Flaxmead

by Brian Cain

CHAPTER ONE

  Thunder but the sky was cloudless blue, Dylan stretched up and peeked out the window of his car seat as the sound of thunder grew louder than his computer game. He could see only the pure blue sky from his crouched position, where was the storm emanating such thunder. It grew louder to the left side of the families four wheel drive, an earthquake perhaps, a brilliant summer's day not a cloud in the sky in Jerrys Plains New South Wales Australia.

  His collar length black hair had crept forwards over his eyes whilst looking at his iPod sitting on his lap, so he tossed his head to one side to improve his vision. His father slowed up a little and his mother was looking to the left of the car from the passenger's seat directly in front of Dylan. His sister peered in the same direction over his head, she was sitting on her long fair hair and had to raise herself from the seat to release it so she could lean over further. Dylan looked at her briefly as she dropped her computer game to the floor with a smiling look of awe. "Wow!" she said. Dylan stretched further to see the open fields of the Hunter Valley rolling past beside them and there was the thunder, behind the wooden fence railings, thoroughbred horses charging along adjacent to the roadway only metres away. There was a click and a buzzing sound as Dylan opened his window captivated by the flying turf and foliage kicked up by the thundering hooves, whinnied screams and deep snorted sounds mingled with the thunder. The herd peeled off from the neat wooden fence heading away from them and the thunder waned, the experience stood the hair on Dylan's neck up straight and his lean wiry framework became excited.

  They passed a small white cross on the grassy shoulder of the roadway surrounded by flowers, a reminder of the need for concentration, somebody's concentration perhaps taken from the road by the same experience. "Close your window Dylan," asked his father as the four wheel drive picked up speed. The window clicked shut. Dylan looked at his sister for a while they had lost interest in their hand held computer games, he leaned across to his sister and whispered.

  "You ask."

  "Dad, when can we have a horse?" asked his sister as, she pushed her hair back behind her ears blown around in her face by the open window.

  "Anna, we have been through this before," explained her father, his mind was on the road, "we only have five acres and horses are a big responsibility."

  "Dylan has been helping me with Harpers horses and cows for weeks now, you said if we did that you would get us a horse of our own."

  Their father briefly looked toward their mother as she intervened. "Bob you promised them, and they have been over the Harpers every night after school and of a weekend without compromising their homework."

  Bob Fields concentrated on the road ahead as he spoke; the white cross beside the road focused his mind. "I'll think about it maybe a pony."

  "We want a horse like those ones back there," said Dylan.

  "They are thoroughbred racehorses worth thousands and in some cases millions of dollars; you need a nice little pet horse."

  "Harpers race horse is a nice horse I've ridden her," said Anna.

  "You've ridden Flushing Meadow!" snapped Anna's mother.

  Anna realised what she had said and looked into her lap. "Yes, a lot. I know you told us to keep away from her because you think she's dangerous. Dylan can go into her yard and run around with her she's beautiful. She runs that fast my hair goes straight back in the wind and my eyes water."

  "Meadow certainly can run fast, she's won sixty five thousand dollars for the Harpers this year. If she wins a group one like the Cox Plate she can run in the Melbourne cup," added Bob Fields.

  "Wow I would have ridden a horse that was in the Melbourne cup," cried Anna with jubilant feeling.

  "Bob you have to stop them going over the Harpers, I made it clear that stay away from Meadow, Anna could be killed if she fell from her, remember the Cumberland boy," said Marie Fields.

  "We could be hit by a drunk coming the opposite direction on the road, risks you have to manage them. Shielding her from daily life won't help her prepare for reality," replied Bob.

  "I told the Harpers you said it was okay for me to ride Meadow, I'm not scared of her, I'm just the right weight," said Anna.

  "You are twelve years old Anna!" scowled her mother.

  "Marie I've known for a while Anna has been riding Meadow, Graham Harper told me. I watched her one day. They've been letting her run the cup distance of three thousand two hundred metres on their property. With Anna on her back she covers the distance in three minutes fifteen seconds close to the world record. Put a jockey on her back and she's two seconds off that time, tells you a bit about horses," said Bob. He gestured with one hand taking from the steering wheel to emphasis his point, he was an ardent horse lover.

  "What if she fall's Bob."

  "She won't fall."

  "She may, riders fall all the time, what about Lindy Cumberland's brother, he was only a boy."

  "She wont fall Meadow won't let her, horses aren't stupid."

  "Where did Graham get Meadow, how did he get the money she's worth a fortune, we could never afford a horse like that." Marie turned to her children talking over her shoulder between the seats. "I don't want you to be disappointed but horses like Meadow are very expensive, we have far more important things to spend our money on than galloping long shots."

