Diamond Spirit

by Karen Wood

  ‘Oh, Jessy, don’t be so dull,’ said Caroline. She frowned at the jeans Jess was wearing and twirled her finger, indicating for Jess to turn on the spot. Jess obliged.

  ‘Hmm, they’re okay, I suppose,’ Caroline said, clearly underwhelmed. Then she began sifting through another rack of jeans. ‘How about these turquoise ones – they are much more interesting. This saddlery shop is fantastic. Why have we never been here before?’

  ‘Mum, I told you, those ones are for rodeos. I just need a pair of blue jeans. That’s what Grace and Rosie wear.’

  Caroline screwed up her nose. ‘Okay, be boring. What about a shirt? Can we get you a nice shirt, or does that have to be boring as well?’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ Jess asked cautiously.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, just something nice.’ Caroline pushed coathangers across the rack one at a time.

  ‘Mum, don’t you think you should take that hat off? The lady might think you want to buy it.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, Jess. I absolutely love it and I need something to wear. I have to look smart too, you know!’

  ‘Better than tie-dyed undies, I s’pose,’ said Jess. ‘Hang on – I like this one.’

  Caroline pulled the shirt out from the rack. ‘Ooh, that is nice. Well spotted, Jess.’

  It was short-sleeved and made from soft, cool cotton. The front pockets were trimmed in bright pink piping and the yoke had pink and white stripes. Behind the shoulders were pleats to allow the wearer to move her arms while riding. It was quite funky, without being too much.

  ‘I love it,’ said Caroline. ‘Try it on.’

  Jess took the shirt back to the change room. It was absolutely perfect. She came out and paraded for her mother.

  Caroline laid both hands over her heart. ‘You look beautiful, darling.’

  Jess slipped out of the shirt and jeans and tossed them over the change-room door to Caroline. She threw her old clothes on and gathered up the rejected outfits.

  On her way to the counter Jess nearly ran into Shara, holding a bag with the shop’s logo on it and making her way to the door. Jess’s mouth gaped open and she nearly dropped the armful of clothes she was carrying.

  Shara stared straight through her and strode past as though she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. By the time Jess turned around, the shop door was swinging shut and as quickly as she had appeared, Shara was gone.

  Jess looked to her mum. ‘Did you see that?’ she mouthed.

  Caroline nodded from the front counter. Jess ran out into the street. She checked to the left and then along the row of shops to the right. She looked over the road and in the park, but there was no sign of Shara. It was as if she had imagined the whole thing. What a cow!

  Jess stewed all the way home. ‘I can’t believe she just snobbed me off like that.’

  ‘Yes, it was very strange, wasn’t it?’ agreed Caroline. ‘She was very awkward with me at the counter, too.’

  ‘What was she buying? Did you see?’

  ‘No, she already had it in the bag.’ Caroline shrugged.

  ‘She didn’t even say hello! She treated me like a total stranger!’

  ‘Well, you two haven’t spoken for months. She probably thought you would just snub her anyway.’

  ‘I would not! No way would I snub Shara!’

  Caroline raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

  ‘What?’ demanded Jess. ‘I would not!’

  ‘Well, that may not be the message you gave her down on the river flats that day,’ said Caroline cautiously. ‘Maybe she thinks you’re still mad at her, which you are obviously—’ she turned and searched her daughter’s face for clues, ‘—not?’

  ‘Of course I’m not!’ said Jess angrily. ‘Okay, not officially,’ she amended. ‘Well, what does she expect after first lying to me, then totally blocking me?’

  ‘Didn’t you block her first?’

  ‘That’s different. I had a reason to.’

  ‘Why don’t you give her a ring?’ said Caroline. ‘It’s about time you two sorted things out, don’t you think? Shara is like family to us.’

  ‘No way, not after she just looked through me like that!’ said Jess, crossing her arms tightly. She thought of the text messages they used to send. She didn’t even carry her mobile around with her anymore. It had gone back to being what it was bought for – emergencies. ‘I can’t believe she didn’t even say hello.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jess. She’s your best friend,’ said Caroline.

  Jess stared out the window, fuming. ‘Not anymore, she’s not. I have new best friends.’

