The Warrior Sheep Down Under

by Christopher Russell

  18

  Eyes in the Mud

  Alice’s pampering was going well. She had tried the warm baths and the hot baths. Her hair had been shampooed and her body massaged. Now she was preparing to try the mud bath: guaranteed to make you look ten years younger.

  She took off her fluffy white bathrobe and stood on the edge of what looked like an open-air swimming pool. Only it wasn’t full of water. It was full of soft, gray mud, which bubbled gently out of the ground, filling the air with its rotten-egg scent.

  “You’re quite certain the gray will wash off?” Alice said to the bath attendant standing beside her.

  “No worries,” said the girl, taking Alice’s fluffy white bathrobe. “From your skin and your swimsuit.”

  Alice stepped in and sank down into the warm gloop, feeling it ooze over her body and up to her neck. The bath attendant popped a soft cushion behind her head and gently laid a velvet mask over her face.

  “Lie back and enjoy,” the girl said. “I’ll be back in a while with some chamomile tea.”

  Alice relaxed. She closed her eyes. “Me Time” was so wonderful. Thursday and Brisbane seemed a long way away. And so did interfering sheep…

  On the other side of the fence that surrounded the mud pool, Deidre and Shelly were sitting on the grass, enjoying an ice cream.

  “What did you do before?” asked Shelly casually.

  “Before what?”

  “Joining up with Alice.”

  “Oh, this and that,” said Deidre. “Nothing special.”

  “And you’re really, really just a secretary?”

  Deidre gave Shelly a look. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Of course I am.”

  She handed her cone to Shelly, ending the conversation. “D’you fancy the rest of this? I think I’ll shut my eyes for a few minutes.”

  “Then you’re a nosy one,” said Shelly, licking the ice cream.

  But Deidre didn’t answer.

  • • •

  It had taken Jaycey quite a while to calm down. And to convince her fellow warriors that from the top of the geyser she really had seen their fairy godtingy.

  “She was covered in a fluffy white thing,” she gasped. “But it was definitely her. And she was standing by a great muddy hole in the ground. And…”

  Oxo and Links looked at each other as if she’d gone mad, but Sal set off at a quick trot before Jaycey had even finished.

  “She is waiting to guide us again,” she called over her shoulder. “Hurry!”

  “That’ll be guiding us through some more mud and mire, I s’pose,” murmured Oxo, pushing past Sal to his rightful place in the lead.

  They ran as fast as they could, then skidded to a halt by a large painted sign.

  “Another geyser?” asked Oxo.

  Wills spelled out the long word “Re-ju-ven-ating…Mud Bath…” He looked at Jaycey. “Is this where…?”

  “I can see her!” called Sal excitedly. She was peering through a knothole in the slatted wooden fence. “There! In the mud.”

  “Ohmygrass! Is she drowning?” asked Jaycey anxiously.

  “Out of the way, guys. Ram going through.” Oxo lowered his great head and butted the thin fence. The slats were old and his head went straight through with barely a sound. His body followed and he had to dig his hooves in hard to stop himself skidding straight into the mud pool.

  The others nipped through the gap and stood uncertainly on the edge. The fairy godtingy was lying up to her neck in mud at the far end. Very still.

  “Ohmygrass…Is she dead as well as drowning?” whispered Jaycey.

  “Nah…she’s just chilling, man…” said Links. He stepped quietly into the pool and sank chest deep in gray mud. “Mmm…Nice…”

  The others followed.

  “What now?” whispered Wills, who had to stand on tip-hooves to keep his head above the mud.

  “We must get closer, of course,” said Sal. “She is our guide, remember.”

  The mud made soft slurping, glugging, plopping noises as the warriors waded slowly through it. They were only a sheep’s length away from the fairy godtingy when a droplet of mud got up Sal’s nose and made her sneeze. “Ahhhtchoo!”

  Alice woke with a fright and sat bolt upright. The mask fell from her face and she found herself staring straight into the yellow eyes of five sheep. Those sheep!

  She screamed, loud and long. Deidre and Shelly, on the other side of the fence, heard and sprang to their feet.

