by Karen Wood
‘He’s violent, Jess.’
‘He is not,’ said Jess, raising her voice. ‘He’s the most unviolent person I know!
‘I just want you to be careful,’ said Caroline.
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore because he hates my guts,’ Jess screamed as loudly as she could. She stormed past her mother, flew up the stairs of the house and slammed herself inside her room with a thunderous crash of her door.
As she threw herself onto the bed she ripped her phone from her pocket and began thumbing a text message to Shara, Grace and Rosie.
I hate all men!!!!!
Within minutes, it buzzed back at her.
Grace: join the club.
Shara: omg, Ws^?
Rosie: Huh?
Lawsons taken opal, he wont sell her 2 me,
luke stuck ^ 4 him, we had a fight.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, rumble.
Grace: yep, the boys always stick together,
told you!!!
Shara: omg, why? when? what did luke say?
Rosie: What time is it???
Luke wouldnt take me droving, said opals a dud,
bad advertising for marnie, theyr all misogynists,
if opal was a colt theyd save her!
Jess’s phone began having epileptic fits in her hand.
Grace: told u they r all pigs!
Shara: omg! I can’t believe he said that!
Rosie: wotz a misogynist? too early, head hurts,
groan.
Buzz, buzz, rumble.
Grace: they r all girl haters – derrr rosie!
Rosie: shut up dog breath.
I’m never gona c opal again
That afternoon, Jess lay on her bed listening to the angriest music she could find on her iPod and thinking about Luke out droving, male, as free as a bird, and with no parents to tell him what he could and couldn’t do.
Over pauses in the music, she heard the persistent ring of the phone and a muffled conversation. Seconds later, her door opened and her mother stood there mouthing something.
‘What?’
Caroline leaned over the bed and plucked out Jess’s earplugs. ‘Come to the kitchen and have a talk with us for a minute.’
In the kitchen, her parents sat at the table looking grave. ‘Come and sit down, honey,’ said Caroline. ‘Judy Arnold just rang.’
Jess felt her breathing slow. ‘What for?’ Grace and Rosie’s crazy mum never rang this house. ‘What’s wrong?’
Craig exhaled thoughtfully and looked at his wife, as if to clarify that they were in consensus.
‘What?’ Jess became increasingly worried. ‘Is it Rosie or Grace? What? What’s happened?’
‘She’s going out to Blakely Downs with the girls to join Lawson and Ryan,’ said Craig.
Jess’s jaw dropped. ‘Grace and Rosie too? You’re kidding me!’ She groaned, then quickly geared up for a rant. ‘Everyone gets to go but me! My filly is thrown out in the middle of nowhere with no one to look after her, and everyone is just going off chasing cows!’
‘Well, they’ve invited you to go too,’ said Caroline.
Jess swallowed her rant, unsure if she’d heard right.
Her mother nodded.
Jess folded her arms. ‘And let me guess – I’m not allowed to go. I have to go and do karmic yoga sessions under the full moon for six months until I can nurture my anger with love!’
‘It’s only for ten days over the holidays. I’m sure we can postpone the yoga until you get back,’ Caroline said dryly.
‘You’re letting me go?’
‘Well, as we said earlier,’ said Craig, ‘if there wasn’t just a bunch of men out there, we’d be more likely to consider it. With a responsible woman to chaperone you, then maybe . . .’
‘You’ll be away for your birthday,’ said Caroline.
‘I’m going?’
Caroline smiled and nodded.
Jess screamed and threw her arms around her mother. Then she leapt from the chair and did a dance around the kitchen. ‘I’m going to Blakely Downs! I can find Opal and bring her back.’ She paused and looked at her mum. ‘How will I get Dodger out there?’
‘He’s not going.’
‘Why not? Who will I ride?’
‘You’re not riding.’
‘Not riding?’
‘You’ll be cooking and helping Mrs Arnold to pack up and move camp,’ said Craig.
Jess gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Of course.’
‘That is the only way we’ll allow you to go, Jessica,’ said her father. ‘You will be under her strict supervision.’
‘This trip is not about Opal,’ said Caroline. ‘You’ll be on the road with the cattle. She’ll be turned out on the station somewhere. I doubt you’ll even see her.’
