by Karen Wood
‘I brought some fresh asparagus from our garden,’ said Jess, glad to have the subject changed.
‘Those mushy green spear things?’ asked Harry, pulling a face.
‘It’s not tinned stuff. I picked it fresh this morning. Mum reckons you’ll live forever if you eat asparagus – it’s so full of vitamin C! It even cures cancer!’
Oh my God – was that a health lecture that just came out of my mouth? My mother has brainwashed me!
Harry smiled. ‘You’re a good kid, Jess. You’ll always be welcome around here.’
12
THROUGHOUT THE HOLIDAYS, Jess woke each morning with Diamond, Wally and the ancestral spirits on her mind. She couldn’t help it; the idea of them being spiritually linked somehow made Diamond’s death easier to accept.
When the sun rose she would slip on her old runners, toss some hay to Dodger and jog to Harry’s place. She loved helping out around the stables and eating Annie’s camp breakfasts. Annie was thrilled with the fresh asparagus. She steamed it gently, and served it on a plate of its own, deeming it too delicious to be chopped and stirred into an omelette. ‘Here, have some. It’s good for you,’ she said to Harry as she piled it onto his plate.
The day’s activities were always planned around the breakfast table. At one end Rosie, Grace and Jess would talk about their favourite horses and riding plans for the rest of the holidays. At the other end Harry would sneak his asparagus onto Luke’s plate when he thought Jess wasn’t looking. He discussed breeding programs, worming schedules and the price of hay with Luke and Tom.
Jess was happiest when she was down at the mares’ paddock playing with Wally. Sometimes, while the others were out trail-riding or schooling young horses, Jess would sit under the trees just watching Walkabout. When the little filly fell asleep, spread out in the sun, Jess would lie back and look at the sky through the canopy of the trees, thinking about spirits and listening to the earth.
At other times, Wally would badger her mother to play. And occasionally there were magical moments when curiosity got the better of her, and she would cautiously approach Jess with her nose outstretched and ears twitching. If Jess made eye contact with her, she would skitter away. But if Jess kept her eyes on the ground, the filly would come closer, sniffing the top of her head and nibbling at her ears.
Over the days and weeks, the two of them developed a friendship. Jess watched how the foals played with each other and tried to imitate them. She would walk past the filly, inviting her to follow. Initially Walkabout kept her distance, but gradually she came closer. Jess would change direction every now and then to make sure she had her attention.
This became a game, and eventually Jess could run around the paddock, ducking left and right with Wally trotting merrily behind her. As she grew bolder, the filly would initiate play, giving Jess a playful nip and looking at her with mischief in her eyes. She would shake her head up and down as though laughing, and gallop away.
Hours melted into days, and time in the mares’ paddock took on a dreamlike quality. There was never any sense of an afternoon passing but for the gnawing in Jess’s stomach when it was time to eat.
A few days before Christmas, Jess heard the ute bumping its way down the laneway. It was late in the afternoon, well after the usual feed time. She could see Lawson in the driver’s seat, but the passenger she did not know. She made herself busy, scrubbing at a water trough.
‘This lot are the best Biyanga has ever put on the ground,’ she heard Lawson say as he got out of the ute. The passenger side door opened and another man got out. They walked out into the paddock to inspect the foals.
‘I wasn’t expecting that mare to throw a coloured foal,’ the stranger said, as they approached Walkabout.
Wally’s owner?
The two men began to circle Walkabout and her mother, pushing them towards the corner of the paddock. As Walkabout skittered past, the man tossed a lasso around her neck. She reared against the rope, shook her head and fell heavily on her side. Lawson pounced on her and held her down, while the other man tightened the rope around her throat until her panicky squeals faded. The mare whinnied and paced nervously.
Jess wanted to run and scream at them, ‘She can’t breathe, you idiots.’ She stood helplessly at the trough, watching the filly’s eyes roll wildly in terror. Lawson knelt on Walkabout’s neck and the stranger ran his hands over her legs, laughing as she kicked out in protest.
‘She’s a feisty one, I’ll give her that,’ she heard Lawson say. He pulled something from his pocket and passed it to the other man.
