Du Rose Family Ties

by Bowes, K T

  At the top of a rise, the white mare stopped dead, her body becoming rigid as a statue’s and Hana halted in concern. The majestic head lifted, eyes burning bright and ears pointing forward. She’d never looked more beautiful and Hana felt a lump rise into her throat. Logan chuckled. “She’s been desperate to get up here; I’m surprised she didn’t jump the fence before now.”

  The ridge opened out before them and Hana gasped at the splendor of the mountain as it spread before her. Dense bush huddled on both sides of a lush green valley, the colours spectacular in the mist. Nature had created the perfect fairway and a divine paintbrush had dabbed a group of horses into the centre, spread out and grazing. Hana felt Sacha’s breath on her arm as the mare clattered onto the ridge, exuding power in the bunched muscles. She reached out and touched the corded tendons across the furry shoulder and felt the electrical pulse go through the horse as she spotted the group. Sacha lifted her head and emitted an ear splitting whinny which echoed out across the landscape. Twelve white heads rose in reply and the answering call came back, loud and challenging.

  Sacha repeated her deafening introduction and Hana heard a series of angry snorts from the valley floor. A powerful body pushed through the gathering throng and faced the ridge, head high and feet planted in a perfect square. Hana’s brow knitted in confusion at the charcoal markings on the creamy white body and she looked to Logan for confirmation. “That’s not the little foal I named a few years ago, is it?” The spidery body and too-long legs had formed into tree trunk proportions and the shoulder muscles on the animal bore testament to the rough terrain he roamed. The dappled patches spotted his legs and stomach like dark dabs of a paint brush.

  Logan’s face lit up in pleasure. “Yeah. That’s Du Rose le Prochain. Remember? Du Rose Future. He’s got enough Appaloosa to be decent natured and the Station Bred in him makes him hardy.”

  “Sacha’s tiny foal. I remember. He’s stunning.”

  “Sure is. By pure accident we’ve bred one of the best sires we’ll ever have, I reckon. Toby split that group of colts from Methuselah’s last spring and we’re running this bachelor herd for a year or so. They’ll work out how to behave between them.” Logan laughed and Hana imagined the bawdy conversations on the subject back at the stable yard. Her husband fixed his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his armpit. “I trained him enough to manage him when he’s brought back to the stables for checks. He’s worth more as a stallion than a work horse, although he could be either. I’ve ridden him and I’d trust him to an extent. I thought you’d like to see him; seeing as you gave him the cool name.” Logan blinked, dark lashes stroking his cheeks. “Must’ve been prophetic because his future is brilliant and ours too. That foal’s smart, pretty and already better than any we’ve had out of Methuselah. I’ll take orders from other breeders once we’ve picked mares for him and worked the first lot through our own system.”

  Hana turned and placed a cool hand against the hard equine shoulder next to her. “Hear that, Sacha? Your boy’s a winner.”

  The mare turned glassy eyes towards her and snorted, her movements jerky with excitement. Logan reached around and patted the white rump, his fingers lingering on a lighter grey patch. “Say goodbye, Hana,” he said, his smile sad.

  “What do you mean?” Hana heard the panic in her voice and Logan gripped her shoulders.

  “I’m putting her out to grass with Methuselah’s herd, babe.”

  “You can’t!” Her eyes widened in horror and she put out a hand and wrapped her fingers through the wiry mane. Her lip curled back in horror, seeing the flash of irritation in Logan’s eyes.

  “Nobody trusts her after she killed Jack. We know she’s fine but I can’t get anyone else to go near her. Superstitions are flying around like confetti and I think a break would be good; for her and everyone else in the stable yard.”

  “It’s because of Lincoln Haines, isn’t it?” Hana spat, balling her hands in temper. “He hates her.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t like her, that’s true. But she doesn’t do herself any favours either.” Logan’s fingers scratched the dappled rump and Sacha’s ears twitched, her body fixated on the approaching group as they edged towards the bottom of the ridge.

  “It’s your business, not his!” Hana raged, her eyes filling with hot, angry tears. “You make the decisions!”

