by Cathryn Hein
‘Well, I suppose …’
‘Yeah …’
But neither moved, the awkward, hungry memory of their almost-kiss two days ago rippling between them. Instead, they focused on Billy, back at his master’s feet after inspecting a mouse hole. He flopped on his haunches and regarded them with one ear cocked, panting as he glanced from Brooke to Lachlan and back again. Seeking attention, Elly hung her head over Brooke’s shoulder and blew warm breath on her face, but neither Brooke nor Lachlan seemed capable of movement. Bored, Billy gave up his contemplation and sank to his belly, chin resting on his paws, eyes closing.
Finally, Lachlan slapped the rail, shaking them from their daze. ‘Right. I’d better get rolling.’ He indicated Elly. ‘Can I give you a leg up?’
‘Thanks.’ She slipped the piece of paper into the zippered pocket of her jodhpurs. Pulling the reins back over Elly’s head, she positioned herself by the saddle, hands on the pommel and one leg cocked.
‘Ready?’
She nodded and after a bounce let Lachlan raise her into the saddle. Carefully, he guided her foot into the stirrup then stood back, the sun catching highlights in his hair, handsome in his dark-blue twill work clothes and leather boots. Tall and strong against the backdrop of rich dark soil and verdant green, the Hunter River in the distance chugging its inexorable way to the sea, he caused Brooke’s heart to race once more with the idea that this was where he truly belonged. Not at Delamere, but here, on Kingston Downs, with her.
As she rode away, the piece of paper, the first step to reclaiming her life, burned in her pocket.
Later that afternoon, as the day turned shivery with the lowering sun, Brooke stood in Venus and Poddy’s paddock peering into her beloved horse’s nostrils. A thin stream of watery mucus leaked from Poddy’s nose. She stroked his cheek in sympathy then placed her hand under his rug to check for sweat. His coat felt slightly damp, but she’d have a better idea how severe his temperature was once she had him back in the barn.
‘Come on, my poor baby,’ she said, clipping the lead to his halter. ‘Let’s get you somewhere nice and warm.’
She led him up the lane, trying to keep her worry at bay, Venus following like a scruffy puppy. When Brooke had walked Poddy out that morning she’d thought he wasn’t as happy as usual, but horses have moods like people and he’d shown no symptoms of illness, so she hadn’t given it much thought. But the last nine hours had given the infection enough time to take hold and manifest itself in a runny nose and an elevated temperature.
The most important task was to quarantine him. Though she suspected a cold, it could be something worse, and she couldn’t afford to expose the other horses. Venus, as Poddy’s constant companion, would also require isolation, something that wouldn’t impress a pony enamoured with a life of all-day grazing.
At the barn she placed them in a stable each, before setting to check Poddy over properly. She held up his tail and inserted a thermometer into his rectum, apologising for the indignity as she waited for a reading. Poddy took it with his usual stoicism. She patted his rump as she extracted the thermometer and inspected it. A shade over thirty-nine degrees. Definitely a mild temperature.
‘Poor baby,’ she murmured, stroking his warm neck and kissing his cheek. ‘I know exactly how you feel, and it’s not much fun at all.’
After washing her hands and disinfecting the thermometer, she checked Venus’s temperature as well, but the pony remained as robust as ever. Satisfied, Brooke returned to Poddy’s stable to fuss over him, replacing his canvas rug with a thick doona-style one, damping down his evening feed to help prevent cough, hovering as he ate, watching every mouthful to ensure his appetite was still strong. Telling herself over and over that a vet was unnecessary. Poddy had a cold. That’s all. He’d be fine with warmth, rest and a bit of mollycoddling.
Unable to put off bringing in the other horses, she reluctantly scrubbed her hands again before heading back out into the chill of the falling evening. As she walked down the lane, the sky a magnificent swathe of peach and indigo, Lachlan appeared, striding back from the river, Billy bouncing alongside with a stick longer than his wriggly body clamped between his jaws.
‘Need a hand?’ he called as he neared.
