Brumbies in the Mist

by Paula Boer

  Ben rammed the old vehicle into gear and headed through the paddock behind the house. “Let’s go to Tumbledown Creek first. That’ll be the worst.”

  Leaving the ute parked on solid ground, Ben and Louise traipsed through thick mud to where the fence lay flattened from the flood waters. The stench of rotting vegetation mingled with the smell of river mud and dead fish.

  Ben poked at a maggot-filled carcase of a furry creature. “Looks like some animals didn’t make it to higher ground. We’ll need to get rid of all this.”

  Louise followed his instructions and grabbed a couple of sacks from the back of the ute. Pulling on gloves, they set to work to pick up anything that could carry disease to the stock.

  The back of the ute started to fill with debris, including tangles of barbed wire and litter such as plastic bottles that had washed down in the floods. Ben made a pile of branches and other burnable waste. “This’ll have to dry out before we bonfire it in winter.”

  After an hour of hard graft, the paddock started to look more respectable. Louise swigged from her water bottle before offering it to Ben. “We’ll never get this all done this morning.”

  Ben shook his head. “We’ll do what we can. At least if we can repair this part of the fence, we can move the sheep back. I’ll keep working on it this afternoon. Snifter can help me move the cattle.”

  Despite the flood gate near the road being completely stripped away with the force of the water, the fence posts had remained intact. Ben cut away the old wire and wound it up before throwing in on to the growing pile on the ute. “Help me with this new roll, will you?”

  Between them, they fixed the roll of plain wire onto the spinner. Looking at the creek, Ben decided it was too deep to use the stepping stones which normally acted as a crossing place. He kicked off his boots, rolled up his jeans to above his knees, and stepped into the water. He shivered as the icy flow wrapped around his shins. “Pass me the end.”

  Louise handed out the wire as Ben walked across the creek. When he had fastened a loop around the strainer, she cut the length on her side of the crossing. On his signal she handed another strand across. “Won’t the sheep be able to walk underneath when the water level drops?”

  Ben twizzled the ends of the wire tight and pointed to a log on the bank. “We can use that to hang underneath. That’ll block the stock, but float if the water comes back up. I’ll show you in a minute. We need to get a couple of strands of barbed wire across here first.”

  The friends worked to finish the flood gate before stopping for a break. Ben bit into one of the leftover pies that Mrs Naylor had brought home last night. “The volunteers on the levy bank are eating well. Mum and Mrs Smythe-Waters bake all morning.”

  “So they got the homestead kitchen going then?” Louise crunched on an apple, leaning back on one elbow where she sprawled in a dry spot in the shade of one of the big guMs

  “Yeh, you should see it. They’re got a massive wood burning stove, and there’s a walk-in pantry as big as my bedroom.” Ben had helped the women carry in supplies when he was at the homestead to get sand.

  “It seems a shame to let that beautiful old house go to waste. I wish the park people would do it up and use it for something.” Putting her hands behind her head, Louise lay on her back and shut her eyes.

  Ben prodded her with his toe. “Don’t get too comfy. We need to keep going.”

  Rising to their feet, Ben and Louise went back to work, fixing breaks further up the fence where debris from the floods had torn the wires. By the time they had finished and moved the sheep, it was a quarter past twelve.

  After driving the cattle back into their summer paddock, Ben chained up Snifter. “You did a great job, mate. You stay here while I go and see Dad.”

  Retrieving his bicycle from the shed, Ben realised his clothes were filthy so went and changed into smart jeans and a clean T-shirt before heading to Crowhurst. He hadn’t expected to be cycling along his school route again so soon. Normally he enjoyed the ride, watching out for signs of new life in the wedge-tailed eagle’s nest at the long bend in the road, or counting how many blue-tongue lizards he saw basking on the rocks. Today, his thoughts turned inwards to his dad’s accident and his stallion’s injuries.

  Only a few cars were parked in the hospital grounds. Ben couldn’t see Graeme’s four-wheel-drive or his mother’s station wagon. He guessed the rest of his family were still out at the old homestead. He made his way along the main corridor to the men’s ward, trying to ignore the smell of disinfectant and air freshener.