  “And I have.” Logan turned Hana to face him and lifted her head with his finger beneath her chin. “I decided now was a good time to repeat the happy accident and I borrowed Nev’s stallion and put them together again.” His lips quirked upwards as he teased her. “She’s like you; needs a strong male to control her and she likes him. Must’ve been in season within about five minutes and it worked; she’s in foal.”

  Hana’s brow furrowed with her own selfish sense of loss. “Who will I ride now? I can’t trust the others not to dump me off.”

  Logan reached down and brushed her cheek with soft lips. “I’ll sort it out,” he promised. “But we’re going to Hamilton for three months, anyway. By the time we get back you’ll see she’s pregnant and you won’t wanna ride her. It’s exciting, babe. If I get another foal like her last, I’ll be ecstatic.” He glanced back at the mare with fondness. “Reuben owned that old hack of Nev’s for years; he took it off some dude as payment of a debt. It used to take him home across country when he got too drunk to find his way back from the tavern and I assumed it was gelded.”

  “Apparently not,” Hana mused.

  “Yep. Looks like shit but mix its genetics with Sacha’s and you get something spectacular.” Logan stared down at the majestic horse pushing out from the tight herd below, curiosity budding in its mismatched eyes; Sacha’s eyes.

  “Reuben’s horse?” Hana cocked her head, feeling the old misery surface and the memory of the house fire which killed Logan’s mother and birth father licking at her inner vision.

  Logan nodded. “I knew his horse sired the foal, but I didn’t know back then Reuben fathered me. The name you gave the foal stuck in my head. When you think what we’ve achieved since the fire, it’s incredible. The Du Roses do have a future now. The mountain’s reunited and the two halves of the family interact like we haven’t been able to for over forty years. I’ve gained half-brothers, nephews and a sense of peace I never knew possible. We’ve got Phoe, Mac and Tama. Du Rose le Prochain. I don’t think there was a better name.”

  Hana nodded in acknowledgement of her husband’s success. Her fingers strayed to Sacha’s furry coat next to her. “Where’s Methuselah?” she asked, peering down at the furry band of brothers below the supplejack covered ridge. Sacha whinnied again.

  “This way.” Logan took her hand and led her to the left, navigating punga and following a well-trodden path as the bush area began as low-lying supplejack and increased in density either side. Sacha whinnied to the boys again and Hana stopped at the answering call. Logan tugged on her fingers, whistling to his mare. Snorting in a sharp sound of irritation she followed, picking her way behind on heavy footsteps. Fifteen minutes later, the ground opened out before them in a lush green landscape dotted with craggy rocks thrown from the mountain by a giant hand. Hana recognised the view from her visit with Logan when he delivered hay to the small herd and she raked the area for a glimpse of Alfred’s favoured horse.

  Sacha scented them even before they moved into view, grazing in a spread out group on the other side of a low outcrop. The post and rail fences looked higher than elsewhere on the property, designed to keep the bachelor stallions separate from established herds and prevent fighting. Dense bush and double height fencing contained the colts, their position downwind blinding them to the presence of the group of luscious mares. Hana spied Methuselah as he grazed into view, nibbling the grass shoots and tearing them in short, jerky movements. “He’s getting old,” she said with a sigh. Like Alfred, her mind told her.

  “He’s good for a few more seasons,” Logan said, resting his forearm on the top of the sturdy gate. He sniffed the air.
“Spring’s coming. Can you smell it?”

  “No.” Hana sniffed and shook her head, cringing with a sense of foolishness and displacement. “Will Sacha be safe with Methuselah?”

  Logan snorted. “Sacha will be safe anywhere. She’ll take charge, like she always does. He’ll be doing as he’s told soon enough.”

  Sacha sent out a deafening call and the grazing heads rose. The tiniest members of the herd gathered into a tight knot and circled the nearest of the females like surging water. Methuselah’s giant head rose, his shoulders bunching in challenge. Logan put his fingers into his mouth and mimicked the whistle Alfred made to summon his mount. Fooled, the old stallion flicked his ears and trotted forward. The mares walked behind him, keeping their distance but their heads moved as they searched the occupants at the high gate. “Going back home to Mum and Dad,” Logan said, slapping Sacha’s muscular neck. She let out a low whicker as her sire whirled in the dust before the gate. He tossed his head and sniffed the air, seeking confirmation of her identity before deciding if he would permit her reentry into his family.

