by Des Hunt
‘Which one’s Phoebe?’ asked Mits, as we entered the paddock.
‘See if you can guess,’ I replied. Then I gave a long whistle. Several horses lifted their heads from eating, but only one looked instinctively in our direction.
‘That one!’ said Mits.
‘Right.’ This time I called her name. She broke into a canter, bouncing her way towards us. As always, I felt a surge of affection—she is really something. She slowed as she got nearer, keeping a wary eye on Mits. She treated all strangers with caution.
She need not have worried about Mits, he was moving backwards faster than she moved towards us. It made me remember that he was a city kid. All of this was new to him— this was the first time he’d been on a farm.
I smiled, ‘It’s all right, Mits, she won’t hurt you.’
‘She’s so big,’ he said.
‘Well, actually, she’s quite small for a horse. She’s a Kaimanawa horse.’
I began talking to her, and soon she was nuzzling my face. As I stroked her, I told Mits about the Kaimanawa horses.
‘When Grandad first came here, there were wild horses all over this area. People used to shoot them for dog meat, or just for the joy of killing them. Now the wild horses are restricted to the area around the army land at Waiouru and a bit of the Kaimanawa Ranges. A few stations also have parts set aside for them.
‘The problem now is that they breed too well. Every so often they round some up and sell them. That’s how Mum got Phoebe fourteen years ago. She was only a filly back then.’
I’d been rubbing Phoebe’s head all the time as I spoke. She was now as calm as she would ever be. I turned to Mits: ‘Come and touch her.’
He opened his mouth to refuse, then closed it and slowly moved forward. Phoebe watched him every step of the way—horses can read fear in people. When he finally touched her, I asked, ‘So, which of the horses do you want to ride?’
He froze. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, horses are the way we get around the place here. I’ll be riding Phoebe everywhere, so if you want to come along, you’re going to need a horse.’
‘I can’t ride a horse,’ he said. Now he was starting to shake.
‘I can teach you,’ I said, casually. ‘It’s not difficult.’
‘No, I mean I don’t want to ride a horse.’ Then more quietly, ‘They scare me.’
‘So how are you going to get around?’
He stood there looking more miserable by the minute. I let him stew for a while longer before adding, ‘I suppose you could always use my quad bike.’
The transformation of his face was so dramatic I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. ‘C’mon,’ I said, pulling at his arm, ‘let’s see if it still goes.’
Grandad had given me the quad bike for my ninth birthday. It’s a three-quarter size which is big enough to be more than a toy and small enough for a young person to control. We pulled off the cover and fired it up. For the next half-hour I showed Mits how to safely ride it up and down hills and along slopes. He learned real fast and was almost as good as I was when we were called to dinner.
Every now and then they have a barbecue at Pounamu to celebrate the end of one of the big jobs on the station. That night we were celebrating the end of the autumn muster: the ewes had been brought down from the exposed hill tops, checked over in the yards, and were now out with the rams. Over the winter their lambs would develop, ready to be born five months later in spring. The autumn muster is the signal of the start of easier times for a few months, and everyone is more than ready to celebrate.
That Sunday’s barbecue was roast pig done on a spit. It had been cooking over an open fire all day and was a golden brown by the time we arrived. I knew most of the others there. They ranged from the owner of the property down to the field cadets. Yet a visitor would have difficulty working out who was the boss and who was the worker, they mingled so easily with each other.
As always there was a lot of drinking. Mits and I were allowed one can of beer each; after that, Nanna kept a good watch on us to make sure we didn’t sneak another. After dinner we sat around the fire sipping drinks and swapping yarns until someone brought out a guitar. It was time for some singing.
In a way, singing was the start of everything to do with The Tooth. It was the way Mum and Dad had first met. Grams was a well-known country music singer in Hawke’s Bay. Almost every Saturday night she would put on her suede leather dress, her knee-high boots and white cowboy hat, grab her guitar and head off to some country hall or hill-country station. There, she would wow them with some old-time music or songs she had written herself. When he was old enough, Dad went with her. Grams was singing one night in a woolshed not far from Gentle Annie when Dad spotted Mum for the first time. They started going out together and some time later it ended up with me. Then, when I was old enough, I joined Grams on her gigs. That’s how I learned that I could also sing, and for the last few years of her life I would often join her up on the stage.
That night began with the guitarist singing a few modern songs. It was almost a feature of the barbecues that the songs got older as the night went on.
After that we had a few rowdy ones like ‘Ten Guitars’ before someone called out my name. Then a bit of a chant went up: ‘Time for Tim. Time for Tim.’
I didn’t even have to think about which song I would sing—the guitarist was already playing the introduction to ‘Kaimanawa Horses’.
This is a song that Grams had written and it was easily her most popular composition. It’s a gentle waltz rhythm that suits my voice.
The central North Island is where you’ll find my land,
With its rivers and high mountain range.
And on a fine morning the light of the dawning
Will show many things that seem strange.
For down on the courses you’ll see groups of horses,
A-feeding on what they can find.
