theyâd only have one day for practice. Darby wanted to end the year with a report card that would stun her mother into believing her daughter wasnât distracted by horses and ranch life, so there was no reason for them to ever leave Moku Lio Hihiu.
She switched off her bedside light and settled under the covers. A minute later she kicked them off.
The night was hot and still. No breeze brought scents of green grass, red dirt, and flowers. No yaps from the dogs or hoofbeats from the horses. No comforting nicker from Hoku, and her longing neighs had stopped, too.
Was she all right out there in the pasture? Was she still there, or had Black Lava come back and stolen her away?
From down the hall came the sound of flippingpages. Jonah was right where he should be, not staring over the darkened ranch as he sometimes did.
The sound should have been comforting, but Jonah must be going through the papers to register them for the keiki rodeo.
How would she do in front of every rider on the island?
Knock it off, she told herself, then snapped the light back on and reached for her diary. She turned to its unlined pages and began drawing horses.
Of course Iâm drawing horses. She smiled as her pencil flew over the paper. Theyâre the only things I can draw!
She sketched Black Lavaâs mares. As she worked on the bay mareâs legsâhind legs were always the hardest!âshe remembered that Tutu had said some people thought they were descendants of the French Camargue marsh horses.
Others thought their bloodlines went back to the Spanish barbs, so she gave one of the mares a more Arab-looking head.
Darby had looked up pictures of the French horses on the Internet in the ranch office. The powerful white horses were supposed to be related to equines from prehistoric times.
Darby shivered. Snowfire looked exactly like a French Camargue.
Almost holding her breath, she drew the white stallion. She gave him broad hooves for walking on the beach and scaling cliffs. She added silky hairto protect him from whipping snow flurries on Sky Mountain, and large, intelligent eyes that could see from the hills to the sea.
At last she tucked her diary away, turned over on one side, and dreamed of horses.
Chapter Five
M egan, Darby, and Cade were waiting outside Sun House when Cricket arrived in her beat-up Jeep, pulling an open horse trailer.
The girls had been finishing breakfast when theyâd heard Medusaâs neighs.
Fighting the trailer and overwhelmed by the bewildering experience of moving without running, Medusa screamed at the humans whoâd caused her confinement.
Kit appeared farther down the road leading into the ranch yard and motioned with both hands, telling Cricket to keep driving until she reached Hokuâs corral.
It almost worked.
Darby and Megan jogged behind the trailer until Cricket came to a stop just before she reached the tack shed.
Darby had to admit the horse was magnificent in her fiery steeldust beauty, but her heart ached for the mare. A leader of her own kind, the horse used fury to hide her fear. Darby could see why Cricket was eager to end the mareâs imprisonment.
âThe ride really freaked her out,â Megan sympathized. As Cricket turned off the Jeep, got out, and closed the door softly behind her, Megan stepped forward, waiting for instructions.
âWeâll see,â Cricket said softly, and then focused her attention on Medusa.
Cricket was a native Hawaiian, and today, as usual, her long black hair was caught up in a messy bun skewered in place by an ivory chopstick. At least, it had been.
Though she was almost always cool under pressure, Cricketâs bun had started to slip, and her thick glasses were askew.
âWhat a ride. My guess was wrong,â she said, studying the mare. âI kept weighing the differences between an open trailer and a closed one, and finally Lukeâour vetâflipped a coin and we went with the open