by Janet Gover
She had never gone back.
Carrie reached out to turn the key in her car’s ignition. She didn’t belong here. The others had asked her to join because they needed someone with her horse handling skills — the skills that had made her a top jockey. But she wasn’t a jockey any more. She couldn’t work with horses any more. Just being around one was enough to set her hands shaking. She thought back to the day she met Justin. Having his gelding so close had almost paralysed her with fear. That gelding was well bred and trained and no doubt far gentler than any racehorse she’d ever ridden. But even so, she had almost fallen apart. She was not a horsewoman any more. She wasn’t anything.
‘Hi, Carrie, are you just getting here too?’ The voice at her open window froze her hand half a second before she could turn the key to start her engine and back away.
Justin opened her car door, and stepped back to allow her out. He smiled down at her with those sparkling green eyes, looking as if he were genuinely pleased to see her. If he knew what was in her heart, he wouldn’t look at her like that. He’d turn away in disgust. Or worse, he’d laugh at her like the stable boys had.
It was too late now for her to back out. To simply drive away and find some excuse. She pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out from behind the wheel.
‘Hi, Justin,’ she said.
‘This is just great,’ he said as they walked up the steps together. ‘Adam said Jack North was going to be here this evening too. You know Jack, don’t you?’ He barely waited for her nod. ‘He does the maintenance on the air ambulance. And at the mine. He can turn his hand to anything.’
Justin paused on the veranda. He turned to look down at Carrie.
‘You know, Carrie. I am actually starting to believe this is real. For such a long time I’ve wanted to re-invigorate the bloodlines Dad worked so hard to establish. Now, there’s a chance to do that. And with the very same horse that Dad had centred his plans around! That’s almost too much to comprehend. But it is real. And that’s all thanks to you.’
His excitement shone out him like sun after a rainstorm. He was practically quivering with energy and eagerness to get started. Walking beside him, Carrie felt like the worst kind of cheat and coward.
‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ she said, stepping forward into the doorway of the pub. ‘You are just so lucky Mariah’s colt survived.’
‘Hello, Carrie. And Justin. How nice.’ Trish Warren grinned in a knowing way as she walked past holding two huge plates of food. ‘Nice to see the two of you here … together.’
Carrie felt her face begin to redden. She opened her mouth to say something, just as quickly closed it again. She hadn’t lived in Coorah Creek long, but she knew Trish Warren’s reputation already. She was a kind soul, everyone said, but there was no keeping a secret from Trish. Not that Carrie had a secret to keep. Well, not one that involved Justin. They were just friends. Not even friends, really. They’d only just met. And it certainly wasn’t going any further. Not when he discovered that the jockey he’d admired was now … nothing.
‘The others are in the lounge,’ Trish said as she turned back towards the kitchen, having delivered her load to two men sitting at the bar. ‘Now that you’re here, tell them I’ll be over in a few minutes to see what they want to eat.’
‘Carrie, can I get you a drink?’ Justin asked.
She hesitated, and then decided a drink was just a drink. Especially if it wasn’t really a drink. ‘Just some coke, thanks,’ she said.
‘Right. Do you want to join the others and I’ll be right over.’ Justin turned to the gleaming wooden bar, greeting one or two of the other patrons as he did.
Carrie stood for a moment, watching the ease with which Justin chatted to the men he knew. They seemed pleased to see him, shaking his hand and sharing a few words. He was so much at ease with himself. She used to be like that. She turned towards the lounge.
‘Hey, Carrie,’ Quinn called.
They were clustered around a big table. Quinn and Dan were both there, as was Jack and a tall tanned man she had never met before.
‘Do you two know each other?’ Jack asked as Carrie sat down.
She shook her head.
‘This is Chris Powell. He’s the manager at the Goongalla Mine. He’s going to help us out with building some stockyards. Chris, this is Carrie Bryant. She’s our horse handler.’
