Brumby Mountain (12 page)

Luke looked just as startled, but had the presence of mind not to show his surprise.

‘Petunia's pups!' said Jess. Petunia was Shara's prehistoric dog. She was a foxy cross and had been spayed for years.

‘Oh yeah,
Petunia
,' said Luke, recovering well. ‘Good bitch. Bit smaller than these guys, but real hard. Quick, too.'

‘Might be interested in one of those pups,' said the man. ‘Where did you say they were bred?'

‘Mount Isa,' said Luke. ‘Big country up there. Lots of brumbies, pigs, rogue cattle . . . '

‘Feral dogs . . .' Grace added under her breath, and Jess jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow.

‘They don't muck around with their dogs up there,' Jess piped in.

‘Nah,' agreed the man. ‘Mount Isa Runners, ay? Never heard of them.' He looked genuinely confused.

‘They're hard to come by. Worth a fortune. Could put some stamina into your bloodlines,' said Luke.

‘Give us your contact details and we'll let you know when they're ready to sell,' said Jess.

‘Listen, we better head off,' said Mrs Arnold, sounding unimpressed. ‘That snow is coming down heavier, be getting dark soon.'

The men scrambled around in their glovebox and scrawled some details on a scrap of paper while Jess tried to memorise their numberplate.

As he handed the paper to Luke, the man looked at Filth, still motionless in the back of the fourbie. ‘Sure you don't wanna borrow that gun?'

‘Nah, he's my old man's dog. We'll finish him off when we get him home, bury him in the backyard with the others.'

‘Must've been a good dog, was he?'

‘The best,' said Luke. It was the first truthful thing he'd said.

Mrs Arnold started the engine and began driving away. ‘We better get out of here,
quick
,' she muttered as she hit the accelerator. ‘Before those guys use that shotty on
us
!'

Jess felt the seat pull behind her and Luke's face appeared from the back of the car. ‘You're a genius, Jessy,' he smiled, and planted a kiss on her cheek.

They travelled in anxious silence, knowing that, quite literally, they weren't out of the woods yet, as they searched desperately for the track that led back to Matty's Creek. As the snow spread a thick white blanket over the land, everything began to look the same.

Filth lay miserably in the back of the fourbie and Luke urged Mrs Arnold, ‘We gotta get him to a vet. Drive faster; he's not going to last long.' Less than a minute later he was begging her to slow down. ‘You're bumping around too much. It's hurting him! It's hurting
me
!'

‘Make up your mind,' said Mrs Arnold, exasperated.

Finally, near dusk, she pointed through the windscreen. ‘Look!'

Rambo stood on a ridge-top, the wind ruffling his mane and his nose to the breeze, watching them intently with his mismatched eyes.

‘He's come to check on us,' said Mrs Arnold. ‘I reckon he's taken the other horses home for sure.'

Jess looked out the window, allowing the snow to land lightly on her face and catch on her eyelashes. The slopes were thick with it now and Jess hoped like crazy it would be enough to cover the fourbie's tyre tracks before the brumby-runners found their mangled yards.

13

IT WAS WELL AFTER
sunset when Mrs Arnold's battle-scarred LandCruiser bumped its way out of the forest and down the hill paddock. The snow had turned to rain now, and there were people in hats and oilskins walking around the property, lit by the headlights of several vehicles. Jess was enormously relieved to see the silhouettes of two saddled horses in the sweeping beams of light. She instantly recognised Dodger's nuggety silhouette.

‘These guys came galloping through town with no riders,' said Kitty, as Jess jumped from the car and threw her arms around her horse's neck. ‘We didn't know what had happened to you.'

‘Everyone okay?' asked Steve, who was holding Legsy by a set of broken reins.

‘We got attacked by a brumby stallion,' said Grace, leaning from the car window and launching into a full and enthusiastic account of the day. ‘Shoulda seen it. I thought it was gonna
kill
Luke!'

‘It kicked my dog,' said Luke from the back of the fourbie, where he had Filth's head cradled in his arms. ‘He needs a vet.'

People Jess had never seen before began crowding around the back of the vehicle. ‘What happened? What's wrong with him?'

‘A brumby kicked him,' said Grace. ‘There was a mob of bachelor colts and he was chasing them.'

‘Who are all these people?' asked Luke.

