by Janet Gover
Carrie couldn’t hold his gaze. What if she was wrong? The thought hadn’t even occurred to her until this very moment. What if she gave him hope – only to have it crushed again? She didn’t want to do that. ‘Have you got a photo somewhere of the stallion?’
‘There’s this.’ Justin moved to the door next to the bookcase. He pushed it open and stood back so the others could see inside. It was a small room, obviously his office. There was a computer on the desk, and a selection of horse related magazines littered about. But that was not what caught her attention. Carrie’s eyes went straight to the painting hanging over the desk. Done by an artist of some skill, it showed a thoroughbred stallion. His coat was such a rich dark brown it was almost black. His shapely head was held proudly – and a large white blaze ran down his face, sliding off to one side as if the artist had slipped while painting it.
Beside her, Quinn drew a sharp breath. ‘But that’s the spitting image …’ Her voice tailed off.
It was left to Carrie to speak the words. She turned to Justin, and spoke with absolute certainty. ‘Mariah had a colt. He survived and now he’s running with the brumbies.’
Chapter Ten
‘Are you sure?’ Justin knew he’d asked the question a dozen times already, but he couldn’t help himself. The wait at the top of the gorge was killing him.
‘I’m sure,’ Carrie said softly.
He hoped she was right. If she was she had just changed his whole world.
Careful not to make a noise, Justin eased his weight on the rough sandstone rock and stretched his legs for a few blessed moments before dropping back into his hidden position. The four of them were settled among some big sandstone boulders near a billabong in the National Park. The moment Carrie had told him what she’d seen in this place, he’d practically forced them to bring him here. He had to know if his father’s legacy was waiting for him among the wild horses.
He glanced up at the sun. ‘They’ll be here soon. If they are coming.’
The waterhole was deserted, except for half a dozen kangaroos picking at the short green grass at the water’s edge.
‘It’s the best water in this part of the park,’ Dan said. ‘They’ll be here.’
If they haven’t been frightened away, Justin thought. Dan had told him the whole story during the hour long drive from his property to Tyangi Park. The authorities wanted the horses out of the park, and it was Dan’s job to do that, one way or the other. Justin had been shocked to learn that the parks authority considered shooting the horses an appropriate solution. He was a horseman. He knew that brumbies were usually not the best examples of their species, but even so … they deserved better than that. He understood Dan’s reluctance to carry out his instructions. He was looking for a way out and Justin was going to help him. Even if the stallion wasn’t Mariah’s colt, he would try to save the brumbies.
Justin felt a sudden cold shiver run up his spine. Dan had confessed to almost shooting the stallion. If he had … and the stallion really was Mariah’s colt … Justin did not want to think about how close he may have come to losing this chance.
The roos by the waterhole paused in their grazing, their pointed faces turned towards the faint sound of hoof beats approaching from the west. The leading horses came into view. Two mares led the brumby herd at an easy walk. Both had foals at their sides. And both foals had a distinctive white blaze down their faces.
Justin stopped breathing as a yearling trotted past the mares, heading for the sweet smell of the water. He was a chestnut, with one white stocking and that same crooked blaze down his face.
‘There he is,’ Carrie whispered beside him. Justin instinctively reached for her hand as he watched a ghost walk into the gully.
On Justin’s thirteenth birthday his father had walked with him down to the stables where Finnegan was waiting. Unlike some of his contemporaries, Sean Fraser believed his stud horses should also be ridden. Justin had spent hours watching his father and the big bay stallion with the crooked white blaze. Together they formed that rare thing – a perfect partnership of horse and rider. Justin’s young heart yearned to be that good; to have the same close connection with such a magnificent horse. On this momentous day, Sean had saddled his stallion and led him from the stable yard. With no ceremony at all, he simply handed the reins to his son. Justin’s heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. He was really too short to ride the big thoroughbred, but that didn’t bother him. With the skill of a born horseman honed by years of his father’s training, he had managed to swing onto the horse’s back. There had followed the best forty minutes of his young life, basking in the glow of his father’s approval.
That day he had found his life’s purpose on the back of a horse they were to lose so terribly during the bushfire. Every day since then, Justin had worked to become as good as his father. To carry on after his father was gone. Today, for the first time, he saw the possibility of achieving those goals as he watched Finnegan’s twin walk towards him.
There was absolutely no doubt in his mind. This was Finnegan’s last son. Mariah must have survived the fire and foaled in the wild. Most of the herd was visible now, milling around at the water’s edge. He ran his eye over the mares, but the one he sought was not there. That was tragic. She had been a lovely creature, beautiful to look at and equally so in her nature. She might not have survived the rigours of life in the outback – but her colt had. Survived and more. Justin could hardly believe what he was seeing.
The stallion was spectacular. He was the spitting image of his sire: in the way he moved and the arrogance of his carriage, not to mention that distinctive blaze on his face. There was something of his dam in him too. Mariah’s gift was the underlying red gleam of his unbrushed coat and the elegance in the fine bones of his legs.
Justin closed his eyes as emotion took him.
