Heart of the Valley

by Cathryn Hein

  Angus gave her a leg-up and retreated to the edge of the arena with Lachlan. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the two men looking at one another, eyebrows raised, sharing one of those ‘Women!’ expressions. Well, to hell with them. She didn’t care what they thought. All she wanted was to be left in peace with her horses, secure in the home she loved.

  Ignoring them, she exercised Sod at the far end of the arena, first at a walk, then a trot, before finally easing him into a canter, gradually decreasing the size of the circles they made until he almost swivelled on his hocks. Despite his hissy fit, he knuckled down to work. Sweat sheened his dark coat and white flecks of foam dripped from his mouth. Collected training like this took effort and Sod habitually misbehaved, but today he pranced around like a dressage horse, obedient and supple, transitions seamless, his response to her aids immediate. She would have grumped at him for showing off if it weren’t so pleasurable.

  She caught sight of Angus and Lachlan as she brought Sod back to a walk and let him stretch on a loose rein for a few minutes. The men had moved to what she assumed was Lachlan’s vehicle. They leaned against the tray with heads close together, observing her and leaving her with no doubt she was the subject of their discussion.

  The gravelly ache returned to her throat and she stared between Sod’s ears. Today needed to end, and quickly. It’d been a disaster from the moment she’d woken in the fridge-like dairy with the fanciful idea that maybe if she tried to drive Andrew’s float, with one of his horses in it, her problem would disappear.

  He’d been as eager as she to test her theory. Though hints of strain remained, since the accident they’d both tried hard to act normal around each other. Needing her friend desperately, Brooke followed Andrew’s stoic lead, ignoring the strange looks he sometimes threw her way. Looks filled with hurt and another emotion she struggled to interpret; for the sake of their friendship she chose not to dwell on them. Without his and Chloe’s unrelenting support she didn’t know how she’d cope. They distracted her with visions of a normal future, discussing the coming spring show season as if everything was fine. That they’d all be competing as they usually did – Chloe on her show hack Elvis, and Brooke and Andrew with their showjumpers.

  Yet her grand idea had failed spectacularly. And now she fretted she’d made it worse.

  It was bad enough when it was her own horses, but the thought she could cause harm to someone else’s, someone she cared about deeply, had drowned her in panic. Sweat had soaked her shirt before she even turned on the engine and Andrew’s jokes and humorous wagers hadn’t soothed. They only made her realise how much was at stake.

  Her hand shaking and slippery with sweat, she’d crunched his truck into gear and, trembling feverishly, released the clutch. A heartbeat later, she’d yanked on the hand brake and was scrabbling for the door handle, black, blinding panic stealing her breath, her mind only on escape.

  Andrew had held her to his chest until she calmed, stroking her head and back with tenderness as she sobbed, protecting her from the blustery wind with his warmth, and clutching her as though she was the most precious thing on earth. Then he spoiled it by cupping her face in his palms and looking at her with those lovely pleading eyes and telling her he could solve everything. She could leave Kingston Downs and move in with him at Willowgrove. He’d look after her and her horses, make things right again. No more stress, no more family worries. Just the two of them, working together, doing what they loved. Jumping for the stars.

  Despair at what would become of her, of the life she adored, had her considering his offer, but only for a moment. It’d never work. She didn’t love him, not the way he wanted, and to live with him, even as friends, would only make things worse.

  So they’d parted, both feeling miserable, and all she wanted was to lose herself in work and her horses. Instead, she arrived home to find her brother and that good-looking goliath in residence. And as if that weren’t enough, she’d fallen off right in front of him.

  Yep, it was definitely time for the day to end.

  She gathered the reins and directed Sod into the showjumping arena. The clever thing to do would be to go for a gallop through the lanes, far away from Lachlan Cambridge and her brother’s scrutiny, but today was Sod’s jumping day and she wasn’t going to change her routine for them. Besides, she wasn’t about to run. This was her ground, and she’d damn well stand it.