  Shelly came running through the broken fence. “Now what?” she asked.

  Attendants were also rushing toward the screaming mud-bather, who had now scrambled from the pool.

  “Guys,” said Wills, “I think we should, uh, keep a low profile.”

  The sheep glanced at each other, then sank silently below the surface.

  Alice was ranting. “I knew it all along! It’s a plot! Get them out of here! Get them out!”

  Shelly was by her side now. “Get who out?”

  “Those sheep, of course!” Alice was hysterical.

  Shelly and Deidre looked at each other and down at the pool. They could see only bubbles where the sheep had been.

  “But, Miss Barton…” said Deidre soothingly. “There are no sheep. There’s nothing here.”

  The warriors managed to hold their breath under the mud until the humans had led a jabbering Alice away to the showers. Then, when everyone had gone, they slipped back out through the gap in the fence.

  “Why did she scream like that?” asked Oxo, as they trotted away from the scene of all the noise and fuss.

  “We frightened her, man,” said Links. “Even fairy godtingys get fright when they’re woken up too quick.”

  “We’d frighten anyone looking like this,” moaned Jaycey. “Look at my poor fleece. Look at my hooves. Look at my…”

  “I don’t suppose,” said Wills, before Jaycey could add to the list, “you saw their truck from the top of the geyser? The one they call Trevor?”

  Jaycey thought, then shrugged. “Umm…It was over that way, I think.” She nodded vaguely in several directions.

  “Maybe we should find it and wait for the godtingy there,” Wills suggested. “While she’s getting over her fright.”

  • • •

  It took a lot of chamomile tea and concerned attendants bathing her forehead to settle Alice down. And a lot of showering to wash the gray mud off. And a lot of very expensive perfume to mask the smell of bad eggs. Nobody had mentioned how much that lingered. “Me Time” had been a disaster but Alice was determined to get a grip. The stakes were too high to be frightened off by a bunch of sheep. No matter who was behind them. She strode from the changing room, ready for anything, and with not a hair out of place.

  Shelly and Deidre were waiting. Deidre looked worried.

  “Right, poppets,” said Alice, with a brisk smile. “Brisbane.”

  “D’you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Shelly.

  Alice flinched, but only inwardly. “The bad,” she said, still smiling.

  “I’m afraid the airport’s closed, Miss Barton,” said Deidre. “For a week. They’re relaying the runway.”

  “And the good news?”

  Deidre wasn’t sure if it was good news or not. “Um, Skipper Ed phoned. Destiny’s been repaired. He’s moored at Rotapangimouth. Awaiting your instructions.”

  “Where’s Rotapangimouth?” asked Alice.

  “Mouth of the Rotapangi River, strangely,” said Shelly. “About half an hour’s drive from here.”

  “And how long will it take to sail from there to Brisbane?”

  “Depends how fast your boat is. Three days?”

  Alice counted quickly on her fingers. “Excellent. We’ll still be in time. Deidre, phone Captain Ted and tell him we sail today. Then call a taxi.” She looked at Shelly. “Trevor is history—except as a luggage wagon. Meet us at the quayside.”

  Five minutes later, Alice and Deidre were being whisked away in a posh car
.

  Shelly was quite happy to have Trevor to herself for a bit. She climbed in, made to start the engine, then stopped. And sniffed.

  “What the kiwi juice is that?” she said.

  She turned and saw five mud-covered sheep blinking at her from the rear seat. Shelly blinked back.

  It was a quick journey. Shelly took the back roads and arrived at Rotapangimouth quayside ten minutes before Alice and Deidre.

  “Out…” she said, holding Trevor’s door open for the warriors. It was an order but Shelly was laughing. “And don’t tell her I brought you here. Go on, move.” She grinned as the sheep wandered away. “Maybe see you in Oz.”

  “What’d she say?” asked Oxo.

  “See you in Oz,” replied Wills. “I think that’s the same as Australia. Which is the other part of Down Under.” He stopped and stared. “Look!”

  They looked. And saw that they were standing slap bang in front of a large, sleek motor cruiser. The same motor cruiser that had brought them halfway across the world from Murkton-on-Sea.

