by Paula Boer
Louise brightened. “Of course! It’s Christmas Eve. She can be our gift to Harry.”
Christmas morning dawned still and hot. Louise leapt out of bed at first light as the kookaburras started to chuckle in the big gum tree behind the house. She hurried into the living room to see what parcels lay beneath the tree. Last year her parents had given her a hand-carved saddle for Honey. This time she hoped for a matching breastplate and crupper as Honey’s short back caused the saddle to slip when she jumped.
A large awkward shape lay beneath the tinsel tree. Louise couldn’t imagine what it might be. Surely not a rug? She had purchased one for Honey with the money she had made from mustering feral cattle in the winter. Maybe it was a saddle rack? The rattle of china in the kitchen distracted her. She bounced up and went to greet her father in the kitchen.
Mr Hardy had a frying pan sizzling hot in readiness to make pancakes, the family’s usual start to Christmas morning. “Go and wake Dean, will you?”
After giving her father a hug and wishing him a "Merry Christmas", Louise dashed down the hallway to wake her older brother. He always slept in when he had been playing with his band the night before. Louise rapped on the door before opening it a few inches and poking her nose into the dark den. “Happy Christmas! Breakfast is almost ready.”
Not waiting for a response Louise retreated to the kitchen where her mother busied about laying the table. Louise sighed to see the best china in use, meaning everything would have to be washed up by hand rather than put into the dishwasher. She had hoped to get over to Patti’s today to ride. Now she knew that, as usual, she wouldn’t be able to get away.
While the smell of hot pancakes filled the room Louise grabbed a saucer of mince from the fridge and went outside to feed Fred, the magpie she had rescued when it had fallen from its nest. Fully fledged, the bird had become very tame and often rode around on Louise’s felt hat, even when she rode her bike. Listening out for the bird’s squawking cry for food Louise wandered around the garden.
Strange. Fred normally waited on the back of the outdoor chairs, singing his heart out and making a fuss. This morning he was nowhere to be seen. “Freeeeeed! Breakfast! There’s egg yolk today.” Louise knew the bird couldn’t resist the rare treat of raw egg mixed in with his mince.
Still no reply.
After scouting the shrubs and trees around the garden Louise gave up and went back inside. “Fred’s gone missing.”
Mr Hardy dished up platefuls of pancakes with strawberries as the family sat down to the table. “He’s probably having Christmas with the other magpies. There was a large flock here yesterday afternoon. Must have been thirty or so. Don’t worry about him.”
Mrs Hardy drizzled honey over her breakfast and passed the jar to Louise. “It’s about time that bird left home. It’s a good thing with what we have to tell you.”
Having a mouthful of food Louise couldn’t answer. She was pleased to hear Dean voice her own thoughts.
“Have you got a new job, Dad? Are we moving?” The young man flicked back his lank hair before lowering his head back to his food. He never looked at anyone for long.
“Yes. We’ve been saving the exciting news until we were all together this morning. We’re going to Africa!” Mrs Hardy announced the news as if she expected everyone to clap.
Louise paused with a forkful of pancake half way to her mouth. “No! You can’t go overseas. I’ll miss you!”
At the shocked look on her parents" faces Louise realised her error. Her stomach felt as if it had plunged to the floor as the truth sank in. “You mean we’re all going?”
“Not me.” Dean scraped his chair back from the table and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Mr Hardy laid a placating hand on Louise’s arm. “We thought you’d be thrilled. Think of the wildlife parks with elephants and zebras, giraffes and hippos. We may even be able to go and see gorillas at some stage.”
That idea certainly appealed to Louise. “Where in Africa do you mean?”
Mrs Hardy explained the rest of the news. “Malawi, east of Zambia and south of Tanzania. You’ll love it. There’s a really good American school in Lilongwe. They’ve already said they’ll take you after I sent them your exam results. Aren’t you glad now that I nagged you about your homework? They don’t let just anybody in.”
