by Paula Boer
Ben jumped up and whistled Snifter. “Come on, grub time. For us both.”
The dog swam to the edge of the dam and ran alongside his master, stopping only for a good shake, wobbling on his one front leg.
“Get off! Now I’m soaked again.”
Boy and dog ran back to the farmhouse. After tying up Snifter, Ben kicked off his boots and went inside.
“What’s for dinner?”
Mrs Naylor turned to her son, a large pie dish in her hands. “You’re only just in time. Sit down and you’ll find out.”
She placed the dish on the table and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Good swim? The horses look like you had a good run from the amount of sweat on them when you came home.”
“Yeh, Louise can ride okay. We gave them a good hose down before letting them out.” Ben waited for his father to help himself to the pie before doing the same. “We had a race along the fire trail. Saw quite a few brumbies up there too.”
Mr Naylor swallowed a large mouthful. “They’ll be bringing ’em down in a few weeks.”
The old wooden chair groaned as Ben shuffled on his seat. “Dad, could you use a few more horses?”
He kept his eyes on his plate, forking up another mouthful of steak and kidney.
Across the table, Ben’s father raised his eyebrows. “You’re not thinkin’ of them brumbies are ya?”
Ben stuttered a reply. “Maybe. Louise saw a buckskin she liked. She can’t bear the thought of it being culled. And there was a colt I thought was okay.”
A harrumph sounded from across the table. “Bloody ferals. They’re no good as work horses. Too hard to handle. Anyway, the doggers pay good cash. I can’t afford that.”
“Can’t we catch the wild horses ourselves? It wouldn’t be much different to mustering the cattle.”
As much as he respected his dad, Ben didn’t always agree with him. He felt confident that he could break in the wild horses and make them useful. The challenge appealed to him.
Mrs Naylor collected the dirty plates. “You’d need a permit to catch them in the park. You can’t just go in and help yourself. Maybe you should talk to the ranger, what’s his name? Adam Cartwright, isn’t it?”
“Don’t go putting ideas in his ’ead.” Mr Naylor sat back in his chair and belched. “But if you can catch ’em for nothin’, and train ’em to saddle, sure we could use a few more horses. It’s always good to have young ’uns coming on or to have a spare in case one goes lame.”
From his father’s expression, Ben could tell his dad didn’t think he could catch the brumbies, let alone make them rideable. Determination grew in his mind.
“So you won’t stop me if I give it a go?”
“Do as your ma says, and talk to Adam whatsisname first. No point discussin’ anything ’til after that.”
The next morning, Ben rose earlier than usual. He had dreamt of wild horses in the night, and breaking in the liver chestnut colt. Every time he went to mount, he woke up.
He wanted to share his ideas of a muster with Louise.
She answered on the second ring of the telephone. “Hello, Louise speaking.”
“Hi. I’ve got an idea about the brumbies. Are you doing anything today?” Ben rushed out the words. He wasn’t in the habit of calling girls.
“Oh, hi, Ben! An idea? What?” Louise sounded excited.
Ben took a deep breath. “I spoke to my folks about us possibly catching a few. You know, and breaking them in maybe. Dad says he could use a few more horses.”
It wasn’t quite what his father had said, but he thought it sounded better than the real conversation.
“We need to talk to the ranger about a permit. I thought we could go and see him.”
“Awesome! I’ll check with Mum.”
Before Ben could say any more, Louise put the phone down. He could hear her in the background, chatting with her mother. In a few moments, she came back.
“Today’s cool. I can cycle to Jackstown. It’s only five ks. Shall I meet you there?”
Ben released his breath. “Yeh. About ten. The ranger is always there then, apparently. Later in the day he goes to the park.”
After making more detailed arrangements, Ben hung up. He went outside to feed the poddy calves with a light step.
Only a few cars drove along the road beside the lake. Three yachts with multi-coloured sails skimmed across the water, barely making a ripple. A couple of joggers ran along the footpath with a large shaggy poodle trotting along behind its owner. Jackstown had been built off the main road and only existed to support tourists visiting the park, mainly bushwalkers and fishermen in the summer and a handful of cross-country skiers in the winter.
Ben cycled up to Louise where she sat on a bench outside the old stone park headquarters. The warm sunshine reflected his mood.
“Been here long?”
Louise removed her sunglasses. “No, only a few minutes. I enjoyed the ride. So what’s happening?”
After chaining their bikes to the railing, Ben removed his helmet. “I kept thinking about what you said about the brumbies going to the doggers. I agree it would be a real shame. There’s a colt I liked the look of, and I think you picked a good one with that buckskin.”
“Cool!” Louise beamed. “She’s really beautiful and graceful.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, watching a lone kayaker struggle with his paddle.
“Maybe I could keep her if we catch them, if I can convince my parents.” Louise’s voice sounded as if she thought that would be a bit of a problem.
“Come on, let’s go and see the ranger.” Without waiting for Ben, she climbed the front steps and pushed open the glass front door.
Ben rang the bell on the counter.
A slim, fit looking man, wearing the parks uniform of khaki shirt and trousers, came out of the back room. “Can I help you?”
