The number of gates increased as the riders neared the boundary of Hector’s property. Corey dealt with them without dismounting and Leilah piled through, the Kaimanawa sure-footed beneath her. “Why won’t Vaughan like me riding this horse?” Leilah asked as they approached the house, desperate to distract herself from the black cloud of grief descending over her head.
“He’s the only one who rides him.” Corey raised his eyebrows. “I’ll tell him I warned you.”
Leilah narrowed her eyes in warning. “I wouldn’t do that. Not now you’ve spilled Vaughan’s secrets and made me promise not to tell.”
The guileless youth looked conflicted and gnawed on his bottom lip, confused by the unexpected stalemate. Then he grinned. “Ok. We’re quits then.” He jerked his head towards the gelding. “Vaughan bred him from a stallion he had for years. His name was Cooper’s Lad and he sired good quality stock for years. The vet put him down last year when he got too old and started to look miserable. Vaughan walked into his house and slammed the door and I swear the guy cried.”
“Cooper’s Lad.” Leilah mouthed the name of Hector’s best stallion and gripped a lock of the silky mane beneath her fingers. Again the grief rode her, determined to elicit a reaction. Her voice wobbled. “Is this gelding all that’s left of him?”
“Na!” Corey shook his head. “You’re riding Cooper’s Boy but Cooper’s Lad sired some good mares and Vaughan breeds from them. There’s a stallion too; Cooper’s Dream. He’s up in the mountains. Vaughan let him keep a little herd of his own and he’s happy up there. We bring him down at the start of spring and he covers guest mares for a fee.”
“But there’s still no money?” Leilah wiped a tear away before Corey looked back. Hector’s legacy lived and breathed on the slopes of Pirongia, not scattered and gone like she’d spent twenty years believing.
“No. I told ya. Vaughan got sick and we missed last year.”
They dismounted to enter the unkempt garden around Leilah’s childhood home, tying the horses to the rickety fence and leaving them to graze the verge. Corey checked on the cows while Leilah prowled around, climbing the broken steps to the porch and peeking through filthy windows. Her heart ached for her former home and she cried, painful, silent tears of regret. The rose bush Hector planted in memory of his dear wife grew leggy against the dilapidated garage, reaching out clawed fingers to scratch against the caved roof. The leaves looked mildewed and bitten, deprived through lack of care or water and it broke Leilah’s heart. She remembered her father’s deft fingers as he pruned the bush each winter and spoke to it, collecting the fallen rose petals and storing them in a glass bowl on the coffee table in the lounge. Leilah savoured their scent and it reminded her of her father; dried rose petals and horses.
The house built by Great grandfather Dereham hadn’t been touched by a paintbrush for over twenty years and the wood peeled and flaked with neglect under the harsh seasons. Leilah closed her eyes and listened to the sound the porch steps made as she stood on them, alarmed by the sound of cracking underfoot. The dirty windows betrayed a view of the inside, blurred and softened by filth. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Leilah sobbed, drying her tears on the bottom of her shirt. The futile action soaked the material and only made room for more. “I didn’t know what happened until it was too late.” Her words hitched in her chest as hysteria bit and she felt her control ebb. “Vaughan and Tane bought stuff to keep it safe, but I got nothing of you; just a few bits of furniture Michael brought back. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Leilah rocked herself on the step, hugging her knees and burying her face in her thighs.
A breeze blew through the tree tops and created a collective whisper as though the mountain held a hui to decide her fate. The wind whipped up and the draught caressed Leilah’s dark curls, stirring them into a whirl and drying her tears. Leilah felt forgiveness and release and her soul connected with something ethereal. She knew what she needed to do.
Corey sought her out, declaring the herd to be in great shape. “What’s happened?” He squatted next to her, concerned by her tearful, red eyes.
Leilah smiled and leapt up, keen to leave. “I’ve had a revelation,” she declared. “There’s something I need to do.”
The old Dereham house watched its mistress leave; a Dereham daughter galloping downhill on a Dereham horse. It creaked as it straightened its back and pressed its face to the sunshine, the wait finally at an end.