  Half an hour later, she brought Sod to a walk and slapped at his neck, delighted at how well he’d gone. She’d worked drills over small fences, concentrating on putting him at the optimum take-off point each time – basic exercises that helped them both train their eyes. Sod hadn’t put a hoof wrong, and his uncharacteristically positive attitude helped lift the weight that had sat on her shoulders all morning.

  The men had disappeared, although both vehicles remained in the yard. As she rode back to the barn, she hunted round for them but couldn’t spy where they’d wandered to. Once inside, she slid off Sod and set about untacking him, yabbering nonsense as she worked, telling him how pleased she was with his performance, what a good boy he was, how she’d reward him with a few carrots in his feed. He ruffled his muzzle through her hair as she unstrapped his front near-side boot but he didn’t bite, and for the first time that day she smiled. Perhaps today marked the start of their true partnership.

  ‘’Bout time you did that.’

  Brooke jerked her head up, almost catching Sod on the chin. She stroked his cheek in apology before regarding her brother. He lounged against the tack-room grille, smiling at her.

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Smile.’

  She sighed and ducked under Sod’s neck to reach his off foreleg. ‘I do it a lot, Angus. You’re just not around to see it.’

  ‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Who’s been telling tales?’

  ‘Pretty much everyone. They’re worried about you, Brooke. We all are.’

  She tossed the boot aside and moved on to Sod’s hind brushing boots. Not taking the hint, Angus remained at the grille, leaving her no choice but to face him when she’d finished stripping the boots. She leaned against Sod’s neck, rubbing his face and fondling his ears, grateful for his solid warm bulk. ‘I’m all right, Angus. Honestly.’

  He nodded but his expression revealed he didn’t believe her. Annoyance shot a flush up her neck but she didn’t want to spoil her mood with a fight. Instead, she set about rubbing down Sod and brushing the sweat out of his coat.

  ‘Mum wants you to come to Sydney this weekend,’ said Angus when he’d finished putting Sod’s tack away.

  She sighed. She hated leaving Poddy alone, even if only overnight. Though the horse had Venus for company, Brooke still fretted he’d get into trouble and she’d lose him, like she lost darling Oddy. Andrew and Chloe didn’t mind checking up on him for her, but it wasn’t the same. Poddy needed her close. She needed to be close. Yet she also had to keep her family off her back, and part of her plan to do that was to help out more with the racing stables. Unfortunately, her mother interpreted ‘helping out’ as spending more time sucking up to owners instead of the stable work she’d envisaged.

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Come on, you look good all frocked up.’

  Brooke ceased rubbing and leaned her forehead against Sod’s flank. She loved her mother, but Ariel’s concern for her and insistence that Brooke needed to move home was stretching their once solid relationship. Brooke still hadn’t forgiven Ariel’s betrayal. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

  ‘She gets me down, Gus.’

  Angus moved to her side to stroke her hair. ‘I know. But she means well.’

  ‘Then why is she trying to take me from what I love?’

  At the choke in Brooke’s voice, Angus gathered her up and hugged her tight against his raw-boned body. ‘Hey, stop worrying. It’ll work out, you’ll see.’ He let her go and, holding her at arm’s length, smiled. ‘You’re tough, remember? And if you don
’t start cheering up I’m going to dob you in to Nan. Then there’ll be trouble.’ He chucked her chin as she returned his smile. ‘There. That’s more like the Brooke we know and love.’

  The mood lighter, they finished cleaning Sod together, chatting about horses until they led the rugged-up animal to his paddock for an afternoon’s graze and relaxation. She followed Angus back to his car, looking around for Lachlan.

  ‘What have you done with the new manager?’

  ‘His name’s Lachie, Brooke, and he’s a good bloke.’ He held her gaze. ‘None of this is his fault, you need to remember that.’

  ‘I know.’ Though that didn’t stop it hurting.

  He opened the car door. ‘Promise me you’ll play nice.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m always nice.’

  ‘Want a bet?’

  ‘You sound like Andrew.’

  Angus grinned. ‘Wish I had the money to back it up like he does.’ His shifted his gaze to the left, past the machinery shed, and lifted his chin. ‘I think Sod’s found a new friend.’

