Heart of the Valley

by Cathryn Hein

Unable to help herself, she smiled back. No matter how bad her conduct, his reaction remained constant. No censure or complaint, just understanding. She’d never met anyone like Lachlan Cambridge. Giving Billy an affectionate head rub, she rose to answer his question.

  ‘On the horse pastures, I only direct drill. There are disadvantages, I know, but it’s cheaper than full cultivation and most of all it’s better for the soil. In the past I suppressed pasture growth through either topping or spraying, but last year I asked Greg Hitchcock – he’s the dairy farmer to the north of us – if I could borrow some of his heifers and use them to hard graze instead. You’ll see the result in LL4.’

  ‘It didn’t work?’

  ‘Not as well as I hoped.’

  He nodded. ‘Plants respond differently to grazing. They recover faster.’

  ‘So I discovered. By the time the seedlings were at the two-leaf stage, the older pasture was already too vigorous and swamped the new growth.’ She placed her hands on her hips and studied the paddock, wondering how to solve the dilemma.

  ‘You could spray in bands down the drill rows.’

  ‘I know.’ She sighed and flopped her hands to her sides. ‘I’m just trying to get away from spraying altogether. And no, I’m not a rabid greenie, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s simply that I can see a time in the future when we won’t be able to do it at all, or it’ll be so highly regulated and costly it won’t be worth the while. You only have to consider how bad it is with irrigation nowadays.’

  ‘What about the lucerne? Tough to not use chemicals there.’

  ‘It is, but I know a few farmers who’ve gone organic. It’s hard, but small-bale organic hay sells at a premium in Sydney. Not just for animal feed, either. Some home gardeners buy it for mulch. There’s a market there.’

  ‘And high profitability from reduced inputs.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  He gave her a look she couldn’t fathom but it left her feeling warm, and this time not with embarrassment.

  They moved towards the gate, Billy leaping ahead, his nose grubby with dirt.

  ‘So is this a strategy you want me to follow too?’ Lachlan asked when they entered the lane.

  She hesitated, unsure how to answer. Kingston Downs was his responsibility now. Her dreams were on hold.

  ‘If it’s any help, I’m fairly sympathetic to the idea.’

  Brooke didn’t know if this surprised her or not. Despite her initial antipathy to him, Lachlan was proving an altogether different man than she’d expected. The sort of man, if things were different, she’d like to get to know properly.

  ‘With the horse paddocks, I’d like you to. The lucerne’s another matter. That’d require a serious change in management, not to mention a long transition period before certification. Plus given how much cash the hay crop brings in, you’d never get approval from Mark.’

  ‘Have you run the idea past him?’

  She shook her head. ‘I know what his reaction would be.’

  ‘But perhaps if you explained it …’

  Brooke made a disparaging noise. ‘Mark doesn’t care about the environment or ‘best practices’ or anything else philosophical. All he cares about is cash flow and profit.’

  She opened the gate to the next paddock and led him into it, explaining its history as she walked. He listened attentively, asked smart questions, and most of all, treated her like an equal, which not only made her feel proud, it also made her recent treatment of him seem even surlier.

  They worked their way round the property, discussing each paddock in turn, enjoying the rising morning, until they reached Poddy and Venus’s paddock. From the moment she opened the gate, the horse and pony crowded round for attention. Venus bunted her woolly head against Lachlan’s thigh, making him laugh with her demand for affection. His laugh was a warm sound, deep and honest, which Brooke liked.

  She kissed and stroked Poddy’s nose, watching Lachlan as he scruffed Venus’s forelock like she was a big dog. Given the Shetland’s tiny stature against his size, she almost looked like one.

  Brooke also found herself admiring his easy way with the horses. No fear, no nerves – not even with Sod – just easy rapport.

  ‘You like horses?’ she asked when they’d completed their greetings and indulged the horses enough.

  ‘Yeah. They’re funny animals. Not smart like dogs, and ruled more by their instincts, but they’re sweet-natured mostly.’

  ‘So, can you ride?’

