by Cathryn Hein
To keep herself from brooding, she slogged away at Buck, determined, this time, to get him right. The extended time in work hadn’t improved his temper, but then her disposition wasn’t the sunniest either. Two weeks into July, during one of their training sessions, Sophie decided she’d had enough.
The first time he tried to dump her he succeeded, although his victory was short-lived. Leaving him running around the arena squealing and pigrooting in glee, Sophie stomped to the tack room for a long, leather-handled riding crop. She batted it against her leg. The loop of leather at its end made a satisfying crack as it hit. Grimfaced, she shoved it down the side of her gaiter until only the handle stuck out, and then went back to fetch him.
The second time Buck tried to throw her, Sophie let him have it. With an almighty whack, she brought the crop down on his rump and dug her spurs hard into his side. Buck stopped in shock, goggle-eyed, and with all four feet splayed out like a cartoon character. Sophie had never hit him with a whip before. He twisted his head to look at her, blinking in equine surprise, and for the rest of the session, he grudgingly behaved.
He tried it on a few more times, but Sophie had his measure. Workouts became a pleasure instead of a chore, and Sophie’s flagging confidence received a welcome boost.
Sometimes, when she took Buck out for a stretch around the roads, she ran into Aaron and Danny and would join them as they trotted and cantered around the block. Aaron always rode in the centre. He’d barely glance at her, and his face would be set and angry. Danny tried to engage her in conversation, but each time Aaron would turn to him, and although she couldn’t see the look he gave, it was enough to make Danny shut up. The three of them would continue in awkward silence until, with a mask of cheeriness to cover her discomfort, she made an excuse and cantered off.
When she asked Aaron about it during her visit to the yard, he simply reiterated that he didn’t want her anywhere near Danny and would prefer it if she stayed away. But avoidance was not an option for Sophie. Wherever Aaron was, she wanted to be there too.
Not all of her life was so unsettled. Succour came from welcome if unlikely quarters, providing her with brief moments of peace, and easing parts of her conscience she was unaware were troubled.
She hadn’t realised that she was even worried about Tess until a card from her arrived in the mail. As she stood at the head of the lane reading, sheer relief had her reaching for the Range Rover’s bonnet to steady herself. Tess had completed her recovery and was now at Braeburn. From the tone of her writing, she sounded happy and optimistic, but what warmed Sophie the most was Tess’s invitation to stay once she was more settled. Tess couldn’t guarantee they’d get on, but given her age and the unlikelihood Tess would ever have children, one day Braeburn would be Sophie’s. It was time she became acquainted with her legacy.
The other bright light in her life was her father. He now phoned at least once a week to see how she was and to keep her updated on any progress being made with the trustees. Unfortunately he never had much to report on that score. Her grandfather had made his wishes clear. Sophie would not inherit until she turned twenty-five.
To her surprise, Sophie found she didn’t care. There was no reason to. She was running Vanaheim exactly the way she wanted to. More importantly, the bridge of love between father and daughter that she’d thought long collapsed was slowly being rebuilt. Their relationship would never be perfect. They’d been disconnected for far too long, and as much as she tried to forget, residual bitterness at being abandoned by him remained. But the phone calls were something, and meant far more to her than the wads of money that had once been his contemptible substitute for love.
But still the Springbank Cup came closer and with it, the possible end of her fragile relationship with Aaron.
Sophie stood by the kitchen window hastily swallowing a ham and cheese sandwich, and wondering what Aaron was doing. Knowing him, he was either brooding over his bills or sorting through his nominations and acceptances, but she ignored that image in favour of a mild fantasy and pictured him instead sitting at his kitchen table with his sleeves rolled up. A slowly cooling mug of tea sat in front of him, the edges of a barely touched sandwich curling on a plate beside it. He was staring at his walls of photographs but he wasn’t seeing horses and jockeys, or his father. His mind was filled only with her. The woman he loved.
