by Janet Gover
He hadn’t heard her approach. At the sound of her voice, he broke open the rifle and removed the load. Then he lowered the weapon. Strange that his hands were not sweating or shaking now that the decision had been made.
He heard her footsteps approach and could almost feel the emotion flowing off her like waves. He didn’t want to face her.
‘I’m just getting my eye in,’ he said, not turning to look at her.
Quinn grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and look her in the face. Her emotions were written clearly in every line. Anger. Horror and shock. And they were all aimed at him.
‘Why?’ she asked, although he could tell she already knew the answer.
‘I’ve had another e-mail from the department. Wanting to know why I have not resolved this yet. They want to know why I’m delaying the cull.’
‘Can’t you tell them we’ve got a plan to remove them to a safe place?’
‘I did that a few days ago. They told me I had one chance to do that, and then they would take over. Now it appears time has run out. Just because some politician is facing re-election. They’re sending an inspector out here to make sure the job gets done.’
‘When?’
‘I’m not sure. They’re not impressed with the way I’ve handled this, so they probably won’t warn me. He’ll just turn up. He may already be on the way.’
‘And what happens when he gets here?’
‘If the brumbies are still here, he’ll take matters into his own hands.’
‘How?’
‘He’ll probably start shooting them himself. Or he’ll bring in another shooter. I won’t let that happen.’
‘None of us will,’ Quinn said firmly. ‘We’ll stop him.’
Dan wasn’t sure whether he admired her determination – or wept for her naivety. ‘You don’t get it,’ he said.
‘Then tell me.’ Her hazel eyes challenged him. She was so beautiful when she was all riled up like this. So alive. So passionate. How he wished he didn’t have to do what he had to do.
‘If the brumbies are still here, he’ll simply fire me and close the park for a few days. He has that power and if it’s the guy I think they are going to send, he won’t hesitate to use it. He’s ambitious and looking to make a name for himself. You will all have to leave. So will I. He’ll order me out with the rest of you.’
‘He can’t do that!’
‘Of course he can. His only concern will be clearing the park and culling the horses. He’ll probably try to be humane, but shooting a moving target is hard. If the wrong person tries …’
He looked at Quinn, but could tell she couldn’t understand. He had to be honest with her – brutally so.
‘I am a military trained sniper. If I take the shot, it will be clean and quick. If someone else does …’
‘No!’ She was shaking her head. She didn’t want to hear it, but she had to. He had to make her understand that he didn’t want to do this. But it was the best option.
‘The horses could be wounded rather than killed cleanly. If you had ever seen …’ His voice broke as the memories washed over him again.
A little girl’s dark eyes. Her face covered with blood. The smell of blood on the hot desert sand. Her screams as she died, slowly and in terrible pain. It wasn’t his bullet, but it was his fault.
Dan took a deep breath. His heart was pounding as if he had run a marathon. His whole body was damp with sweat. He recognised the symptoms but was powerless to control them. ‘If the best I can do is offer a quick end, that’s what I will do.’
‘No!’
Dan’s hands started to shake as he felt his emotions running wild. Anger. Fear. The need to run or strike out at anything – anyone – near to him. It had happened before, and the army doctors had told him it would happen again. That he needed medication to recover. He hated the doctors and their drugs. He would control this himself. And he had. Until that e-mail arrived and sent him right back into his nightmares.
Gunfire. The smell of cordite. Stone chips slashing bare flesh as hot metal chewed away the wall protecting them.
‘Withdraw. Get off the roof.’
A panicking voice shouting into a radio. ‘We’re taking heavy fire. We need cover. Get us out of here.’
Blood. So much blood.
And cutting through the gunfire, the sounds of a little girl’s screams.
‘Dan. Dan?’
A gentle sound. Quinn’s voice pulling him back from the past. Back from the edge. He opened his eyes and looked at her. It was like taking a drink of cool water after the burning heat of the desert sun.
‘What is it?’ she asked him gently. She touched his arm. The smallest of human touches but to him, it was like a lifeline. ‘What happened to you out there?’
He shook his head. He wanted to tell her. To share the burden that lay so heavily on him. But telling her wouldn’t help him. And she would never understand. No one did, if they hadn’t been there. Telling her would only drive a wedge between them. Whatever they had – friendship or something more – was too precious to let something as ugly as the past touch it.He bent to pick up the rifle that he hadn’t realised had fallen from his hand. As he checked again that it wasn’t loaded, he sensed his control returning.
‘I will not let those horses suffer,’ he said as he turned to walk back to the house.
‘None of us will.’ Quinn fell into step beside him.
She meant well. And God knew he appreciated her support, but they were talking about different outcomes. He knew it, even if she didn’t.
The uniform he wore now was different. But an order was an order. His military training had conditioned him to obey orders without question. But he hadn’t obeyed that day in Fallujah. And the suffering that followed – the terribly inhuman suffering and loss of life – had been his fault.
This time, although he knew the order to be wrong, he would obey. The others would hate him for it. Quinn would hate him. Shooting those horses would destroy him. But this time the only suffering would be his.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Hello, Finbarr.’
The chestnut gelding’s ears flicked toward her.
