by Janet Gover
That’s when Carrie moved for the first time. She slowly raised one hand and placed it on the stallion’s gleaming muscular neck. She ran her hand down the firm ridge of muscle, stroking the gleaming hide that had never before known the touch of human hand.
‘What is she … some kind of horse whisperer?’ Quinn asked as she took another photo.
‘She’s just Carrie,’ Justin said, not caring if Dan and Quinn heard the awe and love in his voice.
Inside the yard Carrie was rubbing her hand down the stallion’s face. The big horse was quivering with tension as he lowered his head to accept her hand.
‘Is that dangerous?’ Beside him Dan voiced the fears that Justin was holding so tight inside.
‘Yes.’
Carrie was talking to the horse. They could hear the soft murmur of her voice, but not the words. The stallion’s ears twitched as he listened to her. She pulled a few twigs from his matted mane and straightened the thick forelock hanging between his eyes.
‘Is it because he’s not really a brumby?’ Quinn asked. ‘Is it some kind of race memory? Generations of domestication coming to the fore to remind him that humans are his friends?’
‘Maybe,’ Justin said. ‘Or maybe it’s just Carrie’s special gift.’
The three stood silent for a few more moments, until Carrie dropped her hand from the horse’s coat. The stallion tossed his head and snorted, but it wasn’t the angry sound they had heard before. One of the mares stepped closer to him, and he turned his head, nipping her on the rump as she moved past. She flicked a hind leg at him, but the kick passed harmlessly between him and Carrie. The spell was broken. The stallion shied, and leaped away. Carrie began moving slowly backwards, her eyes never leaving him as she slid through the gate. Justin was already there. As he dropped the latch behind her, Justin let out the deep breath he had not even known he was holding. Carrie too seemed to visibly relax.
‘Wow, he’s really something,’ Carrie said, her voice tinged with awe.
Justin shook his head, quite unable to put into words the immense feeling that was swelling up through him. His fear for Carrie’s safety had given way to anger that she should take such a risk. At the same time, he was so happy for her and proud of her. And over all other emotions lay a fierce love.
He took Carrie by the shoulders, and stared down into her shining eyes. He wanted to yell at her. To tell her never to do that again. To remind her that wild horses were dangerous and she could have been hurt again. But she knew all that. Those were not the words she needed to hear from him.
Instead he kissed her, long and hard. His heart sang as she kissed him back with equal passion.
‘That was amazing,’ he said at last in a voice that was not quite his own. ‘You had him eating out of your hand.’
‘Not quite,’ Carrie’s voice was bubbling over with joy. ‘But I don’t think it will be long.’
The lump in Justin’s throat was the size of the red cliffs around them. He pulled Carrie to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, as if he would never let her go. Because he wouldn’t.
The silence that followed was finally broken by the sound of a car engine. Of more than one engine. Dan looked towards the sound and caught a glimpse of a dust cloud.
‘Perfect timing,’ said Justin as he released Carrie. ‘That would be the cavalry.’
Calvary? In his mind, Dan saw a convoy of military vehicles, with uniformed and disciplined men waiting to leap into action. The convoy that appeared down the rough track was nothing like that.
The lead vehicle was a truck with some sort of small earthmover loaded onto its flat bed. Another small truck followed behind, loaded down with timber. Jack North was there with his ute, the tray back full of tools. One of the two cars that followed held four men dressed in working gear. When the last car of the convoy pulled up, Trish Warren hopped out.
Jack parked his car and ambled over to shake Justin’s hand. ‘I hear you need to build a loading ramp. Could you use a hand?’
‘I sure could,’ Justin replied. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Have you ever known me to take no for an answer,’ Trish said as she approached. ‘Now, show me these brumbies I’ve heard so much about.’
Dan hung back as the others walked over to look at the horses. There was much back-slapping and congratulations for Justin. One of the men recognised his own brand on a mare in the herd, a cause for another round of congratulations. Dan knew that kind of sharing. It was the same brotherhood he had been gifted with in his unit. The willingness to help one another. To share the good times and the bad.
