The Horse Thief

by Téa Cooper

  India left the kitchen with her skin prickling. Peggy was nowhere to be seen. Three white bed sheets billowed on the clothes line and Jilly stood pegging out more. The gate to the vegetable garden was closed. None of the usual activity in the stables; the mares were all out grazing. The mating yard stood empty. Shivering, she ran into the stables.

  ‘Oh Miss India! Thank ’eavens. I was sent to saddle a horse for you,’ Fred said.

  ‘Saddle a horse for me? Why?’

  ‘It’s Mrs Kilhampton. She’s taken off. Anya and Peggy can’t find her. Mr Jim, he’s taken Euros but he’s real worried because Jefferson’s gone and he thinks Mrs Kilhampton might be riding him. He’s a mighty stroppy horse for a lady, ’specially a lady who’s like Mrs Kilhampton. Sorry miss, no disrespect meant.’

  India swallowed, trying to marshal her thoughts. She’d never heard Fred speak at such length and it sent shivers down her spine.

  ‘Go and get Aura for me and bring her back as fast as you can.’

  Taking the ladder to the hayloft at a run she clambered right to the top and onto the piles of stacked hay. From the highest air vents she had a complete view of the property. Breathing heavily she peered out through the slatted timber. On the far side of the lagoon Anya and Peggy made their way around the shallows, each holding a long stick, pushing aside the tussocky grass and prodding the water. Surely they didn’t think her mother had fallen into the water.

  She dismissed the idea and squinted out beyond the lagoon to the paperbark forest. If Jefferson had thrown Mama he’d be running free. For a moment her heart snagged as she saw a flash of bay. The rider came into focus; Jim appeared to be riding in ever decreasing circles, covering the uncultivated area between the river and the paddocks.

  ‘Miss, I’m here.’ Fred’s voice floated up the ladder. She slithered down and launched herself onto Aura’s back from the sixth rung of the ladder.

  Fred whistled between his teeth. ‘Bloody hell!’

  ‘Fred.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘You are to stay here.’

  ‘Aww, miss.’

  ‘Stay here with Miss Violet in case Mama comes back. If she does, tell Violet to take her back to her room, sit her in her chair by the window and stay with her. Do you understand?’

  ‘Aww, miss.’

  The arrangements were the best she could do. Wheeling Aura around she left, ignoring Fred’s plaintive moans.

  As she headed down the track she scanned the undergrowth for any sign of her mother. After the other night Anya and Peggy would be at the lagoon.

  History was repeating itself. Flashes of that fateful day flickered behind her eyes. Papa out searching. Men with staffs prodding the lagoon as Peggy and Anya were today. It couldn’t happen for a second time and Jim … poor Jim must be beside himself. His beautiful horse. What if something happened to Jefferson? She shuddered.

  After an eternity she rounded the bend in the track and the river came into view. The river where she and Jim had—she shook the thought from her mind and concocted a string of ludicrous promises about looking after Mama, spending more time with her, paying more attention to her, ignoring Jim and the strange sensations he aroused. Beyond the old jetty she spotted him cantering across the paddock with his loose, easy grace. Her heart lifted at the sight. She was no longer alone. With his help Mama would be found.

  ‘Jim! Jim!’ She waved her hat in circles high above her head. He spotted her in an instant and spurred his horse into a gallop. They met in the middle of the paddock where the long grass swayed around them like a receding tide.

  ‘Any sight of her?’

  Jim shook his head.

  ‘Jefferson?’

  He shook his head again.

  ‘Jim, I’m so sorry. I know how much Jefferson means to you.’

  ‘It’s your mother we must worry about.’

  He pointed to the paperbark forest. ‘When I first arrived on the property I saw her over there.’

  ‘That’s near where she had her accident.’ The knot in India’s stomach wrenched tighter.

  They spurred their horses across the paddock to the tangled mess of trees where a wallaby track snaked in and out of the clumps of low trees and bushes.

  Jim lifted his hands to his mouth. ‘Cooee! Mrs Kilhampton …’ His voice rang out and seconds later the echo bounced back from the distant sandstone hills.

