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.
Grace screwed up her nose. ‘Why do boys always like touching each other so much?’
Jess helped carry the plates of food out to the verandah. There were eggs, bacon and sausages, fresh fruit and some homemade fig and almond bread. Jess planned on attacking the bread first. It smelled heavenly. She eyed some butter that also looked homemade.
I should bring Annie some of our organic corn next Sunday to make some fritters. And some goat’s milk. And some tomatoes. Nah, she probably has heaps of her own tomatoes. Bet she doesn’t grow asparagus. I’ll bring her some of that . . .
Before long everyone was sitting at the table, fuelling themselves for the day ahead.
As Jess ate, she turned to Rosie. ‘You should have seen Walkabout this morning.’ The others joined in and soon they were all talking about foals and horses and planning the day ahead.
Once the dishes were done, they headed back down to the stables and began saddling up.
‘Could you do me a favour, Jess?’ Harry asked, as he limped alongside her. ‘I’ve gotta try to teach that Katrina girl to campdraft.’ He sounded noticeably lukewarm about the idea. ‘Totally wrong horse for drafting. It spooks the cattle. Something weird about it, can’t put my finger on it.’ He frowned and shook his head. ‘She should keep that horse in the showring where it belongs.’
‘How can I help?’ asked Jess.
‘My son’s coming over in a minute to put some new shoes on Biyanga,’ Harry continued. ‘Could you hold the horse for Lawson while I give Katrina a riding lesson?’
That gun-toting freak was Harry’s son?
For the second time that morning, Jess was speechless.
Lawson Blake pulled a beaten felt hat down over his eyes as he stepped out of a shiny new truck. He walked to the back of the tray and acknowledged his father with a nod as he buckled leather chaps around his waist.
Jess stood by, holding Biyanga. She had never seen Lawson close up. He was surprisingly young. She reckoned he must be in his late twenties, which left her wondering just how old Harry was. Lawson was tall and fit-looking, but had the same unfortunate lumpy nose as his father.
Harry nodded to his son. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Busy as a cat burying its business,’ Lawson answered, letting it be known he wasn’t there for small talk. Without even noticing Jess, he turned to a large toolbox and began rummaging for the right tools. And then, with a pair of pincers and a rasp in one hand, he pointed to a concrete slab beside the stables and commanded, ‘Stand him over there.’
Charming as ever.
Jess did as she was told.
Without ceremony, Lawson got to work on the stallion’s feet, snipping off the clenches on the outer hoof and pulling the old steel shoes away. He fired up a gas furnace on the back of the truck and tossed a blank shoe into it. When it was glowing red hot he banged it into shape. Jess watched as he pressed the hot shoe to Biyanga’s foot, smoke billowing from the hoof’s horny outer rim. It left a black mark, indicating where it sat perfectly flush with the hoof.
Lawson nailed the shoes on, giving six perfectly timed taps of the hammer for each nail. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. He flipped the hammer in his hand and used the claws to twist off the protruding points, then stretched the horse’s leg forward and, resting it on his knee, bent the clenches over. All this he did in one fluid motion, moving from one step to the next in a series of effortless transitions.
The job was completed in silence. Lawson stopped only briefly with a curt ‘Should never pat another man’s dog, mate,’ when Jess gave his wriggly blue pup a scratch. He grabbed the pup by the scruff of the neck and tossed it back onto the truck.
As Lawson let the fourth neatly shod hoof fall back to the ground, he looked at Grunter, whose head was in a nearby feedbin. ‘That pig oughta be slaughtered by now,’ he said, as he unbuckled his chaps and threw his tools into a bucket. He strode towards Grunter, who snuffled about, oblivious to the danger coming towards him.
Lawson made a grab for his hind leg and the pig let out an indignant squeal. As quickly and as fluidly as he had shod the horse, Lawson straddled the animal and hogtied it. Jess watched in horror as he brought a knife out from his back pocket and flicked it open.
‘No, wait!’ she screamed, dropping Biyanga’s lead rope. ‘I don’t think . . . I mean . . . Harry!’ she yelled, in a panic.
Lawson laughed. ‘What’s the matter, never seen a pig’s throat cut before?’
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,’ Jess stammered. ‘He . . . it . . . that’s Grunter.’
Lawson roared with laughter. He looked down at the struggling pig and gave it a shove on the shoulder with his foot. ‘G’day, Grunter!’
From behind her, Harry spoke. ‘Crikey, Lawson, leave the poor kid alone!’ He glared at his son. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
Lawson wiped his hands on his jeans and took a step back. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he sniffed, closing the knife and placing it back in his pocket. ‘Want me to do this pig for you or what? I’ve got some beef hanging in the coolroom at home. I can hang this one at the same time, if you want.’
‘Nah, I’m not gonna eat this one. He’s Biyanga’s stablemate now. He’s good to have along at the drafts. Keeps the stallion settled.’
Lawson dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes in disbelief. ‘You’re joking, aren’t ya?’ he shook his head. ‘It’s because Ryan gave it to you, isn’t it? Now you think you can’t slaughter it.’
‘Give it a rest, Lawson. He’s your brother.’
‘He is not my brother. Just because you wanted to adopt him doesn’t mean I ever had to.’
‘Let the pig go, Lawson.’ Harry turned and walked away.
Lawson watched him walk back to the stables and then turned to Jess. ‘Go get the gate for me, kid,’ he said in a gruff voice. Only then did he seem to register who she was. He faltered very briefly, then bent down and cut the rope from around the pig’s legs. He gave it a swift kick. Grunter scrambled to his feet and scampered away, squealing noisily.
As Lawson drove through the gate, he stuck his head out the window. ‘Tell the old man I’ll come over during the week and have a look at those foals.’ And without so much as a goodbye, he spun his wheels in the gravel and took off out of the driveway.