Jess felt sick. What were they doing to her? She moved her head about, but all she could see was Walkabout’s legs kicking.
‘A bit of the right schooling will soon knock that out of her,’ the stranger replied. Then he removed the rope and let the filly struggle to her feet and race back to her frantic mother. The men stood there, hands on hips, talking and watching Walkabout as she whinnied and nuzzled at the mare.
Jess thought they would never leave. She could see a strip of raw skin swelling painfully around Wally’s neck where the rope had burned through her fur. There was skin off her shoulder too, where she had crashed so heavily to the ground. Jess longed to touch her, to soothe her and run some cool water over her burn, to let her know not all people were like that.
When the men finally got back in the ute and left the paddock, she quietly approached Walkabout. But the filly and her mother, still shell-shocked, put their ears back and walked away.
It wasn’t until later that day, when Jess caught a ride home with Harry, that she heard the terrible news. Lawson wanted to buy Walkabout.
‘He what? ’ Jess blurted out, unable to hide her horror.
‘Not much I can do about it, Jess,’ Harry said as he shifted gear. ‘She’s not my filly.’
‘Who is the owner, then?’
‘That was the owner you saw today. He sent the mare up here for stud. Now he doesn’t want the foal because it’s coloured.’
‘What’s wrong with her colour?’
‘He reckons she doesn’t look like a real stockhorse, being Appaloosa,’ said Harry dismissively. ‘Probably more to do with the mare’s papers, though,’ he mumbled. ‘If she was bred the way he reckons, she would never have thrown a coloured foal. Something amiss there.’ He put on the blinker and turned right down Jessica’s street. ‘That’s none of my business, though.’
‘What does Lawson want to do with her?’
‘He wants to train her for campdrafting. She has enormous athletic ability.’
Jess seethed. It was all wrong. Walkabout was such a free-spirited filly – she would clash awfully with someone like Lawson.
‘Why doesn’t he buy Billabong? He’s going to be a much bigger horse and he’d be much better suited.’
‘It doesn’t matter about the size,’ said Harry. ‘Some small horses are much quicker on their feet. The big ones can be a bit clumsy.’ He looked across at her. ‘You could probably buy her yourself if you could come up with the money.’
‘How much is he selling her for?’ asked Jess, running a quick calculation through her mind. She had two hundred and forty-six dollars in her savings account and she might get some money for Christmas.
‘Two grand. She’s got some impressive bloodlines – that’s if they’re for real.’ He pulled over outside Jess’s house.
‘What? Two thousand dollars?’ Jess’s heart sank. There was no way she could come up with that much money. ‘Why does it have to be Walkabout, Harry? There are seven other foals Lawson could choose from.’
Harry gave her a cuff on the head. ‘He can’t buy her until she’s six months old and can be weaned from her mother. So you’ll still have a few months before she goes.’
‘Thanks for the lift, Harry,’ she said glumly, stepping out and grabbing her bike off the back of his ute.
As Jess crawled into bed that night, she felt all the fresh new light that Walkabout had brought into her heart begin to f
ade. She stared out the open window at the stars that twinkled above the coachwood trees.
What can I do, Diamond?
I’m going to lose Walkabout too.
13
THE NEXT DAY was Christmas Eve. In the morning, Jess helped her mother in the herb patch, picking and bunching thyme for the markets. As she walked between the raised mounds of soil, her feet crushed the mint that crept uninvited onto the pathway, releasing a waft of toothpasty scent. But Jess’s mind was on other matters. She had to present a good case to her mother.
She tossed an empty cardboard box onto the pathway, then began.
‘Mum,’ she said, rummaging through the thyme plants looking for some fresh shoots. If she acted helpful and busy, her mother might be more receptive. ‘You know the little foal I told you about?’
‘Hmmm.’
‘Lawson Blake wants to buy her.’
‘So what’s wrong with that?’ her mum asked, holding a bunch of sprigs and snipping the base into neatness. ‘I know you don’t like him, but isn’t he a farrier? Surely that would be a good home.’