Jess let her mother’s words float in one ear, waft around and then sail out the other. She would find a way to bring Opal home. ‘Grace was so right,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Boys get to do all the fun stuff.’
‘You’re not going out there for a holiday, Jess. Droving is hard work and long hours. Lawson is expecting you to work. His horses will be working hard too, moving cattle all day, so I doubt you’ll be riding much,’ her father repeated. ‘Even if you stay in one spot for a few days, there’ll still be meals to cook and jobs to do.’
‘I know, I know, I’ll work really hard,’ said Jess, her mind already plotting.
‘Oh, and there’s one more thing,’ said Caroline.
‘What?’ Jess broke from her scheming. ‘Is there a catch?’
‘Shara is going too.’
‘Yesss!’ Jess couldn’t believe her luck. ‘Are Shara and Rosie and Grace taking their horses?’
‘Nope, you’re all going in the car with Mrs Arnold.’
Jess slumped. ‘Well, that’ll make it difficult.’ How would she ride back to the station to find Opal?
‘I don’t see why,’ said Caroline. ‘You won’t need a horse to pack camp and cook.’
‘Oh yeah,’ smiled Jess, brushing it off. ‘Course not!’
‘And don’t you even think of sneaking off with Luke, young lady.’
‘I wouldn’t!’ said Jess, incensed.
But with Opal I might . . .
Caroline scoffed. ‘You just did, Jessica. You scared the life out of me. If you dare do that to Mrs Arnold, I’ve told her she is to send you straight home.’
‘I promise I won’t, Mum.’
‘You’d better not,’ Caroline reiterated. ‘I’m serious, Jess. If you don’t do exactly what Mrs Arnold says, you’ll be on the first train home.’
‘I will, I won’t,’ groaned Jess. Then she was suddenly serious. She looked at her dad. ‘Will you take care of Dodger for me while I’m gone?’
‘Sure,’ he nodded. ‘Come on, we’ll go down to the shed and you can show me everything I need to do.’ Jess could tell he was fighting the urge to look happy for her. She didn’t mind, though; she knew looking grave and apprehensive about your daughter’s crazy plans was considered the proper parental thing to do.
9
JUDY ARNOLD DIDN’T BOTHER to slow down for the potholes in the driveway. The headlights threw wild streaks of light around the front yard as she barrelled the chunky LandCruiser along at full speed, jamming on the brakes just as Jess thought it would career straight through the house. With the engine still running, she swung out of the driver’s side door, wearing thongs, jeans and an oilskin jacket.
Jess jumped off her packed duffle bag and hauled it down the front steps. ‘Just wait, Mrs Arnold,’ she called as she ran to the packing shed. ‘Mum donated some veggies.’ She grabbed the cardboard box by the doorway and carried it back to the four-wheel drive. ‘Reckon it’ll fit?’
Mrs Arnold looked at the box suspiciously. ‘We usually dehydrate stuff like that,’ she said. ‘It’ll go off pretty quick.’
‘It’s just a couple of days’ worth. Mum’s worried I’ll get scurvy.’ Although Jess knew it to be a ploy by
mothers everywhere, Caroline had done a particularly good job instilling in her a fear of spongy gums and bleeding lips.
‘Shove it in somewhere and let’s get going,’ said Mrs Arnold.
Jess wrestled the box in with the luggage and slammed the door. She dived into the back and threw her arms around Shara’s neck. ‘I’m so stoked you could come!’
‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ Shara gave her a squeeze, then whispered, ‘Let’s find Opal!’
The vehicle took off up the driveway.
‘Seatbelts!’ roared Mrs Arnold above the noise of the engine.
Jess hung her head out the window and waved to Caroline and Craig, who stood in their robes on the front verandah, looking bleary-eyed in the gentle rising of the day.
Grace leaned over and turned up the music. ‘Woohoo! Let’s get some road behind us!’
They reached Blakely Downs late in the afternoon. The station seemed little more than a set of yards built from metal poles, with a jumble of covered shelters behind them. There were long, shallow water troughs, cattle ramps and big metal hay feeders. A shed large enough to house an aeroplane sat beyond the yards, with old drums, spare tyres and assorted hoses and farm equipment scattered about. Timber pallets were loaded with sacks of fertiliser and other miscellaneous farm supplies. Several cattle crates were parked alongside the shed and the nose of a large bulldozer poked out from a wide doorway. In a distant yard, a few small, scruffy horses took shelter from the blistering sun under a stringy sapling.
