by Paula Boer
As she went on to tell Patti about what Mr Naylor had said, and how many people were working on the levy bank, Mrs Smythe-Waters came back, obviously having overheard their conversation. “Don’t worry about ringing Sally. I’ll contact her and organise something. That sounds like too much work for one person. I’ll let her know that Ben’s with his father, too.”
Louise, having finished scraping the water from Lady’s slick coat, leant on the wash bay rail. “The volunteers are getting sand from near the old homestead, if that’s any help.”
“Maybe we can use the kitchens there. It’ll be easier than making things at home if there’s not too much work to clean the place up. I’ll get hold of Adam Cartwright and see what he thinks.” Mrs Smythe-Waters said goodbye again and returned to her car.
Patti replaced the grooming tools in their proper place. “That’s settled, then. Now we can turn these horses out while you tell me why you had so much trouble with them, flies or no flies.”
The next day Louise cycled to Gold River Run, keen to learn more from Patti. The horse trainer had been great the day before, talking to her about Lady and how to deal with a bossy mare. “You have to let her know you are higher up the herd order than her,” she had said. Today, Patti had promised to give her another lunge lesson on Honey.
Being the holidays, the roads were quieter than normal. There had been no rain for several days, and everything looked lush and green under the bright sunshine. By the time she arrived at Gold River Run her dry throat cried out for a long, cool drink. She had frozen her water bottles over night; they would be thawed enough to drink but still cold after her long cycle.
As Louise could hear the radio playing in the indoor arena, she diverted from her path to the stables to find Patti. The horse trainer was working the Thoroughbred mare, watching the horse’s flexion in the mirrors as they performed shoulder-in down the long side. The mare trotted in time to the classical music, her bay coat gleaming from well-being and exertion.
As horse and rider turned down the middle line towards the double doors, Louise waved.
Patti nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything until she had brought the Thoroughbred to a perfect four-square halt in the centre of the arena. Then giving the mare a long rein, she walked across to where Louise waited. “Good morning. Could you tack Excelsior up for me? I want to walk this girl round and let her relax before I finish.”
“Sure. She looks lovely.” Louise hurried off to get Patti’s next horse ready, happy to be trusted with the big Hanoverian. She knew that Patti aspired to the warmblood gelding reaching grand prix dressage and that he was worth a huge amount of money.
After returning with the grey gelding and washing down the Thoroughbred mare, Louise settled into her chores of sweeping the concrete breeze-way, skipping out muck from the loose boxes and ensuring all the horses had fresh water. She loved the smell of horses and dust, saddle soap and muck that wafted around her when she opened the sliding doors at either end of the stable block. Not afraid of hard work, she groomed horses and cleaned tack, aired out winter rugs in the sun, scrubbed buckets and tidied the feed room.
When she heard the clip-clop of Patti returning a horse, she ran to help and absorb as much information as she could about what exercises Patti had done and how the horse had performed. Lunchtime was well past by the time Patti finished with the last horse.
“Let’s have a break. Then you can get Honey in.” Patti removed her helmet, leaving a ring of damp hair plastered to her forehead. She splashed water over her face from under the outside tap before leading the way across to the house.
Louise grabbed her pack lunch and followed. Kicking off her boots, she padded across the cold tile floor of the kitchen. “Ben and I saw a bunch of horses in Willowlea yesterday. Do you know what the Smythe-Waters’ are doing with them?”
Patti sliced her sandwich in two and sat at the scrubbed pine table. “Horses? I thought they only had a couple of retired stockhorses over there. Robert musters with motorbikes and dogs these days.”
Louise picked at a packet of dried fruit and nuts. “This is a big herd, with a stallion. They look like brumbies.” She didn’t want to tell Patti that she knew exactly which wild herd it was.
“That sounds odd. Marilyn never mentioned anything. Maybe the fence is down and they’ve strayed in from the park. Everything is in disarray from the floods.” Patti poured herself a glass of iced lemonade and offered some to Louise.
