They heard the distinctive sound of two whips cracking. Near the marquee a young woman stood in the middle of a circle, enthralling the audience with her whip-cracking display. Trains clacking across railway tracks, windscreen wipers, whip passes to the front and back, were all on show with breathtaking speed and style. Bella knew it took hours and hours to get that good at cracking one whip, let alone two. She was mesmerised.
Will leaned across his son’s head and whispered to Bella, ‘I dare you to!’
Startled, Bella shot him a look, amazed that he could read her so well.
But Sophie couldn’t be held any longer. In her little brown leather elastic-sided boots, cowgirl shirt and tiny Wrangler jeans, she was having no more. Pushing her legs straight and twisting to the ground, Will was forced to put her down.
‘Daddy, I want to see the horseys now.’ A stomp of a size-six boot followed, and then a moment or two later, a very small, ‘Please?’
Bella and Will each took a hand of their gorgeous little girl. Auburn hair that twisted into corkscrew ‘kissing curls’ at the first touch of damp accompanied a flawless complexion and cornflower-blue eyes; a winning, toothy white smile touched by twin dimples on each side of her mouth – at three, Sophie was already breathtaking. There were those who said she resembled the late Patty O’Hara. Others said that apart from the colour of her hair, she was a dead ringer for her mother.
And then there was one-year-old Mattie, who was already showing signs of being a little devil. As he was hoisted up to his father’s hip, little legs dangling, he was spellbound by all the action on the plain. His dark brown eyes never missed a trick.
The genes worked, guys! Bella could still hear Patty sometimes. Every now and then, her friend’s voice rang clear and true in her head.
The loudspeakers announced it was time for the Stockman’s Challenge. The four of them wandered over to the strings of flags marking the start of the course. Will kneeled down and plonked Sophie on one knee and Mattie on the other.
‘Now, Sophie, you have to stay here, okay? On my lap, and then you’ll see all those horseys over there come thundering down straight in front of us.’
Sophie nodded seriously, her gaze immediately taken by the big horses lunging about the start area of the track to their left. Bella, standing behind them, was also watching the finest of bush riders prepare to start the race of the year. The horses lined up.
‘But, Daddy, they’re going the wrong way! Didn’t you say they were going past us? Daddy?’
At that moment the loudspeaker beside them squawked, ‘Go!’
The horses and their riders spun on the spot, turning about-face and into an immediate canter then gallop. They thundered down the track towards them. Sophie shrunk back into the safe folds of her father’s shirt. Mattie was oblivious to the danger, leaning as far out from his father’s arms as he could.
Momentarily distracted from the showy start of the race by Sophie’s piping voice, Bella gazed down at her family. She would have loved to be down there with Sophie, cuddling into the muscular, broad chest of that caring, wonderful man.
Will looked up at Bella and caught the end of her sigh into the damp mountain air. His pupils dilated, eyes darkened and he quietly groaned as he read her thoughts. He winked wickedly. ‘Hold that thought for later, cowgirl.’
Bella blushed, then grinned. ‘You’re on a promise.’
Then the horses were upon them.
‘Go, horseys!’ Sophie was in her element.
The crowd yelled with her, cheering on the riders and their horses as they raced at breakneck speed up the hill, then down across the flat, through the creek and up out of sight. Moments later they were back, down through the creek again, another run across the scrub-laden flat, up into the surrounding bush, dodging massive gum trees strewn in their path. Disappearing again around a bend. Minutes ticked by, the crowd rumbled with anticipation and then Sophie cried, ‘Daddy! Horseys again!’
The crowd went berserk. The horses thundered down the hill, slipping, sliding, riders hanging on for dear life. Scrambling to catch their feet as they hit the bottom, the horses and their riders hit the long straight for home. The moment of truth had arrived.
Who would be this year’s winner of the Stockmen’s Challenge?
As the horses flashed across the finish line, Isabella Vermaelon O’Hara knew she really didn’t care. She was just happy to be here. She watched her little daughter going crazy in her father’s arms.
