by Di Morrissey
SODDEN DAYS PASSED SLOWLY. John Monroe worked in the machinery shed, and while he seemed a bit quieter than usual it was probably because he was feeling contrite over his binge in Karumba. Rob was breaking in horses, slowly and thoroughly, trying to work in between downpours. Sally was bored. Whenever there was a break in the rain she took the boys out for a ride and occasionally Rob would bring Jasper along to get him used to being around other horses. Ian still longed to ride the big stallion.
Mail was sporadic during the Wet. When Donny couldn’t land he dropped the mail bag into the home paddock close to the house. Sally’s mother and sister wrote to her about Yvonne’s wedding preparations, which seemed to Sally to be getting out of hand. Her parents had taken over and were arranging everything and Yvonne and Lachlan had little say in it. Sally knew that’s how it was in her parents’ circle – weddings gave the families the opportunity to show off and no expense was spared. That was if the marriage was with an ‘approved’ groom or bride. Otherwise the wedding was played down, which Sally thought would be the case if she and Rob were to get married. Of course, if Rob suddenly came into some money and settled down on the family property, he’d be embraced by the Mitchell clan. She’d never thought about marriage before but now she could see herself sharing her life with Rob.
Each evening before dinner, John Monroe would raise his glass in a toast to his wife. ‘Here’s to the old girl.’
Lorna called in daily on the wireless and the boys were always eager to talk to her, their first question was inevitably, ‘Has the baby come yet?’ Then Sally would speak briefly, reassuring her all was well. Knowing the other stations were listening in, personal detail or emotion was kept to a minimum.
John always ended the conversation with ‘Take care of yourself, lass.’
Eventually the torrential downpours started again. Monroe came in before dark, hanging his dripping coat, boots and hat outside the kitchen.
‘The river is coming up, might run a banker. Seems something has given way upstream. The spit that divided one of the creeks from the main flow has caved in.’
Rob followed him inside, shrugging off his wet-weather gear. ‘Isn’t Snowy still out?’
‘Yeah. He should’ve taken someone with him.’
‘I offered,’ said Rob.
‘There’s no one else here he could have taken?’ asked Sally.
‘Couple of lazy old blackfellas down in the camp who didn’t go walkabout,’ said Monroe. ‘Isn’t that right, Lizzie?’
Lizzie banged a pot on the stove. ‘Dem lazy buggas. Reckon dem medicine men. Clever big pella. No need for ’em go walkabout.’
‘They’re too old to be much help if he finds bogged cattle or horses,’ said Rob.
‘We might have to launch the boat into the paddocks,’ John said with a grin at Sally. ‘We’ve done that before.’
The next day, as the weather cleared, they went about their work and from the schoolhouse Sally heard John Monroe drive off towards the home paddock. The kids from the camp were disruptive, talking and running around the room.
‘Settle down, Frankie. Come on, finish your work.’
‘Old men comin’ back,’ he said. ‘All dem walkabout mob, come back.’
‘How do you know that?’
Tommy laughed. ‘Don’t ask him. They always just say they know.’
‘And they do,’ said Ian. ‘Betcha in a couple of hours they’ll all come back in.’
At lunchtime they all sat at the big table, as had become their custom with Lorna away, when Lizzie walked in with their meals and announced, ‘Dem walkabout pellas in de camp now.’
Tommy looked at Sally. ‘See, told you so.’
‘Now they’ll all sit down and do nothing for weeks, unless the rain eases off for a bit. It’s the world’s longest card game,’ said John Monroe.
They ate in silence and Rob was wondering how he could raise the subject of Jasper. He’d asked Monroe about buying him, riding him while he was working at Barra Creek, but taking the horse with him when he left. Monroe had told Rob he’d think about it.
‘He has all it takes for the hard slog mustering,’ said Rob eventually.
‘Mmm.’ John kept eating, then asked, ‘How many more horses you got to break?’
‘Half a dozen or so. Keep me busy for a bit.’
‘Can we go riding this arvo, please?’ Ian said to Sally. ‘We’re sick of being cooped up.’
Sally felt the same. ‘Let’s finish our school work first.’ But she gave the boys a wink.
