by Mark Smith
She’s quiet again until she says, ‘What do you think’s happened back in the valley, after we went?’
‘Who knows? I only hope Harry and Stella are all right. They were good to me.’
‘Maybe Ramage’ll be more worried about chasing us than hassling them. It’s us he wants.’
I peer out into the dark. ‘I’m not sure that’s so great. We’ve got a head start on them, but they know the country better than we do.’
Kas lifts Willow off her lap and eases her between us. Then we lie down and snuggle in as close as we can.
‘Thanks,’ Kas says.
‘For what?’
‘For helping Rose.’
As exhausted as I am, sleep is nearly impossible. The wind picks up and pushes harder through the treetops, its gusts filling the overhang with the sounds of the bush. I wake a dozen times throughout the night, each time taking a few seconds to work out where I am. It’s freezing. Despite the bracken, the cold still pushes up through the earth underneath us. Willow snuggles in closer, burying her face in my jumper. Kas reaches her arm over and hold us both. I do the same and feel the skin of her shoulder. It’s cold and smooth and soft.
It’s not a great feeling, waking up in the morning cold and hungry. When I open my eyes, Kas’s face is only inches away. Her lips are moving, like she’s having a conversation in her sleep. Her eyes spring open and there’s an awkward moment when we breathe each other’s breath. Her eyes are deeper and darker than Rose’s—if that’s even possible.
We both roll away, leaving Willow to sleep. It’s barely light, but the birds are filling the forest with their songs. Kas goes to check on Yogi while I head off in the other direction for a piss.
When I come back Kas laughs.
‘You’re walking a little bow-legged there, cowboy,’ she says.
The insides of my thighs are tender from riding Yogi, even if it was only for a few minutes.
‘I think it was the jumping,’ I say. ‘You nearly lost me there, you know.’
‘I’m not used to jumping bareback, but Yogi knew what he was doing. He’s had a cold night. He’s a tough old bugger, though.’
‘We’d better get moving,’ I say. ‘We’ve got to find a way up to the top. Get to that old logging track Harry told me about. It’ll take us to Pinchgut Junction and from there we can make the coast in a few hours. We could be home by tonight.’
‘We’re going to need food,’ Kas says. ‘And water. For us and for Yogi.’
Willow is awake now and standing under the overhang. She looks at us warily. ‘Are we going home today, Finn?’ she asks.
‘Not yet,’ I reply. ‘But soon, okay?’
By the time we start moving, low cloud has rolled in and blanketed the cliffs above us. But once the sun comes up the bush begins to warm. Steam evaporates off the rock faces and the clouds lift from the cliff tops. The crags aren’t as steep here; they taper more gently up to the ridge. Further along, the rocks give way to a gully filled with mountain ash and tree ferns.
The ground is softer too, and I can hear water trickling under the lower ferns. We climb down as best we can, slipping and sliding as we get closer to the water. Finally we reach a break in the ferns where the creek flows between moss-covered banks. The ground is boggy and Yogi’s hooves sink under his weight, but he steps out into the stream and stands in the water.
The three of us move upstream of him and lie on our bellies to drink. The water is cold but refreshing. I splash it up on my face and over my hair. Kas has taken her boots off and has her feet dangling in the water. She smiles. The sun filters down through the fern fronds and I find a spot to sit in its warmth. Willow comes and joins me. Her hands ferret in my pockets and pull out the last of the breadcrumbs.
Kas has headed further upstream, where she takes off her jumper, then peels her top up over her head. With her back to me, I can see the knobs of her vertebrae like buttons down the middle of her back as she leans over and splashes her arms and chest with water.
‘Nice spot for a picnic,’ she says when she’s back, dressed again.
‘Excellent,’ I say, putting on a toffy voice. Willow smiles for the first time this morning.
‘I’ve cut some sandwiches,’ Kas says, dropping her hands into an imaginary basket. ‘Now, Miss Willow, I have peanut butter, jam or cucumber.’
‘What’s peanut butter,’ she says. ‘Butter comes from cows.’
Kas and I glance at each other.
