by Paula Boer
During the two hour ride to the yards, they passed through forest and open grasslands, crossed a boggy plain and scrambled over rocks. The only tracks they encountered had been made by wombats and wallabies.
Louise happily trotted alongside Ben, enjoying his company and the beautiful day. “Why are the yards way out here?”
Ben looked across. “They were originally cattle yards for the homestead that burnt down before the park was made. I guess the rangers didn’t want to start from scratch again, and they’re near where the wild herds come for water at the end of summer. The place is actually on the old road. I’m going across country ’cause it’s shorter for us. The road is still good as it’s used by the tourists which makes it easy for the trucks to collect the horses after the muster.”
Louise didn’t want reminding of the muster that might mean the buckskin became dog meat. “I hope we catch the horses we saw last week.”
When they reached the yards, Ben jumped off Snip, giving him a pat as he loosened the girth. “Good man, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Both horses wore headcollars under their bridles. After unhooking the rope knotted loosely around his horse’s neck, Ben removed the bridle and tethered Snip to a huge oak tree.
Louise did the same with Ned. “Why do you think the ranger only gave your dad a permit for two weeks?”
Ben rattled the shafts of an old wagon where it had been abandoned in the long grass. “Probably wanted time for the wild horses to forget about our muster before the big round up. If they tried too soon after us, the horses would still be spooked and hard to chase.”
The yards stood at one side of a large clearing. On the other side, a single storey weatherboard homestead stood in ruins. The front door hung off its hinges and all the windows had at least one broken pane. Paint peeled from the gutters. What had once been an orchard stood neglected and overgrown.
Louise thought the place looked really sad. Rusted farm implements lay tangled in weeds as if the owners had gone in for dinner and never come back out.
“This place is spooky. What a pity the park can’t use it for something, like a bed and breakfast or a café.”
She followed Ben over to the yards. Half of the split rail fences had fallen down. None of the gates swung properly on their hinges. Most of the posts leant at sharp angles and had rotted with age. Grey-green lichen hung in brittle wisps from the timber.
Louise rattled a railing in its sockets. “These yards don’t look as if they’ve been used every year. They seem really rotten. Will they be okay?”
Crack! Another railing came away in Ben’s hands. “Not like this. Now I know why the permit came through so easily. Mr Cartwright must’ve wanted us to fix the yards, knowing how bad they’ve been getting. I’m surprised they didn’t lose all the horses last year at the muster.”
He kicked at a post. “I don’t think he intends for us to catch any horses at all. We’ll never get these repaired in time.”
Chapter 4
Mr Naylor stopped his old ute outside Louise’s house in Crowhurst. Ben jumped down from the cab. “I’ll go and get her.”
Before he even shut the door, he saw Louise walking down the front path. He opened the back door of the twin cab and returned to his seat in the front.
“Jump in. Move all that junk out of the way.”
Louise scrambled into the vehicle. “Hi, Ben. Morning, Mr Naylor.”
Ben noticed with relief that Louise wore tatty jeans and an old shirt. Her backpack bulged, no doubt with more of Mrs Hardy’s goodies. “Did you bring plenty of water? It’ll be hot work.”
“A couple of litres. And Mum packed us some juice too.” She clipped shut the seat belt as Mr Naylor drove off.
The noise of the diesel engine prevented Ben from saying much. Conversation with someone in the back was always difficult. That made a good excuse anyway, because he wasn’t really sure what to say to Louise. It was different when they were out riding. In front of his dad, things felt odd. He hoped Louise wouldn’t embarrass him when they worked on the yards.
A few kilometres out of town, Mr Naylor turned towards Jackstown. The road wound through farming country scattered with enormous boulders covered in moss like giant green wombats. A few trees dotted the paddocks where mobs of sheep grazed, heads down, all facing the same way. The spring lambs had lost their pristine whiteness and looked like dirty mushrooms where they lay sleeping in the sun.
