Rose River

by Margareta Osborn

  ‘Anyway,’ Stirling’s voice said, right by the workbench where, only moments before, she’d been reliving the memory of their bodies hard up against each other. ‘I came to ask if you can ride a horse, Jaime?’

  Jaime kept her head down to give herself a moment. A horse? The only horse she’d ever ridden and stayed on lived on the carousel at Luna Park.

  ‘I’ve got some cattle in scrubby country over the next ridge,’ he explained. ‘It’s Crown land – a flora and fauna reserve – so I have to get them out.’

  ‘I’ll get my horse, Stirling,’ Tiffany said in a confident voice. ‘He’s down at Aunty Irene’s, not far away.’

  Jaime felt someone kick her under the table. Youch! She glanced up and caught her mother’s widened eyes and flick of the head. Her meaning was as clear as a bird’s call just before rain: ‘Go on, say you’ll do it!’

  Like hell. The last and only time she’d got on a real horse –

  ‘Jaime? Did you hear what I said?’

  Stirling had taken a chair not twenty centimetres from her and was drinking his glass of milk. She could smell his virile scent – a mixture of deodorant or aftershave along with clean sweat – and feel the electric energy jumping across the small space between them.

  She lifted her head to reply just as Irene said, ‘I’ll just take this,’ and reached between Jaime and Stirling to grab Jaime’s empty cup. ‘And how about a slice of cake?’ she went on, pushing a large plate past Jaime’s shoulder, forcing Stirling to move his chair away slightly. The satisfaction on the old woman’s face was apparent. What an old cow, Jaime thought.

  ‘Actually, I have ridden a horse,’ she heard herself say. ‘If you give me a quiet one, I think I could stay on long enough to help.’

  She was rewarded with a smile. It was so sexy and encouraging, it made her stomach feel like she had suddenly descended in a lift. Stirling chugged down some more milk and said, ‘Great, I’ll go saddle up.’

  Marty staggered into the kitchen wearing only his jocks, his eyes still semi-closed. He performed a stretch towards the ceiling. His body was gym-toned but as pink as a side of ham. ‘Geez, my head’s sore. I could do with some coffee, ladies. Long black with two sugars.’

  ‘Ummm … Marty,’ said Jaime, ‘we have visitors.’

  His bleary eyes snapped open and his hands flew to cover his underpants.

  The chair beside Jaime scraped violently against the floor and Stirling strode towards the sink. He slammed his empty glass into the stainless tub and said, ‘I’ll meet you after lunch, girls, down at the yards.’ Then he grabbed his hat from the top of the fridge, nodded to the older women, and marched out the door.

  Tiffany jumped up and followed. As they strode along the outside path, Jaime could hear her saying, ‘We really don’t need her help, Stirling. I’m sure you and I can do it on our own.’ Busters One and Two drowned out the rest of their conversation with joyful barking.

  ‘Well, he’s in a good mood,’ said Marty, sitting down beside Jaime in the now vacant chair.

  Jaime glowered at him. He really was a pig.

  ‘Marty Berensforde,’ said an indignant Blanche, ‘go and get some clothes on before you sit at my table.’

  Irene’s bushy eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. ‘Your table?’

  ‘I mean, Jaime’s table.’

  Irene’s eyebrows actually disappeared.

  ‘I mean, Valerie’s table,’ Blanche said, ‘although I don’t know Valerie.’

  ‘Well, I do,’ said the other woman. ‘And you, young man, should be ashamed of yourself. Valerie would never have such an ill-mannered person as you in her home.’

  Her eyes moved to take in Jaime and Blanche, as if they shouldn’t be there either.

  Jaime’d had enough. She got up and grabbed Irene’s half-full cup from beneath her nose. ‘Finished? Oh, good. Sorry, Irene, but I have to get going. I’ve got a horse ride to fit into the day. And I’m sure after last night’s big gala you have lots of cleaning up to do.’

  Irene’s arm was outstretched, reaching for her tea. ‘Susan and Sharyn are doing it.’

  ‘Really? Well, I’m sure they need your help. Those two rely on you so much.’

  Jaime smiled sweetly as she tipped Irene’s remaining drink down the sink with relish, then waggled her eyebrows at her mother. C’mon. Help me here!