Rob was repairing a saddle a few hours after lunch when he heard the rifle shots. He ran outside and, realising they were coming from the yards near the home paddock, he ran to his ute and took off as fast as he could. The only person with a rifle was Monroe and the shots were a sure sign he was in trouble. Rob doubted he’d be shooting wildlife at this hour of the day. His heart started pounding when he saw the Land Rover near the yard where Jasper was spelled during the day. As he got closer he saw John Monroe sitting slumped beside the truck’s door, the rifle beside him.
The yard was empty, the gate open.
‘What’s up?’
‘Done my back, might’ve broken my leg. Bastard of a horse.’
Rob looked around, a knot tightening in the pit of his stomach. ‘Where’s Jasper? What the hell happened?’
‘I was looking him over, thought I’d check him out. See if he’s as good as you reckon.’ Monroe stopped, drawing a painful breath. ‘Bastard kicked me, and shot through the gate and took off. I managed to drag myself here and get the rifle.’
Rob was staring at the gate. ‘It wasn’t shut?’ The stupid man, he should know better than to get into the yard with an unfamiliar horse and leave the bloody gate open, Rob thought furiously.
‘Christ man, help me will you?’ snapped Monroe, holding out his arm.
Rob helped him up and he hobbled around the vehicle to the passenger side. ‘Doesn’t look like your leg is broken, bad sprain I’d say.’
‘My back and hip are killing me. Maybe I shouldn’t be moved.’ Monroe winced.
‘Too late. I think you’ll need a hot bath and a long rest. I’ll take you back and get Sally and the boys to look for Jasper.’
They’d just set off when Sally and the boys rode up.
‘We heard shots, what’s happening?’
‘Bit of an accident. Jasper kicked your dad and took off,’ Rob said, looking at Ian.
‘Where’s Jasper?’ Ian’s face was white.
‘Charging across the home paddock somewhere. He’s a mean bastard,’ snapped John Monroe.
‘He’s not! You are!’ shouted Ian. He wheeled his horse and broke into a gallop, heading into the home paddock.
‘You watch your mouth,’ screamed John Monroe in pain, anger and some embarrassment.
Sally and Tommy took off after Ian. Sally hoped Rob could deal with John Monroe; judging by his temper he wasn’t seriously hurt and her nursing skills were non existent.
‘Let’s split up. We’ll meet at the gate at the western boundary fence.’
They rode off and she soon lost sight of the boys amidst the ant hills and scrubby terrain. What a fool John Monroe was to try to ride a stallion who’d only ever been ridden by the gentle horse breaker. Sally had seen Monroe around horses a few times and he was a rough handler, determined to show he was the big boss. Or bully, she thought.
She was cantering, trusting the sure feet of Dancer as she gazed around hoping to see Jasper grazing quietly and not streaking for the hills. Hearing her name she turned and saw Tommy galloping recklessly after her. She reined in.
‘You found him?’
‘Ian has. Oh Sally, it’s terrible . . .’ Tommy was crying and Sally turned Dancer close to his horse and reached out to him.
‘What’s happened? Where’s Ian?’
‘With him. Oh poor Jasper,’ blubbered Tommy. ‘Ian’s going to kill Dad . . .’
‘Where are they? Quick.’ Sally was firm. ‘Keep you
r head, Tommy. Just tell me where they are and then go and get Rob.’
‘The start of the western fence, near the gates.’
Sally kicked Dancer before he could say any more. Her heart was in her mouth as she raced to the boundary fence. Against the horizon was etched the proud head and solid outline of Jasper. Ian was crouched a short distance away, holding the reins of his horse who stood motionless behind him. Sally slowed, not wanting to frighten Jasper, and dismounted, and leading Dancer walked towards them. Ian held up his hand, indicating she should stay back. Then she saw why and gasped.
Jasper was against the boundary fence; he’d rushed it hoping to gain freedom and return to the hills, or perhaps to escape the bullying of John Monroe. In his panic he had hit the fence, which, in the soft wet ground, had given way. He must have fallen then regained his feet but in the process strands of barbed wire that were stretched along the lower section of the fence had caught him and were wound around his legs, shredding the flesh to the bone. The more he’d tried to free himself the more entangled he became.
‘Oh my God.’ Sally let Dancer stand as she walked slowly towards the wounded stallion.