Yes, they are the wild ones, the undomiciled ones,
And they are the last, yes, the last of their kind.
Next came the chorus, which is the most popular bit, partly because everyone can sing along, but also because the words reflect people’s thinking.
Kaimanawa horses mean so much to me.
Living their life so unfettered and free.
As wild as the country where they can still roam.
Kaimanawa horses are calling me home.
It’s more than a century since horses first went there,
Imprinting their hooves in the sand.
They’re part of our history and add to the mystery
Of living in this wondrous land.
But there have been rustlers along with some hustlers
Who think so much different to us.
For they think it’s thrilling to go around killing
That wild and most beautiful, beautiful horse.
In between the verses I glanced over at Mits. His face was wide with surprise. He knew nothing about my singing talent—it’s just not something I skite about.
So back in the city they formed a committee
Devoted to helping their cause.
They came here to check them and then to select them,
So they could create the new laws.
Thus now they’re protected and often inspected
To make sure they get the best care.
Those laws are enduring and always ensuring
That they will forever, yes, ever be here.
The singing for the second run through the chorus is always louder than the first, as people start working up for the finish. I noticed that Mits was attempting to sing along with it. He gave me a smile that showed both amusement and admiration. I smiled back and moved onto the fourth verse.
I’ve travelled widely, my family beside me.
I’ve been to the east and the west.
I’ve climbed lofty towers, seen people with powers.
But here is the place I love best.
For
on a clear morning this land I was born in
Awakens the blood in my veins.
So I pray that those awesome Kaimanawa horses
Live freely and never, no never get tamed.
And so to the big finale, where people sing so loudly that my voice always gets drowned. It’s a double run through the chorus with the last line changed slightly and drawn out slowly.
Kaimanawa horses mean so much to me.
Living their life so unfettered and free.
As wild as the country where they can still roam, Kaimanawa horses—have—brought—me—back—home.
The guitarist finished with a strumming of chords and everyone applauded. As the clapping died, Grandad called out, ‘OK, now it’s Michael’s turn. C’mon Mike. C’mon Mike.’
Everyone turned to Mits. His smile changed to panic; he’d never thought that anything like this could happen. Then he amazed me. He opened his mouth and started singing ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’. It was not very loud, but it was in tune and got stronger when the guitar caught up with him. As he finished the first verse and moved to the chorus, everyone joined in as loudly as they had for ‘Kaimanawa Horses’.
He sang all four versus, ending amid deafening applause: everyone knew he’d not found it easy. I clapped as loud as anyone. I was so proud of him—even though he’d used the forbidden D-word at least ten times.
That night, we were lying in the bunkhouse thinking through the events of the day when Mits asked, ‘Why do you like horses so much?’
I thought for a while before answering. ‘Because when you’re riding a horse it is like you’re joined together. The horse makes me stronger and more powerful. At least Phoebe does.’
‘Maybe it’s because you’re so small,’ Mits suggested.
I chuckled. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘You could be a jockey. They have to be small.’
‘It’s been suggested. But I dunno. If I worked with horses all the time, I might stop enjoying riding them for fun. Anyway I’ve got a few years to make up my mind.’
We thought our own thoughts for a while, before I asked, ‘Do you know what you want to be?’
‘Yes,’ he said, definitely. ‘I want to do computer animation like those people who did Lord of the Rings and King Kong.’
‘More fantasy.’
‘Yeah, it’s what I’m good at.’
‘Tell me, Mits, do you really believe that dragons once existed?’
‘Yes! Of course! Almost all people have stories about large reptiles that attacked them and caused all sorts of harm. They wouldn’t have these stories unless some part of it was true.’
‘But they don’t all have wings and breathe fire, do they?’
‘Some do.’ I sensed him going on the defensive.
‘So why haven’t we found fossils of reptiles with wings?’
‘Because we haven’t looked in the right places.’
‘OK, but how could they breathe fire?’
‘Oh, that’s easy. They belch methane.’
‘Methane?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘Yeah, you know the stuff that’s in a cow’s fart. The stuff that causes global warming. It catches fire if you put a match to it. Well, dragons belch it out instead of farting. And, just at the right stage of the belch, they bash their teeth together to form a spark. Then—hey presto—you have fire. See,’ he added proudly, ‘I told you it was easy.’
I laughed. ‘And you believe that?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, laughing with me. ‘Because it makes me feel good. Just like you riding your horse.’
I couldn’t argue with that.
Chapter 9
It was Wednesday before we got the chance to go searching for The Tooth. I’d tried to convince my grandparents that we could go by ourselves on Phoebe and the quad, but Grandad wouldn’t let us, mainly because we would have to travel on the main road for about ten kilometres of the trip. I could see his point: it would be dangerous for both horse and bike if a big truck-and-trailer unit thundered by.