‘Hey, that’s Rusty,’ said Jess, leaning over Shara to get a look out the opposite window. The little red brumby with his thick shaggy tail was unmistakeable. ‘Oh my God, look! There’s Tinks! They haven’t turned them out yet!’ Jess opened the door. ‘Opal must be here too!’
‘At least let me stop before you get out,’ said Mrs Arnold, as Jess suspended one leg out of the vehicle. ‘If you’ll just hang on, I’ll drive over there.’
Jess held the door ajar as they rumbled over the lumpy ground to the small yard. She strained to see into the yards, and was out and running before Mrs Arnold had the handbrake on.
‘Opal,’ she called, as she took hold of the top rail and peered under it. ‘Where are you, girl?’ Tinks and Rusty swished their tails and flicked an ear in her direction. ‘I can’t see her. Where is she? Opal!’
A man in jeans and a big hat walked out of the huge shed and strode towards her with a piece of greasy machinery and an old rag in his hands. Jess recognised his dark, familiar face with its neatly trimmed beard – it was the stockman who’d offered to buy Dodger at the Longwood campdraft.
‘Bob, where’s the foal?’ Mrs Arnold demanded, her thongs slapping as she walked to the yards.
The stockman pointed to the other end of the yard, where a small brown lump lay lifelessly in the sun, camouflaged by a coating of dust. ‘Sleeping.’
‘Grace reckons it’s got a spastic head. Is that right?’ Mrs Arnold folded her body over and let herself through the fence.
Jess glared at Grace, who held up her hands in innocence.
Bob nodded gravely, as he rubbed at the thing in his hands.
‘Be careful, she attacks people,’ warned Jess, climbing up onto the fence.
‘So does Mum,’ Grace sniggered.
Mrs Arnold gave her daughter a look of thunder, then turned to Jess. ‘Want me to look at the horse or not?’
Jess looked to Rosie.
‘It’s okay, she knows what she’s doing,’ her friend reassured her. ‘Come and sit on the fence and watch.’
Judy Arnold marched over to where Opal lay, then continued walking straight past her.
The filly startled and scrambled to her feet. She whinnied as she galloped to the other horses, who whinnied back and trotted to meet her.
‘They’re looking after her,’ said Jess. It was a touching sight. Opal nuzzled into Rusty’s side and Tinks came around from behind, circling her.
Mrs Arnold turned and walked past Opal again. As she did, Opal flattened her ears and broke from the mob, rushing at her.
The woman spun to face her, looked directly into her eyes and yelled ‘BAAAH!’ so loudly that Jess nearly fell off the fence. Opal stopped in her tracks and stared like a startled possum.
For a brief moment, the woman and the scrawny foal locked eyes, until Mrs Arnold waved her arms and yelled, ‘Gwahn! Get!’ Opal scuttled off to the other horses and Mrs Arnold turned her back and walked off. Opal trotted out and lunged at the intruder again, but Mrs Arnold spun around, and drove her away once more.
‘It’s got debil debil in its head, that one,’ said Bob.
Jess spun and glared at him.
He nodded at her. ‘How’s Dodger? You wanna sell that old fulla yet?’
Jess shook her head. ‘Sorry.’
Bob gestured at Opal in the camp. ‘That horse is from the min mins. She got debil debil in her head. I told Lawson.’
‘She’s not Lawson’s horse, she’s mine,’ Jess corrected him. ‘And she’s not a dud, if that’s what you’re trying to say.’
In the yards, Mrs Arnold kept pushing Opal away, and the more she did so, the more Opal came at her – or to her, Jess realised. It was hard to tell when the turnaround happened. After several more clashes, Mrs Arnold allowed Opal to follow for a few paces. Then she bent and lowered herself to the ground, sitting on one heel, with her hands crossed easily over her knee.
Opal dropped her crooked head and sniffed the back of her neck, and, without looking at her, Mrs Arnold reached back to give her a gentle rub. As though in a trance, Opal closed her eyes and rested her muzzle on the woman’s shoulder.