  Lachlan stood at the gate to Sod’s paddock, Billy tucked under one arm, using his free hand to stroke Sod’s nose as the horse inspected the dog. Brooke held her breath. Sod was liable to take a chunk out of either of them. But the animal’s benign mood continued and after several sniffs Lachlan dropped Billy to the ground, where he sat obediently as Sod lowered his head and subjected him to another inspection. Deciding the dog was harmless, Sod wandered off to graze.

  With Billy bouncing through the long grass at the side of the lane like a black-and-white jack-in-the-box, Lachlan walked past them to the cottage, his palm held up in a farewell gesture. Brooke followed his progress. God, the man was built. Not to mention fit-looking with those long, strong legs, broad shoulders and flat stomach. She’d expected the manager to be older, perhaps someone in his forties with a wife and kids. Yet Lachlan appeared not much older than her. As for dependents, it appeared ankle-high Billy was it.

  ‘Good-looking bloke,’ Angus said slyly. ‘Just your type, too.’

  She swatted his arm. ‘Oh, shut up.’

  He laughed and gave her another hug. ‘Call me if you need anything.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Come down this Saturday. Galapagos Flyer’s racing in the Winter Stakes and it’s always a good day at Rosehill. And Dad would love to see you.’

  She watched the Land Cruiser until it reached the end of the drive and turned onto the road. Angus had been the lone dissenter on the family’s decision to oust her from Kingston Downs and employ a manager, but as he explained to her afterwards, their parents genuinely believed this was best for her, and with Mark adding his vote, there was little he could do. All he could offer was a lean shoulder to cry on and a promise to remain her advocate.

  She sighed and glanced at the house. Lachlan stood near his dark-red Hilux watching her. After a few seconds’ more cool appraisal, he shoved his big hands into his pockets and wandered over.

  ‘I’m heading in to town to the supermarket. Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No. I’m right, thanks.’ Now he was close, he seemed even bigger. His shoulders extended broad and square, and he must have stood close to two metres tall. Billy snuffled around his feet, looking like a rat in comparison.

  ‘Okay, but if you remember something, here’s my mobile number.’

  He held out a scrap of paper. She took it, staring at the number, uncomfortable. She wanted to hate him but it was hard when he came across as so straightforward. Angus was right, this wasn’t Lachlan’s fault.

  He shifted a little, as though wanting to say something, then changed his mind and with a nod walked off, Billy scampering behind.

  Shoving the number into her pocket and hunching her shoulders against the winter wind, she wandered past the dairy towards the one hill on the property. It was a rise near the road that overlooked Kingston Downs’ beautiful landscape where, over the years, numerous pets had been laid to rest surrounded by gums and spiky grevilleas, their graves marked by rocks. Only her grandparents’ dogs had crosses, but the nailed-on arms had long fallen away. Brooke still remembered the collies’ names – Athena and Zeus. Powerful names that evoked images of majesty and romance, and a style of name she’d followed since childhood with her horses.

  She wandered to the farthest corner of the hill, to the saddest and most recent grave. It’d been a week since her last visit to Oddy’s resting place and in her absence weeds had taken hold between the native sarsaparilla tubestock she’d planted in the fresh dirt. In a few months the sarsaparilla would flower vibrant purple and the grave would be massed in happy colour. A fitting memory to a beautiful animal whose life had ended so tragically. She sat next to the grave, hugging her knees, and surveyed the landscape, too despondent to bother plucking the weeds.

  She closed her eyes against the ache of Oddy’s death and immediately flicked them open as the image of him dying invaded her mind’s eye. She wished she could reach inside her head and scrub it clean of that night, and remember only the good times, the happy whickers he made whenever he saw her approach, and the sweet welcoming nudges that made her heart swell and want to hug him to bits. Instead, she was left with the weight of his agonising death. His harrowing, guttural cries as Sod and Poddy thrashed on top of him. His helpless flail as the sheared-off piece of aluminium dug deeper into him, slicing through arteries and veins, destroying his big loving heart.

