by Karen Wood
Luke sniffed them again. They smelled like flowers.
‘I washed them too, they stank,’ said Talia. ‘The yellow one loved it, but the black one tried to bite me.’
‘Sorry, they’re a bit feral.’
‘Anyway, stop interrupting me.’ Talia walked back inside.
Luke sat with his feet on the couch for hours, watching Talia work. It was almost hypnotic to see a large canvas of red swirls come to life under the careful strokes of her brushes. She hummed a tune from a children’s television show as she worked. Tobeee, Tobeee, everybody loves Tobeee . . .
‘I don’t have any more money to pay you,’ he said.
‘Shh,’ she hissed.
‘But I can pay you back when—’
‘Shut up or get out!’
He shut up, rolled over on the couch and drifted in and out of sleep. When he woke in the morning she was gone and the canvas was finished. It was extraordinary – fiery and swirly, with eyes in it.
There was half a loaf of stale white bread on the kitchen sink. He ate most of it and made a cup of tea. Outside, he crouched down and ran his hands over the dogs’ big bony heads. ‘I can’t take you with me, guys. But I think Talia likes you and she’ll take good care of you.’
Filth let out a loud whine and leapt at him. ‘Don’t make it any harder,’ Luke whispered. ‘There’s nothing else I can do. I just need a hand until I can find a job, then maybe I can come back and get you.’
It wouldn’t be too bad. No worse than staying here and scabbing off a total stranger. The department of community services would probably find some hostel or somewhere he could stay. He looked around for something to tether the pups to and found a pipe running down the side of the toilet building. He gave Filth and Fang a last pat, slung his pack onto his shoulder and walked out onto the street, trying to ignore the yelps.
25
HE FOUND A public phone in town with a battered yellow block of pissed-on pages. An old man in a beanie sat staring at him from a nearby bench. ‘It’s broken, ay,’ he mumbled.
‘I was looking for the phone book,’ said Luke. ‘Do you know where Centrelink is?’
‘It’s broken,’ the man mumbled again and then proceeded to tell Luke what he thought of all Centrelink employees.
Luke looked around for someone else to ask.
‘Got a dollar?’ the man asked.
Luke fumbled in his pockets and took out his last few goldies. ‘If I’m gonna be broke, I may as well be stony broke.’ He let them drop into the man’s gnarly old hand and set off to find Centrelink. It wasn’t a huge town – he’d find it sooner or later. As soon as they looked up his details they’d find out he was a missing person.
A car on the other side of the road honked. Luke looked up briefly. It was a Landcruiser ute, one of hundreds around here. Nothing to do with him. He put his head down and kept walking. It honked again and he ignored it.
‘Luke.’
It was a man’s voice, a Coachwood Crossing voice. He’d know it anywhere. Luke spun around. On the other side of the road, a man in his thirties, tall, with a big hat and big boots, closed the door of the ute and began walking across the road.
Luke could barely believe his eyes. ‘Lawson?’
Lawson walked straight at him, stopping a couple of metres away with his hands in his pockets, running his eyes over him.
Luke felt instantly self-conscious. His clothes were filthy and ill-fitting. He must look like hell.
‘Hey,’ said Lawson.
Luke nodded a greeting, while his mind tried to adjust. What did Lawson want? What was he doing here?
‘How you been?’ asked Lawson, his eyes resting momentarily on Luke’s plastered arm.
‘All right, I s’pose.’
Strange silence.
‘Want to talk?’
‘About what?’
Lawson put his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. ‘Everything.’
Luke’s head spun. He had just shut off all hope of ever making Coachwood Crossing his home again. He was walking in another direction. And now, here was Lawson, standing right in front of him, asking him to open it all back up.
‘Come and have a beer,’ said Lawson, tilting his head towards the pub over the road and looking at his watch. ‘Not quite beer o’clock yet, but we could call ourselves shift workers for the morning.’
‘Bouncer in that pub already kicked me out.’
‘He won’t if you’re with me,’ said Lawson. ‘Come on.’ He began to cross the road and looked back to see if Luke was coming.
