Paraku

by Jesse Blackadder

  Cassie pressed her lips together. ‘Is Aragorn all right?’

  ‘A bit banged up and frightened, but he’ll be fine, thanks to your sister.’

  Rachel wondered if for once Cassie would think to say thank you, but she hardly seemed to notice her.

  ‘He needs to be jumped again, straight away,’ Cassie went on. ‘Or he’ll end up spooked by those jumps and never get over it. I need to ride him again tomorrow.’

  Mike looked at the drip stand by the bed and the tube running into Cassie’s arm. ‘Are you sure there’s enough tranquilliser in there?’

  ‘Oh, very funny, Dad.’ Cassie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t stay here for six weeks. Please!’

  ‘There’s no choice,’ Mike said. ‘It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, Cass, this is it.’

  ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘Life’s not fair,’ Helen said, and Rachel mouthed the words along with her as she usually did.

  ‘You want to be a showjumper, Cassie,’ Mike said. ‘Well, injuries are part of it. You’re not riding in the championships and that’s all there is to it. You’ve had a lesson about stopping when you’re told to, and I hope you remember it. You can catch up on your schoolwork, and watch as many instructional videos as you want. Put the time to good use. Aragorn can go out for a spell and he’ll be fresh and ready to go when you’re up again.’

  ‘No!’ Cassie wailed. ‘That’ll set him back months. I’ll miss the state championships too!’

  There was a rap at the door and a doctor came in. ‘What’s going on in here?’

  ‘I want to go home,’ Cassie snapped. ‘I’m not staying in traction. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘That’s not possible,’ the doctor said. ‘Family, would you mind leaving Cassie for a while? She’s getting far too agitated. Cassie, I want you to have a rest.’

  As they left the room, Rachel saw the doctor getting out a syringe.

  ‘Let’s go home for a while,’ Helen said wearily. ‘I’m still in wet clothes and we’ve got a lot to work out.’

  By the evening of what felt like a very long day, it was all organised. Helen’s sister, Dot, who lived in Melbourne, said she would take time off work and come up to Armidale to help with the horses for a few weeks. Aragorn could stay in light work and Helen could still keep training the five horses she had in the stables, while Cassie stayed in hospital.

  ‘And you’ll go to the Kimberley,’ Helen said to Mike as they finished another cup of tea around the kitchen table. ‘I know you want to work for the Sheik, and he’ll never find anyone else at such short notice. If you don’t go, it will be put off for a year.’

  ‘But you’ll have a lot to manage, looking after Rach and visiting Cassie,’ Mike said. ‘It’s too much for you.’

  Helen grinned. ‘The hardest part of visiting Cassie will be making sure she doesn’t unscrew the weight equipment and escape. The rest of the time she’ll be watching every showjumping video ever made. She won’t even notice if I’m there. You know what she’s like.’

  Mike rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘You’re right, I guess. How did she get to be so single-minded? It wasn’t from me, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Oh, you can be pretty single-minded, Mr Brumbies-of-the-Kimberley,’ Helen said. She gave him a hug.

  Now the shock was passing, Rachel was exhausted. Her eyelids drooped and she thought she might doze off right there at the kitchen table.

  ‘And what are we going to do with you?’ Helen said, letting go of Mike and sitting back.

  ‘I wonder,’ Mike said.

  They were talking about her, Rachel realised, and she was suddenly wide awake. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘School holidays in one week,’ Mike said. ‘It was going to be a pretty busy time, being a strapper. But now you’ve got all that time off.’

  Rachel looked from Mike to Helen. Her father had a little smile on his lips, while her mother looked serious.

  ‘Mike,’ she said warningly.

  ‘Helen,’ he answered in the same tone. ‘Today our youngest daughter caught a terrified horse in a thunderstorm, calmed him down, stopped him from hurting himself, got him back into his stable and taped up his knee, all while she was thinking her sister might have been killed. That’s one brave young woman.’

  ‘True,’ Helen said. She looked Rachel up and down as if she hadn’t seen her before and Rachel sat up straighter. She could hardly bear to guess what her father had in mind for her.

