Brumbies in the Mountains

by Paula Boer

  Ben refused to answer. The thought of selling his stallion had kept him awake all night. Who wanted a scarred, wild horse? Even with the obvious success of Shadow’s foal, people would be put off by a brumby with a damaged leg.

  The pair walked in silence until they came to a creek. The horses dropped their heads and guzzled at the cold stream. Ben crouched and splashed water over his face. The joy of the gallop had left him. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Louise yet.

  Louise swigged from her water bottle before replacing it in her saddlebags. “I have bad news too. My dad’s contract with the local hydro company has finished. We’ll probably have to move as well.”

  Shaken from his own worries, Ben slumped onto a rock. “What about school? You’ve at least another year to go. It’d be terrible to change now.”

  “I know. It depends on what work Dad gets. I guess I’ll have to wait and see. I hope we don’t move back to a city. I think Honey would hate to be stabled all the time or only in a small paddock.”

  Tossing stones into the creek, Ben kicked at the bank with his heel. “It all stinks. You might have to sell Honey.”

  “Don’t say that! We’ve got to find a way to keep our horses.”

  Ben straightened to his feet and threw Snip’s reins over his neck. “Come on, we’d better get moving or our horses won’t be the only worry. Have you thought about what we’re going to say to Mr Cartwright about the brumbies from being shot?”

  Grimacing, Louise tightened Jake’s girth. “Maybe we could offer to do a muster again. Selling the horses, even for pet food, is better than them being shot from the air. I can’t bear to think of them lying injured.”

  “Why do adults always ruin everything? I bet we won’t stuff up the world like this when we’re in charge.”

  Having remounted, Ben urged Snip into a brisk walk alongside the creek.

  The friends rode in silence as they contemplated their futures. The horses, settled after their run, strode along on loose reins. The clop of their hooves on stones accompanied the gurgling of the creek. A small flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos screeched overhead, skimming the treetops and riding the air currents.

  A low buzzing attracted Ben’s attention. “What’s that? It sounds like bees. Mum always likes bush honey. It’s great for wounds as well as being good to eat.”

  Riding away from the track, Ben followed the noise, which grew louder at the edge of the forest. Gnarled snow gums caused him to bend down to avoid branches lashing his face. The dim light under the canopy made him squint. A large shape took form as he pushed Snip further into the tangle of dead branches and old bark that littered the ground.

  Realising the noise he’d heard came from a swarm of blowflies, Ben leapt from his horse. “Don’t come any further!”

  Millions of flying insects buzzed and rose in a black mass as Ben approached a stinking body. The mare lay covered in blood from a shoulder wound, her head twisted back at an impossible angle where she must have broken her neck. Her tangled legs seemed to move as the flies resettled and continued their feast.

  Snip snorted and tugged back on his reins, pulling Ben off his feet. “Yeh, good idea, let’s get out of here.”

  Back where Louise waited on the edge of the woods, Ben tried not to gag as the cloying smell of death stuck in his throat. “It looks like we’re too late to stop the shooting. That’s a dead brumby. Don’t look. She’s not feeling any pain anymore.”

  Louise wiped sweat from her face. “How did she die in there? She must have been shot out in the open and kept moving.”

  “She must have been in a panic to crash into thick scrub like that. Come on, let’s get out of here.” About to remount, Ben heard a faint whicker.

  Louise must have heard it too. “That sounded like a horse.”

  Holding up one hand to ask Louise to remain where she was, Ben handed her Snip’s reins with the other. “Take these guys away. They’re already spooked and we don’t want to get in the way of an injured horse. I’ll go and have a look.”

  Climbing over a rotting log, Ben made his way through the undergrowth to where he thought the noise had come from. His eyes adjusted to the gloom as he snapped twigs and branches with his forearms to break through, trying not to get scratched. He still couldn’t see another horse. Maybe the creaking trees had played tricks with their imaginations. About to turn away, he heard a feeble gasp of breath and a fluttering of nostrils.