Carrie leaned on the wooden rail and looked at the horse. He was a nice looking saddle horse, but nothing spectacular. Yesterday he’d proved himself a sensible and reliable creature. Nothing like the highly strung thoroughbreds she’d once ridden. He had given Dan an easy first lesson and been co-operative and gentle with Ellen’s kids. He was a horse to trust.
‘Fraser horses always have Irish names,’ Carrie said to the gelding. ‘One of these days Justin is going to run out of ideas.’
The gelding sighed, a long deep sleepy sound, and began to move towards her. He stopped just a pace away and stretched out his nose to sniff the very tip of her fingers. Sensing nothing untoward, he moved a little closer to do the same to her face and hair.
‘You see, Finbarr, I have a bit of a problem,’ Carrie said, gripping the rail tightly with both hands as she fought the urge to move away. To step back just far enough that the horse couldn’t reach her. ‘I used to ride, you know. I was a jockey once. But I fell off. And now I’m too scared to get back on a horse. Even one as quiet and gentle as you.’
Finbarr lowered his head and blinked. His huge dark brown eyes regarded her seriously.
‘You have very long eyelashes, Finbarr. Has anyone ever told you that?’
The horse moved even closer, and began gently testing the ends of her fingers with his soft lips. The hair around his muzzle tickled her skin, and she smiled, despite herself.
It was very, very quiet. Quinn had left some time back, and Justin was still exercising the other stock horse.
‘I suppose you need to be exercised too, Finbarr.’
The horse nickered and nudged her arm. He was looking for attention.
‘Or are you just after a treat? Well, sorry to disappoint you boy, I haven’t got any treats for you. I used to carry something in my pocket most of the time. But these
last few months, I haven’t needed horse treats.’
That didn’t seem to deter him, and before she really knew what she was doing, Carrie was stroking the horse’s broad intelligent face. Oh, but it felt good. It reminded her just how much she had always loved horses. Her mother used to swear that the first word her daughter spoke wasn’t Mummy or Daddy – it was ‘pony’. Carrie had always loved everything about horses. The way they looked. The smell of them. Their insatiable curiosity and intelligence. There were times, she always maintained, when her horses knew what she was thinking. And feeling. Did Finbarr know how she was feeling right now?
She was afraid – but not the same paralysing fear she’d felt before. There was no one here to see her fail. Of course, that also meant there was no one to help her if she needed it. But failure was the greater fear.
Trying very hard not to think about what she was doing, Carrie reached for the bridle hanging on the gate post. She slipped through the gate and in one smooth practised motion; she slid the bridle over Finbarr’s head. The gelding didn’t object and he stood patiently while Carrie lifted his saddle from the rail; and placed it on his back. Her hands were shaking so much; she fumbled twice while trying to get the girth tight. But still the horse stood motionless.
At last he was ready. But was she?
Carrie looked around. She was still alone. It has to be now, she thought. If I don’t do this now, I won’t ever do it and I will regret it all my life.
Mustering every ounce of her courage, she passed the reins over Finbarr’s head. She placed her foot in the stirrup and entwined her fingers firmly in his mane. Before her courage could fail her, she swung herself into the saddle.
Nothing happened. The horse just stood there. The furious pounding of Carrie’s heart slowed just a fraction. The hands holding the reins were shaking a little. Her mind was in turmoil still, but her hands and her legs had not forgotten what she had learned as a child and loved ever since. Her body seemed to remember how to seat itself properly in the curved leather of the saddle. Her legs automatically closed around the horse’s side.
She had done it! She was back in the saddle.
A part of her wanted to shout and cheer. But she fought that urge. She still had a long, long way to go before she could claim any sort of victory.
She gave Finbarr the gentlest nudge with her heels. He stepped forward. A surge of pure panic almost undid her. She wanted to fling herself off the horse … but was equally terrified of falling.
Finbarr just continued to walk. He knew what to do, even without instructions from his rider. As he approached the fence he turned to circle the yard at a steady walk.
Carrie let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding. Instinctively her body flowed into the movement of the horse beneath her. She didn’t have to think about it. In fact, it was better if she didn’t. If she started to think – or to remember the last time she sat on a horse – the memories of her fall would cripple her.
Finbarr’s ears flicked back and forth. He was getting bored and waiting for an instruction to trot. That should come next. When Carrie didn’t move, Finbarr tossed his head and broke into a slow steady trot. Carrie gasped out loud. She lifted her hands and jerked back savagely on the reins. Finbarr slid to a stop, shaking his head at the unaccustomed harshness of her hands on the reins.
‘Sorry, Finbarr,’ Carrie said. ‘I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready. Not for that. Please have patience with me.’ She stroked the horse’s neck, and then gave him the smallest nudge with her heels. He started walking again.
It was nothing compared to what she had once done, but this quiet walk on a placid gelding was more than she had ever hoped she would do again.
Tears pricked her eyes and she turned Finbarr to walk in the other direction. He responded like the gentleman he was. Carrie’s heart sang. Then Finbarr lifted his head and whinnied. Carrie only just managed to stop herself from grabbing the saddle for unnecessary extra security. She looked up and saw Justin riding towards her on his big gelding.