Chris held out his hand. Carrie took it, biting back the urge to shout that she wasn’t their horse handler. She was nothing more than a cheat for taking a place at this table. She wasn’t even sure why she was there.
She looked up and saw Justin heading their way, glasses in his hands and a broad smile on his face. He dropped on to the seat next to her and slid over her glass of coke.
‘I was just telling Carrie that Chris is going to help out with the building work,’ Dan told Justin.
‘I can give you some timber and rails. I guess you’ll want a couple of wide swinging gates. I can’t help with those, I’m afraid. But if you can source them somewhere, I’ll take them on my trucks with the lumber.’
‘I can talk to my boss at the feed store,’ Carrie said tentatively. ‘We’ve got swinging gates. I might be able to convince him to lend us a couple.’
‘Great.’ She felt absurdly pleased when Justin smiled at her like that. It made her feel almost like she belonged.
‘Once we have them penned in that gorge, I’ll need to spend a few days settling them before I try to get them home. Obviously the stallion is my priority, but I can take them all unless anyone else wants any of them.’
‘What will you do with them?’ Dan asked. ‘I don’t know much about horses, but I guess some of them can’t be much use to you.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Justin said. ‘I can probably train most of them and sell them on. I can promise you that none of them will be destroyed.’
‘That’s good enough for me.’
Carrie saw the look the two men exchanged. There was agreement. Respect. Perhaps the beginnings of friendship.
Quinn didn’t say much during the discussions that followed. The others talked about rails and wire, about transporting feed and water. It seemed to her that re-homing the brumbies was a pretty complex business. She hadn’t thought past catching them. But then they had to be fed and watered until they had become used to their captivity. Justin was giving the brumbies a home, but getting them to that new home would not be easy. Quinn heard talk about trucks and loading ramps. About mustering and driving the horses cross-country like cattle. Each suggestion seemed to raise another wave of problems. Quinn decided she should take a back seat and let those who knew what they were about take over.
The people of Coorah Creek all seemed to want to help. Several men dropped by to offer help with various parts of the enterprise. The teacher from the school joined them briefly talking about getting her kids involved in a project about brumbies. At one point an older man joined in the conversation. He was introduced to Quinn as the mayor. He was obviously a little on the wrong side of sober as he shook her hand and gushed his approval for the project.
Quinn used his arrival as a cloak to slip away in the general direction of the bathrooms. When she was sure no one was paying her any attention, she darted back up the stairs and collected her camera from her room. From the darkened stairway, she snapped a few shots of the meeting in progress. The story she was going to photograph wasn’t just about the horses. It was about these people. This community.
She caught a shot of Jack North sketching some plan on the table top with his finger and the moisture from a cold glass of beer. The water would dry and the drawing would fade, but the idea wouldn’t. Nor would the hope she saw on Justin’s face every time he mentioned the stallion. She twisted her zoom ring and shot a quick close-up of Dan’s face. She could see the lines etched around his eyes. And the crease in his forehead which suggested he frowned far too much. And his eyes. The brilliant blue that went so well with his shock of hair the same
dark red as the desert sand. She clicked her shutter once more, suddenly aware that Dan was staring back at her through the lens.
She lowered the camera as Dan rose from the table to join her.
‘I think we are go,’ he said softly. ‘We seem to have everything we need. And if we don’t, I have a feeling Justin and the others will find it. Thank you.’
Quinn frowned, very aware of how close Dan was standing to her. The two of them, set apart from the community and the plan it was hatching. ‘There’s nothing to thank me for.’
‘You are the one who got this started,’ Dan said. ‘If you hadn’t … I might have …’ His voice trailed off and Quinn could sense the pain in him.
‘No. I don’t think you would. You would have thought of something.’
His eyes searched her face for a few tense moments. He didn’t smile. ‘I’m not so sure. I was in the military. We were taught to obey orders – not to think. Even then, it’s not always as clear-cut as it seems.’
And he was gone, slipping out the door before she could ask what he meant.
Chapter Twelve
Quinn was amazed at how quickly it all came together. It seemed that when the people of Coorah Creek decided to do something, everyone joined in.