Luke followed cautiously and Lawson waited for him to catch up. They walked side by side, both with their hands in their pockets.
In a quiet courtyard out the back, Lawson put two beers on the table and sat down. Luke left his untouched and waited for Lawson to speak, wondering what the hell was worth a three-day drive to come and talk about.
Lawson stared into his glass and picked at the calluses on his fingers. ‘Been thinking about what you said,’ he muttered after a while. ‘You’re right, Harry was the only family I had. Feel like a part of myself’s died.’
Luke stayed quiet.
Lawson kept talking. ‘I’ll never forget when he taught me to break in my first horse.’ He smiled into his beer. ‘Dusty. He was a brumby. A herd-bound little fella, had the strongest sense of his mob. Harry made me do all the groundwork over and over, wouldn’t let me even think of getting on him till I had his complete respect on the ground. He reckoned I’d never ever have a partnership with him unless I established myself as the leader.’ Lawson laughed. ‘Imagine trying to teach that to a thirteen-year-old kid. God, I just wanted to get on him and ride the buck out of him.’
Luke couldn’t help a small laugh. That was just so Lawson.
‘He was right, though,’ said Lawson. ‘Sometimes if you want respect, you do have to step up, be a leader.’
‘So did the horse buck?’
‘Nup.’ Lawson looked up and grinned. ‘I was so pissed off; my first breaker and barely a bloody pigroot. Where was the glory in that?’ He shook his head. ‘Geez, that little brumby turned out to be a good horse, though.’
‘That why you went and rode rodeo for a while?’
‘Yeah. The old man’s way was no bloody fun.’ Lawson laughed. ‘I left home at fifteen and rode steers and broncs for a few years, bulls when I turned eighteen. Harry was absolutely disgusted with me.’
Luke ran his hand through his hair and thought of Harry. He was such a brilliant old fella. Luke couldn’t imagine being so lucky as to have him as a real father, to be brought up with all that knowledge and guidance at your fingertips, every day in the round yards and in the stables. The almost-four years he’d had with Harry had been the best of his life. Lawson had had thirty years of it.
‘First horse I ever broke in with Harry was a filly. I got tossed halfway across the property,’ said Luke. ‘Landed outside the rails.’
‘Lucky bastard,’ grinned Lawson.
‘I forgot to take my spurs off.’
Lawson roared with laughter. ‘The old man woulda seen them, too.’
Luke laughed with him. ‘Yeah, he did, but he let me get on and make my own mistakes. I never did it again.’
‘I bet you didn’t,’ chuckled Lawson. He downed the last of his beer and sat quiet for a while.
Luke looked at Lawson’s face. It was so much like Harry’s: the big nose, the heavy-set jaw. He had a thick head of black hair, though. Harry was a bald old codger.
‘You weren’t the first foster kid we ever had come to live with us,’ said Lawson.
‘I know.’
‘We had a few of them when I was growing up. The old man thought they would be good friends for us, you know, because we lived a long way out of town.’ Lawson shook his head. ‘But I hated it. I had to share everything with them, my home, my room, my father. I never asked for any of them.’
Luke began to feel small again.
‘But you were differen
t,’ said Lawson. ‘You always showed me some respect. You never cut in between me and the old man.’
‘You weren’t upset that he asked me to ride Biyanga?’
Lawson looked Luke in the eye and shook his head. ‘He saw you as a real mate and I respected that. If he wanted you to ride Biyanga, then that was fine by me. I just hoped you appreciated what a big honour that was. How much it meant to him.’
‘I did,’ said Luke.
‘I came up here to ask you to come home,’ said Lawson.
Luke wasn’t game to look up at Lawson’s face. Home. He had called it home. ‘Did Annie make you come up here?’
‘Nobody makes me do anything, Luke, you should know that.’ Lawson looked at him. ‘Annie doesn’t know where you are. If she did, she’d be here herself.’
Luke kept his eyes down. He didn’t want Lawson to read his face, read how desperately he wanted to come home. He had more to negotiate. ‘I don’t want to be a foster kid anymore. I want a job. Not just some crappy job – I could do that up here. I want to be a farrier.’