  The sounds came from close to his feet. Looking down, he realised the mound he thought was an ant nest was a small body covered in ticks. The blood-sucking insects clung to the foal’s skin like scales. As Ben crouched down beside the stricken filly, she opened her eyes and struggled to raise her head before letting it collapse back to the ground.

  Ben dragged the last of the fallen branches away from the foal to clear a space to drag her free. Apart from looking weak from starvation and tick infestation the filly didn’t appear injured.

  Louise scratched in circles at the base of the little one’s neck like a mare would with her tongue. Apart from emitting a deep sigh the filly didn’t react to the presence of humans or their touch. “How will we get her out now that we’ve cleared a way?”

  “If we tie her shoulders to Snip, he can take the strain while I support her weight.” Hefting the foal on to her side, Ben grunted as he tried to prop her upright.

  Louise undid the lead ropes from both the riding horses and made a loop that wouldn’t slip. She secured it behind the filly’s front legs before returning to Ben’s horse. “Come on, Snip, pull.”

  With the gelding heaving on the rope and Ben pushing from behind, the foal lurched to her feet and tottered a couple of steps before falling. After trying a few more times, Ben called a halt. “It’s no good. She’s too far-gone. There’s no will to live left in her.”

  Louise stroked the tiny face and straightened the tangled forelock. “We can’t leave her here to die. There must be a way to get her out.”

  Extracting his penknife from its pouch, Ben tested the blade. “I don’t think this is sharp enough to put her out of her misery.”

  “No! Can’t we drag her home behind one of the horses like we did with that injured hiker?” One winter Louise and Ben had found a couple of tourists trapped in the old mines. They had made a travois and managed to get the lady to the information centre to meet the ambulance.

  Ben struggled with his desire to help the horse and the practicalities of trying to save it. “The snow made the going smooth then. I doubt we could secure a foal on a drag the same way we could a human. She’d probably struggle and come off. Anyway, I think she’s too sick.”

  From the look on Louise’s face Ben could see she wasn’t convinced. He had another idea. “Maybe we could lift her onto Jake. He’s used to carrying sheep. He might be alright with her.”

  Louise brightened. “Let’s give it a go.”

  Ben and Louise tried to roll the foal into a position to lift. One of her long legs stuck out and caught on a trailing vine. As Louise disentangled it, another one caught on a branch. Snapping off the obstruction, Louise gave up as the filly’s legs flopped and tangled together. “This is hopeless. I wish she’d stand for herself.”

  Ben removed his belt. “Tie her front legs together with this. I’ll get the hobbles off Snip’s saddle to use for her hind legs.”

  Once the foal’s legs were secured the friends found it easier to manoeuvre her body. Between the two of them they managed to heft the orphan foal onto a log. With Louise supporting the fragile head and neck, Ben bent his knees and groaned as he strained to lift the foal onto Jake’s saddle. “Quick! Go around the other side and grab her front legs.”

  Louise did as asked. Grabbing the tiny fetlocks she heaved and dragged the foal across the saddle as Ben struggled to hold her up against his chest. Both friends puffed with the effort. The day had started to heat up and sweat dr
ipped from their faces. Jake stood still as they pushed and shoved the filly into position. Once balanced across the stockhorse’s back Ben adjusted the hobbles to fasten her legs beneath the horse’s belly. “That should stop her thrashing and kicking Jake. I guess I’ll have to walk alongside to prevent her slipping.”

  Untying Jake from where she had secured him to a tree, Louise stepped back to his offside shoulder. “I’ll go on this side and lead from here. That way there’s one of us on either side.”

  “No. You’d better ride Snip and go to the signpost tree. We’ll need help from Harry if we’re going to save this one. Write a note and ask him to come to the farm as soon as he can.” Ben twirled pieces of ribbon bark together as he spoke, making extra ties to hold the filly in place.

  “Aren’t we taking her to the information centre? We could phone a vet from there. We need to talk to Mr Cartwright and get the shooting stopped. If he sees this foal, surely he’ll understand it’s cruel?”

