Paraku

by Jesse Blackadder

  Rachel was so shocked she hardly heard him. She’d never thought about whether the Sheik wanted mares or stallions, or if the stallions would need gelding. She remembered the beautiful cream stallion with the black mane and tail. Bad enough if he was caught, but what if he was gelded? Would he lose all trace of his spirit and wildness? If it turned out he wasn’t the right kind of horse and he was released again, he wouldn’t be able to lead his herd. What would happen to him?

  ‘It’ll be slow,’ Mike went on. ‘We can only catch one at a time like this, but I can’t see any other way to do it.’

  ‘Welcome to the problem,’ Eddie said. ‘No easy way to catch ’em, nowhere to keep ’em, and no way to get ’em out of here.’

  ‘I know taking a dozen horses won’t make any difference, but perhaps the Sheik will come back for more,’ Mike said. ‘It might end up reducing the numbers.’

  Rachel couldn’t help blurting out a question. ‘Why don’t you like the horses being here?’

  Mike glared at her. ‘Enough, Rachel.’

  But Eddie shrugged. ‘It’s not that we don’t like ’em; there’s too many. They’re grazing out the land around the lake and wrecking it. We’ve got places where we keep the horses out, and you should see the difference. They’re full of bush tucker.’

  He looked over at Mike. ‘How ’bout a walk? I’ll show you.’

  A breeze had sprung up since the early morning and Rachel was glad of it as they headed down to the lake. Her father and Eddie went first, and she followed. Dan kept behind her. She would have liked to talk to him, but she was too shy and he ignored her.

  Unlike at dawn, when every living creature seemed to be out and about, it had fallen quiet as the middle of the day approached. The flies were the most active things around, buzzing at their ears and eyes. A flock of raucous galahs took off from where they’d been feeding in the grass and shrieked as the humans came through the trees and out onto the open plain, dotted by the dead tree trunks that surrounded the lake.

  Eddie stopped and waited till Rachel caught up, then pointed down at the bitten-off stalks and bare earth. ‘Those fellas eat the grass and break up the ground.’

  The water itself was a long way off, and as they trudged towards it, the ground grew softer and softer under their feet. ‘In the wet season, the lake comes up to the camp,’ Eddie said. ‘Rest of the time it shrinks way down. Long way for the horses to get water.’

  The grass and the reddish, knobbly bushes that grew near the water started to disappear and they were soon walking on soft, grey mud. The heat rose up from the ground as well as beating down on them from above. They were still quite a long distance from the water’s edge, but Rachel felt her boots stick and nearly come off. She was sinking with each step.

  ‘This is where the horses walk,’ Eddie said. ‘They get stuck. If we find ’em, we drag ’em out, but some die and foul the water.’

  They came to a halt, sinking into the mud, and he waved for them to turn around. ‘There’s thousands of brumbies. Too many.’

  ‘What about fencing off the lake?’ Mike asked.

  ‘Like I said, they break the fences. The stallions charge and all the rest follow. Sometimes they get stuck in the barbed wire. Horrible death if no one sees ’em.’

  ‘They don’t belong here,’ Dan added.

  Rachel was silent, her thoughts teeming. The horses looked so beautiful and so much a part of the landscape. She didn’t know what to think. She trailed behind her father and Eddie as they headed back to the campsite, with Dan bringing up the rear.

  ‘When you wanna start?’ Eddie said, once they got back to the car.

  ‘Tomorrow? Dawn?’ Mike asked.

  Eddie nodded. ‘We’ll be here. Dan’s bringing his camera, OK? For his TAFE project.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Mike said. ‘What are you studying?’

  ‘Screen and Media, up at Batchelor College,’ Dan said. ‘Making a video in my holidays.’

  ‘Gotta finish his assignment next week.’ Eddie opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Told ’im to do it out here, before he goes back.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Mike said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Eddie and Dan both gave them a brief wave.

  Rachel dropped her eyes again, trying to remember not to stare. ‘Bye.’