‘You do need some help, don’t you, little one,’ Mrs Arnold murmured as she stroked the bony forehead.
‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Rosie whispered to Jess.
‘That is amazing,’ whispered Jess in awe. ‘No one has ever been able to get near her without tranquillising her first.’
Shara gave Jess an excited squeeze. ‘Maybe her head’s getting better!’
Jess turned to Bob. ‘See? No debil debil!’
Bob continued polishing the thing in his hand. His expression didn’t change.
Mrs Arnold let the foal be and walked back towards the LandCruiser. Jess ran after her. ‘How did you do that, Mrs Arnold? No one has ever been able to get near her before.’
‘I just talked to her on her own terms,’ said Mrs Arnold. ‘Not that she had anything nice to say. Come on, we have to get going. Jump in.’
Jess turned to Bob. ‘Who’s looking after the horses back here?’
‘Oh, plenty of fullas to look after them, lots of staff. The debil horse stays at the homestead till Lawson gets back and makes sure she’s okay before he lets her out onto the station.’ He stared knowingly at Jess. ‘Said life wouldn’t be worth living if anything happened to her.’
‘He got that bit right,’ said Jess. ‘So what if anything happens when we’re out droving?’
‘They got Lawson’s number. They’ll call if she goes downhill.’
Jess ran to the four-wheel drive, scrawled her mobile number on the back of a scrap of paper and dashed back to Bob. ‘Can you tell them that this is the number to ring if anything happens to that filly? They’re to ring me, not Lawson.’
Bob gave her an uneasy look.
‘I’m the owner. They need to ring me,’ Jess repeated, shoving the piece of paper at him.
Bob looked at Mrs Arnold. ‘Who owns the horse?’
Mrs Arnold shrugged. ‘Lawson did promise it to her.’
Bob hesitantly took the number and walked back to the shed with it.
Jess squeezed into the LandCruiser with the other girls, her neck craned back to the yards. She felt a lifting of the heaviness she had been carrying, a sudden sense of hope. Mrs Arnold’s link-up with Opal was only a small step, but it was a forward one.
‘Hopping on, Bob?’ yelled Mrs Arnold, as she started the engine.
Bob emerged from the shed, slinging a small pack o
ver his shoulder, and jumped onto the running board that ran along the side of the four-wheel drive. He banged twice on the roof and Mrs Arnold shoved the vehicle into first and took off.
Jess stuck her head out the window. ‘Are you coming droving too?’
Bob nodded. ‘Horse tailer – my favourite job!’
10
THEY REACHED THE CAMP just as the sun was setting. Jess was relieved. If she had to listen to her friends sing the Kasey Chambers pony song one more time, she was going to have an aneurism.
The country was dotted with mulga trees and tufts of Mitchell grass, which Jess knew were filled with nutritional goodness despite a wiry, outwardly parched appearance. A gooseneck trailer towed by Lawson’s ute was parked by the side of a dirt track; a chunky stockman in black jeans tended the fire; tethered horses swished their tails, and motorbikes, scattered saddles and cooking equipment were strewn about. Another ute, old and yellow and missing the driver’s door, was parked nearby with a motorbike in the back.
Between the camp and the burning sunset, a large mob of cows were boxed inside a break that was fenced off with two strands of electric tape. Stretching away in the other direction, a separate ring of electric wires enclosed twenty or so horses as they chewed on the day’s grain rations. There were dogs everywhere: mostly big kelpies, plus a couple of heavy-jawed Smithfield cattle dogs chained to trees, panting.
‘Hey Jess, there’s Walkabout,’ said Grace.
Jess beamed. ‘Wally!’ Amid the horses, she could make out Walkabout’s spotted white rump. She ran her eyes over the filly, checking for saddle marks, and was relieved to find none.
Lawson stepped out of a side door in the trailer and walked out to meet them. Jess set her jaw hard and stared fiercely at him.
‘My dear Aunty Jude,’ he said, ignoring Jess.
‘Don’t give me that Dear Aunty routine,’ Mrs Arnold said dryly, but with the faintest hint of a smile.
Lawson peered into the back of the LandCruiser, where the girls were unclipping seatbelts and crawling over each other. ‘I see you brought the hired help along,’ he said.