  “It’s our Destiny!” they all cried.

  “Right,” said Wills, bouncing up and down with excitement. “It’s Destiny!”

  The boat’s engines were rumbling and Skipper Ed was at the top of the gangway, waiting to welcome Miss Alice Barton back on-board. If welcome was the right word. He didn’t notice the five gray, muddy animals on the quayside. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have recognized them as the same creatures he’d last seen swimming for their lives in Auckland harbor.

  The taxi drew to a halt and Alice stepped out. “Good-bye and good riddance,” she said to Trevor as she hurried past him. She smiled at Shelly. “I presume you have something better in Brisbane?”

  “I’ve got Norman,” Shelly said. “Want to see a pic?”

  “No time,” said Alice, who was now at the bottom of the gangway. “Quickly, Deidre.”

  “Yes, Miss Barton, I’m coming.”

  Alice bustled up the gangway in a cloud of expensive perfume tinged with bad egg. “Good evening, Captain Ted.” She beamed at the skipper. “I have to be in Brisbane as soon as possible. I’m sure you won’t let me down.”

  “Ed…” muttered Ed. “The name’s Ed.” But Alice didn’t hear. Ed signaled his crewmen to cast off the mooring ropes, while his employer leaned on the rail, looking down at the quayside.

  “Good-bye, bungee jumps and rafts and mud,” she whispered with satisfaction. “And good-bye, shee…” The word became briefly strangled in her throat. She was watching five gray blobs hurrying toward the gangway. “Sheep!” she gasped.

  But at the last moment, the gangway was trundled ashore. Destiny began to move. A satisfying gap opened between the boat and the quayside, and the sheep were steadily left behind, stranded. Alice watched them as they stood in a forlorn huddle, staring after the boat, bleating sadly.

  “Farewell!” she cried. “And may we never meet again!”

  The warriors saw her standing by the rail. They saw the kisses she blew and her lovely smile, but they couldn’t hear a word she said because of a long blast on Destiny’s horn.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” said Oxo, dropping his head. “I should’ve butted our way on. I didn’t know it was going to move so soon.”

  “It’s not your fault, dear.” Sal was trying to be brave. “Something will turn up. The Songs of the Fleece are never—”

  They all smelled dog at the same moment. And heard a man shouting behind them.

  “What’s this mob doing loose? Bring ’em on, Gem. Come by! Come by!”

  The next moment, the sheep dog was upon the startled warriors, yapping and yelping and driving them away from Destiny toward a much bigger boat, a large cargo ship, moored farther along the quay.

  The man whistled urgently at the dog and, to escape its snapping teeth, the warriors had no choice. There was only one place to run. They galloped up the wide ramp into the cargo ship’s hold.

  An iron gate clanged shut behind them.

  19

  The Chosen Few

  The warriors huddled together, their bodies shaking, their heads spinning.

  The man with the dog had gone. That was good. There was a man here in the ship but he didn’t have a dog. That was even better.

  And there were sheep.

  One moment the Eppingham rare breeds had been watching their fairy godtingy sail away. The next they were trapped in a ship with a bunch of strangers.

  “Guys. Do us a favor, will ya?” Stay down that end. You stink like a sheep-shearer’s vest.”

  It was a large ram speaking on behalf of the other twenty or so ovines. They were all backing away from the warriors, wrinkling their noses.

  “No offense,” the ram added.

  “None taken,” said Oxo, standing protectively in front of his own little flock.

  He and the other warriors glanced around at the roomy, comfortable pen into which they’d been driven. Actually, it was all right. Better than their little hold on-board Destiny. Almost as nice as Ida’s barn back in Eppingham. Except that the gate was securely locked. And the ship was now moving.

  Oxo turned to the group of stranger sheep again. Apart from the ram, they’d moved as far as they could go against the bars at the far end of the pen.

  “So, what’s going on here, mate?” Oxo asked, eyeing the other large ram.

  “Relocation,” said the ram. Then he added pointedly, “For the chosen few.”

  “Ah…” said Sal. “That will be us. We are all rare breeds. We have often been chosen.”