  ‘Not like you.’ He dug his fingers into Venus’s mane and scratched. The pony’s eyes closed in pleasure. ‘We had horses as kids but they’re gone now.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Me and my brother, Nick.’

  ‘Older or younger?’

  ‘Younger.’

  ‘And is he at …’ She searched for the property name he’d used but it eluded her. ‘At your parents’ place?’

  ‘No. He’s at uni in Armidale studying to be a teacher.’

  Lachlan let go of Venus and moved towards Poddy, and ran a big hand down his neck. His fingernails were clipped and clean, she noticed. Not manicured or pampered, simply neat. Neat and big, like everything about him.

  ‘He was your champion, wasn’t he?’

  She kissed Poddy’s nose. ‘Still is.’

  ‘He’s a good-looking horse, that’s for sure. Such a shame he can’t showjump any more because of his eye.’

  ‘Not because of his eye. He broke his —’ She clung to Poddy as an invisible fist grabbed her throat, and quickly ducked her head to hide her expression. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away. Sensing distress, Poddy shuffled.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it.’

  She shook her head. She wasn’t going to give in to this. Not in front of Lachlan. She dropped her hands from Poddy and pressed her fingers into her wrist, counting out the beats.

  Exhaling slowly, she faced him again, under control. ‘It’s okay. He shattered his third tarsal bone trying to kick free. With proper treatment it’s not always a career-ending injury but unfortunately for Poddy it looks like it is. He’s not lame, but the latest X-rays showed calcification in the bone. If I put him back into work he’ll only break down again.’ She bit her lip, eyes watering. ‘I love him too much to see him in pain.’

  Annoyed at being ignored, Venus bustled between them. Lachlan steered the Shetland gently aside and focused on the demanding pony, giving Brooke a chance to wipe at her tears. She didn’t know if he’d done it on purpose but was grateful all the same.

  ‘I think Venus has a crush on you,’ she said when she’d recovered. The pony’s eyes were half-closed, her lip quivering in delight at his ministrations.

  ‘Like Billy with you, she’s sussed out I’m a soft touch for a scratch.’

  He regarded her for moment, eyes roaming her face, hunting, she suspected, for further signs of distress. There wouldn’t be. Not today. She’d already embarrassed herself enough. Satisfied, he pulled up his sleeve and checked his watch. Brooke did the same, surprised to see it was almost ten. They’d been at it for nearly three hours.

  Lachlan appeared as amazed as she was. ‘Time flies.’

  ‘Yeah. I had no idea.’

  They stared at each other.

  ‘Well, I suppose —’

  ‘I guess —’

  Lachlan grinned and indicated for her to speak first. ‘Brains and beauty before brawn.’

  His compliment, though made as a joke, left her momentarily confounded. Poddy plonked his head on her shoulder and blew warm breath into her ear and snapped her out of her fuddlement. It meant nothing. A figure of speech. Nothing more.

  ‘I was just going to say we’d better go and do some work.’

  ‘Exactly what I was about to suggest.’

  The horses followed them to the gate, Venus neighing forlornly as they shut it behind them, and continued up the lane. They said little on the way. Brooke felt shy in Lachlan’s presence, but she wasn’t sure why. There
was no doubt he was nice, and attractive too, and perhaps under other circumstances they could be real friends. But the fact remained that while he was here at Kingston Downs the life she adored, her home, all she loved, was at risk. And the longer he stayed, the stronger the pressure to move to Sydney would become.

  Her family’s well-meaning coercions, though tempered thanks to Angus, were already near unbearable.

  How bad they’d be in a few months’ time, she didn’t want to contemplate.

  Seven

  Friday lunchtime found Brooke balanced on the rail surrounding Willowgrove’s undercover ménage alongside Chloe, watching Andrew work his impressive new Holsteiner colt, Marchment. The horse had only arrived that morning. Chloe should have been in the salon, but like Brooke, she couldn’t resist sneaking away for an ogle.

  Large fluorescent lights lit an interior larger than Kingston Downs’ dressage and showjumping arenas combined. At the far end of the ménage, a two-tier spectator stand rose from the special sand and fibre surface. Protective padding layered the walls of the two long sides, on one of which Chloe and Brooke sat perched. Music filtered through expensive speakers strategically placed for acoustic clarity. Andrew usually fed crowd noise through them to acclimatise his youngsters, but today he’d chosen the sort of hyped-up dance music Brooke loathed but which he and Chloe adored.

