Deborah was constantly asking him to make decisions about this or that for the wedding but he couldn’t focus.
Heath walked away from the house towards the horses. The little dog followed him, wagging its fluffy tail.
What was he doing here? He needed something, someone solid. Deb had been his best friend since the accident. Heath felt safe with her. Now they were to be partners for life. It all fitted, somehow. It fitted in with his dream of stepping into his father’s place at Kurrabar. For that he needed a wife, someone like his mum, someone he could depend on. And that was Deb.
And there was no reason why it wouldn’t work out. They would go ahead and live the dreams they’d talked about for so long. If he could just get on board, get back to where he was before Nina had returned.
The screen door banged. She was properly dressed in jeans and a checked shirt, thank god, but he could see by her smile that she was nervous. As she came closer, he thought, very nervous.
‘Don’t be fooled by the name. Rapid’s quiet, she won’t give you any trouble,’ he said. ‘Jet’s a one-rider-horse, ex-racehorse. He’s best left to me. But Rapid’ll be fine.’ Why was he babbling?
Nina nodded. She looked at the golden palomino but made no move towards her.
Heath took pity. ‘Is that coffee I smell? Should we have a cup before we go?’
‘Thanks! I mean, good idea.’
Heath followed her into the house. He couldn’t help but be impressed. The transformation he’d noticed on the verandah was even more obvious in the kitchen. ‘You’ve been hard at work.’
‘Moira’s been here a lot.’ She handed him a cup.
Heath leaned against the kitchen bench and smoothed his hand over the scrubbed wooden surface. Sunlight fell onto a vase of magnolia flowers in the centre of a table surrounded by mismatched painted chairs. For some reason, he thought of the kitchen at Paramour that Hilary was so proud of – acres of white stone, white tiles and sparkling fittings. There was nowhere to sit in Hilary’s kitchen except balancing on those uncomfortable designer stools.
This was comfortable, too comfortable. Heath tossed back his coffee, wincing from the strong brew. ‘We’d better get going.’
This time, Nina walked slowly down the verandah steps and held out her hand for Rapid to sniff. The mare turned her head and took a step forward. Nina flinched, but stood her ground while the horse smelled her, and then put her hand forward again and stroked Rapid’s neck with a feather touch. She rubbed the area around the horse’s ears where the bridle sat. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been on a horse. Do you remember? You put me on Hector a couple of times, that Shetland pony you and Ben had grown out of. I remember Hector had a bit of a temper,’ she laughed.
‘Well, it’s just like riding a bike,’ said Heath. ‘Up you hop.’ He led her round to the far side of the horse. ‘The other foot.’
Heath made his hands into a step for Nina’s left boot, so that she could swing her leg over the horse. That perfume again.
‘She’s smart,’ he said, the words tumbling out. ‘You don’t have to kick her or pull on her reins. Just move with her, trust her.’
Nina looked blank. ‘She’ll follow Jet.’ Heath mounted and Jet ambled off. Rapid followed, Bach at her heels. Princess ran on ahead. ‘Just squeeze with your legs, like this.’
‘At least I don’t have to worry about all that paraphernalia you have on,’ she said, glancing at his water canteen, rope and rifle that he had slung from his saddlebag.
‘This? I travel lightly,’ he said. He felt the beginnings of a smile. Then he remembered they had ‘work’ to do and nudged Jet with his knees. The horse broke into a trot and Rapid followed him. Heath glanced back at Nina. Her face was white and her hands were gripping the saddle. He pulled on the reins.
‘Okay. Let’s slow down a bit.’
They walked for a couple of hours along the fence line, chatting occasionally. Bach and Princess weaved from one property to the other under the fence, following the fugitive scents of the grasslands. As they rode, Nina seemed to gain confidence and, by the time they got to the back paddock gate, she appeared more relaxed. Once through, Rapid broke into a trot again and Heath watched as Nina mastered the rising trot this time, her long legs in blue jeans skimming Rapid’s saddle.
He smiled, despite himself. ‘See, you’re a natural.’