  ‘I think she deserves a reward. I could do with a smart helper in the Kimberley. Someone who can keep her head and stay calm around frightened horses. And if Rachel’s with me, that’s one less responsibility for you to worry about.’

  Rachel kept her eyes fixed on her father’s face. She didn’t dare look at her mother. ‘Really, Dad?’

  ‘It’s OK with me, if your mother agrees. She’s the one who’ll be doing everything here.’

  Helen folded her arms and glared at Mike. ‘Thanks a million, mate. How are Dot and I supposed to manage without Rachel’s help?’

  ‘The Sheik has a very generous budget for the project,’ he said. ‘I’ve got money to employ anyone I need. The Maloneys’ oldest boy will be on school holidays — he’s always looking for extra work. Cassie’s taken all the limelight around here. It’s time Rach had something special for herself, don’t you think?’

  They both looked at Rachel until she squirmed, then her mother sighed. ‘You promise to be careful and sensible, Rachel! Keep that crazy father of yours under control. And two weeks only, mind you. No missing school.’

  Rachel jumped out of her seat, all tiredness forgotten, and flung her arms around her mother. ‘I’ll work so hard when I get back,’ she promised. ‘I’ll take extra turns at mucking out, and it can be your turn for a holiday.’

  ‘There aren’t any holidays when you’ve got horses,’ Helen said.

  Rachel hardly heard her. She turned to her father and hugged him too. ‘Thanks, Dad. When do we go?’

  ‘A week,’ he said. ‘The first day of your holidays. You’ll need to have all your school holiday homework done before we get on the plane, or you’re not coming. Agreed?’

  ‘Of course,’ Rachel said. She would have promised anything.

  ‘Off to bed,’ Helen said, ‘while I have words with your father. I’ll be up to tuck you in soon.’

  ‘Can I just go to the stables?’ Rachel begged. ‘I want to say good night to Scally.’

  Her mother smiled. ‘Five minutes.’

  Rachel ran out of the kitchen, hardly hearing the door bang behind her. The dogs raised sleepy heads as she ran past, but they were cosy in their kennels and the ground was still wet, so they didn’t jump up.

  The clouds had cleared and the stars were bright overhead. Rachel skipped a few steps. Her heart was pounding like it had when she was trying to free Aragorn, but this time it was for joy. She was going adventuring with her dad! Just the two of them. And she’d get to see real wild horses at last.

  She stopped for a minute, remembering Cassie lying among the rails of the jump. It was a horrible picture. She wished her adventure wasn’t coming from an accident. Although Cassie had been driving Rachel crazy, she’d never wanted her sister hurt.

  She heard Rapscallion’s soft whinny at the sound of her footsteps, and flung open the stable door. Her pony and Aragorn both put their heads out of their stalls to see what was happening. The other horses continued dozing.

  Rachel gave Aragorn a quick pat on his silky nose. He’d calmed down during the day and was his usual self, alert but not frightened. He pushed at her hand and snorted and she wondered if he knew she’d helped him. Somehow she thought he did. Horses weren’t smart in the way that dogs were — sometimes they could be downright silly — but they seemed to feel things very deeply. She knew Aragorn felt ashamed for having thrown Cassie off, even if it was because of the thunder frightening him. She couldn’t explain how she knew, she just did.

  ‘
It’s OK, boy,’ she said, rubbing his nose again. ‘You won’t see Cassie for a while, but she’s fine.’

  He blew at her again and she gave him a final pat, before letting herself into Rapscallion’s stall. He was such a pony. Ponies had more common sense than horses, and weren’t so sensitive. He’d thrown her off plenty of times over the years and he’d just come and nudge her to get back on. If he did feel bad about it, it didn’t last long.

  ‘I’m going to see the wild horses, Scally,’ she whispered, giving him a scratch.

  She wondered what might happen out in the desert. Today she’d grown up all of a sudden. Whatever happened, her dad was right: she wouldn’t be riding Rapscallion much longer. It made her eyes prick with tears. He’d been her pony since she was five. She’d had all her riding adventures on his back. She couldn’t imagine a horse being such a good friend to her, or being so smart.

