by Janet Gover
‘This isn’t one of the brumbies,’ Dan said. ‘It’s a stock horse. We are just getting ready to muster the brumbies. Once we’ve got them in that yard, we can remove them from the park, as per instructions.’
The tightening of the man’s mouth indicated this wasn’t how he saw things. ‘Can you hand that horse to someone and come with me, Mitchell? You have some explaining to do.’
Dan was very aware of the other three standing not far away, watching the conversation. He turned to hand the horse’s reins back to Carrie, shaking his head slightly to deter them from stepping in. He didn’t want them in the angry inspector’s firing line.
He followed the man a short distance down the gully.
‘Would you mind telling me just what’s going on here? You were ordered to get rid of the horses – instead it seems you have brought more of them into the park.’
‘We need the stock horses to capture the brumbies,’ Dan explained, knowing as he did the man was not really listening. ‘We are going to pen the brumbies this evening. Justin Fraser, who is helping with all this, is going to take the horses back to his property. Then the park will be free of them.’
‘You were instructed to shoot those brumbies weeks ago. Why didn’t you?’
‘I decided it would be better to save them.’ Dan looked the man squarely in the eye.
‘It wasn’t your decision to make.’
Dan shook his head. He had a terrible feeling of déjà vu. But this time, things were going to be different.
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘It was the right decision.’
‘And it’s going to make a great story.’ Quinn stepped to his side, her camera in her hand. ‘One way or another.’ She raised the camera and took a couple of quick shots of the stupefied inspector.
‘Who … what?’
‘I’m Quinn,’ she said. ‘I’m a photo journalist. I’m telling the story of these brumbies. It’s your choice as to the type of story it is. It could praise your department and your minister for finding a humane solution to the problem. Or it could say something very different.’
Dan felt invincible with her beside him. With her support he could do what he knew to be right.
Lawson scowled, obviously very unhappy. But bureaucrat that he was, he was obviously all too aware of the power of good – or bad publicity. He glared at the two of them, muttered a few words under his breath, and finally spoke out loud.
‘All right. You’ve got twenty-four hours. I’ll be back here tomorrow, and if those brumbies are still in the park, I’ll find someone who is willing to take action. Do I make myself clear?’ He turned and stormed back towards his car.
‘We only need twenty-four hours,’ Justin said as he and Carrie stepped closer. ‘We can do this.’
‘We’d better,’ Dan said. ‘Because there is no way I’m going to allow him or anyone else to shoot those horses!’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Justin shuffled his feet in the dirt. He was bored with waiting. It felt as if he had spent hours hidden among the boulders and scrubby trees above the gorge. He was so tense he was sure he was about to snap. The next hour would decide his future. He could see that future so clearly, it was as if it was already real. And he wanted it more than he could ever say.
He saw the brumby stallion, Finnegan’s last, lost colt taking pride of place among the Fraser horses. He saw the stallion hard on the heels of a steer in a working horse competition, or winning ribbons at a breed show. He saw the foals gambolling in his paddocks. Foals with that same crooked white blaze down their face. He saw young horses with the Fraser brand blazing a trail across the competitions and racetracks. And in all these visions, Carrie was at his side.
Carrie.
Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, his thoughts always seemed to come back to Carrie. Not even something as important as recapturing the horse that was his father’s legacy was enough to keep his thoughts away from her.
He wanted this venture to succeed – but if it had to fail, he would still consider himself well served – because it had brought him to Carrie.
He shook his head as he thought about her. The images flashing through his mind were so wildly different. There was Carrie mounted on a racing thoroughbred, crossing the winning line with one hand held high in victory. Carrie kissing the nose of a sweating horse, giving the animal more attention than the cheering crowds around her. The newspaper had carried a photograph of her terrible fall at Birdsville. To anyone who had ever ridden a horse, that photograph was shocking – a horse crashing to the ground as a small human form was tossed through the air like some broken and discarded doll. He had torn it up and thrown it away immediately, unable to contemplate such a terrible thing happening to a woman he admired so much – even if it was from afar. Far more shocking than that photo was the reality of her flinching away from his horses in fear. But the memory of her beautiful face, shining as she took those first tentative steps on Finbarr’s back, could balance even the worst images.
She had found herself again. Found her way back from whatever dark and lonely place she’d been since that fall. He liked to think that maybe he’d helped her. If he had fallen a little in love with her the day he saw her triumph as a jockey, he had fallen even further now that he had watched her triumph as a person.
Justin desperately hoped that he wasn’t asking too much of her today – to take such a vital role in the muster. Not that he was really asking it of her. She was asking it of herself. And that was what was so incredible about it. About her.
Justin removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.
His horse, sensing his restlessness, moved uncertainly. It raised its head and its nostrils flared. Justin quickly ran his hand down the horse’s nose, leaving his palm lying gently across the animal’s nostrils. The last thing he wanted was the horse to whinny, or nicker and give away their hiding position.