  The ram looked disbelievingly at her muddy fleece. “Nice to hear it,” he said, though he couldn’t think what they might have been chosen for. “Us lot are Merinos, and…”

  “Ohmygrass…” wailed Jaycey. “Are you geysers? Are you going to whoosh us up in the air any minute now?”

  The ram blinked hard. “Erm…No, actually.”

  Wills had wriggled forward and was standing beside Oxo. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “Relocation means moving to live somewhere else, doesn’t it?”

  “Right,” said the ram, relieved to hear a question that made sense. “Our owner in New Zealand has sold us to a farmer in Oz. On account of us Merinos having the finest wool in the world.”

  “Not!” whispered Jaycey from the safety of Sal’s side. “So not…”

  But Sal was suddenly all aquiver. “Oz?” she gasped. “You mean…Australia?”

  The ram backed away slightly. What had he said now? “Sure. Australia. What else?”

  “I knew it…” Sal charged across the pen, flakes of gray mud flicking from her fleece, and planted a kiss on the ram’s nose.

  He was too surprised to move or speak.

  “Totally fleeced up!” cried Sal as she ran back to the warriors. “See, all of you! We’re on our way to Australia! Our fairy godtingy is still guiding us.”

  Wills wasn’t quite sure how she made that out, but what did it matter? They were certainly on a ship going in the right direction.

  “High hooves…?” asked Sal, still quivering with excitement.

  The warriors each raised a front hoof and clacked them together.

  “High hooves!” they cried.

  “Big shout out to the fairy godtingy, yo!” added Links.

  The Chosen Few looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “Crazy Brits,” muttered the large ram.

  • • •

  The journey took three days and in that time the Chosen Few and the warriors got to know each other better. Sal explained about Tuftella, the maiden in distress, and their mission to save her.

  “Awesome,” the Chosen Few said when she’d finally finished. “That’s, er…fantastic.” But as soon as she turned away they pulled “crazy Brit” faces at each other.

  Jaycey had to admit that the Merino rams were rather handsome, so she hid herself away behind Sal, nibbling frantically at her fleece until she’d got rid of all the gray mud and most of the rotten-egg smell. Then she spen
t a lot of time polishing her hooves on the straw and fluttering her eyelashes.

  • • •

  Meanwhile, on-board Destiny, the only fluttering being done was by stomachs. Destiny was smaller than the cargo ship and it went up and down a lot more. Alice was very ill.

  “This is always a rough crossing,” Skipper Ed told Deidre. He tried to sound sympathetic. Alice hadn’t come out of her cabin for two days, which meant that for two days he hadn’t been asked when they were going to arrive. Or been called Ted.

  Deidre lurched onward with the bowl of thin soup and slice of dry toast she was taking to Alice. Shelly met her at the cabin door, but as she did so the boat suddenly pitched forward and they both had to grab the rail to stop themselves falling. The soup and toast disappeared over the side.

  Shelly grinned at the empty-handed Deidre. “Oh, well,” she said. “What doesn’t go down can’t come up.”

  Then the cabin door burst open. Alice was standing there, green-tinged and wobbling, but clutching an open laptop. To Shelly’s and Deidre’s astonishment, she smiled.

  “I’ve just got my instructions for the test match,” she told them. “Rather unusual. And, of course…” she added, queasy but cheerful, “there won’t be any sheep.”

  Then the boat pitched again and she tumbled backward out of sight behind the slamming door.

  • • •

  The sea around Murkton wasn’t at all rough. It was gray and still under a soft, autumn light. In her field above the harbor, Rose was studying a photograph of Ida’s five rare breed sheep. It was getting harder and harder to fob Ida off with talk of wonky Skypes. It was time to take the bull by the horns. Or the sheep by the fleece. She looked up at the five very ordinary sheep standing in front of her. She’d borrowed them from a farmer friend.

  “Right,” muttered Rose. “Let’s get started.” She put down the photograph, picked up an aerosol can, and advanced on the sheep. “Nothing to be scared of,” she said. “This stuff’s one hundred percent safe for use on humans and animals. And it says the color washes out after one shampoo. Or in your case, one shower of rain. Now. Who’s going to be Jaycey?”