When they arrived at Harry’s, Rosie, Tom and Luke were sitting on bales of hay on the back of a ute. Rosie waved enthusiastically. ‘Hurry up,’ she called. ‘We’re about to go!’
Jess dumped her bike and ran to the ute. She climbed up next to Rosie, slipped on a loose biscuit of hay and somehow landed in Luke’s lap. ‘Oh, sorry!’
Luke grinned but said nothing while she tried to climb off him.
Harry hobbled down from the house with a clipboard and pen. He saw Jess clambering off Luke and gave her a wink.
What? I wasn’t . . . I was just . . . I was not!
She climbed over Rosie and found a spot on top of a hay bale. It didn’t feel overly secure, but it was as far away as possible from the boys.
‘That’s one way to introduce yourself, I s’pose,’ said Harry as he reached for the driver’s side door, and before Jess could protest, he said, ‘Righto, who wants to come down the paddock and help me register this season’s foals? We’ve got to get a record of all their markings and colour and so on and so forth. Details, details, endless details . . .’ His voice trailed off into a mutter as he lowered himself into the front seat.
Grace ran out from the stables. ‘Wait for me!’
‘You give that horse some water?’ Harry asked as he leaned over and opened the passenger door for her. Grace nodded as she jumped in. The ute roared to life, and soon they were bumping their way down a long laneway with fences and horses on either side.
At the end, the mares cantered up to the gate, eager for some hay. The foals followed on awkward, jerky legs, frolicking and bucking. Harry drove around the paddock in a big circle and the mares flocked around as the girls tossed out hay in biscuits. As the horses settled into feeding, Harry pulled on the brake and got out his clipboard.
Luke grabbed some tools from the back and without a word, headed towards a leaky water trough. Tom jumped over the side of the ute and followed.
Harry shuffled through his papers. ‘Let’s start with Elly’s foal,’ he said. He hobbled towards a brown mare. She nickered softly to him as he ran a hand over her shoulder, checking her brands and marking them down in his notes. ‘What’ve you got for us this year, Elly?’ He turned to the girls. ‘Is that foal gonna be bay or black, Rosie?’
‘Black for sure, Harry. Look around its eyes!’ said Rosie. Sure enough, its brown foal fluff was beginning to shed, revealing glossy black circles around its eyes.
‘Sure it’s not buckskin?’
Rosie tossed a piece of hay at him.
‘Okay, if you say so. Black it is!’ he chuckled, writing it down in his notes. ‘Geez, what day was it born? I think this one was born last Saturday, wasn’t it?’
‘It’s a colt, Harry. Let’s call him Biggles,’ said Grace.
‘No, it has to be an Aboriginal name like Biyanga,’ said Rosie.
‘What does Biyanga mean?’ asked Jess.
‘It’s an Aboriginal word meaning “father”,’ explained Harry. ‘When Biyanga was born he presented backwards, and an Aboriginal stockman helped me to turn him.’ He shook his head. ‘Bloody amazing horseman, he was. He saved the foal
and
the mare so I asked him if he’d name the foal. He said the colt would grow up to be a great sire, so he called him Biyanga.’
Rosie grinned at Jess. ‘Good name, isn’t it?’
‘I reckon,’ said Jess.
‘Let’s call this one Billabong!’ Rosie suggested.
‘Billabong: I like that,’ said Harry, writing it down. ‘We could call him Billy for short.’
They went from mare to mare, recording their brands, colour and markings, and thinking up worthy names for the foals. They called a chestnut colt Boomerang, a black colt Corroboree, and black filly Coolamon.
As they went about naming and recording details, the foals stayed close to their mothers, nuzzling udders for milk or just taking shade in their shadows. From beneath a chestnut mare, Jess could see a small muzzle snuffling for its mother’s teat. Its little round chin was covered in long wiry hairs.
She bent down on one knee so that she could get a closer look. As another mare brushed past its rump, the foal scrambled beneath its mother, and popped out in front of Jess with a confused expression. It looked straight into Jess’s eyes and paused, cocking its head to one side.
Jess held her gaze. ‘Beautiful girl,’ she whispered.
Then the filly trotted unsteadily around to face its mother again, displaying a white snowcap marking over the rump of its chestnut body.
Jess felt a rush of joy. For that brief moment, while the little animal stared into her eyes, all the fractured and broken pieces of her soul came back together, making her feel complete. She was connected to something again. Somehow this filly was a part of her. It was bizarre.