  "He doesn't say much other than Flushing Meadow was on her way to the abattoir when he found her in the holding yards. Being a vet he gets around and knows his horses. He reckons Meadow looked right through him when he looked at her like he wasn't there, someone saw a lame horse destined for dog food. Graham saw a lame champion with a simple leg injury. Six months later Meadow won the first race she ever entered and hasn't lost since. She dominates the local scene."

  "I don't mind the children having a horse a nice little pony."

  "We can only get them what we can afford I agree, if I could afford a thundering bullet like Meadow Id get them one. A pony can get just a cranky as a thoroughbred but you would always be reminded of that by the stature of the horse. A pony may catch you off guard. Meadow always reminds you she has a mind of her own you may forget that with a quiet pony."

  "Meadows lovely she does whatever I ask," said Anna.

  "We've noticed love, Meadow runs faster just because Anna is there. That tells you something about horses. They don't have a clutch engine or brakes, they have needs, feelings and destiny. Life's a bit like a journey, some just have better maps than others. However Meadows map is being tampered with, Graham tells me he's having problems with the racing authorities. Someone doesn't like the idea of Meadow making the Melbourne Cup or any other race. It worries Graham and he stays local."

  "Why daddy," asked Anna.

  "Because they don't own her and someone else will get all the money and glory."

  "Can we get a horse that can win the Melbourne cup dad?" interrupted Dylan.

  "How about a nice equestrian showjumper then you can both ride in events?" replied his father.

  "Jumping over bits of wood on a pony that's a Sheila's horse, I want a rocket like Meadow," said Dylan.

  "You Wally I'm a Sheila and I ride Meadow faster than anyone so there stick it in your eye," shouted Anna.

  "Yeah well I'm going to get a motorbike and ride past you easy," Dylan shouted back.

  "You take a motorbike near Meadow and Ill punch you up the throat," screamed Anna.

  "Stop it!" shouted their father. "We have been through this before. We are lucky to have neighbours like the Harpers that you can visit looking after and riding their horses. They appreciate the fact you help. I promise if we get a chance to get a horse like Flushing Meadow we will but we can only get what we can afford. Now we are on a weekend camping trip and no more of this we need to set up camp before dark. No more about motorbikes or Meadow."

  Glares were exchanged between Anna and Dylan as they reluctantly held silence and went back to their computer games. The four wheel drive snaked its way out of Muswellbrook on to Aberdeen then past Glenbawn da
mn, Belltrees to Woolooma kicking up dust and finally through the river ford to Stewarts Brook camping ground.

  "Are we there yet?" sung Anna and Dylan in chorus.

  "Yes," said their father as they pulled up at the gate to the grassy camping ground next to Stewarts Brook below the Woolooma range and Barrington tops mountains. The camping ground had recently been mowed but was deserted; they opened and closed the gate on the way in, then pulled up along side the creek at one of the contained fire places and table facilities placed along the edge of the creek. The creek had a healthy flow of crystal clear water from the Barrington catchment area boosted by recent rains. The area is fenced on the road side and contained by the creek on the other, and old church stands on the hill overlooking the camping area on the opposite side of the road remnants of the gold mining era in the late 1800s. A track crosses the creek mid way along the camping ground where access to the rolling hills on the other side of the free flowing water can be made. The access is rough with rounded blue granite rock everywhere moulded by the relentless flow of water about ten metres wide but shallow enough to walk through. Directly on the other side of the creek along side the track well clear of the water line is a small steel holding yard and loading ramp, signs of present day activity with plump healthy cattle roaming the hills and valleys.

  Some frantic activity soon had a tent pitched below a shady tree in the late afternoon light. Going about their chores no one had noticed that Dylan was missing. As soon as his father was aware he shouted Dylan's name aloud, but there was no answer. Marie and Anna became involved in the search scouring the creek bank, Dylan's father came to the track through the water and could see the remnants of wet shoe marks on the exit of the water and looked further for Dylan's bright red shirt and blues jeans. He crossed the shin deep flowing stream and walked briskly up the rough track where he saw Dylan inside the holding yard holding the head of a magnificent thoroughbred horse, a gleaming giant. The yard was about twenty metres in diameter and his father watched as the magnificent black stallion trotted around behind Dylan as he played. Dylan put out his arms holding them up towards the horses head and the horse lowered his neck allowing Dylan to hold him.

