Race Girl (12 page)

‘Who?'

‘Your family and the ‘Royal' Westons.'

Tully shook her head, hugged her pillow. ‘I remember bits and pieces,' Tully said. ‘From the stories Mum told me when I was little . . . the Westons don't retire their horses, like we do. They don't even
try
to find many of them new homes, they just get shipped to the doggers. My grandfather started Avalon on the principle that the horses would come first, for their whole life – not just when they were on the track and in the money. He may not have been a rich man, but he developed horses that had long, illustrious careers. He was very well respected and loved. Just like Mum was.'

Tam smiled sadly. ‘Your dad's struggling, eh.' It was more of a statement than a question.

Tully gritted her teeth and raised her eyebrows, as her father's harsh words from their fight over Dahlia clattered through her mind. ‘He seems to be getting worse.'

‘I can't imagine what it's been like for him,' Tam said. ‘But he does need to get on with it. And this rivalry with the Westons – I can understand it, but your mum never seemed to let it bother her too much. Why is it so different for your dad?'

Tully sighed, shaking her head. ‘Old Mr. Weston and pops never got on either, apparently. Mum told me that nana spent a few years living across the road, with old Mr. Weston.'

‘The minx!' Tam cried. ‘No way.'

‘She was a fiery Italian—all passion, and a killer jockey. She was one of the first female jockeys in the country, the best of her generation. But Mum and Dad never had problems like my grandparents did – in their relationship, I mean.'

Tam nodded gravely. Dahlia and Gerald were high school sweet hearts, everyone knew it. Tully had never seen anyone more in love than her parents – they'd been the perfect team.

Her heart stung, and she squeezed her pillow. ‘Mum said nana's affair didn't last long, though,' she continued, ‘Her and pops were happily married for another forty years afterwards.'

‘Just needed to get it out of her system, hey?' Tam giggled. ‘You never think oldies will go there . . .'

‘Something like that,' Tully grinned in reluctant agreement. ‘We've been at odds for decades, but it's even more personal for Dad. Apparently it started even before school for Dad and Mr. Weston. Dad came from a really poor family in town, a family who were always jealous of ‘the richies' who had so much more than them. I guess it's hard for kids to have anything but hatred for someone when their parents are on about it all the time.'

Tam thought for a moment, then snuggled in close. ‘Tru-dat,' she said. ‘Mum hates Kath and Kim. I mean, they
seriously
irritate the crap out of her, and now I feel like I'm missing out on these great Aussie icons because I just can't get into them.'

‘Oh, my Lord!' Tully rolled her eyes. ‘You know it's not the same.'

‘Had to lighten the at-mos somehow.' Tam grinned. ‘Want some more choccy?'

Tully sighed, then put two fingers over her wrist like she was checking her pulse. ‘Am I breathing?!' They giggled together. ‘Thanks for talking to me, Tim-Tam. I feel like you're the only person I can talk to about anything.'

‘What're besties for, eh?'

Tully smiled. ‘I can't wait to go riding with you tomorrow.'

11

A Western Lope

Tully squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes as they approached Tam's paddocks the next morning. They'd slept in and Tully was groggy and blinded by the light of day – she normally enjoyed dawn and the sunrise before being assaulted by the sun's heat. Judging by the sizzling on her arms and legs and the weight of the air, today was going to be a scorcher.

As she made her way hazily through the garden and across the back yard to the paddocks, Tully had to blink to confirm what she was seeing was real.
Yep
, the strange horse was still there in front of her. He must have strayed from home, she supposed. A tall bay thoroughbred, a scaled up version of Dahlia, munched on a flake of hay in the nearest corner of the closest paddock.

Tully glanced back over her shoulder, a familiar feeling of panic gripping her chest. She cursed herself for forgetting in all the girly banter of last night that she hadn't checked in with Grace. ‘Sorry, Tam,' she said, sprinting back to the house. ‘Be right back!'

She found her phone in her school bag that she'd packed for the night and dialled Avalon's office number. Grace answered on the second ring, and said Dahlia was doing splendidly; enjoying her second breakfast. Tully let out a long breath, then studied a pic of Dahlia she'd snapped on her phone, before jogging back out to Tam. ‘Sorry,' she said, pointing at the bay. ‘Who is this?'

‘Thought I'd give him a go 'round the barrels.' Tam spun around and raised an eyebrow. ‘Nah—Mum's just become a foster carer for horse-welfare charity, Equine Action Queensland.' The girls walked over to his paddock and the horse raised his lovely bold face, walking right up to them.

‘This is Ziggy,' Tam said, stroking the bay on the nose, then grabbing his neck in a bear hug.

‘Wow—hey, mate,' Tully said, pulling a carrot out of her back pocket and breaking it in half. Tam had leant her a pair of old sparkly jeans and a pink button down shirt with a white collar. Tully had slipped her phone into her jeans' pocket for their ride just in case anyone from home needed her. ‘Aren't
you
a handsome dude.'

The gleaming thoroughbred chomped up the carrot gratefully. Judy joined them at the rail and Ziggy nuzzled her affectionately and stopped chewing for a moment, looking deep into her eyes with love and a deep appreciation.

How beautiful
, Tully thought, a warm fuzziness sweeping over her, settling in the soft smile on her lips. She loved being here, but she couldn't wait to get home to Dahlia.