Standing tall to try and look older, Ben introduced himself and explained what they wanted. “I’ve had plenty of mustering experience. My family has a thousand acres at Mirraburra where we run cattle and sheep.”
The ranger placed his hands palms-down on the counter. “It’s not that simple. You have to be over eighteen to get a permit and you’d have to repair the yards to catch them in. I don’t fix them until right before the round-up in February. And you can’t take pregnant mares, or the herd stallions.”
Ben’s heart sank. It didn’t seem as easy as he’d hoped. “But is it possible? If we can work all that out, can we do it?”
Louise stood silently beside him, twisting her fingers together. He’d hate to think he’d raised her hopes only to have them dashed down.
A filing cabinet drawer squeaked as Adam pulled it out. “Here’s the application for a permit. Get your parents to fill it in. You’ll need to return it within a few days or you won’t have time before the roundup.”
Getting the paperwork seemed like a good sign. Ben sighed with relief. “Thanks. We’ll be back.”
The ranger held up his hand. “One more thing. You can only keep the horses in the yards for one night. Then you have to truck them out. You can’t work them in the park.”
“No worries. Dad can do that.”
Ben’s thoughts already raced ahead to rounding up the wild horses. What would be the best way to make sure they caught the ones they wanted?
Chapter 3
Louise sat in the shade of the old gum tree in her back yard, drawing horses. She enjoyed the feel of the rough bark through her T-shirt. Resting her sketch pad on her knees, she selected the dun brown pencil and coloured in the body of a galloping filly. She added a black mane and tail flying in the wind. Satisfied with her efforts, she placed her pad on the ground and watched a sulphur-crested cockatoo in the tree above her, its head rocking from side to side as it looked back.
Mrs Hardy called
from the back door of the house, a clarinet in her hands. “Louise, Ben’s on the phone.”
“Great!” Louise jumped up. She hadn’t heard from Ben for a few days. He said he had to work on the farm. She skipped indoors, hoping they could go out for a ride.
“Hi, Ben. What’s happening?”
Ben couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “The permit’s come through. Do you want to come to Jackstown with me to pick it up?”
The unexpected news made Louise’s heart race. “Cool! I can be there by eleven.”
She chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Louise poured herself a glass of chocolate milk and went through to the small music room where her mother taught her students.
Mrs Hardy stood in the far corner, practicing on her clarinet. “How’s Ben? Are you going riding again?”
“No, well, yes!” Louise could barely contain her excitement. “The permit to catch the brumbies has come through. We need to collect it from the ranger.”
She perched on the piano stool and wrung her hands, her stomach fluttering with nerves. “Mum, if we manage to catch some horses, can I please keep one?”
Mrs Hardy nestled her instrument in its case and sat next to Louise on the stool, cuddling up close. She wrapped her arm around her daughter.
“Where would we keep it darling? The garden’s not big enough. And they’re very expensive. We’ve only been in Crowhurst a few months. Let’s wait a while before we make such a big commitment.”
“Couldn’t we rent the paddock next door? Mr Luciano doesn’t use it. It’s only going to weeds.” She grasped her mother’s hand. “Please, Mum!”
“Let’s talk about it over dinner tonight. We’ll see what your dad thinks, but don’t get your hopes up.”
She walked behind her music stand to resume her practice. “It’s a pity you don’t just want a guitar like your brother. Even a set of drums would be preferable. Why is it always animals with you?”
She must have seen the tears that started to well in Louise’s eyes because her face softened. “Why don’t you ask Ben if you could treat one of the horses his father takes as your special one?”
Louise could tell the conversation had ended as far as her mother was concerned. Her excitement turned to despondency. It would be so neat to round up the brumbies, especially as she had set her heart on the buckskin mare. She had dreamt of owning her own horse ever since her first riding lesson.
When the family had moved to the country town of Crowhurst for Mr Hardy’s work, Louise had been certain it would only be a matter of time before her dream came true. She thought she had enough savings in the bank for a second-hand saddle and bridle, and maybe a rug. Although she knew it took quite a lot of money to keep a horse with feeding, shoeing, and vet bills, she hoped to earn some money doing odd jobs like gardening.
Saving the buckskin mare for someone else to enjoy wouldn’t be the same.
Ben sat on the bench at the lakeside where they met before. Louise leant her bike against his. They chatted for a few minutes about what each other had been doing the last few days.
“Come on, let’s go see Mr Cartwright.”
The pair climbed the front steps of the park headquarters and went inside. A loud voice filled the room.
A beefy man in moleskin trousers and an open-necked shirt thumped his fist on the wooden countertop. “Damn well get on to it. You bureaucrats are all the same. All talk and no action.”
Mr Cartwright stood behind the counter. The ranger looked relieved to see Ben and Louise.
“Ah, young Naylor. I’m glad you’ve come in.”
Cutting the conversation short with the blustering man opposite him, he rifled through a stack of papers on his desk and extracted a folder. The other man drummed his fingers and mumbled under his breath. He seemed to take up the whole counter.
Louise waited near an information board while Ben approached and spoke to the ranger. “Ma said the permit is here. What happens now?”