‘She’s a little Appaloosa,’ said Rosie. ‘Her colour was a complete surprise to her owners. They thought the mare was just a solid colour, but if you look, she’s got a few speckles here and there. Harry reckons she’s an Appaloosa too, but she just has minimal markings.’
‘Why doesn’t Jess name this one?’ suggested Harry. ‘There’s something special about her, don’t you think?’
‘Won’t her owner want to name her?’ asked Jess.
‘Nah, he just wants her registered.’
Jess thought about it. There was indeed something very special about her. ‘How about Walkabout?’ she asked.
‘She’s been walkabout all right,’ laughed Harry. ‘She gave us a real run-around down on the river flats. We couldn’t find her for days.’
‘That’s a perfect name, Jess,’ said Rosie. ‘We can call her Wally for short.’
‘Walkabout it is,’ Harry said, writing it down. Then he scratched his chin and said thoughtfully, ‘She’s an old soul, that one.’
‘What day was she born?’ asked Jess.
Harry thought about it and said, ‘Last Tuesday, probably . . . no, last Wednesday. That’s right. The mare went missing after the Wednesday feed delivery.’
Jessica’s heart skipped a beat. That was the day Diamond had died. She couldn’t help feeling that there was some weird link between Diamond and the little filly, something Jess couldn’t quite put her finger on, the way she made her feel, the familiarity with which she looked at her. It was haunting.
‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Harry.
‘It’s like she knows me or something,’ said Jess.
‘She’s the pick of the bunch, I reckon,’ he said. ‘Shame I don’t own her.’
Behind Harry, Jess saw Grace crawling on her hands and knees among the herd, gaining the curiosity of one of the more inquisitive foals. She sat cross-legged, letting the foal come up and sniff her head, while she stayed perfectly still.
Rosie shook her head. ‘She’s gonna get herself killed one day.’
While Grace and Rosie decided on their favourite foals and tried to get close enough for pats, and the boys patched up some holes in the fence, Jess couldn’t take her eyes off the chestnut Appaloosa filly.
She walked home that afternoon feeling alive for the first time in days. A million thoughts rolled around in her brain, all leading back to the filly. That funny little look she gave her before she displayed her rump. Jess wanted to go back and see her again. She really wanted to tell Shara about her.
Jess reached for her phone, then realised she hadn’t brought it – and anyway, she wasn’t talking to Shara. She could just miss out!
BIYANGA WANDERED CASUALLY
into the stable with Grunter frolicking about his legs. It was the following weekend and Jess had woken early, unable to sleep again, thinking about Walkabout. As soon as the sun peered over the horizon, she’d slipped into a pair of jodhpurs and headed for Harry’s place. She emptied some grain into the stallion’s feedbin and stuffed his haynet full. From the stables on top of the hill she could see across Harry’s whole property.
Shara would love this.
The mares and foals were scattered about their paddock, some grazing and some sleeping. Others groomed their foals and urged them to stay close. Jess could see the snowcap rump of Walkabout poking out from beneath the chestnut mare, while her front end was busy suckling. The filly gave an impatient stamp as she nuzzled and pushed at the udder, bringing down the milk.
Grace appeared at the door. ‘Harry said I could have a ride on the colts today!’
‘Hi, Grace! Wow, you lucky thing,’ Jess said in awe.
‘I also brought a couple of new horses that Dad got at the sales. Harry’s going to have a look at them. You can have a ride on them, if you want. The bay one looks like a real goer!’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ said Jess. She wasn’t sure about riding any new horses.
‘You usually ride with Shara Wilson, don’t you? She still your bestie?’
‘We just used to ride pairs in the mounted games,’ said Jess, fingering the lifeless phone in her pocket. ‘We don’t talk much anymore.’ She changed the subject. ‘Where’s Rosie?’
‘She’s still in bed. She is so lazy in the mornings. I always have to feed her horses or they starve waiting for her.’
‘Early mornings can be good sometimes,’ said Jess. ‘It’s like having the whole world to yourself for a little while.’
‘Me too!’ said Grace. ‘I love them. Hey, you and I should be besties!’
Jess laughed. ‘Sure!’
Harry limped down from the house and opened the door of the ute. ‘Who’s coming to feed up?’ he called out, as the engine roared to life.