  India screwed up her face. Would Jim’s calls panic Mama, or encourage her to respond?

  ‘Not a good idea?’ he said, reading her expression.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I honestly don’t know. I doubt she’ll respond. However, she’s been talking to me on and off for the last few days so it’s possible.’

  They halted the horses and he called again, his deep voice resounding through the trees.

  The same wavering echo was the only reply.

  Walking in single file down the narrow track India scanned either side of the forest for any sign Mama had cut off the track. There was nothing. Her stomach sank. Heavens! She may not even be on this track. She may be facedown in the river or the lagoon. ‘Jim, I think we should go back. I can’t imagine her coming all this way.’

  ‘One more try.’ He lifted his hands to his mouth. ‘Coooeeee! Mrs Kilhampton!’ Jim’s voice rang out loud and clear then the fading response bounded back. With a disappointed shake of his head he wheeled his horse around and they retraced their steps.

  ‘What next?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘The river?’

  ‘Yes. The river.’ Despite the heat of the midday sun India shivered.

  ‘Cooee! Mr Cobb! Cooee! Mr Cobb!’

  ‘What was that?’ Jim swung around in the saddle. ‘Over here. We’re over here.’

  Mr Cobb?

  Jefferson broke through the trees and galloped towards Jim. India’s mouth gaped. Her mother, eyes blazing and a huge smile wreathing her face, reined Jefferson in with an enviable amount of skill.

  ‘Mr Cobb. I’m so pleased I’ve found you.’

  ‘Mrs Kilhampton. We feared the worst.’ Jim slipped from his saddle and reached for Jefferson’s bridle. His hand soothed his horse’s foaming mouth as he scanned the animal for injury.

  Mr Cobb?

  Sixteen

  Jim’s shoulders dropped and he sucked in a deep breath as he ran his hand over Jefferson’s neck and muzzle. Keeping a firm grasp on the bridle he shot a look down the animal’s flanks. Unable to see any injury to horse or rider he moved to the offside. Nothing. In fact the woman sat as though born to the saddle, except there was no saddle.

  ‘Mama!’ India’s voice rose above the heavy breathing of all three horses as she slipped to the ground. ‘Are you all right? What are you doing out here? So far from the house.’

  Mrs Kilhampton tossed an impatient glance at her daughter and urged Jefferson forwards. Jim clamped his hand around the bridle. Now they’d found her he wouldn’t let her out of his sight again, or for that matter Jefferson.

  ‘One moment, please.’ He tried to keep his tone even and offered a tentative smile, mindful of the way she’d fled on the first day. She shivered like a frightened filly as India’s screeches rose, resembling her sister in the mating yard.

  ‘India, why don’t you go back and tell Anya and Peggy we have found Mrs Kilhampton.’

  ‘Jim! You …’

  ‘Now! I have this under control.’ He locked her gaze. She would do as he said.

  ‘India, do what Mr Cobb said.’

  ‘Oh Mama, I … Mr Cobb?’ she questioned again.

  ‘Stop arguing, child. Do as you’re told.’

  With an enormous huffing sound India remounted then threw him a bemused glance over her shoulder and headed back down the track.

  Jim exhaled a slow, shuddering breath.

  ‘Thank goodness you came, Mr Cobb. I knew you would. We remembered exactly where to go but I rather hoped you would find us.’ She patted Jefferson’s damp neck. ‘He’s a wonderfu
l horse but then you knew that from the outset, didn’t you? You have such an eye for an animal.’

  His mind circled, trying to make sense of her words. She must have mistaken him for his father. He doubted India realised Cobb was his rightful name, or how Mrs Kilhampton would know. Right now it was the least of his concerns. He had to get her back to the security of the house, and if it meant pretending to be his father then so be it.

  And Jefferson. Jefferson was obviously doing a very good imitation of pretending to be his father. If the bloody horse could do it then so could he. Slipping a lead rope from his saddle Jim moved to clip it onto the bridle.

  She jerked the reins, pulling Jefferson’s head around. ‘I don’t need that, for goodness sake.’ She edged the horse past him on the track. ‘You of all people know how well I ride. You taught me all sorts of tricks.’ She pulled her bare feet up onto Jefferson’s back and dropped the reins, her arms spread like a butterfly’s wings.