Lawson nodded. ‘You got it, Luke. You’d be a bloody good farrier.’
‘I would,’ said Luke, nodding and frowning and not sure if he should laugh or not. He took his first swig of beer and felt it swirl around in his empty gut. He was so hungry, he skulled the whole glass.
Lawson’s eyes were still on him. ‘Liquid breakfast?’
Luke nodded, embarrassed. Then he burped and laughed.
26
LAWSON DROPPED LUKE at the front gates of Harry’s place. ‘I nearly forgot,’ he said as he pulled the handbrake on. He opened the centre console and drew out a milky white stone on a string of leather. ‘This yours?’
‘Where’d you find that?’ Luke reached out a hand and took it.
‘You left it in Bob’s ute.’
‘When did you see him?’
Lawson just winked. ‘I’ll stop by later, okay, I’m going to go home and have a scrub.’ He twisted around and looked through the rear window. ‘Then you can hose out the back of my ute.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said Luke. ‘They don’t travel well.’ He unclipped Fang, then moved to the other side of the ute. ‘Ugh, Filth,’ he muttered as he unclipped the bouncing yellow pup. ‘That’s disgusting! ’
It was weird walking through the front gate. The place was empty. There were no cars in the garage and the stable doors were all open. Wind whistled over the sand in the arena. Horses grazed in the small day yards and Luke could see right down the laneway to the mares’ paddock, where new foals stood sleepily beside their mothers.
A familiar whinny brought a big smile to his face. ‘Legsy!’
The big black colt walked over to the fence and whinnied again.
‘Hey,’ said Luke. ‘How are you, old friend?’ With the pups at his heels, he slipped through the fencing rails and ran his hands up either side of the colt’s neck, then wrapped his arms around him and breathed in his salty, horsey smell.
‘You been on holidays?’ asked Luke, standing back and running his eyes over Legs. He hadn’t been ridden for a while, that was for sure. He was fatter and his feet were unshod and chipped around the edges.
Fang rumbled a low-pitched growl just before Luke heard the clink of the front gate. He spun around.
Grace opened the gate and led a horse through without noticing Luke.
She wasn’t the first person he wanted to see. He’d been horrible to her.
He waited for her to turn around.
‘Hi, Grace.’
‘Luke! Where did you come from?’
‘Just got here a few minutes ago.’
‘Does Annie know you’re here?’
‘Not yet.’
Awkward silence.
‘There’s been people here, asking heaps of questions, looking for you. The police have been here, too. Everyone wants to know where you are.’
Luke didn’t say anything. Hadn’t Lawson told anyone where he was?
‘We’re not going to let them take you away,’ said Grace, fierce determination in her voice.
‘I’m not going to let them take me, either,’ said Luke. ‘I’m here on my own terms this time.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I asked Lawson for a job. They’ll probably let me stay if I can show them I’ve got a way to support myself.’ He paused. ‘I won’t be just a foster kid anymore. I’ll be an apprentice farrier.’
Grace looked down at her boots. ‘I’m so sorry, Luke. I never should have said what I did. I feel like everything’s all my fault. Everyone’s been so mad at me.’
‘No way, Gracie,’ said Luke. ‘I was such a pig. I’m really sorry.’
Grace looked up. She was crying. ‘You’re not mad at me?’
Luke shook his head and wondered if he should hug her or something. She was really starting to blubber.
‘Umm, do you want a hug or something?’
Grace dropped the reins of the horse she was leading and hugged him hard, pinning his arms to his sides. Luke stood there. ‘It’s okay, Gracie. It’s okay,’ he said. He put his chin on the top of her head. Had she shrunk or had he grown taller?
Grace hugged him for a while until she saw Filth and Fang.
‘Oh my God, look at these cute little puppies!’ Grace dropped to her knees and held out her arms. They jumped all over her, waggling their scrawny bums and licking her face.
‘Kworr, that one’s got bad breath! What you been eating, hey, fella? What you been eating? Yes, what you been eating, you’re so cuuute!’
‘Fish guts,’ said Luke. ‘And other unmentionable things.’