  That afternoon, Jess sat under the trees in the mares’ paddock watching Walkabout pick at fresh shoots of grass. In three months the little filly had nearly doubled in size, and her rump now stood higher than her shoulders as she grew one end at a time. Her foal fur had fallen out and she was a deep, glossy chestnut with a white snowcap over her hindquarters. Even the fur around her neck had begun to grow back over the rope burns. It had taken weeks to earn her trust again after that incident. Jess had sat patiently each day under the tree, leaving a bread crust behind each time, until Walkabout felt safe enough to resume her old tricks.

  Jess smiled as the filly walked towards her. ‘Hi, beautiful girl,’ she said, holding out a crust. ‘We’re heading off to the draft tonight. Everything’s packed.’

  She had been helping to load the truck ever since she got back from the shops. They had packed saddles, hay bales, swags and anything else they would possibly need. All that was left to load were the horses. Much to everyone’s relief, Tegan and Katrina had given up the idea of campdrafting. Both girls had moved their horses elsewhere to resume their hacking and showing pursuits.

  Walkabout took the crust and stood quietly munching at it, swishing her tail at the odd fly and stamping a back foot. Jess gave her a tickle under the chin. ‘Thank God the poo-magnets aren’t coming.’

  The other kids would all travel to the draft in Harry’s truck. It had a big double bunk and it was going to be a whole lot of fun. Craig and Caroline would follow in their ute. Lawson had reappeared since the scene with Ryan, but Grace had told Jess that he was making his own way there.

  ‘I won’t let him buy you, Wally,’ she said, stroking the filly’s neck. ‘I’m going to win that draft and save you.’

  The filly sniffed at Jess’s face. Her muzzle was exquisitely soft and her breath sent goosebumps along Jess’s arms.

  Jess gave Walkabout a kiss on the cheek and looked into her gentle brown eyes. She could see her own reflection in them. ‘I gotta go, little one.’ She got up and walked out into the paddock while the filly trotted ahead. Two other foals pricked their ears, and then the three of them wheeled around and galloped off, bucking and squealing.

  As she made her way back up the lane, she could hear the clatter of hooves on a tailgate up ahead and, as she got closer, the diesel engine of Harry’s truck. Grace was dragging a reluctant Handbrake behind her up the ramp.

  Luke stood at the top of the laneway. ‘Come on, Jess!’ he called out. ‘Dodger goes on next!’

  She broke into a run. This was it! It was happening. It was really happening!

  Jess sat in the middle of the cabin seat, with Tom, Luke, Rosie and Grace squeezed in around her. A buzz of excitement ran between them as they organised pillows for the long journey. Ahead, Stanley Arnold led the convoy, towing a huge red gooseneck trailer. Caroline and Craig followed behind.

  The two-way radio made a fuzzy noise and Stanley’s voice crackled into life through the cabin. ‘You get off all right, Harry?’

  Harry took a mouthpiece from the centre console and replied, ‘Longwood, here we come!’

  Grace stuck her head out the window and let the wind catch her hair. ‘So long, Porpoise Spit!’ she yelled.

  Rosie and Jess leaned over and stuck their heads out with her, and they all yelled, ‘So long, Coachwood Crossing!’

  ‘Er, Harry.’ This time Craig’s voice crackled on t
he two-way. ‘Can you tell those kids to get themselves back inside the truck?’

  Harry grabbed the mouthpiece again. ‘Will do, Craig.’ He double-shuffled the truck up a gear and said, ‘Come on, you lot. Get your ugly mugs back inside the cabin. And put some seatbelts on.’

  Grace ripped open a large bag of jersey caramels. ‘What have you got?’ she asked, diving uninvited into Jess’s backpack and pulling out the healthy wholemeal muffins lovingly baked by Caroline, which Jess had absolutely no intention of eating. She had slipped a few to Dodger earlier and he thought they were delicious. And strangely, so did Grace. After one bite, she eagerly swapped her entire stash of caramels for them. ‘You are so lucky to get home baking,’ she said, as she munched. ‘Kwor, these are yummo!’

  ‘Go for it,’ said Jess, unwrapping a caramel. She saw Luke eyeing off the muffins. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, surprised that they were so popular.

