Brumbies in the Mist

by Paula Boer

  “Why do we need halters?” Louise ruffled Rocket’s ears as he sat at her feet, tongue lolling from his exertions chasing the stock. Although a working dog, he had become more of a pet by growing up with Ben.

  Ben whistled to the other dogs as he headed to the kennels. Sweat ran down his face as he swatted flies away from his nose. “We’ll lead a couple of the stockhorses. That way we only need to make two trips.”

  By the time Ben had clipped the kelpies onto their chains and given them each a bone, Snip and Ned stood tied in the yard. Snifter bounced by his side as he looked around for Louise. He spotted her lugging a saddle from the tack room. “We won’t need those. No way I’m carrying a saddle back from the bush paddock.”

  Louise stopped and raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never ridden bareback before.”

  “You’ll be alright. Ned’s really comfy with all his fat. Come on, let’s hurry up.” Slipping the halters off the fence post, he caught two of the stockhorses while Louise returned the saddle.

  In moments she was back. Untying Ned, she looped the reins over his head and accepted the lead rope from Ben of one of the stockhorses. “Can you give me a leg up?”

  “Sure.” Ben hoisted Louise up onto Ned. After leading his own two horses out of the yard, he easily vaulted onto Snip’s back, despite the black gelding being sixteen hands.

  “I wish I could do that.” Louise looked uncomfortable on Ned, her feet dangling loosely by her sides.

  Ben shrugged. “I’ve been riding bareback since I could walk. Just practice, I guess. Sit the same as you would in a saddle, with your toes up.”

  Tugging on the lead rope, Ben urged his stockhorse next to Snip. Heading out of the farmyard, he glanced back over his shoulder to see Ned following. Louise looked concerned where she perched stiffly on his back. “Okay?”

  “It feels so weird, all wobbly and warm. Don’t go too fast.” Louise pressed her legs against Ned’s sides to make him walk up.

  The riders headed across the bridge over Tumbledown Creek. Normally the water barely trickled underneath; today it swirled and rushed, threatening to engulf the wooden planks. The horses snorted as they clopped over, their hoof beats reverberating on the timbers.

  Snip shied at a magpie that chortled on a low branch near his head. “Steady, fella. No need to play up today. You know you’re going somewhere different, don’t you?”

  The Naylors owned a large bush paddock on the far side of the old road to the park. They rarely put stock in there, mainly using it for firewood supplies and gathering native raspberries. The gate was situated approximately two kilometres from the homestead so the ride didn’t take long. Snifter snuffled along the verge, racing to and fro on his three legs but keeping the horses in sight.

  Ben slid off Snip and dragged open the gate which had long since come off its hinges. “There’s not enough feed in here for a herd of cattle, but it’ll do for a few horses.”

  Louise slipped off Ned and brushed off her jeans. “I guess you couldn’t keep sheep in here because of the briars.”

  “No, you’re right. Their wool would become tangled and dirty, and it’s almost impossible to muster them in the thick undergrowth. Anyway, this paddock doesn’t have sheep netting like the paddocks nearer home.” Ben waited while Louise led her two horses through the gate before lugging it closed.

  Louise draped the rope around the stockhorse’s neck and undid the buckle of the headcollar. “Can I let them go?”

  “Yeh. Turn them to face the gate first so we don’t get kicked as they charge off.” Ben did the same as he spoke. When Louise indicated she was ready, they freed all four horses at the same time.

  For a moment the geldings stood still. Snip pricked up his ears and raised his head. Lowering his nose to the ground, he blew at the native grasses and summer flowers. After giving a huge snort, he leaped off and cantered along the fence line.

  “He doesn’t think much of the feed in here.” Ben laughed as he watched his horse stop and check the ground before cantering on again. The other three horses followed. When they came to a large clearing, they galloped off with their heels flying, racing and nipping at each other.

  Louise leant on the huge timber fence post. “Look at them go. I’m glad I’m not still on Ned.” The Appaloosa propped and spun, half-rearing in play.

  Ben called Snifter through and latched the gate. He swung the bridle and halter onto his shoulder. “We’d better get the others. Aren’t you glad you didn’t use a saddle? It’s a long way to lug it back.”

