cricket and Kit exchanged a worried glance.

“She's thinking about what happened to her own horse, Hoku,” Cricket said.

Darby nodded so hard her ponytail bounced, but Mr. Klaus still studied her and when he spoke again, his tone was condescending. “Would you rather have them down here, getting sick?”

A kaleidoscope of black manes, golden necks, red legs, and flowing silver tails spun in Darby's mind. None of them should ever turn dull-eyed and weak.

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“That foal you just brought up is sick,” Mr. Klaus argued. “If the domestic horses are ill, what chance will there be for the wild ones?”

Confused by the sympathy in Mr. Klaus's tone, Darby looked to Kit and asked, “Blue Moon's just colicky, right?”

“Seems so,” Kit said.

That wasn't much help. Hadn't Kit seen helicopter and horse disasters back home in Nevada? Couldn't he imagine one? He was an adult, an experienced cowboy.
He
should be the one taking on these officials.

Mr. Nomi and Mr. Klaus returned to a discussion of running the horses to the mountains. In her
frustration, Darby felt it was as if she hadn't spoken at all. But then Mr. Nomi asked Cricket, “What do
you
think about using helicopters for herding?”

“It's risky,” Cricket said. “The sound and the wind of a chopper scare horses. They might stampede. Mares and foals might be separated. Foals might fall behind.”

“You keep saying
might
,” Mr. Klaus pointed out.

“Close monitoring by riders on horseback can prevent some of that,” Cricket said, “but even excellent riders on the best domestic horses trying to stay with the herd under those conditions—it's tough.”

“And with no one on the ground watching, mares break legs, foals get lost, and some horses get”—Darby searched for a word to describe her first sight of Hoku—“
brave
and try to outrun the helicopter, but end up running onto the street, right into the path of a bus. It's horrible.”

“That would be a nightmare. But that's all it is, just a bad dream,” Mr. Klaus said with a patronizing smile. “Don't you think you're making it sound worse than it is?”

“No, I'm not! My horse was hit by a bus back in Nevada while she was trying to escape a helicopter. She nearly died.”

“This is Hawaii, not Nevada,” Mr. Klaus replied.

Darby always tried to be respectful of adults, but Mr. Klaus wasn't making it easy.

She'd seen helicopter herding with her own eyes.
Why wouldn't he listen to her?

“Not all helicopters cause stampedes,” Mr. Klaus continued.

“What about using a Judas horse, Darby?” Mr. Nomi asked.

Darby sensed he was trying to smooth things over and offer her a little respect.

“Well, I haven't actually seen that in action,” she admitted, “but I know what you mean—using a tame horse to lead mustangs into a trap—”

Darby broke off. It would take time to train a tame horse to run up into the mountains. Even if they could do it fast enough, she couldn't picture Black Lava following along. In his equine mind, he was king.

She realized she was shaking her head dubiously when Mr. Nomi said, “Don't you think he'd follow a pretty mare?”

Like Hoku,
Darby thought.

“Before the tsunami, I would have thought so,” Darby said, “but I saw Black Lava plow through the waves, right past Hoku. He was so determined to get away from danger, I think he would have run my filly down if she hadn't moved out of his way. And there were the TV helicopters overhead. If he associated them with that day…” Darby took a deep breath, “No. I don't think it would work.”

Cricket added, “That stallion knows his business.”

But it wasn't Cricket that Mr. Klaus chuckled at. “You're quite the horse expert, aren't you, honey?”

There was no good answer. If she said yes, she sounded stuck-up. If she said no, why should they listen to her? Darby turned to her grandfather for help.

“Mr. Nomi, he asked my granddaughter's opinion, yeah?” Jonah gave an intense smile. “She's a polite girl, so she answered.”

Mr. Klaus got her grandfather's point. The official had trespassed on tender territory and he knew it. He took a step backward before offering a sort of praise. “I guess you've been riding all your life.”