Disappointed that Patti didn’t know more, Louise dropped the subject. Patti was obviously good friends with Mrs Smythe-Waters, and she didn’t want to get either of them offside. She’d have to find a way to talk to the ranger. She hoped Ben would think to mention the brumbies if he saw Mr Cartwright in the park. She had seen a truckload of horses pass her when she cycled in and worried that they were brumbies going to slaughter.
With their lunch finished, Louise brought Honey in and gave her a quick brush down. Gone was the irritated mare of yesterday when Lady was around. “This is how I like you. Soft and gentle.”
After Louise warmed Honey up with some ground work, Patti gave her a leg-up and had her perform the exercises she had taught her. “Today I want you to give Honey all the instructions, but I’ll keep her on the lunge rein to make you feel secure. When you’re ready, take her wide around the arena. I’ll come along beside you.”
Louise started by walking Honey in circles around Patti, relying on the mare to lunge without needing to give her directions. She increased the pace to trot and back to walk a few times before coming to a halt. “At least I’m staying on today. Should I change direction?”
Patti pointed to where the lunge rein connected to the cavesson on top of Honey’s nose. “There’s no need for me to change the clip. You tell her where you want to go. I’ll follow.”
Applying her offside leg, Louise tried to turn Honey, but the mare walked on in a straight line.
Patti kept up to her shoulder but walked a few metres away so as not to interfere. “Try placing your lower leg further back.”
Louise did as suggested, and Honey stepped sideways before continuing on in a straight line. “What am I doing wrong? Wouldn’t it be easier if I had a bridle?”
“You don’t want to pull your horse around from the front. You want her to turn using her hindquarters. Turn your upper body slightly in the direction you want to go. That’ll make your hips do the same which signals your horse to bend.” Patti held the lunge whip level with Honey’s hindquarters; the mare turned them away.
“She did it.” Louise walked a few more circles and then tried to change direction again. The mare still wouldn’t turn without encouragement from Patti.
“Never mind. She’ll get the idea. Don’t forget she doesn’t know what you’re asking. Be consistent, and remember to release the pressure as soon as you get the result you want.” Patti let more lunge rein out, increasing the distance between her and Honey. “Try again.”
After a few more attempts, Louise managed to turn Honey in both directions. “Should I try it at trot?”
Patti shook her head. “Go wide around the arena and give her the instructions to turn at each corner. We don’t want to confuse her.”
They worked on turning and transitions for another half an hour, by which time Louise was exhausted. “That’s hard work, harder than mucking out the stables.”
“That shows you haven’t been using your body correctly until now. Your muscles will strengthen.” She led the way from the arena. “I bet you’ll be sore tomorrow but I’m going to keep pushing you to do more.”
Chapter 10
Snifter lay down with his head on his paws as Ben clipped him onto his chain. “That’s the farm chores done, mate. I’d better do Brandy’s leg next.”
After grabbing a headcollar from the tack room, Ben strode across to the stallion’s stable. Brandy had his head over the do
or, chewing on a mouthful of hay. Ben admired the liver chestnut brumby who reminded him of a magnificent bronze war horse he had seen in an antique shop. Only the thick bandage from pastern to hock showed anything amiss with the horse.
As Ben entered the dim interior, the brumby spun on his hindquarters to grab another mouthful from the hay net. Ben noticed him flinch as he weighted his hoof when he turned, but otherwise he seemed to be coping well with his injuries. “I think I’d better tie you up.”
Backing Brandy to the centre of the stable, he looped the lead rope through the baling twine that hung from a tie ring on the wall. Ben had placed a bucket of water and his medical equipment outside in preparation. After moving them inside, he selected a scalpel. Running his hands down Brandy’s hind leg, he tugged at the wrapping. As the stallion kept his hoof firmly on the ground, Ben started to slice at the old bandage.
