Edge of the Rain

by Beverley Harper

  Jeff shrugged. ‘He’ll just have to learn the hard way.’ He left them to talk to Artie.

  Willie saw Alex’s troubled face. ‘Jeff’s all right,’ he said, misinterpreting Alex’s unease. ‘Hard man but he’s fair.’

  ‘Is it true about Pat, that he killed someone?’

  ‘Told you that did he? Yeah it’s true enough. Pat’ll tell you himself if you ask. Jeff should keep his mouth shut though. Not his place to talk about Pat’s life.’

  The argument had turned into a scuffle. Pat shoved Kel who swung at him. Pat easily deflected the blow and turned away, secure in his big competent body. Kel snatched a glass from the table and smashed it. He lunged at Pat with the jagged end. Pat sensed it coming, sidestepped quickly and brought his arm up and around Kel’s neck, cutting off his air. ‘Little boys should not play with dangerous toys. Time you cooled off, boyo.’ Kel was marched outside with half the men following to watch. Pat tipped him headfirst into a water trough.

  ‘He’ll have to watch his back now,’ Willie said, worried. ‘That Kel’s shaping up as a nasty piece of work.’

  Kel did not reappear. No-one knew how he made it back but, by the time they drove into the yard at the ranch, his boots were on the verandah where everyone left them.

  Sunday. The day of rest never had such meaning. Alex wrote a long letter to his family. Then he went to see Nightmare. She started nervously when she saw the bridle and saddle. No-one had ever gone back for a second try before. But she stood still and allowed him to slip the bridle over her head and buckle the saddle tightly. Several men drifted over.

  ‘Like to fly do you, fella?’ Artie called.

  ‘Nah, he just likes it when the pain stops,’ Bob said.

  Alex ignored them. Nightmare had caught him unawares before. This time he was ready for her. He swung into the saddle, deflecting her snapping teeth near his backside. Nightmare stood still, muscles in her neck flicking and rippling. Alex dug his heels into her sides. Nightmare rippled. He flicked the reigns. She rippled. He leaned forward to pat her neck. Nightmare bucked.

  Jesus! She’d done it again.

  The men cheered as he got up. Several more had arrived to watch the fun.

  He approached her cautiously. He had broken one of his father’s horses. He believed the way to do it was with patience and gentleness. He spoke softly and slowly held out his hand. Nightmare’s teeth snapped so close to his skin he felt an electric shock. He swung into the saddle swiftly. Nightmare went back to rippling.

  This time he just sat there. His legs gripped her tightly. When she gathered herself to buck he was balanced. She only bucked the once and he stayed on easily. Then she trotted around the yard.

  ‘Hey, boyo, you’ve done it!’ Pat was watching.

  Alex didn’t think so. Neither did Nightmare. She bucked five times in quick succession. He hung on grimly, his breakfast threatening to burst from his mouth. Nightmare snorted and tossed her head in disbelief that he was still there. Then Kel thrust a stick through the railing and jabbed her soft flank. Nightmare went mad, bucking and turning, pronking like a springbok, shaking and jerking. Alex wanted to get off for her sake, before she did herself some damage, but he couldn’t. The horse finally stopped in trembling exhaustion.

  He swiftly dismounted and examined her flank. A thin trickle of blood ran from where the stick had cut the soft skin. Pat was just on the other side of the railing. He handed him the reigns. ‘Take the saddle off.’ Then he jumped the fence and strode over to Kel.

  ‘What the hell did you do that for?’

  Kel looked spitefully smug. ‘Do what?’

  Alex could not remember ever having been so angry. He shot out his hand. Kel thought a punch was coming and jumped back but Alex snatched the stick and jabbed it straight into Kel’s arm. ‘How do you like it?’

  Kel swung at him. The blow glanced off his jaw.

  Alex had never had a fist fight in his life. He had sparred in fun a few times with Pa and enjoyed the odd scuffle at school but that was all. Kel had the instincts of a street fighter. He aimed a kick at Alex’s groin. Alex avoided it but the kick deadened the top of his leg. The leg would not take his weight and he nearly fell. Kel was steadying himself for another kick and Alex did something he had never done before: he lost his temper. Using his good leg, he propelled himself straight at Kel who fell over backwards under the weight. They grappled on the ground, each one trying to get the upper hand. Kel grabbed a fistful of dirt. Pat shouted a warning and Alex closed his eyes a fraction of a second before the dirt hit them.

