by Paula Boer
At first, the idea of riding without a saddle made Louise nervous, especially with Patti watching, but then she decided it was a good idea. Besides, she didn’t own a saddle, so she didn’t really have a choice.
After bridling Honey, she led her into the sand arena. Patti was already working the warmblood down one end, trotting in spirals and performing figures of eight. Finding an empty milk crate in the centre of the school, Louise scrambled up onto Honey. The brumby fidgeted as Louise settled herself on the mare’s back, but didn’t tense up.
Louise asked her to walk around the bottom half of the arena. The mare responded well, bending through the corners and lowering her head. Feeling more confident, Louise squeezed her into a trot. The brumby’s round barrel rolled and Louise started to bounce. The more she jiggled, the stiffer she became and the faster Honey trotted. Louise hung on to Honey’s reins causing the mare to toss her head and race faster.
Feeling herself start to slip off to one side, Louise frantically pulled Honey up. Using her hands on the whither, she shifted back into position and tried to relax.
Patti rode up and halted her horse next to the brumby. “Maybe we should go back to basics with her. Let me finish working Excelsior and then I’ll give you a hand. There’s lunge gear over there. Why don’t you work her from the ground for a while first?”
Realising that she should have thought to do that herself, Louise slid off Honey and nodded. “Thanks. But I don’t want to waste your time.”
Patti smiled. “Nonsense. We can’t have you spoiling that horse by poor riding. She’s too good to get into bad habits this young. You’ve done well to come this far with her, but I think you need a bit of help. We all do, you know, even I still have someone come and instruct me.”
Surprised at this revelation, Louise felt a bit better about her own inabilities. Then she remembered that Patti taught private lessons. “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to pay you. And you’re being so generous with letting Honey stay here. Perhaps I should see if Ben can lend me a saddle, and ride another day.”
“I wasn’t going to charge you. But if you like, you can work for me through the summer and I’ll teach you as much as I can. How does that sound? I’ve more horses in than I can deal with on my own. It’ll only be grunt work like mucking out and feeding, but I really could use a hand.” Patti sat solidly on the warmblood as she waited for Louise’s answer.
“Cool!” Louise could barely contain her excitement. “But I’ll have to ride with Ben some days too, if that’s okay?”
Laughing lightly, Patti turned her horse away to continue her dressage. “Of course, just spare me any days you can.”
Heavy rain pounding on the metal roof of the house and flashes of lightning through the curtains kept Louise awake most of the night. Although she usually loved to watch a storm or be snuggled in bed when it poured outside, this time she knew the weather was bad news. The Dalrymple River had continued to rise over the last few weeks. Her father told her over dinner that the spillway wasn’t coping with the excess water and that the hydro bosses were concerned for the dam wall as well as Jackstown.
Despite feeling tired, Louise rose early on the Sunday morning to a bright sunny day. Tendrils of moisture rose from steaming pathways as the sun burnt off the night’s rain. Birds trilled loudly outside her bedroom window. Donning jodhpurs and her favourite horsey T-shirt, she quickly dressed and ate a hasty breakfast of toast with chocolate-nut paste.
Arriving at Tumbleford Farm on her bike, Louise noticed Ben exit Brandy’s stable. “How is he?”
Ben gave a small wave of his hand and changed direction to meet her. “Better than last weekend, but I’ll be pleased when the vet has a thorough look at him tomorrow. The swelling around his head and neck have gone down, but I’m worried about his leg and pastern.”
Louise walked over to see the stallion and peered over the stable door. Brandy stood with his rump towards her, resting his hind leg swaddled in thick layers of bandage. “His coat looks better, not so dull.”
“Oliver left me antibiotics and painkillers for him so I’ve been giving him those. He’s paying attention to what goes on around him again, so I suppose that’s a good sign.” As if he’d understood him, Brandy turned around and poked his head over the door, nudging Ben.
He stroked the brumby’s nose and scratched at his ears before turning to Louise. “Do you want to go and look at the cascades? They must be roaring with all that rain last night.”