  ‘Good night, boy,’ she said to him. She threw her arms around his neck, then let go and started towards the stall half-door.

  Rapscallion seemed to know something was up. He followed her and pushed his nose so hard into the centre of her back that she almost fell over.

  She turned and hugged him again. ‘I won’t be gone long, boy. I promise.’ She leaned down and kissed the soft skin of his nose, blew through her nostrils at him and then went out of the stall. She looked around before she turned off the lights. Who would have thought life could change so much in a single day?

  In the dawn light, four dingoes scamper through the grass by the edge of the lake, two golden, one white, one black with light markings on his ears and feet. They have found something in the grass and they jump at it, throwing up dust as they pounce and snap.

  The dark horse watches them, curious. They’re no danger; they’re playful today. He sets out at a trot towards them, halts, sniffs.

  One of them has some soft, bloody thing lying between his paws, and he chews another mouthful of it. The dingoes have eaten well this season, and left the horses alone. But now the world is waiting for the wet, and all creatures are starting to feel the pinch of hunger as the grass dries.

  The black dingo looks up at him and crouches, tail waving. Greetings, Soil-Breaker.

  Greetings, Sharp-Tooth. The horse stamps a hoof and the dingo springs forwards, lands in the grass, crouches again, his golden eyes glinting. The horse skitters back, rears up a little, snorts. They dance together, forwards and back.

  The mare comes up behind him, heavy bellied, and snorts her own greeting at the Sharp-Tooth. The dark horse feels a flash of danger and keeps himself between them. The Sharp-Tooths might be playful now, but they’ll work together to bring down a foal if they get the chance. A stallion who’s lost badly to another in a fight, a mare who’s put a foot in a hole and fallen hard, a foal who’s wandered too far from her dam — any of these will end up between their teeth.

  The Sharp-Tooths have strange, ancient memories that the dark horse doesn’t understand. They remember, from long ago, a star falling and mud flying up, the ground shaking and the lake forming. Some of the other creatures remember it too.

  But the horses, the Soil-Breakers, don’t remember it: their ancestral memories are of deserts of drifting sands coloured yellow and cream, and winds that blow day and night. The Never-Thirsts, the camels with their humped backs and flat feet, have the same memories too, and the horses and the Never-Thirsts exchange stories of that other desert. It’s a very long way away, and none of them has ever seen it.

  They also share memories of the Two-Legs. The Never-Thirsts don’t care much for them, but the Two-Legs stir something deep in the hearts of the horses. The dark horse himself has turned and faced the Two-Legs, sniffing the air and flicking his ears and tail. He knows he should run, but he feels a flicker of memory, as if the ghost of a rider long dead sits in the curve of his back.

  The dark horse shakes his head. Those memories come, like dreams, when the Two-Legs are up to something and he doesn’t know what. He snorts again at the Sharp-Tooth, hoping for an answer. The Sharp-Tooth cocks his head to the side and the dark horse sees a picture of wood being pounded into the earth, the sound of banging, activity.

  From the mob, a stallion calls out a challenge to the Sharp-Tooths and the horses begin to move towards the water. The memory of being prey never leaves them, like the memory of being ridden, and they don’t like being exposed in the heavy mud at the lake’s edge, squelching out further and further to finally reach drinkable water. The small waterholes are better, but they dry up in the heat and then the only water is at the end of that long walk on the open flats.

  The dark horse calls to his mare and they follow the mob. They drink quickly, their ears flickering back and forth, raising their heads often to look for danger. They never have enough; the dark horse is always thirsty at the end of the dry season.

  Chapter 4

  And though he often told of how the silver stallion had hurtled over the cliff to his death, there grew up around the campfires stories of a great silver stallion seen galloping over wind-packed snow way up on the Ramshead Range; of a ghost horse that drank at the Crackenback River; of a horse that all men thought was dead appearing in a blizzard at Dead Horse hut and vanishing again; of the wild stallion cry that could only be Thowra’s. But no man knew where the son of Bel Bel roamed.