  Mr Naylor had a private room near the nurses’ station. Ben popped his head around the door and saw his father dozing. A big bowl of fruit sat on the bedside cupboard. Ben suddenly thought that maybe he should have brought something with him. Scrabbling in his pocket, he found a few coins. Locating a snack machine, he selected a chocolate bar with nuts. The clang as it fell into the dispensing tray seemed to echo throughout the whole building.

  Ben crept back to his father’s bedside and pulled up a plastic chair. A series of wire pulleys with weights over the end of the bed hung from Mr Naylor’s left leg. A light sheet covered the bottom half of his body. Both his arms lay folded across his chest, one plastered and the other covered in wound dressings.

  Mr Naylor opened his eyes and gingerly turned his head towards Ben. “G’day, son. D’ya get those stock moved?”

  “Yeh. Louise helped me with the fences and the sheep. Snifter and I did the cattle. How’re you feeling?” Ben was glad his father wanted to talk about the farm; he didn’t really know what else to say.

  “What’s it look like? Stupid thing to do. I should’ve known better.” Mr Naylor grimaced and shifted his weight from one hip to the other, using his elbows to reposition himself.

  Ben felt useless watching his father struggle, but didn’t know how to help. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “A new body would be good. ‘Fraid you’re going to be doing more work than usual. The doctors say I won’t be out of here for a while.” Closing his eyes, Mr Naylor sighed.

  To avoid discussing the accident, Ben told his father about how the level of Tumbledown Creek had dropped, and about the damage that he’d repaired. He gave an account of each of the farm dogs, and the stories that John and Graeme had shared over dinner the previous night. He avoided talking about the horses in case it led to a discussion about Brandy.

  Running out of conversation, and only receiving nods and grunts from his father, Ben was relieved when a nurse bustled in to change the bandages on Mr Naylor’s chest and groin. “Mum’ll be here soon, I expect. I’ll head home and feed the dogs. See you tomorrow, Dad.”

  Striding down the long corridor, Ben couldn’t get away fast enough. He hated seeing his father lying helplessly in bed. By the time he reached the car park he was almost running. Thrusting against his bike pedals, he zoomed out of the car park and headed back to Mirraburra. What he needed was a ride.

  Stopping at the farm only long enough to grab a bridle, Ben headed for the bush paddock and caught Snip. He jogged him to the yard and saddled him up without spending much time on grooming him. The keen gelding happily broke into a canter before they reached the old road.

  As they reached the open plains, Ben gave the young horse his head. Leaning over the black’s neck, Ben let the thundering hooves drive away his worries. By the time he pulled up at a creek to give Snip a break, his mood had improved. The early evening breeze brushed lightly across his face.

  He dismounted and splashed water over his head, rubbing his skin dry with his T-shirt. Leading Snip for a while, he listened to the carol of the birds and noticed the lushness of the grass. Thick carpets of flowers gathered around mossy rocks, all the plants growing vigorously from the heavy summer rains. The floods may have caused havoc for people and many animals, but Ben knew that nature welcomed the inundation after the years of drought.

/>   Before he realised how far he had walked, Ben saw the signpost tree rising against the skyline. The signal of branches that Louise had left to tell Harry about his message had been moved. The timber now looked like a figure of eight; Ben realised it must be a ‘B’. Was that for Ben or Brandy? It didn’t matter; he rushed to the rock at the base of the giant dead tree.

  Throwing aside a few stones, Ben saw a package wrapped in cardboard. An envelope had ‘Mr H. G. Macdonald, c/o Goldriver Post Office’ crossed out. Instead, Ben saw his own name written in an elegant script.

  The envelope contained information on how to use the powder in the parcel. Ben read the detailed instructions before folding up the letter and stuffing it into his pocket. The parcel weighed very little. Ben slipped it into his saddle bags and remounted. He wanted to try out the new remedy for Brandy straight away, but knew he’d better wait until the vet had been the next day. With a sudden rush of guilt, Ben realised he was pleased that his father wouldn’t be there to talk to Oliver Giles.