  She watched them drive off in the big four-wheel drive that they called a troopy. Everyone out here had cars like that — Mike had told her that once the monsoon rain started, all the red dirt turned into mud, and even four-wheel drives got stuck.

  ‘Lunch?’ Mike said, jerking her out of her thoughts.

  ‘Um, sure,’ she replied. Lunch was her job; dinner was his. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘One of your great roll-up sandwiches. I’ll put the billy on.’

  Rachel felt too upset about the horses to respond. She headed over to where they’d set up their kitchen next to the car, in easy reach of the camping fridge inside. She rummaged around and found the flatbread, pulled out hommos, tinned tuna, and some lettuce and tomatoes, and rolled up a couple of sandwiches. She put them on two plates and walked over to her father’s camping chair, where he was sitting. She looked down at him sipping his tea and he grinned back up at her as though nothing was wrong.

  Rachel felt a surge of anger at him and thumped the plate down on the ground so hard that the sandwich bounced and almost hit the dust.

  ‘Hey! What’s going on?’

  Rachel flung herself down in her chair and took a bite so she didn’t have to answer him.

  Her father brushed sand off his lunch and inspected it. ‘Your mother said you were too young for this. Maybe she was right.’

  ‘Why can’t people just leave them alone and let them be wild?’ Rachel asked, her mouth full.

  Mike sighed. ‘Like Eddie said, they don’t belong here. This lake is sacred to Eddie’s people, and the horses are destroying it. They’re like rabbits or foxes, back over our way. They do a lot of damage and the native animals can’t survive.’

  ‘But it’s not the horses’ fault!’ Rachel argued. ‘It’s not fair.’

  ‘As your mother would say, life’s not fair. I agree with you, Rach, it’s complicated. At least we’re doing something small to help the situation. If we catch a dozen horses here, they’ll be safe. They won’t die of thirst or get stuck in the mud or caught in a fence or culled. They’ll live long, useful lives. We’re doing them a favour.’

  Rachel slumped down in her chair, her arms crossed. She wasn’t hungry for the rest of her sandwich. ‘It’s cruel to geld the stallions and let them go again. What would happen to the herd of that stallion we saw this morning?’

  ‘Another stallion would take it over.’

  ‘But what about the gelding?’

  Mike shrugged. ‘He won’t know that he’s gelded, Rachel. He’ll just find other things more important than mares: that’s all. He might even run with his old herd. It’s just that another stallion will be the boss.’

  ‘I still think it’s cruel.’ Rachel waved the flies away from the last of her sandwich, but couldn’t face eating it.

  ‘Rachel, you have to be grown up about this. I need you on side.’ Mike got up and took his plate over to the kitchen. He rinsed it in the washing-up bowl, and dried it.

  Rachel threw the remains of her lunch into the campfire. ‘I’m going for a walk.’ Without waiting for her father to answer, she headed off down the track in the direction of the lake.

  ‘Don’t go too far!’ she heard him call behind her. Before she came out of the trees, she turned onto another track, one that skirted the whole edge of the lake through the scattered coolibahs and wattles, which offered a bit of shelter from the heat.

  As she walked, Rachel kicked at the ground and then sneezed as a cloud of white dust flew up in her face. She shaded her eyes and looked around. As far as she could see, the land was wide and flat. The lake shimmered in the distance, a strip of vivid blue that stood out against the grey mud and sand
surrounding it. She felt a very, very long way from home, and missed Rapscallion with a terrible pang. For a moment she wished she’d never come. Back home, she wouldn’t be trying to figure out the answer to the problem of the brumbies, which felt so big and grown up and complicated.

  She saw a flicker of movement ahead. It was another herd, not any of the ones she’d seen earlier in the morning, grazing up on the grass flats away from the lake. She decided to take a closer look.

  There were several foals in the group, and Rachel slowed down her walk and kept close to the trees, wondering how the brumbies behaved when humans weren’t around. She dodged behind some trees and bushes and slowly crept closer, making sure they couldn’t see her. There was plenty of camouflage around and she crouched behind a tree in the long grass, checking for snakes before she settled in a spot with a clear view.