‘Just a few neighbours,' said Steve. ‘When a fourth-generation local comes home, word spreads fast. When his horse comes galloping through town without him, they form search parties.'

‘Let Barker have a look at him,' someone said, and the swarm of people parted like the Red Sea. A silver-haired man in a police uniform was pushed to the front of the crowd. ‘Thirty-five years on the dog squad!' said another voice. ‘He'll know what to do with him.'

Barker had a kind and craggy face with three days of stubble on his chin. He held a hand out to Fang, who sat next to Luke. Fang sniffed it and allowed the man to pat him. Then Barker ran gentle hands over Filth's slack body. ‘What's he, a dingo?'

‘Err,' Luke stammered.

‘You know it's illegal to keep dingo hybrids in New South Wales.'

‘Well, he's actually a Mount Isa Sniffer,' began Luke. ‘They're a new breed from up north. Great on cold scents. He helped us find a big white stallion today.' Jess caught Grace and Mrs Arnold rolling their eyes at each other.

‘But yeah, people often say they look a bit like dingos,' he continued. ‘Must be the Asian bloodlines they mixed in, from Burma mostly. Big jungles up there, lots of exotic prey like lions and elephants and stuff.'

‘Never knew there were lions in Burma,' said Barker, as he felt along Filth's spine.

‘Oh yeah, there's heaps of them these days,' said Luke, ‘especially since all this global warming and stuff. Yep! These dogs are pretty special, hard to come by. Surprised the dog squad up in the Isa aren't onto them yet.'

Barker and Steve exchanged cynical glances.

‘Did we mention Luke was kicked by a brumby as well?' said Mrs Arnold. ‘It got him in the head.'

‘There'll be a litter of pups back home if you're interested,' added Grace.

Mrs Arnold changed the subject. ‘There's a lot of illegal brumby-running happening up in those mountains,' she said. ‘I've got plenty of evidence if you're interested in something factual.'

‘That'd be good,' said Barker. He kept his attention on Filth. ‘He can still move his limbs. Might just be bad bruising, but I reckon we'd better get him to a vet for some X-rays.'

‘I s'pose I'll meet you at the police station in the morning,' said Mrs Arnold.

‘We don't really have one of those around here,' said Barker. ‘I usually just meet people at the pub.'

‘Hence the lawless frontier,' said Mrs Arnold under her breath. ‘The pub it is, then.'

Mrs Arnold helped them transfer Filth into the police wagon, using the controversial purple bedspread. ‘Just distract that lady from the hotel for a minute,' she muttered to Jess.

‘Yeah, it's a Mount Isa Shepherd,' Jess overheard someone else say. ‘Poor thing was probably trying to protect some sheep. Be a shame to lose him. They're quite rare, apparently.'

With Filth loaded, Luke put an arm around Jess's waist and smiled. ‘We got those brumby-runners good.'

‘We did,' she grinned.

‘You go back to the pub and get warm,' he said, giving her a squeeze. ‘I gotta take my Mount Isa Runner to the vet.'

‘Sniffer,' she corrected him. ‘Or Mount Isa Shepherd, if you run into the postmaster.'

He chuckled. She shook her head.

‘Reckon he could X-ray that arm for you while he's at it?'

‘Maybe.' He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she suddenly realised how cold and exhausted she was. She squeezed him back, wishing he could come and snuggle up with her in front of that huge fire at the pub. ‘I'll rub down Dodger and Legsy, make sure they're all right.' She waved goodbye and turned back to the horses. ‘Come on, Grace.'

14

‘STATE OF ORIGIN'S
on tonight,' said Steve loudly. ‘The Blues are gonna whip your Queenslander butts!'

The pub was busy, with men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, beers in hand, as they watched the state-of-origin match on TV. Grace and Jess were once again ushered to the pool room, where an empty wood basket stood next to a cold hearth.

‘Let's go outside and look for some firewood,' said Grace. ‘We'll freeze in here without a fire.'

They stepped out into the chilly night. A huge fig tree blocked out the moon, casting darkness all around them. Walking hand-over-hand along a smooth branch, a possum peered down at them with round, golden eyes like dollar coins. Jess patted her empty pockets. ‘Sorry, little fella.'

