Race Girl

by Leigh Hutton

  Tam shook her head. ‘Only mummies and bubbas.’

  A sweet, hot breeze blew up off the land, swirling dust and grass and the heady scent of earth, lifting Elsa’s flowing blonde mane off her creamy coat.

  Tully’s heart revved, a buzz of excitement tearing through her. ‘C’mon, girl!’ she said, kicking the sturdy Elsa up into a trot. Tully posted easily to the mare’s silky smooth stride, down the first dip, then up a rise, until the full force of nature – from the land to the burning blue sky, from the mountains in the distance to the stands of epic white-trunked eucalypts snaking along the river ahead – swept Tully up and had her clucking Elsa into a lope. A squeal escaped her lips and she glanced across at Tam, who easily matched her pace on the fiery little Jacko.

  Tam beamed back, urging Jacko forward. The pounding of the horses’ hooves whipped up a cloud of dust as the girls cantered across the wide-open paddock side by side, leather reins in one hand, their ponytails dancing out behind them in sync with the horses’ silky manes and tails. A mob of grey kangaroos startled and bounded along with them across the plain, before breaking free and ducking under the fence into the tall native grasses in the neighbouring paddock.

  This is so fun! Tully thought, allowing her hips to really loosen and flow with the rhythm of her mare’s joyful stride. Riding, just for the pleasure of it . . . With every stride the nerves shook free, her muscles relaxing to allow her body to move in unison with the horse.

  At the far end of the paddock, Tully hopped off to get the gate. A flock of plovers squawked and swooped them, sending the horses baulking just before Tully could get back on. She got a hold of the reins and pulled herself up as fast as she could, then they set off at a canter, not keen to get pecked on the head by one of the aggressive birds. ‘Must have a nest nearby,’ remarked Tam.

  The girls chatted and slowed to a brisk trot down the gravel road, west towards the banks of the Logan River. The heat was stifling – sweat trickled down Tully’s back and ran into her eyes, her body swelling against her clothes, the heat filling her veins like she was being cooked from the inside out. The horses were really feeling it too – breathing heavily, sweat foaming and turning their coats dark over their shoulders and down their necks.

  Voices rose from the river beyond the gum trees and a cooler breeze swept up to greet them. Tully felt like she was emerging from a heat haze as they trotted down the dip in the road, into the shade of the towering eucalypts. The horses pulled for their heads as they spotted the water, tinted brown and reduced to a low level from lack of rain, but still tempting in the heat. The girls turned for the long narrow beach of sand and rocks to their right, far below the steep sandy banks of the river. A pack of shirtless kids in boardies were swinging off the rope tied from a far-reaching fig tree on the other bank. One of the older boys waved at Tam.

  The girls slipped off the horses’ backs and stripped down to their cozzies, before riding the horses straight into the slow moving current to give them a drink. Elsa dropped and tried to roll, sending Tully straight into the cool murky water. Jacko stood and pawed and pawed, drenching Tam and drawing applause from the kids. He snorted and tossed his head, then let Tam ride him out for a swim to the middle of the river and back, clearly very pleased with himself.

  When the horses were done in the water, the girls fed them carrots out of Tam’s saddle bag and sat chatting, relishing the feeling of the gritty sand beneath their skin. Tully loved the way her body was relaxing into the cool earth, her mind working around and starting to clear away the stress and pain from her mother’s death and the trying months since. The horses grazed at rare shoots of grass shielded from the sun in the shade of a bushy golden wattle growing out of the riverbank.

  The sun had dipped, casting long shadows to the east by the time the girls decided their rumbling bellies couldn’t handle a minute longer without food. They got dressed and dragged the ponies away from the grass, which they’d done a good job of eating to dirt. Back on the gravel road and Jacko pulled into a canter, obviously keen himself for some afternoon tea.

  ‘I’m gonna smash a Big Mac meal,’ Tam turned and shouted at Tully.

  ‘For real, Tam,’ Tully yelled back. ‘You’ve gotta stop eating those things! They’ll kill you!’ Although, all of a sudden, Tully didn’t think a ‘Big Heart-Attack’, as the girls at work often called them sounded so bad the way her stomach was rumbling.

