He walked out to the surf beach on the first warm day. He thought he might have a swim to try and shake off the tiredness that lay on him. He and Joycie used to have such a good time out here. The purple flags were flowering. It must be his birthday. He didn’t really care—Devil couldn’t sing Happy Birthday, or make the food that Joycie made. He climbed wearily to the top of the dunes to look over the beach.
There were horse tracks on the sand! Four sets of tracks!
He looked down the beach, straining his eyes to pick up something through the sea-mist. Nothing. They must have passed by early this morning.
‘Look, Devil! They’re back!’ He felt better straight away. ‘Come on, let’s follow them.’ He began to run in the direction the horses had gone, skipping along the seaweed the way Joycie always made him, leaving no tracks. The dingo followed for a few paces, then turned back. He howled from the top of the dunes, and Joe stopped. ‘I’m not staying just because you don’t want to go,’ he muttered half to himself. ‘I’ll see you at home.’ He laughed as he hurried along the beach. Devil looked just like Joycie used to when he did something she didn’t want him to.
Joe peered down through the banksia leaves at the cattle standing in the clearing.
‘Saaalt! Saalt!’ The voice came from just below him. He nearly fell out of the tree. ‘Come on! Saalt! Salt! Saaalt!’ The noise was deafening. It was so loud after months of solitude. The cattle milled towards the call, and a horse and rider moved into his view. It was just a kid! A girl. A bit bigger than him, but not much. And the horse was a little one, too. Just his size. A beautiful little white horse with a long shining mane. Like the Phantom’s horse, Hero.
The kid started to call again, and leaned down to tip small piles of salt onto the ground. Two golden plaits poked from under her beanie. They shone, even shinier than the horse’s mane. Joe felt his own hair, long and matted, and not smelling that good either, he noticed. Joycie would be cross if she knew how dirty he’d got.
The cattle moved away from the tree to lick at the piles of salt, and Joe slid down the trunk and slipped into the scrub. He wriggled through the tea-tree and swordgrass until he was beside the packhorse.
‘Hey, boy. How you doing?’ Blue whinnied in recognition as Joe rested his head against the old horse’s neck. He loved the feel of horses. They were so big and warm, so gentle. They smelt good. He felt under the flap on the pack-saddle. Oats, rope, pans, no, that wasn’t what he was looking for. He felt in another pocket. Yes! His hand closed around a small, flat slab. Chocolate!
Joe stayed beside the old horse all afternoon, sucking on the chocolate bar, and watching the girl. He really liked the look of her and her little horse. It would be good to just step out of the bush and talk.
When Lorna drove her mob of steers into the clearing, his heart gave a little skip. He was pleased to see her, even if she didn’t know he existed. He listened greedily to their conversation. So this was Biddy! And Lorna was her mum. He nearly burst trying to hold in his giggles when they started talking about Blue, and what was spooking the cattle.
He shadowed the cattle back to the holding yards, moving through the bush like a whisper. Top and Nugget came to him when the mob was moving quietly, wagging their tails and licking his hands. They were old friends. A whistle came and they raced away. Joe could hear them barking and the drovers shouting. ‘Here! Push up! That’s enough. Come here. Come here!’ He ran ahead and climbed the stony ridge that overlooked the holding yards, so he was very close to the cattle and riders as they passed below.
‘They look guilty. Don’t you think, Biddy? Those two dogs have been up to no good.’ Lorna reached over to Biddy and patted her back. ‘They’ve been nicking off ever since we left the flat. I wonder . . . ’
Biddy didn’t answer. She looked tired, worn out. He knew that feeling. Sometimes when Joycie had taken him on a long day’s hunting, he’d felt like that at the end of the day. Sometimes mums didn’t realise how tired you got.
Joe leaned against Blue, soaking up his body heat. He gazed into the fire from the darkness. Biddy had been asleep for ages, snoring in her swag. Her parents sat together, their faces shining in the glow of the coals.
