Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘What do you say now?’ Kim asked him. ‘Am I still living around the edges?’

  Taj turned to her with a grin. ‘I take that back.’ The warmth of his smile was reflected in his voice. ‘You’ve well and truly moved in.’ He picked up a little Moreton Bay fig. ‘Half of these seedlings are too small to plant out yet. They need re-potting and time to grow. In the meantime, I’ll bring you some advanced trees from home.’

  ‘Mel has some bigger ones too. We’ve got plenty to get started.’

  The sound of Ben’s voice calling Mel from the house interrupted them.

  ‘Time I went.’ Taj turned off the tap, and a disappointed Dusty pawed at the lifeless hose. ‘Make sure they all get a good soaking. Tomorrow I’ll put up shade cloth and connect an automatic spray system to the pump on the creek. Otherwise your tanks will run dry.’

  ‘Why not stay for dinner?’ said Kim. ‘Mel and the kids are coming back once they feed the animals. We can have a barbeque.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m camping out at the yards again tonight.’

  A local brumby group had lent them a set of steel passive trapping yards, to catch the mob of wild horses who’d moved in from Tarringtops over summer. Taj had set them up on Kim’s land beside the billabong on Cedar Creek, where it was shady and flat, with access for trucks. The lay of the land formed a natural funnel, helping to channel the brumbies towards the trap.

  ‘They seem a bit flimsy,’ Kim had said when she first saw the yards. She shook a section of fence. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to reinforce these panels with timber posts?’

  ‘Too dangerous. They need a bit of give in them.’

  For the last few weeks he’d been baiting the yards with salt blocks, molasses and hay. Once the brumbies were used to coming in, a tripwire could be rigged up to a counterweight, swinging the gate shut behind them. But so far the wild horses had proved too clever, avoiding the yards whenever the trap was set.

  Some nights when she slept, she dreamed of Taj out there, in his swag by the billabong beneath the stars. Once, after waking from a restless sleep, she went out on the verandah, and saw the wild horses on the hill, slipping wraith-like through the moonlit trees.

  ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘Let me know if you catch them.’

  Kim watched his ute swing around and drive away, wheels spinning on gravel. Was that the real reason he was leaving? Taj always disappeared pretty promptly when Ben arrived. She was beginning to think he shared Abbey’s dislike of the man.

  Kim’s thoughts kept returning to Mel’s words earlier in the day. Ben’s been spending a lot of time at your place. I see his car there all the time. Kim had called her silly, but was she? Ben swung around after work most nights now. At first it was to check on her after the accident. But the visits continued after it became clear that she was okay. Sometimes he brought little gifts picked up in Taree, where he had his real estate office. Flowers or a bottle of wine. A new cricket ball or comic for Jake. Sticker books for Abbey or a horsey postcard to add to her collection. Not that she was very receptive. Not like Jake.

  Her son hero-worshipped Ben, and since he’d been coming round, Jake’s behaviour had improved out of sight. Even Abbey noticed. ‘I almost like Jake now,’ she’d whispered, when he made a pond for her turtle. However Abbey didn’t agree with her mother’s explanation for the turnaround. ‘It’s not Ben that’s made Jake nicer,’ she said. ‘It’s Dusty.’

  Abbey was just a child. She didn’t understand.

  Kim was lonely living in this remote place, especially at day’s end, and she looked forward to Ben’s visits. She checked the clock more frequently as the afternoons wore on, listening for his car down on the road. What she made for dinner and what she wore became more carefully considered affairs. Ben often stayed on to share the wine he brought. Sometimes he casually brushed against her, or picked a leaf from her hair. There was no doubt they were growing closer.

  There was also no doubt that there was something very seductive about Ben’s resemblance to Connor. Not just physically, but in personality as well. Ben was a take-charge kind of guy, naturally confident. His presence brought a comforting sense of security along with it. He sorted things for her. When the satellite television people were giving her the run-around, Ben stepped in and dealt with them. The house was hooked up within days. He arranged for her car to be fixed promptly, dealt with the insurance company and lent her a replacement vehicle. He dropped off her mail and took Jake to cricket practice. After managing alone for so long, it was nice to be looked after again.