  On returning back to the farm, Ben bridled Brandy. “You can ride Jake. Can you lead the last horse?”

  Louise nodded and stood for Ben to leg her up onto Jake. “He’s a bit bonier than Ned.”

  “Yeh. Do you want a sheepskin? It’s more comfortable, but it might slip.”

  Louise shook her head. “I’ll be okay. It’s not much different from riding my bike.”

  Ben gave the lead rope of the stockhorse to Louise. After vaulting onto Brandy, he stroked the stallion’s neck. Ben was glad he’d been doing some bareback work with him. Together they led the way to the bush paddock.

  Once Louise had turned Jake and the other stockhorse out, Ben turned Brandy back along the road. Not wanting to leave the other horses, he danced and fought. Arching his neck, he pranced about until Ben slapped him with the ends of the reins. “Behave. You’ll be loose soon.”

  He pointed out a gate further along the fence line to Louise. “Can you open that for me? The sooner I turn him out the better.”

  Louise ran and did as asked.

  Ben jumped off Brandy before he went into the paddock, turning him around to face the gate after Louise had closed it behind them. The brumby reared and pulled on the reins. Snifter barked at the excitement, causing the horse to become even more agitated. As soon as Ben let him go, he charged off to the fence. A family of magpies flapped into the air with loud squawks. The stallion screamed at the other horses. Ben heard Snip answer, and the geldings next door came galloping through the trees.

  Reunited with his mates, Brandy settled down. His liver chestnut coat gleamed with health. He touched noses with the other horses over the barbed wire, squealing like a young colt and striking out with his front leg. His mane flowed as he tossed his head and paced up and down the boundary. Having had enough of his rough play, the geldings turned away, heads down, looking for food. The stallion whinnied after them, trotting along on his side of the fence.

  “They’ll settle. Let’s go back and see what Mum’s got for afternoon tea.”

  The following morning, Ben rode his bike down to check on the horses. Snifter ran alongside, paws flinging up droplets from the dewy grass. A thin mist threaded through the trees. Propping his bike up against the gate of Brandy’s paddock, he called to the stallion.

  No thunder of hooves answered. Unperturbed, knowing that in strange surroundings the brumby would be out of routine, Ben wandered through the gum trees with Snifter bounding along beside. Kookaburras laughed as he passed their territory and the smell of eucalypt wafted on the air.

  Reaching the fence that divided Brandy’s paddock from that of the geldings, Ben spotted Snip and the others grazing in the distance, shrouded in the mist. The black gelding raised his head at Ben’s approach and whinnied, before he resumed picking at the grass.

  Ben bent through the plain wires at the bottom of the fence and walked over to the contented herd. He checked each horse in turn, looking for scratches or other injuries that they might have incurred from their mad racing of the day before. All seemed fine.

  Leaving them to continue grazing, he returned to Brandy’s paddock to look for the brumby. He thought it strange that the stallion had not kept the geldings in sight, but the best grass was on the far side. Ben cut across through the trees to the clearing but there was still no sign of Brandy.

  Although the fence was
not sheep proof, Ben didn’t think Brandy would have been able to escape. It always worried him that the brumby would try to return to the wild, particularly if mares in season came near. Deciding to check the boundary for any sign of his horse, Ben whistled Snifter and picked up his pace.

  Approaching the corner of the paddock, Ben could see a large brown shape. It didn’t look like a horse, or a rock, or even a fallen tree. Curious, he made his way over to investigate.

  “No! Brandy! What’s happened?” Breaking into a run, Ben rushed to where the stallion lay upside down, tangled in the wire. The horse lay motionless, head jammed under the strainer post and two of his legs suspended in the top strand of the fence.

  Thinking his horse dead, Ben fell to his knees beside Brandy. The horse’s eyes were swollen shut, but as Ben touched the stallion’s forelock, he struggled to lift his head. “Lay still, I’ll get you out of there.”