‘No, it would be an absolutely terrible home,’ said Jess. ‘He is way too heavy-handed to own a filly like Walkabout.’
Caroline tossed the herbs into the waiting box. ‘I’m sure Harry wouldn’t let her go to a cruel home.’
‘But Lawson has already roughed her up. I saw him. He and another horrible man threw a rope around her neck and nearly strangled her. She was terrified; you should have heard her squealing. She has all these rope burns around her neck and now I can’t get near her and—’
‘Hey, hey, hang on,’ said Caroline. ‘Calm down and explain things to me. Why did he rope her? What did Harry have to say about him doing that?’
‘Harry doesn’t own her, Mum. That other guy does – the guy that roped her. And besides, Lawson is Harry’s son, so he wouldn’t say anything against him.’
‘What!’ said Caroline. ‘You didn’t tell me Harry was related to Lawson Blake.’
‘He’s nothing like Lawson, Mum.’ Jess decided it was as good a time as any to pop the question. ‘Can’t we buy her?’
‘Since when has Lawson Blake been Harry’s son?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Jess, impatiently. ‘Probably since he was born.’
‘Yes, well, that makes perfect sense, doesn’t it,’ said Caroline, rubbing her chin.
Jess resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.
‘Mum, this is really important to me. Walkabout is a special horse. She’s one in a million. We can’t let Lawson Blake get his hands on her. You saw what happened to my face that day. Just imagine what would happen to a horse under his care. We can’t let that happen, Mum, we can’t.’
Caroline started to pick more thyme. She motioned with her secateurs for Jess to do the same. ‘Well, your father and I were planning to buy you a new horse after Christmas. But are you sure you want to buy a foal? Wouldn’t it be better to buy a horse that you can ride straight away?’
‘No, I just want her. It’s hard to explain. There’s something about Walkabout that is so much like Diamond. Walkabout was born the day Diamond died. She was born under the coachwood trees down on the river. Mum, I think they’re . . . spiritually connected.’
Jess looked pleadingly at her mother. Surely Caroline would understand how important this was. ‘Diamond was buried under a coachwood tree. That must be their totem, Mum.’
Her mother looked a little confused, but she smiled. ‘Are you saying that Diamond has been reincarnated as Walkabout?’
‘Well, I . . .’ I sound as kooky as she does. ‘No . . . Well, sort of.’
Caroline smiled. ‘I think the karmic yoga has done you good, darling. How much do her owners want for her?’
Here we go . . .
‘Two thousand dollars.’
‘Two thousand? You’ve got to be kidding!’ said Caroline. ‘Crikey, Jess, we don’t have that sort of money.’
‘Not even if we use my savings? I have two hundred and forty-six dollars.’
‘We’ll get you a new horse, but we really don’t have that much money. How about we go looking after Christmas and get you another one?’
‘I don’t want another one,’ Jess said flatly.
‘I hate to disappoint you, darling, but two thousand dollars? We could put a new engine in the tractor for that. We could do many things with two thousand dollars, and buying a horse isn’t high on the list.’ Caroline looked at her daughter. ‘Besides, you never know what else might come up.’
‘What about my education fund that Grand-dad left for me?’ Jess asked. It was a last-ditch effort, but she was desperate.
Caroline just gave her a cold don’t-even-think-about-it stare.
Jess sighed. She picked up the full box of thyme, put it on the back of the truck with the others and pulled out another empty one. There was no point even talking about it. She’d never be able to buy Walkabout.
When Jess arrived at Harry’s place later that day, Grace and Rosie were riding Legs and Nosey around the arena. Tom and Luke sat on the rails, yelling instructions to them. Jess walked over and rested her elbows on the middle rail, peering through the slabs of timber.
‘Just sit quiet, Rosie,’ Tom called out. ‘He’s still fresh. He might pigroot.’
Rosie answered something Jess couldn’t hear and continued walking Nosey around on a light contact.
There was the clink of a metal gate latch and Katrina led Chelpie into the arena.
‘Hi, Katrina,’ said Jess.
Katrina relatched the gate without answering or turning around.