‘Thanks.’ She passed him a lead rope. ‘If you could take care of Sod, that’d be great. Poddy has a cold and I needed to sort him out, so I’m running a bit late with them.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘I think so, but I’ll need to keep a close eye on him. I’d love it if you could keep a lookout too. If you see any of the other horses with runny noses or looking a bit off, let me know. They’ve all been vaccinated against equine influenza but —’ She shrugged, not wanting to think about the danger.
‘It’s hard not to feel nervous.’
‘Yes. I know it’s just a cold – they happen, especially this time of year – but I worry about him.’ She looked at her feet as guilt gripped her. ‘I don’t want him to ever be hurt again. He’s suffered enough.’
Lachlan draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ His arm dropped as Sod let out a welcoming whicker and trotted towards the gate.
‘He must really like you,’ said Brooke. ‘He’s never once done that with me.’
Ducking through the gate, Lachlan scrubbed the big dark horse’s face and affectionately tugged his ears. ‘I don’t know about liking me. I think he just wants more carrots.’
But Brooke knew better. From day one, Sod and Lachlan had formed a bond of trust and respect, the strength of which was proven when Sod allowed Lachlan to lead him into the float. Any other person and she might have experienced a stab of jealousy, but like everything with Lachlan, it only intensified her attraction.
‘So what will you do with Poddy?’ he asked as they walked Electra, Robert and Sod to the yards.
‘I’ll monitor both him and Venus overnight. Then, assuming there’s no increase in his temperature and he stays eating and looks happy, it’s just a matter of keeping him in for four or five days and making sure he stays warm.’
‘I’ll make up your bed in the cottage so you don’t have to trudge back and forth from the dairy.’
‘Thanks, but there’s no need. I’ll sleep in the barn.’
He eyeballed her with a mixture of worry and irritation. ‘Brooke, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s freezing at night. You only had the flu a couple of weeks ago. You’ll make yourself sick again. I can keep check on Poddy.’
‘No. Poddy’s my responsibility.’
Catching her tone, he stared ahead, jaw tight, mouth grim, but he didn’t argue any further. Just as well. No matter how Brooke felt about Lachlan, when it came to caring for Poddy, nothing would break her resolve.
With the horses in their yards and settled for the night, Brooke ducked to the dairy to make a sandwich, grab some magazines and a warm coat before returning to the stable. She rechecked both horses’ temperatures, relieved to find no change, and nestled into the corner of Poddy’s stable with a wool rug over her legs to eat her dinner and watch over him.
At ten, Lachlan arrived with a thermos filled with milky tea and a plastic container of Nancy’s jam drops, which Brooke accepted with gratitude. She expected him to leave. Instead, he settled beside her, back resting against the stable wall, legs drawn up and his hands dangling over his knees.
‘All okay?’
She nodded and took a sip of tea. ‘No change, which is good.’
‘Are you warm enough?’
She indicated the horse rug over her legs. ‘Snug as a bug in a rug, if a bit smelly.’ She took another sip of tea and nibbled on a biscuit, grateful for the sugar hit. Poddy stood opposite, one hind leg cocked and rested on his toe, eyes dozy. The air smelled of wood shavings, horse and Lachlan. All the good things.
‘I ran into Chloe when I ducked into town earlier.’
‘Oh, yes?’ As she normally did on a Thursday, Brooke had met with Chloe and Andrew las
t night in the pub but Chloe’s mood was subdued, a state Brooke and Andrew put down to the imminent loss of her crowning glory.
‘I asked her when shearing day was and she told me that she’s not going through with the bet.’
Brooke frowned. Chloe? Renege on a bet? That’d be a first. ‘Why not?’
‘No idea. Not good for business, maybe.’
‘This is Pitcorthie. No one would care. She’d probably get more people coming in just to look at her bald head.’ Brooke made a face, thinking on Chloe’s uncharacteristic behaviour. ‘Andrew will have something to say about that.’
Lachlan shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s the point.’