  ‘Yes, I must go and wake up Dave,’ said Blanche, finally getting the message. ‘He can help with the cattle too. So can you, Marty. Go get dressed.’

  ‘But what about my coffee?’ cried Marty in a plaintive tone.

  ‘What about it?’ said Jaime. ‘You’ve got two hands. Make it yourself, after you’ve put some clothes on.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Go!’ She pointed towards the door. The man was worse than a four year old.

  ‘Alright, alright, I’m leaving,’ he grumbled. ‘See you in the next life, Irene – that’s if Jaime here has anything to do with it.’

  He headed towards the passage door, which led to the main bedrooms and was completely the wrong direction. She and her mother had dumped him on the couch in the lounge last night. Much easier than trying to manhandle him into the back room where he usually slept. What was he playing at?

  Irene gave Jaime a malicious smile as she called after Marty, ‘Oh, I’m sure she adores you really. They do say the most interesting relationship is a love–hate one.’

  Jaime just turned and walked out the door. She had more important things to do.

  Like learning to ride a horse.

  Chapter 28

  She was about to die, she decided, looking up at the huge, four-legged animal standing in front of her.

  Stirling had led the mare, Echo, up to a block of wood. ‘To give you a leg-up,’ he’d said, like she knew what she was doing.

  She darted a glance towards Tiffany, who was mounting her own horse near the gate. She just seemed to spring up from the ground, swing a leg over the horse’s back mid-action, and there she was, all cosy in the saddle. Feet in stirrups. Reins in hand. Ready to move off.

  Jaime found herself whispering towards heaven for the umpteenth time in as many weeks: ‘Please, Dad, help me through this.’

  ‘I’ll grab your leg and give you a hoist, okay?’

  Stirling was behind her, his hand sliding down her calf. Oh my, the feel of his fingers through the denim … The heat coming off him was so scorching she may as well have been wearing shorts. The memories came hard and fast. Both of them naked in the bath at the Lake Grace Hotel. His arms around her, soaping her skin, her belly, her breasts …

  Get your mind on the job, Hanrahan!

  ‘You ready?’ he said behind her. ‘Away you go.’

  Up she went. Up and over.

  Right over.

  THUMP! Her tailbone hit the ground so hard her brain was buzzing.

  She lay there, flat on the dirt, listening to Tiffany’s squeals of laughter.

  ‘Did you see that? Oh my God, so hilarious. You’re supposed to sit on the horse, Jaime. Oh, so funny!’

  ‘You okay, Princess?’ said Stirling’s voice from somewhere above her.

  She peeped out through one eye. He sounded really concerned. She opened the other eye and looked directly at him, saw the muscle at the edge of his mouth quirk.

  ‘You were supposed to stop halfway,’ he said.

  She ran her tongue around her teeth, checking they were all intact, before she mumbled, ‘You pushed me too hard.’

  ‘So it’s all my fault?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Okay. I guess I can deal with that. My shoulders are broad.’

  Indeed they were. Gorgeously so. Jaime wanted to reach up and pull him down towards her.

  ‘Is she going to try again or is she staying here?’ said Tiffany.

  She’d walked her horse over and was sitting there picking at something on her nail cuticle, like she really didn’t care whether Jaime was coming or not. Which she wasn’t, obviously. She couldn’t
even get on the horse let alone ride it.

  ‘We’re going to have another go. I gave her too much of a leg-up,’ said Stirling, holding out his hand to Jaime.

  She looked long and hard at it. To do, or not to do, that was the question.

  ‘C’mon, one more try,’ he said, beckoning her.

  She closed her eyes. This wasn’t a competition she could win, but it would give her a chance to prove to herself (and others) that she wasn’t a shirker, no matter what this Tiffany chick thought or said.

  ‘Okay, cowboy, let me at it again.’

  Despite her bottom being numb with pain, Jaime managed to clamber onto Echo’s back on the second go. It wasn’t a pretty mount, but she was on and that was all that mattered. The horse, God bless her four white socks, stood as still as any statue in the Fitzroy Gardens while Jaime got her feet into the stirrups and took hold of the reins, desperately trying to copy the man beside her on his big white steed.

  ‘That’s right,’ he was saying, ‘a hand on each rein. Shorten them up a little. Well done.’