  Soon the floor of the cabin was littered with little silver papers and food wrappers.

  Within a couple of hours, the sun peeled back over the mountain range and dusk descended. They drove through the darkness, stopping only briefly to refuel and grab a burger at a highway truckstop. As they travelled further west, the night grew colder and colder.

  Jess sat in the cabin of the truck looking out the window, marvelling at how brightly the moon lit the wide, grassy downs on either side of the road. She could make out the silhouettes of grazing cattle, and at one stage a rabbit bounded across in front of them.

  Hours later, a line of telegraph poles guided them into the sleeping town of Longwood.

  Hundreds of horse trucks were already parked at the showgrounds, and webs of white tape, set up to yard sleeping horses, wove in and out between them. They found Stanley, who had saved a spot for them, unloaded the weary horses and bedded them down for what was left of the night.

  With the horses out, Harry’s truck converted into a comfortable camper. The top end had a small kitchenette with a gas stove and fridge and a fluorescent light running off batteries. Wire racks ran the length of the truck above head height, housing saddlery, blankets and luggage. While Harry and the boys bunked in the cabin of the truck, the girls swept out the back, unrolled their swags and, after much whispering and giggling, put their heads down to sleep.

  Jess lay there listening to the distant sounds of trucks on the highway and cattle crooning. Muffled country music crackled out of a radio and someone clunked about in the back of a horse float. She could hear men laughing a short distance away. On the other side of the truck’s metal walls, Dodger ripped noisily at his haynet and snorted dust from his nostrils.

  Finally she was in Longwood. This was her destiny. She could feel it!

  21

  RATTLING FEED BINS and bellowing cattle woke Jess. She hauled herself out of her swag, climbed over her slumbering friends and peeked out of the narrow door of the truck.

  Before her, the harsh country was softened by the gentle morning sun and a morning dew. Silver leaves shimmered on the boree trees that were dotted about. The day stretched out before her, as yet untouched, promising things new and exciting. Jess grabbed her jacket and crept out the door.

  On the other side of the truck, the arena was already filled with riders. Stockmen moved bellowing cattle from yard to yard, smacking their rumps with hollow pipes. Road trains lined up at the gates, waiting to unload more dusty, dung-covered cattle, while local townsfolk arrived in rusty utes to see the big event. The smell of frying bacon and eggs from the breakfast tent wafted tantalisingly through the air.

  ‘Hey, Dodger,’ Jess said. She stroked his glossy neck, thinking about the huge task they both had in front of them. ‘You’re a good boy. Even if we don’t win, you’re still a good boy.’

  The horse waggled his ears and Jess took a moment to give them a scratch, before doling out morning feeds and topping up water buckets.

  A crackly voice on the loudspeaker split the early-morning quiet. ‘Good morning, competitors, and welcome to the Twenty-Fifth Annual Longwood Campdraft! Our first event for the day is the maiden draft, which is sponsored by Mac Feeds and will begin in fifteen minutes. We have over twelve hundred cattle to put through the yards this weekend, so, people, please be ready when your name is called.’

  Grace’s voice came out of nowhere. ‘I went to the secretary’s tent and got your number in the draw, Jessy.’

  Jess turned and saw her sitting on the tailgate of the truck in flannelette pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt, sipping a cup of tea. ‘You’re number ninety-two,’ Grace said. ‘You’re lucky – you won’t be on for ages.’

  Rosie stumbled out into the daylight in pyjamas that matched her sister’s. ‘Grace and I are both on early,’ she moaned. ‘I’m twenty-four and Grace is seventeen.’ She plonked herself heavily on her bottom and stared into space. ‘I hate mornings.’

  ‘Dad got us some brekkie,’ said Grace, nodding towards a small camping table. On it sat three bundles of paper towel with greasy patches seeping through.

  Jessica’s mouth watered. ‘Is that third one for me?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Uh huh,’ nodded Grace, reaching over and passing her a bundle.

  Jess bit into an egg-and-bacon sandwich. The crispy bacon tasted extra delicious in fluffy white bread. ‘This is so yummy,’ she mumbled. ‘Sure beats wheatgrass juice and buckwheat muffins!’