Her face lit up with pleasure and he felt a warm shot through his chest. This was dangerous. If only he had brought the quad bikes. What a bloody idiot he was. Having gone this far they’d have to water the horses at the creek before they went back.
‘Fence looks good,’ said Heath.
Nina nodded.
‘We need to water the horses.’ He led them through a gate onto Kurrabar. Eventually, they approached the line of huge river gums they’d seen in the distance and stopped at the edge of a scooped riverbed with coffee-coloured water, flowing slowly. The gum leaves hung still. The noon sun was reflected on the water. The only sound was the chirrup of a frog and the dogs slaking their thirst. They led the horses down a steep path to the creek.
‘Lucky we had some rain up-river a few weeks ago. Fresh water.’ Heath dismounted and came to help Nina down. She hesitated but then gave herself into his hands.
On land, she had some trouble finding her balance, and he had to support her. Desire shot through him, closely followed by guilt. ‘Here, hold the reins loosely so they can drink.’ He turned his face away and busied himself by untying his water bottle from Jet’s saddle. This whole ride was a mistake. He offered the water bottle to her. As she drank, he saw a drop of water make a rivulet through the dust on her perfect neck.
New plan – keep the hell away from Nina at all times. Just as well she was leaving tomorrow.
Heath took the bottle without looking at her, and turned his back to drink. When he’d finished, they gazed down the creek in silence. A breeze danced around them, and they heard the bleating of wild goats somewhere up the riverbed. Heath felt Nina’s eyes on him. He tried to maintain his composure.
‘You want to do something about those goats, sell them to a contractor. It’s good money. You don’t want them eating everything.’
Nina made no reply. Heath felt like a dumb country boy, talking about goats, but it was the only strategy he knew. Stick to the facts.
‘Not that goats are a complete menace,’ he went on. ‘Good in their place. If you’ve got woody weeds, for instance, the goats will eat them, where nothing else will. Then they can be some use. As part of an overall strategy.’ Heath wanted to kick himself. But even more, he wanted to punish Nina, for making him feel this way. This is what farming is, he thought savagely, boring facts and strategies, nothing city girls were interested in.
‘That’s what we did on Kurrabar a few years back,’ he said. ‘Grazed feral goats in paddocks where the woody weeds had taken over.’
‘Is that holistic management?’ said Nina.
Surprised, Heath looked at her.
‘Ben mentioned it,’ she said.
With an effort Heath tore his gaze away from Nina to Rapid and Jet drinking. Their stances were identical, like cutouts of horses.
‘Is Deborah into it as well?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Holistic management,’ she said.
Why did she have to bring up Deborah? He walked quickly to the water and taking his reins from Nina, wrenched Jet’s head up. Without another word, he mounted, leaving Nina to scramble onto Rapid as best she could. Jet picked his way up the bank to the track, an alert Princess at his heels. Rapid followed obediently. Heath looked over his shoulder. The little white dog lagged behind, sniffing as busily as ever. Pet dogs – what was the point of them, he thought.
He wished he had never agreed to this outing with Nina. Whatever he thought he was doing, he had failed.
‘Keep up, Bach,’ Nina called. Ahead of her, Jet strained his head forward and walked quickly, eager for home. Bach stopped to shake, water droplets da
ncing in the sunlight. Tongue lolling, he bounded after them like a prancing lamb, trying to distract Princess into play.
As the track turned at the corner of the paddock, Nina looked back at the idyllic scene they’d just left. The tall river gums and flowering bushes reminded her of a different part of the country, something closer to Sydney.
But ahead of her, Heath’s back, tense and tall, receded along the road home. Forget him, she thought, leave him to his bad mood, whatever it was. She turned Rapid’s head and nudged him gently.
The raucous screeching of a flock of cockatoos heading for the river and the muffled percussion of the horses’ hooves were the only sounds as Nina settled into the rocking rhythm of Rapid’s gait. Once you surrendered to it, it was the most natural thing in the world.
She turned to check that Bach was keeping up. Princess followed Heath, but there was no sign of Bach. Nina eased back on the reins, bringing Rapid to a halt.
‘Bach … Bach, where are you, boy?’