  Tiffany had already gone on ahead and was giving her horse a canter. She looked spectacular, glued to the saddle, her movements sure and rhythmical.

  Jaime wondered what Stirling thought of Tiffany’s riding. But she really didn’t need to ask. The look on his face was sufficient. He was watching the other girl with an expression of approval.

  ‘C’mon, Stirling,’ yelled the Tosser. ‘Come ride with me!’

  But he waved and shouted back, ‘I’ll stick with Jaime. Make sure she stays put. You go on up ahead. You’ll see where the cattle are camped.’

  That’d be right. Now she was a fun-stopper.

  ‘You go, I’ll be right,’ she told him.

  ‘I’ll stay here, thanks, if you don’t mind.’

  Great. He clearly felt an obligation to make sure she stayed on the damned horse. So much for her being a help.

  ‘Look, I’m fine. Echo’s just plodding along, and I’m up here not down there.’ She pointed to the ground. ‘What else could go wrong?’

  What indeed? Right at that moment a gunshot rang out from along a deep valley, then travelled up towards the normally snowy peaks high in the Great Divide. It was so loud, it sounded like a crack of lightning hitting the ground right beside her.

  Echo snapped sideways in fright, with Jaime just barely clinging to her back. The horse plunged forwards, bolting.

  Jaime could hear Stirling behind her yelling, ‘Pull back on the reins! Pull back on the reins!’

  But she couldn’t. She was terrified. She clung on with everything she had to whatever piece of leather or mane her fingers found.

  ‘Hold onto your saddle!’ she heard Stirling roar.

  Holy hell! She was done for. Jaime couldn’t think what to do. Horror and panic fought a frantic duel in her mind. There was no way she could stay on this thing. In fact, she was slipping sideways …

  A horse came thundering up alongside her and a hand grabbed at the reins flapping around Echo’s neck. She heard Stirling’s voice talking to Echo, saying, ‘Steady … steady …’ as he took control. She saw his strong arms flexing to pull the horse to a halt.

  It seemed like eons, but was probably only minutes, before Jaime felt her horse’s pace slow. She remained where she was, a lump of flesh in the saddle, clinging on desperately. Her heart was pounding, her limbs buzzing in shock.

  Eventually Echo’s gait slowed to the point where she was dancing around Stirling’s horse. Jaime didn’t wait for Echo to stop completely – she was out of there. Jumping to the grass, she swayed. Her legs felt like rubber bands. She tripped over her own feet and landed on the ground with a thump for a second time that day.

  ‘You okay, Princess?’ said Stirling.

  Talk about a rewind conversation. She looked up to him on his horse, standing in his stirrups and craning his neck to see her over Echo’s back. He was every bit the knight on a great white charger. Her mind snapped a picture of him up there while the rest of her just sank into a puddle of dirt.

  Tiffany came bowling up with a clatter. She had her horse perfectly under control. ‘Don’t tell me she’s on the ground again? She alright?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Jaime.

  At the same time, Stirling said, ‘No, she’s not.’

  They frowned at each other.

  Tiffany laughed. ‘You have to admit, babe, she does seem to like the ground a whole lot better than the horse.’

  Babe? Jaime’s frown deepened to a scowl. And why did the woman always have to talk like she wasn’t there?

  ‘It wasn’t her fault,’ said Stirling. ‘A hunter let off a shot up in the scrub.’ He looked less than impressed, but Jaime wasn’t sure if his contempt was for her or the hunter.

  ‘I’m perfectly okay. But I think I’ll walk home from here,’ she said, taking things into her own hands.

  She got up, willed her legs to behave themselves, and started to limp back towards the homestead.

  ‘Mmmmm … Jaime?’ said Stirling.

  She swung round and glared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘You sure you’re alright?’

  Of course she wasn’t alright. Her limbs felt like water, her nerves were shot to pieces and she didn’t know how the hell she was going to make it back to the house, but, ‘I’m utterly A-okay,’ she said in a tone that defied him to say otherwise.

  He looked like he was going to protest, then obviously thought better of it and ruffled his hand through his hair instead. His hat must have come off while he was rescuing her.

