High Hurdles Collection One

Lauraine Snelling

Description

Fourteen-year-old DJ Randall wants nothing more than to compete as a show jumper in the Olympics. The challenges that stand in her way only spur her to work harder toward her dream. Whether it's mucking out stalls and hosting pony parties to earn money to buy her first horse or navigating the changing family dynamics at home, DJ relies on her faith in God to see her through the most daunting obstacles. Collection One includes Olympic Dreams, DJ's Challenge, Setting the Pace, Out of the Blue, and Storm Clouds.

Sujets

• Children's

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 avril 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781441235077
• Langue: English

Extrait

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High Hurdles Collection One
Copyright © 1995, 1996, 1997
Lauraine Snelling
Cover design by Eric Walljasper
Cover photography by Aimee Christenson
Special thanks to Birchbury Farm and Stacy Lee for their generous assistance with the cover photo shoot.
Previously published in five separate volumes:
Olympic Dreams © 1995
DJ’s Challenge © 1995
Setting the Pace © 1996
Out of the Blue © 1996
Storm Clouds © 1997
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. The “NIV” and “New International Version” trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Use of either trademark requires the permission of International Bible Society.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
ISBN 978-1-4412-3507-7
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available for this title.
LCCN: 2010053030
About the Author
Lauraine Snelling is an award-winning author of over sixty books, fiction and nonfiction, for adults and young adults. Her books have sold over two million copies. Besides writing books and articles, she teaches at writers’ conferences across the country. She and her husband, Wayne, have two grown sons and a basset hound named Chewey. They make their home in California.
Editor’s Note
Originally published in the 1990s, these books reflect the cultural and social aspects of that time. In order to maintain the integrity of the story, we opted not to impose today’s styles, technologies, laws, or other advancements upon the characters and events within. We believe the themes of love of God, love of family, and love of horses are timeless and can be enjoyed no matter the setting.