  The horse was, as Andrew had bragged, magnificent. A leggy colt with perfect conformation and gaits that flowed like silk. Generations of selective breeding showed in his build and haughty posture. Marchment was an animal well aware of his stunning looks, and showed off accordingly with head tosses and a strutting, look-at-me manner. A perfect complement to his equally swaggering master.

  ‘That outfit’s ridiculous, I’ll have you know,’ Brooke called as Andrew cantered past on the snorting animal. As though wanting to coordinate with his mount, he’d dressed in black, but with audacious highlights. His breeches sported contrasting scarlet patch pockets over the hips and scarlet rubbery knee grips running in diagonal stripes down the inside leg. A scarlet chest pocket emblazoned his black, body-hugging seventies-style shirt. Even Marchment’s saddlecloth and browband stood out, brightly blood red against his dark, glossy coat.

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘No. It makes you look like a bull ant.’

  Chloe choked back a snort.

  Andrew laughed and eased Marchment to a walk before stroking a palm down the front of his own chest, stretching the fabric tighter over his slim but athletic build. ‘It’s Italian. Very fashionable in Europe at the moment.’

  Brooke rolled her eyes. She loved her friend but God, the man could be vain. ‘Fashionable on the continent maybe, but only cause for sledging in Australia.’

  Tossing her a ‘you think you’re so clever’ sneer, Andrew turned Marchment away, calling over his shoulder as he headed to the other side of the arena, ‘The problem with you, Brooke Kingston, is that you have no fashion sense at all. Your poor mother must be in despair.’

  ‘He has a point,’ said Chloe, nudging her.

  ‘Nothing wrong with being a dag. Anyway, that outfit is ridiculous.’

  Chloe tilted her head to the side, considering. ‘I don’t know. I think it’s quite sexy.’

  Brooke stared at her and blinked, astonished by the expression on Chloe’s face. An expression which, if she didn’t know her friend better, she could almost interpret as longing.

  Chloe darted her eyes at Brooke and her face switched to one of her sparkly-eyed, cheeky grins. ‘But don’t you dare tell him I said that. Andrew has a big enough head as it is.’ She slid off the rail. ‘Hey, bull-ant man, can I’ve a ride?’

  ‘You talking about me or my horse?’

  ‘The horse, doofus. The other one you can only dream about.’

  He cantered towards Chloe and halted Marchment perfectly square, as though he’d just completed a dressage test. ‘You think you can handle him?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ she said, throwing him a wink, ‘I’m an expert at rides.’

  He dismounted and ran a hand down her long hair, expression teasing. ‘You better be, otherwise it’s bye-bye Goldilocks, hello Baldy.’

  Chloe didn’t bite. She merely raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow as her mouth quirked with smug confidence.

  With Chloe organised and astride Marchment, Andrew joined Brooke on the fence. ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘Impressive. Have you jumped him?’

  ‘Only over small stuff. Still a bit of work to do there. He has talent, though.’ He regarded her. ‘You should think about getting a new horse. Marchie’s half-sister is up for sale.’

  Brooke observed Chloe as she carefully rode Marchment around the arena, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on getting a feel for the horse. Her friend looked as beautiful on horseback as she did on the ground – slim, long-legged, soft-handed and fluid. No wonder she won so many hacking competitions. She could make any mount look stunning.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You need to think about the future, Brooke.’

  ‘I do. All the time. That’s the trouble.’

  ‘Hey, stop worrying. You’ll get better.’

  Brooke turned away, biting her lip against her disquiet, wishing she had Andrew’s faith.

  He reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘I’d do anything to make things right for you, you know that.’

  ‘I know, and you’re sweet but it’s not your fault. The blame’s mine.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  She shook her head and pulled her hand from under his to cross her arms over her chest, covering the ache inside. He could argue all he liked but the truth remained. The accident was her fault, its tragic consequences hers alone to deal with.