If only he'd said, “I guess you've
loved
horses all your life,” or “I guess horses have
fascinated
you all your life,” Darby would have been proud to answer. But he hadn't, and Darby blushed so hard, her face hurt. She didn't want to admit that she'd just recently learned to ride.

“She's a natural. She has horses in her blood!”

When had Megan come down from the house? Darby had been so wrapped up in the conversation, she had no clue. But Megan had barged into the conversation just in time and she wanted to give her the world's biggest hug.

“How about this?” Cricket said suddenly. “Why not use the ‘Iolani Ranch paniolos to herd mustangs the old-fashioned way, on horseback?”

“That's crazy talk,” Jonah said with a bark of laughter.

“It might work,” Kit said.

Anyone within a mile could have recognized the
excitement in Kit's and Jonah's expressions. They were both up for the challenge.

“Don't count on Kimo,” Megan put in. “That's what I came down to tell you. He called to say he and his dad have ‘a bug.' I don't know what kind,” Megan said before anyone could ask, “but he sounded awful.”

“So, that would mean Kit, Cade, me,” Cricket said, “and Jonah?”

“I'll chance 'em,” Jonah said. “But if you don't need me right now—” His quick glance took in Darby as well as Kit and Cricket. “I want to go look at that colt.”

As Mr. Klaus and Mr. Nomi shook hands with Jonah and promised to stay in touch, Megan offered, “Darby and I can help.”

“We'll talk about that,” Cricket said, glancing after Jonah.

“And maybe my mom,” Megan volunteered. “She's recovered from her concussion, and that's almost one of us for each wild horse.”

“That's what we'd need,” Cricket said, but she looked dubious.

The two officials didn't notice. They were consulting a spiral-bound notebook and a map.

Cricket edged closer to Kit and whispered, “Do you think Darby's ready?”

In that moment, Kit's eyes showed all his misgivings.

Darby knew wild horses were unpredictable. They'd
spread out, then stick together: they'd gallop over hills, then veer around them. And the terrain might require jumping, quick decisions, and just plain luck to stick in the saddle.

But Kit only said, “That's hard riding.”

“If she's not up to it, we won't take chances.”

Mr. Klaus could have at least looked up from the map, Darby thought.

He didn't even glance at her as he said, “If we used an inexperienced rider in a government-sponsored wildlife relocation we'd be leaving ourselves open to a lawsuit.”

Is he refusing to let me ride because I disagreed with him over the helicopters?
Darby thought so, but she couldn't brag that she'd ridden Hoku, a barely trained mustang, at a flat-out gallop in the midst of a volcanic eruption.

Even I can't believe that,
Darby thought wryly,
and I was there!

But she wanted to go. She wanted to feel like part of a wild horse herd. She wanted to make sure the wild horses weren't mistreated. And, though it wasn't a very mature motive, she wanted to show Mr. Klaus that while he might be a big shot at the Department of Health, he wasn't the boss on this ranch.

“You wouldn't leave me out, would you, Kit?” she asked, and when the foreman looked pained, she added, “It's not like I'm going to sue the ranch.”

“Not the ranch, the federal government,” Mr. Klaus corrected her. “As government representatives,
we couldn't allow that, could we, Mike?” He turned to Mr. Nomi.

“Kit?” Darby insisted, before a startled Mr. Nomi could reply.

“That's up to the boss,” Kit reminded her.

Mr. Klaus looked from Darby to Kit, let out a deep exhalation of annoyance, then gulped the last inch of cold coffee from his cup.

“Thanks,” he said, handing the empty mug to Kit.

He's the ranch foreman. He's a bronc rider. He's the oldest son of a Native American family, not a waiter,
Darby thought. She felt insulted for Kit.

“Thanks for your time. All of you,” Mr. Nomi said. He smiled politely at Cricket, Kit, and Megan, but it felt to Darby like his eyes purposely skimmed past her. He headed for the car, saying, “Talk to you soon.”