  ‘C’mon,’ said Tiffany. ‘She’s perfectly capable of walking back to the house. If we don’t move now, we’ll never get those cattle out of the reserve before dinner.’

  Jaime would give her cattle, the stuck-up, insolent … cow!

  ‘If you’re sure?’ said Stirling. He was still looking grumpy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jaime, spinning on the heels of her Colorados. ‘Good luck.’ She started trudging away.

  ‘Uh … Jaime?’

  She spun back. ‘What now?’

  ‘The house is that way,’ he said, pointing in the opposite direction.

  Shit. ‘Really?’

  At his nod, she stiffened her spine and turned nonchalantly to walk the other way. Of course she knew that. She was just testing to see if he knew.

  Tiffany giggled.

  She swore, if that girl didn’t put a sock in it, she was going to climb up on that horse and deck her. Then she revised the thought. Climb onto a horse? Most certainly not. In fact, never again. But if the Tosser uttered so much as another squeak, she’d haul her off the horse with that stirrup thing.

  Jaime didn’t bother turning to watch them ride away. There was only so much agony a girl could take in one day.

  Chapter 29

  Jaime met Marty and Dave driving in Marty’s flashy ute along the track that led to the homestead. She could see the roof of the old house beckoning and pictured its deep bath, the glass of alcohol she was going to use to swallow down a Panadol or two or three – bugger not mixing your meds – and the clean clothes waiting for her in her room.

  ‘Hey there, Jaime,’ said Dave in a jovial voice. He leaned out the passenger window and looked at the state of her legs. ‘You been in the wars?’

  She glanced down too. Her Sass & Bide jeans would never recover. ‘You could say that,’ she said with a big sigh. ‘What are you two doing?’

  Marty leant forward. ‘Just been having a scout around for some deer sign.’

  ‘Find anything?’ she asked, although she wasn’t the slightest bit interested.

  ‘Yeah, heaps! We even took a shot!’

  So it was his fault. The slimy, horrible, arrogant bastard.

  ‘Missed though,’ said Dave. ‘Never done that before. Damn thing moved like the wind. Something spooked it as I was squeezing the trigger.’

  So it wasn’t Marty’s fault. Just as well.

  ‘Reckon it was those cattle.’ Marty pointed u
p the valley. ‘I could hear them moving around and bellowing. There was a horse in there too.’

  So it was really Tiffany’s fault.

  ‘It was probably you guys,’ said Marty, focusing back on Jaime. ‘You were shifting cows, weren’t you?’

  ‘Well, I was trying,’ said Jaime. Kind of. If she’d managed to stay on the horse.

  ‘We’re heading back to the house. Want a ride?’ Dave asked kindly.

  Did she ever! Just not in the same space as Marty. ‘I’ll jump on the back.’

  But even that proved problematic. Her legs wouldn’t follow her brain’s instructions and her jump ended up being a roll, scrabble and cling. It didn’t matter though. Nothing really mattered at that moment except getting back to the house.

  Jaime entered the kitchen an hour or so later, freshly bathed, smelling like the lavender salts she’d poured liberally into the tub and feeling a million dollars – comparatively speaking. She was greeted by a frowning Blanche.

  ‘I really need some more cream for this recipe,’ said her mother.

  A delectable aroma floated around the kitchen. Jaime sniffed the air and thought she detected mushrooms. ‘What are you making?’

  ‘Chicken stroganoff. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be. You couldn’t go and get me some more cream, could you?’

  ‘Where’s Dave?’

  ‘Having a lie-down, and I’ve no idea where Marty’s disappeared to.’

  That wasn’t a bad thing. Anyway, a trip to Burdekin’s Gap might be a nice diversion. At least Ryan appreciated her.

  Half an hour later, Jaime found herself holding a leash, which was connected to a goat. A loud maaa-ing goat with a very full udder.

  ‘Please, Jaime. Just for a couple of days,’ pleaded Ryan. ‘It’s causing insurrection around here.’ He flapped his arms at the surrounding mess. ‘As if I haven’t got enough on my plate.’

  ‘It’s your own fault,’ said Jaime, incensed that Ryan had allowed a pack of kids to harass the nanny goat in the first place. ‘The poor animal was only trying to get away from those little brats. Of course it was going to run into the safety of the shop.’