  The similarity didn’t end there. Like Connor, Ben was entertaining and gregarious, a perfect foil for her serious side. He told her jokes, made her laugh. Charmed her from her introversion. Although on one point there was no comparison. Connor would have loved Dusty, she was sure of it.

  Mel’s car pulled in behind Ben’s just as Taj was leaving. Todd ran off to the house, carrying a bottle of soft drink, Nikki following. Mel emerged more slowly, with a salad bowl in her hands, and a smug I told you so expression on her face. ‘Ben’s here again. How did I guess?’

  Kim gave her a wry grin and took the offered bowl.

  ‘Greek salad,’ said Mel. ‘Except with cheddar cheese, because I don’t have any feta. And capsicum instead of cucumber.’

  Kim peered into the bowl. ‘Is that bacon? I don’t remember bacon in Greek salad.’

  ‘The bacon’s instead of the olives. I didn’t have any olives.’

  Kim laughed. ‘So it’s a Greek salad with no cucumber, feta or olives.’

  ‘And no onion. Nikki doesn’t like onion.’ She headed into the house.

  The boys and Nikki came round the side of the house with Ben. He must have come straight from work. She liked how he held himself. She liked the pride he took in his appearance. Connor had been like that. He’d used their iron more than she had. Ben’s muscles showed beneath his fitted, short-sleeved business shirt. Sandy-blond hair ruffled in the breeze. Knife-edge creases in his trousers. He looked too well-groomed for the bush. Kim glanced down at her soiled jeans and sweaty singlet.

  ‘What have you got here?’ Ben pointed to the pots. ‘Looks like you’re starting up a nursery.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ said Kim. ‘Maybe I will one day. But for now, I’m doing some replanting.’

  ‘Replanting? You’d be better off doing the opposite. Getting the tractors and chains in, reclaiming some of that scrubby hill country.’

  Dusty crept towards Ben, smiling and wagging his tail. Ben ignored the pup at first, then pushed him away with his foot. Kim saw Jake flinch, then gather himself.

  Abbey was watching from the seat of the old steam traction engine. She clapped her hands. ‘Dusty.’ He pricked up his ears and trotted off to friendlier territory. Jake looked torn but let him go. The lure of his hero was too strong.

  ‘Let’s get some practice in before the match tomorrow,’ Ben said, and Jake and Todd ran off to get their stuff.

  ‘Why don’t you like Dusty?’ Kim said into the quiet that fell.

  Ben frowned. ‘I happen to believe dogs should be useful, earn their keep round the farm. You need solid bloodlines for that. You won’t think he’s so cute when he’s all grown up and running amok with Mel’s sheep.’

  Kim looked to where Dusty was now playing chasey with the girls. Was Ben right? Would the pup become a problem?

  Ben strolled off to help the boys set up a makeshift pitch. Kim went back to watering, careful not to miss a pot, stopping frequently to examine this one or that one. Lengthening shadows crept over the sea of plants. She should go help Mel with dinner, but she couldn’t tear herself away. Each pot came with the promise of something wonderful, something unexpected – a botanical lucky dip. She owed Taj a lot. If it wasn’t for his goading, she’d never have found the courage to follow her dream.

  ‘How’s that!’ Ben’s voice rang out across the paddock. Taj and Ben. Two men, different as night and day. Two men who, each in their own way,
were teaching her to live again.

  CHAPTER 20

  A knocking summoned Kim from the fog of sleep. She rubbed her eyes. It was barely light.

  ‘Kim? Kim, wake up.’ Taj stood in the doorway to her bedroom, as wild and alarming as the first day she met him. Gum leaves and hay clung to his clothes. For a moment she thought she was dreaming.

  She sat up with a start, aware of the swell of her breasts beneath the thin cotton nightie, and a tingle in her nipples. They were unaccountably erect. Taj took her in with fathomless eyes, before retreating to the hallway.

  ‘We’ve caught the whole mob,’ he called. ‘The brumby people are on their way with a truck.’

  ‘That’s marvellous.’ Kim’s arms were goosebumped, and she pulled a wrap around her shoulders. ‘I’ll wake the kids.’

  Abbey yawned. ‘Is Nikki coming?’