  The dirty fighting tactics of Kel pushed Alex into a deep rage. His ears thundered with hot blood and strength surged into his limbs. A primitive instinct to kill, kill, kill rose powerfully inside him. He felt no pain, just a deep satisfaction each time his fist connected with Kel’s face. Pat had to pull him off. When the mist cleared behind his eyes and he saw what he had done he was appalled. Kel lay half conscious, flat on his back. His face was a mess of blood and dirt. The surging rage left him as quickly as it had come as, weaving, he stared down at Kel. Sickened, he turned and lurched for the bunkhouse. He felt no sense of pride at Kel’s defeat, he was disgusted. He sensed someone watching and looked up. Madison stood, a look of disdainful dislike on her beautiful face. She had seen the fight.

  He threw himself under the shower. The aftermath of the sudden surge of adrenalin left him weak. Pat found him there and pulled him out, tossed him a towel, took him to his room and would have dressed him if Alex had let him. ‘You did the right thing, boyo. That Kel has had it coming since he got here.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘No, Pat. I lost my temper. I might have killed him.’

  The bed heaved as Pat sat next to him. ‘I killed someone that way. Vowed never to lose my temper again.’

  ‘It happened so fast,’ Alex whispered, shaken at his loss of control.

  ‘No-one blames you, boyo. Kel’s bad news. Artie wants to sack him but Jeff says give him a fair go. Just stay away from him from now on, it’s all you can do.’

  The loss of common decent behaviour scared him. He never suspected he had that kind of violence in him. ‘The man you killed, what did he do?’

  ‘Beat up a woman.’

  He bowed his head. All Kel had done was poke a stick at a horse. Pat knew what he was thinking.

  ‘That horse might have killed you, boyo. It was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.’

  Jeff found them there. ‘Artie told me what happened. I’ll let it go this time, kid. If you men want to kill each other be my guest, I don’t give a shit. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again in front of my daughter you’re out of here. Understand?’ He left abruptly.

  The fight subdued Alex. He had a gentle nature and had never knowingly hurt anyone or anything before. The violence which erupted so quickly left him deeply ashamed. Jeff’s words burned in his head. He wanted to apologise to Kel but Pat stopped him. ‘He’s trouble I tell you, boyo. Just keep your distance.’

  Bob, Willie, and then Artie, all said the same. Alex made up his mind never to lose control again.

  Another week loomed. He worked Monday and Tuesday, had Wednesday and Thursday off and was rostered for Friday, Saturday and the following Monday. By Tuesday afternoon Alex doubted he would ever move again. Kel, his face a shameful reminder of the fight with a broken nose and a scar forming near one eye which looked as though he would carry it for the rest of his life, kept out of his way. Bob joined Alex and Pat as part of their team. The three of them worked steadily together. On Wednesday they went into Ghanzi where he was able to post his letter to his family. On Thursday he had another attempt to ride Nightmare who bucked him off twice before standing quietly.

  ‘Open the gate,’ he called to Pat.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m going to walk her around the yard.’

  Nightmare rippled.

  But she didn’t buck. She walked nervously around the bunkhouse, the main house, back to the yards a
nd through the gate, shying at the slightest thing. ‘That’ll do for today.’ He jumped off. Nightmare swerved towards him and lashed out with her hind leg. He danced out of her way laughing. She tried to bite him when he removed the bridle. He covered her nose with his hand then gently stroked it. She shivered. She snorted. She bobbed her head. He blew softly at her flared nostrils. She stood stock still, breathing in his breath.

  ‘She’s loving it,’ Pat said, safely behind the fence.

  He turned his head to speak. ‘All horses love it. My Pa reckons it’s the way they kiss.’

  ‘I think you might just do it, boyo.’

  But Nightmare was not that easy. With his breath removed, she reverted to nasty. Her teeth narrowly missed removing a portion of his upper arm.

  ‘I think she likes me.’