She shook her head and chuckled at herself. Pathetic, that’s what she was. Pathetic. No matter how benign, she had no time for fantasies. The Bureau had issued a storm warning for that evening, and she wanted to get out and move the cattle to the more sheltered paddocks before it hit.
A trail bike revved and then stopped. Sophie cocked her head, listening. The bike sounded close. She waited and sure enough, the engine restarted and the ning-ninging grew louder, the noise channelling through the tunnel made by Vanaheim’s plane trees.
The bike skidded to a halt in front of the stables, leaving a dark streak on the pavers. The rider kicked down the stand and paused to inspect Sammy and Del as they circled and sniffed at the wheels. When Sammy did nothing more than cock his leg, the rider removed his helmet, pulled a cigarette from the top pocket of his jacket, lit it and looked around.
Sophie stood on the back doorstep with the half-eaten sandwich in her hand and called for the heelers. Their ears pricked at her tone, and immediately the sniffing and urinating stopped. Sammy and Del trotted to her side and took up sentry duty at her feet, their eyes intent on Danny.
‘What do you want, Danny?’
He dismounted, hooked his helmet over the bike’s handlebars, and, cigarette dangling from his lips as though he was out on a Sunday stroll, wandered over to peer into one of the stables.
‘Always wanted to have a look at this place,’ he said, turning back to her.
‘Well, now you’ve seen it.’
‘Don’t be like that, Soph.’
‘Don’t call me Soph.’
‘Why not? The boss does. I’ve seen you and the boss on race days. He likes to talk to you up real close, doesn’t he, Soph? Even likes to touch you sometimes when he thinks old Danny-boy won’t see.’ He smiled in a way that made her break out in goosebumps. Del whined and licked her hand. ‘But then, I think we all know the boss has a real thing for you.’
Sophie stayed silent. There was something malevolent about Danny, something evil in his sparkling eyes, a malicious glow cautioning her against danger. She bent slightly and stroked each heeler on the head, but kept her focus on him.
He walked toward her. Sammy growled, but Danny didn’t appear bothered. He stopped at the garden gate and leaned over it, his eyes hard on hers.
‘You know, me and the boss, we’ve been through a lot together.’ He held up a pair of crossed fingers. ‘Like brothers, him and me.'
Sophie blinked. What was Danny on about? Aaron loathed him.
‘Yep. Hakea Lodge’s like my second home. The old man took me on as an apprentice when I was fifteen and I’ve never worked anywhere else. Don’t intend to either.’ He took a drag on his cigarette. Smoke curled around his head in tendrils. ‘Been through a few ups and downs, I’ll admit, maybe seen a few things I shouldn’t have, but even when the old man was losing it and things were going to shit old Danny-boy stuck it out. Loyalty, that’s what that is. Loyalty. I stick by the boss, and the boss sticks by me.’
‘Is that why you’re here? To give me a lecture about loyalty?’
‘Nah. Just wanted a friendly chat. Maybe pass on a bit of advice.’
‘I think I can do without your advice, Danny.’
‘Maybe, maybe not, but I’m gunna give it anyway. The boss …’ He shook his head as if incredulous. ‘The boss, well, let’s just say he’s a good bloke and all but he’s no saint. He’s done some bad things. Real bad things. Things a young girl like you wouldn’t like.’
Her heart hammered but she maintained her bravado. ‘Oh yeah? Like what?’
Danny tapped his nose and then waggled his finger at her. ‘Old
Danny-boy would never rat on a mate. I told you that. But take it from a bloke who knows, you should steer clear of him. After all, he said, tossing the cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his boot, ‘we wouldn’t want to see you getting hurt now, would we?’
Sophie took a step forward, the dogs alert at her side. ‘Are you threatening me?’
Danny held up his hands, his face a veneer of pained innocence. ‘Who, me? Nah. Old Danny-boy wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m just trying to help. Reckon you’d be better off with that Ben bloke than the boss. Someone who isn’t so heartless.’