She felt self-conscious. She'd obviously made Mr. Nomi think less of her. When Mr. Klaus pulled open the car door, he glanced back at them and chuckled. “Think about using helicopters,” he said. “Most would say they're more efficient than kids playing cowgirl.”

K
ids playing cowgirl!

Resentment flashed through Darby's entire body.

She turned to Kit and Cricket, pretty sure they'd stop being so nice now that the two men had left.

But neither of them said a word. In the quiet, she heard nearby hooves. Blue Ginger and Blue Moon thudded along with grudging patience, while Hoku's hooves danced eagerly as she kept watch to figure out what the other horses were doing.

At least, that's how Darby heard them. For the thousandth time, she realized she was a lot more sensitive and sensible when it came to horses. If only she were half as good with people.

Something was wrong in the slow-motion way Kit
eased off his black Stetson, showing even blacker hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. He was choosing his words carefully.

“You blew it bad,
keiki
,” Kit said.

“
I
did?” Darby squeaked. That was the opposite of what she'd expected to hear.

Whose side are you on?
Darby wondered, but she didn't ask.

“I got as healthy a distrust of strangers—' specially those workin' for the government—as anyone, but you missed a good chance to keep quiet and let things roll out the way they were meant to.”

“But…” Darby glanced at Megan for support and saw the older girl's discomfort.

So, Megan wasn't on her side, either.

Darby took a deep breath. She felt a cold stab in her chest. She was relieved when Megan gestured vaguely toward Sun House and left.

Kit wasn't going anywhere, though. He was brushing dust from his hat brim. Three knuckles showed torn skin and dried blood. He must have more to say.

“Those guys liked the look of our well. They didn't order any extreme conservation measures, and they could've. They didn't insist a vet come out and look at Blue Moon. They trusted us to take care of business.”

One thing she'd learned from Samantha Forster and Mrs. Allen in Nevada was that ranchers prided themselves on being independent and self-sufficient. Jonah and his cowboys were no different, and Mr.
Nomi and Mr. Klaus knew it.

For the first time since the men had left, Kit looked up at her.

Darby nodded, but she
knew
she'd been right about one thing.

“What about the helicopters?” Darby folded her arms. “I've seen what can happen. There's no way I could keep quiet.”

“You started out pretty good,” Kit told her. “Their idea wasn't great, but they would've come around—”

“They
did
come around,” Cricket said quietly. “And if they hadn't, I would have reminded them of that crash in Wyoming.” She looked aside at Kit and said, “A pilot herding wild horses failed to maintain proper altitude.”

Cricket was right. An example like that, one that showed concern for people as well as horses, would have been more persuasive.

You started out pretty good,
Kit had said, but Mr. Klaus had ended their conversation by joking that she was a kid playing cowgirl.

Darby knew how she'd made her good beginning go wrong. Embarrassed—no, humiliated!—she replayed her whining about not being included.

That had zero to do with protecting Black Lava's herd. She'd sounded like a kid, all right.

Besides,
nothing
would convince Kit or Jonah to let her go along on the horse drive if they had qualms about her riding ability.

And yet Darby only considered running for her bedroom, to hide, for a fraction of a second.

“What should I do?” she asked Kit.

“What I'm going to do is go take a look at that foal,” Cricket said. “We have a few sick horses at the barn. With luck, this baby's symptoms won't be similar.”

Role model,
Darby thought again as she gazed after Cricket.

Alone with Kit now, Darby blurted, “Are you mad at me?”

It seemed like forever before Kit shook his head no. “Surprised,” he admitted. “You usually think ahead, act sensible, yeah?”

Kit grinned at his Hawaiian-sounding sentence, but his eyes turned wise.

Too wise, Darby thought, for a guy in his twenties.

“Know what my grandpa Mac used to say at times like this?”

“No,” she whispered, “but I bet I won't like it.”

Kit matched her lopsided smile, then made his pronouncement.

“Listen, or your tongue will make you deaf.” Kit stayed quiet as the whir of bird wings passed overhead and the slosh of Navigator drinking at the tack-room trough drifted in to underline what he'd said.