‘I remember peanut butter,’ I say. ‘I was a crunchy man, myself.’
‘Smooth for me,’ Kas says.
Willow looks at us like we’re speaking a foreign language. Kas hands her an imaginary sandwich.
‘Is this blackberry or raspberry jam?’ Willow asks, playing along now.
‘Which one do you like best?’ Kas asks.
‘Blackberry!’
‘Then blackberry it is.’
Willow takes a big bite and pretends to chew.
‘Scrumptious,’ she says, and we all laugh.
But the game falls away quickly. We are going to struggle without food. Kas leads Yogi out of the stream. I figure if we follow the water we might be lucky and find our way to the top.
It’s slow going. The mud sucks at our boots and Yogi has to duck under the low-hanging branches and ferns. Eventually the banks give way to rock again, and we are able to climb out onto slabs that aren’t too steep.
Kas keeps to the edges with Yogi while Willow and I scout ahead for the best route. We are a good twenty metres above Kas when I look back to see her pulling in vain on Yogi’s reins. He has come as far as he can in the steep terrain. He’s a lather of sweat again, digging in his front hooves and leaning back against Kas’s efforts.
‘Stay there, Kas,’ I yell. ‘Let him rest. I’m going to see how far it is to the top.’
I’m able to move fast, and before long the rock slabs grow wider and the bush thins out on either side. The forest opens out into an old logging coup with a track winding its way up to the very top of the ridge. Over in one corner I can see a pile of logs and a flatbed truck almost completely overgrown by weeds and vines.
When I go back and tell Kas what I’ve found, her face brightens.
‘I don’t think Yogi will make it, though,’ I say. ‘It’s really steep and slippery. We might have to let him go, Kas.’
She steps out onto the slab and surveys the incline, then heads off to get Yogi.
‘He won’t make it,’ I call after her. ‘He’s got no grip on the rocks. You can’t lead him up.’
‘Watch me,’ she says defiantly.
Before I can say anything more, she has swung herself up onto Yogi’s back. Straightaway she drops the reins low on either side of his neck, leans forward and reassures him with long, steady pats.
This is mad, I think, especially when we are so close to making it to the top. I can’t let her do it.
I reach out to grab the reins, but she checks Yogi and backs away.
‘Finn,’ she says, calmly. ‘Take Willow and show me the best route. I’m going to watch from here.’
‘Have I got a choice?’ I ask.
‘No.’
I take Willow’s hand and retrace my steps up the sloping rocks. Every now and again I turn and call to Kas, while at the same time laying fallen branches out on the rock shelf, marking the route.
Finally I lay one across the path where they need to turn into the bush, but it’ll be a miracle if they make it this far. It’s steeper than I thought.
‘Careful,’ I yell and I see Kas wave. Willow and I move out onto the rock shelf to watch.
Kas starts to climb, gently urging Yogi up the slab and shifting her weight to keep them both balanced. They start off okay, but halfway up they come to a mossy section and I see Kas hesitate. Her eyes dart back and forth across the rock, searching for the best route. She gives the slightest nudge to Yogi’s flanks and he edges forwards. Half-a-dozen times his hooves begin to slip, but she corrects him bef
ore he has time to panic.
They’re soon within a few steps of the turn into the bush, though they still have a gap of close to a metre to negotiate where a crack splits the rock. Willow and I are just above them now.
I can hear Kas soothing Yogi. ‘Last little bit, boy. If we can get over here we’re home free. We’ll be in the bush and it’ll all be over. I promise.’
The sweat is dripping off Yogi and his muscles quiver. Now that she’s closer, I can see that Kas is sweating too. She wipes her hands on her pants and steadies herself again.
In one quick movement she lunges, taking Yogi with her. She tries to turn him into the bush, but he barely gets his front legs up before he starts to slip. His back legs splay as he slides slowly towards the drop. In one movement, Kas throws herself forwards, lifting the reins over Yogi’s head and landing on the rock above him. She holds the reins tight and braces herself. Yogi’s eyes are wide with terror.