‘Right. And since when have you been so interested in my wellbeing?’
He winked at her. ‘I’ve always been interested in you, young Sophie. You oughta know that.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m sure not interested in you. So if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ he said over his shoulder as he sauntered toward his motorbike.
Sophie watched him as he donned his helmet and kick-started the bike. He circled the yard twice, waving at her on the final lap before leaning forward, revving the engine, and accelerating up the drive in a spray of stones and dirt.
She looked at the sandwich in her hand. Her hunger had passed, replaced with a sense of nausea, like she’d just eaten something unsavoury. She tore the sandwich in half, tossed the pieces to Sammy and Del and wiped her palms on her thighs, but still her hands felt dirty, like Lady Macbeth with her damned spot.
She shook her head and sighed. She didn’t have time to stand around thinking about Danny. The cattle needed to be moved and there would be opportunity enough to mull things over on the quad bike.
With another rub of her hands against her jeans, she headed for the shed.
She finished moving the stock and took a side trip to measure pasture growth in the paddock she’d renovated in April, and it wasn’t until she was done that Sophie worked it out. She could have smacked herself for failing to unravel the mystery earlier, but she’d been distracted by the sight of Aaron out in one of his paddocks, attacking a small stand of variegated thistle with a hoe. She’d noticed the plants a few days ago and had advised him to eradicate them immediately before they spread. Hakea Lodge had enough to contend with without adding a dangerous plant to the list.
She’d squatted down next to the quad bike pretending to look at ryegrass and clover plants while her real focus remained on him. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up and, although she was too far away to see, she knew the muscles on his forearms would be bulging.
Since that day in the feed room, when he’d almost kissed her, she’d harboured an infatuation for his arms. It was crazy, given so many other parts of him were just as appealing, but his forearms in particular continued to enchant her, and it wasn’t until he’d wandered off that she could turn her mind to other matters.
That Aaron was gone when she worked it out was probably just as well. She would have run across the paddock to yell sense into him if he’d still been there.
Danny knew what Aaron had done and was blackmailing him with it, which made Sophie a threat Danny couldn’t tolerate. She had the power to convince Aaron the past no longer mattered, that he was safe from whatever haunted him. And if that happened, Danny’s hold would be broken. The jockey could squeal all he liked but it would cost him the one thing his festering black heart held dear. Hakea Lodge.
Aaron might end up short a stable jockey, but at least he would be free, and Danny would finally discover that true loyalty didn’t come with conditions.
Twenty-two
Sophie stroked Costa Motza’s cheek. The horse had his head in her lap, dozing in the sunshine. The rain that had drenched the district for almost a week had passed, leaving behind a lightly clouded sky and, out of the wind, patches of sleepy warmth. The other horses leaned across their fences, watching her through half closed eyes, digesting the carrots she’d treated them to. Sophie’s eyes drooped too, seduced by the yard’s peace and its rain-washed shabby beauty.
‘He needs a break,’ said Aaron, leaning relaxed against the rail, as though the change in weather soothed him in a way Sophie could not. He’d wandered out of the house ten minutes before and joined her in soaking up the sun at Costa Motza’s yard.
‘He’s tired, Soph. It’s been a long season for him.’
‘I know.’ She traced her finger around Costa Motza’s eye, admiring the length of his lashes. She turned to Aaron. ‘Can I take him to Vanaheim? With Buck still in work Chuck could do with the company.’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t see why not.’
‘You can come and visit him if you like.’
Aaron frowned. ‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Because he’s such a superstar.’
‘Only in his dreams.’
Her attention returned to Costa Motza. Her leg had gone dead under his weight but she didn’t push him off.
‘What do you think horses dream about?’ she said.
‘I dunno. Buckets of oats. Paddocks full of lucerne. Mints.’
‘Sex?’
‘Costa Motza’s a gelding’ I’m pretty sure he’s lost the urge.’
‘Is that what’s happened to you?’