No! She didn’t want him to see her like this. He remembered her as she once was, balanced on the back of a racing thoroughbred. A talented jockey – fast and fearless. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face when he looked at what she had become.
She quickly slid from Finbarr’s back, and buried her face in his mane so she didn’t have to see the pity in Justin’s eyes.
Justin had to almost bite his tongue to keep from cheering She’d done it!
When he’d ridden out this morning, leaving Carrie and Finbarr behind, he had hoped beyond hope that she might take a small step towards finding herself again. She had done so well with the horse yesterday – with Dan and with Ellen’s kids. But that had been from the ground. Actually getting back into the saddle was a huge step for Carrie. It had taken such courage. And she had done it. All by herself!
He felt proud of her – for her. This was the Carrie Bryant who had captured his heart that day at the races. And now she was doing it again.
He pushed his grey up to the fence and slid from the saddle. Tossing the reins over a post, he opened the gate and walked towards Carrie who still had her arms wrapped around Finbarr’s neck. He couldn’t see her face, but imagined she must be overjoyed. His steps faltered when he saw her shoulders heave and realised she was sobbing.
‘Carrie?’
She didn’t look up. She just shook her head.
He stepped to her side and gently turned her away from the horse. Her lovely face was streaked with tears, her eyes shining with them.
‘Carrie, there’s nothing to cry about.’ He lifted his hand to gently wipe away the tears. ‘You did it. That’s wonderful.’
‘No. No, it’s not.’ Her shoulders heaved. ‘I could barely walk twice around the yard without panicking. It was pitiful. I was pitiful.’
‘Don’t say that.’ Justin unconsciously pushed her hair away from her face. ‘You were amazing. You took that first step back. And all alone. I am so proud of you!’
‘But I was terrified,’ she said in an unsteady voice.
‘And that is the definition of courage – to do that thing which frightens you the most. Carrie, you should be proud of yourself.’
‘Really?’ As she looked up at him, the hope in her eyes almost broke his heart.
‘Yes. Really.’
‘But I …’
‘Just give yourself time. I’ll help you. Together we can take all the time you need. You’ll find yourself again, Carrie. I know you will.’
She held his eyes for a long, long moment, as if to convince herself of his sincerity. Then she raised herself onto her toes and reached up to kiss his cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
The touch of her lips on his skin was as soft as a butterfly’s wing. It made him feel ten feet tall.
‘Let’s get this pair unsaddled,’ he said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Then I could murder a coffee. After which, I want to walk along the gully and look for places where we might lose the herd if they bolt.’
‘Could you use some company?’
‘I was counting on it.’
Carrie turned immediately to tend to Finbarr. There was not so much as a hint of uncertainty as she unsaddled the gelding. Finbarr lowered his head, tilting it so she could rub the tender spot behind his ear. Carrie laughed softly as she complied. Justin vowed at that moment that Finbarr would never be sold. The horse would have a good home at the Fraser Stud for as long as he lived.
The water was just starting to boil on the gas stove when they heard the sound of approaching engines. Dan’s Land Rover and Quinn’s Humvee pulled up and the two of them emerged. Justin took one look at their faces and new something was up. He glanced down at Carrie, whose hands had paused in the act of making the coffee.
‘What is it?’ Justin asked.
Quinn dropped into a camp chair, leaving Dan to tell them about the e-mail notification. As he spoke, Justin’s heart sank. He had promised C
arrie all the time in the world. Now it looked like he was going to have to break that promise.
‘How long?’ he asked Dan.
The ranger shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. A couple of days maybe.’
‘Then we muster that herd tomorrow,’ Justin said. ‘We’ll only have one chance, and we’d better get it right.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘We’re not ready,’ Dan said. ‘At least, I’m not. I won’t be any use to you on horseback. I’ve only done it once before. There’s no way I can actually muster anything.’
Justin was inclined to agree with him. Dan was a good man to have on your side. He worked hard. He was strong and resourceful. But he wasn’t a horseman. One day, perhaps, but not yet. Not by a long shot. It had never been his plan that Dan should ride with him. He’d hoped Carrie might be ready. But it was too soon for her. Too soon for all of them.
‘Maybe we can get some more help,’ Quinn suggested. ‘Get some people from Coorah Creek.’
She was right. They could call in outside help. There were some stockmen who could probably get here by tomorrow. Justin frowned. He didn’t feel comfortable with that idea. He hadn’t told anyone about the stallion. About Mariah’s son. He wanted to make a bit of a splash after he had the horse safely back home. To get some publicity that would help re-launch the Fraser Stud. What if word got out that the horse was there and they failed in this attempt? He would look like a fool. Even worse, there was always the risk that someone else would go after the horse, and there would be nothing Justin could do to stop that happening. Justin looked at the faces around him. They were strangers who had become friends and were there to help him. And Carrie … especially Carrie. This was their project. He didn’t want outsiders here.
Justin shook his head. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If there are too many people about and too much activity, the brumbies will just vanish. They’ll find water somewhere else in the park and we’ll never find them. Anyway, if we have to do this tomorrow, there’s not really enough time to find people and horses and get them here. We’ll have to do it on our own.’