  “Do they remember each other?” Hana asked and Logan shrugged.

  “Some definitely do and there’s a real sense of reunion. Others don’t seem to care.”

  “What about people? Do they remember us from one year to the next?”

  Logan wrinkled his nose. “Harder to say. Again, some do. Sacha remembers me no matter how long I stay away. Methuselah knows me and Alfred, but the biggest recognition comes when you mount up. They’ll recognise a rider based on how they interact; whether they yank their reins or kick too hard. They respond to confidence and I figure that’s what they remember most; feeling safe with a rider. Riding’s like plugging into a horse and creating a continuous current. I think that’s where the communication and the relationship happens best.”

  “Sacha’s special, isn’t she?” Hana chewed her lip as Logan used a numbered code to open the gate. Sacha’s eyes grew wide and Hana stepped back as the mare pushed through the gap and into the paddock, meeting her sire with an arrogant snort. Logan grinned.

  “Yeah, she is. Le Prochain’s just like her too. He’s the male version of pissy and difficult but like his dam, he does it with a twinkle in his eye. Toby couldn’t break him in; he gave up.” A sense of victory played in Logan’s grey eyes. “Fantastic to watch.”

  They quieted as Methuselah approached Sacha. Hana gripped Logan’s fingers and tensed, knowing the old stallion could damage the mare if he decided he didn’t want her back in his herd. Logan appeared calm and unworried, licking his lips and watching the scene with curiosity. Sacha raked the ground with an unshod front hoof and tossed her mane in defiance. Methuselah snorted and his brown eyes held intensity as he edged towards her, scenting the air from her nostrils with a series of short sniffs. He filled his lungs with the newcomer’s essence. Both horses appeared on edge, jerking and dancing on light feet, ready to run or attack if some unseen thing changed. Their movements were defensive and anticipatory as the horses checked each other out. Methuselah kept his head down in a peculiar equine hongi as his eyes raked the mare’s and he sniffed the puffs of air escaping her nostrils.

  Sacha let out a high pitched squeal as the old horse lipped at her cheek and Hana panicked, fearful he might bite. Logan laughed and closed the gate, connecting the metal parts of the lock together and turning his back on the dancing hooves and tossing manes. Hana peered around him as he tried to steer her away from the gate. “But what if he hurts her?”

  “They’ll sort it out.”

  “But she’s pregnant.” Hana braced herself against Logan’s imposing chest, feeling the muscle resist her palms. He caught her wrists and pulled her arms around his waist, pinning her in an embrace.

  “And she’ll be fine, Hana. She’s from this group. They’ll stamp and fuss and by tonight it’ll be like she never left. Don’t worry about her.” He glanced back at the two prized horses. Sacha put her nose in the air and her tail rose like a flag behind her. She resembled a snooty teenager as she shook her head and set off towards the mares at a lazy trot. They shuffled position amongst themselves, eager and afraid. With an indignant snort, Methuselah set off behind her. “Watch yer face, man!” Logan called out in warning. The old stallion bent his majestic neck and bared his teeth, ears flat to his head as he attempted to nip at Sacha’s hocks. She felt his breath on her flesh and Hana’s chest froze mid-inhale as she watched the powerful muscles bunch in the thighs and flank of the white horse.

  With a quick flick of her back feet, Sacha lashed out in a cow-like movement, missing the stallion’s muzzle by a whisker. The old male shrieked in protest and his daughter gave another smaller buck as though to let him know she didn’t care for his rebuke. The other mares received her entrance as she slipped and slid down the rocky path, gathering with a mix of fear and curiosity. Hana winced and exhaled, seeing Methuselah sulk and snake his neck in spite towards another mare on the herd’s periphery before making his way back to the unpredictable Rahab.

  “Come.” Logan turned Hana before him and pushed her along the bush track towards the bachelor herd further down the mountain and the quad bike beyond that. “My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” he complained. “My wife didn’t bring me lunch.”