Tears were streaming down Ian’s face. ‘What’ll we do?’
‘It looks bad. Rob is coming, he’ll know. Just don’t frighten him, come away.’
Sally’s heart was pounding. The stallion turned towards her, fear and anger showing in his eyes, the tilt of his head, the quivering of his body, the levelled ears.
She spoke softly, whispering and consoling. ‘Jas . . . it’s all right, I know it hurts, boy. Don’t move, you’ll make it worse. We’re going to get you out, Jasper, don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.’ She repeated the soothing words over and over.
‘I wish I could kill my father for this,’ Ian hissed in a low voice.
‘Don’t say that. It was an accident, he’d never hurt the horse,’ mumbled Sally.
‘He doesn’t care. Dad’ll be mad ’cause he hurt himself. Sally, please don’t let him do anything to Jasper.’
‘Don’t worry, Ian. Your dad will be more worried about his own injuries. We’ll have to get the vet, see what he says.’
Ian swung his attention from the stallion for the first time and stared at Sally in shock. ‘Vet! They won’t get a vet.’
‘Of course they will, a vet will know what to do.’
Ian stood up. ‘Listen, we don’t get vets out here. Animals live or die.’
This was incomprehensible to Sally; her father was always calling the vet out to treat his animals. But of course the distance of Barra Creek would make it impossible. Her heart sank. She was saved from arguing as the Land Rover raced towards them. Rob jumped out and walked slowly forward, studying the stallion.
‘Ian, move back, take the other horses away,’ he said quietly.
Ian took Dancer and his own horse and led them away. Sally squatted on her haunches, trying to make herself small, unobtrusive and non threatening.
‘Oh Jesus, oh hell . . .’ muttered Rob under his breath. ‘Hey, boy, you got yourself in a little trouble here. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out and you’ll be just fine.’
Recognising Rob, Jasper shook his head and whinnied.
‘How are we going to get him out of that mess? There’s wire embedded in his skin, look at his chest. And the bleeding, you can see the bone in his legs,’ said Sally, choking up.
‘Wire cutters to start with.’ He pulled out a pair from the toolbox in the Land Rover, then crouched by Jasper’s fetlocks and quietly began snipping through the tangle of barbed wire.
‘Okay, Sally, come and hold him while I unsaddle him and see if I can free his back legs. At least he’ll be able to walk then, and we have to keep him on his legs.’
‘I hope it’s not all the wire holding him up. God, Rob, is he going to make it?’ she glanced back at Ian who was watching as he held the horses.
Stiffly and painfully John Monroe got out of the Land Rover, carrying his rifle.
‘What’re you doing, Dad? No! No!’ Ian screamed.
Monroe was slamming bullets into the breech. ‘Best thing for it, son. Can’t see an animal suffer.’ He cocked the rifle.
‘No. Don’t!’ Ian dropped the reins he was holding, rushed forward and flung himself at his father, knocking him off balance. John Monroe fell and the rifle went off, a bullet ricocheting into the Land Rover.
‘Shit!’
Jasper jerked, trying to rear, the wire dragging deeper into his skin.
‘What the hell?’ Rob strode over to Monroe. He grabbed the rifle and expelled the other bullet.
‘You little bastard. You nearly killed me.’ John Monroe shook his fist at Ian.
Ian’s face was white but his eyes burned. In a firm, defiant voice he said, ‘You hurt Jasper and I will kill you.’
Rob took control and led Monroe back to the vehicle.
‘Put that bloody horse down,’ yelled John Monroe.
Rob said quietly, ‘I made you an offer for the horse, John. It still stands. I’ll buy him off you now, yes or no?’
‘What for? Bloody horsemeat?’ Monroe turned and got into the driver’s seat.
‘Jasper is my horse, Rob,’ cried Ian, suddenly starting to sob.
Monroe slammed the door. ‘Do what you bloody want. You’re all mad.’
As he drove away, Rob went to Ian and held him. ‘Mate, I’m going to look after him. Make him strong again. And then he’ll be your horse, for sure.’
He glanced back at the bleeding horse and wondered how the hell he was going to save him. Then, looking down at the boy clinging to him, he rubbed Ian’s head. ‘You help me, mate, and we’ll do our best. That’s all we can do. Then it’s up to Jasper.’
