Promises

by Cathryn Hein

  Five, four, three, two, one. Good luck.

  Chuck leapt forward, his ears pointed straight ahead at the first fence, a big but inviting jump made of large timber logs bound together with rope. A tough fence designed to test the riders and give the horses a taste of what was coming. Like the old pro he was, Chuck gathered himself and cleared it easily.

  They cleared the next few fences without mishap, and Chuck settled into the long, comfortable stride that had given Sophie no end of pleasure over the years. But this was no pleasure ride. In just under six minutes they had to cover over three kilometres of sometimes difficult terrain and clear thirty-two obstacles, each requiring intense concentration and more than a bit of courage. Eventing was not a sport for the faint of heart.

  With her mouth set in a determined line, she steered Chuck through every aggressive option and galloped every section possible. She’d woken that morning wanting this win so badly her chest had ached, but now she was out on course, all she could think about was Chuck and the jumps. Her focus was absolute.

  Over the Fallen Log, the Brush, the Flowerbed, the Arrows. Over Langford’s Leap, Malcolm’s Maze, the Bull Fight, the Old Quarry. Over jumps named because of their construction, the course builder, the sponsor, or after some person or event in local history. High fences, wide fences, colourful fences, natural fences, banks, drops, ditches, mounds – Chuck faced and conquered them all without a moment’s hesitation, his faith in her complete.

  Only two jumps had given her real pause during her course walks. Fence fifteen was one of them. The fence was made up of two brush jumps on either side of a wide gully. After leaping over the first fence, the horses descended into the gully via a giant staircase, popping down off each step until they reached the bottom before cantering up a steep incline and jumping the other brush.

  Individually, the obstacles posed no problem, but together and in slippery conditions, the fence doubled in difficulty. The first brush was large enough to warrant an approach with some speed, but the bounce down the steps required tight control. The horse would need to be well checked, making the subsequent scramble out of the gully and jump over the second brush harder than it appeared.

  As soon as they cleared fence fourteen, Sophie switched her mind to fifteen. There was an easier alternative - she could take a smaller jump into the gully and then wind her way over two more jumps along the bottom, but that route was circuitous and would cost her time. And in this competition, time was her enemy. For every second she went over the set limit, point four of a penalty was added to her score. Any more than six seconds over, and she could lose the lead.

  Chuck threw up wedges of mud as he galloped toward the fence, and although he was now halfway around the course, he showed no sign of tiring. They passed through an open gate and into yet another cypress-ringed paddock. Chuck tossed his head when Sophie eased him back, as though annoyed they were slowing down.

  ‘Steady, boy,’ she muttered, her eyes on the first brush.

  She steered Chuck toward the fence, checking him until he coiled like a spring. She measured the distance in her mind, calculating the stride length needed to pitch their take-off perfectly, and then relaxed her hold on the reins. Chuck sprang forward, and in two strides he was up and over the first brush and then bouncing down the steps and across the base of the gully.

  She sat deep in the saddle and drove him onward with her hips and legs, urging him up the steep slope. She could feel the power in his muscles as he used all his strength to haul himself up, but his great effort had put them closer to the second jump than she had anticipated. They took off right at the base of the fence and she was sure Chuck would leave a leg behind, but although his hoofs struck timber and his knees scratched through the stiff brush, they were over and galloping on before she could even think to grin.

  Mud-splattered, sweaty and steaming, they barrelled on. They jumped the water combination with such panache, the crowd that had gathered around in anticipation of carnage cheered.

  Now the oxer she’d measured with Michael Fenton’s help loomed. One and a half metres high, the fence straddled a narrow but deep ditch that left the horses staring into blackness. It was a big fence anyway, but coming toward the end of the course, when the horses were lagging and looking for home, it was enormous.

  As the oxer came into Chuck’s view, Sophie felt his stride falter. She leaned forward and placed an encouraging hand on his neck.

  ‘You can do it, boy. I know you can.’

  Chuck gathered himself, and with a shake of his head that said, ‘Let me at it’, he charged forward.

