by Lucy Walker
‘Well, you’re not worrying.’
‘Rick loves it. My heart goes with him. He loves the riding … not because it’s wild but because he uses his head. And sees to it that Hill-Billy uses his head too.’
‘He’s a born leader,’ said Beatrix.
Kate wondered at Hal so amiably taking second place to Rick. Probably there was a tradition of Rick’s leadership in these things. She remembered Bellew.
‘The boundary rider? He wasn’t with the men?’
‘No,’ said Mrs. Benallen. ‘He camped down the river. Probably he has the brumbies under observation.’
‘It’s lucky it’s midsummer,’ Beatrix said. ‘The water and feed’s keeping the mob around. Otherwise they’d have made across inland by now.’
‘Is a runaway colt always the reason for a brumby hunt?’ Kate asked.
‘The mob comes in sometimes after a mare,’ Mrs. Benallen said. ‘Then there’s times when the cocky farmers want a horse or two on the cheap and they’ll organise a hunt just to pick up a few foals for themselves. About twice a year … there might be a hunt.’
Toasting their toes and drinking tea they talked about former hunts. Kate listened curiously. How formal and social a fox hunt sounded in comparison. In this riding through treacherous forest and rocky gully country there was something daring as well as risky. No wonder people in Blackwood admired a good horseman.
With daylight it grew rapidly warmer. Not only were the feet withdrawn from the oven but the persons were withdrawn from the kitchen. Soon jackets and mufflers were discarded.
Mrs. Benallen added some dainties to the lunch box Riley had put up for the girls, and with pockets full of Allandale walnuts and almonds they mounted again and set off through the forest.
This was like a fairy-tale ride to Kate. The forest smiled in the shine of the early morning. All around the dew hung on the sticky faces of the creeper flowers. The leaves of the gum trees were dark, shining and resinous. On the ground broken sticks of ancient trees crackled under the horses’ hoofs.
The girls loitered on their way to the gully. Sometimes when the track was clear they broke into a smart gallop. Sometimes they cantered or trotted along soberly. Several times they stopped. Beatrix cocked an ear to the wind.
‘Can’t hear anything,’ she said. ‘If they found the mob they haven’t got them running up the river bed yet. Maybe they scattered and had to be rounded up.’
‘Is there much to that?’
‘You bet. Those wild horses are faster than the bred horses. It takes cunning as well as speed. Still the men love it.’
Towards midday they were skirting a high rocky wall of the gully.
‘They’ll bring them in down there,’ Beatrix said. ‘When they’re cornered they cut out the colt. Usually they come home quietly … well and truly fed up with the rough ways of bush living. Anything for a stable and civilised food!’
They dismounted and Beatrix took out the thermos flask.
‘No fires allowed,’ she said. ‘It would frighten the brumbies off. And we have to get on the other side of the gully.’
Kate lay back on the tiny bushes under the shade of a red gum. She munched sandwiches and reflected on the peacefulness of everything around.
‘What a heavenly day … even if a little warm.’
‘Listen!’
Beatrix was sitting upright, one hand raised.
Far and distant came the long-drawn-out coo-ee of a man on the ranges.
‘That’s it …’ said Beatrix. ‘They’ve got them. Come on and pack up. We’ve got to get out of sight … and smell.’
‘Coo-ee … Coo-eee … Coo-eeeee!’
It was like a voice from another world.
Down below them, in the walls of the gully, a tiny voice like a child’s came back.
‘Coo-ee … Coo-eee … Coo-eeeee!’
Beatrix, a wetted finger to the wind, led the horses behind the low trees fringing the southern side of the gully. They were well out of sight and sound.
‘Didn’t Rick say to stay on the horses?’
‘Oh nuts! We wouldn’t see anything that way. Now we can get in a bit closer. At least we’ll see the mob race in. Let’s hope they cut out in that open space down there. We can see them.’
Shrill calls were now echoing across the river hills and the crack of a stockwhip came like the shot of a gun. As the girls waited the cracks became more and more frequent, nearer and nearer.