Surprised at how easily the dressing came away, Ben peeled the last layers from the leg. Brandy lifted his hoof up and held it high for a few moments before resting back on his toe, but he didn’t attempt to kick.
Ben stared at the wound. It looked hideous with gnarled flesh protruding in lumps around the edges. As instructed by the vet, he washed the leg with saline and applied fresh wax gauze over the exposed bone. Adding layers of cotton wool and bandage, he finished by securing and waterproofing the whole arrangement with sticky sports tape. Ben was proud of the job he had done, despite Brandy’s leg ending up twice as fat as normal.
The stable darkened as two heads appeared outside the door. “He’s behaving well. Did you have to sedate him?”
Ben turned as he recognised the voice. “Uncle Graeme! No, I didn’t need to. I think he must know I’m trying to help.”
“More like he respects your authority. You’ve done a good job with that horse. What did the vet say?”
Not sure how much to let on about Oliver Giles suggesting that Brandy be put down, Ben hesitated. “Time will tell. We won’t know for a few months if he’ll be rideable.”
Ben’s brother John stood next to Graeme. “He didn’t geld him then?” John was studying agriculture at a residential college in the wheat country and usually had more interest in crops than animals.
“No. How was your fishing?” Changing the subject seemed the best answer as Ben knew his father had told the family about not wanting a stallion on the farm.
John shared his news with Ben as they unloaded their swags from Graeme’s four-wheel-drive. “Dad’s asked me to stay for the rest of the college holidays to help out. I guess he’s behind with all the work since building that levy to save Jackstown.”
“Yeh, he’s been out there fourteen hours a day. Mum and a few other women are cleaning up the old homestead to cater for everyone out there. Luckily the fire that closed it down all those years ago was only in the living areas, not the kitchen.”
Ben filled the kettle and spooned coffee into three mugs. “I guess we’d better go and help with sandbagging once you’ve had some lunch.”
Sitting round the kitchen table, Graeme regaled Ben with tales about his latest mares. “I managed to buy some good bloodstock straight off the track. They were really cheap as they’re not fast enough to race, but they’ll throw good stockhorses.” Graeme bred and trained horses for a living. He had a large property out western New South Wales, where he also ran cattle.
Stirring two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his drink, Graeme helped himself to a large slice of home-made carrot cake with his other hand. Mumbling through a mouthful, he changed his tone. “I could use that stallion of yours to give their foals some toughness. If he doesn’t come good to ride, do you want to send him out to me?”
Ben had been enthusiastically listening to John and Graeme’s stories, but the reminder about Brandy’s future depressed him. “He’d be great, but I’m going to get him better. If I bring him out to you, it’ll be to muster some of those micky bulls.”
Graeme laughed and smacked the table with his broad hand. “That’s the spirit. But remember my offer. Even if it’s only temporary, running with a herd for a few months would heal his leg as good as any vet.”
Ben could see the advantage of Brandy having space to recover naturally, but worried that he’d resort to being feral. “He’s going to be okay. I won’t need to send him anywhere.”
The following morning, Ben checked the stock with Snifter bounding at his heels. Despite the glorious day, the uncertainty of Brandy’s future played on his mind. Although the topic had been avoided at dinner last night, Ben could tell neither his father nor Uncle Graeme rated the stallion’s chance of recovery as a riding horse very high.
Most talk had been about the floods, of course, but the situation seemed to be coming under control. Most of the work was being performed by the heavy earth moving equipment, so with Graeme and John around to help, Ben had the morning free.
As he expected, Louise had already arrived when he returned to the stable yard. Snifter greeted her as if he hadn’t seen her for months, rather than the week it had been since she was last at Tumbleford Farm. Bouncing on his hind legs, he yipped with excitement as she tried to say hello to Ben. “I’m really glad you rang last night. I hope we see Harry today, because I want to ask him about Fred.”
Ben had suggested they leave a note for the old hermit at the signpost tree as he wanted to ask advice about Brandy’s leg. If anyone knew how to make the horse sound, he felt sure that Harry would. “We’d better go and catch Snip and Ned. Let’s take the bikes, then we can leave them there and ride back when we turn the horses out later.”