  ‘Steady on, big fella,' she cautioned as she checked him. They needed a good speed to get over, but attacking an obstacle that big at a full gallop was asking for trouble.

  The fence reared up in front of them. Sophie assessed the distance and then kicked Chuck on as she realised he needed to lengthen his stride. He accelerated like a Ferrari.

  Four strides to go. Three strides. Two strides.

  ‘Come on, boy. You can do it.’

  Chuck leaned back, and with his front legs curled up under him, leapt into the air and sailed over the fence as though it were a tiny cavaletti built for ponies.

  But as they came down, his off foreleg buckled slightly and he stumbled. To help him balance, she kept the reins tight, but as she felt him lurch forward, she hauled on them, desperately trying to keep his head up. Chuck’s nose almost touched the ground, but he kept going, using every ounce of muscle to stay upright. Two, then three strides and he was back in balance and galloping on.

  Sophie touched his neck, thanking him. Her superstar.

  The rest of the course passed in a mud-caked rush. At the final fence, she glanced at her watch and then eased back to let Chuck take it in his stride. They were under time and without a single penalty. He had given her his all, and now it was over. No one could catch them. They’d won.

  Sophie crossed the line with tears running down her cheeks and her spirit soaring. As she slowed Chuck to a walk, she leaned forward and hugged him. When she finally sat up and wiped away her tears, someone had hold of his reins.

  Sophie blinked, and then blinked some more.

  It was Aaron.

  The course vet approached to give Chuck the once-over. Sophie barely noticed him. Not taking her eyes off Aaron, she slid out of the saddle and stood by Chuck’s shoulder, tangling her fingers in his mane, unsure of what to say or do. Her already pounding heart hammered even harder.

  ‘Hey, Soph,’ said Aaron.

  Sophie opened her mouth but the vet butted in with questions about Chuck. Were there any on-course incidents, had he knocked himself, had he shown any signs of distress, was she worried about him in any way? She answered in monosyllables while staring at Aaron in amazement. She couldn’t have been more stunned if it was her father standing in front of her. Finally, the vet gave her the all clear and she was allowed to leave.

  ‘Aaron, what are you doing here?’

  He grinned at her, his eyes bright under the broad brim of his battered felt hat. Sophie’s stomach somersaulted.

  ‘Thought I’d come and see first-hand what you did.’ He shook his head. ‘And you reckon steeplechasing’s dangerous.’

  ‘Eventing isn’t dangerous. It’s fun!’ She winked at him, feeling even more on top of the world now he was here. ‘Especially when you win.’

  ‘You won?’

  She nodded, almost bursting with pride. ‘It’s not official yet but yes, I think so.’

  Aaron’s smile broadened in delight, then, without warning, he bear-hugged her, oblivious that he was crushing her body protector into her ribs and the stiff band of her helmet into her cheek. ‘You are one amazing girl, Sophie Dixon.’

  Given his habitual standoffishness, Sophie was shocked at the fervour of his embrace, but the euphoria of his words and her win washed it aside.

  He was still grinning when he let her go. He looked so sexy with his wide smile and sparkling eyes, Sophie nearly
threw herself back into his arms, but Chuck was blowing hard and needed attention. Sweat stained his dark-brown coat almost black, and steam rose off him in waves. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She needed to get him dry and rugged up before the rain hit, and by the sound of the sky, she needed to be quick.

  Sophie dragged her helmet from her head and wiped her face on the sleeve of her top. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking the reins from Aaron. ‘The sooner we get the big hero sorted, the sooner I can bore you senseless with a jump-by-jump description of our round.’

  He followed alongside as they walked to the float. ‘You don’t have to tell me. I saw it.’

  She nudged him. ‘Yeah, but it’s different when you’re on board.’

  ‘What? Scarier?’

  ‘No! More exciting.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d call what I just witnessed exciting. Try petrifying. I thought you and Chuck were goners at that big fence.’