  Bob Fields a horse rider since he was a child had never seen such a mammoth glistening black powerful animal, he estimated it was close to seventeen hands a colt of around three years of age, around seven hundred kilo and a pure hot blood. It muzzled Dylan like a mother to a child. Bob Fields scanned the horizon with a tight squint; they had seen no one for miles, what was a magnificent animal like this doing in the middle of nowhere? As he approached the holding yard the animal became agitated and reared up towards the fence standing between Dylan and his father. Dylan walked past the thoroughbred running his had along its flank as he went and climbed through the railing in front of the horse. Bob noticed a near perfect white diamond in the middle of the horse's forehead just below the forelock that matched two white socks on his front legs neatly matched above the hooves. The horse starred at him with eyes of fire and kicked the ground with its front right hove kicking up dust as he snorted and grunted.

  "I see why you came up here boy but that was a silly thing to do without telling us."

  "I knew he was here, I could hear him."

  "You have better ears than me then old mate."

  "He has no water or food dad."

  His father checked the yard. "You're right boy, who in there rightful mind would leave an animal like this in the middle of nowhere with no food or water, and in a steel yard. Have a look at it what an incredible machine."

  "He's hurt dad look at his shoulder."

  Bob tried to get a closer look but the horse reared up with a screaming gripe. "Looks like he's had a mark, maybe a brand that's been defaced. Let's get him some water mate."

  They gathered some water from the creek in a plastic drum used for shower water in the camping gear and Dylan and Anna dragged the drum to the railing as the horse went berserk should their father or mother go near the yard. Dylan took fruit inside the yard and feed it to the eager mouth of the black giant. By the droppings in the yard and the condition of the horse it could not have been confined there long. They had a bag of wild birdseed to feed the native parrots and this was also eagerly eaten by the new acquaintance. As night began to fall the children were still in the yard the horse willingly playing with them following their every move. Their father called them to the camp site as darkness fell assuring them they could return in the morning.

  Bob Fields was puzzled, he wanted to release the horse to graze and water by the creek but the yard was locked with a chain and heavy padlock. A night chill came in as darkness took hold and they sat around the camp fire after a barbeque supper. Kangaroos grazed on the freshly cut grass only metres away and a family of possums conned them out of part of their bread ration. As the glowing fire flickered gold across their faces amid the calming sounds of the running water the Anna and Dylan asked for a story. Since they were babies their father had told them stories, read to them, sung lullabies whilst tucked up in their beds.

  "I'm worried about that horse dad, can you tell me a story so I feel he will be okay?" asked Dylan.

  "Me to dad," added Anna.

  "Lets not panic, we're here for three days and we'll make sure the horse is fine. Should he still be there when its time to leave I'll call someone."

  "A story about a horse just like that one, come on dad," urged the children.

  "Come on Bob, its not often we get time together like this," added Marie.

  Bob took off his Akubra hat sitting it on top of his acoustic guitar leaning against the trunk of the gum tree they had selected for shade. "Well a story about a horse like the one in the yard."

  "Yes please, then we wont have to listen to you play that bloody guitar half the night. It's a wonder the possums and kangaroos haven't buggered off to the other side of the universe when you started playing it," added Marie.

  Bob ran his hand through his greying black hair his huge wrinkled hand nearly covering the top of his head. His light blue denim shirt was marked with dirt and stains from the creek and camp set up and his denim jeans had green scuff marks on each knee. He was well built always working or busy on the farm with lines mapping life forming on his face showing the accumulation of wisdom. "I have never said I was a good guitar player."

  "No. But you're a damn good story teller, now lets have it," replied Marie.

  Bob cracked a cold beer from the esky he was sitting on, a rare occurrence not being a big drinker. He looked up at the stars, there was something different about them tonight, then back at his family. "Okay, a story about a horse like our new friend. This could be a long one." He felt a sudden light jolt on his shoulder followed by a definite chirp, looking round to see George their pet cockatiel perched on his shoulder. He looked back at them. "How did George get here?" There was complete silence then Dylan produced Harold the pet rat from under his shirt. "There is only one way you could have got them here and that's a conspiracy, anyone going to own up as ring leader?" They looked around and at each other shrugging their shoulders shaking there heads and saying nothing. "Okay I've been had."

  "Well you better get on with it then we only have three days," added Anna.

  Bob got up from the esky opened a canvas chair sitting closer to them with George pecking at his ear and began his story. "Once upon a time, not so long ago there was a small boy."

  "I want to be in the story dad," asked Dylan.

  "Me too dad," added Anna.

  Marie smiled bitting her bottom lip sipping on a white wine. "Before you start Bob anyone seen Pipa, I haven't seen the dog since you found that horse."

  "Pipa won't come away from the horse, she's lying outside the gate," replied Bob.

  "Really," said Marie with a look of surprise.

  "You're right you know love, times like this are rare," said Bob. "Okay, once upon a time not so long ago there was a young boy called Dylan he was nine with an elder siste
r called Anna twelve and they had a horse."

  "Yeah," was the chorus from Dylan and Anna as their father continued.