  Leaping to his feet, Ben tried to untangle Brandy’s fetlocks, but the barbed wires strained taut. Glancing at the lacerated skin, Ben knew he had to get help. He pulled his T-shirt off and covered his horse’s head, hoping that by being blindfolded the brumby wouldn’t struggle.

  Ben’s heart pounded as he raced back to his bike. Leaping astride, he pedalled as fast as he could back to the farm, with Snifter struggling to keep up. Dropping his bike to the ground at the garden fence, Ben burst through the back door. “Dad! Mum! Brandy’s hurt!”

  Mr Naylor came out of the bathroom doing up his belt. “What’s that damn horse done now? He’s nothing but trouble.”

  “Dad, he’s tangled upside down in the fence. He must have tried to jump in with the geldings. His head’s stuck under the stay and his legs are twizzled in the wire.”

  “Calm down. You go back with the fencing pliers and cut him free. I’ll get the fencing gear so we can get him out.” Jamming his hat on his head, Mr Naylor left the house and headed for his ute.

  By the time his father joined him in the paddock, Ben had cut Brandy’s legs loose, but the horse still lay trapped under the corner post. Having had time to look over the brumby’s injuries, Ben knew the horse would need a vet. His heart half rose as he heard the ute pull up at the gate knowing help had arrived, and half sank knowing that his father would begrudge paying money out for this horse.

  “He’s got himself right stuck, hasn’t he?” Mr Naylor knelt by the stallion’s head and surveyed the situation. “Get that headcollar on him if you can, though I doubt he’ll be running anywhere far. I’ll get the crowbar and we’ll dig that post out.” Without waiting for comment from Ben, Mr Naylor lumbered back to the ute to get his gear.

  Once the fence post had been removed, Brandy still lay unmoving, despite no longer being trapped. Ben stroked the liver chestnut neck and tried not to think the worst. “What do you reckon, Dad?”

  Mr Naylor drew a pewter flask out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap. “He’s in shock. I’ll give him a bit of whisky. Oliver always reckons that’s the go.” Oliver Giles had been the Naylor’s vet for as long as Ben could remember. As a Scot, many of his bush remedies involved a whisky bottle, and not just for the animals.

  After swallowing half the contents of the flask, Brandy’s skin started to shiver. Within moments, his whole body shook. Ben stood clear as the horse struck out his front legs to sit up like a dog. With a grunt, the injured stallion lunged to his feet. Spasms rippled along his sweat drenched coat as he stood with his head hanging down, his throat swollen to the thickness of his neck.

  Ben couldn’t believe Brandy had made it to his feet. “Look at his leg. Is that bone I can see?”

  Mr Naylor ran his hands gently along the horse’s back and down his hind leg to the hock, staring at the gaping wound on the inside of Brandy’s leg. “That’ll take some healing. You won’t be riding this boy for a while. You stay with him while I get the truck and ring Oliver. We’ll be needing more than his whisky.”

  Grateful that his father had offered to fetch the vet, Ben’s stomach churned in anguish for his horse. He stroked the velvety nose and whispered nonsense words to him, trying not to look at the horrific injuries. The wire had cut deep into the stallion’s flesh between his chest and forelegs as well as tearing the skin from the hind leg. Another gaping wound looked as if the hoof had been torn from the pastern.

  By the time Ben heard the horse truck rattling up the road, Ben had come to terms with the fact he may never be able to ride Brandy again, but he hoped he’d be able to keep him alive and use him as a stallion. He knew of other horses that had survived injuries as bad as these.

  Oliver Giles and Louise both accompanied Mr Naylor as he joined Ben at the fence. The vet gave Ben a brief nod of greeting before bending to look at Brandy’s leg.

  While the vet checked the brumby over, Louise stood a little way back. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

  Ben shook his head. “I doubt he’ll be rideable. Look at how his hoof is hanging, and that’s a huge wound showing that much bone.”

  Oliver stood and turned to the two friends. “Don’t give up on him just yet, laddie. He’s in too much shock to do much with today, but give him a few days and we’ll sedate him and give him a thorough examination. If there’s no injury to the tendon, he’s a good chance of coming right. I’m more worried about internal injuries from him being upside down. How long do you reckon he was like that?”