His thoughts turned again to the wild stallion. In his head, he was already planning the steps he’d have to take to get the horse accepted into the stud book. His father had been part of one of the earliest equine blood typing programmes conducted by the University of Queensland. All the Fraser horses were blood typed. From those records, he should be able to prove the stallion’s parentage. But even then, it wouldn’t be easy. He couldn’t recall another instance where an adult animal had been accepted under circumstances such as this. But he would try. If the people in charge of such things could only see the horse, they would know. Just as Carrie had known. Just as he knew.
His train of thought was interrupted by movement in the distance. Keeping his hand on his horse’s nose, Justin watched as the brumbies appeared. They filed through the gap in the rocks on their way to water. They were a fine bunch. He would bet money that some of the mares were also runaways. Perhaps they had also escaped in the same bushfires that had caused Mariah to be lost. Several of the yearlings had the same distinctive while blaze as the stallion. Watching them pass, Justin thought that even if they were never accepted into the stud book, they could none the less develop into good sturdy work horses. He would train them and …
The stallion appeared. Just a few meters behind his mares, he was keeping a watchful eye as he followed them down to the billabong to drink. He really was magnificent. His mane was matted and dusty. His hooves unshod and rough-edged. But even unkempt and ungroomed, he was stunning and Justin was even more convinced that this really was Mariah’s son and his future.
Justin remained frozen in his hiding place as the stallion walked through the gap and into the gorge and disappeared. He waited a few moments, then led his horse out from among the rocks. He fixed his hat more firmly on his head and took a steadying breath. He gathered the reins and swung into the saddle. As he settled himself firmly into the leather, he stroked the stock horse’s neck.
‘You had better be ready,’ he said. ‘We will only get one shot at this.’ He was speaking to himself, as much as he was to the horse. And he was thinking
of Carrie too. And Dan and Quinn. He hoped they were all ready. Because it was time.
He urged his horse a few steps forward, then halted just below the crest of the rise. From here, a few strides would see him breach the gap down to the gorge, effectively blocking the brumbies’ retreat. But he didn’t want to move just yet. He didn’t want the horses to see him too soon. First he had to wait for Dan’s signal.
Dan’s fingertips touched the cold steel of the rifle where it lay on the ground beside him. From his place among the rocks he could see the wild horses approaching. They looked calm, and not unusually nervous, which he guessed was a good thing … but that calm was about to be shattered.
He had a good vantage point. This was the same place where he had last lifted the rifle to sight along the hard grey barrel at the brumbies. That time his goal was death … and he had failed. Partly due to Quinn’s interference. He would be eternally grateful to her for that. This time he had no intention of hurting the animals, but it made no difference as he lifted the rifle. His heart began to hammer.
This was how it always began. The racing heart, followed by the sweat on his face and the palms of his hands. Then the voices in his head would begin and he would see a little girl’s face.
He waited; eyes fixed on the horses as they waded into the billabong and began drinking.
His palms remained dry. The voices in his head were quiet. He closed his eyes, and saw nothing but darkness. And when he opened them again, he saw the landscape. He saw the horses. He did not see the little girl. He did not hear her screams.
The absence was as shocking as it was welcome. And he knew who he should thank for that.
Quinn.
Dan thought about the day he found that book that had brought him here. The day he had first learned her name. It has been such a dark time in his life when he had felt as disconnected from the people around him as if he had been on another planet. During his time here at Tyangi, he’d returned to that book often. Looking at the photographs and thinking about the unknown photographer. He’d never imagined Quinn was a woman; a beautiful woman, with a quick-fire mind and a heart to match. And he had certainly never imagined they would ever meet. It was nothing short of a miracle that Quinn had walked into his life, had become a part of it. She had become his friend and so much more. She had given him the gift of her body and her heart, and in doing so had healed some of his deepest wounds.
He wondered if the little girl with the brown eyes would ever come back, and realised that if she did, it would never be as bad as it had been in the past.
A squeal from the direction of the billabong dragged Dan’s attention back to reality. He had a job to do and it was time he did it.
The brumbies were milling about, having drunk their fill of water. This was the moment Justin had told him to watch for. The stallion was in the middle of the mob, drinking and not on watch. Dan rose from his hiding place and stepped into full view. He could just shout and wave his arms. That would be enough to spook the horses. Instead, he raised his rifle. The shot would be a signal to the others that it had begun. He pointed the rifle at the sky and pulled the trigger.
The harsh crack of the shot bounced off the walls of the gorge. In a heartbeat the horses were moving. The stallion forced his way to the front of the herd, whipping his band to faster speeds with his teeth. As one, they turned back up the path they had come down, heading to the gap in the wall and escape into the wide open plain. Dan looked up at the gap in the rocks. There was no sign of Justin.
‘Damn it!’ Dan cursed as he watched the brumbies leaping upwards towards the gap and freedom. Had he moved too soon? A few more seconds and the stallion would reach the top of the rise and the mob would escape.
Justin appeared. His stock horse was quivering with excitement, but Justin held it in check with a firm hand and strong legs. He raised his arm above his head and the crack of his stock whip rang out as loud as any gunshot.
The stallion faltered in his mad rush as he saw the movement ahead. Then he tossed his head and darted forward, meaning to dash between Justin and the rock wall.
