Brumby Mountain

by Karen Wood

  ‘Err,’ Luke stammered.

  ‘You know it’s illegal to keep dingo hybrids in New South Wales.’

  ‘Well, he’s actually a Mount Isa Sniffer,’ began Luke. ‘They’re a new breed from up north. Great on cold scents. He helped us find a big white stallion today.’ Jess caught Grace and Mrs Arnold rolling their eyes at each other.

  ‘But yeah, people often say they look a bit like dingos,’ he continued. ‘Must be the Asian bloodlines they mixed in, from Burma mostly. Big jungles up there, lots of exotic prey like lions and elephants and stuff.’

  ‘Never knew there were lions in Burma,’ said Barker, as he felt along Filth’s spine.

  ‘Oh yeah, there’s heaps of them these days,’ said Luke, ‘especially since all this global warming and stuff. Yep! These dogs are pretty special, hard to come by. Surprised the dog squad up in the Isa aren’t onto them yet.’

  Barker and Steve exchanged cynical glances.

  ‘Did we mention Luke was kicked by a brumby as well?’ said Mrs Arnold. ‘It got him in the head.’

  ‘There’ll be a litter of pups back home if you’re interested,’ added Grace.

  Mrs Arnold changed the subject. ‘There’s a lot of illegal brumby-running happening up in those mountains,’ she said. ‘I’ve got plenty of evidence if you’re interested in something factual.’

  ‘That’d be good,’ said Barker. He kept his attention on Filth. ‘He can still move his limbs. Might just be bad bruising, but I reckon we’d better get him to a vet for some X-rays.’

  ‘I s’pose I’ll meet you at the police station in the morning,’ said Mrs Arnold.

  ‘We don’t really have one of those around here,’ said Barker. ‘I usually just meet people at the pub.’

  ‘Hence the lawless frontier,’ said Mrs Arnold under her breath. ‘The pub it is, then.’

  Mrs Arnold helped them transfer Filth into the police wagon, using the controversial purple bedspread. ‘Just distract that lady from the hotel for a minute,’ she muttered to Jess.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a Mount Isa Shepherd,’ Jess overheard someone else say. ‘Poor thing was probably trying to protect some sheep. Be a shame to lose him. They’re quite rare, apparently.’

  With Filth loaded, Luke put an arm around Jess’s waist and smiled. ‘We got those brumby-runners good.’

  ‘We did,’ she grinned.

  ‘You go back to the pub and get warm,’ he said, giving her a squeeze. ‘I gotta take my Mount Isa Runner to the vet.’

  ‘Sniffer,’ she corrected him. ‘Or Mount Isa Shepherd, if you run into the postmaster.’

  He chuckled. She shook her head.

  ‘Reckon he could X-ray that arm for you while he’s at it?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she suddenly realised how cold and exhausted she was. She squeezed him back, wishing he could come and snuggle up with her in front of that huge fire at the pub. ‘I’ll rub down Dodger and Legsy, make sure they’re all right.’ She waved goodbye and turned back to the horses. ‘Come on, Grace.’

  14

  ‘STATE OF ORIGIN’S on tonight,’ said Steve loudly. ‘The Blues are gonna whip your Queenslander butts!’

  The pub was busy, with men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, beers in hand, as they watched the state-of-origin match on TV. Grace and Jess were once again ushered to the pool room, where an empty wood basket stood next to a cold hearth.

  ‘Let’s go outside and look for some firewood,’ said Grace. ‘We’ll freeze in here without a fire.’

  They stepped out into the chilly night. A huge fig tree blocked out the moon, casting darkness all around them. Walking hand-over-hand along a smooth branch, a possum peered down at them with round, golden eyes like dollar coins. Jess patted her empty pockets. ‘Sorry, little fella.’

  She pulled her collar up around her ears and shoved her hands into the warm depths of her jacket. ‘There are some gum trees out the back. Let’s look there.’

  Under the trees in the next paddock, the ground was thick with wet kindling and Jess began collecting twigs, snapping them against her knee and stacking them in piles. In the pub, voices rose and fell with the mood of the football. Glasses clinked, and every so often a burst of laughter erupted.

  The noise increased whenever the front doors were opened. Mrs Arnold’s voice rose over a chorus of footy fans. ‘GO, YOU GOOD THING!’

