by Paula Boer
Louise walked over to Lady, approaching her shoulder. “Hello, girl. It’s only me. I won’t disturb your eating.”
She stroked the mare’s neck, then scratched her withers. The mare ignored her as she opened the leather bag that hung behind the saddle and extracted the plastic fishing reel.
“There’re some worms in that take-away container.” Ben pointed out the tub next to his fishing gear. “Anyway, how’re you feeling?”
“Good. I was going crazy at home.” Louise squatted next to Ben and threaded a worm onto a hook before dropping the line into the water. “I’m surprised fish live here.”
Ben grinned. “They like the shade of the pontoon, and people always throw food and things in the water. I often catch one, but don’t tell anyone else.”
The two friends sat in companionable silence. Louise enjoyed the feel of the sun on her back. Nothing nibbled at her hook. She gave it a few gentle pulls, and then reeled it in.
“Oh! I’ve lost my worm. No wonder I haven’t caught anything.”
She rolled the line up and leant back on her hands. “Lady is having an easy day too. How come you’re not working on the farm?”
Ben shrugged. “Dad’s gone to the bull sales out west. He said I should have a few days off before going back to school.”
Louise grimaced. “Don’t remind me. And that means the big muster is coming soon. I can’t believe we managed to get a permit to catch brumbies then didn’t save any. How gruesome is that?”
Ben reeled in his line to check his bait and threw it out again. “I’m not sure we should even ride together any more. I’d like to of course, but Dad thinks I’m mad to worry about the wild horses and Ma is upset that you got ill.”
“What? But that wasn’t your fault. Why shouldn’t we ride?” Louise brushed her fringe out of her eyes, trying to control her anger. “I love going into the mountains with you. Don’t say we won’t do it again.”
The thought of not galloping across those open plains nor exploring the forests and fording streams seemed even worse at that moment than not catching the brumbies.
Chapter 10
A stiff wind blew through the trees, rattling leaves and making the branches thrash over Ben’s head. Snip pranced and pulled, chafing at the bit.
“Steady up, fella. I don’t want my head knocked off.”
The young gelding continued to dance, making Ben duck under low branches, twisting this way and that to navigate through the forest. Despite having been out for over two hours, Snip played up as if they’d just left home.
Ben came close to losing his temper with his horse, but he knew that would only make matters worse. He tried to calm down by taking a few deep breaths. The anger he felt at the world simmered, refusing to go away. His foul mood grew as he thought of the brumbies being released, Louise getting sick and the new school year looming.
Neither his nor Louise’s parents wanted them to ride together. He realised how much he enjoyed her company. What had started out as having someone help get the horses fit had developed into a true friendship. And now he was supposed to stop riding with her.
Life wasn’t fair. He should have been spending his spare time breaking in his liver chestnut colt—he still thought of the horse as his, even though he hadn’t caught it yet. One day, he promised himself, that horse will be mine.
Lost in his thoughts, Ben covered many more kilometres. Normally a mountain ride cheered him up, but not today. His rumbling stomach told him how much time had passed so he looked for a spot to have lunch. Twisted snow gum branches tossed in the wind, beckoning him like the fingers of wicked witches. He decided to avoid the dark woods. He could hear the tinkling of a creek, so headed in that direction.
Ben realised he had ventured into a part of the park he had never been in before. He couldn’t remember where he had differed from his usual path. It must have been somewhere past the old mines. Great! An adventure. Just what he wanted.
Scanning the horizon, Ben could see Mt. Evans far off to the east. So, he’d travelled further west than normal. He didn’t normally come this way as the ridge between here and the old road consisted of steep cliff faces and rocky slopes. The grey walls ended at another peak, one with no name. Or at least, no name he knew.
By the time Ben had worked out his location, the creek came in sight. He pushed Snip forward so he could drink. The horse took a tentative step towards the water then backed off. Ben shortened his reins and pushed the horse harder with his legs.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s only water, you idiot.” He kicked Snip hard in the ribs, remembering how he had shied before at a creek.
Snip reared and pawed the air with his front hooves. Taken by surprise, Ben lost his reins. The black gelding spun, unseating his rider. Ben made a grab for one rein and pulled with all his might on the horse’s head. Snip’s neck bent round to Ben’s knee but then he swung his quarters round. He kicked his heels high in the air.
Already insecure, Ben lost his grip. As Snip continued to plunge around in tight circles, Ben tried to regain his seat. He lost both stirrups and they swung on the leathers, knocking him in the shins. Snip rounded his back, tucked his head between his knees and gave a huge buck.
Ben flew through the air, tensing as the ground rushed towards him. He thought he could see every stone as they came nearer to his face. After what seemed like ages, the hard creek bank met his chest with a thud, knocking all the air out of his lungs.
Ben lost hold of Snip’s reins. He didn’t feel the stinging grazes on his arms or the gash across his face. Apart from the ringing in his ears, he could only hear Snip’s hoof beats pounding into the distance as he realised his horse ran free. It would be a long walk home.
Cursing under his breath, Ben tried to sit up. As he raised himself on his elbows, he felt a pair of eyes watching him. There, not a metre from his face, lay an enormous black snake, its tongue flicking in and out as it tasted the air.
