THANKS TO RAMBO’S ambling pace, Jess and Grace were able to saddle the other horses, canter through the creek and easily catch up to the big black horse. Mrs Arnold followed at a distance in her old LandCruiser with Filth and Fang chained to the back seat lest they eat wild dog poison. Grace immediately started complaining that she had wanted to ride Rambo.
‘He doesn’t like you,’ said Luke, his feet swinging nonchalantly back and forth by the horse’s sides. ‘He only likes me.’
Jess laughed at Luke’s teasing and Grace shot her a cranky look. ‘Don’t expect me to double him home if the old nag conks out.’
They discovered there was no back fence to the property; farmed land just gradually turned into wilderness. Jess marvelled that Rambo stayed near the house by choice.
‘Well, he is only a gelding,’ said Grace, as though she’d lost interest in him. ‘The wild stallions would probably beat the crap out of him.’
Luke ducked as Rambo carried him under the branch of a tree and began scrambling up a steep track. As the forest got thicker, the track became narrow and windy. Dodger and Legsy fell in behind Rambo. Mrs Arnold’s fourbie roared and pitched and made scratching noises as it brushed through the dense shrubs.
Dodger blew heavily, pushing his shoulders into the climb. Jess gave him to the buckle of her reins and pulled her weight up and off his back. Drawing in mouthfuls of cold, thin air, she looked across wave after wave of tree-covered mountains, split by steep ravines and jagged cliffs. She wondered how anyone could find a brumby, let alone catch one, in that sort of terrain.
Rambo led them along an open ridge-top and then dropped back into a treed gully.
‘I’ll drive along the ridge-top and meet you on the other side,’ called Mrs Arnold from the window of the fourbie. She was clearly frustrated that she couldn’t follow them. ‘If you don’t find me, meet me back here on the ridge in an hour!’
Grace gave her the thumbs up and they continued on through the gum trees, tussocky snow grass and lichen-covered boulders.
As they rode, they discovered that the country was full of wombat holes. On every second rock was a neat deposit of square poo, and beneath every second log there was a burrow entry with a pile of soil beside it. A person would have to be nuts to gallop a horse through this country, thought Jess. It was tough going at a walk.
‘Look! Snow clouds!’ said Luke.
‘How do you know they’re snow clouds?’ asked Grace.
Luke shrugged. ‘I dunno, sounds good.’
Jess looked up. The clouds were thick and purple, unlike any she had seen before, and the air icy. She wondered if Luke was right, subconsciously drawing on some ingrained local wisdom about the weather.
They climbed another ridge and came out onto a four-wheel-drive track, where Mrs Arnold caught up with them. Two long wheel ruts cut through the open wooded hillside, with little sun orchids and slender rice flowers growing amid the grasses.
Jess felt a soft cold fluttering on her cheek, and then another. She looked around her. Was that ash blowing silently through the air? She couldn’t smell smoke, and it was too cold for a fire.
Grace suddenly squealed. ‘Oh my God, it’s snowing!’
Jess caught her breath. She had never seen snow before. The tiny flakes stuck to her clothes and danced magically and weightlessly through the air and among the trees. They landed on her hair and tickled her nose and cheeks. She laughed out loud.
The magic continued until gusts of wind began to rustle the trees. Branches creaked overhead. Jess zipped her coat up around her throat and looked warily at the swaying tree limbs above.
Rambo raised his head and snorted. His pace slowed, then he stopped, and no amount of kicking or urging could make him move. Luke slipped off him and before he could grab the horse’s mane, Rambo turned around and began walking, like a robot, into the wind, straight back to where he’d come from.
‘Hey, don’t just leave me here!’ Luke called after him.
Grace snorted. ‘Guess he doesn’t like the cold. Told you he’d conk out.’
Then Legsy propped as well.
Mrs Arnold jumped out of the fourbie and cast her eyes about. ‘Stallion droppings,’ she said, pointing to a mound of horse poo. Snow whirled over it and settled on top. A short whinny sounded from behind them.
‘Was that Rambo?’ Jess spun around. It was hard to tell which direction it had come from, but she had the strong sensation she was being watched. Dodger trembled beneath her.
Somewhere, a branched snapped. There was a burst of galloping hooves, which abruptly stopped.
‘I don’t think Rambo could move that fast,’ said Grace, gathering up her reins. Legsy began dancing beneath her.
‘Don’t let go of him,’ said Luke, looking worriedly at Grace sitting on his good horse.
‘I’ve got him,’ she assured him.
‘I think we might be in someone else’s territory,’ said Mrs Arnold. But she kept wading through the bush, negotiating logs and tangled thickets.
A horse whinnied again. More branches crashed. There was a drum of hoofbeats, and loud squeals.
‘There’s more than one!’ said Grace, craning her neck around. She struggled to hold Legsy, who started rearing on the spot.
Then Mrs Arnold swore angrily. ‘There! A mare, tied to that tree, look! Bait for the brumbies!’
She quickened her pace, leaping over a trickling creek and scrambling up an embankment.
Without warning, a great brown stallion exploded out of the bushes, causing branches to splinter and snap. He roared savagely and charged towards them.
