by Kate Lattey
The boy – Bayard – didn’t argue. He turned away from me, shutting the gate behind him, and disappeared from view. I heard his boots crunching across the stones as he headed towards the barn, and I started to breathe again. But I knew that I had to get out of there, and fast. I crawled on my stomach along the drain for a few metres, listening to Colin’s excited yaps as they opened the loosebox door and let him out. Only a bit further, then I’d be hidden by the slope of the hill. I kept expecting to hear a shout, to be caught, but I made it. As soon as I was out of their direct line of sight, I got to my feet and ran.
I crossed a few paddocks, my feet moving as fast as they could, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to ride Misty, while another part was still buzzing from the adrenalin, and the memory of how brilliant he’d been to ride.
But if I’d been caught…
It would’ve been worth it.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the thought, but it wouldn’t go away. As I finally reached the road, scrambled over the last fence and collapsed onto the grass verge, I knew that riding Taniwha would never be the same again.
I never intended to do it again. I knew that I’d been lucky to get away with it the first time, and had no plans to go back for another attempt. But when I saw the whole family driving past the cottage the next evening, and I heard Dad saying that he’d heard they were going away for the whole weekend to visit family up north somewhere…well, I couldn’t help myself. I had to at least go and see Misty. I was quickly becoming obsessed with the lively grey pony, and as much as I loved Taniwha, he simply couldn’t measure up.
I waited until it was almost dark, then walked up to the farm. I passed too close to the kennels and set the working dogs off barking when they caught sight of me, but luckily nobody was around to come and see what they were barking at. Still, after that I went the back way so I didn’t disturb them. Just in case.
Misty didn’t want me to catch him at first, but I eventually got close enough to vault onto his back. He was unusually lazy that day, unwilling to do anything other than wander around picking at the grass and occasionally trying to swipe my legs against the fence posts as a not-too-subtle hint that he didn’t much want a rider in the middle of the night. I took the hint, but it didn’t stop me from sneaking back up there the next night. Misty gave up being polite and bucked me off twice, and the time after that, he simply wouldn’t let me anywhere near him. His reluctance only made me more determined, and I snuck back up there at dawn with a couple of soft old carrots as temptation. Misty was a greedy pony, and the carrots persuaded him. I looped a strand of baling twine around his solid neck to help me control him, but it wasn’t very effective, as Misty just did whatever he liked, regardless of what I was asking of him.
I didn’t care. Riding him was a thrill in itself, and his unpredictability was all part of the appeal. The family returned home, but I continued sneaking up there whenever I saw them all leave the property. I felt bad about it, knowing that I was doing something that I shouldn’t, but I was hooked.
On my fifth ride, I aimed him at a low jump that was set up in the paddock, and he jumped so high over it that I was catapulted into the air and flew off over his shoulder. Somehow I landed on my feet, and Misty stopped and stared at me in surprise. He seemed to be impressed – I know I was. I only wish someone had been there to get it on camera.
On the sixth ride, Misty allowed me to use the rope around his neck for steering, and I convinced him to trot and canter in a circle, which I thought was a pretty decent achievement.
Then on the seventh ride, I got careless…and I got caught.
I’d seen the family’s Land Rover driving out down the road that morning, with Tess sitting in the back and Hayley in the front seat next to their mum. I knew that John was out fencing on the back block, so I thought that although it was broad daylight, I might just have a chance at sneaking in a quick ride. I’d been getting away with it, and my success had made me foolhardy.
I had just jumped Misty over the log again, staying on his back this time despite the bucks that he threw in after we landed, and was cantering him back across the paddock when I saw Hayley standing at the gate, watching me. And there was no mistaking the expression on her face – she was absolutely livid.
She stared at me for a second longer, then turned her head and yelled in the direction of the house.
“MUUUUUUM!”
I was seriously tempted to jump off Misty and run in the other direction, but I knew that I had to face up to what I’d done. I pulled Misty up as swiftly as I could, dismounting while he was still trotting, and he came to an abrupt halt next to me, giving me a curious look. Despite his initial reluctance, I thought he’d come to enjoy our secret rides, and as I slipped the rope off his neck and headed towards the gate, I hoped that he might prove his devotion to me by shadowing me across the paddock. But he simply went back to grazing, our ride forgotten as soon as it was over.
Meanwhile Hayley had stormed through the gate and was charging at me like a bull towards a red flag.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Didn’t I tell you that you could never ride my pony?!”
Misty threw his head up in alarm, snorted and spun around, then cantered to the other end of the paddock with his tail in the air.
Hayley was still going. “Look at him! You’ve got him all rarked up now, and he’s got a show tomorrow! What the hell made you think you could just come and ride my pony without permission? If you did anything to hurt him, I’ll kill you!”
I had stopped walking, and I lifted my hands in surrender, backing up as she came closer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm, I just…”
My voice trailed off, at a loss for words. How could I explain myself? I had no excuse for what I’d done. I saw Tess at the gate, her mother coming up behind her, and then my heart seemed to freeze in my chest at the sight of the old red farm ute bouncing across the flat paddock just beyond the barn. Of all the people I didn’t want to face right now, John was right at the top of the list. His good opinion still meant the world to me, and I knew that I’d well and truly blown it by this point. I could feel my knees start to tremble as Hayley and her mother converged on me, although Tess stayed at the gate, watching with wide eyes.