I wish you could see him, Dad. He’s everything you said he would be. And more.
When he opened his eyes, it was Carrie he saw. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She smiled at him, the first genuine happiness he’d seen on her face since her race fall. Carrie had found Mariah’s son and brought Justin here. She had opened a door that he had believed was closed to him forever. In just a couple of hours, she had changed his life. He didn’t know how he would ever express his gratitude.
He suddenly realised he was still holding her hand. He clasped it with both of his and squeezed ever so gently. He looked into her eyes and slowly smiled.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered in a voice so low only Carrie would hear.
For a dozen heartbeats they stayed like that, then a squeal from one of the colts dragged their attention back to the waterhole. Reluctantly, Justin released Carrie’s hand and gave himself over to watching the stallion. He had sought higher ground, standing guard over the herd as they relaxed by the waterhole. His intelligent face turned to look for danger, as his nostrils flared, reading the wind. Satisfied, the stallion finally relaxed and moved towards the billabong so he too could drink.
Justin could have watched them for hours.
When at last the horses started moving away, Justin turned to Dan.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’m in. There’s no doubt in my mind. That is Mariah’s son. And I want him back. I’ll take the foals as well, if you like. In fact, I’ll take them all, if you’re happy with that.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. They’re all yours. If we can catch them.’
‘I don’t suppose there are any stockyards in the park anywhere?’ Justin said, thinking out loud.
‘Nope.’ Dan shook his head. ‘But I have an idea.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It would be easier to show you. Follow me.’
As he led the others away from the billabong, Dan felt the first stirrings of hope. Getting Justin on the team was a big leap forward. He and Carrie had the necessary skills to pull this off and save the horses. And Justin had just solved the issue of what to do with them once they were caug
ht. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be spared.
‘Dan, why don’t you ride with me?’
Quinn’s question caught him a little off guard. Earlier this afternoon, he’d left his park vehicle at the ranger station. It was almost out of petrol, and rather than waste time while he refuelled, he had travelled the rest of the way in Justin’s ute. Both women had followed in Quinn’s Humvee, which she had stubbornly refused to leave behind. Dan had assumed the same arrangement would apply as they made their way to their next stop.
He looked at Quinn and raised an eyebrow.
By way of an answer, she just nodded to where Justin and Carrie were walking together, deep in conversation.
‘I guess we should let the experts start planning,’ he said. Quinn gave a derisive snort that left him totally baffled.
The two vehicles were parked in the shade of a small clump of acacia trees, where there was no danger the horses would be spooked by them. The long, low square shape of Quinn’s Humvee was as familiar to Dan as his own face. This one was painted a shiny golden metallic gloss paint, not desert camouflage, but in the dim light and covered with rest dust, it didn’t look all that different to the Humvees he had spent so much time in during his tours. Except for the roof. There was no weapons shield.
No heavy machine gun.
No MK19 grenade gun.
But guns were no protection against an IED.
A roadside bomb.
The sound was deafening, and the shockwave pummelled his body like an iron fist as the Humvee shot into the air and rolled, coming to rest on its side.
The smell of smoke. Of flesh burning.
The screams were dim at first. As if coming from a distance. But as his ears cleared, they were closer and closer. All around him.
The screams were his screams too, as they dragged him from the Humvee …
Lying on the sand as his unit opened fire.
Blood and pain …
‘Dan … Dan!’
He blinked and the pain and confusion and noise in his head faded to be replaced by the slow peaceful sounds of twilight in the outback. Beside him, Quinn stood with her head on one side, her brows creased.
‘Dan, are you—’
‘Sorry,’ he said hastily. ‘I was daydreaming.’
The narrowing of her eyes told him she didn’t believe that. She was too smart a woman not to suspect that something was wrong with him.
Before Quinn could ask anything more, Dan moved swiftly to the passenger side of the Hummer. He already knew Quinn well enough to know she wasn’t about to relinquish the driver’s seat. And besides, he thought as he reached for the door, it was better that the driver’s hands were not shaking the way his were.
He fought the memories down. This was a different Humvee in a different time and place. There was no threat here. He opened the door and got in.
The inside wasn’t like any Humvee he’d ever been in before.
It wasn’t just the lack of armour. Or the comfortable seats. The back of the vehicle was fitted with built-in cabinets in polished wood. There was a bedding roll and what looked like a folding table and chairs. Everything was neat and in its place. This was set up so its owner could live out of the back with ease and a certain degree of comfort. This car was every camper’s dream.
And there was something else that drew a sharp line between this Hummer and the ones he’d been so intimately familiar with in Iraq. There was nothing here of the grunts he’d served with. No sweat. No taste of rifle oil and cordite in the air. No blood … There was only the softest hint of some sweet smell.
The other door opened and as Quinn slid in next to him he recognised the smell.
That soft, sweet scent was Quinn. Not some perfume that she wore … Quinn herself.
Dan felt the past recede.
‘So where to?’ she asked.
