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Cynthia pulled up at the end of the long dusty road and checked that the bigger road was clear.
‘That’s one heck of a long driveway,’ chuckled Lucy, ‘Eek, and soon we’ll be winding our way down Carruthers’ Pass.’
Cynthia shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s not too steep and winding. I guess when you’ve lived here as long as I have you don’t notice the distance or the steepness of some of the terrain. You adjust to this kind of life, Lucy.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Yeah, I reckon I could get used to it! Like, I couldn’t actually imagine anywhere better than White Cloud Station with all its beautiful horses! Gosh, those ones Mike’s been working are so beautiful too. I would be happy to live somewhere like this all on my own. Well, not exactly on my own, like, just heaps of horses and me.’
‘Like Agatha . . .’ Cynthia trailed off as she concentrated on making sure the road was clear before taking the southern fork into the Pass.
Lucy rummaged through her shoulder bag. ‘Would you like gum or a barley sugar to stop your ears popping?’ she asked, pulling one out of the box. ‘Barley sugar, thank you, dear. Can you unwrap it for me, please?’ She pulled down the sun visor to stop the rays of sunlight momentarily blinding her as they pierced through the forest canopy.
Lucy put the barley sugars back in her bag and pulled down her own sun visor, checking her hair in the little mirror. Playing with some annoying strands of her fringe, she said, ‘I can’t wait to get my hair done, either!’ She put on her sunglasses.
Cynthia smiled but was more focused on changing down a gear as they descended the steep winding road.
‘Who’s this? And why are they flashing their lights?’ Cynthia asked as she caught sight of the large horse coach heading towards them.
‘Cor, looks pretty blimmin’ flash, whoever it is,’ exclaimed Lucy, leaning forward as it passed.
‘Oh, silly me. Of course, it’s Peter Smith, our local pony club president . . .’
Cynthia changed up a gear as the road levelled out before the next rise. ‘Peter will be heading to White Cloud to collect those five horses he bought from us.’
‘Wow, he’s not wasting any time collecting them,’ Lucy said as she looked back to see the horse coach disappear around the tight bend.
Cynthia concentrated on the bend and again they climbed high into the hills. The tall pines towered on both sides of the narrow road and now shaded them completely.
‘So Mike sold the five?’ Lucy asked as she looked at the tall trees. ‘I felt so bad, like, I was so wrapped up in myself and Hope at morning tea time that I didn’t even ask him. Now how selfish is that?’
Cynthia looked at Lucy and chuckled. ‘I’m sure Mike understood. He knows this trip is very important to you.’
‘Yes, but five. That is just so cool!’
‘Yes, Peter, or his team of riders, will be training them for eventing with the prospect of reaching the overseas market. Mike said Peter’s put in more advance orders too, so it looks like there’s going to be a big demand for our White Cloud Stationbreds.’
‘Wow!’ Lucy’s eyes rounded.
‘Yes, wow is right, Lucy. It means some pretty good income for the station.’
‘I won’t be too cheeky and ask how much,’ giggled Lucy.
Cynthia raised her eyebrows. ‘Let’s just say it’s a considerable amount and it’s eased the financial burden for the moment.’
‘Some thanks must go to the White Cloud Flyers then, right? Like, if it wasn’t for our team doing so well at the big event, Peter wouldn’t really have taken much of an interest in the White Cloud horses, at all.’ Lucy beamed. ‘At least we’ve helped in a way. Haven’t we?’ She asked hopefully, conscious that she and Alexa had also caused the Phillips family a fair share of headaches in the past. It seemed whenever they ventured out on their own they got into trouble. First Alexa deciding she’d go caving on her own, causing not only her own family but also her friends and the Phillipses to worry themselves silly when she got lost. And then, of course, there was her own accident. Anyhow, she was relieved all of that was behind them. Just then Cynthia interrupted her thoughts.
‘Of course! You girls might have caused us a little grief at times,’ laughed Cynthia, ‘but not only did the team make the station proud, it generated interest in our horses! So you’re right, we owe a debt of gratitude to you girls. News travels fast, especially in the horse world – we’ve been inundated with enquiries.’
‘Well, they’re not just any horses!’ agreed Lucy. ‘They’re such a versatile breed, like, they’ve got good conformation and yet they are so pretty, you can show them. They are well boned, strong, athletic, with heaps of stamina needed for eventing. And as for show jumping . . .’ she took a breath, ‘and they’re quiet enough for pony clubbers and then of course there’s the western arena. And although I’ve had only a few placings in the ring – I’m out to show just how good they can be! Dad is keen for me to go to some shows, you realise that’s why he built me that beautiful horse coach, like I don’t consider myself spoilt, it’s what he does for a living and I guess—’ Lucy was on a roll.
‘You’re right, Lucy,’ Cynthia interrupted, ‘our horses are suitable for a variety of disciplines and activities.’
Cynthia pulled over and stopped at the top of the summit. She pointed to a side road. ‘That’s the private road that leads up to Winding River Station. That narrow road winds all the way down to much flatter terrain. Fascinating countryside this, with all its back roads.’
‘Oh, that’s where Grandma grew up, isn’t it?’ Lucy asked.
‘That’s right, and the Carruthers family still owns it. I was saying earlier about Agatha?’