  His gaze stayed on her, burning, reminding Brooke of all he longed for. All she couldn’t give him.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said softly when the intensity became too much.

  His mouth thinned. Anger tinged his voice. ‘I’m still allowed to care about you, you know. What happened between us doesn’t change that. We’re still friends.’

  She wanted to believe him, to cling to the notion that they were as solid as always, but she couldn’t forget his confession. Love didn’t just disappear overnight.

  She swallowed, wishing she knew how he really felt. Realising the only way to find out was to ask, she opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind at the sight of Chloe cantering towards them. Perhaps another time.

  ‘That was pretty awesome,’ said Chloe, halting Marchment as squarely perfect as Andrew had done. ‘Like riding a rocking horse.’ She dismounted, moving forward to fondle Marchment’s ears as she kissed his cheek. ‘We should put you in a hacking class. That’d make all those other pretties sit up.’

  ‘Don’t give him ideas.’ Andrew jumped to the ground and took the reins from Chloe. ‘He already thinks he’s God’s gift.’

  ‘Bit like his owner then.’

  Andrew poked his tongue out at her. Cross-eyed, Chloe returned the compliment until both broke into laughter, and for a brief moment, Brooke experienced a twinge of envy at being left out. Stupid, given she’d never once felt envious of her friends’ easy relationship – but she’d changed so much since the accident. And not necessarily for the better.

  Andrew jerked his head towards Brooke, all anger gone. ‘Help me convince our stubborn friend here she needs to buy a new horse.’

  ‘Andrew’s right. You need something to keep you occupied. A young horse might be the challenge you need.’

  Brooke dropped from the fence and stroked Marchment’s silky neck. ‘What’s the point? It’s not like I’ll be able to take it anywhere.’

  Chloe exchanged a rolled-eye look with Andrew. ‘Oh, aren’t you a Miss Misery Guts!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Andrew. ‘What happened to the Brooke we’re used to?’

  Brooke’s fingers clenched around Marchment’s fine mane. ‘I’ve tried. I can’t do it.’

  ‘You can.’<
br />
  ‘We believe in you.’

  A spark lit in Andrew’s eyes. ‘You’ll beat it. The Chiang-man says so.’

  ‘And, as we all know,’ said Chloe with mock seriousness, ‘the Chiang-man here is never wrong.’

  Brooke looked from Andrew to Chloe and back again, and laughed. They might share their ups and downs but God, she was lucky to have them in her life. ‘I don’t deserve you two.’

  Chloe slung her arm around Brooke’s shoulder. ‘No, you don’t. But we’re here anyway.’ She focused on Brooke’s face. ‘You will be able to do it. It mightn’t happen overnight but in time you’ll get your confidence back. You just have to keep working at it.’

  Yet later that afternoon, as Brooke sat with her hands death-gripped on the steering wheel of her Land Cruiser, all she felt was the rawness of failure.

  Her stomach clenched as Venus’s annoyed whinny sounded through the car’s open window. Despite the cold, Brooke’s hands were sticky with sweat. No sound came from the Land Cruiser’s engine and unless she took hold of herself and turned the ignition key, none ever would.

  Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, trying to channel the resolve that had seemed so intense on leaving Willowgrove. Andrew and Chloe had faith; why couldn’t she?

  ‘You okay?’

  She looked up to find Lachlan standing near the door, eyeing her with a worried expression, and quickly looked away again. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look it.’

  ‘I said I’m fine.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m just …’ She threw up her hands, hating her rudeness, this awkward, horrible situation.

  ‘Grieving,’ he said, tossing the word she’d used before back at her.

  He took a step closer and curled his hand over the door. She stared at him. His eyes were doing that tortoiseshell thing, and his mouth held a gentle curve. Standing there, he seemed big and safe and strong and kind. Like Angus, except musclier and with much, much longer eyelashes.

  ‘It’s not grief,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’m scared, like you said. It’s Oddy’s screams. I can’t make him stop. He just gets louder and louder and then I can’t breathe …’ She slapped the wheel in frustration. ‘I need to beat this but he just won’t stop.’