  Chapter 13

  Ben and Louise strolled across the bush paddock to catch the geldings. Louise briefly told her friend about the fight she’d had with her mother for being late, but didn’t mention the threat to sell Honey.

  She listened with growing concern as Ben told her about seeing his father the previous day. “That’s terrible. How long will he be there?”

  Ben shrugged and adjusted the bridles he carried on his shoulder. “At least six weeks in traction, then he’ll transfer to the physio ward. It could be months before he can work again.”

  The dappled light filtering through the trees warmed Louise’s bare arMs She stepped over fallen logs as they navigated amongst the twisted gums, careful to watch out for snakes. “What will you do? School starts again in a few weeks. You can’t run the farm on your own.”

  “John is going to defer college, at least until winter. He says he’s happy to have a break from studying anyway.” Ben kicked at a rock as he brushed a branch out of his way with his forearm. Grabbing the end, he snapped off the brittle end and flung it from him.

  Snifter turned from his exploring and raced after the stick. Louise laughed as she watched the blue heeler bound over the leaf and bark litter. “He thought that was for him. I still can’t believe how agile he is with only three legs.”

  Whistling to his dog, Ben picked up speed. “Yeh. I’ll get Brandy well too, just like I did Snifter. I went out to the signpost tree last night and there was a package from Harry.”

  Excited that the old hermit had answered their note, Louise bubbled with questions. “Did he leave a note? Did he say anything about meeting up with us?”

  “He only wrote instructions for how to use this black powder he left me. I’m going to try it after Oliver leaves today.” Thrusting his hands in his jeans pockets, he stomped on.

  Louise spotted horses grazing in a small clearing. “There they are.”

  Ben instructed Snifter to sit and wait at the edge of the trees while the friends caught the geldings. Once they had the horses secure, he whistled for the dog to catch up. “We’ll have to go back the long way round. We’ll never lead them through that thicket.”

  Bending her knee for a leg up, Louise grasped Ned’s mane. As Ben hoisted her in the air, she groaned as she struggled to swing her right leg over his croup. “I wish I could vault on like you.”

  “You have to use your arms as levers as well as bounce from your feet.” After handing Louise the lead rope of one of the stockhorses, Ben showed her how he sprung onto Snip.

  When they reached the gate, Louise offered to dismount. They walked the four horses through with Snifter preventing the remaining geldings from following. Determined to mount on her own, Louise tried to climb on Ned. She’d get half way across his back before sliding off. “He’s so fat and roly-poly. It’s like crawling on a jelly.”

  “Find a stump to stand on. That’ll help.” Ben laughed as she wriggled like a worm trying to get her leg over the Appaloosa’s spotty rump.

  Using a mossy rock as a mounting block, Louise managed to get on Ned. Settling on his warm back, she grinned at Ben. “I guess I need a bit more practice, but he’s so wide.”

  It didn’t take them long to ride the horses back to Tumbleford Farm. When they returned for the remaining geldings, Louise caught Jake. This time, despite him being taller than Ned, she was able to mount unaided. “It helps he has such a bony withers to hang on to.”

  When they reached the yard, Oliver Giles’ white station wagon was parked next to the stables. As they clopped through the gate, the vet’s head appeared over Brandy’s half door. “I didn’t think you’d be far away, laddie. Where do you want to start? We’ll do this stallion first, shall we?”

  Louise dismounted and held out her hand for Snip’s reins. “I can take them all. You go and start.”

  Leading the four horses to the cattle yards, Louise called Snifter. “You can help me. Keep the others from coming out.”

  The cattle dog drove the yarded geldings to the far side of the enclosure as Louise unlatched the gate. Swinging it wide enough to admit two horses, she pushed them through, leading the other two behind her. Snip decided to go the wrong side of Jake and tangled his lead rope around the other gelding’s neck, but neither of them panicked. “Wait a minute. I’ll sort you out.”

  After releasing the horses, Louise hung up the halters and made her way across to where Ben and the vet studied Brandy’s leg. They had the stallion out in the sun in order to see the wound in better light.