  ‘Nah,’ she said, lovingly rubbing Chuck’s cheek. ‘The superstar here would never let me down.’ Tears stung her eyes. ‘It’s funny. I so desperately wanted to win, but now I know we have, I can’t help feeling sad. I know he’ll always be with me at home, but competitions won’t be the same without him. It’s like I’m losing the love of my life.’

  He gave her a sharp look. ‘You’ve got Buck.’

  Sophie made a noise. ‘Not for much longer’ I’m advertising him in Horse Deals next week.’

  Aaron frowned. ‘What did he do this time?’

  ‘Refused to jump the first fence. Three times! We were eliminated before we even started. He hates me.’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you. He’s just a bit spoilt. All he needs is a good kick up the bum. You never let Psycho get on top of you and he’s the biggest lunatic there is, so Buck should be a breeze.’

  ‘I’ve tried. He just ignores me.’

  Aaron draped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. ‘Don’t give up, Soph. You’ll sort him out. You’re a great rider.’

  She wanted him to leave his arm where it was, but he’d dropped it back to his side. She glanced at his hand, wondering what he’d do if she took it, held it as they walked. As if reading her thoughts, he slid his hands into his pockets.

  They reached the float. Buck stood complacently snatching at his hay net as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Sophie glared at him.

  ‘How did you go?’ yelled a female competitor as she rode past.

  ‘Clear,’ Sophie called back.

  The rider nodded. ‘Well done.’ Then she pulled her horse to a halt and stared at Aaron with raised eyebrows and a predatory expression. Sophie pointedly ignored her until she moved on.

  Michael Fenton approached, a wicked smile creasing his handsome face. Flicking Aaron a look, he flung his arms around Sophie and pulled her tight against his chest.

  ‘Congratulations,’ he said, planting a lingering kiss close to her mouth. ‘Great ride.’

  Sophie tried to push him away, but he hung on.

  ‘So that’s why you won’t go out with me,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Come on, Soph. You can do better than that.’

  ‘Bugger off, Michael,’ hissed Sophie, not wanting to make a scene in front of Aaron. ‘And don’t call me Soph.’

  With a grin and a wink, Michael let her go.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Aaron when he’d sauntered off.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Must have been someone. He kissed you.’

  She busied herself with Chuck’s saddle. ‘Just another competitor.’

  Aaron took the saddle from her. ‘Looked like he knew you pretty well.’

  She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about Michael Fenton, especially with Aaron.

  ‘Have you two got a thing going on?’

  Sophie stared at him. He was joking, surely. She’d already told him there was no one.

  Aaron’s eyes swept over her face as though searching for something he was afraid to find. Was he jealous? She almost laughed. She never thought she’d have anything to thank Michael Fenton for, but it seemed that now she had.

  ‘Not jealous, are you?’ she asked. She said it like it was a joke, but it wasn’t.

  He didn’t reply immediately, intent on fiddling with the buckle of Chuck’s breastplate, but then the words came out, leaving Sophie wishing she hadn’t asked.

  ‘Of course not. I couldn’t care less who you went out with. He just looked like a tosser, that’s all.’

  Despondency settled over her like a heavy wet blanket, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she concentrated on Chuck. With two of them working on him, it took no time to wash off the sweat and dry him down with towels. Once he was rugged and settled, she sent Aaron off to buy coffee while she changed out of her muddy clothes in the back of the float.

  She was sitting on the Range Rover’s tailgate, alternating between sticking her tongue out at Buck and blowing kisses at Chuck, when Aaron returned. He handed her a foam cup and sat down next to her.

  ‘I checked the scoreboard for you. There’s a big E by Buck’s name but Chuck’s score looks the same as before.’

  She nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  An awkward silence fell between them. They drank coffee, looked at the horses, watched other riders go by. Anything except look at each other. Sophie picked at the edges of her cup until the rim was a jagged mess and the surface of the coffee sprinkled with tiny white balls. Aaron took it out of her hands and tossed the contents. He jammed the cup onto the base of his own empty one.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘I suppose you’d better. Even if you leave now you’ll still be late with the feeds.’