  Encouraged by the news, Ben perked up. “I don’t know. We left them yesterday afternoon and they were all hooning around then. It could have been soon after that I suppose.”

  Mr Naylor rolled up lengths of the cut wire. “More likely it was when the geldings moved away to graze, and he couldn’t see them anymore. He’s never been totally on his own before, has he?”

  “No, you’re right. But that would still mean it was yesterday.”

  Oliver waddled to the other side of the horse, his white beard and large gut making him look like Santa Claus. “It obviously stopped bleeding hours ago. Good job it didn’t cut an artery. Let’s clean him up and get him home. We’ll work out there what to do next.”

  Chapter 5

  Saturday morning finally arrived. The last week of the school year had dragged for Louise. Worried about Brandy’s injury, how Honey was settling in to her new home, and the missing wild horses, she had no patience for Christmas parties and dressing up with her girlfriends. Her reports had improved enough to keep her parents happy; now all she wanted was to enjoy the six weeks of summer holidays in the mountains.

  Ben had farm chores to do, so Louise cycled over to see Honey. The long ride and the hot sun had her dripping in sweat by the time she reached Gold River Run, Patti McGrath’s horse training establishment. She propped her bike up on its stand in the parking area and went into the cool of the stable complex.

  Guided by cheerful whistling, Louise found Patti grooming a massive grey warmblood in the end stable. The horse held his head high and twitched his lips as the strong strokes massaged his body. “He looks like he’s enjoying that.”

  Patti stopped brushing and turned to say good morning to Louise. “I thought I might see you today. Is school finished?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. How’s Honey? I’m sorry I couldn’t come over before.” Louise unbolted the sturdy stable door for Patti to exit with her arms full of grooming kit.

  “All the mares are fine. I’ve checked them every morning. Is Ben coming over? How’s his stallion?” Patti moved to the next stable where a delicate bay mare stood tugging on a hay net.

  Louise followed Patti into the stable and closed the door behind her. She stroked the mare’s neck as Patti picked out the Thoroughbred’s hooves. “Ben has work to do so he won’t be here, and the vet hasn’t had a chance to look at Brandy since that first day. I thought I might take Honey out, if that’s okay.”

  Patti stretched her back as she stood straight. “She’s your horse. Do whatever you like
. Are you going across to the park?”

  Louise had thought about what she might do today, but wasn’t sure she was ready to ride out on her own. “I thought I might leave that until Ben comes to ride Lady. I’d probably get lost from this direction.”

  The pair chatted for a short while before Louise went to catch Honey. As she walked across the paddock, halter swinging from one arm, she called to her mare. The brumby swung up her head and whinnied as Louise approached. “You remember me then? Do you want to do some work?”

  Slipping on the halter, she straightened Honey’s forelock and fed her the carrot she had ready. Honey walked along at Louise’s shoulder, crunching on her treat.

  After tying the mare in the stable that Patti has said she could use, she retrieved her grooming kit that she had left here when they delivered the horses. Grabbing Honey’s bridle, she suddenly realised she didn’t have a saddle. She had always used Ned’s saddle on Honey which was still at Tumbleford Farm. She knew that Lady’s saddle wouldn’t fit her, and anyway, when Ben came to ride, they couldn’t both use the same one.

  She found Patti tacking up the grey warmblood. “Do you have a saddle I could use for Honey? I’m sorry, but I don’t have my own.”

  Patti finished doing up the mare’s girth and wrinkled her brow in thought. “I’m not sure I’ve anything that will fit her short back. Why don’t you ride her bareback? She looks like she’d be comfy enough.”

  Louise moved her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve only ever walked bareback, and that was only to turn the geldings out last weekend. I was hoping to do a bit more with Honey today.”

  Patti threw her arms in the air. “Well now’s the time. I wasn’t allowed to use a saddle until I could canter bareback when I was a child, and I only had a headcollar, not a bridle, until I could prove I wouldn’t lean on my pony’s mouth. Ride her in the indoor school with me; if you fall off it won’t hurt in the soft sand and she can’t go anywhere.”