Free High Hurdles by Lauraine Snelling Page B

windows that overlooked the backyard. Gran was showing Joe her roses. The two of them didn’t have to stand so close together.

    “Stupid birds, you don’t have to sing so loud, do you?” DJ covered her head with her pillow early the next morning. But when she closed her eyes again, all she could see was Gran smiling up at that old policeman as though he were the last man on earth. She flung back the covers and stomped down the hall to the bathroom. Maybe things would go better over at the Academy.
    “Mornin’, darlin’, you’re up early.” Gran sat in her chair in front of the bay window, Bible in her lap and her hair in the normal disarray.
    Maybe I’m blowing this all out of proportion. The thought zipped through DJ’s mind like the hummingbirds at their feeders. Gran was just being polite. Southern women are supposed to be polite and gracious. She’s trying to show me how to be the same way. After popping a slice of wheat bread in the toaster, DJ pulled the pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. She spread peanut butter on the toast and took her juice and toast into the other room, where she sat at Gran’s feet.
    “So, what’s on your schedule for today?” Gran laid a hand on DJ’s head.
    “The usual. Then we have that pony party this afternoon. You want some help in the garden when I get home?”
    “Thank you, dear, but no thanks. Joe and I are going to a concert this evening.”
    DJ jerked out from under the loving hand and twisted around to look up at her grandmother. What a sappy look! “You mean you’re going out with him—like on a date?” Her voice squeaked on the final word.
    “I guess you could call it that.” Gran smiled. “He’s really a nice man, don’t you think?”
    DJ gave a decidedly unladylike snort. So much for her grandmother’s training. “If you like old men, I guess.”
    “Darla Jean, why I’m surprised at you.” Gran leaned forward and lifted DJ’s chin with gentle fingers. “Look at me, child. He’s only ten years older than I am.”
    “But . . . but you’re not old. Why, you’re not even fifty yet.” DJ tried to look at her grandmother as if she were seeing her for the first time. All she could see was the love shining in her grandmother’s eyes. “You . . . you’re my gran. You’re beautiful.”
    “Why, thank you, but fifty really isn’t far off.” Gran put her cheek next to DJ’s. “I love you more than words can ever say.” She straightened up. “If I only had time to sew a new dress.”
    DJ pushed to her feet. “The one you wore yesterday sure made him look twice—if that’s what you want.” She left the room, her thudding heels leaving no doubt as to her opinion.
    “You’re acting like a brat,” she scolded herself as she pumped up the hill. “Gran looks happy as a kid with a Popsicle, and you want to take it away from her.” The climb made her puff. You can’t get along with your mother, and now you’re grumbling at Gran. Grow up!
    After DJ had finished her beginners’ class, she entered the office to check the duties board. Bridget called her in for a conference, her expression serious.
    “DJ, James said that you took the missing bridle and saddle.”
    “He’s crazy! Why would I do that?”
    “That’s what I asked him. He said you were going to sell it so you would have more money to put in your horse fund.”
    “And you believed him?” DJ clenched her hands. Why would Bridget believe James over her?
    “I did not say that. I just have to follow up on every lead. We have never had a problem with things being stolen before.” Bridget leaned forward, her elbows on her desk. “So if you tell me you did not take it, then I will know for sure you did not.”
    “I didn’t take that tack or anything else.” DJ forced the words through gritted teeth. That . . . that lying, cheating, lazy, good for nothing creep! “Is there anything else?” All she could think of was getting out of