‘Did you see that, Mummy? Can we go see the horseys?’ Sophie was twisting her way free of Will’s arms once more in her eagerness to watch her beloved horses parade past in a winner’s lap of honour.
Will took in the tears in his wife’s eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
Bella shook her head.
‘Hmm. Now why is that?’ Will queried as he put down a struggling Mattie and stood up.
Bella shook her head again.
Putting his comforting, warm arms around her, he said, ‘Come on, Hells Bells, you’re scaring me.’ He looked apprehensive.
Bella smiled at the man who breathed joy into every day of her life. He was her lover and her best mate. They had the world in front of them. A life filled with farming, laughing, loving.
‘I love you, Will. You are so good for me.’
‘I love you too, cowgirl, but why the tears?’
‘Just happy, I guess.’
‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it.’
Bella nodded and snuggled in close. Will could barely hear her as she spoke into his chest. ‘We wasted so many years. But we wouldn’t have been right for each other back then. Before Patty died – before Warren and Prowsy. I think we needed to take the long way so we could become the people we are now.’
Will stared off into the distance, thinking. ‘Yeah, probably.’
Bella’s voice suddenly became stronger. ‘You know what, though?’
‘What?’
‘Being back here, we’ve finally made it home.’
‘Yep, I think you’re right.’ Will lowered his head and kissed his wife with love and satisfaction.
‘You know, sometimes I hear her . . .’ Bella said sometime later. She cleared her throat. She’d never said this aloud.
‘You hear who? Sophie?’
‘No. Patty. I hear her talking in my mind.’
‘Yeah, I used to as well.’
Bella looked at Will in surprise.
‘I mean, you know realistically it’s just your imagination. Your own thoughts or conscience talking,’ explained Will, looking uncomfortable. ‘I don’t hear her anymore, but when I did, it was comforting to have her voice in my head, second-guessing my choices. She always was a bloody know-it-all.’
Bella smiled, remembering.
‘You sure you’re okay?’Will raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah. I know it’s my imagination, but still . . .’ She trailed off, looking across the plain towards the massive mountain ranges surrounding them. Her eyes were wistful as she took in the magnificence and splendour of the place.
Imagination, my arse! Pah, what do brothers know? You’re not going to be rid of me that easy, Hells Bells!
Bella smiled to herself. She didn’t want to be rid of Patty. Ever.
She’ll be driving six white horses when she comes . . . YEE HA!
Acknowledgements
A novel is a huge undertaking, particularly the first. I’d like to thank my agent, Sheila Drummond, for her work and support. Also, Random House Australia for making this dream a reality, particularly my publisher Beverley Cousins for her enthusiasm, guidance, expertise, and for loving Bella’s Run as much as I do, and Claire de Medici for her incisive editorial suggestions.
Appreciation also goes to Dr Jonathon Ruddle for his persistence and care, Michelle and Rob Bradshaw for the place of inspiration and Mark Coleman for his advice. Diana Hurley – your whip-cracking skills are legendary – thank you. And for a scene or two, I raise my glass to Kevin, Sallie and family a
nd the Bald Hills.
For their love and support over the years, a huge thank you goes to Sue and Wayne; Linda; Kaylene and Gary; Ross and Miriam; Kylie; Helen and Paul; Karen and Richard; Leonne and John; Debbi; Carol (my reader) and Barrie; Coral; Erlina; Petra and Russell. Gratitude also to Heather and Sue for all things country; Clare for Queensland; Michelle for remembering what I forget; and Kenielle for her superb horsemanship and practicality. You are all the best mates.
Appreciation to the lovely Sara Storer, Carmel Iudica and Donna for your assistance; Rebecca Faltyn for my page in the Gippsland Country Life; Chris Manning for your loving care; and our marvellous Helen for making sure the house stays in some sort of order.
