Brumbies in the Snow

by Paula Boer

  Ben had hooked the mittens onto the ends of the sticks by the time Louise returned and had pressed small stones in a line down the snowman’s middle for buttons. He had wrapped a piece of ribbon bark around the neck as a scarf.

  Louise collected a handful of rose hips from the leafless shrubs along the garden fence and pushed them into the head in the shape of a large smile. The finished snowman stood as tall as Louise. She looked proudly at their creation. “All this work has made me hungry. Do you think it’s time for lunch?”

  Mrs Naylor ladled out steaming bowls of thick beef casserole to Ben and Louise. “You need something to keep you warm. Eat up, there’s sticky date pudding too.”

  Louise buttered a slab of homemade bread, still warm from the oven. Dipping it into the gravy, she lowered her head towards the table so as not to drip food down her front. “This is delicious. Thanks, Mrs Naylor. I’d better not eat too much or else I won’t be able to eat Mum’s dinner tonight.”

  Despite what she said, Louise tucked in to a large helping of dessert. As she helped clear away the dishes, she heard a loud banging at the front door.

  “Who can that be? We never use the front door.” Ben slid the dirty plates onto the drainer next to the sink and hurried down the hallway.

  Louise could hear the surprise in Ben’s voice as he let in the unexpected guests. The couple padded into the kitchen in their socks, still wearing thick fleece jackets.

  “Mum, this is James and Francesca, the people who were trapped in the mine.” Ben followed them into the room, looking at a loss as to what to say or do.

  Mrs Naylor wiped her hands on her apron and greeted the visitors. “Please, take your coats off. Sit down, there’s cake on the table. Ben, grab a couple of clean plates.”

  Louise finished clearing the dirty dishes away as James and Francesca removed their hats and coats.

  Ben hung the visitors’ wet clothes over the back of the tattered armchair next to the wood stove. Sneak, the Naylor’s fat tabby cat, gave him a disdainful look from the cushion before curling up again with his paws tucked under his body.

  James accepted a mug of tea and sat at the kitchen table. He cleared his throat. “We wanted to come and say thank you again to Ben and Louise. As you can see, Francesca is still hobbling a bit, but the doctor says nothing is broken. It was a stroke of genius making a tow to go behind the horse.”

  Louise joined the others at the table. “That was Harry’s idea. He’s amazing. Whenever we need help, he seems to turn up. I can’t believe he lives in the park all year round, especially in a bad winter like this.”

  “What? That old man?”

  Louise wasn’t sure whether Francesca was surprised at Harry being so clever or living rough. “He helped us in the summer to catch our brumbies. That was one I was leading when we found you. Ben has a stallion.”

  Realising that Ben probably didn’t want to be reminded of his morning’s accident on Brandy, Louise shut up.

  “Ah, well, that’s all very good.” James sipped at his tea and placed the mug back on the table. “I think it was your mare that carried our packs, wasn’t it? I guess we should take them off your hands.”

  Louise didn’t need reminding about the packs that had rubbed a sore under Honey’s elbow. “Yes, she did really well to carry them. She’s only young and hasn’t been used to a saddle for long.”

  Ben stood and looked at his mother. “Where did they go, Mum? I’ll fetch them.”

  Mrs Naylor waved at her son to sit back down. “I thought there’d be dirty food containers inside. I didn’t want them to go mouldy, so I brought them in to wash them. You can imagine I was rather surprised at what I found.”

  Ben and Louise both gave her puzzled looks.

  James and Francesca squirmed on their seats. The man was the first to speak. “I can explain. Robert had told us about the old mines, so we thought we’d have a look to see if we could find any nuggets. You know, a little souvenir of our trip.”

  An unexpected tear rolled down Mrs Naylor’s cheek. “Nuggets! Well, for a start, there aren’t likely to be any of those left lying around. Besides, the mines are dangerous. My brother was killed working there, and it’s been locked ever since.”

  Louise felt totally confused and shocked. “I thought you got lost going to Mt. Evans. Do you mean you meant to go to the mines all along? That’s really dangerous to go somewhere other than where you’ve told people you’re going. It’s a miracle we found you. How did you cross the river? Not by the ford.”