I was in the middle of being screamed at by his wife and daughter together when John came on the scene. He put a hand on Hayley’s shoulder, and spoke firmly.
“That’s enough, Hayley.”
His daughter spun around to face him, her eyes fierce. “Do you know what he did? What I just caught him doing?”
“Tess filled me in.” John lifted a hand at his wife as she started to interject, then faced me, his expression stony. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I shook my head mutely. I was shaking from head to foot, wishing I’d never had the stupid idea to ride Misty, dreading what was going to come next. John stared down at me for a moment longer through narrowed eyes, and Carmen launched into a tirade against my family abusing the charity we’d been shown, and how it was time we were moved along and the cottage bowled to the ground. I broke out into a fresh sweat, panicking at the thought. If we lost the cottage, we had nowhere to go. Worse, it would be my fault that we’d be homeless again, and I wondered how I would admit that to my family. I couldn’t even begin to imagine it, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I’d rather die than let them down like that.
John must have seen something of the panic in my eyes, because he didn’t evict us, much to his wife’s disgust. But he did tell me, in no uncertain terms, that we were hanging on by a very thin thread.
“You’ve used up your last chance, and from now on, I don’t want to see hide or hair of you on my property, other than down by that cottage, you understand? And if I catch you up here again…”
John paused, as though thinking how best to threaten me, but I didn’t wait to find out what he decided on. I just turned aro
und and ran.
PART IV
-
POTENTIAL
Hard work beats talent
when talent doesn’t work hard.
- Kevin Durant
OLD FRIENDS
“Phoebe! Would you stop crying for one minute so I can clean this mess up?”
I came into the house that morning to find anarchy. Phoebe had dropped her glass of juice, and the orange liquid was pooling on the uneven floor among shards of broken glass. She was sobbing as Mum tried to clean it up, and as I entered the room, Bella got up from the table and went into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.
“Settle down Phoebs,” I told her. “No use crying over spilt juice.”
She didn’t get the joke, but when I sat down and beckoned her towards me, she came over and climbed up into my lap. I gave her a quick cuddle, drying her tears on my t-shirt as Mum carefully picked up the biggest bits of glass and put them in the sink.
“Eat your toast, Phoebe,” Mum told her, and I sat her down on the chair next to mine and pushed a plate of cold toast and vegemite in her direction.
Phoebe pulled a face, so I threatened to eat it for her, taking a bite out of one corner of the toast before she snatched it from my hand and started scarfing it down.
“Jonty, have you had breakfast?” Mum asked me. “What time is it?”
I stood up and stepped around her as she wiped up the sticky mess on the floor.
“Almost eight,” I told her, and Mum swore as she stood up.
“You’re not allowed to say that word!” Phoebe reminded her through a mouthful of toast.
Mum ignored her. “Bella! Get your things ready, we’re late. Where’s Morgan?”
“Out the back,” I told her, throwing open the back door and yelling to my sister to come inside. She was lying on Taniwha’s back, facing backwards with her chin resting on his rump, her nose buried in a book. “Oi, Morgan! Leave my poor pony alone and come inside.”
Morgan stuck her tongue out at me, but she closed her book and sat up. Tani carried on grazing as she slid to the ground and came up to the back door.
“He’s a pony, not a couch, you know,” I told her as she reached me.
She shrugged. “He’s warm. And he doesn’t mind.”
Mum was herding the three of them out of the front door.
“Don’t miss your bus,” she reminded me as Phoebe ran back inside to get something she’d forgotten.
“I won’t.”
A stock truck rumbled up the road behind her, leaving a cloud of dust and the scent of sheep in its wake. Mum had half-closed the door behind her, but she pushed it open again with an anxious look.
“Jonty, can you wake your father up? He’s supposed to be up at the farm this morning and if he doesn’t get a move on he’ll be late.”
I glanced dubiously at their closed bedroom door, then back at her. “He can’t still be asleep in there. Not with all that racket that Phoebe’s been making.”
“That man could sleep through the end of the world, if he was…” Mum broke off, and shook her head. “Just do it, would you?”
She left, and I sighed as I put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, then went and banged on their bedroom door. It rattled on its loose hinges, but I got no response, so I banged again.
“Dad! Mum says you gotta get up.”
Still nothing. I opened the door and looked in. Dad was still in bed, face down, snoring. My heart sank, my suspicions confirmed. He’d come in late last night, stumbling past the couch that I slept on, and I’d stirred briefly as I heard him go into their bedroom. He’d shut the door behind him, and I’d drifted back to sleep.
Now I walked across the bedroom and put a hand on Dad’s shoulder, then shook him hard, wrinkling my nose at the smell of sweat and stale whiskey.
“Oi! Bloody gerrof me.” Dad flung an arm out in my direction, but I sidestepped, letting him go.