She glanced at him quizzically. Yes. Maybe that was the point. But why? She chewed on that for a moment. Perhaps they’d had an argument, which would explain Chloe’s quiet mood at the pub. But neither Chloe nor Andrew had mentioned one, and in the past, when any one of them had had an issue with the other, they’d always taken care to sort it out before it festered. Then again, maybe they hadn’t wanted to bother her with their problems. It wouldn’t be unlike them to be protective, especially after all that had happened.
Brooke returned her attention to Poddy. At least he was easy to understand. Unlike her friends.
‘You love him, don’t you?’ Lachlan asked.
‘More than anything.’ She took a sip of tea and leaned back, gazing at her darling horse. Poddy’s ears twitched as though he knew they were talking about him. ‘Dad gave him to me for my eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t believe my luck. For a green horse Poddy showed incredible talent. The first time I put him at a jump, his head and ears shot up like a periscope.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘Next thing I know he’s coiled like a giant spring and tugging on the reins and I hadn’t done a thing. It was a tiny cavaletti, barely half a metre high, but he couldn’t wait to get at it. Like Robert, but even bolder. I couldn’t believe it. It was if I’d been handed the keys to a supercar. I was thrilled and excited and scared all at the same time.’
He tilted his head with interest. ‘Why scared?’
‘I was afraid I’d ruin this perfect animal.’ She dropped her head and stared at her milky tea. ‘But I didn’t. Not until the accident, anyway.’
‘You have to stop blaming yourself,’ he said gently.
‘I know. It’s hard, though. I love him so much. Too much, probably.’
Lachlan let some shavings run through his fingers. ‘Do you think there’s such a thing as loving too much?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. With animals.’
‘But not with humans?’
She frowned at him over her mug. ‘Why?’
He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Are you having one of your profound moments?’
He laughed, a lovely deep sound she couldn’t get enough of. ‘Must be.’
They lapsed into quiet. Brooke sipped her tea and finished her biscuit, watching Poddy but aware of Lachlan’s presence, wishing he were closer. Wishing she could tangle her fingers in his and rest her head against his chest and listen to his heart beat.
There was so much about him she wanted to know. From his boyhood dreams, to his favourite colour, to whether he liked hot curries. But most of all, she wanted to nurture her fantasy that he was destined to stay at Kingston Downs. That Delamere and his other life didn’t exist. Because one day, when he was gone, that would be all she had left. Dreams, fantasies and heartache.
She took another sip of tea, wondering where to start, wary he’d fob her off if she probed a sore spot. But it was his sore spots that mattered; those were what she wanted to understand.
‘Why did you leave Delamere?’
‘The first or the second time?’
‘First, I guess.’
He paused and she could sense him gathering himself. ‘Dad and I used to fight all the time. Every day I’d look around me and see all these thriving properties. And then I’d look at ours and wonder why it couldn’t be like all the others, why Dad couldn’t see what I could. I’d point out articles in The Land and the local paper about new innovations, or the top sale prices others were getting, and Dad would just ignore me. I’d visit my mates on their farms, spend the whole time feeling jealous, then come home and take it out on Dad.
‘As I got older the fights grew worse. Then one day Dad did his nut and accused me of being ashamed of him.’ He looked at his hands, remorse tugging at his mouth. ‘I told him I was. I didn’t mean it, I was just frustrated.’ He looked at her. ‘I still regret that moment.’
‘You were young,’ said Brooke, feeling for him.
‘That’s no excuse.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘I left after that. Moved in with my gran. Quit school, took any job I could find. Spent the next four years working my arse off and getting nowhere, moaning how different things would be if I had the run of Delamere.’
‘So how did you end up at uni?’
‘That was Gran’s doing. She pointed out that for a person who spent so much time bitching about their uneducated father, I was doing a damn fine job of turning myself into him. Made me sit up and think. So I enrolled in TAFE, finished my HSC and applied for uni.’
‘What did your dad think?’
‘No idea. Dad and I weren’t on speaking terms. Mum was proud, though.’
Brooke ran her finger around the edge of her mug. ‘I can’t imagine you arguing with anyone. You’re always so careful about what you say.’