  ‘No. Mel’s busy today. Now, can we go?’ They ventured outside, into the early morning chill. Late summer, and there was already a touch of autumn in the air.

  ‘I think we should leave them,’ said Jake. ‘I like seeing brumbies on the place.’

  ‘We can’t,’ said Kim. ‘They’re trampling our plantings and caving in the creek banks.’

  ‘Can I keep one as a pet?’ asked Abbey.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetie. These are wild horses, not children’s ponies.’

  ‘Can I bring Dusty?’ asked Jake.

  ‘No dogs,’ said Kim. Today’s task might not be a straightforward one. Safely loading wild horses onto a truck was bound to be stressful, and she wondered about the wisdom of bringing Abbey along. Of course it would be hard to leave her behind. Word had somehow got around. There was plenty of local interest in the brumbies, and apparently half the town was turning out to watch.

  The scene at the yards was more confronting than she’d imagined. The mob’s black stallion had cut his foreleg and was pacing the fences. He tested them occasionally by hurling his shoulder into the panels. They rattled and shook, yielding a little to the force, but held firm. Kim felt a shiver down her spine.

  ‘What happened to his ear?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s the victim of a sport called tagging,’ said Taj, his voice low so that the children didn’t hear. ‘Young brumbies are chased on horseback, roped, and then have half an ear cut off as a trophy. He may have led his herd to Journey’s End to escape his tormentors.’

  Kim blanched. ‘They will be all right, won’t they, when we put them on the truck?’

  ‘They’ll be well cared for,’ said Taj. ‘Hayley has devoted her life to the protection of these wild horses.’

  Abbey and Jake approached the yards. The mares milled along the fence: two bays and a buckskin. They kept the two taffy foals between them, shielded from sight. ‘Come away,’ called Kim, as the stallion charged the fence, all rolling eyes and flattened ears.

  Abbey screamed and darted back to hide behind her mother, but Jake held his ground. ‘Whoa, boy. Nobody’s going to hurt you.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Taj. ‘Show him no fear.’ The stallion’s ears snapped forward and he lowered his head. The grinding of gears cut through the still air. ‘Here come the troops.’

  The horse truck was followed by half-a-dozen cars. Quite a crowd was gathering. ‘What happens now?’ asked Kim. ‘Do we try to load the horses?’

  ‘That will be hours away,’ said Taj. ‘We let them settle down first. Next we encourage them to walk through the cattle crush. Then we get them used to standing in it for a few minutes at a time. This must all be done very slowly, so they are not frightened. Once they will stand calmly in the crush, we halter them. Each horse is taught basic pressure and release.’

  ‘All that with wild brumbies?’ said Kim. ‘How long will it take? I thought you’d just rope them or something.’

  Taj gave her an amused look. ‘Like in the cowboy movies?’

  Kim smiled back. ‘Just like that.’

  ‘A wild horse’s first encounter with man leaves an indelible impression. Take that black. His trust has already been broken. If we chase him with ropes, if we panic him, he will hurt himself. Brumbies are like us. They learn more quickly when they are calm, so we give them time, remain patient. Only when they are leading – learning our language – only then will we load them on the truck.’

  ‘How do you know so much about brumbies?’

  Taj shrugged. ‘I have a way with wild things.’

  ‘He bloody well does.’ A fresh-faced girl with messy blonde hair and a pierced lip interrupted the conversation. ‘G’day, I’m Hayley. I manage the wild horse sanctuary.’ She gave Kim a quizzical look. ‘You seem surprised.’

  ‘It’s just . . . you look so young.’

  Hayley laughed and tossed her hair back from her eyes. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. I might be young, but I’ve been fanatical about brumbies since I was fourteen years old.’ She put her arm round Taj’s shoulder. ‘What this man doesn’t know about horses isn’t worth knowing.’

  Taj certainly was full of surprises. Kim couldn’t stop looking at the girl’s arm round his shoulder. For some reason it annoyed her.

  Hayley turned and studied the horses in the yards. They seemed to have settled somewhat. Even the stallion had stopped his restless pacing. ‘They sure are beauties. Do you have a name for the black horse, Taj?’

  ‘One-Ear.’