Ben froze, hoping the snake hadn’t been upset by almost being trodden on by a horse when it had probably only wanted a drink. He knew that yellow-bellied blacks didn’t usually attack unless they felt threatened.
No wonder Snip had acted like he had. A moment of regret crossed Ben’s mind. He should have realised something other than naughtiness caused Snip’s behaviour.
Taking care to move slowly, Ben slid backwards on his belly to get well away from the snake. He changed to a squat, and then straightened up, every muscle tight. Having gained a standing position, he took one step back, then another.
The snake turned and slithered away along the side of the creek.
Ben’s shoulders slumped as he let out a long breath. He splashed cold water on his face to clean the cut and clear the fuzziness in his head.
Then he remembered Snip. Ben dusted off his clothes and took a drink from his water bottle. Fortunately he had brought a day pack today rather than the saddle bags. He wiped his face on his sleeve before looking to see which direction his horse had run. Deep hoof prints marked Snip’s direction towards the snow guMs Ben followed them up the hill.
The dark interior of the forest offered no clues about where Snip had run. Ben tried to find hoof prints or broken twigs, but the leaf and bark litter covering the ground showed no marks.
The wind had caused a lot of damage after the recent rains- branches seemed broken everywhere he looked.
Standing still to listen, Ben heard a rustle in the under- growth off to his right. He headed in that direction, sure that Snip must have snagged his reins or stirrup irons and been pulled up. Good, he wouldn't have to walk home.
The noises intensified. Ben raced ahead, calling to his horse, thinking that the gelding might be in trouble. He didn't want a panicked horse charging through the undergrowth at him.
Grunt! Squeal! A dozen black shapes hurtled past Ben. Before he even realised what happened, searing
heat shot up his leg. Pain set in and his face broke out in a sweat, stinging the cut on his cheek.
Pigs! He had stumbled on their day nest and they had bolted. One of them must have gouged him with its tusks as it ran past. Ben looked to see if the boar or sow would return to fight. He knew how aggressive the animals could be when disturbed and he had seen a large litter of piglets scamper by.
No further movements shook the scrub.
The pain in Ben's leg took over his thoughts. He needed to do something about it. Blood poured from the wound and ran into his boot. Snapping off a large branch for a walking stick, Ben hobbled back to the creek to wash his leg.
Ben removed his boot and used his penknife to cut away the bottom of his jeans leg where it had been shredded by the pig's tusk. The cold water stung as he laid his leg in the creek until numbness settled in. The wound had stopped bleeding but needed stitches.
"This'll be your 'orse then."
The low voice startled Ben. He turned to look over his shoul- der and couldn't believe his eyes. There stood Snip, chewing on a mouthful of grass, with Old Harry hanging on to his reins.
"Yeh, thanks." Ben gaped in surprise.
What were the chances of anyone being out here in the wilds, let alone being able to catch his horse? And then to know where to locate its rider.
"Where did you find him?"
At least he didn't have to worry about how he would get home. Sure he'd be able to ride, Ben knew he'd have to mount from the off side because of his bad leg. Fortunately he'd trained Snip to accept everything from both sides.
Old Harry stroked his long beard. "He came to me. I live nearby. I was picking mushrooms in the forest."
He stuffed his hand into the deep pockets of his coat and pulled out a large fungus.
It didn't look like any mushroom Ben had ever seen. "Isn't that poisonous?"
A shooting pain in his leg made him wince as he tried to
stand. "Can you give me a hand, please? I'll try and get on." "That leg looks bad. You'd better come to my hut and let me
do something for yer. It's not far." He held Snip's head as Ben lifted his right leg into the stirrup.
Stroking Snip's nose, Old Harry murmured to the horse.
Ben knew his leg needed urgent attention, but he didn't trust the old guy. His father said Old Harry was a thief. Maybe if he went with him he'd get robbed, or worse. Then he thought further. The tramp hadn't had to bring him back his horse. He could have stolen everything off him and turned him loose. And his leg really did hurt.
"Do you have bandages? I think it needs wrapping up." "I've got everything it needs. And something for the pain.
Come on, follow me." Without waiting for an answer, Old Harry strode back towards the forest.
Ben let Snip follow Old Harry along a faint trail that led up into the hills. His guide moved surprisingly quickly for an old fella. Ben felt faint and couldn't think straight. Staying in the saddle took all his concentration.
Maybe he should head home? But it was a long way, and by now he didn't really know where he was. He would have to trust the old man. When he felt better he could worry about getting back to the farm.
The track crossed the ridge then headed down into a steep ravine. Snip picked his way along, calm and relaxed. Ben real- ised that Snip's earlier bad manners had been a reflection of his own anger. He let his injured leg dangle on the horse's side without using the stirrup. It hurt too much to lean on his foot. Snip stepped out into a clearing, stopping with his head erect and ears pricked. In the centre sat a square bark hut thatched with a tangle of branches, leaves and bits of corrugated iron.
A small cooking fire smoked in front of the doorway, but that wasn't what had alerted Snip. A mule grazed nearby.
