Opal Dreaming (10 page)

11

IT SEEMED HER HEAD
had only just hit the pillow when Jess felt her toe being pulled. The timber floor clunked as Mrs Arnold moved about.

‘Time to get up, girls. Gotta get everybody fed before sun-up,' she said.

Grace was already up and dressed in her noisome jeans, looking as though she'd never been to bed. ‘Come on, Jess,' she said excitedly. ‘If we get brekky done in time, we can help count out the cattle.' She opened the side door and stepped into the darkness. ‘I'll stoke the fire,' she told her mother through the narrow doorway. ‘Will we do the bread in the camp oven?'

Mrs Arnold's homemade bread was legendary. Grace had told Jess how she baked it in a huge cast-iron pot with a lid that she buried in the coals of the fire. It had to be done just right or the crust would burn. When it was done properly, Grace reckoned it was all anyone needed for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Nothing tasted better. Jess had helped make the dough the night before, kneading until her arms nearly fell off. They'd left the silky smooth warm bundles under tea towels for the morning and now she was looking forward to tasting the finished product.

‘I'll be out in a minute, Grace,' said Mrs Arnold. She turned to the others, who were still trying to come to terms with the day. ‘Get dressed and roll up those sleeping bags.' Then she squeezed out the door after her daughter. ‘Where's your father?'

There was a tapping sound on the small curved window of the gooseneck and Rosie rolled over and lifted the curtain. Outside, Stanley Arnold gave a cheeky wave and held his finger to his lips. Rosie giggled. Her dad had been AWOL since they arrived.

As Stanley waved and pulled faces, two hands came from nowhere and wrapped around his throat. His expression quickly changed as Mrs Arnold dragged him away by the neck. ‘Where did you get to last night?' they heard her say.

‘Poor Dad,' said Rosie, giggling. ‘Mum's really going to give it to him.' She fought her way out of the confusion of blankets, pillows and sleeping bags and leapt to the floor. Jess and Shara followed, bumping into each other as they rummaged through their bags in the half-light to find their clothes.

Outside, the camp was still and the air was crisp and cold. Not far away, the cows lay under the small mulga trees inside the break, peacefully chewing their cud. The embers of the previous night's fire glowed softly and a discarded chair lay on its back.

A camping table had been set up just outside the trailer door and under Mrs Arnold's command, Jess set about helping with the bread, stirring the coals into life, mixing milk powder, making tea, and frying eggs and bacon in a cast-iron pan the size of a car tyre. She added some of her mother's mushrooms and cherry tomatoes to the pan. With her hands wrapped in a towel, she took it off the heat and placed it, still sizzling, onto a breadboard on the camping table. She laid some fresh asparagus on top to warm through.

The sleepy orange light of early morning grew stronger and hotter as the camp came to life. Car doors slammed and horses whinnied for their feed. The cattle began to bellow and a thousand birds welcomed the day with their song. The men swung saddles over their mounts and the cattle milled around the end of the break, eager to get out and feed. They'd been on the road for more than a week and knew the routine well. They would feed and graze along the stock route, and water at the designated water point around lunchtime.

One by one, the men gathered hungrily around the table and began helping themselves to breakfast. A small woman in dusty moleskins came over, leading a sooty dun horse. She looked neat and organised, with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail beneath a cap and her shirt tucked in. Her face was deeply tanned and her eyes were liquid black. Two blue Smithfields panted at her heels.

‘Morning. I'm Lindy Wright,' she said, holding out a hand to Jess. ‘Harry and my dad were business partners. They owned Blakely Downs together.'

‘Hi, I'm Jess.' Jess shook the woman's hand. ‘Harry was a friend of mine.'

Lindy scooped an egg and some bacon and mushrooms onto a chunk of bread, avoiding the asparagus. ‘I think I saw you at his funeral. You put the stockhorse tie on his casket, right?'

Jess suddenly recognised her. ‘The black lacy—'

Lindy chuckled. ‘That's one part of Harry's history that he never lived down.'

Jess looked at her questioningly.

‘He did a striptease at a fundraiser for the local fire brigade.' Lindy rolled her eyes. ‘Funniest day of my life. They auctioned the bra afterwards – cost me a week's wages.'

‘He didn't . . .'