Understanding that Ben didn’t wish to dwell on Brandy’s injuries, Louise nodded. “Sure. Can I take Ned?”
“Yeh, and Snip needs a good run. I’ve got them in. Let’s get ready.” Not waiting for a response, Ben strode off to the tack room.
Louise could hardly believe it was a whole year since she first went for a ride with Ben. She had learnt so much since then, and now followed the routine of getting Ned ready and heading off up the track as if she’d been doing it all her life, as Ben had. Easy in each other’s company, they trotted towards the park, splashing through puddles and trying to avoid the drips from overhanging branches.
Waterlogged ground greeted them at every dip. The rocky outcrops provided the only dry footing. Not wishing to pull the horses’ tendons in the heavy going, Ben kept the pace steady. “You can hear the cascades from here.”
Louise’s thoughts had been miles away, thinking of Honey and her time with Patti yesterday. She’d decided not to tell Ben she was having lessons. “I can barely hear the kookaburras over the roar.”
Before long the riders came in sight of the fork in the river that marked the end of the rapids. The cascades were a few hundred metres further upstream, but the amount of water coming down from the mountains had swelled the river so that the entire area had become a maelstrom of muddy debris.
Louise pulled Ned to a halt beside Ben. “Whole trees must have been torn up by the flood.”
Ben turned Snip away from the raging torrent. “We’d better tell Dad. He’s getting the fire crew and gear together ready in case of emergencies, but I don’t think even he knows what’s coming.”
Louise found it hard to take in the mass of water. She couldn’t imagine what such a force could be capable of. “What about Harry? I wonder how he’s going in his hut? I hope the storm didn’t bring down any of the trees around him.”
“Nah, he can look after himself. His place is in a clearing and looked really strong. He’ll be right.” Ben urged Snip into a trot as they reached firmer ground.
Catching up to him, Louise looked off into the distance. “We still haven’t seen any signs of the brumbies. Where do you think they are? Do you reckon they could’ve been trapped somewhere by the river, or swept away when they’ve tried to drink?”
Ben didn’t look concerned. “Probably gone to higher ground. Animals have a way of sensing when these sorts of things are going to happen. Like ants moving their eggs when it’s going to rain.”
Riding through the trees close to Tumbleford Farm, Louise spotted a wombat hole under an old upturned root. “Even the wombats are flooded out. His burrow is full of water.”
“They sometimes have many holes. He’ll have moved to a drier place. But those birds didn’t fare too well.” Ben pointed out a tangle of branches on the ground with a nest lined with feathers. The top of the tree had obviously snapped off in the storm.
A faint squawk stopped Louise. Jumping off Ned, she bent to the ground. “There are baby birds here. We’ve got to help them.”
Not bothering to dismount, Ben shook his head. “They’re too young to survive without their parents.”
Louise cupped a nestling in her hands. “Only one is alive. Let’s take it home and see if we can feed it. I can’t leave it here to die like this.”
“I can kill it, if you don’t want it to suffer.” Being practical, Ben didn’t intend to be cruel, but he was used to the ways of nature.
“No, if there’s a chance I can save it, I will.” Wrapping the naked bird in her hanky, Louise slid it in her pocket before remounting Ned.
After Ben and Louise had fed the horses, they went into the house looking for Mrs Naylor. Despite disagreeing with Louise about trying to rescue the squawking magpie, Ben had said his mother would know what to do. The kitchen was empty. “She’s probably out in the veggie patch.”
They found Mrs Naylor bent over her carrots, thinning out the weak. Not stopping what she was doing, she continued to pluck out weeds. “Did you have a good ride?”
“Mum, you should have seen the cascades!” Ben felt a nudge from Louise. “Oh, and Louise found a baby bird that fell out of its nest.”
Mrs Naylor straightened up and squelched in her wellies over to the friends. “Let’s have a look. Is it really young?”
