WHEN LUKE EVENTUALLY pulled himself out of the river, he jumped back on Legsy and rode further along the river flats. He didn’t want to go home yet. When he passed the back of Lawson’s property, he pulled the colt back to a walk and looked searchingly up through the hill paddock. He wondered if she’d be there, sitting under the mango tree.
Jess. He remembered when he had first came across her. She was the girl he had seen riding over the river flats, on a buckskin appaloosa. The small horse was striking: golden, with a thick black mane and tail, and silver spots all over its rump. The girl rode so easily, often bareback and barefoot. Cantering, always cantering, never walking, so Luke never had an opportunity to ride out across the big grassy stretches and say ‘Hi’ to her.
Then she had turned up at Harry’s place one day with the biggest black eye he had ever seen. He hadn’t recognised her at first. She was riding a bike and trying to hide her face. But he recognised her hair, golden-brown, silky and messy. She was quiet, withdrawn, as if she’d had the spirit knocked out of her.
She too found refuge at Harry’s place, and as she started to heal, Luke watched her downcast eyes gradually become feisty and determined again. Her serious mouth had a one-sided smirk that flashed so quickly across her face you could miss it. He found himself watching for it and sometimes she would catch him, holding his gaze for just a second. But then Grace or Shara would break the moment with a loud yell, an excited suggestion or a pushy demand.
‘Doesn’t matter how much you stare at it,’ he yelled out to Jess now. ‘It’s not gonna grow any faster.’
Jess, wearing an old flanny and jeans, smiled and waved as she jumped up and ran over to the fence. ‘I saw it kicking,’ she called out before she got there. ‘I could see a little hoof popping out the side of her belly. It was so cute!’
‘I still can’t believe you’re getting a foal out of that mare for two hundred bucks,’ he said.
‘Two hundred and forty-six,’ she corrected him.
Lawson’s mare, Marnie, had fallen pregnant to a runaway stallion one crazy night in the outback, months ago. The horses had all escaped from a campdraft, and everyone had gone out looking for them. But only he and Jess had seen the min min lights – three of them, appearing out of nowhere and buzzing around the mares.
Jess reckoned they were spirits, ghosts, or some crazy mixed-up stuff to do with her first horse, Diamond, who had been destroyed after an accident. When she saw those lights seemingly disappear into Marnie’s belly, she was convinced that Diamond had been reincarnated. She persuaded Lawson to sell her the foal for a pittance. And ever since, she’d been walking on sunshine.
‘Hoping for a filly or a colt?’ asked Luke.
‘A filly,’ Jess said, ‘so I can breed from her one day.’
‘Then you can spend another year sitting under a tree,’ he teased.
Jess spent hours sitting under that mango tree staring at the mares – whole days, in fact. She had beaten a track along the river flats to Lawson’s property to visit her favourite horse, Wally, and to check on Marnie’s belly size. The mare wasn’t due for weeks yet but it was all Jess ever talked about.
She took a swipe at Luke’s foot and laughed. ‘I like watching them. Anyway, I don’t have a horse to ride. Dodger’s foot still isn’t right.’
‘You know you can ride any of Harry’s horses.’
‘How is he?’
‘Who, Harry?’ Luke looked down. ‘Not good. Tired. Cranky.’
‘How about Annie?’
Luke just shrugged. ‘Wanna come for a ride?’ He gestured at Legsy’s rump.
‘Where to?’
Luke thought about it. ‘Mossy Mountain?’ It was the biggest mountain in the district, with a winding trail through palm forests and fern-covered cliffs. It took two hours to ride to the top. The view was amazing.
‘Does he double?’
‘Dunno,’ Luke grinned, ‘only one way to find out.’
‘What if he bucks?’
‘I s’pose we’ll fall off.’
Jess climbed through the fence. ‘I’m game.’
He held out an arm, and she grabbed it, springing up behind him. Legsy instantly lurched sideways. Jess squealed and clung to Luke’s waist, nearly dragging him off.
‘Get your feet out of his flanks,’ he said, pulling the colt around.
‘They’re not in his flanks,’ cried Jess.
‘We just got to get him used to us both. Give him a pat on the rump.’
Jess leaned back and gave the colt a loud slap on the rump, making him startle and jump forwards. ‘Whoa!’ she screamed.
‘Not like that!’ said Luke, grabbing at Legsy’s reins.
‘I thought this horse doubled,’ laughed Jess.
‘I thought you could ride!’ he answered.