  The stallion was a small but strong chestnut with white feet. He grazed watchfully, his ears always flicking back and forth. Every few minutes he lifted his head and looked around, flaring his nostrils, before returning to his food. He was heavily scarred and older looking. He wouldn’t be a contender for being caught.

  A neigh rang out from the trees and Rachel saw a dark shape behind the white trunks. Two horses trotted into the clearing and the first one threw his head up and neighed again. He was such a dark bay that he was almost black, and his coat looked nearly as silky as Aragorn’s, broken only by a white star on his forehead. That wasn’t all he had in common with Aragorn. He was tall with a long, thoroughbred shape like Aragorn’s, though he looked younger. Rachel thought he must be descended from Basin Street, the thoroughbred that Libby had shown them. At his side, a chestnut mare with a long white blaze on her face and a heavy, round belly kept close to him, her nose to his flank, as if she feared losing him.

  The chestnut stallion came trotting out to meet them and the three horses stood still, noses extended, sniffing. Then the older stallion squealed and kicked out at the dark bay. The younger horse reared, his ears pinned back, and struck out with his front hooves.

  Rachel couldn’t tear her eyes from them. The dark bay, with the afternoon sun glinting on his coat, was full of life and power as he danced; his muscles moved under his hide as he tried to make the old chestnut stallion fight.

  The older horse quickly wearied of such play. He struck out with his teeth, nipping the dark bay on the neck, then turned and trotted away, back to his own mares. Despite his show of force, he didn’t seem too bothered by the younger stallion.

  Rachel leaned forwards, trying to get a closer look at the pair, and lost her balance. She scrabbled to stay on her haunches and both horses swung around in her direction. She looked up. The dark bay was staring right at her, his eyes piercing even from a distance. He pawed the ground and trotted closer to investigate, followed by the mare.

  They halted about thirty metres off and Rachel slowly got to her feet. She raised her head and blew through her nostrils loudly.

  The bay snorted back in her direction and swivelled his ears. He wasn’t afraid of her, she saw, and she stepped out from behind the tree so she was in full view.

  For a few moments they looked at each other. It wasn’t like looking at any other horse she’d known. He wanted nothing from her — not food, not shelter, not company — and he just examined her.

  He might have looked like Basin Street, but while that horse had stood calmly, looking rather bored in the old photo, this brumby was so full of life and spirit that the air seemed to vibrate around him.

  Rachel hated to think that he might be caught. He was part of the landscape — he looked completely at home in it. She felt confused about the whole situation. How could the wild horses be out of place? And if they were, they didn’t know it. As far as they were concerned, this was their home.

  Nothing changed that Rachel could see, but suddenly the two horses started and the dark bay reared. He gave a final, challenging neigh in her direction, then they swung around and broke into a gallop.

  He was fast! Rachel stood still, watching the two horses thunder across the plain in the direction of the lake, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake, as if she had terrified them.

  As if they somehow realised exactly why she was there.

  Chapter 7

  In the hours before dawn the dark horse trots back and forth, up and down the same stretch of ground until the grass is trampled and his coat covered in dust. The mare snorts in annoyance and moves away from him to doze under a tree, but he cannot settle.

  He halts, scents the air, sends out a ringing challenge into the night.

  No answer.

  He’s young, and always there is the danger another stallion, older and stronger, will beat him down and leave him for the Sharp-Tooths. He knows the danger; has known it since his mother turned her rump and refused to let him drink any more when he was a yearling. Every male horse knows it. The young males run together for safety until they’re ready to steal mares of their own and start a herd. But first they learn to fight each other.

  The Two-Leg he saw yesterday means some new danger that he can’t understand. It makes his coat twitch and twitch even after the cold night has driven the flies away.

  She’s not like any other Two-Leg he’s seen. Her hair is the colour of fire and she speaks to him, blowing through her nostrils in greeting. He’s confused. She’s small and she carries nothing. She’s on foot and can’t keep up. There’s no reason for him to be afraid.

  And still he is. He sniffs again, but he’s far enough away from where they sleep that he can’t smell them.