While it was up to me to write the novel, it takes certain wonderful friends to help anchor you. Bella’s Run wouldn’t be here without Emma and Buck Williamson (and their ute!); Jenny and Dot Green; Sandra and Doug Dekkers; Carmel Kuizenga (and my beautiful Alice); the Killeen family - darling Andrea for sharing the rollercoaster ride, thanks girl; and the Beveridge family for Christmases at Nunniong; especially to Pam for her support and love, and Mal for answering so many questions, brumby hunting and taking us to ‘where no man has been before’.
I also offer thanks to the Victorian Writers Centre, in particular Sallie Muirden and Andrea Goldsmith for teaching me so much, and to the Little Lonsdale Writers Group – I am privileged to be among you. Credit to Kath Ledson – your passion abounds − and also to Sherree, Lisa and Jane: thank you for sharing the ride.
To my friend and critique partner Kate Rizzetti, your support in helping me get this novel over the line is much appreciated. Cheers to my long-time friend and road-trip partner Rachael Treasure, who encouraged me to ‘make and shake’ this dream alive. And to Fleur McDonald, who set down the challenge and held my hand while I completed it, I thank God for bringing you into my life. Credit also to Bronwyn Parry for her advice and Fiona Palmer for her enthusiasm.
For all things medical, thanks go to my talented sisters-in-law, Anne and Trish. To my other medico – you know who you are – I also offer my sincere appreciation. Any errors made are entirely mine.
Thanks to my great aunt, Margaret Caffrey, for her interest, friendship and love – you have taught me so much − and to my uncle, Graeme Osborn, for the serene peace of the homestead to write and for always being there.
To the rest of my family, immediate and extended, heartfelt gratitude for your love, support and for putting up with me. In particular, appreciation to Pat for helping with the children and to my sister, Kerry Wadey, for giving me feedback and advice when I needed it.
To my wonderful father, John, your love and support over the years has far exceeded anything a child should expect. Thanks, Dad, for everything – it’s incredible how such a simple word should be expected to convey so much.
To my beautiful children: Brent, one of my biggest supporters, thank you for being a great mate, for the drives in the ute (all thousands of miles of them) and the book covers, which helped make it so real. Callan – my farming inventor – your gentle love and hugs just thrum through my heart. And to Katie – my gorgeous little princess – you are the bright, shining light in all our lives.
To my darling husband, Hugh. You are the rock amid my ocean, the calm among the storm. I couldn’t have achieved this dream without your whole-hearted love and support. We’ve done this together. Thank you, hon.
Margareta Osborn is a fifth-generation farmer who has lived and worked on the land all her life. She also writes about it in the Gippsland Country Life magazine.
Home is the beautiful Macalister Valley of East Gippsland in Victoria, where, along with her husband and three children, she spends many hours in the mountains that form the backdrop for her novels.
Visit www.margaretaosborn.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Bella’s Run
9781864713145
Copyright © Margareta Osborn
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Lyrics from ‘Tumbleweeds’ by Sara Storer and Carmel Iudica © ABC Music Publishing administered by Mushroom Music Pty Ltd and Carmel Iudica. All print rights for Mushroom Music Pty Ltd administered in Australia and New Zealand by Sasha Music Publishing, a division of All Music Publishing & Distribution Pty Ltd. ACN 147 390 814. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Unauthorised reproduction is illegal.
A Bantam book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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www.randomhouse.com.au
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices
First published by Bantam in 2012
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Osborn, Margareta
Bella’s run [electronic resource] / Margareta Osborn
ISBN 978 1 86471 314 5 (ebook: epub)
A823.4
Cover photographs: cowgirl © Stockbyte/Getty Images; cowboy © Henry Arden/
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Cover design by Christabella Designs
Typeset and ebook production by Midland Typesetters, Australia
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title
Dedication
Contents
Prologue
PART ONE Ainsley Station Outback Central Queensland
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
PART TWO Eight years later
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright
More at Random House Australia
Bella's Run Page 32