‘Came dangerously close,' laughed Lindy. ‘Wasn't pretty.'

Jess grimaced.

‘Lindy!' Rosie squealed and jumped all over the woman like an excited puppy.

Lindy gave her a huge hug. ‘Hi, Rosie!' she said cheerfully. ‘How good is this? Better than sticking them on trucks, ay?'

‘I reckon,' said Grace, muscling in for a hug.

‘Watch my brekky,' Lindy laughed, holding her egg roll up in the air. Rosie and Grace backed off a little but kept chattering excitedly.

‘Thanks for letting us come,' said Rosie.

Lindy smiled. ‘Harry'd be stoked to know you all were out here with his cattle. He took me on this route every year when I was a kid. He was the only bloke in town who'd let a girl ride.'

‘Shame his son's not like that,' Jess blurted without thinking.

‘Hey?'

‘Lawson doesn't let girls do anything.'

‘Lawson does what I tell him to,' said Lindy matter-of-factly.

Rosie whispered in Jess's ear. ‘Lindy's the boss drover. She's got Lawson . . .' She twirled an invisible piece of string around her finger.

Jess stared at the petite woman who reportedly had Lawson Blake wrapped around her little finger. She wondered if that could be true, and if so,
what her secret
was
.

‘Work hard, listen up and learn as much as you can,' said Lindy. ‘If you do a good job and don't complain, Lawson'll give you all the respect you deserve; no more, no less.' She bit into her breakfast. ‘So will I, for that matter.'

Jess listened as Lindy went over last-minute directions with Mrs Arnold, letting her know where the dinner camp would be. She had arranged to water the cattle at a private bore on one of the nearby stations, with easy road access. A little way beyond that was a good clear area with a few trees where the men and cattle could rest for a couple of hours.

‘Hmm, good feed,' Lindy said, licking at her fingers. She nodded to Mrs Arnold. ‘Thanks for coming out, Judy. We'll catch up tonight, ay?'

Judy Arnold smiled warmly. ‘See you later on, love.' It was the first time Jess had seen a softer side of her; towards people, anyway.

Lindy turned and looked at one of the ringers who lurked nearby, his face obscured by his hat. ‘Sun's up, Clarkey,' she said in a mildly annoyed tone. ‘Let's get the cattle out.' She turned her horse and rode out to the cattle.

Four teenage girls stared after her in admiration.

From the corner of her eye, Jess saw Luke running towards the table, the last to come for breakfast. Feeling a sudden pang of weird shyness, she found something that needed tidying inside the trailer, but could still hear him asking, ‘Any breakfast left?'

‘There's some eggs and stuff in the pan,' said Rosie. ‘Bread and tea are over there.'

There was a shuffle just outside and cutlery clinking. A cup was placed on the mudguard and Jess heard tea being poured.

‘Asparagus!' she heard Luke laugh, as though he'd found something unexpected. ‘Did Jess bring that?'

When Jess was sure he would have walked away she peered out the window. Luke had taken the whole pan and was sitting in a fold-out chair with it. His hair was wet and his clothes rumpled but fresh-ish. He looked up and saw her.

‘Nice tips,' he called, waving an asparagus spear.

She bobbed back down, fighting a smile. By the time she emerged from the trailer, he was running back to the horses, the empty frying pan lying on the ground next to his empty chair.

Jess recognised Ryan as he rode towards the camp on a brown bay horse and raised his hat to Mrs Arnold. Through the dust that streaked his long narrow face, Jess could see his resemblance to Annie. ‘Hey, Aunty Jude.'

‘Hey,' said Mrs Arnold. ‘Good to see you out here. You know Jess?'

Jess waved a hand. ‘Hi.' She had heard so much about Ryan, about his drinking, his fights with Lawson, his horse-doping history, that she felt awkward suddenly saying hello to him.

Ryan looked at her as though he couldn't quite place her, but nodded a greeting.

‘How've you been?' Mrs Arnold asked him.

‘Yeah, getting my life together.'

‘Got that demon back in the bottle?'

‘Yeah,' he said sheepishly.

‘Well, you make sure it stays there.'

Ryan turned to the girls. ‘You brats gonna help count out the cattle?'

‘I bags counting,' yelled Grace, taking off at a run towards the cattle.

Rosie, Shara and Jess took off after her.