  James finished his tea. “We scrambled across at the cascades. It was more dangerous than we thought. We couldn’t get back, so we kept following what we thought was a path.”

  Mrs Naylor shook her head. “Don’t try and tell me you ended up at the mines by accident. That’s professional equipment you had in your pack. Who takes a pick and drill to gather a keepsake? I’ve heard there are new methods of extracting metals from rocks that weren’t previously viable. Are you sure it was only a souvenir you wanted?”

  Louise worked out the implications. “So you caused the rock fall. And the rock fall caused the avalanche. I thought it was the other way around.” She thought back to the boom she had heard before Ned bolted, and all the falling snow. She realised that Honey had been packing rocks, not survival gear. If the packs hadn’t been so heavy they wouldn’t have rubbed.

  Her head spun with all the thoughts whizzing through her brain. “Did Mr Smythe-Waters put you up to this? He’s always trying to make money out of the park. He buys the mustered brumbies for dog meat, and wants to graze cattle on the land again. The poor brumbies are starving because he burnt all the grassland. He probably wants to open up the old mines.”

  Fuming, Louise stormed out of the house with Ben close behind. “Can you believe that? What idiots. Fancy thinking that they would find gold in that mine, and then getting stuck in there.”

  “It would’ve served them right if they’d died.” Ben stomped his feet and wrapped his arms around himself.

  Louise glanced across at the snowman they had made before lunch. “Oh no! Nibbles is eating the snowman’s nose.”

  Ben started to laugh. Louise caught the giggles and curled up too. Ben could barely speak as he rocked with mirth. “Trust that old goat to make us see the day a bit brighter. Come on, let’s go for a ride. My back’s feeling much better after a rest.”

  Before they had a chance to cross to the stables, the three adults walked outside. Francesca gave them a smile and a small wave.

  The woman’s casual attitude made Louise’s anger rise again. Despite her normally good manners, she couldn’t resist a last jibe. “You could tell that uncle of yours to put hay out for the brumbies. At least he could feed them as he destroyed the grass.”

  James walked across to her. “I’m sorry we’ve upset you. Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I was shocked at the condition of the wild horses we saw. We’ll ask him about it.”

  Francesca spoke to Mrs Naylor. “We had no idea how hard conditions could be in Australia. We didn’t mean any harm. And we’re sorry about your brother.”

  Mrs Naylor crossed her arms as she stopped at the gate. “You speak to Robert about feeding the brumbies. If we see hay out, maybe I won’t have to report your mining equipment to the ranger.”

  Chapter 12

  The following Saturday morning dawned grey and cold with a bitter wind blowing from the south. Ben struggled out of bed and donned his old work clothes of faded jeans and a thick woollen shirt. His father had given him a list of jobs as long as his arm to do and he wanted to work Brandy before trying, yet again, to back him tomorrow. There always seemed to be something delaying him from working the young brumby.

  Mrs Naylor already had breakfast cooking when Ben dragged himself into the kitchen. “Morning, Mum. Something smells good.”

  “You’d better eat plenty before goi
ng out in that cold. Here, there’s sausage and eggs, beans and mushrooMs Put some toast on, will you?”

  Ben complied before sitting down at the kitchen table. Delicious smells of frying stirred his appetite. His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  A cold draught blew around Ben’s legs as Mr Naylor came in. “Morning, Ben. I’ll need you to move those wethers today too. There’s going to be more snow tonight, so shift them through to the Finch paddock. There’s plenty of shelter there.”

  Ben mumbled a reply to his father, trying not to show his frustration at yet another chore. He tucked into the plate of breakfast his mother set in front of him, keeping his head low as he shovelled food into his mouth.

  Still chewing his last mouthful, he crossed to the back door and slipped on his rubber boots. “I’ll go feed those calves before I muck out.”

  Buttoning up his heavy overcoat, Ben braced himself against the weather as he left. Ice crunched under his feet. The sting of cold on his face made him pull his beanie further down over his ears.