I hadn’t told my grandparents the real reason for wanting to visit the Waitea River. All I’d said was I wanted to see the place before it became a lake. They thought that was a good idea and were prepared to go out of their way to help. Grandad even offered to go with us, until I said we wanted to spend the whole day there. In the end we found a solution. On Wednesday Nanna and Grandad were going to Taihape for a hogget sale and they could take us most of the way. That suited me fine, as it meant Mits and I didn’t have to go to Taihape. I’d been to the sheep sales a couple of times—for me, they meant a long, boring day. It’s not as if Grandad buys anything. To him and Nanna it was a day out with the chance to meet friends and catch up with the gossip, and there’s always plenty of both in country areas.
So, on Wednesday morning they dropped us off at the end of the road that led to the park on the river. We were to be back there in seven hours. We figured that would give us plenty of time.
In my mind I had tried to envisage the park. My images were nothing like reality. To begin with, bulldozers had been working, creating a new car park and picnic area. This was quite some way from the original park. A sign told us it was a lakeside park developed by the electricity company.
We walked down to the old car park. A sign warned us that the area was to be flooded and should be considered dangerous any time from the first of February.
As we wandered around getting a feel for the place, Mits asked, ‘You remember any of this?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. I can’t believe that something very important in my life happened here and I’ve no memory of it.’
He looked at me, and asked gently. ‘How do you feel?’
I smiled. ‘I feel good. I’m pleased I came and saw it before it was flooded.’ In fact I was surprised how good I felt. I had expected to be emotional about the place. Instead, I was feeling the warm glow of completion, as if I’d been putting off something for too long, and now I’d finally done it.
‘Are you ready for the quest then?’ he asked.
I lifted our supply bag onto my back, and replied, ‘Yes, I’m ready. Lead on, Sir Michael.’ He chuckled and moved towards a bit of a path that led downstream beside the river.
It soon became plain that the path was a goat track when we disturbed a group grazing on a steep hillside. Wild goats, pigs and deer live in the area, although Grandad says not in the numbers they once did.
While the aerial photos in The Quest didn’t show the track, it was easy to see where we were, and how far it was to the first possible landing area. After about fifteen minutes, we rounded a bend and there it was: a small, sandy beach alongside a remarkably green piece of flat land, surrounded by cliffs with lots of bare rocks. It was just the sort of place we wanted.
Unfortunately it wasn’t the place. We spent an hour searching the base of the cliffs without finding any clue that would lead to The Tooth. No ongaonga trees, no Red Admiral butterflies, no shining crystals, and certainly no fossils of any form.
Locations two, three and four were just as bad. By then we had used up four of our seven hours. We sat on a large boulder by the river, eating lunch and discussing progress.
‘This could take forever,’ complained Mits.
‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘Have you got a better idea?’
‘You’ve got to remember more, or we’ll never get anywhere.’ There was a whine in his voice that I recognized as the first sign of anger.
‘I can’t remember stuff that’s gone forever,’ I said with some annoyance. Although, even as I said it, I had the feeling, yet again, that I was missing something important.
‘Well if you don’t, then we’ll mess around all holidays without finding a thing.’
I kept quiet. When he got like this it was better for him to work his own way out of it.
‘Throw me the bag,’ he ordered.
I did, and he pulled out The Quest. Angrily, he thumbed through the pages until he got to the place showing the five mos
t likely sites. ‘Look!’ he shouted, stabbing a finger at the page. ‘There’s hundreds more places than the ones we marked.’
I nodded. There weren’t hundreds, but there would have been at least another twenty before the dam.
‘Let’s go back, we’re wasting our time here,’ complained Mits.
‘No! We’ve come this far and there’s only one more place to go. We should check it out. If it’s not the right place, then we’ll have to work out another plan.’
‘I’m going back.’
‘Well, I’m not.’ I stood and climbed down from the boulder. I walked a few metres downstream before turning and calling back, ‘C’mon, Mits. We might as well get it over and done with.’ Without waiting for a reply, I continued moving down the river.
‘Wait!’ he yelled.
I turned and looked back. ‘What?’
‘Look,’ he said in a softer voice, pointing to the top of the cliff opposite. There were two people up there looking down at us.
I waved to them, but there was no response from the two on the cliff. Instead, they turned to each other and we saw them in profile. It looked like a man and a boy.
‘That’s Sam Mason,’ said Mits. ‘I’d know that shape anywhere.’
He was right: the profile was a perfect match. ‘The other guy must be his cousin.’
They stared at us for a while longer, before turning and walking away and out of view. A horrible feeling formed in my stomach: I’d tried to wipe Sam Mason from my mind. I’d almost convinced myself that if he was on holiday up here then the place was so big it was unlikely we would ever see him. Now I knew that was a stupid hope. Not only was he here, but he was in exactly the area where we’d expected to find The Tooth.
I turned to Mits. ‘We can go back if you want.’
‘No!’ he said, harshly. ‘We go on. We’ve got to find The Tooth before Mason does. I’m not letting that thug beat us to it.’
The fifth place was as useless as the previous four. We did a quick circuit of the canyon, only to find that there were no ongaonga trees. Then we struggled up a dry creek bed until we reached the top of the cliffs and the surrounding land. That should have been easier going, but it wasn’t: it looked like the land hadn’t been farmed for years, and the manuka had reached an awkward height.