On the plain there were few places for a dog to hide.
‘Come on, Bach. Here, boy,’ Nina called more loudly.
Heath turned Jet around and trotted back to Nina. ‘He can’t be far away,’ he said, exasperated. ‘Come on, we’ll go back.’
They trotted in single file the way they’d come.
Then Nina heard Bach growl a warning. He stood among the long grass, at bay against an unseen enemy, barking rapid-fire. Heath was off Jet’s back and running in a single move. Nina scrambled off Rapid and followed, but Heath held out his arm to bar her way. He pointed, and then she saw the thick sinuous brown coil – too close to the little dog. Something lithe and powerful moved with cold-blooded energy.
‘Bach!’ she called in anguish. But in that moment, the thing jabbed forward and Bach yelped. Another flash of metallic brown and he yelped again. Nina shoved Heath aside, but he spun around and grabbed her arms tightly. She struggled to fight him off, and as the snake slid away, he released her.
Bach staggered and hunched over, his back legs useless. Nina knelt and held his sides as he vomited over and over again.
‘Heath!’ Nina cried, panicked. ‘What can we do?’ Bach made an effort to nose Nina’s hand. She gathered him into her arms, holding him close. He trembled and cried with a terrible sound she’d never heard before. Nina rocked him but the noise continued. ‘Shh, boy. It’s okay, boy. It’ll be okay,’ she said over and over again. Bach shuddered and then the cries intensified, a high-pitched sound that was agony to Nina’s ears.
‘Heath, make him stop!’ she sobbed.
Princess sniffed Bach and whined but the little dog keened unceasingly.
Nina felt Heath’s hand on her shoulder. ‘What can we do? Listen to him, we have to do something,’ she pleaded.
Heath knelt and pulled back Bach’s eyelid, and Nina saw the blackness there, like a dark sky at night. Her heart sank.
‘It’s not good,’ Heath said. ‘He’s so small he doesn’t stand a chance.’
Nina took a breath. ‘He’s in agony. There must be a way. We have to get a vet. Get some … antivenom.’
Just then Bach’s noise picked up. He struggled in her arms, frothing, drowning.
She searched Heath’s face and found no room for doubt or argument.
‘There’s no time,’ he said. ‘He’s taken a huge load of poison. Brown snake. He’s still bleeding. Here and here.’ He pointed. ‘He’ll die long before we can get help. It’s not fair on him.’
‘No!’ sobbed Nina. ‘No, no, no.’
Heath squeezed her shoulder and walked swiftly to Jet to unstrap the rifle. He loaded the gun efficiently.
In vain, Nina tried to catch Heath’s eye. Surely he wouldn’t, couldn’t?
At the sound of the bolt snapping shut, Nina cradled Bach more closely still and turned, shielding him from the gun. She could see that Bach’s eyes were already far away but he was still making that terrible noise.
Heath laid the rifle on the ground and took Bach from Nina’s arms. She let out a cry but couldn’t look away.
Heath laid Bach gently in the long grass and came back to help Nina to her feet. She looked at him, bewildered, still hoping against hope.
He pulled her to where the horses stood. ‘Here. Hold them.’ Jet and Rapid stamped and tossed their heads.
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
‘Do you hear what I’m saying? Hold these. They’ll startle,’ he said harshly, pressing the reins into her lifeless hands and closing them tightly with his own. Nina felt faint with the dread mounting inside her.
She watched as Heath walked back and pointed the rifle into the long grass where Bach’s tiny head must be. Nina closed her eyes and hid her face in Rapid’s solid, warm neck.
Nina felt the shot in her body as the horses startled and the reins whipped through her hands. She clawed them back and gentled the horses, but she felt light, insubstantial, as if she didn’t exist.
Heath came to his saddlebag and took out a waterproof jacket. He didn’t look at Nina. She watched as he spread the jacket in the long grass and laid the limp fluffy thing inside, wrapping him and tying the sleeves firmly around his small body. Princess sniffed the parcel and then sat, letting out a full-throated howl. Nina stood still, suspended in the silence that followed that gunshot.