  The paddock with the barbed wire gate and the swooping plovers came into view just ahead. Tully kicked Elsa up, ready to race Tam for the gate, when the sound of a vehicle coming up fast behind them sent her horse skittering forward. ‘Whoa!’ Tully cried, her body in spasm from fear. She struggled to gather the reins and lean back in the saddle.

  Jacko jumped about a foot into the air, sending Tam off balance and nearly over his ears as he darted into the ditch.

  Tully pulled Elsa up and whirled around. A sparkling white Ford Ranger ute had skidded to a stop just behind them. The ute had a red ‘P plate’ turned sideways in the tinted back window and huge chrome mags that caught the sun, nearly blinding her. ‘What the heck are you—’ Tully started to shout, as the driver wound down the passenger window.

  Brandon? Oh no . . .

  ‘Sorry, girls,’ Brandon Weston said.

  Tully’s mouth fell open. Brandon’s hair was messy and wild, his grin charming and wicked from behind the steering wheel. She noticed his teeth: white and perfectly straight, framed by full lips. His torso was tanned and ripped – the only clothing covering his body was a pair of blue boardies. Tully studied the pack of muscle across his stomach, took in his rounded chest and strong biceps, before she was able to tear her eyes away.

  Holy crap.

  ‘Couldn’t see ya until I was nearly on top of you,’ Brandon said, pushing black sunnies up into his hair. ‘You really shouldn’t ride two abreast.’

  Tam managed to settle Jacko and pulled him around to face Brandon. Her eyes were spitting fire until they narrowed on his face, then went wide as she took in his lack of shirt. ‘Brandon Weston,’ she smirked, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. ‘Fancy meeting you out here.’

  ‘Lucky I was taking this little rascal down for a swim.’ A straggly tan dog with big floppy ears popped his head up from the passenger seat, panting and wagging his tail like mad. ‘Onya, mate,’ Brandon grinned, rubbing him behind the ears. The little dog’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

  ‘Do you always drive so hazardously, Weston?’ Tully said, doing her best not to smile at the adorable dog and to keep her eyes off Brandon’s tanned, ridiculously hot body.

  ‘Have to go fast to catch you, Athens,’ he said. ‘Been hoping to see you again—give me your number this time, so I won’t have to go running you down.’

  ‘What was that?’ Tully said, her hands fumbling for the saddle horn. Her eyes went really wide as she tried to comprehend what was happening. She wasn’t sure if it was the blinding effect of the light glinting off the mags or the fireworks of excitement going off inside her, but she was definitely seeing stars. ‘I won’t be giving any Weston my number,’ Tully said finally. She straightened up and raised her chin to look Brandon in the eye, before blurting, ‘But I’ll take yours.’ She had to grip the horn to keep from taking a second tumble off Elsa at the shock of the words that had just come out of her mouth.

  Brandon’s eyebrows shot up, then he smiled wryly. ‘Righto then, Athens,’ he said, studying her face. ‘I’ll text it to ya.’

  Tam burst out laughing.

  ‘Ah . . . nice try,’ Tully said.

  Brandon shook his head, then reached across to dig in his centre console. He must have found a pen, as a few moments later, he was handing Tully a Weston Park business card with his father’s details on the front, and a mobile number scrawled across the back in blue biro. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’ He winked and grinned at Tully, then shifted his ute into gear and crept off down the gravel road.

  ‘Wow, Tulls—what’s gotten into you?!�
� Tam cried, looking across at Tully, aglow with admiration. ‘Girl. Power!’

  Tully let out a long breath as she stared incredulously at the tail of dust disappearing in front of them. ‘Did that just happen?’ she said, tilting her head to the side, pointing in the direction of the ute. Her whole body was shivering and weak with disbelief, but there was also a heat pounding from her core, a strength she’d never before experienced pulsing and building inside her. She pulled back her shoulders, straightening in the saddle. Maybe Dahlia’s cheekiness and confidence is rubbing off on me! Tully thought, her smile thinning into a new found determination.