  Rachel turned the last page of the book with a sigh. Mike had bought her a new copy of The Silver Brumby to read on the plane. She’d lost count of how many times she’d read her old copy over the years, but it had fallen to pieces. Other girls worshipped sports heroes or rock stars, but Thowra was Rachel’s hero. The wild brumby who roamed the inaccessible forests of the Snowy Mountains, outsmarting the men who tried to catch him and outwitting the other stallions who wanted to kill him and steal his mares, might have only been a legend. But what a legend!

  She turned her head to the window and craned her neck to look down. They’d been flying high over desert country for the past two hours and there was no sign of it ending. The earth was deep red beneath them, with strange stripes and fissures that seemed to run for kilometres. The dark smudges and dots might be the grasses and small trees that grew out in the desert, she thought, though it was impossible to tell.

  Her father slept in the seat next to her. The week leading up to the trip had been hectic with all the plans and arrangements and permissions needed for them to go into the Indigenous Protected Area, trap the horses and transport them back to Armidale, and he’d worked very late the night before. He was exhausted by the time they boarded the plane. Rachel was pretty tired too. Although she didn’t have to get up at 4.45am any more for Cassie’s training sessions, she still needed to be out helping in the stables before six, and taking a turn again in the evening. She had visited Cassie in hospital every day after school. She’d had to get through all her normal homework plus her holiday homework too, so she’d had several late nights. But she was far too excited to sleep now, and she couldn’t believe that her father was able to doze off.

  Cassie had finally accepted that she wouldn’t be riding in the championships or going home from hospital early. But she didn’t like it. She’d taken to snapping at her parents and ignoring Rachel completely, only saying, ‘Well, I suppose you’re happy now!’ when she heard about the Kimberley trip.

  In fact, Rachel was quite glad to be leaving her sister behind. Cassie had always been single-minded, but now she was so rude and selfish. She treated her family as if they only existed to help her. Their parents seemed to be endlessly patient, but Rachel was sick of it. She was looking forward to having her father all to herself for a fortnight.

  She looked down at the book in her lap. On the front cover, the silver brumby reared up on his hind legs, his mane tossing in the wind. He was the fastest and bravest of the brumbies on the Ramshead Range, able to disappear among the snow gums and leap down impossible crags where no other horse could go.

  She wondered if the horses of the desert would be anything like Thowra. She
doubted it. It would be hot and dry out there, without anything much to eat. She could barely imagine how they stayed alive. They’d be skinny and tired and thirsty and covered with dust, not like the gleaming silver horses of the high country.

  Rachel wriggled in her seat. She felt uneasy after finishing the book. Always there were men hunting Thowra, and always he managed to get away from them. He didn’t want to be caught. He wanted to be wild and free, living in the mountains with his herd.

  Would the desert brumbies feel the same way? Her dad had told her that though they didn’t know it yet, their lives would be much easier in captivity. He’d shown her photos of the Sheik’s stables in Dubai where the horses would live while they trained to become endurance racers. ‘It’s probably the best facility in the world,’ he said. ‘They’ll be looked after so well they’ll never miss being in the wild.’

  But Rachel couldn’t imagine that Thowra would prefer being in a training stable to living wild.

  The plane started to tilt and Rachel saw the vivid blue stripe of the ocean on the horizon. The speaker crackled and the pilot asked everyone to get ready for landing. Mike stirred and straightened his chair, rubbing his eyes as he tried to rouse himself. He gave her a sleepy grin and tightened his seatbelt.

  The plane swooped over the town of Broome and headed out to sea before turning around. The water was an incredible turquoise colour and the sand was a brilliant white, turning to red further back from the shoreline. Rachel pressed her face to the window to see as much as she could before the plane landed and bumped to a halt on the tarmac.

  It was so hot! It was still winter, but as Rachel stepped out of the plane and climbed down the stairs, she started to sweat at once. She blinked in the brilliant light. Armidale, where they lived, was high on the tablelands, and there’d been frost on the ground when they left home that morning. But here, even in shorts and a T-shirt, she was boiling.