She pulled her collar up around her ears and shoved her hands into the warm depths of her jacket. ‘There are some gum trees out the back. Let's look there.'

Under the trees in the next paddock, the ground was thick with wet kindling and Jess began collecting twigs, snapping them against her knee and stacking them in piles. In the pub, voices rose and fell with the mood of the football. Glasses clinked, and every so often a burst of laughter erupted.

The noise increased whenever the front doors were opened. Mrs Arnold's voice rose over a chorus of footy fans.
‘GO, YOU GOOD THING!'

As the girls bundled up their firewood, a set of headlights swept over the paddock and Jess heard a truck rumble into the carpark.

‘Ohhh,' Grace breathed quietly. She dropped her bundle of sticks. ‘That's the brumby-runners' truck!'

The truck rolled to a standstill by the carpark and the driver wound his window down. It was them all right. The truck had a big crate on the back and there was a horse inside it, struggling to keep its feet.

‘It's a brumby,' said Grace. She groaned. ‘Ohhh, the
poor thing
!'

Inside the mesh cage, the horse screamed with the high, nervous pitch of a foal. ‘It's a baby,' said Jess.

The truck didn't stop, but rolled on very slowly. Jess realised the drivers were casing the carpark. She crouched down in the long grass.

‘I don't think they've come to watch the footy, somehow,' said Grace in a low, worried tone.

‘They might be looking for us,' whispered Jess. ‘And your mum's in the pub.'

There was a sudden explosion of barking. A torch snapped on and the light panned across the paddock. Grace cursed and threw herself to the ground.

Jess did the same and silently prayed the runners didn't let their dogs off. Those things were bred to pull down and kill horses. She couldn't imagine them having any trouble with a pair of scrawny teenagers. She looked at the flooded gum above her, searching for handholds, should she need them. A beam of light passed directly over her head.

Some nearby sheep bleated and she could hear their tiny hooves galloping towards the river. Next to her Grace was so quiet, Jess wondered if she was still there.

‘Just sheep,' said a gruff voice. The torch snapped off and the same voice growled at the dogs.
‘Max! Brutus! Siddown and shuddup!'

Jess lay as still as the dead, immobilised by fear, until the truck rolled out of the carpark and headed up the road. Both she and Grace poked their heads above the thistles. The truck pulled into some trees further up the road and the engine was cut. Two doors slammed, one after the other.

‘They're hiding the brumby while they go back to the pub,' whispered Grace.

‘We have to warn your mum!' Jess looked to the tree above. ‘Give me a boost. I'll see if I can get phone coverage higher up!'

Grace cupped her hands for Jess to step into. Jess hoisted herself up into the tree and climbed as high as she could. Grace followed. From the top, they could see the two runners heading for the pub.

‘Can you get a signal?' whispered Grace.

Jess opened her phone. ‘Yep.' She immediately began thumbing a message to Mrs Arnold.

Brumby runners about to walk into pub!

Within seconds the phone buzzed in Jess's hand.

Where are you?
Outside window. Up tree.

Someone lifted the sash window.

‘Hoo-hooo!' Grace did her best owl impersonation.

Mrs Arnold waved briefly, slammed the window shut and vanished. At virtually the same moment, the runners disappeared into the building.

Near the road, the foal cried again, and some other horses from surrounding farms whinnied back. Jess slipped down the main trunk of the tree.

‘Where are you going?' hissed Grace.

‘To help that brumby,' answered Jess. ‘Coming?'

‘What about Mum?'

‘She can look after herself,' said Jess, taking off along the road.

15

‘WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS?'
said Grace, panting as she tried to keep up with Jess's strides.

‘They'll be chained up,' said Jess. ‘Come on!'

‘Are you nuts? Those dogs will eat us.'

‘They're only pups.'

‘Only pups?' Grace squeaked. ‘Big pups!'

Jess found a good, thick branch, then kept walking towards the truck. As they got closer the dogs started to bark. Jess had never heard a noise so loud or ferocious. She silently thanked God the two dogs weren't fully grown, and mimicked their owner's voice as best she could.
‘Max! Brutus! Siddown and shuddup!'

The dogs backed off and, to Jess's immense relief, lay down, snarling quietly.
‘Siddownnnn,'
Jess growled again. She raised the thick branch at them. Both dogs cowered.