  12

  Christmas Surprise

  Tully thought she’d never get away from the Thompsons’. Tam blurted the whole ordeal to Judy a few seconds after they got back and Tam and Judy nearly wet themselves in hysterics about the potential flame between Tully and Brandon. Neither seemed to realise the impact it would have on Tully’s family, or on the fate of her farm, or to Brandon’s father, mother, or his whole racing outfit. Neither seemed to care that Tully wasn’t totally convinced that Brandon wasn’t a cocky tosser who should be avoided.

  Both Thompsons certainly did understand how hot he was, however, and how all sensible considerations could easily fly out the window when a boy such as Brandon turned his eyes on you.

  Tully promised that she’d come around again next week for Christmas. She also agreed to Tam (‘I’m not too proud to beg, Tulls, if it means you’ll do it!’) that she’d call Brandon that night. Telling herself she was sick to death of hearing his name and thinking about his face and that body and his ute and the way he’d ridden that grey on the first day they’d met after so many years wasn’t working. No matter what she told herself, whatever she felt for Brandon did seem to be intensified by the fact they were the only two children of rival racing families and that they’d grown up so close to each other, but so far apart. She yearned to get to know him but at the same time, was terrified of what it would bring.

  Brandon Weston wanted my number!

  Brandon Weston likes me . . .

  It sounded ridiculous.

  Tully was utterly relieved when she waved goodbye to Judy and Tam, standing on her front verandah in the beams of their headlights later that night. She prayed they’d listen to her plea as she watched them back out and turn around, head back down her driveway – they’d sworn not to say anything about any of it to anyone. Although tonight she might be too tired to care.

  The next morning, however, as Tully woke to the realisation of what had transpired the day before, she certainly had the energy to care. And worry.

  She found the business card with Brandon’s number in the pocket of Tam’s old jeans that she’d borrowed, now lying in a heap on her floor. Tully stared at the blue scrawl for some time before her alarm went off again and she remembered she hadn’t seen Dahlia or Greg – or Frangi or Bear for that matter – since she’d been away from her farm. She cursed herself for being distracted from what really mattered, jumping out of bed and shoving the business card under her school laptop on her desk, laden with a heavy film of dust. She threw on some clothes and, suddenly ravenous, found some food to eat, as she hadn’t been able to stomach anything after seeing Brandon yesterday afternoon.

  Dahlia greeted her with a whinny when she got down to the stables, right on sunrise. Grace waved from the far end of the row of stalls, dumping Rosie’s morning feed into her bucket as the filly had been worked and hosed down early. Tully raced to the feed room to mix feeds for her two, plus Greg, breathing in the thick scent of lucerne and oats and horse. She was deep in thought about how it would feel to ride Dahlia, standing with her arms slung over her filly’s stall door and listening to her chewing her breakfast, when a voice sounded behind her.

  ‘So what’s your plan for her, then?’

  ‘Geez!’ Tully gasped, spinning around, a hand on her heart. ‘Dad! You scared the crap out of me.’

  Her father stood a distance back, arms crossed, sunnies on and ball cap pulled down low on his forehead. His blue work shorts and shirt hung loose from his frame and there was at least a week’s stubble on his face. Tully knew that his once radiant blue eyes, the same colour as her own, would be bloodshot and squinting behind the camouflaging lenses of his sunnies. She took a slow breath. ‘Well,’ she said, looking to her filly. ‘The vet’s due back after Christmas to check on her progress. Looks like she’s filling out already, and the feed and the grooming and supplements are doing her a world of good. Her eyes are so clear and sharp, Dad, she really is something special. Bucko thinks her legs are as strong as steel, and I know she’s got a big heart. I saw her spirit in the way she wouldn’t let that horrible place, or that horrible man, break her. It won’t take long to build her muscle and get her in shape. She’s gonna be something.’

  Gerald sighed, pushed his hands into his pockets. Tully’s heart rate accelerated and she kept her eyes on Dahlia, afraid that with a word from her father, in an instant, she could just disappear. There was no way she could lose Dahlia a second time.