Going to a foreign school in a far off country had never entered Louise’s thoughts. As the truth of her situation sunk in she felt a heavy weight build in her chest. “I can’t go. What about Honey? And Ben needs me. He’s got the farm to run so it doesn’t have to be sold and two foals to look after. And the brumbies are being shot and Patti would have to find another groom—”
Mrs Hardy became stern. “Those are their problems. Honey will have to be sold. You can get another horse when we come back in a few years.”
No longer hungry, Louise cleared away her plate and went through to sit by the tree. Trying to control the tears that threatened to engulf her she tried to imagine what it would be like to live in Africa. Certainly the animals were an attraction. Maybe they could take Honey with them? Horses travelled across the world all the time for racing or breeding.
As her parents came and sat down in the living room Louise looked up from where she sat on the floor. “I wonder what it would cost to fly Honey to Malawi?”
“It doesn’t matter what it costs; she’s not going. You have to sell her. She must be worth quite a bit with all the training you’ve done. Maybe you can find a riding school where we’re going?” Mrs Hardy struggled with the large parcel marked for Louise and handed it to her.
“I don’t want to go to a riding school. And someone else might not understand Honey and want to ride her with a bit or make her do things against her will.” Taking her present Louise was surprised at how light it felt.
Trying to hide her emotions Louise undid the red and green bow and carefully peeled away the sticky tape. She loved to draw out the pleasure of receiving gifts and knew if she was careful she could re-use the paper. As the contents revealed themselves Louise couldn’t stop the look of dismay that crossed her face. “A guitar. Are you sure this is for me?”
Sitting across from her, Mr Hardy nodded. “We thought you could learn to play while we’re away. That’ll give you an interest and we’ll be able to play as a family.”
Louise’s parents knew she had never been interested in music even though her mother taught the clarinet, flute and piano. Dean was the other musician in the family. She felt sure this must all be a big joke. “I’ll swap this with Dean for his breastplate and crupper.”
“No, Louise. It’s really is for you. It’s time you had something more in your life than horses. Stop being so self-centred. Your dad has accepted a wonderful job for the next two years and we’re all going to Africa. That’s final.”
Chapter 4
Kneeling in the deep straw Ben offered the bucket of milk to Eve. “Why won’t you stand, little one? You’ve been drinking and eating well. How am I going to get you up?” Despite Ben trying to push and shove the filly to her feet nothing seemed to work. She lay in the bedding without trying to rise, chewing on a tuft of hay.
Running his hands over her body Ben checked the filly for any remaining ticks. Although the chemical wash his mother had given him removed most of the parasites, a few still clung in tucks of skin and under her matted hair. Using a stiff brush Ben tried to dislodge the clumps of dirt as gently as he could. “You look a bit better than when we found you, but I hope Harry turns up soon. I can’t afford to call out Oliver over the Christmas holidays.”
Leaving the foal to sleep after her breakfast, Ben caught Brandy. With a flash of insight he led the stallion into the shed rather than his usual stable. On seeing the young brumby Brandy gave a soft nicker. Eve raised her head and whinnied back, her high-pitched call almost a squeal. “Maybe I should bring Shadow and Peach ins
ide to give you company. That might encourage you to stand up.”
After locking Brandy in his stable Ben caught the stockhorse mare. Peach trotted along behind her, happy to follow wherever her dam went. She didn’t even baulk when Ben led them into the dark cavern of the barn. “Look, Shadow, another baby. What do you think of that?”
The mare propped and snorted, lowering her head and blowing through distended nostrils. Eve lifted her nose and tried to reach Shadow who backed off and chivvied her own foal behind her. Striking out with a front leg, Shadow tried to attack the prone brumby. Eve continued to lie in the straw, not even trying to get out of the way.
Tugging on the lead rope Ben dragged the mare away. “That didn’t work, did it? Maybe you’d better go back in the paddock.”