‘I always wanted a Fraser horse,’ the owner of the mare chortled. ‘And now I have Fraser bloodlines for free in that colt of hers.’
‘Not quite for free,’ Justin pointed out. ‘First we have to get these horses out of the park. So let’s get to it.’
The group of townsfolk lacked the discipline and training of his old army unit, but when they set their minds to something, it got done. Justin outlined his need for a safe and solid earthen ramp, with strong high rails at the sides, growing ever narrower. The brumbies would be pushed up this race into the back of a truck.
‘It’s how we handle cattle, rather than horses,’ Justin said. ‘But we don’t have time to do it any other way. The horses have to be moved tomorrow.’
The men responded quickly. Rails and shovels appeared. Pliers and fencing wire were produced. The sound of the small digger biting into the earth startled the brumbies, but after a few minutes panic, they came to accept it wasn’t about to hurt them.
Dan winced when the digger’s blade bit into the earth for the first time.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack said as he walked past, a timber rail balanced on his shoulder, ‘we’ll put it back the way it was after the brumbies are gone. No one will ever know.’
A short distance from the construction site, Trish Warren gathered Quinn and Carrie under her wing, and set about providing food and water for the workers. They soon had a billy boiling over the fire pit, and another of Trish’s endless stews bubbling in a camp oven. The smell of cooking damper wafted down the gorge.
By the time they stopped to eat, the loading ramp was taking shape. As the men ate, they discussed how many trucks they would need the next day to load the whole mob of brumbies. They agreed that all the horses would be taken initially to Justin’s property. After that, owners could claim the escapees. Justin freely offered any of the workers their choice of the yearlings as a reward for their help.
Dan sat with them, enjoying the camaraderie. He had always kept himself a little apart from the town. He had felt a stranger who didn’t really belong. He could see now that was of his own making. The townsfolk accepted him. They always had. He had friends among them now.
While Carrie divided her time between work at the stockyard, and Trish’s camp kitchen, Quinn remained a little aloof. Dan knew that was partly because she was once more wearing her photographer’s role. Capturing the event, rather than being a part of it. But he had a suspicion there was another reason too. A reason that sent a wave of sadness deep into his heart.
‘Can I have two coffees, please,’ he asked Trish.
Trish poured the steaming dark liquid into two enamel mugs and cast a meaningful glace to where Quinn was seated part of the way up the side of the gully.
‘How do you want them?’
‘Both black, please.’
Dan carried the mugs over to Quinn and the two of them sat on a boulder, drinking in silence.
Even when the mugs were empty, neither of them showed any desire to move. Quinn held the camera in her lap, her hands finally still.
After a long moment, Dan spoke. ‘It looks like they’ll be gone tomorrow. Then all we have to do is pull this lot down and it’s over.’
‘You’ve done a remarkable thing,’ Quinn said softly.
‘No. I haven’t … we all have.’ Dan paused for a few seconds. ‘I guess you’ll be going to Jus
tin’s place to get some shots when the brumbies finally reach their new home.’
Quinn nodded.
‘That will be the end of your story, won’t it? You’ll leave then.’
Dan’s heart seemed to stop beating as he waited for Quinn’s answer. He knew what it was going to be, but that did not ease the knife thrust of pain he felt.
She turned towards him and Dan saw sadness there in her eyes. ‘Yes, it is time I moved on.’
He’d known it was coming, of course. But somewhere deep inside had been the hope that she might stay. Twice now Quinn had given him gifts that had lifted him out of his despair. A third time was too much to ask. He would have to give to her the only thing he could – he would have to let her go.
The silence hung between then. Then Quinn got to her feet. ‘I’m not needed here. I think I’m going to go and take some general shots of the park while I still have the time.’
Dan collected their mugs. ‘If you need to use the phone or the Internet, the back door of my house is open.’