‘I have to do it,’ he thought. ‘I have to go up and talk to them.’ The thought of them going back up the beach without him made him feel sick. He didn’t want to be left behind on the headland. He didn’t want to be all alone. It might be scary back at the town, but it would be better than this. His hands plaited and fiddled with the old horse’s mane as his mind raced. Joycie had taught him all sorts of fancy plaits.
He thought about Devil, about his house. If he went out to Lorna and Dave now, they mightn’t let him go back to the gully. And he had to. All his things were there. The comics, the books, the blue-and-silver tin . . . If he went there now, he could be back by tomorrow morning. And then he could come out of the bush and say . . . what? ‘My name is Joe.’ Maybe he’d just stand there.
He wriggled forward to where the pack-saddle lay on the ground and felt through the food bag. His hand closed around a packet of bacon. Mmm, he’d had this before, from the store. He’d go home, have a farewell feast with Devil, get his things, and be back by morning.
The moon disappeared behind the ridge just as he dropped into his gully. Lucky it lasted so long, he thought. The walk had been hard, but it would have been much worse in pitch dark. He was so tired. He moved like a zombie through the gloom. A shadow detached itself from the house and moved towards him.
‘Devil. Good boy.’ He crouched down and hugged the dingo to him. Devil sniffed and stepped back. A low growl rose from his throat. ‘Hey, don’t be like that. I haven’t brought the dogs with me. It’s just their smell.’
Joe pulled Devil’s ears and rubbed the loose skin around his face. This was how their games usually started, but not tonight. Instead of pricking his ears and leaping away for Joe to chase him, the dingo walked back to the hut and lay down, settling his chin onto his paws with a sigh.
‘You know, don’t you? You know I’m going.’ Joe sat beside him and ruffled the stiff yellow coat. ‘You’re such a smart dog. You always know what’s happening. But I’ve got to go. You belong here, but I don’t. I need to be with people.’ A sob caught in Joe’s throat. He pressed his face into Devil’s neck and wiped his tears on the fur. ‘Devil, I don’t want to leave you.’
The dingo sat and watched him steadily while he made a small fire in the fireplace and fried the bacon. He didn’t take his eyes off Joe as he moved in and out of the hut, gathering his things. Joe was so tired he couldn’t think straight, and kept changing his mind about what he was taking and what he was leaving behind. He’d have to go as soon as they’d eaten the bacon. He groaned at the thought of the walk back to the holding yards. It was such a long way, and now the night was really black. The bacon smelt so good. Joe grabbed a piece out of the pan and ate it, burning his fingers and his mouth but too hungry to care.
‘Ow! Mmmnn. Oh, that’s delicious.’ He tossed a rasher to Devil. ‘Here, boy, here’s a bit for you.’ The dingo looked down his nose at the sizzling morsel as if to say, ‘If that was the last food on earth, you traitor, I wouldn’t eat it.’
Joe leaned against the side of his hut and pulled Devil to him. The fire warmed them as they nestled together. I’ll just rest for a little while, he thought, just shut my eyes for a moment before I go.
When he had been asleep for a short time, Devil bent down and delicately picked up the bacon. He ate it with great care, licked every trace of fat from his muzzle, then settled his head and slept before the fire.
Joe forced his eyes open. Where was he? Why was he outside his house, not in his snug bed? Dawn was breaking. Ugh, his body was stiff and sore. The first rays of sun were filtering into the gully and the scrub wrens were calling and flitting through the bush. No! He suddenly remembered. He should be back at the holding yards
now, not here. He’d miss them! They’d go up the beach with the cattle and never even know he was here.
He grabbed the bag he’d packed last night. If he ran he might catch them. He’d heard Lorna say they had more mustering to do in the morning, before they left. ‘Come with me, Devil. Come on!’ he called to the dog. ‘Keep me company some of the way.’
He started running along the gully floor, silently on the soft moss, and Devil loped behind him.