Quietly, without any hint of panic in her voice, Kas says, ‘Finn, move towards me. Slow. Don’t spook him or he’s gone.’
I edge down the rock until I’m beside her.
‘Now,’ she whispers, ‘take the reins and keep them taut. When I say, pull with everything you’ve got.’
She starts to inch her way along Yogi’s flank, stroking him all the way down to his back legs. She makes a soothing ticking noise with her tongue.
‘You ready, Finn?’ she says. ‘Don’t pull suddenly, just increase the pressure.’
‘Now?’ I say.
‘Now.’
Kas has disappeared from view behind Yogi. I begin to pull, feeling his whole weight against me. I hear his hooves skitter, but I soon realise Kas is under him at the back, placing herself between him and the drop and pushing his legs. I don’t know how it happens but Yogi finds some grip and lunges past me, hitting me flush in the chest and knocking me to the side. He crashes into the undergrowth.
I look back to see Kas lying flat on the rock on her stomach. My blood runs cold—until she props herself up and smiles.
‘See,’ she says. ‘Easy!’
Willow climbs down off the rock above us and throws herself at Kas, who catches her. Then the two of them edge across to sit down next to me in the fringes of the bush. Kas is limping heavily.
‘You okay?’ I ask.
‘Just a kick to the thigh. It’s not the first—and it won’t be the last. You?’
‘Fine. Just winded.’
‘Come on,’ she says struggling to her feet. ‘Let’s find Yogi.’
It’s easy to follow his tracks through the bush. He’s forced his way through to the logging coup and found some grass on the edge of the old track. His flanks are scratched and bloody and there’s a cut halfway up his front leg, but otherwise he looks okay.
We collapse into the grass. Kas flexes her leg, trying to keep the muscles moving, while Willow dozes in the sun. I know we have to get moving to have any chance of getting back to Angowrie by nightfall, but there’s such a sense of relief that we’ve found our way up the ridge that I just want to enjoy it for a moment.
Kas winces as she gets to her feet. She’s in more pain than she’s letting on.
‘Show me,’ I say.
She turns her back, undoes her belt and eases her jeans down to her knees. I hear her intake of breath when she sees it for the first time.
‘How does it look?’ I say, still sitting down.
‘Like I’ve been kicked by a fucking horse,’ she says.
She turns around. There is an almost perfect half-moon welt in the middle of her thigh.
‘There goes your modelling career,’ I say, keeping the smile from my face.
‘Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,’ she says. ‘But I reckon this’d already done that,’ she says pointing to her birthmark. ‘Not much work for freaks.’
She turns her back to me again and pulls her jeans up.
‘It’s okay,’ she says, trying to smile. ‘I’m used to it. Mostly I forget it’s there, until I hear the whispers and see the sideways glances.’
She fusses with her belt, straightens her T-shirt and pushes the hair off her face.
‘Rose tell you about Longley? The feedstore?’ she asks, still looking away.
‘A bit. Enough.’
‘It’s the only time being a freak was any advantage. The men stayed away from me.’
‘You’re not a freak. You’re…beautiful.’
The words slip out before I can stop them.
She laughs, but it’s bitter. ‘I don’t need your sympathy, Finn,’ she says. She pauses. ‘Horses, they like me. They don’t care how I look.’
Willow has woken up.
‘Can I ride on Yogi, Kas?’ she asks.
‘Sure you can,’ Kas says and moves over to pick her up. But when she bends down her leg buckles underneath her and she falls.
‘I think there might be two of you riding Yogi,’ I say.
‘I can walk,’ Kas snaps.
‘Not if we want to get to Angowrie today.’
She doesn’t respond, but continues to flex her leg.
‘I’m going to look around the old truck for something we can carry water in,’ I say.
I have to fight my way through creepers and undergrowth to get to the truck. The doors are rusted closed, but I manage to prise one open. There’s a plastic water bottle wedged under the seat.
I head back through the bush to fill it in the creek. I have to crawl out onto the rock slab and lie on my belly to get the bottle under the flowing water. As I’m crouched over the creek, I hear another noise. Men’s voices.