‘Who told you that? It’s a vicious lie!’
He felt two hands push into his back, then turned to see her somersaulting backwards over Legsy’s rump and landing on her feet on the ground.
‘Yeah, right.’ Jess could ride all right. She was small and agile and brilliant at vaulting; she’d ridden in mounted games with her best friend Shara for years. Luke could tell she was stirring Legsy up on purpose.
‘Try again?’ she asked, climbing up onto the fence. ‘Back him up.’
Luke reined Legsy’s rump towards the fence. Jess patted him, more gently this time. ‘Easy, fella.’
Legsy snorted and shifted about, unsure.
‘Gee, he’s nervous,’ said Jess. ‘Who broke him in? They did a crap job.’
‘Me,’ said Luke, indignant. ‘You getting on, or you just gonna do clown tricks all day?’
Jess leapfrogged onto Legsy’s rump and wriggled up onto his back.
Luke let the colt’s head go, and they set off towards Mossy Mountain.
As they passed the Pettilow property, Legsy began nickering and prancing about beneath them. He let out a loud squeal. Out beyond the trees a brilliant white horse grazed along the river flats.
‘Chelpie’s out again,’ said Luke. He had lost count of how many times he’d come across the mare and led her back to Katrina Pettilow’s place. He had even fixed the fence a couple of times, without so much as a thank you from the Pettilows.
‘She’s always out,’ said Jess. ‘If I had my phone on me, I’d ring the ranger.’
‘She just wants some green-pick,’ said Luke. ‘There’s hardly any grass in her paddock, poor thing.’
‘Katrina should look after her better,’ said Jess. ‘Look at her big wormy belly. She needs a good stomach-drench.’ He felt Jess shudder behind him. ‘Ugh, she’s so . . . nasty, and weird. I don’t know what it is about her.’
Like Jess, Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about Chelpie. She was always on the outer. Other horses didn’t like her and she didn’t like them. But he had a soft spot for the little mare.
‘She’s been nicer lately,’ he said, wondering what had brought about the change in the little horse. Maybe she just liked having so much grass to eat. ‘She came up for a pat when I rode past the other day.’
‘Yeah, well, she better not come near me,’ said Jess.
‘You hate her too.’
‘She killed my horse, what do you expect?’
It was true. Chelpie had chased Jess’s horse, Diamond, into a cattle grid and got her killed. Jess had every right to hate the mare.
‘May as well leave her there,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘She’ll only get out again.’
‘Let’s ride up along the creek.’ Jess reached through from behind and took one of the reins. She turned Legsy back towards the river. ‘We can swim at Hell’s Hole on the way.’
They left Chelpie and followed the creek up a cool gully, through low-growing ferns. The colt’s hooves sank into wet sand as they followed a narrow track along the side of the creek, ducked under low-hanging branches and squeezed through narrow passes. In some sections of the creek, they crossed wide flat stretches of river pebbles; in others they waded through deeper water. Then they left the creek and traversed the side of a mountain, scrambling over rocks and crossing fallen trees covered in moss. As they climbed the hill, the trees became smaller and the forest more open.
They rode in silence. It was like that with Jess. She and Luke seemed to slip so easily into the same rhythm and pace. When she was around, Luke found the world an easy place to be.
At the top, they came to a clearing and stopped. The view caught Luke’s breath every time. Dark gullies and mountains tumbled down into the valley, which was green and wide and flat. The Coachwood River, like a long ribbon, coiled and slithered in big loops, carrying life to the bordering properties. Farms, patched in all sizes and shapes, ran along the sides of the valley for as far as the eye could see.
‘There’s my place,’ said Jess, pointing west along the valley. ‘Dad’s slashing the paddock – look, I can see him!’ She waved and laughed. ‘Hi, Dad!’
Luke looked out over Coachwood Valley. It was the first place in his life that had ever felt like home – the people, the different farms, the little bunch of shops and the huge freight trains that rattled through so often he barely noticed them anymore.
‘There’s mine,’ he said, pointing in the other direction. Harry’s place was easy to see: a perfect rectangle, cut into neat paddocks.
But it didn’t look right. There were cars all around the house. Lawson’s ute, Ryan’s truck, Mrs Arnold’s four-wheel drive, an ambulance, two other cars he didn’t recognise. They were parked at strange angles all over the front grassy stretch, as if they’d pulled up in a hurry. Stanley Arnold’s little brumby ute drove in and Luke could see him running towards the house.
The day around him went still.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he said.