  Ben could see this whole venture was turning into a mammoth exercise. He wished they hadn’t found the foal. It would have died soon anyway. Being from the city, Louise didn’t have the same attitude towards animals. She wanted to care for every creature regardless of how hopeless it might be. She had a magpie at home that she had rescued after it fell out of its nest a year ago. He thought she should have let nature determine whether it was strong enough to survive or not.

  Also, he knew neither of them had money for a vet. Harry was their only hope. “It’s much closer back to the farm. I’ll ask Mum to ring Mr Cartwright. At least we have proof of what’s happening out here. Anyway, I can probably get some milk out of Shadow. Peach will have to share.”

  Louise seemed to accept this solution. “Do you think Shadow will adopt her? It’ll be like raising twins.”

  From past experience Ben knew it was unlikely that the old stockhorse would accept another mare’s foal, especially one that was a few weeks old. “No, but we can still use her milk until we can get this foal onto something else. We need to get fluids into her straight away. From the way her flanks are sunken she’s really dehydrated. I expect she’s been without milk for days.”

  As if to support his words the filly groaned. Threads of mucus hung from her nostrils and mouth. Her eyes closed. Her coat stared, matted and dirty, with bare patches from the ticks and where she had lain. Her ribs protruded over an enlarged belly and her neck seemed to be all bone.

  Having led Jake out of the trees, Ben started to walk back, the prone body draping over Jake’s saddle. Despite their efforts to get the foal to safety he doubted she would be alive when he reached home.

  Chapter 3

  Louise tightened Snip’s girth and adjusted her stirrups before reaching up to his withers to grasp his mane. The black gelding stood 16.1 hands high. She had never ridden such a large horse before and wasn’t sure she’d be able to spring up without help. Bouncing on the ball of her right foot while struggling to keep her left foot in the stirrup she swung up into the saddle. “It feels like his head is miles away. Are these extra-long reins?”

  “Yeh, I made them out of an old skin Dad had in the shed. Don’t worry, when he gets going his head comes up. You’ll be reeling them in like fishing line.” Ben gave a small wave as he set off without bothering to see Louise ride in the opposite direction.

  At first Snip wanted to follow Jake. Louise shortened the reins and drove him away with her seat. She didn’t want Snip, or Ben, to realise how nervous she felt. Clicking the horse up, she squeezed him into a trot and headed to the familiar trail to the tree where they left messages for Harry. As she planned in her head what she’d write, she was glad she always carried a notebook and pencil with her for sketching.

  Old Harry lived rough in the park, spending his days catching food and caring for injured wildlife. He rode around on Jenny, a mule he had inherited from a friend, always wearing a coat of kangaroo skins regardless of the weather. Over the last couple of years Ben and Louise had become good friends with the hermit and often consulted him for advice. He had helped them catch and break-in their brumbies and seemed to know everything about horses and other animals as well as plants.

  Time passed quickly as she rode along the Dalrymple River, stopping once to let Snip drink after a long trot. Amazed that the big horse was so comfortable she soon overcame her nervousness. Grateful to the riding instruction she had received from Patti McGrath, she hurried on her errand so she could catch up with Ben before he reached home.

  After leaving her message under a rock at the signpost tree Louise arranged dried timber in the form of an arrow to show Harry that a message waited for him. Remounting Snip she sensed his eagerness to head home. Careful not to let him get out of control Louise let him roll from a trot to a canter. His long strides covered the ground in great bounds, thudding on the hard soil and kicking stones out of the way. His steady breathing and rhythmic body movements made her breathe in time with him, sitting forward in a two-point seat to keep over his centre of balance. With her bum out of the saddle, Louise made a point of keeping her knees tight in case Snip shied as he was prone to do.

  Despite her caution the ride back to Tumbleford Farm was uneventful. She loved riding the big horse despite his long stride being so different to the short rocking-chair motion of her mare. Louise caught up with Ben leading Jake as they clattered over the wooden bridge near the farm gate. “I’m back.”

