The Golden Stranger
Page 16
‘This is a good spot,’ Barry insisted.
‘Whatever.’ The last thing she needed now was an argument with her dad. She stepped out of the car, pausing a moment to stretch her travel-cramped legs. An icy wind made its way into her lungs, bringing with it the smell of the piggery. She took a moment to take in the country. A cool gust grabbed at her shirt, lifting and flapping it.
On the float behind, Rocko pawed impatiently. As if in response, there was another whicker in the distance.
Shara looked out across the paddock to where a new horse walked towards them. ‘Oh, look, it’s a silver taffy! Gosh, they all sound the same.’
Barry laughed.
She looked closer. The horse walked to a bucket and picked it up in its teeth, then tossed it up and down before throwing it halfway across the paddock. ‘Oh my God, it’s Goldie,’ she squealed. She looked at her dad, confused. ‘Are the new owners keeping him here?’
She didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or horrified. It would be absolute torture watching someone else enjoying Goldie. Her mind raced. How would any of the kids from Canningdale have heard about him? She hadn’t been in touch with any of her classmates all holidays, not even Stacey. ‘Did one of the students buy him?’
‘Yes,’ smiled Barry. ‘A really nice girl, from a really nice family, just like John said.’
‘Who?’
Her dad chuckled.
‘Who, Dad? Why are you smiling like that?’
‘I’m proud of you, Shara. You really did put things right, with dignity and selflessness.’
‘He’s . . .?’ Shara didn’t dare say it. She’d been crushed once before.
‘He’s yours, love,’ said Barry. ‘Goldie is yours. He’s gone to the very best of homes.’
‘Oh, Dad!’ Shara threw her arms around his neck. ‘You knew! You knew the whole time, and you let me suffer.’
He squeezed her, still chuckling. ‘Stop snivelling on me now,’ he said. ‘Go out and say hello to your new horse.’ He reached into the boot and handed her something lumpy wrapped in stripy paper. ‘Happy birthday.’
It was a silver halter, cob size. ‘Perfect for a horse called Goldie!’ Shara exclaimed happily. She gave her dad another quick hug and then slipped through the fence.
Goldie rolled the bucket along with his nose as she walked towards him. Suddenly he looked up and saw her, stopped what he was doing and pricked his ears. Then he flung his thick, silvery mane about in exaggerated, happy nods.
‘Hey there, stranger, did you miss me?’
Goldie nodded again, nickered softly and broke into a trot. He reached her and nudged his sweet golden face into her hip. She ran her hands along his cheeks, closed her eyes and rested her face on his forehead. ‘No more rodeos,’ she whispered softly. ‘And we can even go and visit your mum in the holidays.’
She felt a pull at her shoulder and, before she knew it, Goldie had hold of the new halter in his teeth and was trotting away from her, his tail in the air.
‘Hey!’ she yelled, running after him. ‘Give that back!’
The colt broke into a canter. Rocko galloped after him from the gateway, where Barry had been holding him, and the two horses scooted around the paddock, bucking and kicking. Goldie waved the halter teasingly around in his teeth.
She walked back to the gate and let herself through. ‘Sorry about the halter, Baz.’
Her dad looked tolerant.
‘I’ll find it in the morning.’ Shara stood, shoulder to shoulder with her dad, watching her two horses canter down and up a small gully, wheel about at the fence and gallop back again. She put her elbows and chin on the fence rail and her father did the same, and together they watched the pink and gold of the sky sink behind the boree trees and felt the chill on the wind of the approaching winter. The shapes of the horses grew darker until their silhouettes grazed peacefully beside each other.
Shara finally turned and took her bags from the car. She could smell shepherd’s pie baking in the big school ovens. They would be dishing it up any minute, with soggy, grey-green broccoli and watery carrots. Jess would have sent her at least half a dozen emails by now, and she couldn’t wait to tell Corey about her new horse. As though on cue, her phone buzzed.
Bring him home next hols and I’ll help you start him. Bags first sit. He’ll buck like a pro.
Corey already knew! Unbelievable! She thumbed a message back.
I don’t do rodeo. And nor does my horse!
Acknowledgements
SPECIAL THANKS to my beautiful girls, Annabelle and Ruby, for being so good and patient while Mum’s been locked away working, to Anthony for your endless love and support, and to my mum for looking after my little wildies so I could write.
Thanks to Katherine Waddington of the Australian Brumby Alliance for your encouragement, stories, photos, experiences and knowledge about wild horses; to Kath Massey of the Hunter Valley Brumby Association, and to Christine O’Rourke from Guy Fawkes Heritage Horse Association for showing me your beautiful Guy Fawkes horses.
Not nearly enough credit is given to editors, designers, marketing teams and publishing pros in the success of a book. It takes so many more people than just a lone author. So, to the entire team at Allen & Unwin, whose skills and talent have made my books come to life, my heartfelt thanks. And another extra-special thanks to my publisher, Sarah Brenan, and my editor, Hilary Reynolds; I learn so much more every time I work with you.
About the Author
KAREN WOOD has been involved with horses for most of her life. Her most special horse is a little chestnut stockhorse called Reo. Karen is married with two children and lives on the Central Coast, New South Wales.
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