‘Oh yeah, that’s right ... Agatha ... she seems a bit of a mysterious character?’ Intrigued, Lucy raised her eyebrows, encouraging Cynthia on.
‘Yes, that’s one way of describing her . . .’ Cynthia pulled out onto the road and they headed downhill towards the main road leading directly to the village. ‘Yes, old Agatha Carruthers still lives there. She’s well in her 70s now and living up there in the big house on her own. Well, part of the big house. It’s a bit run down now – a shame really, it was a fine house in its day. It has 20 rooms, imagine that. Agatha is a spinster and lives there all alone, just her and her horses and other animals.’
‘Ohhh, that’s sad, she must be very lonely?’
‘Well, apparently not. She’s alone but not lonely and there’s a difference, Lucy. She’s chosen to live alone. She’s a pretty amazing old woman. Does the stock work herself, although they say she’s slowing up a bit now.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, she’s up at the crack of dawn out checking the sheep and cattle, not to mention her great team of horses! Now if you ever need an opinion on a horse, she’s the one to ask. She has shepherds and shearers who come in the season and they stay in the shearers’ accommodation.’ Cynthia laughed. ‘It’s flasher than where Agatha lives actually.’
‘I thought Grandma Phillips was brought up in a big, kind of posh, house before she married Grandad . . .’ said Lucy, piecing it all together.
‘Well, they do, or should I say did. Agatha closed most of it up and lives in the east wing. I’ll see if I can take you there one day – it’s worth seeing. Rumour has it it’s haunted, but I’m not so sure about that . . .’
‘Eek!’ Lucy gaped. ‘Do you believe in that sort of thing, Cynthia?’
‘I guess on some levels, I do. I believe there’s certainly an energy around us and—’
Lucy interrupted, ‘Ohhh, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it!’ Her eyes lit up. ‘But I’d love to visit her sometime and see the old house. It sounds awesome really!’
Cynthia turned onto Bounty Road. ‘Well, we can only try. She’s a bit of a recluse is our Agatha. So different to her sister Kathryn, I mean Grandma Phillips.’
Lucy giggled. ‘Is she a funny old duck? Oops, not Grandma! I mean Agatha?’
Cynthia shrugged her shoulders and laughed along with Lucy, who was very chirpy today, she noticed.
‘I guess that’s one way of describing her,’ she replied. ‘ I would call her eccentric and extremely talented. She’s an incredible artist, her paintings are truly exceptional. She did that beautiful painting of her sister . . . you know, Lucy, the one of Kathryn when she was not much older than you—’
‘Wow, that big one at the top of the landing at the home- stead?’ Lucy asked. ‘The one where Grandma is, like, about 18, wearing Suzy’s turquoise necklace?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. Her house is full of family heirlooms and paintings. The thing is, she doesn’t like visitors or having family over even. She hunkers down for the winter and we don’t very often hear from her. And it’s too bad if that river comes up. You can’t get to her at all if it floods. Grandad and Grandma call her occasionally just to make sure she’s okay, but apart from that she’s pretty much left to herself.’ They continued along Bounty Road. The valley widened and the terrain changed from pine trees to open fields with farm animals grazing.
‘So she, like, never married or had kids?’
‘Correct. There’s just her and her animals. She’s got her horses and a team of working dogs. When Kathryn and Agatha’s parents passed away, the station was left to the two girls. Grandma had enough on her plate helping run White Cloud Station so she and Grandad decided to let Agatha stay on at Winding River Station.’
‘She must be a pretty gutsy lady all the same, to run a huge farm on her own most of the year. It’d be cool to meet her . . .’ ‘Well, one thing is for sure, Lucy – she certainly shares your love of horses. She’s been a great horsewoman in her time.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘She’s tamed many a wild horse that’s gone on to be a very good horse. In fact most of the Carruthers family have been pretty handy around horses. Take Grandma, she was a very good rider. She could stick to a horse like glue, nothing would unseat Grandma, even a horse like old Goldie. Goldie was a palomino mare; she was a bit of an old tart actually, used to buck anyone off who tried to ride her, and talk about bite! She’d bite some people and not others. She never dared to bite or kick Grandma. One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that it’s strange the way horses react differently to certain people.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve seen that also. They’re a lot more intelligent than people give them credit for, aren’t they?’
Cynthia nodded in agreement as they sped along the wide road. ‘Of course, we humans can be a bit narrow-minded when it comes to things like this . . . we may be inclined to judge horses’ intelligence in human terms. Horses are exceptionally intelligent when it comes to their survival.’
‘Yes, I agree, and some people say they’re flighty when all they’re doing is being ultra clever and doing what they’re designed to do and that is to look after themselves and outwit, or should I say outrun, a predator. It would be a pretty dumb horse that just stood there waiting for a predator to attack them wouldn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, I guess that’s right, Lucy.’
Green paddocks lined each side and Lucy noticed some cows grazing on the long lush grass. She looked ahead and saw the sign, ‘Hey, Mountain View Village is 30 kilometres away. Not far now!’ She clenched her fists in excitement. ‘I can’t wait . . .’
‘I know,’ smiled Cynthia, ‘about half an hour and we’ll be there.’