They drove on through Jackstown and pulled up at the park gates. Mr Naylor pointed out to the attendant his annual pass stuck on the windscreen.
Rather than go on to the park Information Centre, Mr Naylor turned off onto a dirt road. Gravel flew from the tyres and ruts riddled the track. Ben wondered what Louise made of his dad’s driving as the vehicle bounced along with the fencing gear rattling around on the back. Although his father didn’t drive fast on the sealed roads, he didn’t slow down on the rough tracks. Ben held on to the overhead bar to keep himself from hitting his head.
They passed a locked gate onto another track and climbed higher. Stands of old gum trees appeared across the open grasslands. Here and there broken wire fences marked neglected paddock boundaries. No stock roamed this part of the park since the last farmer had left forty years earlier. Ben thought it a shame for all that work to go to waste.
A line of poplar trees, their yellow-green leaves so different to the olive-grey of the native eucalypts, announced the approach of the old homestead. Ben had often ridden through here and always marvelled at how the early settlers had made the place so different to the surrounding bush.
As his father stopped the ute and turned off the engine, Ben turned to Louise. “Let’s get working.”
Louise helped unload the tools and wire. “It’s such a shame the homestead has become so run down. It would have been beautiful when people lived here.”
Ben agreed. Full of energy, he hefted the metal star pickets over to the yards and leant them against the rails.
“Yeh, but then we wouldn’t have a park, and we wouldn’t be catching brumbies.”
Mr Naylor went through the gate and kicked at one of the posts. “You haven’t caught any yet. This place won’t hold in a legless donkey, let alone a bunch of wild horses.”
He walked around the perimeter, mumbling to himself. “This is a waste of time. There’s too much work to do here.”
His father’s reaction didn’t surprise Ben. He deliberately hadn’t told his father how badly the yards needed repair.
“With three of us we can make a big difference, Dad. Can’t we at least give it a couple of hours and see how it goes?”
Not only did he not want to lose the chance of catching the liver chestnut colt, Ben didn’t want Louise to think he had been making up the whole idea of the muster.
Louise hadn’t said a word while Ben discussed the condition of the yards with his father. “I’m happy to do whatever if you show me. Let’s at least give it a go.”
“Alright. Ben here’ll show you how to wire the rails to the posts. I’d better go and cut a few fresh ones. No point working with rotten timber. I’ll whistle when I’m done so you can help load. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.” Mr Naylor lugged his chainsaw back on the ute before driving off and down a track into the bush behind the homestead.
Ben ignored his father’s remark. Despite proving himself over and over again, his dad sometimes treated him like a child, usually at the most embarrassing moments. He supposed the comment was really for Louise.
“Come on, we’d better take down the ones that are no good.”
Ben and Louise worked together cutting wires to free the old rails. Despite Louise having to use both hands on the pliers to cut through the heavy gauge, Ben thought she did okay.
“Let’s stack the old ones over there on that cleared ground. Maybe Mr Cartwright will want to burn them
in the winter.”
They carried the rotten timber across what had been the old lawn to a dirt patch away from anything that could catch fire.
Ben lobbed rail onto rail until the stack piled almost as high as his head. “I hope Dad has found plenty of straight trees. We’re going to need a lot to replace these. It’s a good job the permit included permission to cut posts and rails.”
Louise shielded her eyes with one hand and pointed with the other. “Is that smoke over there?”
“Crikey!” Ben stood up straight and stared at the distant hills. “You’re right. And there shouldn’t be. It looks like a bush fire. Come on, we’d better tell Dad.”
Mr Naylor turned off the chainsaw as Ben raced towards him. “Dad, it looks like there’s a fire to the east.”
A look of concern crossed Mr Naylor’s face. “A big one? Bad time of year.”
Still gasping for breath from his frantic run, Ben nodded. “The smoke was pretty black and blowing hard. It looks like it’s near Goldriver.”