  ‘The yard’s sorted. My mate Josh is looking after it for me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sophie gnawed at a fingernail, unsure what that implied. It sounded like he intended to hang around for the rest of the day, but why? Only one of them was suffering a pathetic crush and he’d made it quite plain it wasn’t him.

  ‘Well, if you want to watch the three-star competition you’d better head back,’ she said. ‘There aren’t that many competitors.’

  ‘I’m not interested in the three-star.’

  So what was he interested in? Buck? Chuck? The horse float? Her annoyance grew with every silent minute, but just as she was about to ask him why he was sitting looking like a stunned mullet, the sky opened up. Rain dropped in fat heavy globules, splattering the float and Range Rover with such intensity it sounded like hail.

  The horses snorted and pranced, turning their backsides in the direction of the weather. Sophie jumped down from their perch. Aaron slammed the boot shut and helped her gather the few items that were yet to be packed away. As the rain intensified, they ducked into the side door of the float to wait it out.

  She peered out the window at Buck. Chuck, ever the stoic, would stay where he was, but Buck was likely to pull back and take off. His ears lay flat against his neck, but despite his mulish expression, he seemed content to stay where he was. Sophie let out her breath in relief.

  The aluminium sides of the float vibrated as thunder rumbled overhead. She gave Buck another glance, but he appeared fine. She turned back to Aaron. He leaned stiffly against the right-hand chest bar with his hat in his hands, watching her.

  ‘I suppose we’ll just have to wait,’ she said.

  ‘It’ll blow over soon enough. In ten minutes the sun will probably start shining.’

  ‘Yep. Typical western districts weather. Four seasons in one day.’

  With the ramp and top rear doors closed and little light penetrating the tinted windows, it was strangely intimate inside the float. The comforting, familiar smell of leather, hay and horse hung in the still air. The spacious float seemed cramped and small, and unable to accommodate two people at once.

  Despite the cold, Sophie’s skin flushed in the close confines. Aaron’s eyes seemed anchored to hers, but not in a way she wanted. He was scrutinising her, in the same way a child would observe
an insect, as though she were something alien and scary, but awesome and fascinating at the same time.

  ‘I wonder if they’ll cancel the presentation,’ she said.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘You should probably leave.’

  ‘I want to stay.’

  ‘Oh.’ She took a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage to ask why. He said something but she couldn’t hear him through the rain. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘Do you wish I hadn’t come?’

  ‘No. I’m glad you’re here.’ She took a step toward him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She took his hand and held it with both of hers. ‘It means a lot.’

  He swallowed again and gave her a tight smile. ‘I’m glad,’ he said, and then, very gently, he removed his hand from her grip.

  Cold seeped through Sophie’s socks as she stood in her kitchen staring at the phone she’d placed onto the sparkling surface of the granite breakfast bar. The old house’s thick stone walls kept it insulated from the worst of the cold but the tiled floor seemed to suck the chill from the ground.

  She thought about making a cup of tea but didn’t fill the kettle. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the benchtop, thinking. Suddenly, she snatched up the phone and hit the autodial. The call went through to a message bank.

  ‘Hi, Dad. It’s me, Sophie. I just thought I’d let you know Chuck and I won the two-star at Lake Ackerman today. It’s the first two-star I’ve ever won, you know, so it’s pretty exciting. And I’ve decided to retire Chuck.’ She stopped and took a shuddering breath as her throat choked up. ‘Mum would’ve been so proud of him today.’ She took another breath. ‘I guess I’ll talk to you later. Bye.’

  She hung up and stood staring at the handset, immediately wishing she could erase the message. She shouldn’t have mentioned her mother. She should have left the call until the morning when she was feeling less emotional. He’d only punish her for her neediness by not calling. He’d done it before. Like that memorable Christmas three years ago, when yet again he’d chosen to stay in Canberra. She’d left a long drunken message on his home phone late at night, asking why he didn’t love her. He’d never returned the call, never mentioned its existence. And when she’d finally enquired if he’d received it, he denied all knowledge and then asked if it wasn’t time she went back to seeing her doctor. She’d mumbled she was fine, but the hurt had lasted for weeks.