He walked away, back down to the camp to hand the mugs back to Trish. She raised a questioning eyebrow as she watched Quinn walk away towards her Hummer.
Dan couldn’t face her questions. He quickly strode back to join Justin unloading more timber rails from a truck.
Justin paused in his work and together they watched the Hummer drive away. ‘Look, Dan, I know it’s none of my business but are you just going to let her walk away?’
He was right, of course. Dan knew that. But … ‘I can hardly force her to stay.’
‘Mate, I know if it was Carrie, I wouldn’t let her go quite so easily.’
Easily? It wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to be unbearably hard to let her go. But he hadn’t given up hope. Not yet. He had one chance – one night – to change her mind.
Chapter Thirty-One
She had lied to Dan. For the first time. She hadn’t really been taking additional photos in the park. The photos of the brumbies and their capture were done. She had no real need to take photographs at Justin’s property. There was no reason for her to stay. Except for her desire to watch as Carrie and Justin took the brumbies home. Except for her desire to spend one more night with Dan.
It was cruel of her. She knew that. She should walk away now and not give Dan the false hope that there could be more than one more night for them. But she wanted that night so much. It was more than she could do to leave. Somewhere in the night, she would find the courage to tell Dan what he needed to know. So that he would let her go. So that he would be glad to let her go.
And then she would turn towards … not home. She had no home. There was only her work and the Hummer … and that small tissue wrapped parcel stored so carefully inside it.
So she had spent the day in Dan’s small home. She had borrowed his Internet, his electricity and his shower. She had to admit it felt good to have a nice hot shower. It was a strangely intimate thing, to borrow another person’s shower when they were not around. Dan used a plain, unscented soap. But she had known that. When she lay with her head on his shoulder, she breathed deeply of a scent that was all Dan. She’d borrowed some of his shampoo too. She had found clean towels neatly stacked in a bathroom cupboard. For a man, he was extremely tidy. She guessed that was a hangover from his life in the military.
After showering she sat on Dan’s sofa with her mug of coffee while she checked her e-mails. There were several from her agent, suggesting possible assignments when she returned to Brisbane. There was also one from her mother, wanting to know how she was, and when she would be coming back. She ignored them as she flicked through her book – the one Dan had bought all those months ago back in Sydney. The one that had led him to Tyangi Crossing National Park … and eventually to her.
She had promised him she would sign the book. She found a pen and sat there, with her hand poised over the page, wondering what to write. She had done book signings a dozen times before. Always she had scribbled an easy phrase on the page. I hope you enjoy the book. And she had always been sincere in that hope. But what should she write for Dan? She sincerely hoped he would be happy when she left. That the ghosts that haunted him would fade in time. That he found peace and happiness. But all of those thoughts simply highlighted one thing – she would not be with him.
She got up and took her empty cup into the kitchen. The business of boiling the kettle gave her hands something to do. While she waited she stood in the doorway and stared across the room at the book. Finally, in a sudden quick motion, she crossed the room again and picked up her pen. She simply wrote two words – Rachel Quinn – and firmly closed the book.
She didn’t bother going back for the coffee she really didn’t want. Instead, she sat back against the softness of the sofa. She felt so very comfortable in Dan’s home. For all it was part of the ranger station, it did feel like a home. She’d had a home once. Four walls with pictures, not unlike the ones that hung on Dan’s walls. And bookshelves that, like those around her now, groaned under the weight of the books they carried.
She could close her eyes and pretend she hadn’t lost all that. But eventually she would have to open her eyes again and acknowledge that this was not her home. She had no home. She’d be back on the open road again soon. And that was the way she liked it. She never stayed more than a few days in any place without feeling restless. Just because this sofa and these four walls felt good – well, that was an aberration. She would never have the house with the white picket fence, two kids and a dog. But if she did, Dan would fit very nicely into the picture, with his gentle strength and his brilliant eyes. Their kids would probably have his red hair … maybe freckles …
Quinn’s eyes flashed open. She must have been dozing. For one moment there she had seen the future she had once wanted – but now could never have. Quickly she got to her feet and headed to the kitchen. Coffee. That was the answer.