‘Well, that was a waste of breath,’ Jess muttered.
Katrina mounted and began circling Chelpie at the other end of the arena. The little white mare dazzled with whiteness, even though it wasn’t a particularly sunny day. She stretched her perfectly rounded neck down into the bit and walked with such floaty poise that she looked almost surreal.
At the other end, Grace cantered a couple of circles on Legsy and then, with barely a pull on the colt’s mouth, she commanded him to slide on his hocks into a halt. Then she lifted the reins to the left and the colt bounced into an easy canter again, loping steadily towards the fence. At the rail, Grace released the reins and gave him a pat, signalling that work was over. Legsy stretched his neck, puffing gently.
Grace looked over at Luke, who was sitting on the rail. ‘Can Jess have a ride on Legsy?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Wanna ride?’ he asked Jess.
She shook her head.
‘He’s really sensible,’ said Grace. ‘Come on, if we’re going to be besties, you’ll have to get back in the saddle soon. You won’t have much fun just mucking out stables all the time.’
Jess leaned against the rail. ‘Not today, Gracie. I don’t feel like it.’
Tom twisted around and looked down at her. ‘Why so glum, chum?’
‘Harry reckons Lawson is going to buy Walkabout.’
Tom raised his eyebrows with surprise.
‘That’s bad!’ said Grace.
‘Lawson can be rough with horses,’ said Tom. ‘That’s why Harry won’t let him ride Biyanga.’
‘I know,’ said Jess, glad that they understood.
‘Why would he want Wally?’ said Luke, pushing Legsy’s head from his lap. ‘She’ll be too small for him.’ He brushed a large blob of white slobber off his jeans and frowned at Grace, who was grinning. ‘Get him off me!’
Grace reined the horse back a step.
‘Harry reckons it doesn’t matter how small she is,’ said Jess. ‘Sometimes the smaller ones are better on their feet. He says she’s the best foal Biyanga has ever produced.’
‘Maybe if Lawson can’t ride Biyanga, he thinks Wally would be the next best thing,’ said Luke.
‘He’s just trying to get back at Harry for not letting him ride Biyanga,’ said Grace.
Tom shifted up the rail towards them. ‘Why don’t you buy her, Jess?’
‘I alrea
dy thought of that,’ said Jess. ‘I asked Mum this morning and she said no. Wally’s worth two thousand dollars and we just don’t have that much money.’
Tom whistled. ‘That’s a lot of money for a freshly weaned filly.’
Grace called out to her sister. ‘Hey, Rosie, did you hear that? Lawson is going to buy Walkabout.’
Rosie rode towards them, a horrified look on her face.
‘He was in the mares’ paddock yesterday. I saw him rope Walkabout and nearly strangle her. It was so awful,’ said Jess.
‘Lawson actually used to be quite nice before he had that big fight with Ryan,’ said Grace.
Rosie glanced over her shoulder. ‘Something happened in their family, but we’re not allowed to know what. Harry gets a bit narky if you ask him about it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Grace. ‘We’re too young and stupid to understand, apparently.’
‘Well, he probably knows that you’d go flapping your mouth off to everyone if you knew,’ said Rosie.
‘Would your mum let you have Walkabout if you could find the money?’ asked Tom.
Jess shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘Well then, somehow we have to find two thousand dollars,’ he said.
Jess stared at him. Easy for him to say. His family was rich. If he was in this position, he would just . . .
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you buy her, Tom?’
Tom grinned and gave Nosey a pat. ‘I kinda had something else in mind.’
Jess’s face dropped. ‘Oh.’
‘And besides, you should own her, not me. She’s your little buddy.’
Rosie spoke up. ‘I think we should unsaddle these horses and have a crisis talk in the tackroom.’
‘Yeah,’ said Grace, kicking off her stirrups and jumping off Legsy. ‘This is really bad.’
‘The feedroom would be better,’ said Luke, climbing down from the rails. ‘There’s not much to sit on in the tackroom.’
‘Yeah, and it’s more out of the way, too,’ said Tom, turning to glance at Katrina. ‘Not so close to you-know-who’s stable.’
