Lily's Leap

by Téa Cooper

  “Lily, we have to do this now. The longer we leave it the faster the river will run even if the rain stops. The runoff from the surrounding hills will keep the water rising for days.”

  She gazed up at the steep sandstone cliffs further upstream and let out a huge sigh as she grudgingly accepted he was right.

  The raging torrent in front of them churned with mud and half submerged debris swept down from the valley. A random branch sped down river and she flinched as she imagined it spearing her body, or Nero’s.

  “This is how it works–Will, you and Bonnie go first, Lily and I will follow with Jem. The horses will swim across with no problem. Lily, you hold fast to Nero’s tail.” He picked up one of the long sticks they had collected and she took it. “Keep the stick in your left hand, if you find your horse drifting away from the rest of us, whack the water beside Nero’s head and he will veer away from it.” He put a cold dripping wet arm around her shoulder; his reassuring hug doing nothing to calm her churning stomach and her chattering teeth.

  Lily saw Will pulling Bonnie close obviously offering the same advice Tom had given and she managed to garner a little comfort from the fact it was something they had obviously done before. Nevertheless, she’d swap this for a ride down any hill, any day, no matter how steep. Her body quaked at the prospect of the icy water. It was a test she knew she’d fail–she hated water. She had never been a strong swimmer, and she prayed she would be able to keep her head above water and go with the current. She watched, horrified, as Will kissed Bonnie long and hard. She moved closer to Tom seeking what little reassurance she could.

  He answered her unasked question. “The horses won’t have enough strength to pull two of us, Lily. You have to do this on your own.”

  The first horses waded down the steep bank. Jem was quickly swallowed by the rushing water. Will and Bonnie followed. Her breath stuttered to a halt as she saw Bonnie go under and she waited wringing her hands until Bonnie surfaced. Her gasp caused Tom to turn and smile tightly at her. She gave up trying to control her shaking.

  “Our turn now, Lily. Be brave.”

  Her breath snatched when the sudden chill of the river gushed over her despite the fact she was already soaking wet. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the water rose over her head and she sank into the murky depths. Remembering Bonnie she clung onto Nero’s tail like a lifeline, her body tossed by the current until she surfaced like a cork in midstream. She sucked in a lungful of damp air. The river swirled and twisted around her, threatening to suck her under again. Above the rushing torrent of the water she heard Tom, and the rest of the horses hit the river with a splash. She didn’t dare turn around. Her hand ached as she clung desperately to Nero’s tail and she concentrated only on keeping her head above water and her mouth tightly shut.

  Droplets of icy, murky water clung to her eyelashes and she would have given anything to wipe them away. With one hand gripping Nero’s tail and the other holding the long stick above the water there was nothing more she could do. The muscles in her arm bunched and screamed in agony as she strove to keep the stick above the water. Ahead she glimpsed Bonnie and Will reaching the steep edge of the opposite riverbank.

  “Lily. Lily!”

  She forced her head around and glanced over her right shoulder. Tom’s panicked voice broke through the noise of the rushing water and with her vision partly obscured through the icy haze she saw him rush past her, the lead rope floating uselessly on the surface of the water. With her safety line broken, she and Nero were caught in the fast moving current and they had drifted away from the others. She wrapped her hand around Nero’s tail until she could feel her nails against the palm of her hand, her wrist ached and cramped from the effort.

  “Tom.” Her plaintive cry washed away down river. The surge of panic followed as she accepted her fate. It was pointless. She was on her own. There was nothing he or anyone else could do. Using her last ounce of strength she raised the stick above her head and brought it down with a resounding crash on the water. As Tom had predicted, Nero shied away from the unexpected splash and turned toward the bank. Still caught mid-stream, she grappled with the realization she was being washed further downstream. She thrashed at the water again groaning aloud as the stick hit a passing log and floated away uselessly, tossed in the bubbling current.

  “Lil-eee”.