  ‘You’re in cattle country now,’ said Rosie. ‘Wait till you taste the steak sambos.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad reckons you can tell a good draft by their steak sambos,’ said Grace. ‘They stake their reputations on it!’ She nudged Jess. ‘Get it? Steak . . . their reputations? Get it? They’re cattle farmers?’

  Jess groaned.

  ‘Hey, the poo-magnet’s here,’ said Rosie, as she bit into her sandwich. ‘I saw her over near the hacking ring. That horse of hers nearly blinded me.’

  ‘Thank God she’s not drafting,’ said Jess.

  ‘She’ll find some way to cause trouble,’ said Rosie, yawning and stretching. ‘Harry reckons we should go into the arena and help the stewards put cattle away. That way we can practise a bit. I’m going to go and get some jeans on.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Jess.

  She saddled Dodger as he finished his grain and then let him digest his breakfast while she changed into her riding clothes. She spent a few minutes in the back of the truck, plaiting her hair and polishing her boots, and as she did so she imagined herself riding a perfect round.

  I have to get a good beast.

  She buckled up her helmet as she walked out the door. She was ready.

  Dodger nickered and stamped his foot.

  ‘Righto, boy, let’s do this,’ she said, pulling his bridle over his ears. She walked him over to the practice arena.

  Dodger felt good. Seasoned horse that he was, he was fit and energetic without being over-excited. Handbrake, meanwhile, trotted lazily behind them.

  ‘Wanna swap horses?’ Grace said to Jess as she urged the young mare to catch up. ‘I’m up next and I can barely stop her from snoring.’

  ‘No, thanks!’ Jess laughed.

  The girls reached the camp-yard gate and Jess wished Grace good luck. She stayed and watched Grace kick hopelessly at Handbrake’s sides while her chosen beast darted back to the mob. In less than a minute, the judge, who sat outside the camp on his horse, lifted his arm, gave a sharp crack of his whip and disqualified her. Jess gave her a pat on the back as she came back out of the camp.

  ‘Old donkey,’ said Grace. ‘How come I always get stuck with the crap horses?’

  ‘Because you can never just stick to one horse,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Because you’re the most adventurous rider,’ said Jess. ‘You’re good at training them.’

  ‘Wish Dad would find a buyer for her so I can start training something decent,’ said Grace as she led the mare back to the truck.

  The announcer called another series of numbers.

  ‘My turn!’ said Rosie, in alarm
. She rode Buster into the camp. After a great cut-out, she burst through the gates and shouldered a small heifer around the first two pegs before it frolicked off to the sidelines and went off course.

  Jess clapped madly, and then took Dodger for a walk around the grounds. She visualised her perfect round over and over in her head, imagined galloping after the beast and shouldering it around the pegs. She went over everything she had learned.

  Keep your legs forward, supple waist, soft hands, pick a good beast, stay off its heels.

  By the time the announcer called her name, Jess could no longer think. She could no longer plan or practise. She just had to go out there and do it. All that remained between now and Walkabout’s destiny were five other kids, lined up outside the camp, and about thirteen and a half minutes. She took a deep breath.

  The camp yard was made from steel railings and screened with hessian so the cattle couldn’t see out. Jess sat on Dodger, looking over the top rail. At one end a small mob of mixed-breed cattle huddled together. At the other a stockman stood behind a large set of gates, ready to let the next rider and his chosen beast out into the main arena. A judge sat near the gates on a grey horse, holding a stockwhip in one hand, reins in the other. A scorer sat on the fence nearby, with a small chalkboard.

  Jess took her place in line with several other competitors outside the yard as a boy entered through a narrow side gate. He nodded to the judge, picked a beast and began trying to cut it from the herd. His pony darted back and forth while the rider kicked madly. The beast scooted away, and in his excitement, the boy and his horse charged straight into the mob, scattering them about the pen. Jess frowned as she watched him chase them into a frenzy.

  ‘Oh, good on ya,’ said a girl in a loud voice. She pointed at the cattle that were now crushing up against the back fence, trying to climb out. ‘Now they’re all panicked. He’s wrecking it for everyone. They shouldn’t let beginners ride at championship events.’