  As the girls bundled up their firewood, a set of headlights swept over the paddock and Jess heard a truck rumble into the carpark.

  ‘Ohhh,’ Grace breathed quietly. She dropped her bundle of sticks. ‘That’s the brumby-runners’ truck!’

  The truck rolled to a standstill by the carpark and the driver wound his window down. It was them all right. The truck had a big crate on the back and there was a horse inside it, struggling to keep its feet.

  ‘It’s a brumby,’ said Grace. She groaned. ‘Ohhh, the poor thing!’

  Inside the mesh cage, the horse screamed with the high, nervous pitch of a foal. ‘It’s a baby,’ said Jess.

  The truck didn’t stop, but rolled on very slowly. Jess realised the drivers were casing the carpark. She crouched down in the long grass.

  ‘I don’t think they’ve come to watch the footy, somehow,’ said Grace in a low, worried tone.

  ‘They might be looking for us,’ whispered Jess. ‘And your mum’s in the pub.’

  There was a sudden explosion of barking. A torch snapped on and the light panned across the paddock. Grace cursed and threw herself to the ground.

  Jess did the same and silently prayed the runners didn’t let their dogs off. Those things were bred to pull down and kill horses. She couldn’t imagine them having any trouble with a pair of scrawny teenagers. She looked at the flooded gum above her, searching for handholds, should she need them. A beam of light passed directly over her head.

  Some nearby sheep bleated and she could hear their tiny hooves galloping towards the river. Next to her Grace was so quiet, Jess wondered if she was still there.

  ‘Just sheep,’ said a gruff voice. The torch snapped off and the same voice growled at the dogs. ‘Max! Brutus! Siddown and shuddup!’

  Jess lay as still as the dead, immobilised by fear, until the truck rolled out of the carpark and headed up the road. Both she and Grace poked their heads above the thistles. The truck pulled into some trees further up the road and the engine was cut. Two doors slammed, one after the other.

  ‘They’re hiding the brumby while they go back to the pub,’ whispered Grace.

  ‘We have to warn your mum!’ Jess looked to the tree above. ‘Give me a boost. I’ll see if I can get phone coverage higher up!’

  Grace cupped her hands for Jess to step into. Jess hoisted herself up into the tree and climbed as high as she could. Grace followed. From the top, they could see the two runners heading for the pub.

  ‘Can you get a signal?’ whispered Grace.

  Jess opened her phone. ‘Yep.’ She immediately began thumbing a message to Mrs Arnold.

  Brumby runners about to walk into pub!

  Within seconds the phone buzzed in Jess’s hand.

  Where are you?

  Outside window. Up tree.

  Someone lifted the sash window.

  ‘Hoo-hooo!’ Grace did her best owl impersonation.

  Mrs Arnold waved briefly, slammed the window shut and vanished. At virtually the same moment, the runners disappeared into the building.

  Near the road, the foal cried again, and some other horses from surrounding farms whinnied back. Jess slipped down the main trunk of the tree.

  ‘Where are you going?’ hissed Grace.

  ‘To help that brumby,’ answered Jess. ‘Coming?’

  ‘What about Mum?’

  ‘She can look after herself,’ said Jess, taking off along the road.

  15

  ‘WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS?’ said Grace, panting as she tried to keep up with Jess’s strides.

  ‘They’ll be chained up,’ said Jess
. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Are you nuts? Those dogs will eat us.’

  ‘They’re only pups.’

  ‘Only pups?’ Grace squeaked. ‘Big pups!’

  Jess found a good, thick branch, then kept walking towards the truck. As they got closer the dogs started to bark. Jess had never heard a noise so loud or ferocious. She silently thanked God the two dogs weren’t fully grown, and mimicked their owner’s voice as best she could. ‘Max! Brutus! Siddown and shuddup!’

  The dogs backed off and, to Jess’s immense relief, lay down, snarling quietly. ‘Siddownnnn,’ Jess growled again. She raised the thick branch at them. Both dogs cowered.

  She wrenched open the driver’s side door. ‘The key is still in the ignition!’ She looked back at Grace, who was hanging back nervously. ‘You drive better than I do.’