Heath took the reins from her grasp and glanced at her. He cupped his hands to give her a leg-up onto Rapid.
But as she took his shoulder to get up, her legs crumpled. He caught her, but she didn’t want him to touch her. They separated, not looking at one another.
Nina mounted Rapid by herself, though her arms were weak. Nothing seemed real anymore. Heath brought the little bundle over and put it into Nina’s arms. Keeping hold of Rapid’s reins, he mounted Jet and gently kicked him to begin the long journey home.
It was dark by the time Nina roused herself from the rocking chair on the verandah. Russell’s last flask of whisky was nearly empty. Leaning against the verandah post, she gazed out into the night.
On other nights, the millions of stars had moved her to awe. But tonight they looked cold and indifferent.
The moon cast a beautiful illumination over the home paddock and the ruins of Durham House beyond. Nina could just make out the fresh mound of soil near the rose garden where Heath had buried Bach. He’d placed a marker at the head of the grave and, with few words, had taken his departure. Nina had watched numbly.
It was strange. This thing that had happened had cut her off from her last connection to The Springs, to this country. It was time to go home, where she belonged.
She poured herself a final shot, tossed it back, and went to bed.
Nina heaved the last of the thick black rubbish bags into Matty’s trailer and wished she could throw her hangover in as well. Her phone beeped, an old text from Theo – Missin u. It had only come through, like all the others, when she accidentally hit one of the unpredictable sweet spots near the house.
She replied :) then walked back, trying not to see the chewed plastic bone under the pomegranate tree. In the kitchen she saw Bach’s battered water bowl under the table and his bed on the floor. Moving them seemed too final, too soon. She sat down on one of the newly painted kitchen chairs, nursing a glass of water for her thumping head.
The kitchen she had been so thrilled with, the big scrubbed table, the wide benches, now seemed tired and worn. Even the cabinets looked shabby. Every time she did anything it just seemed to show up what else needed attention. There was still so much to be done. Like the ceiling fan, she thought, staring up at it. It didn’t work and the kitchen was stifling hot. And the whole place needed painting.
Nina felt overwhelmed, tired, trapped. She moved out to the verandah through the silent house. She laughed out loud and sank down on the front step. How stupid. It would never be finished, at least not by her. Work like this needed energy and purpose and now she had neither.
She sighed as she thought of all the work she, Moira and Matty had d
one. There was no denying there were many great people out here. So helpful and sympathetic, but they really did not get her. They did not know the sting of not belonging. How could they? They all had each other and who was she? She was a guest who had been given a glimpse of what such a life might be like. The Blacketts, the Inchboards; those solid, viable families.
She did not belong. She was in this landscape but not of it.
Nina looked across at the silhouette of the magnolia tree, a silent witness to so much of her life and Jim’s. Despite her efforts she had found out precious little about her father or his life out here. If anything, she was leaving with even more questions. She was beginning to think he might be dead, and if he was still alive he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let her know about it. That might hurt even more. Her mother, her uncle, even her birth mother, were also gone. And now, her best little mate had been taken from her in an instant.
She walked inside and collected her father’s paintings. She balanced a sketch of Bach on top of the large Durham House canvas and walked carefully out to the car, placing them on the back seat and wrapping her picnic rug around them. She went inside one last time and gathered her packed suitcase, an envelope of money for Moira, her camera and her handbag.
Nina locked the front door of the house, grimacing as she noticed the empty flask on the verandah floor next to the old wicker chair, a guilty memorial to her miserable final night here. She grabbed it. One more for the trailer. She was moving on, she was done here. She was not going to end up like Russell, nursing unhappiness her whole life.
She threw the flask in the trailer and walked over to the dirt mound. ‘Bye bye, little guy, I miss you so much …’ Nina leaned down to straighten the marker and patted the earth around it.
She closed the boot on the last of her bags and scanned the now-familiar paddocks, the strange flat land with its black soil and shimmering grasses that had taken hold of her heart. As if to echo her mood, a crow flew overhead to the tank stand and began its creaking cry. This, she would miss.
The Painted Sky Page 16