  ‘Mrs Kilhampton, please.’ Jesus Christ! If she fell history would repeat itself, and heaven only knew what Jefferson would do if she did as she threatened and stood. The possibility of another accident, more blame and another injured horse made his blood run cold.

  She tossed her head and shot him a tedious glance before sinking back down and bolting down the track.

  Jim sprang into the saddle and followed, his eyes trained on the swathe of grey-blonde hair hanging down to her waist. He’d known as soon as he’d seen India that these two women were somehow related.

  As the track opened out he pulled alongside Jefferson. The horse turned his head and looked at him, snorted and continued on his way with a delighted prance. Almost as though he was enjoying being the centre of attention.

  ‘I knew you’d come back.’

  Jim sucked in a breath. ‘Let’s get back to the house and see what Anya and Peggy know,’ he said, hoping it was the right response for the poor woman forced to wander the property searching for her dead child.

  The look she flashed him was so like India’s his stomach turned. ‘Good idea, Mr Cobb. You can always be trusted to come up with the perfect solution.’

  Jim returned her look with a tentative smile and scanned the open paddock searching for India. She was nowhere in sight. With any luck she’d found Anya and Peggy and they were heading back to the house. Quite what he’d do when he got there he didn’t know. In fact, he had no idea about anything. Mrs Kilhampton’s effusive greeting and friendly smile were at odds with all he knew. Surely she wouldn’t treat the man responsible for her family’s misfortunes with such confidence. She’d greeted him like a long-lost friend and she appeared to have no difficulty in talking to him. Hardly the relationship one would expect between the lady of the house and the hired help.

  For the remainder of the ride she sat seemingly lost in her thoughts, occasionally glancing up to the sky or over her shoulder, but not speaking. As Jim mulled over the strange situation his mistake became clear. When his family had been sent packing from the property Mrs Kilhampton lay as good as dead. She knew nothing of their departure. Had anyone bothered to tell her that his father was no longer working on the property?

  The gate and Fred came into view and Jim’s shoulders dropped the moment they entered the home paddocks. Fred swung the gate and made to speak. Jim raised his hand and shook his head. For once the boy did as he was told, closed his mouth and the gate in matching movements, then followed them up the track on foot.

  Once back at the stables Mrs Kilhampton dismounted and Jim led Jefferson into the stall. She began to walk away then turned and picked up a biscuit of lucerne hay. ‘He likes a reward after a ride.’ She scratched Jefferson behind his ears and dropped the hay into the stall, then drifted off towards the house.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Fred appeared at his elbow. ‘That was weird.’

  ‘On this occasion,’ Jim said, ‘I think I agree with you. Can you see to these animals? They both need a good rub down and so will Aura. Miss India is back, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yep.’ Fred tossed his head in the direction of the kitchen. ‘She’s with Peggy. Peggy said she was spitting feathers. Had to have a cup of tea. She’d come over all unnecessary.’

  Jim slumped down on a mound of straw. He’d just about come over all unnecessary too, and once Mrs Kilhampton was safely back in her rooms he’d have some questions to answer, that was for sure.

  So be it. It was time to come clean and tell India the truth, admit his association with the property and explain why he was there. Today’s events had lost him the luxury of picking his moment. He wandered outside and stuck his head under the pump, then shook himself like a dog. The water sprayed out around him making a circle on the dusty ground, just like it had when he was a kid. He’d miss the place. It was in his blood as much as Jefferson’s, however there was little he could do about it. The saddest part of the whole mess was he’d never stand his horse at stud or see him race at Flemington.

  Determined to get the whole horrendous debacle over and clear up everything once and for all, Jim made for the kitchen. He had a need to know India was safe, to see her and, if truth be known, hold her in his arms. The likelihood of that ever happening again was receding faster than an odds-on favourite.

  Without bothering to knock he walked into the kitchen. Peggy sat crumpled at the kitchen table, her face red and flustered, and Violet hovered around her like a persistent fly offering damp towels and cups of tea.