Inside the kitchen her eyes fell onto the coffee maker sitting in one corner of the worktop. Proper coffee! There was a thought. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed the billy tea and the instant coffee they made on the campfire. But real percolated coffee would be a treat. She was sure Dan wouldn’t mind.
It was the work of just a minute to find the coffee and set the machine going. As she did, she realised the kitchen was rather well equipped. It would be a pleasure to cook there. Quinn liked to cook. She had enjoyed making the damper on the campfire for the others. Enjoyed the pleasure on their faces as they ate it. Enjoyed the glow in Dan’s eyes as he bit into the tasty dough and enjoyed the warm feeling of satisfaction that had given her. There had been a time when she cooked a lot. For friends and family. She realised now she had missed that.
She breathed deep the smell of the percolating coffee. Knowing she was simply being nosy, she opened a cupboard. It was well-stocked with food. Everything from dried mushrooms to jars of sundried tomatoes. She raised an eyebrow in surprise. Dan obviously liked to cook. The next cupboard revealed dried pasta, and couscous and rice. Not only did Dan like to cook, he kept an organised kitchen. Suddenly Quinn was on a mission. She would cook dinner tonight. Here, in Dan’s kitchen. Then she would take it to the campsite to serve her friends in this, their last night together. She ignored the stab of pain that thought gave her, choosing to focus on what she would cook. By the time the coffee was made, she was pulling ingredients from the cupboards, and digging through the packets of meat in Dan’s freezer, her mind running through her favourite recipes.
Quinn was not a tidy cook. She cooked like she did most other things, with joy and enthusiasm. By the time she had a meat sauce bubbling away on the stove, the kitchen was in a certain degree of disarray. This bothered her not one whit. The house was beginning to fill with delicious smells. Her T-shirt was slightly grubby, but Quinn was happy. She wished briefly that she had brought her knitting. It would be nice to knit as she waited for the dinner to cook. But her needles and wool were back in her tent at the campsite. She was determined not to turn on he
r laptop. Instead, she pulled one of the books from Dan’s shelves and curled up to read it.
She was still there when she heard the sound of a vehicle pull up outside. She stood up, wondering if it was a park visitor. Instead she saw Dan walking towards the door.
She felt a sudden urge to comb her hair. Or tidy the kitchen. And she was suddenly very aware of the cooking stains on her T-shirt.
Dan opened the door. As he walked through a smile lit his face. ‘Hi.’
Quinn felt an answering smile on her own lips. ‘If you say “Honey, I’m home”, I will throw something at you.’
‘And if you ask “How was your day?’, I might just throw it back.’
They both chuckled and the room around them seemed to brighten and grow warm.
‘What smells so good?’ Dan asked.
‘I thought I would cook something and take it back to the campsite. We could all share dinner.’ She left out the word ‘last’.
‘That’s a really nice thought, but Carrie and Justin have gone back to his place. There’s just the two of us.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment Quinn wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or pleased. She looked at Dan’s handsome face and broad shoulders and felt a little twinge deep inside her. She was glad they were alone.
‘I tell you what,’ Dan said. ‘Let’s go crazy and have dinner here. We could eat at a table for a change.’
Quinn laughed. ‘That sounds good. It’s nothing special. I made some pasta sauce. And I found your stash of frozen bread. So I thought I might make garlic bread. You do have garlic, don’t you?’
They walked through to the kitchen, where Dan produced the required garlic from his well-stocked cupboards. While Quinn made the bread, Dan went about setting the table. When Quinn walked through to the dining room she was startled to see candles glowing brightly in the dimly lit room.
‘The solar batteries sometimes run flat,’ Dan explained. ‘I always keep a couple of candles about just in case.’