Darby memorized the words.

Listen, or your tongue will make you deaf
was a bet
ter saying than
Shut up so you can hear what other people are saying.
And she needed to learn that, because even though she'd been too shy to speak up for most of her life, Hawaii seemed to be changing her.

Or she was changing in Hawaii.

“Don't get too down on yourself before you help me dump the water barrels.”

“Okay,” Darby agreed, “but what's your grandfather's name again?”

“MacArthur Ely,” Kit answered proudly. “He's the best.”

Darby followed Kit toward the barrels, but her mind was elsewhere.

She'd been thinking about adding a chapter to her diary called “Paniolo Wisdom,” but this meant she had to change the title. She might be able to say
Kit
was part buckaroo and part paniolo but not his Shoshone grandfather.

But she'd have to solve that problem later. Tipping water from the barrels she and Megan had set out last night, into Hoku's trough and the water troughs by the tack room, kept Darby focused on lifting and balancing and trying not to get too wet.

With that chore finished, Kit told Darby to lead each cremello up to the tack room to drink while he walked Cricket to her Jeep, so she could get back to work at the feed store.

Hoku objected by slamming her corral fence with jealous kicks.

Afraid the filly would splinter the wood, Darby shouted, “You know I love you best!”

Though Darby couldn't see Jonah from where she stood, she heard him moan, “Enough!”

Darby had latched the last cremello back into the round pen when Aunty Cathy pulled up and got out of the Land Rover, arms full of grocery bags and a big flat box.

“Let me help,” Darby said, jogging over as Aunty Cathy managed to slam the truck door with her hip.

“Just take the box.” Aunty Cathy blew her bangs out of her eyes, then added, “It's for you.”

“What did your doctor say?” Darby asked as she maneuvered the box out of Aunty Cathy's grasp.

“My concussion's a thing of the past. I'm cleared for duty,” Aunty Cathy said.

“Oh, good—hey! This is the saddle blanket I ordered for Hoku!” Darby whooped, finally recognizing the return address on the package.

She'd used a little of her reward money from finding Stormbird, the lost cremello colt, to buy Hoku a saddle blanket she'd been admiring in a horse gear catalog.

Although Hoku wasn't ready for a saddle yet, Darby couldn't resist.

She stopped right in the middle of the ranch yard to open the cardboard box. As she struggled to rip loose the tape, Darby realized Cade had come to watch.

“Show us,” Aunty Cathy said and then, as Darby
pulled the blanket free of its wrappings, she added, “Oh, Darby, it will look perfect on her.”

“Totally,” said Megan, who'd just jogged down the stairs to take a grocery bag from her mother.

“Yeah,” Darby said. She gave the blanket a flip, admiring it.

Bright with sun colors—from yellow-gold to flame-orange—it was worth every penny she'd spent.

When the filly gave a lonesome neigh, Aunty Cathy took pity on her and said, “I guess you should show her what she got.”

Just then, Darby realized Megan was looking past her at Cade.

Cade had drawn himself up to his full height. His arms were locked gunfighter-ready at his sides. He hadn't come to watch her open the parcel. He waited to learn if Aunty Cathy had learned anything about his mother.

“Cade, I don't have much news for you.” Aunty Cathy's voice was matter-of-fact. “But Peg at the grocery store saw her yesterday, so she's definitely—safe.”

Cade nodded.

With three pairs of eyes watching, he showed no reaction except that his fingers closed against his palms.

“Mahalo,”
he managed. “Really, thanks a lot.”

“Of course.” Aunty Cathy sounded sweet and motherly and maybe that was more than he could take, because Cade turned and walked away.

“Just great,” Megan snapped, but she waited until Cade was out of earshot to say more. “All this time, he's been imagining the worst, thinking she's drowned or trapped or—and she hasn't come to see if
he's
okay. If I had a mother like her, I wouldn't be searching for her. I'd hide!”