Ben’s father, like all the farmers in the area, volunteered with the bush fire brigade. As one of their crew leaders he would need to get people together and take out the fire truck kept at Tumbleford Farm. A dirt road cut through to Mirraburra from Jackstown so it wouldn’t take him long to get home.
Louise joined them at the side of the ute. “Can I come and help too?”
Ben shook his head. “Nah, we’re too young. And you have to be trained.”
He turned to his father. “We can stay here and keep working on the yards. You or Ma could fetch us later.”
He didn’t want the fire to destroy his chances of a brumby muster. “It looks like you’ve cut enough logs. If we drop them off at the yards, Louise and I can put them up.”
Mr Naylor scratched his head.
“We’ll be alright, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on the smoke.”
“Well, get loading then. And hurry it up.” Mr Naylor threw the first of the logs he had cut on to the back of the ute. “But if that fire changes direction and starts to come this way, walk to the Information Centre. I’ll tell them at the gate that you’re still here.”
The three of them returned to the yards in the old ute. Mr Naylor checked the horizon. “It’s only just started I reckon. Well spotted.”
A grey plume billowed above the hilltops, giving out bursts of black like an erupting volcano.
“Louise saw it first.” Ben helped unload the new rails. “Don’t worry about us, Dad.”
“Ben!” Louise grabbed his sleeve and whispered. “Who’s that?”
She pointed with her head in the direction of the old homestead. Sweat rolled from Ben’s forehead as he dragged the heavy logs. Flies buzzed around his eyes and mouth seeking the moisture. He flapped them away as he looked across the open space.
“Hey Dad, we’ve got company.”
Mr Naylor stopped unloading logs. “That’s Old Harry.”
He yelled at the stooped figure in the garden of the house. “Get away! You ain’t wanted ’ere!”
He swore under his breath and turned to Ben. “You mind our tools. That fellow’ll pinch anything that ain’t tied down.”
The old man disappeared behind the homestead.
Louise looked worried. “Is he dangerous? He won’t hurt us, will he?”
“Nah, but he’s a thief. Watch him more than that fire.” Mr Naylor gave Ben some final instructions for repairing the yard. “And don’t forget to clean out and fill the water trough.”
He drove off to summon a fire crew.
Ben swallowed the last of his sandwich and crumpled up the wrapper before stuffing it in his bag. “Let’s get back to work.”
Although the smoke on the horizon had continued to build through the morning, the fire didn’t appear to be moving their way. Ben and Louise had fitted half of the rails that Mr Naylor had cut.
“Would you have a bit of something for an ol’ man?”
The voice came from behind Ben, a deep croaky sound as if the speaker wasn’t accustomed to talking often. Ben jumped and looked around to see Old Harry standing within a few feet of him.
“What?” He stood and grabbed at his bag in case the tramp tried to snatch it.
Old Harry shuffled his tattered home-made boots in the dust. Despite the summer heat, layers of rags and animal skins wrapped his body, held in place with plaited bark.
“I thought you might have some lunch to spare. The possums have had all the pluMs”
As he spoke, the stranger’s whiskers wobbled up and down. His grizzled grey hair tangled with his long beard making it impossible to see where one started and the other finished.
Louise surprised Ben by handing the old man an orange. “Here, I don’t want this.”
Ben threw Louise a warning glance then glared at the visitor who smelt of old leather and sweat. “We’ve got a permit to do this work. What are you doing here?”
He tried to look casual as he walked across to the yards where they had left their tools. He sighed with relief when he saw all the equipment laid where they had left it.
The old man followed Ben. “You getting ready for the muster, are ya? Plenty of fine horses up here this year.”
“Yeh, we’ve seen them when we’ve been riding.” Ben tried to ignore the unwelcome man and indicated to Louise to lift the end of a large rail. “My dad’ll be back soon, so you’d better go.”