  After an hour of lugging hay bales, shovelling manure and hefting feed bags, Ben had warmed up. He stretched his aching back and leant on his rake as he surveyed the cattle pen. He still had more than half the yard to muck out and he hadn’t even fed the horses yet. The scrunch of tyres in the driveway broke into his thoughts.

  “Ben! I’m glad you’re here. I was worried you might already have been out riding. It’s not a very nice day, is it?” Marilyn Smythe-Waters strolled across from her four-wheel-drive, a wicker basket covered in a cloth swinging from one arm. The woman seemed the total opposite of her husband—small and trim, quiet and polite.

  Ben walked across the yard to meet her, scratching his nose. “I’m trying to finish my chores so I can go out. This weather won’t stop me. Mum’s in the house.”

  Mrs Smythe-Waters smiled and put down her basket. It looked very heavy. “It was you I came to see. Francesca has been pestering me the last two weeks about giving something to Old Harry for helping out when they were lost. I didn’t know how to find him, or what to give him. It occurred to me you’d know where he lives.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Louise and I’ve tried to find him, but he’s always found us. Sorry, I can’t help you.” Even if Ben did know where Harry lived, he knew he wouldn’t tell a Smythe-Waters. He suspected they’d use the information to get the old hermit kicked out of the park.

  “I’ve baked all these things for him. There’s a fruit loaf, ginger bread biscuits and treacle cakes. I thought they might help him keep warm. I doubt they’re the sorts of things he could cook himself in the bush.” Mrs Smythe-Waters picked up the basket without making a move to leave. Despite her hair blowing into her face, her smile never wavered.

  “And a bottle of rum?” Ben knew his father liked a tot in his tea on cold days.

  “Oh no! I wouldn’t dream of giving him spirits. I believe he hasn’t touched a drop since his accident.” Mrs Smythe-Waters seemed quite shocked.

  Ben straightened up. “Accident? What accident?”

  Mrs Smythe-Waters shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was years ago, before I was born. I’ve only heard rumours in Goldriver, back in the days when Harry came to town more often. My father ran many more acres than we do now, and sometimes Harry would break horses in for him, but that’s years past.”

  The stories about Harry intrigued Ben. “I’d love to know more about him. He’s never mentioned how he came to live in the park.”

  “It’s not my habit to spread gossip. Why don’t you ask him? If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

  Ben realised he wouldn’t get any more out of her and respected her silence. Not wanting Harry to miss out on this feast, he changed his mind. Maybe the offer was genuine. “I guess I could leave that food somewhere for him. There’s a place I know that he often visits.”

  “Oh, would you? That would be so kind. Thank you. Have you got something to carry this in?” She removed the cloth from the basket and showed Ben the contents.

  “Yeh, that’ll fit in my saddle bags. I’ll go and grab them.” Ben sloshed his way across to the tack room.

  When he returned, he could see that there had been some excitement in his absence.

  Mrs Smythe-Waters strained against Nibbles, holding her by the collar. The picnic basket lay on its side near her car. “She snuck up on me. Don’t let her get at the cake.”

  Ben grabbed the goat and dragged her away. “I’ll chain her up. It never takes her long to smell food.”

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or admire the way the woman had handled Nibbles. The goat was very strong when determined to get something. It would be a shame to let her ruin Harry’s treats.

  With the nanny secured in the garden, they transferred the food into the packs which bulged out so far that the straps struggled to fasten on the last holes.

  “I’ll be off. Do pass on our thanks to Harry when you see him. We are very grateful to you and Louise too. I think James has already talked to Robert about something that you asked for. Have a good ride.”

  Ben hung the saddle bags back in the tack room. It would still be awhile before he could ride out in the park. He thought about what he’d learnt regarding Harry. Hopefully he’d see him and perhaps could ask him about his past.

  Mrs Naylor’s voice rang out from the back doorway. “Ben! Phone!”

  After running across to the house, Ben kicked off his boots and took the receiver that hung on its cord. “Yeh?”

  “Ben, it’s Louise. I’ve finished all my homework, and Mum spoke to my teachers in the week and they’re happy with my progress, so I’m allowed out. I can come over today if you’re not too busy.”