  Tully sensed her father step forward. He rested a hand on her shoulder and for a moment she froze, not sure where to look or what to do. Then he cleared his throat as if to say something, and was gone just as quickly as he’d appeared.

  Whoa, Tully thought, glancing back. Her father’s frame disappeared into the office, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Tully’s heart soared, a new wave of hope crashing through her. ‘He’s comin’ ’round, Dahls,’ she said, reaching forward to stroke her filly’s soft, shining forelock. ‘It won’t be long until we hit the track.’

  Tully prayed she wouldn’t let her filly down.

  ★

  Tully had too much time to think as she waited for her lift after work on Monday, even though she couldn’t wait to get home and meet the new horses that should have been dropped off that morning. She’d again found herself expecting Brandon to turn up at the drive through in his flash white ute, and wondered if he’d think it rude that she hadn’t called. Should I call him? She stared out at the expanse of the paddock and the glowing, setting sun. What would I even say?!

  Tully was sure she’d have twenty or so missed calls and messages from Tam waiting on her mobile. She didn’t even want to look. There was too much to think about and focus on in her life without some boy mucking things up worse, especially when she was – she hoped – gaining her father’s respect and trust and acceptance of Dahlia. There’s too much to lose . . . She’d heard her father on the phone to the bank and their accountant several times over the last week and knew their situation was still dire, even with the prospect of the new agisters and some winnings from Rosie. Tully needed to get on the track and get her dad back on his game or Weston would get their farm. Brandon will get our farm—what’s he even doing talking to me?! She thought, the anger raging inside her once more. Does he even know his dad’s trying to buy us out?

  She couldn’t call him. And she told herself not to be sad about that. That’s life.

  Grace got to Macca’s just on nightfall, then sped to Crazy Clarke’s so they could stock up on Christmas gear. They had needed a new Christmas tree for the last few years as every year a limb had been bent, broken or lost in the process of Tully’s mum shoving their old tree back into its box. Tully had looked at the cardboard box marked ‘Chrissie’ on the top of the pile in the spare room, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. There were too many memories in there, of happy Christmases past. She didn’t want to upset her father, either, especially when he finally seemed to be emerging from the darkness, fighting back to life. A fresh start for Christmas – she hoped it would help them all.

  Tully bought a fake tree and a set of decorations with little angels, bells and ribbons in silver and gold, along with a pack of red and green tinsel and some fairy lights for the front verandah. Grace had already ordered a turkey from the butcher in the main street. It was set to be an Avalon Christmas with some new fans going fla
t out, a feast that Tully hoped would be busy and cheerful enough to distract them all from the gaping absence at their table.

  Tully was putting the golden angel on the top of the tree the next night after work when Bear hopped up from his spot curled at her feet, scampering and barking at the door. Her Dad’s working cattle dogs were going nuts, too – in their kennels beside the house.

  Bear barked and whined, glancing back at Tully with concerned eyes. ‘Who is it, fella?’ she said, placing the angel carefully on the highest branch of the tree, leaning back to make sure it was straight, before heading for the door. The back of a woman was visible through the screen door. A beaming face greeted Tully as she pushed it open.

  ‘Tully!’ the woman cried, scooping her up in a musky-fragranced hug and spinning her around in the dull verandah light. Tully stood back, taking in the women’s short, shocking red hair, big sunnies pushed up on her head and billowing floral dress. A mobile was ringing loudly in her huge Louis Vuitton handbag.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous!’ The woman said to Tully as she fished her mobile out of her bag with one hand, silenced it. ‘I’m so sorry it’s been so long . . .’ Her eyes swept over Tully and she took a deep breath, one hand flinging to her large round chest, her sharp green eyes hazing over, glistening with tears. ‘Good Lord, you look like her.’ The woman took a moment, then gave Tully another fiercely tight hug, before asking, ‘Did your mum ever tell you that she had a sister?’

  Tully found herself taking a step back into the house.

  The woman took a deep breath, then nodded curtly. ‘Well, I’m Fia,’ she said, grasping Tully’s hand. ‘I’m your aunt, darling, and I’ve stayed away far too long.’