“As I told you, your father will need to repair the yards before he can do a round up.” Mr Cartwright flipped to the front of the file and extracted a sheet of paper. “This permit is valid for two weeks from today.”
Louise baulked when she heard how soon the permit would expire. With her mind in a whirl, she barely heard the ranger continue. She hoped Ben was paying attention as she only caught the final instruction.
“Once he’s caught the horses he wants, he must brand them and register them with me. I’ve included the forms in here.”
Mr Cartwright handed Ben a large envelope.
Bang! Louise jumped at the sudden noise.
The impatient man loomed over Ben and slammed the counter again with his hand. “Not horses from the park?”
He poked a finger at the ranger. “You can’t go giving away my horses! They’re my bloodstock, my property.”
His red face puffed up like a bullfrog and his eyebrows and moustache wriggled like fat hairy caterpillars. If Louise hadn’t been so shocked at his outburst she would have laughed.
Mr Cartwright seemed unruffled. “Now Robert, we’ve been through all this before. They aren’t your horses, not now, and probably never have been. If they are in the park, I say what happens to them. Mr Naylor has applied for a permit, and I’ve given him two weeks to capture a maximum of twenty horses. There’ll be plenty left for the main round up.”
Twenty! Louise swapped looks with Ben. They had never imagined they would be allowed so many.
The gruff man stormed out the front door, calling back over his shoulder. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be back tomorrow about that other business. Have it sorted by then.”
The door slammed behind him.
Louise joined Ben at the counter. “Who was that? Are they his horses? I thought the horses were wild. What did he mean?”
“That’s Robert Smythe-Waters. He owns a large property on the east of the park.” Ben looked as if he wanted to say more as he clutched the envelope to his chest.
Mr Cartwright scratched his head, as if uncertain whether to say anything. “His wife’s family used to run cattle in summer on leasehold land in the high country, but that practice has been stopped. Mr Smythe-Waters claims that the brumbies are all bred from mares and stallions from his farm, so he doesn’t like other people catching them. Not even park officials.”
Louise took it all in. “But even if the horses did come from his farm, they must have been released, or escaped, so surely he doesn’t still own them?”
“No, he doesn’t. And I doubt they came from his place either.” From the way he spoke, the ranger didn’t seem to like the man. “Of course there weren’t wild horses here before white settlement, but most of the original stock date back to when the hydro scheme was built. When the dams were finished, there was no need for the work horses any more, so they were let go.”
What the ranger said made sense. The teachers at school had explained how the hydro scheme had taken most of the 1950s and 1960s to complete. A lot of the work had been done by European migrants. Many of Louise’s friends at school came from families who worked on the hydro. When the scheme was completed, the workers found other jobs or moved away.
Mr Cartwright looked back to Ben. “If you don’t catch any horses yourselves, you can buy some at the sales after the muster in February. That is, if you can outbid Smythe-Waters for his pet food business.”
The next day, Louise leapt out of bed at six o’clock. After eating a slice of toast and peanut butter while she dressed, she cycled to Ben’s farm. They had arranged to ride to the park’s horse yards to check them out and wanted to have plenty of time. Two horses stood ready saddled. Louise recognised the Appaloosa though she hadn’t seen the black gelding before.
“I’ve given you Ned again. You seemed to like him the other day.” Ben checked the tack on his horse who fidgeted an
d chomped on his bit.
“Thanks.” Louise climbed through the wooden railing and went over to her gelding. “Hello, boy.”
She stroked his velvety nose and straightened his forelock before untying the reins and tightening his girth. After fastening her riding helmet, she swung a small pack onto her shoulders and led Ned out of the yard.
“Mum’s packed another lunch for us. We won’t starve.”
“I hope you don’t have crumbly cake again.”
Ben’s gelding spun in circles as he tried to mount. He shortened his inside rein and stopped the nervous horse. With a quick spring he landed gently in the saddle.
“I’ll take the bounce out of Snip before we go. I only broke him in before Christmas.”
Louise sat relaxed on Ned. “Sure. Cool.”
She watched with interest as Ben, still in the sand yard, flexed the horse’s neck to touch the toes of his boots. He bent the horse’s head round to the left, then the right, then the left, then the right. At first the horse opened his mouth and leant on the bit. Gradually his mouth closed and softened, his head bent at the poll and his neck lost its stiffness. Finally, Ben held the horse’s head close to his leg until the gelding relaxed. Louise saw the horse wriggle his lips as he settled. When he let out a long sigh, Ben released the tight rein.
Urging the young horse forward in a small circle, Ben rode a couple of figure of eights, changing the bend of the horse at the centre-point each time. When the horse seemed calm, Ben rode him around the outside of the round yard and broke into a sitting trot. After a few laps he cantered the horse in both directions, making sure the horse led with the correct leg.
“I think he’s okay now. Can you open the gate, please?”
Bending down to reach the latch, Louise did as asked without having to dismount. Pleased that Ned responded easily, she backed him up to let Ben through on his youngster. She could see why Ben called him Snip; he was totally black except for a small white snip on his nose.