The air was full of shouts and cries. ‘Over there,’ Beatrix said, pointing to the north. Then … ‘Over there … Listen! Over there! They’re closing in. For heaven’s sake listen to the racket! You’ll see the mob in a minute.’
The air reverberated with cries, shrill calls and the cracking of stockwhips. They came from the north, west and south. Yes, the men were closing in.
Beatrix caught Kate’s arm.
‘Look!’ she whispered.
The brumby mob, manes and tails streaming, was racing up the dried creek bed towards the wall of the gully. The leaders perceived the trap and wheeled to the north. They raced madly towards the northern slopes. A horseman came over the rise at full gallop, his stockwhip cracking.
‘Hoo … hoo … hooo!’ he shouted. Another horseman came over the top of the gully farther round to the west.
Squealing shrilly, the horses raced, slipped and fell back into the well of the gully. They wheeled and made for the southern slopes. Three horsemen were on the top. They raced over the brink and down towards the horses.
The air was rent with screaming animals. They turned to the west, from where they’d come. Stockwhips were cracking there too. Still the horses persisted on towards the west.
‘Now’s it,’ whispered Beatrix. ‘Either they’ll break through or the men will turn them. Who’s there? Rick … Sixpence … Gummy Ray! They ought to hold them. Come on, Kate … don’t miss this … it’s the big moment.’
Beatrix stood up and, crouching a little, ran lightly towards the edge of the gully.
‘Don’t fall down … Beatrix!’
‘Don’t be silly. I never fall.’
Below them the horses had stopped. They stood bunched, their tails in the air, their heads high.
‘Ssh! This is it. Watch carefully. They’ll charge or they’ll turn back into the gully. Then the men will come down the sides and they’re theirs …’
‘There’s no one this side.’
‘Doesn’t have to be. It’s too steep!’
A shrill drawn-out scream echoed round the valley. The stallion reared in the air … wheeled and raced back to the eastern end of the gully to the steep wall above which Beatrix and Kate lay watching. The mob, scattering, wheeled and raced after the stallion. The leader kept a little south of centre. He raced on regardless that soon a wall of granite would block him. He could be going to dash himself against it, and demand by example the destruction of his mob.
But no. That stallion had been here before. Swerving again a little to the south he raced at an angle between the rock formations up the corner sides of the gully. That there was any foothold there was incredible. Yet the horse never slackened his frenzied race. His feet never missed. Never once slipped on a rock face.
Above him Hal and two men swung their whips and shouted. Incredible as it seemed, the stallion, his streaming mob behind him, kept on.
Beatrix was standing up now.
‘Golly,’ she said. ‘They’ll have to fall back. The poor beasts will be killed.’
Halfway up the sides the stallion wheeled again and came on in a direct line for the girls.
‘My God!’ said Beatrix. Kate stared down, her eyes following Beatrix’s horrified gaze. The horses were coming up a cleft in the rock sides. Beatrix stood frozen. Kate, kneeling, was fixed to the earth.
It would be minutes only.
Hal saw what was happening.
Riding like a madman, no shouting or cracking of stockwhip now, he raced over broken boulder, his horse’s feet clawing at the gul
ly edges; flint and tree-bark flying. Kate saw the whites of Roany’s eyes, the foam flowing from its mouth like snow … blood, where the spurs tore his sides.
She never quite saw what happened next.
Roany bore down on them and she saw Beatrix lifted up in the air. Roany raced on. She felt the wind of his hoof-beats behind her.
Down below a mad horseman was in amongst those brumbies on the hillside. He was racing with them, stockwhip whining, cracking, snaking through the air. Kate thought he had come up the perilous wall where even the brumbies had not dared, his horse gallant, a streak of lightning.
A great bay horse came steadily from the trees behind her.
‘Up!’
It was Bellew. His voice was enough. It gave release to her limbs. She sprang up, caught Bellew’s hand. Her foot shot forward and found where his boot was turned up and rock-firm. She swung up in front of him.
Bellew pulled up. One arm was round her and one arm swung his stockwhip. Kate crouched down against him, knowing he still had a part to play. The whip sang and snapped, splitting air above her.