Louise extracted the bird from her pocket and unwrapped the hanky. An ugly pair of eyes goggled at them. The scrawny head stretched open its sharp beak and squawked. Stubby feathers added to the bird’s awful appearance, along with a bright red throat and oversized feet. “Do you think we can save it?”
“We can try. It still has some strength. There’s some mince in the fridge, Ben. Try mixing that with a bit of raw egg yolk and see if you can get it to take any. I’ll be in soon.”
Louise followed Ben with her precious charge in her hands. She wanted to name the tiny creature, but felt it might be too soon. Her thoughts were interrupted as Mr Naylor crossed the yard towards them.
“I’m heading off with the bulldozer to help the hydro guys. They want to divert the river into Currawong Creek.”
After listening to Ben’s news about the cascades, he turned to leave. “This is bad. We’re going to need all the help we can get to save Jackstown. Let’s hope Tumbledown Creek doesn’t come up any more and threaten the house. Keep your eyes on it and tell your mother I’ll be home late.”
Chapter 6
Ben handed a bowl of mince to Louise and cracked an egg into a saucer. Draining off the white into a cup, he slid the yolk into the meat. “I’ll get a spoon.”
The rescued bird nestled in a towel in Louise’s hand. Taking the teaspoon from Ben, she tried to feed the mix into the magpie’s gaping beak. The mince dropped to her lap, missing the open maw. “Have you anything smaller I could use? How about a pair of tweezers?”
Shaking his head, Ben tried to think. “I expect Mum has some, but I have no idea where they’d be. Hang on, there’s one in my penknife.” Removing his Swiss Army knife from the pouch on his belt, Ben extracted the fine metal pincers.
Louise squeezed morsels between the nippers and dropped them into the magpie’s beak. As soon as it had successfully swallowed one, it pecked at the tweezers for more. “Look, he’s taking it.”
Ben thought that maybe the baby bird had a chance after all. He had never tried to raise an orphan like this. “Before I was born, Mum rescued a sulphur-crested cockatoo with a broken wing. It still visits each summer and sits on the roof of the porch where it used to be caged.”
Continuing to feed the bird, Louise listened as Ben related the rest of the story about how the bird had been caught in a new overhead power line before falling in front of Mrs Naylor’s car. “How lucky was that? And he still visits. They can live over a hundred years.” Ben drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.
Louise fed the magpie a few more swallows of mince. “I suppose this little guy is lucky too. Do you think I can keep him in a shoebox or something?”
“I guess, but Mum’ll still have Snowy’s cage. I’ll ask her later. Will you be alright to cycle home with it in your pocket?” Ben nodded at the bird, dubious about its chance of survival on the back of a bike.
“Sure. I expect he’ll sleep now that he’s eaten. I think I’m going to call him Fred.”
After Louise left, Ben unclipped Snifter from his chain to take him for a run. Although he usually enjoyed Louise’s company, Ben couldn’t believe she was making so much fuss about a bird when Brandy was in a far more critical condition. The stallion was unlikely to ever be the same again, if he was allowed to live.
Looping a roll of wire over his shoulder, Ben sauntered across the boggy paddocks to repair a break in the fence he had seen the previous day. It wasn’t a big job, but it gave him an excuse to get away from the homestead while he tussled with his thoughts. What would he do if Brandy couldn’t be ridden again? Would his Dad insist on the stallion being gelded, or maybe put down? He couldn’t bear to think of the consequences if Oliver, the vet, couldn’t heal the injured leg.
Coming to the gap in the fence where a fallen branch had broken the wires, Ben extracted the fencing pliers from his back pocket and commenced repairing the break. Years of practice meant it didn’t take him long. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he whistled for Snifter. The blue heeler never went far, snuffling for rabbits under old logs or having a good roll in something too smelly to guess what it was.
With no sign of his dog, Ben walked towards Tumbledown Creek which surged over the banks and flooded the bottom of the paddock. When he saw the state of the boundary fence, he wondered why he had bothered to fix a small break. Many of the posts were under water and tangles of wire trapped the debris from the raging river.