Grace screamed. Legsy bolted. The stallion thundered after them with its ears back, teeth bared. Legsy carried a shrieking Grace out of Jess’s sight. Suddenly the whole mountain was going crazy.
The stallion wheeled and galloped to the ridge-top. Meanwhile, Dodger began leaping out of Jess’s hands in a way he had never done before. His shoulders trembled.
‘Go back to the car!’ yelled Mrs Arnold.
Jess let Dodger bolt after Legsy and found Grace next to the car, in tears. ‘I thought it was going to kill me!’ she cried. ‘And I’ve lost Legsy!’
Jess dismounted. Next second, Dodger too broke away, tearing the reins from her hands and disappearing down the same track as Rambo. She was shocked but tried to stay upbeat.
‘As long as they don’t go near that mare, they should be okay,’ she puffed, listening to Dodger’s hoofbeats fade. ‘They should just follow Rambo back to Matty’s Creek.’ She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. This was an enormous wilderness to lose a horse in. ‘Where’s Luke?’
Grace pointed to the high branches of a snow gum. Luke clung precariously to an upper limb. ‘He’s safe.’
The girls climbed onto the bonnet of the LandCruiser. Jess felt the metal clunk and buckle under her boots. On the opposite hillside, a lean white mare struggled against a hemp rope tied around her neck. She gave a frightened whinny. Three colts circled her.
‘They’re all fighting over her,’ said Grace. ‘Poor thing, she’s terrified.’
The brown stallion, his pelt covered in battle scars, charged at the colts. He was lathered with froth and sweat, and roaring with fury. But while he hunted one colt away, the others circled closer to the mare.
The stallion returned and chased the other two until finally they retreated.
‘They’re still watching from the hilltop,’ said Grace. She pointed. ‘Look!’
The two colts, one bay, one creamy, paced back and forth along the ridge, tails swishing, never taking their eyes off the mare.
‘This could go on for days,’ said Jess.
The stallion nudged and pushed at the mare, trying to move her, to claim her as his and take her with him, but the rope held her fixed to the tree. The stallion bit at her. He swung his hindquarters and kicked at her with frustration. She gave a pleading squeal.
Fang started growling in the back of the car, then barked loudly. He was a scary sight at full throttle, with huge black jaws and slobber flying everywhere.
‘There are wild dogs circling her too!’ said Mrs Arnold, joining them at the car. She pointed to a dark shadow slinking under a log. ‘We’ve got to untie that mare!’
She stepped up onto the running boards and looked into the treetops. ‘I’ve got a good knife in the glovebox. Luke’ll have to cut the rope.’
‘Cut the rope, are you kidding?’ said Jess. ‘The stallion will kill him.’
Mrs Arnold ignored her and dived into the front of the car. In moments she resurfaced with the knife. Jess watched as she ran to the tree where Luke was perched.
She couldn’t hear the conversation, but she saw Luke clutch the tree limb even tighter. He stared down at Mrs Arnold as though she was nuts. Mrs Arnold thrust the knife towards him.
After frantic gesticulating, she came storming back to the car. ‘Baby Lukey wants us to let his dogs out.’ She wrenched open the back door of the car.
Filth and Fang threw themselves gleefully into the chaos. They bounded after the bachelor colts, whirling around bends and flying over boulders and logs, howling as they went. The colts scattered into the bush.
Luke slipped out of the tree and scrambled across the hillside. He clambered over rocks and ducked under half-fallen trees. He reached the mare and lunged at the rope.
‘Go, Luke!’ whispered Jess as she watched him hack at it.
‘Look out, the stallion!’ Mrs Arnold suddenly screamed. She climbed onto the bonnet of the car and it warped under her weight.
Luke looked up. The stallion bore down on him, teeth bared.
Jess, Grace and Mrs Arnold all jumped up and down, pointing and yelling.
Luke dropped the knife and ran, leaving the mare still tethered.
Fang flew out of nowhere and, with an impressive rush of snarls and woofery, threw himself at the nose of the stallion. It roared in fury and struck out with its front hooves.
Luke dived for shelter under a large fallen tree.
The stallion shook off the dog and charged after Luke. Jess watched aghast while Luke curled into a tiny ball against the trunk and shielded himself against the stallion’s striking hooves.
Fang launched at the stallion’s back legs, snarling savagely. Filth joined him. The noise was horrendous. The stallion spun on them and with his head low, ears pinned, he hunted them back across the hillside.
‘Run, Luke!’ Jess screamed. ‘Run now!’
Luke shot out from under the tree and bolted, tripping and rolling and leaping until he reached the car, climbed in and slammed the door shut behind him. He lay on the back seat, gasping for air.
Jess ripped open the opposite door and found him clutching at his arm. ‘I thought that thing was going to kill you!’ she said.
Luke screwed up his face and looked at the ceiling. ‘I think I broke my wrist again,’ he groaned.
‘Look, look!’ yelled Grace excitedly, stomping more dents into the bonnet. She pointed to the mare. It had broken the last shreds of the half-cut rope and was galloping off into the forest, the brown stallion cantering after her. ‘She’s free!’
‘You did it, Luke!’ said Jess.
‘Now that’s not a bad retirement plan for an old girl,’ said Mrs Arnold, smiling as she watched them disappear over the ridge-top.