  The mare nickers at him. He crosses to her side and she scratches his neck with her teeth. He shifts around until they are head to tail and scratches her too, calming down with the rasp of her teeth on his hide.

  Her belly twitches against his side and he swings his nose around to sniff her there. Her side bulges out hard and below the skin he senses movement. He butts her and she strikes out with a hind hoof, catching him hard, making him jump back.

  He nickers at her, contrite, and she snorts to let him know he can come close again. He eases to her side, presses against her warmth and drops his head. After a few minutes, his eyelids droop.

  But his skin keeps twitching, all through the night, and he dreams of that white, windy desert a long way away.

  Rachel woke to a gentle shaking. Her father’s hand was on her shoulder. It was still dark, but when she opened her eyes and looked around she could see a pale gleam on the horizon. The campfire was crackling and the first birdcalls were chiming through the air.

  ‘Hot chocolate’s ready,’ Mike said. ‘Rise and shine.’

  Rachel rubbed her eyes. In the glow of his head torch she could see her father grinning with excitement, and she remembered. This was the first morning of their horse hunt.

  She felt torn as she jumped up out of her swag, found her clothes and quickly pulled them on. In spite of her misgivings, the prospect of capturing a horse was kind of exciting. She decided that today she’d prove to her father that she was grown up enough to be there and that he wouldn’t regret bringing her along.

  The smell of frying eggs drifted across from the fire — she was hungry. By the time she’d pulled her camp chair over to the fire and sat down, her father was serving up a couple of fried eggs on toast and his coffee pot was starting to bubble. She flicked on her own head torch so she could see what she was eating.

  ‘Today I want you up the tree with me,’ Mike said between mouthfuls. ‘You can look after the darts and be ready to get me anything I need.’

  Rachel swallowed a gulp of hot chocolate. Sitting up a tree all day sounded dull. If she was going to join in the hunt, she wanted to be down on the ground with Eddie and the rangers to drive the horses. But she bit her lip and said nothing.

  Mike reached over and ruffled her hair. ‘Once I’ve darted a horse, we’ll all be helping. We’ll have to look it over, check its age, and if it’s a good choice, then everyone will have to help slide i
t onto the trailer while it’s still asleep. Don’t worry, girly, it won’t be too boring.’

  Rachel heard the faint growl of an engine in the distance and saw the prickle of headlights coming from the direction of the community. She quickly finished up her eggs and swallowed down the last of the hot chocolate, burning her throat. She had time to do the fastest clean of her teeth in the history of the world, and was standing ready when the troopy pulled into the campsite, towing an oversized trailer stuffed with an old foam mattress.

  It was nearly light and she could easily make out the six rangers who got out of the car, all wearing their uniform of blue fleece vests with red logos on the chests. Eddie introduced her and Mike to another adult, Tony, and three young men — Steve, Aaron and Bill, who stood around with Dan, smiling but not speaking. Dan had his video camera hanging from his wrist.

  ‘Catch that big fella horse today!’ Tony said. He gave her a wide smile and a wink.

  Rachel smiled back. ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘Nah, we’re right,’ Eddie said. ‘Let’s get going.’

  Rachel and Mike grabbed their daypacks and Mike slung his dart rifle over his shoulder. Eddie led the way and they walked single file towards the lake as the sky turned pink and pale purple and the birds were working up to full voice.

  Rachel could see several herds at the lake’s edge. One was the mob of the creamy-coloured stallion and another was the small bachelor herd of greys. When they were still a good distance off, Eddie put up his hand and they all stopped. Mike and Rachel went on ahead and crouched behind a dead tree. Mike scanned the horses through his binoculars, while Rachel tried to pick them out from a distance.

  When her legs were starting to ache from crouching, her father handed her the binoculars. She put them to her eyes and the distant horses suddenly jumped into focus. She looked anxiously for the creamy stallion.

  ‘That mob of greys is a good bet,’ Mike said. ‘They’re in good condition, and a bachelor group won’t be so easily spooked. At least two of them look like the right kind of horse.’