With that, Megan gave Aunty Cathy's cheek a quick kiss. Then, she ran after Cade.

Darby's jolt of surprise was seconded by Aunty Cathy as she said, “I wish I'd seen
that
coming.”

“What do you think she'll say to him?” Darby asked.

“I don't imagine there's anything he wants to hear from anyone,” Aunty Cathy said. Shaking her head, Aunty Cathy gave Darby a half smile, then headed for Sun House.

Darby folded the blanket back into its box and carried it under one arm.

Chain links jingled across the grass as Francie the goat came as far as she could toward Darby. Francie's bleat of greeting made Darby stop.

“How are you, little girl?” she asked. She kneaded the bony top of the goat's head and looked after Megan, though she'd disappeared near the bunkhouse. “I hope Megan knows what she's doing, don't you?”

Francie nuzzled the front of Darby's shirt, then tasted it.

“That's for wearing, not eating,” she told the goat, but Francie had already reached the same conclusion.

Kimo's dad had given Francie to Jonah as a joke. She was a fainting goat, a breed rumored to have been created by shepherds to pass out under stress. That way, if a wolf or coyote was on the prowl, the valuable sheep would flee, leaving the unconscious goat for the predators.

Darby hated that idea. Still, she teased Francie. “Maybe you've got the right idea. If I'd fainted at the mention of herding with helicopters, I wouldn't have been able to run my mouth and make people think I was a
child
.”

Naaa,
Francie bleated, but Darby didn't try to interpret the comment. She just kissed the goat's silky head before getting a better grip on the box, then jogged off to show Hoku her present.

Two months ago, she probably would have just whipped the blanket out of its box to display it for Hoku. Now she knew the action might scare the filly, so she knelt outside the corral, opened the box so that the blanket showed, and scooted the box under the bottom fence rail.

If Hoku wanted to investigate it, she could.

In the meantime, Darby took down the halter and tangerine-striped rope from where she'd slung them over the top fence rail. Hoku knew them and associated them with good things—like going somewhere with Darby—so Darby went into the corral and haltered her horse.

“Yep, that's for you,” Darby said when Hoku rolled
her eyes toward the box.

Darby walked over and lifted out the blanket.

No spatter of gravel or explosion of dust came from her horse's hooves. She didn't shy or show the whites of her eyes in fear, so Darby approached the filly with the blanket draped over her arms. She stopped a few feet away, not forcing her filly to examine the blanket, just offering the new object for inspection.

“Hoku, it's for you,” she said.

The filly sniffed the blanket. She tasted it. She listened as Darby flapped it.

“You're such a big girl,” she said, and then she made a quick kissing sound.

Hoku shook her head, spilling her golden mane to one side of her neck, then the other. After that, the filly looked into Darby's eyes with pure acceptance.

“What did I do to earn that?” Darby whispered to her horse, but she knew the answer. She was kind. She cared. She paid attention.

Right now, for instance, Hoku's ears stood straight up. About the size of Darby's hand, with all four fingers and her thumb aligned, the sorrel's ears were alert. Hoku gave back the attention Darby lavished on her.

“You're not afraid of this silly blanket, are you?”

Hoku's ears changed. They cupped to catch each word. The filly stood so still, Darby saw past the fine golden fringe edging each ear to the dark pink skin and the filigree of veins leading to Hoku's heart.

Darby didn't know how long they'd stood together
before she realized she was humming to her horse. It took a few seconds more for the lyrics to emerge.

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are.” Darby didn't know all of the words, but it didn't matter.

Darby sighed with pleasure, then she began gliding the blanket over Hoku's back, neck, and face. The filly nipped and sniffed and nuzzled.

“So much for horse charming,” Darby told the filly. “You're the magic maker.”

Or maybe they'd hypnotized each other, and that was why Darby decided to ride Hoku—not Navigator—on her first trip to Patrick Zink's house when Jonah came by to tell her Patrick had called earlier, begging for company.