He ran for hours. Slipped, fell, got up, and ran again. Through the swordgrass, across the marshes, along the tea-tree tunnels. If I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, he told himself, I can keep going. When he climbed across the boulders on the side of Windy Ridge he could see the sea sparkling out to the west. It was a beautiful day, clear and bright. They would have been up early.
He hurried along the ridge, leaping from rock to rock, and stopped at the last overhang to peer down towards the holding yards, looking for some movement, for a sign of life. He couldn’t see the beach from here because it was blocked by the shoulder of the hill. Maybe they were out there already. Or they could still be mustering. He looked up at the sun; it was almost directly overhead. He’d have to go down to the camp to see.
He began to stumble off, then realised Devil wasn’t following him. ‘Oh, mate! Come here.’ He dropped his bag and reached his arms out to the dingo, who jumped down to him. ‘I’ll never forget you, Devil.’ He buried his face in the yellow fur and held him close for a moment. ‘I can’t stay. They’ll be leaving.’ Devil whined, but Joe pushed him away and crashed down the mountain side, his eyes blurred with tears; falling, rolling, scrambling.
He knew he’d missed them the minute he walked into the camp. Everything was gone. The fire had been doused. The stink of cattle was still there, though. Joe leaned against the yards and looked at the tracks that ran down to the river. He was so exhausted he felt as if he was somehow looking at himself standing there. He was so sad, so alone. He couldn’t stay. He looked at the tracks again, wearily picked up his bag, and trudged out of the camp, following the cattle. He’d catch up with them.
The cattle tracks made the beach look dirty. Instead of smooth pale sand, it was dark and churned-up. It looked as if something terrible had happened, Joe thought. Well, it had. He’d missed his chance. Biddy and her parents had gone and he hadn’t said hello. There was no sign of them in the distance. The tracks just ran into the sea-mist. He kept walking. He’d catch up, even if it wasn’t until he got to their place. Something caught his eye and he bent to pick it up. It was Biddy’s knitted hat. He pulled it on his head and smiled to himself. ‘Ah, er, hello. I’m Joe. I found this on the beach, and I think it’s yours.’ He couldn’t imagine where he would be standing when he said that.
He walked on in a daze, stopping occasionally to heave his bag onto the other shoulder. It was a beautiful day, and although the wind was cold, it was at his back, helping him up the beach. He watched a line of pelicans gliding and banking along the surf. He wondered if they were the pelicans from his summer camp. His eyes followed the birds as they flew away from him, out along the sandbar. What was that?
It looked like a lump of seaweed or driftwood, half buried, but as he strained his eyes to see, it seemed to move.
It did move!
The thought crossed his mind that it might be a stranded whale. Maybe it was a monster, or a bunyip. It looked pretty weird. It looked a bit like a horse.
He started to run along the sandbar, pausing now and then to try to see just what it was.
It was a horse. It was Bella!
The pony lifted her head feebly from the quicksand and whinnied to Joe. He sat his bag on the firm sand and waded through the slop to her.
‘Oh, Bella! What’s happened?’ The pony looked half dead.
Joe sat down and cradled Bella’s head in his lap, brushing the sand off her eyes and patting her. ‘Why have they left you?’ Maybe Biddy or someone was hurt. There must be a reason. Who’d leave a pony stuck like this? He looked behind him. The tide was almost right out now, but soon it would be turning. Bella would drown if he couldn’t get her out. He scooped up a handful of quicksand. Instantly more sand oozed into the space he made.
‘Oh, Bella, I don’t know if I can do this.’ He leaned into her neck. Why was everything so hard? What would Joycie do?
He thought, then remembered the time he’d asked her about the shell necklace, the necklace from Seal Island. How, he had asked, how could anyone have threaded all those shells, hundreds of shells? Little bit at a time, Joycie had smiled, little bit at a time. He patted Bella, then whispered into her ear. ‘I’m going to get you out, pony, if I have to dig all day.’