  Through the haze of water she watched Tom run down the bank to keep up with her. The raucous sound of his whistle broke through her fading consciousness and Nero’s ears twitched and he responded, his flanks heaving and his legs thrashing as he strained against the current. Her head snapped back and she closed her eyes against the burst of pain and darkness descended.

  ****

  “Oh my God, what have I done?” Tom fought against Jem’s strong arms as he dragged him from the water’s edge. He pushed Jem aside furiously and scrambled to his feet slipping and slithering down the bank to Will. The water swirled around Will’s thighs and he had the lead rope on Nero guiding him up the bank. Every ounce of air sucked out of Tom’s body as Lily’s lifeless form bumped onto the muddy bank. Her wet hair clung to her face like waterweed and mud and debris coated her in a gelatinous gray skin.

  He shook Jem’s sympathetic hand away and staggered toward Will who cradled her body like a rag doll. Fumbling with her icy cold hands still clinging to Nero’s tail, he carefully unpeeled her blue fingers and her arm fell limply to her side.

  Her face was as white as a shroud and the blue of her lips stood out in stark relief against the pallor. Will gently carried her up the sandy bank and laid her on the sodden grass. With infinite care, and overwhelming dread Tom rested the back of his hand against the cold, pale skin of her throat.

  “Lily. Lily. Come on please, my darling, wake up.” He looked at Will, his stomach twisting and cramping as the slight shake of Will’s head confirmed his worst suspicions. He ran his fingers across her icy cold blue cheek and returned his shaking hand to her neck. An almost imperceptible pulse fluttered beneath his fingers. He pressed harder and his ragged breath caught in his throat and he welcomed the surge of relief that coursed through his body.

  ****

  Lily flinched and blinked her gritty eyes trying to focus. Every bone in her body ached and seemed unnaturally heavy as she tried to move on the hard ground. Flames from the flickering fire illuminated the blurred darkness. Her arms throbbed and she doubted she would ever be able lift her legs again. She let her eyelids fall again but the horror of the murky water swirled in her befuddled mind and she snapped them open.

  “You’re awake. Thank God.” Tom hunkered down besides her his weight resting on his heels. “How do you feel?” She studied him through the clearing haze. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned. Tiny lines etched the skin around his eyes; his disheveled hair and dark stubble made him look tired and older. His sigh reached her from a great distance and she coughed, the dryness of her throat made speech almost impossible.

  “Thirsty,” she croaked, “but I’m alright, just sore,” It was a blatant, outright lie. She was shocked and battered and bruised, however, she wouldn’t admit it to him for all the tea in China. He offered a tin mug. She nodded slowly and he lifted it to her mouth.

  “Take it easy, not too fast.”

  She gulped the clean water washing away the taste of filthy river water until finally her thirst dissipated and she pushed the mug away. “I don’t care what happens to me, I just want to get the horses to Sydney. Are they alright?” He had to know it was the most important thing in the world to her.

  A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “You weren’t in such a hurry to get to Sydney this morning.”

  Memories of the warm bed and sleeping in his comforting embrace at The Settler’s Arms raced through her and heat rose to her cheeks. “I just want it over.” She turned away from him and pulled the blanket closer, curling up into a tight ball on the hard ground as close to the fire as she dared.

  Sometime durin
g the night she woke and shifted to ease her cramped muscles. Her eyelids flew open in the darkness. The warmth behind her smelled of damp and sweat and leather and horses. Tom’s arm was thrown casually over her hips, his chest pressed against her back and his legs curving beneath her buttocks. Now she understood why she was so warm.

  Lying very still, she listened to his even breathing. Her hair moved ever so slightly as he exhaled. His body fitted so comfortably against hers. She relaxed, sighed softly and snuggled closer against him as sleep claimed her again.

  ****

  Lily’s silence was beginning to irritate Tom. The events of yesterday had shaken them all but they’d succeeded. The river had been crossed, they were on the way to Sydney and Lily, though bruised, had survived the ordeal. After a decent night’s sleep, Jem’s kangaroo stew for breakfast and today’s clearer skies, things ought to be looking up. The horses hadn’t come to any harm except perhaps Nero whose mood apparently matched that of his mistress.