“Get up Dad, you’re late.”
He opened his eyes and blinked at me. “For what?”
“You’re supposed to be up at the farm this morning,” I reminded him. “And it’s already eight o’clock.”
“Piss off,” Dad muttered, turning his head away from me.
I clenched my fists by my sides, frustrated. “You have to go. They’re counting on you.”
“Bloody well aren’t. They don’t need me there, it’s all a joke. That bloke just likes making me go up there and chase his stupid sheep around so he can have a laugh at my expense. But I’m bloody done with it. He can chase his own damn sheep.”
“C’mon Dad, that’s not true,” I said, and my father propped himself up on his elbows and looked at me through blurry eyes.
“Course it is. We’re a joke to them, son. He’s got dogs to chase the sheep with but he makes me do it. If that’s not being made a goddamn fool of, then I don’t know what is.”
I took a deep breath, then let it out.
“You’re the one who’s making a fool of us,” I told him. “All of us. He’s given us a place to live, he’s given you work…”
“Work I don’t get paid for,” Dad interjected.
“We live in a house you don’t pay rent for!” I argued. “What happens if you don’t go and he gets mad and kicks us out? What then? Where else are we going to go?”
Dad just shrugged and lay back down. “Somewhere better than this. Piss off boy, I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“Good. Serves you bloody well right.”
I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could. The kitchen smelled like burnt toast, and just as I’d pulled the charred bread out of the toaster, a horn tooted out on the road. It was the school bus, and I was going to be late.
I hiffed the toast out of the window for the birds – or Taniwha, whichever got to it first – then grabbed my bag and went outside. It was a beautiful day, one of those clear, crisp mornings where everything is in sharp detail and it feels like you can see forever. I stared up the road towards the farm, wishing more than anything that I could go and do what my father refused to. What better way to spend a day than outside under a blue sky, working with animals, making a difference? But here I was about to go sit behind a desk all day and try not to lose my mind. I thought about all of the people who sat behind desks for a living, day in and day out, and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would never be one of them.
I crossed the yard and jumped onto the lower step of the bus, then paused, still torn up with temptation. Joanie looked down at me impatiently, pudgy elbows resting on the bottom of the steering wheel, the sunlight glinting off her large hoop earrings.
“You coming or not?”
I rocked back onto my heels, then jumped backwards, my feet landing on the dirt road with a satisfying crunch of gravel.
“Nah. Not today.”
Joanie raised her eyebrows. “Careful I don’t report you to the truant officer.”
I gave her my most charming smile. “You wouldn’t do that,” I assured her. “My dad’s not feeling well, I reckon I better keep an eye on him. Least ‘til Mum gets home. She can run me into school later, if Dad’s feeling better.”
Joanie rolled her eyes.
“He’s not worth the effort,” she told me as she pushed the button to close the bus door.
I shrugged and turned away, wondering if there was anyone in town who didn’t know that my dad was a drunk. The bus drove away, and I caught a glimpse of Tess’s face in the window before it disappeared in a cloud of dust. I let it go without regret, instead looking up the road towards the farm. Anticipation bubbled up inside me, and I ran back into the house and hid my schoolbag where Mum wouldn’t see it when she got back, then changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and pulled on my cracked boots. Dad was still snoring as I shut the front door behind me and headed towards the farm.
At the very least, I wanted to tell John that Dad wouldn’t be coming up to help him today. If I didn’t, then Mum would feel obliged to wh
en she got back, and I didn’t want to put her through that. Bad enough that she’d have to come home and deal with Dad being grumpy and hung over all day. And in the back of my mind was a determined hope that I’d be allowed to stick around and help with the stock; that John would be so short-handed that he’d need someone willing to get their hands dirty and would be willing to let me replace my father for the day. I knew I could do a better job than my father. All I needed was to be given a chance, and I crossed and uncrossed my fingers several times as I walked.
I could hear the sheep before I reached the yards, their combined bleating carrying clearly through the crisp morning air. They were packed up tight against each other while larger mobs mingled anxiously in the holding pens, and still more came trickling down the hills in steady lines behind the woolshed, followed by men on foot or horseback. Working dogs ran up and down the steep hillsides, keeping the sheep moving, responding immediately to the shepherds’ shouts and piercing whistles.
John was standing outside the woolshed, talking to a tall man with dark hair who had his back to me. He caught sight of me and broke off his conversation mid-sentence, a slow frown settling on his face. I paused mid-stride, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake, before the other man turned around and saw me. It was Bruce.
“Well well, look what the cat dragged in,” he greeted me with a smile. “How’re you doing Jonty?”
“Good, thanks,” I said quickly, relieved that he remembered me. “You?”
Bruce shrugged. “We’re getting by. I’d heard you were living around here now. Keep expecting you to turn up at our place wanting hay, but it hasn’t happened yet. Still got that little black pony?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m a bit big for him now though.”
“Yeah, you’ve grown a bit since I last saw you,” Bruce agreed.
Our conversation stalled there, as I couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. I glanced at John, who was listening to our conversation without comment, his arms folded across his broad chest and expression unreadable.