  “I’m raising three children! I can’t always get away.” Hana pursed her lips and blew out warm breaths, desperate to smell the tempting scent of approaching spring which Logan described so often. Spores and pollens rose from the bush as though the foliage appealed to the sunshine to stay high and lit for longer each day. Hana regretted how far away her God felt of late. She wondered if he took part in the smallest details of every change of season still and if the action of nursing winter into spring got old and dull with repetition.

  She dug her heels in and locked her calves, surprising herself with the suddenness of her rebellion. “No!” She spun to face Logan, almost bowled over by his mass on the downhill. “I want to discuss why you lied about Lincoln Haines!”

  Chapter 16

  Lies by Omission

  “Ah yep.” Logan didn’t bother defending himself. He lifted his chin and straightened his torso, dwarfing Hana with intention and fixing calm grey eyes on her face. “Can we keep walking?”

  Hana turned with gritted teeth, gravity giving her little choice as it pulled her towards the hotel in the valley. She stumbled ahead of her husband, wondering if he grappled behind her with ready excuses. She paused at the ridge above Le Prochain’s bachelor herd and watched them at play. Excited by the momentary visit of a mare, they skipped and flitted like foals, mounting one another and squealing in angry protest. Bucking and kicking they dodged flailing hooves with exceptional skill, learning the life lessons they’d need to coexist with temperamental females. Logan’s lips quirked upward in a sad smile and Hana remembered his childhood stories of the formidable female Māori elders. They terrified their male kin; when his mother yelled they all ran, including his father. The colts seemed to mimic that sentiment with their high jinks.

  “I want to know now!” Hana demanded as her boot heels touched the soft grass in Sacha’s former paddock. She rounded on her husband and body blocked him as he finished closing the gate; a tiny twig in the way of a gathering tornado.

  “Yeah,” he replied, sighing as though being pestered by an irritating child. “Who’s the big mouth?”

  Hana opened her lips and then closed them again, halting her instinctive betrayal of Leslie. “Just tell me!” she snapped.

  Logan walked across the paddock, heading for the quad bike outside the gate. He didn’t slow his lengthy stride and forced Hana to trot to keep up. “It’s no big deal,” he began and Hana let the angry snarl escape.

  “Then why not be honest? Why keep it a secret if it’s no big deal? Or am I reduced to the level of an employee again?”

  “You were never just an employee!” Logan exploded. “Don’t start the hard-done-by thing with me, Hana. I thought we’d got through that.”
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br />   “Yeah, well, I thought secrets were a thing of the past too. Stupid of me, hey?”

  “It wasn’t a secret.” Logan’s hands felt warm on Hana’s shoulders, pinning her in place. “And it’s no big deal. Trust me.”

  “No!” Hana’s lips turned down into a grimace. “Whenever you say I have to trust you; I know there’s reason for me not to.”

  Logan put his head back and laughed. “Yeah. I deserved that.” He pulled her into his armpit and turned them both to walk downhill, not letting her go despite her futile wriggles.

  “Are you going to tell me or will I ask Leslie the whole story and just not speak to you again?” Hana demanded as Logan closed the final gate.

  “Leslie!” He snuffed out his mother-in-law’s name with an air of disgust. “Should’ve guessed.”

  Hana chewed her lip, green eyes widening with guilt. “Don’t you blame her!” She glared at her husband. “If you can’t be bothered to tell me the truth, I’ll have to get it elsewhere. You leave me no choice.”

  Logan’s lips twitched and he fought an inappropriate smile. “Even if what you get bears no resemblance to the truth?”

  Hana huffed and puffed but couldn’t refute his claim, left with the dregs of half-truth and gossip in place of hard facts. “I heard Linc got out of prison a few months ago after serving a jail term for killing a woman. It made me think of what happened with the old stable manager.”

  “Jack,” Logan said, his voice soft. “My grandfather. He was in his nineties, Hana and lost the plot. His mind took him back in time to some other circumstance and I believe he thought you were Antoinette, messing with the blonde drover my grandmother wrote about in her diary. He’d started calling me Reuben towards the end and I assumed it was forgetfulness. It’s possible he really believed I was my father.”