Slowly, quietly the din below died away. There was the sound only of men calling to one another; an occasional stockwhip cracking; of many horse’s hoofs slipping and crashing down the gully side.
When she felt Bellew’s arm relax, she straightened herself.
‘’Scuse me, madam!’
Bellew’s stockwhip was under his arm and he was carefully removing his hat. Kate twisted round and looked up at him.
There was nothing much she could say. She lifted up her hand and laid it on his cheek for a moment.
‘Just one pommy looking after another! If I had to be saved I’m glad it was by an Englishman.’
She slipped off the bay’s neck and jumped lightly to the ground. He was looking down at her with his pale, pale grey eyes. They were still half-closed and expressionless.
‘I was here, madam. Just behind you. It was Mr. Benallen in front there who stopped the mob.’
Kate looked down.
Beaten, foam flecking their necks, the horses were quietly being circled by the stockmen. She saw the horses cut off one by one and sent flying out of the gully mouth. She saw the colt standing alone, shivering. Then Sixpence taking his mane and riding off towards the river bed. She saw Rick riding steadily round the side of the gully wall towards her. Blood flecked the sides of Hill-Billy too.
‘Bellew,’ she said, ‘Where’s Hal?’
His pale eyes had no expression.
‘Miss Beatrix was standing up. I don’t think he saw you, madam. You were on the ground.’
She caught hold of his bridle as he wheeled the bay as if to ride away.
‘Bellew, you saw me!’
‘I was behind you, madam. Here comes Mr. Benallen. He will look after you.’
Bellew rode steadily away into the bush behind them.
‘Howdy, Kate!’
Rick swung off his saddle and came towards her. Kate knew she was swaying. For a minute she closed her eyes. Rick held out a hand and she took hold of it. She would never let it go.
‘You all right, Kate?’
Her eyes flew open.
‘Are you all right, Rick? I saw you … down there … on that gully wall.’
He grinned.
‘The ride of my life! Wouldn’t have missed it for a million pounds. ’
There was a coo-ee and a coo-ee from the gully. Rick cupped his hand around his mouth and answered. The horsemen rode out on to the plain and away towards their homes.
‘Where are your horses, Kate?’
She pointed back amongst the trees.
‘Come on, we’ll get them.’
He had hold of her hand and with his other he led his horse.
Kate clung to his hand. She squeezed out one wry smile.
‘Just sisterly …’ she said.
‘Just brotherly …’ he said. He put her hand against his cheek.
It was after that she decided she’d better sit down or she might faint.
Rick found the lunch box and the thermos still half full of tea.
‘Let’s have a picnic,’ he said, and poured the tea for her. She leaned back against a tree but said nothing about feeling faint.
She guessed Rick knew anyway. Halfway through a mug of tea she remembered to look at him and wonder that he looked so calm and unruffled. Certainly there were black smears across his forehead and one cheek where blackened twigs of burnt trees had brushed him. The parts of his fingers that showed out of the leather half-gloves were also brown and black in patches. Except for these marks of labour there was nothing about him to show he had just had the ride of his life.
‘How calm you are, Rick!’
‘Why not? It’s a fine day … and I’ve a nice girl for company.’
She stared down into the mug.
‘Where’s Hal?’ she asked, without looking up.
There was a tiny silence.
‘Well, let’s suppose Beatrix is the fainting kind. He’s very fond of her, you know. I guess he’s had to lay her off somewhere.’
‘I don’t think Beatrix would faint …’
‘Well, let’s pretend. How about you coming home with me, Kate? I guess Mother would love to pretend you need sal volatile and a good feed.’
She looked up, smiling, into his face.
‘I’d love to come home with you, Rick.’
Chapter Four
Kate had more shocks in store for her. She had been brought up to believe in chivalry. Certainly she had had it to-day … of a magnificent kind … from Bellew and Rick Benallen. But she had not had it from the one from whom she should most expect it.