‘Not when I was younger, I wasn’t.’
‘So what changed you?’
‘Life.’ He paused. ‘People.’
Brooke flicked him a look, her attention caught by the way he’d spoken, as if he didn’t mean people, but one person in particular.
‘Life teaches you things.’ He shrugged and smiled wryly. ‘I just wish I’d learned faster. Then I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes.’
‘Ahh, but making mistakes is what makes us better people.’
‘Now who’s being profound?’
She smiled at him, thrilled with the small confidences he’d shared.
‘Are you going to Sydney tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘No way. Not with Poddy sick. What about you? Are you playing rugby?’
‘Yeah. We’re playing at Cassilis. Speaking of which, I should get some sleep.’ He rose, scraping shavings off his legs. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine. I have Poddy to keep me company.’
He glanced at the horse. ‘Not much of a conversationalist.’
‘He is. You just don’t speak horse.’
‘Maybe I should learn. Anyway, if you need anything, just bang on the cottage door.’
He gave Poddy a quick rub before sliding the stable door open and stepping through. Halfway through closing it, she called his name. He halted, head cocked.
She fiddled with a strap on the wool rug. ‘Do you like it here? The Valley, I mean.’
‘Yeah. I do. A lot. Sometimes …’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘What? Tell me. Please.’
He caught her gaze and held it. ‘It’s stupid, I know, but sometimes I wish I could stay.’
Fifteen
Lachie closed the gate to the new lucerne stand and leaned his arms on it, smiling with contentment. He couldn’t have timed it better. Light rain had fallen two days after sowing, followed by days mild enough to keep the soil temperature warm, but not hot enough to dry the seedbed. He rubbed his fingers together, dirty from when he’d dug them into the earth to check germination. Any day now the dark soil would develop a green tinge, as the seedlings poked their tiny first leaves above ground. Then the race would be on to beat the myriad insects hungry to feed on the juicy sweet plants, to keep the water up, and manage this and the other stands in the face of what looked to be a hectic haymaking season.
Hard work. Progress. Fatigue. Satisfaction. He couldn’t wait.
He glanced at his watch, glad to see he still had an hour before he had to leave for
rugby. The sun on his back was too pleasant to relinquish just yet and he wanted to think. Although that’s all he’d been doing for the past week. Working and thinking and going crazy.
All because of a girl he’d once labelled a spoilt, stuck-up brat.
Not once had Lachie ever considered making a life anywhere other than Delamere. From the moment he’d skidded his old ute down the drive at age eighteen, he swore he’d be back. He’d made the same promise the second time, when the shock of Tamsyn’s departure, flamed by his father’s comments, had erupted into fury and carried him away once again. But he hadn’t counted on Kingston Downs and Pitcorthie. And he hadn’t imagined anyone like Brooke.
A week had passed since the night in the stable. A week of him thinking about what he’d admitted. A week of dreams choked with the raw yearning that had broken over Brooke’s face when he’d revealed his secret wish to stay. A wish that grew stronger with each passing day.
Probably just as well they’d both been busy – Brooke tending Poddy and working her horses, him with the farm and a trip to Randwick to deliver Pompey Girl for Angus. Though he could have gone down and back in a day, Lachie had stayed overnight in Sydney, catching up with mates, hoping a bit of time away from Kingston Downs would give him perspective. But every moment away only reinforced his feelings, how much he missed the Valley. How desperately he missed Brooke.
‘What do you reckon, Billyboy?’ he said, crouching down to scratch the terrier’s ears. ‘Should we stick around?’ Billy tilted his head back and forth, as though considering the idea, before releasing a sharp yap. ‘Yeah, you’d love to stay, wouldn’t you? You love your hoof bits and mice and all that nice shit to roll in. Good life for dogs at Kingston Downs.’
Easy. Except yesterday Brooke had bounced up to him, cheeks flushed, clear brown eyes wide, to announce she’d booked an appointment with the counsellor. The news made him proud and sad at the same time. She’d taken the first step to recovery, and with it, set the clock on his tenure ticking.