  “We’ll be in Windsor tonight,” he said trying to break through the shroud of misery clinging to her.

  Lily stared vacantly ahead and her exhaustion was palpable. The blue shadows around her beautiful eyes made them appear even larger in her pale face. She looked hollowed out and undoubtedly felt as sore as all hell.

  “Hmm.”

  He smiled and leaned toward her. At least he had finally received a response, albeit a fairly noncommittal one. He searched his mind trying to come up with something closer to her heart, something to elicit a viable response. He felt inept, inadequate and had no idea what to do. The responsibility weighed more heavily on him with every passing moment. He suddenly wished he’d told George to go to hell, handed Lily and the horses over and shot through. “Are you still going to enter Nero in the race?”

  “Of course I am.”

  He raised an eyebrow at the sudden spark of determination in her voice.

  “You realize he hasn’t got much of a chance of winning after what he has been through.”

  Her head almost snapped off her shoulders as she swung around to face him, her eyes blazing. At least he had woken her.

  “I am entering him and he will win.”

  “He’s exhausted. Like you. Not a good idea.” Dialogue and plans were good. Anything to bring the life back to his beautiful treasure.

  “He’ll be fine.” Her clipped tone caused a jolt of surprise as he dragged his mind back to the conversation. “Thomas Haydon used to ride Young Dover nearly a hundred miles to Maitland to compete in all three two-mile races, and win. If he can do it, so can Nero.”

  “Yes but he didn’t do it after swimming the Hawkesbury in flood.”

  “That was yesterday. Nero will be fine to race tomorrow.”

  “What if I say no?” His hand came up to cover his mouth. It was too late. The words were spoken. Her eyes widened until he could see the entire purple globe of her iris, a sort of water lily purple today.

  “What if I don’t ask you?” No honeyed tones today, just icy cold like the Hawkesbury in flood.

  “Well, how are you going to enter him in the race? Who is…” His words died away and he knew if he lived to be a hundred the load of his idiocy would never weigh so heavily on him again. He was a fool, an unseeing, total fool. “You’re going to ride him yourself,” he said. His flat statement of fact hung in the air. “You never intended anyone else should ride him. You only agreed so your father would allow you to come.”

  Her shiny curls were loose and tousled around her face. They bounced as she shook her head slowly as if gently reprimanding a young child, and then she smiled and the sun came out.

  “Of course I am going to ride Nero.” Her hand caressed the black velvet neck. “And we are going to win. Aren’t we, boy?”

  Chapter 7

  The buzz of activity hit Tom the moment they entered the town, lifting his spirits and re-enforcing the knowledge it had been a long time since he had brushed shoulders with his fellow man. The colony was on the up and up and there was a spirit of anticipation and promise in the air.

  The Windsor meet was one of the biggest events on the Hawkesbury social calendar, not only a series of horse races but also a well-attended country fair. Musicians and dancers, visitors from Sydney and all over the colony descended on the town. Dedicated horse lovers, breeders, gamblers and farmers relished the opportunity to attend the fair. It was a chance to meet with others, swap stories and experiences and line the pockets of the publicans. Even the poorest of the ticket-of-leave families knew if they could get their hands on a horse it could secure their future. And who in the colony didn’t live in hope, a flutter on the races might make the difference to their world? He might even lay a bet or two. Certainly one on Nero. The stallion was a legend. He owed the horse of huge debt of gratitude. The way he had responded to his whistle and ploughed through the surging current bringing Lily back to him would stay in his mind for a long time

  Many of the women were dressed in colorful gowns, some of the men in formal attire and others in working clothes. Luckily the variety allowed them and the mob of horses to blend into the mismatched crowd. Social divisions were forgotten as everyone concentrated on the Sport of Kings, the growing passion of the colony.

  The men with horses to sell were undoubtedly professional breeders and Tom’s senses prickled, aware of the eyes following Lily and Nero. He squinted at them hoping their eyes followed the horseflesh. They’d better be. They could keep their eyes off the woman who rode beside him.