I keep low until I’m back in the cover of the bush, then I take off as fast as I can.
Kas struggles to her feet when she sees me running towards her. I don’t need to tell her. She lifts Willow onto Yogi’s back, but struggles to climb up herself. I get to her side and boost her up.
‘How many?’ she asks.
‘Dunno. But we’ve gotta move. Now!’
I’m not sure if Yogi senses the danger, but he seems suddenly more lively. He breaks into a trot, heading up the track along the side of the coup. I have one arm around Kas’s waist and she holds Willow in front of her.
Kas’s talking to Yogi. ‘Come on, boy,’ she says. ‘Just give us ten minutes. We need to get a break on them.’
I keep looking back to the spot where we came out of the bush at the bottom of the coup, but there’s no sign of movement. The track we are on re-enters the forest closer to the top, concealing us from anyone further down.
Eventually, Kas slips off Yogi’s back and I follow. Willow stays on to ride for a while.
‘So, did you see them?’ Kas asks.
‘No. But I heard them.’
The track widens as we get closer to the ridgeline, where we come to a T-intersection.
‘I reckon this is the logging track that meets the coast road just below Pinchgut Junction,’ I say. ‘If Ramage’s men are still guarding the cutting, we should be able to avoid them.’
‘How far do you reckon?’ Kas asks.
‘Hard to tell, but it can’t be more than ten ks.’
As we move along the track I keep my eye out for prickly currant bushes. They’re about the only bush food I know. There’s plenty of them in the scrub down closer to Angowrie. The bright red berries are easy to spot. I tell Kas, and she starts looking off into the bush as well.
It takes us a couple of hours to get to the coast road. We don’t hesitate, swinging south as the road starts to descend. It’s mid-afternoon by then and my energy is draining away. Kas is limping badly now, but she refuses to ride.
‘And I thought your sister was stubborn,’ I mutter.
She lets that go but, with her back to me, says, ‘I reckon you fell for Rose. Makes sense. A boy on his own for years, then a beautiful girl is chased into town. I bet if she had been a boy you wouldn’t have been so quick to help.’
When she turns back I can see she’s smiling.
‘If she
was a boy,’ I say, ‘Ramage wouldn’t have been chasing her.’
The sun is still high enough to warm us when the road swings briefly out of the shadows. I can hear kookaburras in the distance and every now and again the snapping of twigs as a wallaby takes off into the undergrowth. At one point I think I pick up the smell of the ocean.
Kas is ahead of me. She’s taken her jumper off and the dark skin on her arms glints with sweat.
‘There is something I’ve been wondering,’ I say, ‘but I don’t know how to put it…’
‘What?’
‘You know, Rose being pregnant…’
‘Do I know who the father is?’ She shrugs. I’m not sure if it’s an I-don’t-care shrug or an I-don’t-know one.
‘Finn, look!’ she shouts, leading Yogi off the road. She’s found a currant bush.
‘Careful,’ I say, ‘the leaves are really prickly.’
There’s not a lot of fruit, but I show her how to shake the branches at their base to make the berries fall.
Willow climbs down off Yogi and picks up the berries. They are sweet and juicy, little grenades of flavour on our tongues. Conversation drops away as we gorge ourselves.
Kas has trickles of red at the sides of her mouth. She grins and her teeth are all stained.
‘They’re so good. What do you reckon, Willow?’ she asks.
‘Nice,’ she agrees, smearing the red juice down the side of her face. ‘Look,’ she says. ‘I’m like you, Kas.’
It’s not until I get my first glimpse of the ocean, that blue horizon I have been missing for the last week, that I dare to think we might make it home safely. I’m so worried about Rose—whether she’ll still be there, whether she’s managed to stay safe, whether she will be well enough to recognise us.
I keep an eye out for the windmill and tank on my left, though the fading light doesn’t help. Eventually it appears out of the gloom. And my bike is still there.
‘Aren’t you full of surprises!’ Kas says when I wheel it out.
The sun drops below the horizon and the night sets in. I don’t know what to expect when we get back into Angowrie, but I have to assume Ramage has left someone there to keep watch.