  Pat shook his head. The boy was obviously crazy.

  On Sunday he decided to ride Nightmare out onto the ranch. After a couple of attempts to unseat him, she settled down and allowed him to lead her out of the gate. He took her slowly, gently, holding her back against a trot. Her shoe clicked on a stone and she jumped violently sideways. He realised she was not so much wild, as nervous. He spoke to her constantly, patting her as far as he could without leaning forward. He knew her now. To lean forward in the saddle promised a short flight and a hard landing.

  She was obviously keen to run. Once they were away from the houses, with the open range spreading as far ahead as he could see, he gave her her head. Nightmare sprang forward immediately, her powerful legs pumping under him as she strained to go faster. He moved with her, his body attuned to her every move. He allowed her to run herself out. By the time she had, he was on a part of the ranch he had never seen. The bunkhouse and homestead were well out of sight. This did not bother him. Artie had explained that all the boreholes were numbered and sited around two miles from each other. By following the boreholes it was easy to find your way back, providing the numbers decreased as you went.

  Having run out her nervous energy, Nightmare was content to walk which gave him a chance to look around. The land stretched away on all sides, curving on the horizon, broken only by an occasional group of trees, the roots of which had managed to tap into underground water. They rested next to borehole number eight. He was around sixteen miles from the bunkhouse. He dismounted and removed the saddle, tethering Nightmare to a tree on a long rope so she could drink from the trough. He did not yet trust her not to run. The silence out here was total. It reminded him of home. In the heat of the mid-afternoon, not a bird called in the wide blue sky, not a beast lowed to another, nothing stirred.

  Then a horse whinnied. Looking around he saw nothing, but Nightmare was staring towards a clump of trees almost half a mile away. The horse called again and Nightmare replied. Curious, he saddled her again. She appeared anxious to get going and broke into an easy canter, her ears pricked forward. He could see nothing until they had almost reached the thorny acacias, then a horse stepped out of the shade, watching their approach. It was saddled and the reins were trailing on the ground. Then he saw Madison. She lay in a crumpled heap, blood trickling from her head, staining the white collar of her shirt.

  He jumped down and went to her. She looked deathly white but a pulse fluttered in her neck. Alex had no idea what to do. He could not leave her out here while he rode back, but he was reluctant to move her. She needed help. Praying he was doing the right thing he took a deep breath, then grasped a leg and moved it gingerly so it bent at the knee. No obvious breaks. He did the same with the other leg. Even as he tested her limbs he admired her. He couldn’t help it. She had the classic good looks of a movie star.

  She must be concussed. He had to get her home. He walked around her, reluctant to move her. Come on, Theron, she needs help. He bent and picked her up. She was surprisingly light. Getting her into the saddle was difficult, she was floppy and kept sliding sideways. Finally he propped her forwards, her head resting on the horse’s neck. He swung up behind her and took the reins around her body, pulling her back so she rested against him. No, that was awkward. He pushed one of her legs over so she was sideways to him and leaning into him. That was better. Grabbing Nightmare’s reins he looped them around one arm. The horse was rather close. He hoped she would not bite.

  The ride back took two hours. Her horse struggled in the heat with the extra weight. Madison remained unconscious for most of the time, waking briefly to mumble something unintelligible once or twice. She sounded delirious. Someone must have seen them coming. He was still over a mile out when a Land Rover roared up to meet him. Jeff was out of the cab before it stopped. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jeff. I found her lying out there.’

  Between them they got her into the back seat. She moaned slightly. ‘Bring the horse back.’ Jeff drove away quickly but, he had only gone a few yards when he slowed down. The movement of the Land Rover must have caused her to moan again.

  He led Nightmare back, riding Madison’s horse.

  That night he was invited to dinner at the Carters’ house. He had never met Mrs Carter, not even caught a glimpse of her. When he did, he could see where Madison got her looks. She was what his mother would have called an English rose. She greeted him warmly. ‘Please come in, we owe you so much, I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘A bit disoriented but she’s fine. I’ve been onto the doctor on the radio. He said she needs rest for a few days.’

  ‘Did she say what happened?’