  The expression on Lily’s face assured him her tiredness had been replaced by a patent excitement as obvious as the broad smile on her face. She’d told him she had never been to the Windsor races before and he had no reason to disbelieve her, but she was certainly in her element. She must have attended many such days in the Hunter. He felt a stab of pride as he watched her move through the crowds with assurance and confidence. Not in the least intimidated among the horse breeders, nodding and acknowledging the various men who seemed to know her, Nero following her loyally.

  She stopped to look at a black mare, its coat as smooth and glossy as a cockatoo’s wing. She ran an expert hand down the fetlock and picked up the hoof to inspect it. Everything in her poise screamed expertise. Her casual confidence. Daughter of the Dungarven Stud. Where had she learned it? Not from her father. Her every movement shouted her lineage. She moved on toward the racetrack and Tom followed, seeing Lily as the central character on a stage and he watched her every move.

  The fact she had been educated with that husband of hers accounted for her riding skill, chess-playing acumen and obvious logic and business sense. They were all attributes expected to be found in a son not a daughter. So, had Dungarven lavished an education on Lily because his wife hadn’t produced a son? If so, why hadn’t he come rushing to her defense? Tom gave up trying to make sense of it all, doubting he would ever fully understand the complicated background of this amazing woman.

  A buckskin stallion stood out from the rest of the horses, his mane braided tightly, accentuating his proud, arched neck. Even at a distance the quality of breeding was obvious.

  “A Hunter animal,” Lily murmured. “We’re the only area producing those colors. He’s Nero’s opposition.” A small group of punters vied with Lily to examine the horse, discussing the odds and asking questions.

  He scanned the group, his gaze coming to rest on a battered cabbage tree hat lurking on the outskirts of a group. George! Now what was he doing here? He was supposed to be back at Wordsworth relaying his messages. If he was here it meant…Tom pushed his hat back, frowning and using the advantage of being mounted to gaze over the assembled crowd. He felt rather than saw Lily stiffen beside him and he looked down at her. Her skin seemed even paler than it had when he had dragged her from the water.

  “Father.” The stuttered word escaped her lips like a curse and curled up toward his ear. He followed her gaze, certain Dungarven would spot them in an instant. Stallions of Nero’s caliber were hardly an
everyday occurrence and already he could sense people’s eyes drifting from the buckskin to his polar opposite–Nero.

  “I don’t want to see him until the race is over. What’s he doing here?” Her earlier confidence slipped and his skin prickled with the desire to leap to her defense.

  Tom slipped from his horse intent on putting himself between Lily and any danger.

  “Follow me. Come on. We will go and get you registered for the race and then wait over by the trees and appear just as Nero’s race is called.”

  ****

  Many of the horses lined up to race looked like stockmen’s mounts, a smattering of thoroughbreds and a few could have been descendants of Jack Brumby’s herd, however, none had the elegance of Nero’s Arabian heritage, despite their powerful frames. His race was the culmination of the day, the betting high and the prize money higher. The purses for most of the other races were relatively small and they watched race after race where men hunched over their horses and thundered down the track chasing the prize purses.

  Lily breathed a sigh of relief thankful the worst of the heat of the day had passed. She and Tom walked Nero and the gray over to the mounting yard. His race, as the main event, was scheduled to start at four. Nero had started to become skittish, all the noise and excitement around him making him toss his head and stamp and snort restlessly. Lily patted his glistening neck trying to calm him and mounted.

  “Let me tighten your stirrups. You need them short.”

  She took the gray’s reins from Tom, her mouth was dry and waves of nausea churned through her. For a fleeting moment she wondered if she should pull out. She clenched her teeth and bunched her fists tightly around the reins, willing her hands to stop shaking and her stomach to settle. All her hopes and aspirations hung on this race. If Nero won, Wordsworth would once again be on the map, she could stand him at stud and people would flock to bring their mares for service.

  “You’re nervous.” Tom’s bland statement of the obvious firmed her resolve and all thoughts of pulling out disappeared.