  ‘Jess! I’m only fifteen. I can’t drive on a road.’

  ‘So we’ll go through the paddocks.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Back to the mountains,’ said Jess, sliding into the front of the truck. ‘Come on, quick!’ She groped around with her feet, trying to find the pedals. ‘Which one makes it go?’

  ‘You have to turn it on first, derrr.’ Grace appeared by the door. ‘Move over!’

  Jess slid over and let Grace slip in behind the wheel. Her friend sat on the edge of the seat and groped for the keys.

  ‘Can you reach the pedals?’

  ‘Nup.’ Grace slid half off the seat and kicked around with her feet.

  The keys jangled and the engine suddenly roared as Grace hit the accelerator too hard. Jess fumbled around on the bench seat, finding crushed empty beer cans and other unidentifiable things. She ran her hand over a hard cylindrical object – a torch. She flicked it on.

  ‘No wonder it stinks in here,’ she said. At her feet, bathed in torchlight, was something that looked like a dead rabbit. She pulled the front of her jumper up over her mouth and nose.

  ‘Throw it to the dogs. It might shut them up,’ said Grace.

  Jess found an old shirt and wrapped it around her hand, then picked the animal up by two stiff back legs. She tossed it to Max and Brutus. ‘There you go, boys,’ she said in her runner’s voice. ‘Don’t say I never give yez nuffin.’

  The sounds of growling and crunching of bones gave Jess the shivers and she wound the window up to shut out the noise as the two dogs fought over the putrid carcass.

  ‘Go to Matty’s Creek,’ she said. ‘We’ll try to get back to the mountains from there.’

  ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ asked Jess.

  ‘I can’t reach the clutch to change gears,’ said Grace, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. ‘We’re stuck in first gear. Besides, we can’t put the headlights on or someone will see us.’

  ‘This is so illegal,’ said Jess, suddenly having an attack of conscience.

  The truck suddenly lurched. ‘No, it’s not, because I’m not actually driving on the road. I’m on private property . . . sort of.’

  ‘We stole a truck!’

  ‘We’re just borrowing it. I don’t think it’s even registered; there’s no sticker.’ Grace peered into the rear-view mirror. ‘Besides, this was your idea, remember? How’s the brumby going?’

  Jess wasn’t sure how the lack of rego made things any more or less legal. She peered back through the cabin window. The small horse stood in the crate with its legs wide and head high. ‘It seems okay. Wonder what happened to its mum.’

  ‘Let’s hope she’s back in the mountains,’ said Grace, continuing into the darkness. Before long, the truck lurched towards the river crossing.

  ‘This is where Luke’s mum died,’ said Jess quietly as the truck rumbled onto the timber bridge. As the words left her mouth, the sound of screaming rushed down the channel of the river bed, carried by a low, moaning wind. The brumby foal answered with a piercing cry that caught Jess by the lungs and stopped her breathing. The torch went out. The truck jerked to a stop.

  ‘Damn, stalled it,’ said Grace, reaching for the keys. ‘Turn that torch back on.’

  ‘I’m trying,’ said Jess.

  Everything went silent for a few moments. Then a tiny breeze wafted in through the cabin and ran over Jess’s cheek, gently lifting the hair from around her ear and dropping it back down again. She gave the torch a shake and got a weak beam. She shivered.

  ‘How weird was that?’ she whispered.

  ‘Too weird,’ answered Grace in a nervous voice as she kicked the truck back into life.

  The sky had thickened with cloud, obscuring the moon. The night was dark and drizzly. ‘Where are the windscreen wipers?’ said Grace. She fiddled with a few levers. ‘Must be broken.’

  Grace continued driving slowly along the side of the road, her elbow and head hanging out the window, one hand on the wheel, until eventually they reached Matty’s Creek.

  ‘Now what are we going to do with this horse?’ asked Jess, as Grace stopped the truck at the forty-four-gallon drum by the front gate. All she could see of the kangaroos was their red eyes, gleaming in the darkness.

  ‘Put it in with Dodger and Legsy?’ suggested Grace.

  ‘It’s a brumby. It’ll just injure itself trying to get past the fences. We’ve got to get it back to the mountains.’ Jess sighed. ‘How will it find its mother? We haven’t even checked to see if it’s injured.’ She put her hand to her forehead and groaned. ‘Oh God, this was such a dumb idea.’ She got out and slammed the car door.