Disappointed that his strategy to get the foal up hadn’t succeeded, Ben returned to Brandy. All his farm chores for the morning had been seen to; the water troughs cleaned and filled, fences checked for breaks and stock looked over. He had a few hours to himself before he needed to help John repair the hay tedder. Christmas dinner would come later. Not that he was looking forward to it with his dad so miserable, his mum worried about the future and John cross about giving up agricultural college. Perhaps if the farm was sold, a thought which he hated, John would be able to return to study.
Wondering what the future held for him, Ben rode out on his stallion. He tried not to think how many more rides he might be able to have before the horse had to be sold. One thing he knew, he would delay that day as much as he could.
Brandy bounced along the dirt road with his tail up and head held high, his liver chestnut coat glowing with health and vigour. His long mane and tail rippled with his movement, glossy from brushing. Ben let him pick his own pace, extending over flatter ground and shortening his stride to navigate rough country and steep hills. Not really thinking where he was going Ben was surprised to find they were already at Gould’s caves.
He remembered how, when he and Louise had first started to ride together, they had sheltered in the caves to get away from a summer storm. Louise had become sick and had to be rescued. That seemed so long ago. They had shared many adventures since then. Now it looked as if Louise would move away and he would have to go into town.
Deciding to ride somewhere different, away from his happy memories, Ben steered Brandy along the verge of the road to the highway. He usually avoided anywhere there was likely to be traffic. Today, he wanted to see how Brandy’s leg would stand up to the concussion of a hard trot. He pushed the horse faster with his seat and legs while retaining pressure on the reins, not letting him break into a canter. Flicking his toes forward, Brandy floated over the ground. Too soon, Ben saw the main road ahead and slowed down. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Clattering across the bitumen highway Ben waved at the driver of a log truck that slowed down out of courtesy. Brandy didn’t mind the heavy vehicle, only turning his head and pricking his ears as the driver used his exhaust brakes. Ben headed to a track he hadn’t seen before where the park extended on the other side of the road.
After a few hundred metres Ben brought Brandy to a halt. He couldn’t believe his eyes; instead of dense forest, felled timber lay in windrows. Piles of logs waited to be carted. The barren landscape looked dead as far as the horizon, all except a strip of trees along the roadside. He patted Brandy’s neck as he spoke to his horse. “I’ll bet they’ve left those gums so that drivers can’t see this devastation. This must be where that log truck came from though I’m sure this is part of the park.”
No leaves whispered or branches creaked. No birds sang or flew overhead. No lizards or tiny animals scurried in the leaf litter. Not wanting to look at the destruction any longer, Ben rode back across the road into the protection of the forest. Taking a narrow trail he pointed Brandy up a steep incline and urged the horse on. “Let’s scramble up here and see what we can see from the top. I need to know how far the logging stretches.”
The bush proved far thicker than Ben anticipated, making for slow going. Brandy stepped over logs and jumped gullies. Coming to a rocky drop-off the stallion slid down on his haunches without hesitation. The harder the country became the more Ben was delighted with his horse’s recovery from the severe leg injury a year ago. “I reckon you could do anything now, stockwork, campdrafting, or even mustering micky bulls like Uncle Graeme and Simon’s horses do.”
As Ben came out at a clearing on top of the hill the extent of the devastation spread below him, hectares of bush destroyed. It reminded him of the barren country of the outback. An idea took shape. Perhaps he and Brandy could find work out west on a cattle station. That way he wouldn’t have to sell Brandy and he’d be doing what he loved, working with horses. Perhaps he could even take his other horses with him.
With hope in his heart Ben returned home. As he rode across the bridge over Tumbledown Creek he was delighted to see the grey rump and scraggy tail of Jenny, Harry’s mule. Harry walked alongside, rocking on his bowed legs like a sailor straight off a ship.
Ben closed the stable door behind Brandy, having untacked him, washed him down and given him a feed. Jenny munched on a slice of hay in the round yard and Harry had gone to find Mrs Naylor for a coffee. When Ben joined them in the garden they were busy chatting about birds.
After offering Ben a plate of scones with jam and cream Mrs Naylor encouraged Harry to take a couple more. “You won’t find homemade jam like this in those hills of yours. Home-grown raspberries, too.”