  Oliver cut away the last of the bandage and sponged away the gunk. “It’s starting to grow proud flesh. Don’t worry about that; we’ll cut it off later when he’s had a chance to heal more. There’s no sign of infection, so that’s good.”

  Louise hadn’t seen Brandy’s wound since the day he injured himself. The bright pink flesh looked awful to her, with bare bone still showing down the inside of his lower leg. Dead skin wrinkled around the edges of the cut. “Poor boy. That looks really sore.”

  Ben held the stallion’s headcollar but stood at the side so he could see what Oliver was doing. “He doesn’t seem bothered by it. Do you think he’s cut a nerve and can’t feel it?”

  “Maybe, but he’s a tough horse. These brumbies suffer all types of injuries in the wild and recover remarkably well. Walk him up the drive a bit, laddie, so we can see how he moves without the bandage.”

  Louise stood next to the vet as Ben walked Brandy away from them. The liver chestnut pranced on the end of his lead rope, making it hard to see if he was lame. With his tail held high, he looked in beautiful condition despite his bad leg. “Do you think Ben’ll ever be able to ride him again?”

  Oliver stroked his white beard before answering. “If he keeps going like this, he might be alright, but it’s still early days. I wouldn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. It’s still a terrible injury, and his pastern isn’t healing as well as his leg.”

  The cut below Brandy’s fetlock had swollen, making his leg look the same thickness all the way to his hoof. Louise could see, now that she watched closely, that the horse stepped short with that foot. Not knowing enough to comment, she kept silent as Ben turned Brandy at the front gate and trotted him back.

  The stallion nodded his head as he moved, obviously lame. Oliver held up his hand. “That’s enough. Just walk him back. We’ll leave that wound open for a little while to let it get some air. I’ll re-do the dressing before I go.”

  Ben stroked Brandy’s forelock. “That’s okay, I’ll do it. He’s no trouble.”

  “Alright then, let’s get these geldings done.” Oliver lifted the back door of his car and extracted a gag and his dentistry tools.

  Louise fetched a bucket of clean water. “Are you going to do all their teeth?”

  Ben caught the first of the geldings. “Yeh, and stomach drench them. Dad organised it after
Oliver was here last week. They usually get done once a year.”

  “What’s the drench for?” Louise had heard of stomach drenching but wasn’t sure of its purpose.

  “WorMs It’s more effective than pastes on their tongue ‘cause you know exactly how much they get. The tube goes up their nose and down their throat so the medicine is delivered straight to the stomach.” Ben held Jake’s head as Oliver slipped the gag over the gelding’s muzzle.

  Louise watched, fascinated, as the vet pulled apart the stockhorse’s jaws with the metal gag. “Is that what that thing is for?”

  “This is for doing their teeth. It holds their mouth open.” Ben handed the vet a long-handled rasp and stood back as Oliver filed the sharp edges off Jake’s molars. At first the stockhorse ran backwards, trying to evade the metal instrument. Ben followed without pulling on the horse’s head until he stood still.

  After finishing the gelding’s teeth and removing the gag, Oliver slid a long plastic tube up the horse’s left nostril. He blew in the end before smelling it. “You don’t want to pour wormer into his lungs by mistake. This way I can tell the tube is definitely in his stomach.”

  Louise had never spent time with a vet before. The time flew by as they ministered to all the geldings. The more questions she asked, the more interested she became. She had always thought that she’d like to work with animals when she left school, but had never considered being a veterinarian. The idea took hold—what a great way to help horses and other animals at the same time as earn a living.

  Louise pushed her bike hard on the way home. Having been late the day before, she didn’t dare incur her mother’s wrath again. Fortunately she had already arranged to help when the vet came else she wouldn’t have been allowed to go to Mirraburra that morning. To placate her mother, she had offered to mow the lawns each week for the remainder of the holidays.

  The mellow tones of a bass clarinet drifted to her down the street as Louise neared home. She could tell from her mother’s playing that she was in a good mood. After leaning her bike up on its stand in the garage, she called out a greeting as she went into the kitchen.