Snifter ran along the verge, snuffling under blackberries before hurrying to catch up with the two cyclists. Arriving at the bush paddock, Ben told his dog to lay down and stay. “He’s so used to rounding them up to bring them into the yards; he’ll be a nuisance if we let him come with us.”
They wandered through the scrub until they found the mob of geldings sleeping under a tree. The horses stood nose to tail, swishing away the flies. The friends caught and bridled the horses and led them through the gate. Before vaulting on to Snip, Ben gave Louise a leg up. He thought she looked far more comfortable riding bareback today than when they had brought the horses out, but he guessed the second time was always easier when you knew what to expect.
After a quick groom back at the farm, they saddled the horses and headed out through the park. Cantering along under a blue sky, Ben started to cheer up. Snip had become a delight to ride—responsive but keen. Only a year ago he had been a handful and very green. His black coat rippled with fitness and his long legs stretched effortlessly across the ground.
Ben checked the gelding to enable Louise to catch up on the slower Ned. “It’s good to be out for a ride. It seems like I’ve done nothing but work for days.”
Louise cantered easily alongside him on a loose rein. “You’ve had Brandy to worry about too. I’m glad he seems to be getting better. He looked lovely in the stable this morning.”
He grimaced as he thought of the brief conversation last night, but at least his uncle had taken his side. “Yeh, but there’s still no certainty I’ll be able to ride him again. Uncle Graeme says he can use him as a stud if he doesn’t come good. At least that would be better than putting him down.”
“Destroy him now? After all you’ve done? That would be terrible.” Louise stroked Ned’s neck as if that would save Ben’s stallion.
Ben didn’t want to discuss his brumby with anyone, even Louise. When a large clearing opened up ahead of him, he checked Louise had Ned in control before surging ahead. “Race you to the wombat rock!”
Snip stretched his neck forward and extended his stride. The wind rushed past Ben’s face, stinging his cheeks and howling in his ears. The power of the horse beneath him made his heart rush as he watched out for gullies or rabbit holes. Snip navigated over the rocky ground as if he was on a groomed racetrack.
Pulling up at their destination, Ben regained his breath. He turned and watched Louise catch up. The Appaloosa was no match for Snip, but he could see from his friend’s grin that she had enjoyed the gallop as much as he did. Both horses sweated heavily and blew with distended nostrils. Their flanks heaved, though being fit they recovered quickly.
“Let’s walk down to the creek and give these guys a drink.”
Louise dropped her feet out of her stirrups and swung her legs. “I guess you don’t have as much time to ride now with your dad busy at the levy.”
“No. I’m glad John’s back for a while to help.” Despite their difference in age, John and Ben worked well together. John wasn’t at all bossy or know-it-all as Ben had feared when his brother had first gone off to agricultural college.
“Do you want me to ride Lady for you while she’s at Patti’s? That’ll save you going over there and you can spend more time with Snip and Brandy.” Louise plucked at Ned’s mane, untangling the sweaty locks away from the reins.
Ben had forgotten to ask how Louise had managed leading Lady home the other afternoon. He guessed she’d coped okay if she was offering to ride the fiery part-Arabian. Not that she’d had much trouble riding her before, but when the chestnut mare was near Honey her aggressive nature surfaced. “That’d be cool. Will you have time with doing work for Patti too?”
“I just do as much as I can. I’m learning heaps.” Louise turned Ned down the bank to the creek, which had lowered in depth considerably since their last visit. Although the water still swirled along, it had lost its chocolate colour and no longer carried debris from upriver.
As the horses lowered their muzzles to the cold mountain stream, Ben jumped off and cupped water over Snip’s neck and chest with his hands. “Is that good, boy?” Having wiped the excess damp off with the side of his hand, Ben bent down and splashed his own face. Feeling mischievous, he flicked spray at Louise.