‘Yuck, you stinky little boy!’ said Grace, roughing Filth all over, much to the pup’s delight.
‘Watch he doesn’t pee on you.’
A car door slammed.
‘Luke? Luke, is that you?’ Annie got out of Lawson’s ute and hurried down the path. ‘Luke! Good God, where have you been?’
He didn’t even tell Annie?
Annie gave him a frail hug. She had lost so much weight. She was tiny. He hugged her back. ‘Hi, Annie.’
She held his face in her hands. ‘Let me look at you. Have you been looking after yourself and eating properly? You’ve grown another foot! You’re getting so tall!’
Then she saw his arm. ‘What happened to your arm?’
‘Chasing brumbies,’ Luke grinned.
She rolled her eyes.
Lawson appeared behind her with a stern look on his face. He was freshly shaven and had changed into a clean set of clothes. He nodded at Luke without smiling.
Luke nodded back.
‘What you been up to?’ said Lawson.
‘Oh, hunting crocs, wrestling buffalo, that sort of thing,’ shrugged Luke. ‘You know how it is.’
Lawson smirked. He was having trouble keeping that straight face, Luke was sure.
‘Find any brumbies?’
‘Yeah, had to let them go.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘It was.’
‘Probably some good blood running through some of them. They mix with the station horses, get the hardiness of the brumbies mixed with the good working bloodlines.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Luke mumbled. They had already talked about this on the way home. Lawson knew the brumbies were gone, so why was he bringing it up again?
‘Go to any drafts?’
Luke nodded. ‘Just a small one, rough cattle.’
Lawson’s grin grew. ‘Pick up your winnings?’
‘No, they . . .’
He heard the hiss of brakes, and the double clutch of a truck coming down a gear as it groaned around the bend further up the road.
‘Probably would have paid for some transport costs,’ said Lawson. He was really struggling with that smirk. ‘Course, you gotta know who to talk to about that sort of thing. They can’t hand prize money over to just anyone.’
‘What transport costs?’
Lawson shrugged and walked toward
s the front gate. A large truck wheezed as it came to a stop in front of the property. He walked stolidly out into the road, grabbed hold of the side of the truck with one hand and jumped up. He looked inside and then jumped down again to wave the truck through the gates. ‘Back her up to the loading ramp, mate,’ he called to the driver.
Luke’s heart leapt into his throat. He pointed to the truck. ‘Is that . . . ?’
Lawson raised an eyebrow and began to open the back gate of the truck.
No way . . .
Rusty came out first, slipping and sliding down the ramp, calling to the other horses behind him. The two yearlings followed and then came a tiny, bleating foal.
‘Brumbies!’ squealed Grace. ‘Look at them!’
‘Chocky!’ said Luke, unable to believe his eyes as the big brown colt charged down the ramp, biting at the rumps of those in front. ‘How did you get him? He was—’ Lawson slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ask Bob.’
Luke looked into the back at the truck. The driver, a rotund little man with a comb-over and tight shorts, got out and slammed the door. He walked up to Luke with an electronic gadget in his hand.
‘Was there a brown mare?’ Luke asked him.
‘You the owner?’
Luke looked at Lawson, unsure. Lawson nodded.
‘Yep,’ Luke said.
‘Your mate asked me to tell you the brown mare died. The foal presented breach and they had to choose between the mare and the foal. He said to say sorry, he did the best he could. I’ve been stopping and trying to bottle-feed her along the way, but she hasn’t drunk much. Poor little thing. Didn’t think she’d make it, but she’s here.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ Luke took the gadget and scribbled a left-handed signature on the screen with a plastic pen. ‘I’ll look after your baby for you, Brownie,’ he said as he looked at the tiny foal. She was pathetically small, all elbows and knees, ribs poking out from under her dull coat.
‘I’ll help you look after her,’ said Grace. ‘Oh, she looks so little and hungry. Can we call her Tinkerbell?’
‘Tinkerbell? Pfft, girls and horses,’ Luke mumbled, as he looked at the wretched thing. ‘You can call her anything you like if she survives.’