‘CAN’T I GO and see Walkabout this afternoon?’ Jess whined. She had been trying on uniforms, picking up books, sorting out her old wardrobe and spring-cleaning her room. She hadn’t ridden Dodger or seen her new friends for three days, and it was sending her crazy.
‘No, darling, your father has grounded you until you apologise to Mr Donaldson,’ her mother answered.
‘But that is so unfair!’ cried Jess. ‘Katrina and Tegan made up a pack of lies. As soon as Mr Donaldson gets back and Mr Arnold talks to him, you’ll understand, and I’ll have been grounded for nothing.’
‘You have not been grounded for nothing,’ said Caroline firmly. ‘You were chasing his cattle without permission. Breeding stock or no breeding stock, you were trespassing.’
‘Why can’t I just apologise over the phone? What if Mr Donaldson decides not to come back from the city this weekend?’
‘Jessica, you are to apologise in person. That is the decent thing to do.’
Jess sulked. ‘Am I at least allowed to exercise Dodger on a lunge rope? He’ll lose all his fitness otherwise.’
‘In one week?’
‘Yes, it’s only six weeks until the campdraft and he’s badly out of shape. I need all the time I can get or he won’t be fit enough. And what about me? I can’t afford to lose a whole week of training, Mum.’
‘Oh, okay. You can lunge him, but don’t you dare get on him,’ said Caroline.
Jess breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
She grabbed a drink and went and sat by the old coachwood tree to speak to Diamond. ‘Dodger is going to help save Walkabout, Dimey, so it is very important that we look after him,’ she explained to the patch of mulga seedlings. ‘So, I might have to let him stay in your stable.’ She knew Diamond would understand. Actually, since getting to know Dodger, Jess had become sure that the two horses would have been quite good friends.
After clearing it with Diamond, she decided to freshen up the lean-to for Dodger. First, she hauled out the old straw and spread it around the veggie patch. Then she pulled out three new bales of straw and fluffed them around. When the stall was perfect, she set about cleaning up the old stock saddle that Harry had lent her. She went over all the stitching with a toothbrush, polished the brass buckles and rubbed its fenders down with glycerine soap. Then, when she had removed the teeniest speck of dirt and grime, she went over it with leather dressing until it was flopsy and supple.
She took Dodger out into the big paddock on a long lunge rope and he trotted and cantered around her, grateful for the company. He soon picked up on her voice commands and she found she could send him over logs and other small jumps. He jumped off the old loading ramp and ran up and down gullies.
When she brought him back to the yard, she spent hours grooming him, giggling at how he waggled his top lip when she rubbed at an itchy spot. He followed her around the yard nibbling at her back pockets while she filled water buckets and picked up poo. One morning when she went down to his stall early, she found him lying down with his legs curled under him and she knelt down next to him and scratched behind his ears. He closed his eyes again and after a few minutes began to snore. Jess had never heard a horse snore before and Dodger woke with a start when she burst out laughing.
But as Monday got closer, no amount of time with Dodger could distract her from thinking about Shara. Would she be there at school, or would she be starting at Canningdale College?
Despite being forewarned, Jess was stunned to find there was no Shara. She had been accepted into the selective high school.
Jess was flattened. Everyone at school but her seemed to already know. Katrina Pettilow told her, in a smirky voice, and called her Nigel-no-mates. Jess wanted to slap her. Twice. Once for the nasty name and a second time for being a dobber. She wished she could go to Rosie and Grace’s school in the neighbouring district. There were heaps more horsey girls in that school. Most of the girls in Jess’s class were surfers or emos, except for Katrina and Tegan. She found it hard to talk to them, even though most of them were friendly enough.
She spent all week lying low and trying to concoct a genuine-sounding apology for Mr Donaldson. At home, she tried to win brownie points by helping with the washing, doing the dishes at the first request rather than the fifth, and by cleaning the bathroom and toilet unasked. She was willing to lower herself to any level to get to that draft. But every time she asked if she was allowed to go, Craig said, ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ He was milking her for all the housework he could get, she was sure.
Friday finally came and Craig drove her to Mr Donaldson’s farm after school. She had never met him before and wasn’t at all sure what to expect. As it turned out, he was in his nineties and seemed confused about exactly who she was and why she was talking about his cattle. When the conversation became a labyrinth of twisted and confused communication, Jess figured she’d done her bit and left him scratching his head outside his front door. She ran back down the driveway to her father, who was waiting in the car.
‘Manage to redeem yourself?’ asked Craig in a stern voice.
Jess pulled a confused face and put her arms in the air. ‘Who knows? He’s a day older than God. I couldn’t understand a word he said!’
Craig looked concerned.
Jess backtracked quickly. ‘Yes! Yes! He’s cool with everything! He’s fine – I told you he would be!’
Her dad seemed to relax a little.
‘Can I have a lift down to Harry’s place now?’ She was absolutely busting to see Wally and catch up with her friends.
‘Yes, I want to meet these people and find out more about this campdraft,’ answered her father.
Craig introduced himself to Harry and, like Jess, was made to feel instantly welcome. There was much handshaking and nodding and talk about tractors and rain. When Harry discovered Craig was a tree-changing ex-accountant and Craig found out Harry was a retired diesel mechanic, they soon realised there was some handy bartering to be done.
‘He’s a sensible bloke,’ Craig commented in the car on the way home. ‘Seems to know a bit about tractors. He’s going to have a go at fixing the PTO on ours. I’ll help him with his books in return.’ He looked chuffed.
‘Is he sensible enough to take me to the draft?’ asked Jess.
Craig cuffed her on the head. ‘Well, what sort of a dad would I be if I didn’t let you at least have a shot at it?’