About to turn away, a movement caught Ben’s eye. “Snifter! What are you doing out there?” Running to the edge of the water, Ben watched as his dog struggled against the current. Although he loved to swim, with only three legs the cattle dog was losing against the force of the water. Ben paced up and down. “Come on, boy. You can do it. Swim!”
Seeing his best mate struggling, Ben didn’t know what to do. He knew if he went in after his dog, he could be caught by the undertow or hit with one of the large tree limbs that swirled in the maelstrom. Snifter struggled to climb onto a clump of grass and twigs but it sank beneath his weight. Slowly being dragged downstream amongst the debris, the dog could barely hold his head above the water.
Unravelling the wire from around his shoulders, Ben fastened a loop in one end and cast the makeshift lasso out towards Snifter. The end landed on the dog’s nose, causing him to flinch and miss his stroke. He went under as an uprooted tree whirled by.
“No! Snifter!” Ben saw two saturated ears break the surface, followed by the dog’s head. He threw the wire again, this time looping it over Snifter’s neck. Gently, so as not to cause more harm, Ben drew the weakened animal towards him.
When Snifter’s feet touched solid ground, he stood and shook himself with half his body still submerged in the murk. Ben couldn’t wait any longer. He waded into the shallow waters and grabbed his dog, dragging him out by the collar. Together, boy and dog slumped into the mud at the water’s edge. “I thought I’d lost you, you stupid, stupid dog.”
Grasping Snifter to his chest, Ben rocked the sodden beast until a hot wet tongue washed over his face. A huge sob escaped Ben’s chest. First Brandy’s accident, and then he had almost lost Snifter. He sat stroking the dog for awhile before he clambered to his feet. “I think we’d both better get home and dry out. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Oliver’s white station wagon drew up beside the stables as Ben finished feeding Brandy the following morning. “How are you, laddie? How’s that brumby?”
Ben had waited anxiously for the vet since waking at five that morning, but now that Oliver was here, Ben worried that the prognosis for his horse would not be good. “Yeh, okay. He’s eating, and tried to nip me this morning, so I guess he’s feeling better.”
“Good, good. Where’s your dad?” Oliver opened the hatch at the back of his car and extracted his surgical box before he followed Ben into Brandy’s stable.
Ben closed the half door behind them. “He’s out working with the ’dozer, helping divert the river. He won’t be back until late again.”
Oliver nodded. Walking around the stalli
on, he stroked his beard with one hand. “Well, let’s knock this laddie out so we can have a good look at him. This stable is big enough, but we’ll need more straw to protect him when he goes down.”
“I’ll get another bale.” Ben dashed to the hay barn where he hefted a bale of wheaten straw on to his hip. Back in Brandy’s stable, he cut the twine and fluffed the bedding around the walls.
Taking down Brandy’s headcollar from a hook outside the stable door, Ben haltered his horse and waited while the vet filled a syringe with tranquilliser. “How long will that knock him out for?”
Oliver replaced the vial in his box. “Half an hour or so. If we need more time, I’ll give him a top up. Move him into the middle a bit more, and I’ll guide him as he goes down.”
After Oliver had swabbed Brandy’s neck clean and injected the sedative into Brandy’s vein, the stallion’s head lowered and his eyelids closed. He staggered on his feet and started to buckle at the knees like a drunk. “Stand clear.”
Ben wished he’d laid out more straw as he felt the ground thump as Brandy landed on his side. He helped Oliver straighten out the brumby’s legs and make sure his head lay at a comfortable angle.
“Now, laddie, let’s cut that bandage off and see what we’ve got.” Oliver set to work with a scalpel, cutting away swathes of blood-crusted cotton wool. As he removed layer after layer, the smell of rotting flesh wafted through the stable.
Ben wanted to look at Brandy’s wound but also feared what he might see. “What do you think?”
After washing the leg with saline, Oliver cut away flaps of dead skin that hung loose. “There’s no infection, but it’s a nasty wound. This’ll take months to heal and a lot of care. If there’s no damage to the nerves or tendons, he might come good, but there’s no guarantee.”