Joe didn’t know how long he’d been digging. He lay beside Bella and scooped handfuls of quicksand, one at a time, and flung them onto the hard sand. He used his right arm until it ached, and then he used his left arm. When it started hurting he swapped back to his right arm. He didn’t seem to be making any headway. The sand oozed back into every hole he dug. But, he thought, it had to be doing some good. He leaned against Bella’s neck and rested for a moment in the afternoon sun. The tide had started to come in. The first flat sheets of water were creeping over the sandbar, but Joe didn’t notice. He slept by Bella’s side.
A familiar feeling woke him—the touch of whiskers on his face. Devil! Joe opened his eyes, and it was Devil, grinning at him and wagging his tail. His foxy look, Joe called it. He looked like this when he thought he was being very clever.
‘Devil! You followed me! I’m so glad to see you!’ Joe looked behind him and was shocked to see water over the sandbar. ‘Come on, mate, help me dig.’ He sank on his knees into the bog, and dug like a dog, throwing the sand out behind him. ‘Come on, Devil, like this.’
Devil watched for a moment, head on one side, puzzled.
‘Come on, you dumb dog! Dig!’
A flicker crossed Devil’s eyes. He knew he’d been insulted. He turned and started to dig beside Joe.
The first big wave came without warning, flooding into the quicksand. Joe was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t hear it coming. The icy water shocked him. Devil leapt back, and Bella snorted with fright. When the wave receded Joe looked at the bog in despair. ‘We haven’t made any difference, Devil. All that digging, and she’s stuck the same as when I found her.’ He floundered back to Bella’s head and hugged it, crying with frustration. ‘I’m sorry, Bella. I’m sorry.’
As the sea rushed around them he held Bella’s head up, out of the water. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was going to drown. Devil backed towards the shore, whining, wanting him to come out. ‘I can’t leave her!’ Joe yelled at him, ‘I can’t leave her to drow—’
A wave swept right over them. Water filled his eyes and mouth. He coughed, choking, and twisted his fingers through Bella’s mane to pull her head as high as he could. Only her eyes and nostrils were out of the water now. Joe heaved on her mane.
What was that?
She moved! He pulled again, and this time felt a definite shift. The water must be loosening the quicksand! It was releasing her.
‘Come on, Bella, fight! Come on, struggle!’
He kept dragging on the silver mane. The waves were getting bigger. Each one knocked him down, but Bella was rising, was floating out of the quicksand. He felt her begin to kick feebly. Her cramped and frozen legs found strength and suddenly she was free!
Joe didn’t let go of her mane. He wasn’t going to lose her now. He guided her as the waves chased them to the shore, where Devil ran up and down, yipping frantically. Bella’s legs wobbled as she walked up the beach. ‘Keep going, Bella. Keep walking.’ Joe steered her towards a gap in the dunes. He had to get her off the beach and out of the wind. He hardly noticed Devil. He had to keep Bella moving. The ocean roared behind them. We beat you, he thought. We got away.
The sky was darkening. Bella stood where he’d let her stop, her head down, and her sides heaving. Her eyes were very dull. I’ll have to fetch her a drink, Joe thought. I’ll get my billy and bring her some water from the creek.
‘Oh, no!’ He remembered he’d left his bag on the sand where Bella was bogged. The thought flattened him. It was too much. All his things, all his life, everything he’d gone back for, had missed Biddy and her parents for, had run so far for; it was all gone. He put his head in his hands and wept.
He felt Devil’s whiskers on his arm, and looked up. He was doing that look again, that foxy look he did when he thought he’d been very clever. Joe broke into a huge smile and kissed the dingo right on his big black nose. He was clever, very clever. He was holding Joe’s bag in his jaws.
‘What do you mean, Joycie’s baby?’ Lorna asked sharply. ‘We’ve never told you about Joycie. Have you been—’
‘Irene told me,’ Biddy blurted quickly. ‘The day you said I could go on the muster. We were talking at school, and she told me about Joycie and Joe. She reckons they never drowned, that they went to live on the headland—’
‘But that was nine years ago,’ Biddy’s father cut in. ‘They couldn’t have lived out there for all that time.’
The Quicksand Pony Page 6