  Ben called a greeting. “Did Snip behave? It was only after you’d gone I realised you’d never ridden him before.”

  “He was fantastic.” Louise jumped off and threw the reins over Snip’s head to walk alongside Ben.

  “The filly hasn’t moved an inch. Jake has been great. Can you put Snip in the round yard and help me make a bed for the foal? I think we’d better use the hay shed.” Ben gave Louise more instructions before leading the stockhorse across the yard with his unusual burden.

  Louise untacked Snip and rubbed the saddle patch with her hand. “Sorry, I’ll wash you down and give you a feed later.”

  After turning him loose to roll in the sand of the training area Louise rushed to break open a fresh bale of straw in the shed. Strewing it around where Ben indicated she made a thick bed for the foal. Unloading the filly proved almost as difficult as loading her had been; they didn’t want to hurt her by letting her crash to the ground.

  “Come this side and help me support her weight.” Ben struggled with the foal. As he had unbound her legs they stuck out and caught on his shirt, his jeans, or anything else they touched.

  After a couple of minutes the friends slid her out of Jake’s saddle. Hoping she would be able to stand they held her with her tiny hooves touching the thick straw. Swaying, the filly seemed to be able to remain upright. “Let her go, Louise.”

  After a moment on her feet the filly tipped forward and crashed. Too slow to catch her, Louise cried out. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeh, just not strong enough yet. I’ll get some water.” Louise crouched down by the filly and stroked her mane.

  The young brumby didn’t object to the contact, turning her silken muzzle to Louise and trying to suck her sleeve. “Don’t worry, little one. You’re safe now. We’ll save you.”

  Returning with a half-filled bucket, Ben held it at the foal’s head. Straight away loud slurping showed she was drinking. A bulge pulsed down her neck each time she swallowed. Louise clapped her hands. “She’s certainly thirsty. Shouldn’t we get her some milk?”

  A shadow passed across the doorway, stealing the sun’s warmth from Louise’s back.

  Mrs Naylor stood with a large plastic bottle in her hands that had a rubber teat on the end. “I saw you come in. I guess you’ll be needing this.”

  Ben crossed to his mother. “She’s drinking from a bucket already. I don’t think we’ll need to bottle-feed. I thought I’d get some milk from Shadow. What do you think?”

 
“You could, I guess. Don’t take too much from Peach though. Or you could use the calf mix. There’s a bag in the old dairy. It looks like you’ll need the tick wash too. I’ll go and get it for you.” Mrs Naylor shook her apron at the geese that gathered around her legs as she left to unlock the shed where they stored animal medicines and other dangerous chemicals.

  Louise handed the empty water bucket to Ben. “I’ll take Jake and feed both horses. What about some hay for the foal? Do you think she’ll be able to eat that?”

  Perked up by the water, the filly raised her head. Ben shrugged. “No harm in giving her some. I suppose now she’s here we’d better give her a name too.”

  Louise had been thinking about this on the way back. “I wasn’t sure we should name her in case she died, but it looks like she wants to live. How about—?”

  Before she could finish, Louise was interrupted by Ben’s father. “No good giving her a name. A bullet is what she needs. Don’t we have enough horses around that we have to rescue every sick soul on the planet?”

  Stunned by the anger in Mr Naylor’s voice, Louise said nothing.

  Ben came to the foal’s defence. “It wasn’t us that killed her mother. The aerial cull must have started already. We couldn’t leave her there to die.”

  Mr Naylor turned to leave. “It’ll be another horse you’ll have to sell when we get rid of the farm. Don’t be surprised if no-one wants it and you have to shoot it anyway. Waste of good food if you ask me, trying to save it.”

  Worried that Ben would be forced to get rid of the foal after all their effort to save her, Louise had an idea. “We left a message for Harry. Maybe he can take her and raise her? Jenny is getting really old and I bet he’d love a brumby mare.”

  “Yeh, good idea. Let’s at least look after her until Harry turns up. How about calling her Eve?”