The morning after the meeting she headed down to get some breakfast, only to find the pub kitchen was already a hub of activity. Trish was pulling food from her huge freezer. Ellen was packing it into several ice-filled cool boxes.
‘The eskies should keep the food good for a couple of days,’ Ellen said. ‘Then we can restock for you.’
Quinn raised her eyebrows. The discussion the night before had included talk about setting up a camp at the national park. It was easier than spending hours each day travelling to and from town. Justin’s place was a little closer, but it would still be more convenient to stay in the park. It would give them more time to work, and also accustom the brumbies to their presence. After the others had left, as she sat up knitting, Quinn had decided to move out to the park today to try to photograph the brumbies before they were moved. But no one knew that yet. She had imagined she would have a day or two of solitude before the others joined her. Apparently not.
‘I’ve put in some frozen steaks,’ Trish told her. ‘You probably should eat them tonight. The dishes of frozen stew will be slower to defrost. So that should do you for the second night. I talked to Ken at the store and he’s just dropped by with some stuff. It’s in the bar. There’s a box of canned food. Bread, too. Tea, coffee and sugar. And some cooking implements.’
‘That’s a lot of food,’ Quinn said.
‘Dan and Justin will be working hard. They’ll need a good meal at night,’ Trish declared. ‘So will you. And there’ll be others too. Carrie will be driving out later with a load from the feed store. Jack and Chris Powell will be bringing timber and tools from the mine. The bushfire brigade is lending you a water tanker for the horses. Your own water …’
Quinn blinked, wondering when all this had been organised. She’d once photographed a military exercise. This was starting to sound very similar. Her little camp was not going to be as small or as private as she had anticipated.
‘… will be coming back and forth the most. So he can fetch anything else you need.’ Trish stopped talking and looked at her. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’ Quinn wasn’t sure exactly what she’d agreed to, but she was sure that if Trish Warren was doing the organising, it would be exactly what was needed.
‘Excellent.’ The older woman almost glowed with satisfaction. ‘I’ll fix you some breakfast.’
‘Just coffee and toast will be fine.’
‘Rubbish,’ came the declaration from the depths of the fridge. ‘Who knows how long you’ll be camped out there. This may be your last good meal for a while.’ Trish emerged loaded down with bacon, eggs and sausages which she set down by the big stove.
Quinn thought about mentioning that she was a very capable camp cook, and had managed not to starve on many other trips to places even more remote than the national park. Then she caught Ellen’s eye. The pregnant woman was trying hard not to grin as she placed a few more items into a box filled with enough food to feed a small army on bivouac.
Quinn made to get to her feet. There was no way she was going to let a pregnant woman lift that heavy box. But Trish was one step ahead of her.
‘Don’t you lift that box, Ellen,’ Trish said without turning away from the stove. ‘Leave it and Syd can carry it out to Quinn’s car later.’
Eyes in the back of her head, Ellen mouthed at Quinn.
Just then the door burst open and two small children entered at a run.
‘Mum, look! Jack got me a new comic. It’s Donald Duck!’ The little boy held his prize aloft, a huge smile splitting his face.
‘Quinn, this is Harry and Bethany,’ Ellen said as she ruffled the girl’s blonde hair. ‘Kids, this is Quinn.’
Two pairs of huge blue eyes looked up at her. She hadn’t seen eyes that blue since … well, for a very long time.
‘Hello.’ Bethany looked up at her from under her fringe and smiled such a sweet, trusting smile. A part of Quinn wanted to wrap her arms around the little girl and hold her. The other half wanted to run from the room so fast her memories wouldn’t catch her.
‘Hello, Bethany,’ she said quietly.
‘I’ve got to get this pair to school,’ Ellen said. ‘So I’m off now. Let me know if you need anything else, Trish.’
‘I will,’ Trish replied from the direction of the stove, where her sizzling pan was starting to exude lovely cooking smells.