She supposed Hal had not seen her. But if he had … what would, what should he have done? He had to save one and she did not begrudge Beatrix that. She honoured Hal for placing his sister first. But why had he not turned back for her? Perhaps he had seen Bellew and had known that Bellew would finish off the job. But why hadn’t he come back to see if Bellew had been successful? Perhaps he just knew that Bellew couldn’t be anything else …!
Mrs. Benallen insisted on the sal volatile and later a light dinner. Kate had taken off her riding clothes and was sitting comfortably in an old armchair in the corner of the vast kitchen. She wore a knitted jumper and skirt of Mrs. Benallen’s. Mrs. Benallen had been lavish with her use of safety pins in making the garments fit.
‘I didn’t know I was so big …’ she said.
‘You’re not. You’d look wretched any thinner,’ Kate said. ‘At my age one has to stay gaunt … that’s the fashionable figure.’
‘You’re not gaunt, my dear. You’re lovely. Really lovely.’ She looked at Kate and sighed. ‘I wish you were my girl. Or Rick’s girl … or something. Even the cook. Just so I’d have something as young and fresh around me all day.’
‘You’re too kind. And very flattering.’
‘Blow flattering. It’s the truth. Why do you suppose Rick brought you home? He knew I liked you.’
‘He’s like a big brother.’
Mrs. Benallen snorted.
‘That’s just the trouble.’
She finished the job with the safety pins and looked Kate over critically.
‘Wrapped round you like an Egyptian mummy. Oh well, go and sit in that chair, my dear. You’ll have a rest and nobody will see how ill-fitting those clothes are.’
Kate sat in the chair meaning to get up presently and offer to help in getting the meal. She watched Mrs. Benallen moving between the kitchen and the living-room. She went on thinking about Hal.
‘Why hasn’t Hal come for me?’ she asked.
Mrs. Benallen paused and looked at the girl. Behind her blue eyes Kate was a little miserable.
‘Listen, my dear. You stop worrying about Hal. He knows you’re all right. If you weren’t he’d have heard from the men. As it was they knew Rick and Bellew were up on the gully end with you. They’ve told him.’
‘But why …?’
‘Tha
t’s Hal. He leaves undone those little acts that would bring pleasure to people. If you stay in Blackwood long enough you’ll get used to it. Everyone else is used to it. No one minds … no one holds it against him … It’s just Hal.’
‘But …?’
‘But you’re engaged to him? And that’s different? I wish you weren’t engaged to him. And nobody’s different with Hal.’
She took a handful of knives and forks into the living-room. Kate could hear her putting them round the table. Presently she came back.
‘We’d better ring up Appleton and tell them where I am,’ said Kate.
‘Not on your life,’ said Mrs. Benallen cheerfully. ‘They can wonder where you are …’
Rick came along the back veranda and into the kitchen. He was rubbing his wet hair with a towel. The thing Kate had noticed about him most was that he wore ordinary shoes. Beautiful soft leather shoes.
‘You don’t sound right, Rick,’ she said.
‘The boots? Noisy devils they are. But golly, a man couldn’t live in the forest country without them.’
‘Do you think we ought to ring up Appleton?’
He grinned.
‘You heard what Mother said. She’s the boss. Besides, they might come for you in the big car. You don’t want to go home, do you, Kate?’
‘I’d like to stay here …’ she said a little shyly. ‘Just for a little while.’
‘Tell you what … You stay till they ring up or send for you?’
‘All right.’
‘Make up the spare bed, Mother. Kate’s here for good.’
Kate pretended to laugh. Behind her eyes there were tears. Rick was suddenly sorry.
‘We have a rough kind of humour in Blackwood, Kate. But listen, mate …’
He pulled up a kitchen chair and sat in front of her. He stopped mopping his hair to look at her firmly.
‘We aren’t much better than the Westons ourselves … are we? You and I? This afternoon we sneaked back here instead of riding through to Appleton. Am I right?’
Kate had to smile.
‘You certainly are right, Rick.’
‘I certainly am.’
The Westons didn’t ring up and Kate ceased to care when dinner was over and she and Mrs. Benallen and Rick played three-handed rummy.