With love to my brother Don and my
sister Karen, who helped me catch our
horse Silver even when they didn’t want
to. I am so fortunate to be in the same
family as you.
Chapter • 1
“One day—the Olympics.”
Darla Jean Randall scrunched her eyes shut, crossed her fingers, and breathed her prayer all at the same time. She repeated it for good measure, then opened her green eyes and stared at the poster on the wall above her dresser. Five interlocking gold Olympic rings topped an illustration of a dark mahogany horse flying over a triple jump, its mane braided with red, white, and blue ribbons. The red-jacketed rider, in total control, rode poised over the horse’s withers.
One day she would be in that picture. She, thirteen-year-old DJ Randall—well, fourteen minus twenty-one days—would hear the roar of the crowd as she and her mount triumphantly finished the cross-country course. When DJ closed her eyes again, she could almost feel the horse beneath her, the thrust of its powerful haunches sending them flying easily over the jumps. She could hear the cheers of the crowd, smell and taste the victory.
DJ reluctantly pulled her attention away from her daydream and clattered down the stairs. Her best friend, Amy Yamamoto, waited at the bottom.
“What took you so long?” Amy checked her watch. “You’ve got a group lesson to teach in half an hour. And you know those little kids are champing at the bit.”
“Sorry. I got sidetracked.” Darla Jean, known instead as DJ since she demanded everyone call her that, hopped on one foot while she pulled on a boot. She grabbed her riding helmet off the peg by the door, clapped it on her head, and instinctively tucked her wavy blond ponytail up into it.
“You be careful now.” Her grandmother’s voice followed her out the door.
“Yeah, I will.” DJ’s answer, yelled over her shoulder, was automatic.
The warm Pleasant Hill, California, sun lay golden over the bleached tan hills of Briones Park to the west as DJ and Amy hopped onto their ten-speed bikes and pedaled up the slope.
“How do you plan to ride in the Olympics when you don’t even have a horse?” Amy renewed the discussion they had had countless times before.
“Remember when I said I wanted to ride and you said I didn’t even know how?”
“I know.”
“I got a job at the Academy to pay for riding lessons, and everything worked out.”
“Yeah, and how many gazillion stalls have we mucked out since then?”
DJ shifted down to pump up the steep hill ahead. “So now I need money to buy a horse of my own.”
“You need to learn to jump first.” Practical Amy, riding in front, had to yell to be heard.
“Sure would be super to be training my own horse at the same time.” Labored puffs between DJ’s words attested to the grade of the hill.
They crested the hill and coasted down the other side. Aluminum pipe fences surrounded the riding rings, open-air stalls, and pasture area of Briones Riding Academy, known simply as the Academy by the working students and the others who rode there. A square white sign informed the public they could take lessons there and stable their horses.
The two girls turned into the gravel drive. “Too bad your mom can’t buy you a horse.”
“Right.” DJ shrugged. “So what else is new? She couldn’t afford lessons either, but I got ’em. I can’t afford to wait around for her to help.”
They parked their bikes in front of the low red barn with an aluminum roof. A raked sand aisle on each side divided the four lines of stalls fifteen box stalls long. Here lived the horses stabled at the Academy by outside owners. Some of them came to ride every day, but most of the animals were cared for and exercised by academy employees.
“I’ve got a treat for Diablo, then I’ll meet you at the office.” DJ dug in her pocket for the carrot pieces she always brought for the fiery sorrel gelding and trotted down the right aisle of stalls, calling out greetings to her favorite animals as she passed. She would have needed a bucket to treat all her friends.
“Hi, big fella.” DJ grinned at the excited nicker from the restless sorrel. “I brought you something.” Diablo lipped the carrot off her hand, rubbing his forehead against her chest while he munched. When he slobbered on her cheek, she inhaled a strong dose of carrot perfume. “You big silly. You act so tough, but you’re really a marshmallow inside.”
DJ rubbed the red’s ears and murmured sweet words all the while. She was sure she couldn’t love him more if he really belonged to her. She buried her nose in his thick mane and breathed deep. Nothing in the entire world smelled as good as a horse.
Amy’s whistle called DJ back to reality.
“See ya later.” She tickled Diablo’s whiskery lip one last time and headed back to the entrance, ignoring his pleading whinny.
“Looks like James didn’t show up again,” Amy said when DJ joined her. “The stalls need mucking, and I was supposed to do the show grooming today.”
“We’ll be here all afternoon.” DJ’s eyes lit up. “Extra money for lessons. Maybe there’ll even be some to put in my horse fund!”
“Great. And I thought we could go swimming today.” Amy propped both their bikes out of the way against the wall and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Dust puffed up around their boots as they walked across to the combination tackroom and office building. DJ lifted the clipboard with her class roster off the announcements wall and waved at Bridget Sommersby. Owner, trainer, boss, and good friend. Bridget sat working at her desk on the other side of the large square window.
Bridget signaled DJ to wait. “Angie’s mother called. Angie caught a bug and won’t be here today.” She checked the calendar on her wall. “You’re reviewing leads, right?”
“And starting figure eights. Shame Angie’s missed so much. She’s the only natural rider in the group.”
“I know. Too bad kids with asthma seem to catch every bug that comes around. Angie’s parents have signed her up for the next series of lessons, though. Say, DJ, after you are finished today, do you want to work Diablo? He needs extra attention. His owners called and said they would be out to see him.”
“Really? I thought they’d forgotten all about him. Wish I could buy him.” DJ shook her head. “Why own such a super horse and then never ride him?”
“Who cares? This way you can pretend he’s yours.” Amy picked up a bucket full of brushes and combs. “Where do you want me to start today, Bridget? That Quarter Horse’s tail needs pulling if he’s going to show. James should be here to help out. What happened to him this time?”
“I believe he is sick.”
“Who called in his excuse, the nanny or the chauffeur?”
“Come on, now, don’t be catty. It is not James’ fault his father has as much money as the San Francisco mint.”
“Well, he isn’t learning much about responsibility when he only shows up when—”
“That is enough.” Bridget didn’t waste words any more than she wasted motions—or emotions for that matter. “I will come with you, Amy, so we can make some decisions.” She ushered them out and closed the door behind her. “Oh, DJ, did you check with your grandmother about the show coming up? The entry fees should be sent in tomorrow.”
DJ felt the familiar catch in her stomach. She hated asking Gran for money. But Mom was never around to ask. She was forever traveling for her job or at one of her graduate school courses. Not that she ever had money to give anyway.
“Yeah, I know. I gotta get to my class. Talk to you later.” DJ strolled across the dusty parking lot to the front ring where two girls, ages eight and ten, stood by the gate with their horses’ reins in hand.
“Okay, let’s go over