‘He's my first charge,' Judy said, giving Ziggy a rub behind the ears. ‘He's been with the group for about nine months, and he's ready for adoption now—but I don't know if I'll be able to let him go.' She paused and a dark shadow drifted across her face. ‘Ziggy is an off-the-track thoroughbred. He suffered an injury to his off-hind leg, and was bought off the track by a person who wasn't able to look after him . . . There is so much wastage in your industry, I'm afraid, Tullsey.'

‘Wastage?' Tully had never heard the term before.

Judy shook her head and reached down to slip Ziggy another flake of hay. ‘I'm sure you know that thousands of horses – about 70 percent of the twelve to fourteen thousand thoroughbred foals born every year here in Australia alone – never make it to the track.'

Tully nodded gravely. ‘A lot of horses get injured, or just aren't fast enough. That's why we retire our own horses,
and
try our best to find them new homes so they can still enjoy a quality of life in a different discipline, or for pleasure riding—'

‘Even when they're not profitable,' Judy said. ‘There are a lot of lovely trainers, like you and your family, Tully, who love the horses and treat them with the utmost care and respect. But there
are
trainers who aren't like you – some can't afford to retire their horses, or don't have the facilities to do so.'

‘Or some are like the Westons.'

‘What's profitable often wins out over what's right in this world, Tully,' Judy said. ‘Thousands of unwanted horses every year in Australia are shipped to the doggers to be made into dog food, or to one of the two regulated abattoirs that specifically process horse meat for human consumption in Japan and parts of Europe. It's terrible; the conditions the horses are slaughtered in by the doggers – absolutely horrendous. They're starved and neglected, truly terrified . . .' Judy took a deep breath before continuing, ‘Then taken to the kill pens, shot
in front
of each other and hacked to bits.'

Tully's eyes went wide and she shuddered, goosebumps prickling her arms and legs. She swallowed hard and stroked the lovely bay's neck. Ziggy was super sweet, nuzzling her and giving her whiskery kisses, even though she didn't have any more carrot to give him.

I'm so glad we saved Dahlia!

‘I've heard about some of that . . .' Tully said slowly, her stomach knotting at the thought of those poor horses. ‘But, surely things are getting better these days, aren't they, Mrs. T?' she said. ‘Isn't the RSPCA stepping in and saving more horses before they're shipped?'

‘There
are
amazing organisations like the RSPCA and EAQ doing great work, as well as many making great strides to repurpose ex-racehorses horses for other equine sports. Thoroughbreds excel in so many disciplines! But the racing industry needs to be held to account before there will be any real change. Horses are too young to start racing at two; their bones and minds aren't developed enough. Overbreeding is also a massive problem. And if the racing industry gave just one percent of its $14 billion annual turnover it would go a long way to looking after racehorses in their retirement. The
people
need to make them stop and listen, and the laws
need
to change.'

‘Aren't there laws to protect the horses?'

Judy shook her head and huffed with annoyance, stroking Ziggy's soft face. ‘Horses are classed as ‘Livestock' and at present there is no real legislation, or minimum standards and practices governing horses. There is for
cows and sheep
, but nothing for horses . . . It is a long, sad story . . . Unfortunately, Australia is a long ways behind other nations in regards to horse treatment. If there is one animal that has been completely let down by the Government here, it's the horse.' Ziggy dropped his nose into Judy's hand, nuzzling her gently, closing his eyes with pleasure. Judy turned away and swiped a finger across her cheek, before taking a deep breath and laughing bitterly. ‘Some repayment for all their contribution into making this nation great.'

‘God . . .' Tully shook her head and rocked back on her heels, studying the lovely bay in front of her.
Does
he
deserve to be considered ‘wastage'?
She thought.
Do so many horses like him deserve to be murdered before they reach the age of five or six – even some as young as yearlings – just because their racing careers haven't panned out the way their breeders and owners planned?

‘I want to help,' Tully said suddenly, straightening her shoulders. ‘Maybe, if I can make it to senior jockey and win some major races, then people will listen to me?'

‘
I
already listen to ya,' Tam said, appearing behind her with a heavy Western saddle and a Navajo pad, a girth with a sheepskin underbelly and a silver-plated bridle in her arms. She thrust them at Tully. ‘Think you can remember how to saddle up one of mine?'

Judy smiled warmly and patted Tully on the shoulder. ‘Bless you, love,' she said. ‘You saved your filly! And you're already helping immensely by being aware, and doing the right thing for your horses. I'm hoping to re-purpose more off-the-track thoroughbreds myself. OTTB's make amazing pleasure or sport horses in a range of disciplines, as you already know from riding yours. But just let me know if you ever want any more information, or anything, okay?'

Tully smiled at Mrs. Thompson and gave Ziggy one last pat on the neck, and a hug when the gorgeous boy brought his head around, pressing his jaw to her cheek. She squeezed him extra tight, then glanced back as she followed Tam around to the stables. His eyes lit up and he pricked his ears forward. Tully felt herself beaming as she waved goodbye and blew him a kiss.

Tully had to keep shaking her head to force the terrifying images away as her mind whirled around and around what Mrs. Thompson had told her.
So, is
that
what would've happened to Dahlia if we hadn't found her?
She had a bad feeling the answer was
yes.

Being at the Thompsons' and in the presence of such happy, healthy horses did help, however, and once she'd groomed and tacked up the lovely palomino, Elsa, and swung herself up into the huge comfy saddle, Tully was feeling more at ease and hopeful about the day.