Jessica jumped up onto the hay bales in the back. ‘Come on, Bestie!’ she said to Grace, giving her a hand up.
Soon they were bumping down the laneway, tossing out biscuits of hay to waiting horses.
When they parked in the centre of the mare’s paddock, Walkabout trotted into the open with her neck arched and her tail high in the air. She gave a loud, assertive snort, as though she owned the world. Then she bounced into a gallop, rushing over to her friends, pigrooting all the way. As she reached the other foals, she slid to a halt, then spun on one heel and galloped off in another direction, urging them to follow.
‘Did you see that?’ Harry whistled. ‘What a poser!’ He leaned against the side of the ute, watching the foals.
Jess laughed as she carried some hay out into the paddock for the mares. Like the sound of a horse munching or the smell of their sweat, watching foals at play was just one of those wonderful, wonderful things in life.
The filly wheeled around to the left and then galloped straight towards Jess. When Walkabout was nearly on top of her, she skidded to a halt and gave a big cheeky snort. She was so close Jess could feel the spray from her nostrils. The filly looked Jess dead in the eye, and for a split second nothing but the two of them existed. Then she let out a whinny, turned and galloped away again.
Dumbstruck, Jess stood there with the hay still in her arms. The smile on her face stretched to the tips of her ears and she turned to Grace. ‘Did you see that, Grace?’ she asked excitedly. ‘She came right up to me!’
Grace and Harry had both seen it and they laughed out loud.
‘Cheeky little blighter,’ said Harry.
Jess felt warm all over. It was as though rays of light were glowing through her whole body.
They left the horses to enjoy their breakfast and, as they bounced their way back up the laneway, Jess asked Grace for her mobile number. She pulled her own phone out of her pocket and flipped it open, ready to punch in the new number.
Grace looked a bit awkward. ‘Um, I don’t have one.’
Jess stalled, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her that some people might not spend their lives attached to a mobile.
‘Oh, okay.’ She put hers back in her pocket.
Back at the stables, the smell of frying bacon, eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms wafted from the house.
‘Smells like Annie’s got breakfast ready,’ said Harry as he climbed out of the ute and rubbed his belly. He looked at Jess. ‘She was a cook out on the stations when I first met her. Fell in love with her cooking as much as the woman herself.’ He started walking towards the house. ‘Coming?’
‘Come on, Bestie,’ said Grace. ‘It’s Sunday-morning tradition to eat breakfast on the verandah!’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Jess as she ran after them.
Inside the house, Rosie sat at the kitchen bench supervising the toaster and chatting to an older woman, who Jess assumed was Annie. She had well-groomed hair tied in a bun and skin that was wrinkly and raisin-brown as if it had seen too much sun. She flipped a pan full of eggs over easy as she talked.
Harry, Grace and Jess kicked off their dusty boots and washed up in the laundry before joining them.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ Grace said to her big sister as she walked into the kitchen. ‘About time you got out of bed. I fed your horses for you this morning while you were in Noddy-Noddy Land.’
‘I saw that,’ said Rosie, switching the toaster off at the wall and retrieving a mangled piece of toast. ‘You should have woken me.’
‘I tried, and you just kept on snoring.’ Grace demonstrated loudly.
At that moment Tom and Luke entered the kitchen.
‘Didn’t know you snored, Rosie,’ said Tom. He wore a fancy-looking shirt freshly smeared with mud. Luke wore a similar shirt, which carried crease marks as though it had just been pulled brand-new out of a packet. Jess couldn’t help wondering if Tom had given it to him.
Rosie blushed. She dropped the piece of toast and swiped at Grace, who was still imitating her. ‘I do
not
snore, Grace!’
‘Ooo, getting all
embarrassed
in front of the
boys
,’ teased Grace.
Jess giggled. Rosie always seemed self-conscious around Tom and Luke.
‘You snore worse than Grunter,’ said Annie as she carried a huge platter through the kitchen. ‘Now pick up that toast and put it in the bin before someone walks it through the house. Tom and Luke, for the tenth time, hats off inside the house and put on clean shirts before you come in my kitchen.’
‘Sorry, Annie,’ said Luke, removing his hat and revealing sweaty hat hair. He gave it a scratch with his other hand. ‘Waterpipe broke down the paddock.’
Tom gave him a shove in the direction of the door and the pair of them squeezed back through it together, good-naturedly elbowing and pushing. Jess heard them laughing and wrestling out on the verandah.