He made a choked sound, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. ‘What makes you think I’ve lost it?’
She looked at him. His blue eyes were bright, but they were also wary. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going. He’d walk away soon. Turn his back on her as had become his habit the moment their rare conversations turned personal. Hide in the feed room or the house until she’d gone.
‘You hardly look at me any more.’
‘I’m looking at you now.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
They stared at each other until Aaron glanced away.
‘I’m trying to do the right thing,’ he said.
‘It’s okay. However misguided, I know you are.’ Sophie traced her finger up the edge of Costa Motza’s left ear before turning her attention back to Aaron. ‘I’ll walk down tomorrow to pick him up.’
‘If you want.’
They went back to what they were doing – enjoying the sunshine. Puddles of water speckled the yards where the past week’s rain had yet to evaporate or soak away. Horses like Psycho took sanctuary under their shelters where the sand was dry while the mudlarks, or the plain stupid, as Aaron called Costa Motza, slushed around, treading in their droppings and making the pens impossible to clean. When they dried out, Sophie had offered to help Aaron remove the soiled sand and lay down fresh fill but he’d refused. Shovelling shit was Danny’s job, he’d said. Sophie couldn’t have agreed more.
She’d contemplated telling Aaron about Danny’s visit but had decided against it. Aaron already had enough on his plate. The previous week, Pollyester Girl had crossed the line first but, much to Tony Johnstone’s disgust, had been beaten on protest. Pollyanna, tired after a long season, was still racing, but only because Aaron desperately needed the money. The bills, Sophie knew, were once again piling up, taking Aaron’s anxiety levels up with them.
‘I love you,’ she said quietly after several minutes had passed.
‘You’re wasting your time, Soph. I don’t think he can answer.’
‘I wasn’t talking to Costa Motza.’
‘You sure about that?’ He pointed at the horse’s head, still resting on Sophie’s lap. ’I mean, look at you two. You’re like a pair of soppy teenagers.’
‘You can take his place if you want.’
‘Nah, I dribble in my sleep.’
She smiled. ‘Do you?’
‘Yeah, all the time. And I snore.’
‘You’re not putting me off, you know.’
They lapsed back into dozy silence. A bird flew down and perched on the edge of Costa Motza’s feed trough. It spent a moment cocking its head and scrutinising the yard for danger before hopping down inside. Its beak sounded a gentle pock-pock as it picked at leftover feed. Ps
ycho wandered out from his shelter, his feet squelching in the puddled yard, and hung over the fence hoping for attention. No one paid him any.
‘Aaron?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Can we make another bet?’
‘Depends on what it is.’
‘Don’t worry. It won’t be for a kiss this time.’
‘Good.’ He straightened and turned, leaning his back against the top rail and crossing his arms, suddenly mesmerised by the mud at his feet.
Sophie pushed Costa Motza’s head off her lap, slid from the fence and walked toward him. He eyed her warily. She leaned against the rail, copying his stance.
‘This time I want you to promise me something.’
‘I’m not very good at keeping promises.’
‘This is one I’ll think you’ll keep.’
He kicked at a clod of mud and sighed. ‘Sometimes, Sophie, you’re so transparent.’
‘I’d have thought that was a good thing. If you can see through me, at least you know I’m not trying to blackmail you.’
He gave her a sharp look, his eyes wandering over her face. She kept her expression innocent.
‘A bet, Aaron. You could win, or you could lose. Simple.’
He squinted into the sun. ‘I’ll lose whatever happens.’
‘You don’t know what the bet is yet.’
‘You’re wrong. I do. If Rowdy wins, you want me to tell you everything.’
She nodded. ‘But he could lose.’
He faced her again. ‘And what happens then, Sophie?’
‘I take him home and —’ She closed her eyes as she realised what he meant. ‘God, how could I be so stupid.’ She opened them again, staring at him in disbelief. ‘You don’t need my bet, do you? You’ve already made a deal with yourself.’
He nodded.