The route was circuitous. They had to circle around a deep gully and cross a dry riverbed. But eventually Dan directed Quinn to stop. Justin pulled up next to them and all four of them walked into a narrow gorge.
‘You’re the experts. What do you think? Will it do?’ Dan pushed his hat to the back of his head and looked at Carrie and Justin.
Without answering, the two of them began to walk. Just ahead a river had once cut through a high sandstone ridge. It was dry now. A sandy bed maybe fifteen meters wide, with a few scrubby plants growing there. The important part was the banks. The sandstone rose sharply to form what could only be described as cliffs. Cliffs far too steep for a horse to climb.
‘How far are we from the place where they come to drink?’ Justin asked.
‘Maybe two miles,’ Dan said. ‘It’s an easy two miles though. The horses wouldn’t have to come the way we did in the cars. There is a gully that leads directly here. I thought … well, hoped, that maybe you could herd the horses down that gully to this point.’
‘If we could build a couple of good fences – make a yard …’ Justin had caught Dan’s idea. ‘You say it’s a couple of miles directly from the billabong to here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s go take a look.’ Justin set off eagerly.
As the four of them set off down the gully, Dan suddenly realised they were walking as two couples. No. Not couples, he thought. Not like that. Justin and Carrie were their experts. They knew about horses so it was only sensible that they should be walking together, discussing the problems they faced.
As for him and Quinn … they certainly weren’t a couple. They weren’t even friends. Barely acquaintances, really. And when this was all over, she would move on. She wasn’t for the likes of him. A woman as beautiful as her could have any man she wanted. A man worthy of her …
He was suddenly aware that Quinn had stopped walking. He turned back to see her standing slightly off to one side, her camera to her eye. He followed the direction of the lens. Quinn was taking shots of Justin and Carrie walking down the centre of the dry riverbed in the shadow of the red rock walls that were growing ever higher and steeper on either side of them.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked as Quinn finished her shots and fell back into step beside him.
‘I just want to document this.’
‘Why? Trying to get me into trouble?’
‘No. Quite the reverse. I have a feeling something rather special is going to happen here. And there needs to be a record of it.’
Chapter Eleven
Carrie sat outside the pub, staring at the light streaming through the open doors. Even from inside her car she could hear the sound of voices. She was supposed to meet Justin here tonight. And Dan and Quinn too. They were going to work out a plan to rescue the brumbies. To rescue Justin’s heritage.
She so wanted to be a part of that.
She was so very afraid to be a part of that.
She wrapped her right arm protectively around her ribs, mentally bracing for the pain, but there was none. She had totally recovered from her fall at the Birdsville Races. Thanks to Dr Adam and his pilot, Jess. At her final appointment, Dr Adam had told her there was nothing to stop her riding again. Her collapsed lung was healed. She had her strength back. She was ready to ride.
But she wasn’t.
Dr Adam and Jess had been married a couple of weeks after that appointment, just as Carrie moved into Coorah Creek to work at the feed store. The wedding had distracted most of the town. No one, not even Dr Adam, had asked why she had taken that job rather than return to the racetrack, and for that she was grateful. By the time the wedding fuss was over, people had become used to her presence. She had never had to explain to anyone … just herself.
She’d seen the press photos of her fall. They were quite shocking. They showed a dark shape that was her own body flying through the air as her horse fell. Even now she shuddered when she thought of that newspaper clipping, long since torn up and thrown away.
Sitting there in her car, Carrie could hear voices floating out through the windows of the hotel. And laughter. The laughter was har
der to take than the pain. Carrie closed her eyes as she remembered.
She had been so very eager to get back to riding. The day after Dr Adam declared her fit she drove out to the stables at daybreak, looking forward to getting on with her life again. Horses she knew and had ridden before were waiting for their morning exercise. She parked her car in a familiar spot and got out, breathing deep the much-loved smells of horses and hay and listening to the voices of the stable boys as they went about their morning tasks. It felt so good to be back where she belonged.
She was welcomed with much enthusiasm by the trainer. She was his top jockey and she had been missed. Carrie Bryant won races. Having her as part of his team ensured he was offered the top young horses to train. She was money in the bank.
He signalled one of the stable boys to bring out his newest charge. The horse was beautiful. A golden chestnut filly, young and elegant, brimming with energy and power. Carrie watched her approach, waiting for that familiar lifting of her heart that always came at moments like this.
But it didn’t.
Instead her legs suddenly felt too weak to hold her. Her palms began to sweat and her hands to shake. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to draw breath, just as she had all those months ago lying in the sand at Birdsville.
The horse tossed its head and pranced a few steps, revelling in the cool crisp air and the promise of a chance to stretch her lovely long legs on the exercise track.
Carrie took a quick step backwards and almost stumbled.
The trainer had turned to her, his brow furrowed.
As the stable boy led the filly closer, Carrie’s crippling panic had begun to overwhelm her. She stumbled backwards, conscious of the shock on the trainer’s face. She heard something else too – the whispering of the stable boys. Then one of them had laughed. At her. Without saying a word, she had turned and fled, tears of shame pouring down her face.