Snip snorted. He had never seen a mule before. If Ben hadn't been in so much pain he would have laughed.
Ben let Old Harry help him dismount before collapsing on a chair made from an old mine bucket. His host took Snip's reins and tied him to the rail of a small yard. Ben realised that must be where the mule spent the night.
He looked around him as Old Harry disappeared inside the hut. All sorts of tools leant against trees or stumps, trans- formed from their original use into something else. Strips of drying meat hung from old bed springs, herbs had been laid out to dry on a vehicle's radiator, and a milk churn appeared to hold fresh water.
"Here, drink this." Old Harry handed Ben a tin mug then pulled up a stump to sit beside him.
A pleasant smell rose from the mug. Ben wasn't sure
whether he should drink it or not. What if it was poison? But the arguments that had gone through his head before he fol- lowed Old Harry home quelled his worries.
He took a sip. "What is it?" "Something to stop the pain. I make it myself from plants and bark. That's wild raspberry
you can taste. It takes away the bitterness." Harry unrolled a soft leather pouch.
Ben could see it contained what looked like bone needles, and fine thread-animal gut he supposed. "What are you going to do?"
After threading a needle, Old Harry tested its strength with a hard pull. "I need to stitch that wound. If yer leave it until you get home it'll be too late and you'll have a nasty scar."
He took hold of Ben's leg and rested it up on his knees.
Concern flashed through Ben's mind. "Are you sure it needs it? I washed it in the creek, and I can wrap it up for now."
The bushman chuckled. "Don't you worry. I'm better at this than any nurse in a hospital. Have to be, living on me own out here."
Ben decided he didn't have much choice and agreed the cut needed stitches. Too weak to argue, Ben could feel the drug start to take effect. His willpower left him and he dozed while Old Harry worked on his leg.
The old man's words and a tugging on his skin dragged him awake.
"Now you're fit to catch those brumbies again that got let out." Harry slipped away the needle and rolled up the medical pouch.
"What do you know about the brumbies?"
Suspicion crossed Ben's mind. Perhaps this old guy did let the brumbies out after all? But why would he say to catch them again? It didn't make sense. Ben shook his head to try to clear the confusion from his mind.
Old Harry pottered around, filling a billy with water and stoking the fire. He took an armful of loose dry grass from a pile near the yard and fed it to Snip. He brought back an armful of logs which he dropped next to his stump seat.
"I'd rather see you young ones have the brumbies than them go for meat. There are too many up in these hills to be sure, but I don't like to see 'em butchered. When are you going to try again?"
Thoughts tumbled around in Ben's head-his father's view of this guy as a tramp and a thief, Louise giving him an orange, his own relief from pain in his wounded leg.
He supposed that he should trust this man, seeing as how he had helped him so much already. "We can't. Dad won't let us, and the permit has run out. Louise and I tried last week but it hailed and everything went wrong."
Old Harry muttered a few oaths under his breath. "You made a good job of those yards at the old homestead. You could build yer own where no-one will find them. Then you can muster horses and sneak them home without anyone knowing."
He looked up at Ben with a big grin through his whiskers, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "I know a perfect place."
Chapter 11
The morning breeze rippled the surface of Lake Cumber as Louise bounced down the path from the road. She couldn’t wait to meet up with Ben. He had sounded so excited on the phone last night, but wouldn’t tell her why. She guessed it must have to do with the brumbies.
Ben sat in exactly the same place as she had seen him at the lake before, fishing off the jetty. Ben’s old bike lay on the ground next to him. He looked over his shoulder as Louise approached then jumped up, reeling in h
is line.
“You’re earlier than I expected.”
“Mum left early to teach some kids in Goldriver, so that made it easy for me to get out without having to say anything. What’s going on?” Louise sat on the grass next to Ben’s fishing gear.
Ben settled next to Louise and started to take the hook and reel off his rod. “I’ve got to muster the sheep soon so I can’t hang around long, but I think we’ve got another chance to catch brumbies.”
“No way! How?”
Louise’s face lit up. She had thought maybe Ben had seen another herd, but she hadn’t dare dream that they might still be able to catch them.
Her stomach sank as other thoughts came to her. Why had Ben revved her up just to sink her hopes?
“But the permit’s expired, and your dad won’t help us with the truck. And I doubt my parents will be happy about me mustering again after the last two times. Remember, I’m not even supposed to go riding with you.”
The smile hadn’t gone from Ben’s face, in fact it had grown into a big grin. “We don’t need a permit, or any other permission. Remember Old Harry?”
When Louise nodded, he continued. “I met him when Snip bucked me off, and he…”
“What! You didn’t tell me about that. What happened? Are you alright?” She changed position on the grass to look Ben over.
Ben turned his left leg to Louise and showed her his stitches. He wore shorts to keep his calf open to the air instead of his usual jeans.
“A pig got me with its tusk. Harry stitched me up. Ma says it’s the best job she’s ever seen.”
Louise looked on, her eyes large and mouth open like the dead fish in Ben’s bucket. She had been expecting exciting news, like Ben talking about catching brumbies again, but then he tells her he’s come off Snip and been gouged by a feral pig. Her mind spun. What on earth was going on?