‘And Quinn, good luck. I really hope this works. I would hate to see those brumbies killed.’
Quinn had barely finished the huge cooked breakfast when the door opened and another familiar figure appeared.
‘Glad I caught you before you left,’ the doctor said as he came into the kitchen.
‘Coffee, Adam?’ Trish asked, already reaching for the electric kettle.
‘No, thanks. I can’t stay,’ Adam answered. ‘I just wanted to give this to Quinn.’ He dropped a bulging rucksack on the table and pulled up a chair.
‘And this is …?’ Quinn prodded it gently.
‘First aid kit. With the sort of work you’ll be doing, there are bound to be a few cuts and bruises. I can’t come out. I have to stay close to base. And we don’t have a nurse.’ The doctor’s voice softened as he said those words, and Quinn felt an aura of sadness about him. Trish laid a hand briefly on his shoulder as she moved past him to start clearing away the breakfast things. ‘Anyway, I guess you’ll have to tend your own injuries, unless it’s something serious of course.’
‘I hope there won’t be any need for your services,’ Quinn said.
‘Me too.’ Adam got back to his feet, smiling. ‘There’s a phone at the ranger station. Call me if anything serious happens.’ He raised a hand in farewell as he walked out the door.
‘He’s the only doctor in town?’ Quinn asked Trish.
Trish nodded, sadness reflected on her face too. ‘We used to have a nurse. A medical nun. Sister Luke. She and Adam were very close. But she passed away a few months ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Although the response was automatic, Quinn could feel the very real affection Trish had obviously held for the woman. She was beginning to think that Coorah Creek was a family as much as it was a town.
‘We did get a new nurse,’ Trish said. ‘Not a nun this time, an ordinary nurse. She was a nice young thing but she didn’t like it out here. Too remote. It doesn’t suit everyone. She left after a few weeks. The second one did too. I don’t imagine Adam is proving an easy boss, and Sister Luke left some pretty big shoes to fill.’
Trish dashed a hand across her eyes and resumed her customary demeanour. ‘If you want to get your things together after breakfast, I’ll get Syd to help you load this stuff in your truck.’
Quinn knew better than to say she didn’t need
any help. ‘I’ll get all my things out of the room,’ she said instead. ‘And settle my bill.’
‘Leave anything you want in the room,’ Trish said. ‘It’s not like we’ll need it. This is not a busy time of year. And as for the bill, don’t you worry about that. There are more ways to pay than with money. You’re already in credit with us.’
Quinn removed all her things from the hotel room anyway. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the Warrens, but she didn’t want to be beholden to them. To anyone. Her whole life fitted into the back of the Humvee and that was where she liked to keep it. Once it was all carefully stowed, there was even enough room for the boxes of food, first aid kit and cookware. Quinn had her own camping cookware, but she didn’t want to disappoint Trish by refusing her offer. And besides, she only had enough to cook for one, and it was becoming obvious she would not be alone.
Once everything was on board, Quinn backed the Hummer out of the parking place and turned it in the direction of the Tyangi Crossing Park.
Standing just inside the door of the feed store, Carrie watched the gold Humvee drive past. Its brilliant metallic paint was already starting to dim under a layer of dust. The Hummer was a lot more showy than the farm vehicles and sensible four-wheel-drive utes that were most often seen in town. The car suited the owner, Carrie thought. Quinn was everything she herself was not. Strong and competent. Confident. Happy. All the things she used to be, but had lost.
‘You’re nearly set, Carrie,’ her boss, Paul Summers, called from the back of the store.
Carrie walked through the building to the loading bay. Paul was tying down a load of hay bales on the flat bed of the store’s truck. There was enough there to keep the brumbies fed for at least a week.
‘That Trish Warren is hard to say no to,’ Paul said as she approached. ‘She wanted me to give you time off with pay – but I can’t do that.’ He tugged the last knot tight and turned to face Carrie. ‘Sorry, Carrie, but I really can’t. You know how tight things are here.’