  She grinned at him. ‘Perfect. Let’s get to work.’

  It was an intriguing day. Taj was true to his word. To Jake’s disappointment, there were no yee ha cowboy tactics employed with the horses. The volunteers worked quietly and calmly, never rushing or making sudden movements. Slowly and surely, the mares learned to walk through the crush, then stand quietly inside for a few minutes with the gates closed.

  The taffy filly-foal was braver than the others, and very inquisitive. Despite the herd’s best efforts to guard her, she refused to stay put. She played with the water trough. She tugged at the halters hanging on the fence with her teeth. She almost gave her poor mother a heart attack by trotting up to Taj and chewing his shirt.

  These antics went down well with the watching children. A party atmosphere had developed among the two dozen or so people who’d come to watch. The cricket club had a bye that week, and it seemed for some that the brumbies were the alternative Saturday entertainment. A reporter had arrived from the Wingham Gazette, with a cameraman who was madly snapping photographs. Mothers spread out blankets for picnics beneath the shady red gums. Kids swam in the billabong and swatted flies. Shirley and Pat Ryan, who Kim had met at the quiz night, were there with their grandchildren. The men were swapping stories about sheep and tractors, and arguing about who had the best bull. They leaned on the yards, offering advice, being shooed away by frustrated volunteers.

  Hayley insisted on giving the brumbies frequent breaks between teaching sessions, only working with each animal for stretches of ten minutes at a time. ‘Stop piss-farting around, love,’ said one farmer, when Hayley stopped for lunch. ‘Get a rope on those buggers and I’ll winch them into the truck for you.’

  Hayley politely refused his help. ‘That’s one way to make a horse head-shy for life,’ she told Kim beneath her breath. ‘Or break its neck.’

  Kim opened her little esky. ‘Want a sandwich? There’s ham and tomato, or egg and lettuce.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hayley. ‘I forgot to bring lunch.’

  ‘How long have you known Taj?’

  ‘He’s been volunteering for about two years. Takes on the tough cases, ones that have already had a hard time from some other bastard.’ She pointed to the rearing, crop-eared stallion in the yards. ‘Like him.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Taj is quite a babe, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well, I —’

  ‘And what about that accent?’ Hayley put a hand to her heart. ‘Gets me here every time.’ She pointed to the yards where Taj was working with One-Ear. ‘Look, he’s about to get the halter on.’

  People were stopping to watch.

/>   One-Ear stood in the crush, atremble from the tip of his nose to the end of his tangled tail. Taj had one hand on his sweat-streaked shoulder. The other held a rope halter. He was crooning something soft and lyrical, in a language Kim didn’t recognise. In one sure movement he slipped the noseband on, passed the crown-piece over the stallion’s neck, and knotted it. The horse plunged forward, but the cramped crush brought him up short. He stood with nostrils quivering, eyeing Taj, who still crooned his soothing song.

  Slowly One-Ear relaxed. His head came down. He licked his lips, allowing Taj to rub his withers. ‘That’s a bonding move,’ said Hayley. ‘Horses mutually groom each other in that spot.’

  ‘What’s he doing now?’ asked Kim.

  ‘Breathing into his nose,’ said Hayley. ‘A little horse-whisperer trick of the trade. It’s a sign of friendship. See there? Rubbing his ears?’ Her eyes shone. ‘Amazing. The last time a man got near that horse’s ears, they sliced one off.’

  Ten minutes later, Taj had One-Ear following him around the yards without a rope. It was a remarkable accomplishment. Even Jake was impressed. ‘Can we keep that horse, Mum? I want to try what Taj is doing.’

  By three o’clock the brumbies were loaded and, as Taj promised, it had remained a calm affair.

  ‘Bye-bye, brumbies,’ said Abbey. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  As if in response, the stallion stomped his feet, shaking the truck, and letting out an ear-splitting neigh.

  ‘I think One-Ear’s trying to tell us something,’ said Hayley. ‘Time to get this show on the road.’

  Kim shook her hand. ‘Thank you for your help, Hayley. I’ll put a donation into your account tonight.’

  Hayley smiled. ‘You and your kids can visit the brumbies whenever you want, if I can come and have a look at your rewilding project.’