  ‘A snake. The horse shied and she must have fallen and hit her head on a rock. She’s got a nasty gash. Thank heavens it’s under the hair line.’

  Alex agreed privately. Nothing should be allowed to mar that perfect face. ‘Should she have stitches?’ Alex didn’t know much about such things but if the gash was big she should probably be stitched, he knew that much.

  ‘Done.’ Jeff came into the room. ‘Stitched her myself.’ He held out his hand. ‘Thanks, kid. We wouldn’t have missed her until nearly dark. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come along. We owe you a debt of gratitude.’

  ‘Well. . .’ he felt ill at ease in Jeff’s house. The bunkhouse was homely and comfortable. Jeff’s home was formal and English. ‘I’m glad she’s all right then.’

  ‘C’mon kid. She wants to thank you herself.’

  He was led up wide and curving stairs, along a long and carpeted hall. Ancestors on walls watched him disapprovingly. He hoped the soles of his shoes were clean. The carpet was cream-coloured. He looked surreptitiously back: no dirty marks. Her bedroom was as large as their lounge back in Shakawe. She lay in a four-poster bed, propped up on pillows. Her room was cream and pink with patches of rose. Feminine smells surrounded him. He felt big and intrusive in this softly lit room.

  ‘Hello.’ What else could he say? ‘Glad you’re okay.’

  She looked up at him and he was startled to see her dislike of him in her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I believe you found me.’

  ‘Yes.’ He felt grubby and smelly, although he had just showered.

  ‘I’m very grateful to you.’ Her eyes ripped him apart. To her, he was obviously the big lout she saw fighting the other day.

  He could swear he could smell his socks. He felt a prickle of nervous perspiration under his arms. ‘It was nothing.’ Please, Jeff, can we go?

  But Jeff sat beside her bed leaving him standing in exposed isolation, like the sole occupant of a stage.

  ‘Knew this kid would be good when I saw him in Francistown. You’re okay, kid. You can stay on permanent if you like.’

  ‘Thanks.’ All he wanted to do was get away from this room before sweat stained his shirt and his socks tainted the perfumed air.

  She moved in the bed and her shawl slipped and he glimpsed white milky skin where her breasts began. He tried not to look but he couldn’t help himself. She saw him looking. Dislike turned to frosty loathing. ‘I’m tired, Daddy.’

  ‘Okay, Mad
die. C’mon, kid, let’s have dinner.’

  What a relief! To be out of the room. She hated him. He didn’t blame her. He was ugly and clumsy and smelly.

  Mrs Carter was a charming and gracious hostess and went out of her way to put him at ease. She asked about his family and seemed genuinely interested in his replies. Alex felt gauche. She thanked him profusely for finding Madison. He felt patronised. She insisted he have a second helping of the main course. He felt like an ill-bred glutton.

  Jeff was his normal self. Alex knew, with no doubt in his mind, that Jeff hated having him in the house. After dinner Jeff insisted he stay for coffee. Alex knew, with no doubt in his mind, Jeff could not wait for him to leave. When he said goodbye the Carters stood together on the verandah, smiling and thanking him. He knew, with no doubt in his mind, they would throw themselves into chairs and say, ‘Thank God that’s over.’

  He gratefully returned to the familiar bunkhouse with all the other big, smelly men. He felt comfortable there.

  Kel sneered at him. ‘Getting into Daddy’s good books won’t get you into her pants.’

  Anger rose swiftly but he stamped on it. Kel was told to shut up by several others.

  Outside, the rumble of thunder. ‘Rains are coming. Be driving the cattle in a couple of weeks.’ Artie peered through the window. ‘Time we got some decent rain.’

  A couple of weeks! Would they ever finish the bloody branding?

  Christmas came and went. The only concession to the festive season was an extra day off. His mother sent him a Bible and a shirt. The note accompanying the present said:

  We do miss you, Alexander, Pa could do with your help. I pray every day for your safe return and trust the Good Lord that you see fit to come home soon. The farm is doing well thanks to Pa’s hard work but he is not as young as he once was and gets very tired. I worry for his health. The house isn’t the same at Christmas without you—families should be together to celebrate the birth of Christ. Are you saying your prayers? God bless and keep you.