Fitzi finally arrived towing the old homemade horse float. Rob had freed Jasper, but strands of wire were still embedded in his legs and he’d lost a lot of blood. Fitzi drove Rob back to his ute then took the horse to the stables where he stood shakily, his head down, the fight gone out of him.
On Rob’s request, Sally raced into the house, pulled old clean sheets out of the cupboard and ripped them into bandages.
Rob bathed Jasper’s legs in warm salty water and gently cut and picked the last of the wire from the trembling horse. Then he bandaged the animal’s legs. Ian and Tommy hung around as he led Jasper into a stall.
‘Let’s leave him. He needs to be quiet. Let him think about what’s happened and decide if he’s going to get better or not.’
Keeping the boys away from the stables was hard, but Rob was insistent. John Monroe spent the rest of the day in bed, sipping rum and sleeping.
That evening when Lorna came through on the wireless, Sally gave her a brief rundown of events.
‘That horse is jinxed. It’s only brought bad luck,’ said Lorna. ‘If it lives, Rob should sell it.’
Rob, Sally, Ian and Tommy ate dinner in miserable silence. The boys went to get ready for bed and John Monroe, looking pale, wandered into the lounge room where Sally was sitting on her own.
‘There’s some dinner left for you, John. Would you like me to get it?’
‘Don’t feel like eating. I still feel crook. Might have a hot bath.’ He poured himself another rum.
‘Sounds like a good idea. Lorna rang, no news.’
He eased himself into a chair. ‘I’m too old for another kid. So’s she. Hell, why does Ian have it in for me so much?’
‘He loves that horse.’
‘He’s had it in for me before that.’
‘The oldest-son syndrome, I suppose. Maybe you should listen to him a bit more, instead of always telling him you’re right and he’s wrong.’
‘He’s just a kid.’
‘Did you argue with your father?’
He was silent and sipped his drink. ‘He died when I was young. Do you agree with your parents all the time?’ he countered.
Sally didn’t answer for a moment. ‘No. But as my father might say, t’was ever thus. He didn’t agree with
his parents either.’
‘Ah, hell. I’m going to throw my bones in the bath. Bloody lucky that flaming horse didn’t break anything.’
As he put his glass on the sideboard, Rob came into the room, pulled a wad of notes from his pocket and slapped them on the table.
‘Two hundred quid. As we agreed.’
‘I don’t want your money.’
‘I want you to take it. I’ll take responsibility for Jasper. Whatever happens now, it’s my horse.’
‘Don’t waste your money. Forget it.’
‘I insist. Don’t go back on your word.’
‘I never break my word. It’s on your head then. When that horse dies, you tell my son. You’ve given him false hope.’
‘I’ll take that chance.’ Rob glanced at Sally and left the room.
They left Jasper alone for a week. Rob hand fed him occasionally, moving quietly, checking the horse stayed on his feet.
After breakfast one morning Rob took Ian aside. ‘I’ll need your help today.’
They led Jasper out of the stall. Rob unwound the bandages, which were caked with dried blood and rotting flesh, and had Ian run the hose down the animal’s legs. Then they washed them with water and salt.
‘We’ve got to watch that proud flesh doesn’t build up, I want to keep the straight line of his leg, make sure it heals from beneath. Pass me that tin.’
‘What’s in it? Smells like . . . brake oil.’
‘It is. Whack it on and throw some sulphur on top. We’re going to do this every day for a week. Then it’s up to Jasper to heal himself.’
Ian looked at the horse, who seemed more dejected day by day. The lustre was gone from his coat, and he hung his head, taking no interest in what was going on around, or happening to, him.
‘I don’t think he cares, Rob. He’s not going to fight,’ said Ian.
That night sitting on his bed, Ian told Sally he thought Jasper was going to die.
‘But he’s doing okay, Rob said,’ cried Tommy.
‘His legs are healing but his head and heart aren’t good,’ said Ian simply. He rolled on his side, turning his back on them.
Some time later Sally stirred from a restless sleep and sat up. Both boys were asleep. Throwing a jacket over her nightie, she pulled on her boots, picked up a torch and walked through the cool damp night to the stables. Clouds covered the moon, rain threatened.