Harry mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “They’re good, to be sure, Sally. Hey Ben, your mum’s been telling me about the sulphur-crested cockatoo she rescued. Did you know they can live to over a hundred?”
“Yeh, I reckon he will. He still visits Mum in the garden sometimes.”
Harry wiped a fleck of cream out of his long beard. “And Louise saving that magpie. I’m glad there’s others around like me that care about animals. Now what about this foal you left me a note about?”
Ben finished his drink. “I’ll show you. We’ve called her Eve. She’s eating, but I’m worried because I can’t get her to stand.”
Leading the way to the large shed Ben explained how he and Louise had found the foal and about the aerial cull. “We’ve got to stop it. Mustering the herds is one thing, but shooting from the air is cruel.”
“I agree, lad. You definitely need to talk to the ranger. I can’t get involved. It’s too perilous for me where I live. They’d throw me out of the park if they could. Especially that Smythe-Waters. Still, I got one up on him when I let those brumbies out of his paddock.” Harry gave a roaring laugh and slapped his thigh before spluttering into a coughing fit.
“Are you okay?” Ben thought Harry didn’t seem well. Despite the warm weather the old hermit looked pale beneath his whiskers.
“Fine, fine.”
They reached the foal where she lay in her bed of straw. Harry crouched down and patted her neck before running his hands all over her legs and body. He turned to Ben. “I don’t think she’s injured. Have you got an old horse rug and some hessian sacks or something soft and strong?”
Ben hurried to get a canvas rug from the tack room and went to see if his mum had any old towels they could use. When he returned he saw Harry had rolled an empty water barrel next to the foal. “Lay that rug down next to her and we’ll tip her on to it.”
Rolling the foal proved easy. Next they hoisted the ends of the rug up so that Eve propped against the barrel. Impressing Ben with his strength Harry twisted the rug and swung the filly over the barrel, her front legs on one side and her hind legs on the other.
“Give her limbs a rub. We need to get the circulation going.” Harry demonstrated what he meant, massaging the brumby’s forelegs between his calloused hands.
Eve accepted the ministrations without complaint. After ten minutes she took her weight on her legs, lifting her body above the b
arrel. Mrs Naylor came in with an armful of old bedsheets. “Will these do?”
“Perfect.” Harry wrapped the linen around and under the foal before roping them to the overhead beam to take the filly’s weight. Shaking straw out of her mane, Eve snorted and stamped a front hoof.
Harry signalled to Ben. “Quick, slide the barrel out from under her before she knocks herself.”
Once the barrel was out of the way Eve took a tentative step forward. With only a slight wobble she took another step. Harry released the sling and allowed her to move freely. Within moments she could walk around the enclosed space of the shed.
Ben couldn’t believe his eyes. “That’s fantastic. Will she be alright now?”
Harry scratched his chin. “She may not be able to get up on her own for a while. That’s the hard part. You might have to lift her each time for a few days. We’ll see.”
While Harry gave Ben instructions for the filly’s care the little brumby explored the shed. Finding a fresh bale of hay she tugged a mouthful free. Her health had improved a lot since Ben and Louise had first brought her home. “Louise and I wanted to bring her to you, but we don’t know how to find your hut. I know I’ve been there once when that pig gouged me, but I don’t remember the way.”
Harry nodded and was quiet. After a few moments of stroking his beard he seemed to come to a conclusion. “I hide my tracks so that other people can’t find me. It’s easy to do. I roll a rock or shove a log across the entry into the forest so it looks as if there is nothing there but shrubs. I go different ways all the time so I don’t make a trodden path. But you and Louise, I’d like you to be able to visit. I have lots of things I’d like to share with you both.”
“Really? That’d be cool. So how do we find you?”
Harry tapped his fingers again his leg for a few moments. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave twigs twisted into the shape of a horseshoe when I block the way. You know the track above the signpost tree? Start there and follow the signs. You’ll only have to go a short way in before you see the trail each time.”