As Dan watched, Justin pushed his horse forward. It leaped into the gap, sliding onto its haunches on the loose surface. The brumbies slid to a halt, eyes white and wild, milling about. Justin urged his horse forward. It came leaping down the steep path, small rocks flying from its every stride. The stock whip lashed back and forth, making the gorge ring with its harsh voice.
The brumbies turned.
Dan strode down towards the billabong. He raised the rifle again and fired a second shot.
That was too much for the stallion. He spun and began to race down the gorge. The herd followed, streaming out behind him. Then Justin was on their tail, driving them forward at a run. Driving them in the direction he wanted them to go … along the gorge to where Carrie and Quinn waited.
Dan turned and began to run back toward the car he’d left hidden among the trees.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carrie froze when she heard the shot. She stared down the gorge. She was about two kilometres from the billabong with a clear view along the gorge. If the brumbies were coming her way, she didn’t have much time. She turned to the horse at her side. Finbarr was alert, staring in the direction of the gunshot. Carrie felt her courage fail her. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t do this. She was no longer that woman who could ride like she was born to it. Who could guide a horse with feet and hands and voice, bending it to her will and creating that magic partnership where two became as one. That woman had vanished under the slashing hooves of the horse that day she fell.
Beside her, Finbarr shuffled nervously and snorted. Her hands clenched the reins until she could feel her own nails biting into her palms.
Justin was relying on her. Justin who had been so kind and understanding. Justin who made her heart beat a little bit faster every time he was near her. Justin looked at her as if she was someone special; as if she was still that woman she had once been. She would never forget the look on his face when she’d offered to ride Finbarr today. The look of joy and pride. A look of admiration.
How could she fail him? How could she not?
A second shot echoed through the gorge. He eyes widened. She hadn’t expected a second shot. What was happening? Justin was going to need someone on this flank. He was going to need her. It was time to live up to the promise she had made. Trying to ignore the terrible fear threatening to swamp her, she thought of Justin and reached for the saddle. She slipped her foot into the metal stirrup and swung herself onto Finbarr’s back. Feeling her tension, the excited horse sidled away, and her foot slipped out of the stirrup back to the ground. She stepped closer to the horse, but his growing excitement had Finbarr dancing away from her. Her hands were shaking too much to hold him. He would sense her fear and that would only make it harder for her to control him. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes.
She heard a noise, like a low rumble of thunder. Finbarr spun around to stare back up the gorge. The horses burst into sight.
The stallion was in the lead, his neck stretched out, nostrils flaring as he gasped for breath. He’d been running hard, and his sides were dark with sweat. The other brumbies were strung out behind him. The mares and foals were struggling to keep up the punishing speed their leader set.
Behind them, she could see a distant figure of a man on horseback. Justin. He was pushing them, but not too hard. He needed them to keep moving, without time to think. But at the same time, he didn’t want them to stampede in a blind panic.
Finbarr began to prance beneath her restraining hand. He could see and hear and smell the wild horses. He wanted to run, too. It was all she could do to restrain him. She should be on his back now, and every second she waited, he grew harder and harder to control. A sob escaped her. She couldn’t do this.
In the distance, Justin swung his stock whip once again. His big bay horse increased its speed and stumbled in the rough going.
It happened in
slow motion. Carrie stopped breathing as the big bay stock horse fell to his knees and rolled over in dry creek-bed. Justin was flung from the saddle and rolled onto the sand right next to the thrashing feet of his horse.
‘No!’ The cry escaped from the deepest part of Carrie’s soul. Without thinking, she turned and flung herself onto Finbarr’s back. She gathered the reins and dug her heels into his sides, urging him into a gallop.
The stock horse lunged down the embankment, almost unseating her. Her heart clenched with fear, but instinct and years of training took over. She gripped more tightly with her knees and leaned forward, thinking of nothing but her need to get to Justin. She lost sight of where he lay as Finbarr began a strong, sure-footed race down the side of the gully.
A few seconds later, Finbarr flung his head high in the air and slid to a stop. Horses had appeared at the mouth of the gully. The brumbies were turning away from the main gorge, seeking escape. This was what Justin had feared. This was why Carrie was there.
Torn between the desire to do her job and the overwhelming need to get to where Justin lay, Carrie grabbed the stock whip that was hanging from the front of her saddle. Taking the reins in one hand, she shook the whip free and swung it.
The resulting crack echoed off the red rocks and brought the brumbies to a ragged halt. As the mares milled about uncertain of what to do next, the stallion pushed his way to the front. Carrie swung the whip again. And again. She was terribly afraid the stallion would decide to push past her, and she’d be powerless to stop him. She swung the whip one more time.
The mares broke, turning away from Carrie and back into the gorge. After a moment’s hesitation, the stallion squealed and followed them. Moving faster than the rest he fought his way through the mob to take the lead. He stretched into a gallop, showing no sign of the exhaustion that was evident in the other horses. Behind him, the mares raced on, but those with young foals at foot were starting to falter. The yearlings too were showing signs of exhaustion.