  Tears built in her eyes. She blinked them away, hating their hot sting, wishing for something to assuage her terrible guilt, but she doubted anything with that power existed. Her culpability was something she’d have to live with and learn to accept.

  The same as she’d have to accept the new manager taking over her home.

  She dug her fingers in the soft ground at her side. ‘What am I going to do, Odd-job?’

  But only the rising wind breathed in her ear. She hugged her knees again and stared sadly towards the river. It wove like a vein through the landscape, nourishing the land, bringing life and prosperity as it chugged and gurgled its way to the sea. A constant in a world so bent on change.

  With only Sod in work and Lachlan taking over she would have little to fill her days. All the tasks that were once her responsibility now belonged to him. The crops and pastures, the maintenance of fences, irrigation equipment and machinery, the checking of troughs and the distribution of hay – all the things that had structured her life and provided her with quiet satisfaction were gone. Now all she had left were a half a dozen spelling racehorses, Sod and a couple of youngsters still on their winter break, parents blind to the hurt their benevolence caused, and a brother who viewed the world through the lines of a profit-and-loss statement.

  And looming over it all, blackening the horizon like a cloud-filled sky, hung a terrifying phobia with the potential to cost her everything she held dear.

  Five

  In the days after his arrival, Lachie sensed Brooke’s scrutiny wherever he ventured on Kingston Downs. If he was in the horse paddocks, checking troughs or fencing, she’d somehow conspire to ride by on either a horse or a quad bike. If he was amongst the lucerne, inspecting plant growth, soil moisture, or monitoring for weeds, disease and insects, he’d spy her leading Poddy and Venus to the edge of a nearby stand for a treat. Only on Saturday, when she disappeared to Sydney, did he feel at ease, but even then she’d left him explicit instructions on Poddy’s care and extracted a promise to call her if anything, no matter how minor, happened to the horse.

  He understood it – in her shoes he’d probably be the same – but her vigilance remained exasperating. He had no idea what he could do other than give her time to get used to the situation. Confrontation was out of the question, especially given her cold reaction to Billy’s misdemeanour on the first day they met, but they’d have to talk at some stage. There were aspects of the farm he needed to discuss. Yet he let it slide, promising himself each day he’d approach tomorrow.

  With winter only half gone, Lachie took adva
ntage of this relatively quiet period in the farm’s schedule to introduce himself around the district. Come spring he’d be flat out, once the irrigation and haymaking season commenced, and although he was confident in his ability to manage the property, nothing beat local knowledge and experience.

  The time he spent with the Department of Agriculture’s district agronomist proved invaluable, as did his chat with the Pitcorthie Rural Supplies’ agronomist and irrigation specialist. But he learnt the most from Kingston Downs’ two neighbours, and not all of it about the property. While both welcomed him warmly, neither could hide their disappointment at his arrival and their deep sympathy for Brooke.

  ‘She’s a good lass, that Brooke,’ said Greg Hitchcock, who ran the dairy farm on Kingston Downs’ northern side with his wife and three cherub-cheeked young children. ‘She’s worked hard to make that place what it is. Bloody terrible her family treating her like this. Lass deserves better after what happened.’

  The southern neighbour, an elderly widow named Nancy Burrows, who ran moppy-headed alpacas and a few sheep on her thirty-hectare lot, made her dismay clear over a pot of tea and delicious homemade ginger biscuits in the warm but rundown kitchen of her weatherboard cottage.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed when Lachie explained his role. ‘And after all the poor love’s suffered. She must be heartbroken. You know about the accident, of course.’

  ‘Only a bit.’

  Nancy shook her head and tutted. ‘Terrible thing. She swerved to miss one of Colin Grayson’s steers and hit a culvert. Flipped the goose-neck right over with her horses trapped inside. She managed to get two of them out but the other had been sliced right open and bled to death in front of her. They had to prise her off him, poor love. Didn’t say a thing, just stood there white-faced and covered in blood, holding out her hands and staring at them as if she didn’t know what they were for. Only came to life apparently when the vet arrived and wanted to destroy Poseidon. She always was potty about that animal.’ She frowned. ‘So if you’re there, where’s she living now?’