It seemed the threat worked, as Old Harry scratched at his armpits before heading back into the bush, holding the orange to his nose. Next time Ben looked, there was no sign the man had ever been there.
“He seems harmless enough. I wonder where he lives?” Louise puffed with exertion from the hard work.
“Dad says he lives somewhere in the park, but no-one really knows. Why did you give him your orange? You heard what Dad said about him. He’s a thief.”
Louise shrugged. “I was taught to share, and he did ask. I don’t suppose he gets much fruit if he lives out here.”
Ben thought that typical of girls, being soft instead of considering any threats. “Well, don’t encourage him. We don’t need trouble.”
He straightened up and scanned the hills. “Looks like the fire trucks are working. The smoke has almost gone.”
Only a few small wisps of grey could be seen on the skyline.
“That’ll mean Dad’ll be back soon. Come on, let’s get this finished. My uncle Graeme said he’d come this weekend to help with the muster if we’re ready, and my brother John’ll be here too.”
Chapter 5
Louise didn’t need her alarm clock on Saturday morning. The day of the muster! Her riding clothes lay neatly on the armchair in her bedroom from her preparations the night before. Her back pack only needed the fresh food from the fridge. She left the house without making a noise, not wanting to disturb her parents still in bed.
Although a heavy dew lay on the front lawn, the cloudless sky promised a beautiful day. No hint of a breeze stirred the gum leaves of her favourite tree. A bellbird’s chime rang out as if joining her in the excitement of the morning. Louise mounted her bike and headed off to Mirraburra.
By the time Louise reached Tumbleford Farm, the yard thronged with horses and men. Or so it seemed to Louise. In addition to Ben and his father, Ben’s older brother John had come home for the weekend. She knew he was usually away at agricultural college in western New South Wales but had offered to help with the muster. The other man must be Graeme, Ben’s uncle. Ben had told her that his uncle bred horses for a living and broke in all his own stock.
Louise wandered over to Ben who was saddling a gelding she hadn’t seen before.
“Who’s this?” She patted the velvety nose of the bay, whose upper lip twitched and trembled as she scratched at his crest.
“This is Jake, my dad’s old stockhorse. He knows eve
rything there is to know about mustering. We thought you might like to ride him today.” He adjusted the bridle to make the bit fit comfortably in the horse’s mouth, tight enough to wrinkle the lips but not so high as to come into contact with his teeth.
“Why doesn’t he have a mane?” Louise rubbed her hand up and down Jake’s bristles where he had been clipped.
Ben pointed out a rash along the top of the gelding’s neck. “He gets really itchy in summer and rubs himself sore if we don’t hog him. I think it might be insects biting him. Anyway, he’s happier like this.”
The horse nudged Louise when she stopped stroking him. “He’s pushy!”
She laughed as Jake nodded his head up and down as if agreeing with her.
“Yeh, well. He can be too smart for his own good. Remember he’ll do things without you asking him to.” Ben left her to adjust her stirrups and went over to Lady.
Louise adjusted the pack on her back and waited with Jake outside the yard. When the men had readied their horses, she mounted. The old stockhorse pawed at the ground.
“Steady, fella. We’ll go in a minute.”
Louise could feel the gelding’s energy bubbling underneath her. She hoped she could handle him.
Mr Naylor rode up beside her. “He’ll settle once we’re on our way. He’s a good horse, just make sure you tell him who’s boss.”
He called the others over. “Graeme, John, this ’ere is Ben’s friend Louise.”
Graeme doffed his Akubra hat to her. “G’day. I hear there’s a mare you’re keen on.”
Louise smiled. “Yes, but I like all the brumbies.”
John also said hello to her and gave her a big grin. Ben’s brother had the same rugged handsomeness and sparkle in his eyes. She guessed Ben had received a lot of teasing about inviting a girl along. She felt a bit awkward with the older men, though she much preferred the company of Ben and other boys to the giggly girls at school.