  The dogs snarled, low and menacing, and Jess growled back. ‘Siddown, bunny-breath!’

  She ran her torch over the brumby and it jumped and shied at the beams of light. ‘Easy now,’ she said, switching to a soft tone while running the torch up and down its trembling legs. It was a filly. Jess was relieved to find it had no injuries. It called loudly and desperately into the darkness. As Jess shone the torch over its face she saw Sapphire’s wild blue eyes staring back at her, icy-blue and hauntingly human. ‘We can’t just let her go. Dingos will get her.’

  Grace got out and unlatched the gate. ‘Let’s try driving the same way we went today. We can follow Mum’s tyre marks.’

  She turned on the headlights and the house lit up before them. The kangaroos fell away from the light in panic, bounding over the fence and into the hills in one big hopping mob. In the sheep yard, Dodger and Legsy nickered.

  Grace drove the truck towards the creek crossing and stopped. ‘Reckon we can get through?’ she asked, with her head out the window. ‘I reckon it’s risen since this arvo.’

  ‘It was up to the horses’ elbows today,’ answered Jess. ‘I don’t think this old beast is gonna get through it.’

  ‘Maybe we should just take her home,’ said Grace.

  ‘To Coachwood? Harry’s?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? Sapphire’s mares are there. They might adopt her.’

  Jess’s mind filled with the image of the big creamy stallion, so traumatised by the brumby-runners, pacing frantically about the yards at Harry’s. And his dead body being dragged down the laneway behind a tractor, never to return to his mountains again. ‘It would be better to leave her here,’ she said. ‘Anyway, there’s no room on the float. We have to get Dodger and Legsy home.’

  The brumby on the back cried out. A deep old nicker from somewhere up on the hillside answered.

  ‘Rambo!’ the girls chorused.

  Jess stuck her head out the window and called to him. ‘Hey, old man!’ She couled hear the old horse ambling slowly towards them, his legs brushing the long grass.

  Jess unclipped the dogs and dragged them, growling and snapping, to the horse float and locked them in the back, tipping half a bag of Filth and Fang’s dog biscuits in after them. Then she ran back to the truck and shone the torch over the stock crate, looking for the handles. She swung the doors open, then joined Grace in the front of the truck.

  Rambo waded through the shoulder-deep river and emerged at the same steady pace, the river dripping from his feathered leg
s, droplets of light rain rolling through his shaggy forelock and shimmering as it caught the lights of the truck.

  He whickered gently to the terrified filly and it bleated back in pathetically grateful whinnies.

  Rambo lifted his nose to the back of the truck, exchanged sniffs with the small horse, then turned and walked away. The brumby stood trembling at the mouth of the cage, ears pressed back against her skull. In a sudden burst of bravery, she leapt after the old black horse, landed on awkward legs and toppled over. She recovered quickly and gambolled to Rambo as though she knew him, leaping and rearing and paddling her legs at the old horse’s shoulders.

  Jess watched the pale shape of the filly dancing around Rambo’s larger black outline in the shafts of light. ‘Let’s call her Min Min,’ she said. ‘After the min min lights.’

  ‘Beautiful,’ smiled Grace.

  The two horses disappeared into the shadows. Jess heard their hooves knocking the rocks against each other, stone clacking against stone as they dislodged them. There was a splash, silence for a moment, then pebbles knocking on the other side of the river. Overhead, the trees murmured and swayed in the wind and the sound swallowed the two horses as they climbed up the mountain and into the night.

  ‘I think she’ll be okay now,’ said Grace.

  But Jess was already thinking of the next hurdle. ‘We’d better get this truck back.’

  ‘Can’t we just roll it into the river?’

  ‘It’s not deep enough,’ grinned Jess, although she quite liked the idea. ‘And we have to get back to the pub with those dumb dogs.’

  The carpark was full when they got back to the pub; a mix of utes, four-wheel drives and stock trucks.

  Grace and Jess returned the runners’ truck with Max and Brutus locked inside the stock crate. They clambered back up the flooded gum and sat side-by-side on a thick branch, like a pair of tawny owls, overlooking the pub.