  ‘Is India about?’

  ‘She’s upstairs with Anya, settling Mama down,’ Violet said without even looking in his direction.

  No offer of tea was forthcoming so he hung in the doorway unproductive, useless and unwelcome. After a few moments Peggy lifted her head and looked at him shrewdly. ‘So are you going to spill the beans?’

  Violet froze and her eyes narrowed as she squinted at him.

  ‘I need to speak to India.’

  ‘Before you do, young man, let me tell you a few things. First and foremost I’ve thought there was something a bit dodgy about you from the moment you walked in. Far too familiar and far too at home.’ Peggy tipped her head to one side in a bird-like fashion. ‘What have you got to say about that?’ Her chin jutted.

  Peggy was a bit too knowing for her own good. He had no recollection of her working at Helligen when he was a child; however, she didn’t miss a trick. He’d never have got away with his ruse for so long if Peggy had been around when he and his family left. ‘What I have to say needs to be said to India before anyone else.’

  ‘I’ll go and get her,’ Violet jumped in, her eyes wide with a curiosity he’d rather not have to deal with.

  ‘I’d like to speak to her on my own.’

  ‘Oh, you would, would you?’ Peggy said, putting two and two together and coming up with fifty-four.

  ‘I owe it to her.’

  The latch on the door clicked as India pulled it tight and turned the heavy brass key. Until Anya returned she couldn’t run the risk of her mother wandering off again.

  Questions jostled for space in her head. Her mother’s disjointed sentences and illusions of the past were just too confusing. If only she’d been older and had a better memory of the days before and after the accident.

  Obviously Mama was still living in the past. Her words made little or no sense. To think that Jefferson was Goodfellow was, in a way, understandable. The two horses were very similar. When had she last seen Goodfellow? Not since he’d thrown her. He was shot while she was insensible. Buried at the same time as Oliver. Too many deaths. Too many losses. No wonder Papa hated the place. More than anything else Mama’s strange reaction to Jim nagged at her. She’d called him Mr Cobb and seemed so familiar with him, so at ease, so calm. A different woman. She shook her head. The idea Mama was recovering was a myth; she’d crawled further back into the past and now would probably never regain her senses. Anya needed to be with her. Where was she? Usually the most diligent of nurses, she’d vanished.

  The kitchen was the obvious
place and as she walked downstairs the sound of voices drifted through the walkway. The door stood ajar. She reached for the handle and paused.

  ‘He is the spitting image of his father.’ Anya’s words brought her up sharp. ‘Alike as two peas in a pod. And about the same age he was when we first arrived here.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Violet’s petulant tone drifted under the door and India pressed closer. She didn’t understand either.

  ‘Then there’s the horse. I would have thought it was Goodfellow if I didn’t know any better. Just like that portrait in the library.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’ Violet interrupted.

  ‘Violet, be quiet. Let Anya speak. She knows more about this than anyone else.’

  ‘It is not my place to discuss Miss Laila’s situation.’

  ‘Anya.’ Peggy’s tone indicated her frustration. ‘I’ve respected your refusal to discuss things for a long time. None of my business what happened here before I arrived, but things have changed now and I need a bit of background if I’m supposed to do my job.’

  ‘And I have every right to know, she’s my mother.’

  Anya’s sigh was so loud India heard it, then there was the scrape of a chair, and she craned closer to the door.

  ‘Miss Laila tried and tried … baby. Mr Kilhampton … she was always outside working with the horses, working with … put a stop to it … doctors said she must stay abed … Oliver born … Thomas Cobb … spitting image of his father …’

  Anya’s dulcet tones were barely audible and Peggy’s grunts and groans punctuated the fragments of conversation. Unable to stand it a moment longer India threw open the door. Peggy and Anya lifted their heads in unison and their mouths gaped.

  Not so Violet. A brilliant smile crossed her face and she sank down onto the chair and folded her arms. The atmosphere crackled like dry grass underfoot in a drought. The colour rose to Peggy and Anya’s cheeks. Violet smirked and licked her lips—the cat had unearthed a rat’s nest.

  ‘Well?’ India asked.

  Peggy recovered first. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’