  Ben cheered up immediately, the list of chores forgotten. “Cool! We’ve got to take some stuff to Old Harry. Come as soon as you can so we can work the brumbies first. I’ll tell you all about it then.”

  After hanging up, Ben attacked his jobs with renewed energy. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed Louise’s company. The day no longer seemed so dreary.

  Ben had Ned and Snip plus the two brumbies in by the time Louise cycled into the yard. The four horses pulled on their hay nets in the stables.

  Louise looked over the half door where Ben groomed Snip. “They’re very muddy again. What are we going to do with them?”

  Ben cleaned the dandy brush against the rubber curry comb. “I thought we’d pony them out today, and work them in the round yard before backing them tomorrow.”

  “Awesome! I can’t wait to ride Honey. I’ll go and brush her and Ned.” Louise hurried to grab her gear and set to work scrubbing the crusty mud from the horses’ long coats. When she finished, she peered over Ben’s door again. “Honey’s sore seems healed up, but I don’t think I’ll put the saddle on her today. What do you think?”

  “No, I wouldn’t risk it if I were you. Maybe put a bit more of that cream on just in case, and hopefully it will be good for tomorrow.” Ben slipped the bridle onto Snip, leading him out into the yard before turning to get his stallion.

  Brandy wore a headcollar over his bridle and a saddle. Ben had added a sack full of wool on top of the saddle, tied on with baling twine. He hoped that, to Brandy, it would feel like a rider. The stirrups swung with each step, banging against the brumby’s sides.

  Ben prepared to mount Snip, with Brandy on his near side. Suddenly he remembered his father’s orders over breakfast. “I’ve forgotten to move the sheep. We’ll have to do it on horseback. Can you hang onto these two while I let Snifter off?”

  Louise left her horses in the stable while Ben fetched his dog. As the blue heeler bounded over, she handed the reins back to Ben and mounted up. Honey stood patiently alongside Ned, nuzzling his neck with her velvety nose. The Appaloosa ignored her and watched as Ben opened the gate through to the sheep.

  Ben waited u
ntil Louise had passed before manoeuvring his horses through, latching the gate shut behind them. He swung up into the saddle and whistled Snifter. “Get ’em, boy. Find the sheep.”

  Walking slowly around the paddock, Ben whistled instructions to his dog. The blue heeler pushed the small mobs of wethers together and herded them across the field to the far side. With the whole flock huddled close, Ben rode ahead and opened the gate through to the next paddock. “Can you count them as they go through? There should be a hundred and twenty-two.”

  Louise sat Ned a short way back from the open gate where she could see them passing through without getting in the way. “I’m ready.”

  Ben and Snifter worked the sheep. Snip struggled to obey Ben’s aids to move across; Brandy didn’t understand this work and blocked the gelding at every stride. The young stallion snapped his teeth at Snip when Ben asked him to go left, and pulled back on the lead rope when Ben tried to go right. The two horses didn’t seem able to work together, though they had no trouble when going out on the road in a straight line.

  The sheep had started to drift apart and move back into the paddock. “This is crazy. I’ll never move the sheep like this. Can you give it a go?”

  Taking over the count at the gate, Ben watched Louise as she tried to drive the sheep through with Ned and Honey. Although the two horses worked better than his own, Louise didn’t seem to know when to move against the sheep and when to stop. They either didn’t move in the right direction, or stopped and looked the wrong way. “This isn’t working either. We’ll have to try something else.”

  Ben jumped off Snip and tied him to the fence a little way behind where Louise had returned to her counting spot. Still holding on to Brandy, he worked the horse from the ground, bending him this way and that, making him go away from him and then follow. The stallion started to lower his head and soften.

  More confident that the brumby had his mind on his work, Ben whistled to Snifter. Running on foot, with Brandy following his every move, Ben ran backwards and forwards like a sheep dog, working one side of the flock while Snifter worked the other. Brandy spun and changed direction with Ben, always keeping an eye on the end of the rope that Ben spun to keep him moving. The stirrups banged and flapped against his sides and the wool sack bounced on his back. None of that fazed him.