‘Is this fence switched on?' asked Rosie, slowing as they approached the white tape.

‘No, Ryan switched it off,' said Grace, stopping to tie the lace on her runners.

‘No, he—' began Jess.

But it was too late. Rosie grabbed for the tape to let herself through and shrieked as she was booted six feet across the ground, landing flat on her face alongside a particularly runny cowpat.

Grace collapsed to the ground with hysterical laughter, hands still fixed to her shoelace. ‘You're as thick as a brick, Rosie!'

‘I
hate
you, Grace Arnold!' Rosie screamed as she dragged herself off the ground. ‘
God
, I hate having a sister!
MU-U-UMMM!
' She began running after Grace, who had already taken off. ‘I'm going to
kill
you!'

Still doubled up with laughter, Grace bolted for the last saddled horse. Shara ran after her. They both mounted the grey gelding and rode off double, Rosie screeching after them.

Jess watched with amusement as Lawson intercepted them and sent them straight back to the trailer. ‘Stop spooking the cattle,' he roared at them. ‘Get off that horse and take him back to Bob. We need him as a spare.'

Mrs Arnold walked out and took Grace by the collar, marching her to a stack of dirty dishes. Shara was ordered to help.

‘Just dribble them out slowly,' Jess heard Lawson yelling to Luke and Stan as he rode back to the cattle. ‘Keep those calves mothered up.'

Mrs Arnold sent Jess and Rosie to help Bob unhobble the spare horses and roll up the electric fencing. There were a dozen or so horses, some Jess recognised and some she didn't.

She was glad to see that Walkabout ran free. The filly recognised her instantly and nickered to her as she walked over. Jess pulled bread-crusts from her pocket and held them under the filly's snuffly nose. ‘Hello, my friend,' she said, smiling and rubbing her forehead. ‘Are you having a nice life, running around the outback?'

Walkabout was well over two years old now, ready to be started. As Jess scratched behind the filly's ears, she couldn't help wondering if she'd made the right decision years ago: to let Lawson buy Wally and wait for Marnie's foal. Then she thought of Dodger. There was no way she could have ever sold him to Bob to pay for Wally.

She gave Wally a quick rub and then, noticing that one of the ringers was watching, she moved on to the next horse. Marnie shuffled about in hobbles about twenty metres away and Jess headed in her direction. As she freed the mare's fetlocks, the ringer walked past and said, ‘Nice mare, that one. Lawson's got a real good bunch of horses.' He touched the top of his hat. ‘I'm Dave.'

‘I'm Jess. I've got one of her foals, a chestnut filly.' Jess stood up and buckled the hobbles around Marnie's neck. ‘I called her Opal, she's back at the homestead.'

‘Oh yeah? I thought Lawson owned that one,' said Dave, sounding only mildly interested.

Jess instantly bristled. ‘No, she's mine. Lawson agreed to—' and before she knew it she was telling Dave the whole story of how she gave up Walkabout for Marnie's first foal.

Dave looked at Walkabout and then to Marnie. ‘Either way, you're gonna get a nice horse. Opal's a good name too.'

‘Lawson reckons opals are bad-luck stones,' said Jess.

‘Nah, that's crap,' said Dave. ‘That was made up by diamond traders when opals were first found in Australia. Our opals were such high quality they felt threatened by our trade.'

‘Do you mine opals?'

‘I do a bit of fossicking in my spare time.' Dave began telling her about his opal adventures, to the point of boring her.

Ryan rescued her. ‘You coming, Dave?' he yelled as he rode towards them.

‘On my way,' said Dave, slinging the reins over his horse's head.

‘Hey, Jess,' said Ryan. ‘Lindy asked if you could give Rosie a hand with the fences.'

Jess unhobbled the last horse and went to help Rosie. Together they rolled in what seemed like miles and miles of fencing tape, winding it around a big plastic reel. Rosie bitched and complained about Grace as they went. ‘Mum just lets her get away with it. She never gets told off. I'm so sick of it . . .' They stored the rolls in the trailer and set about pulling out the pegs, carrying them back in armfuls to the camp.

A pile of rolled-up swags lay in a mountain by the trailer, along with pots, buckets, a motorbike, saddles and horse gear. Everything was packed into the trailer according to Mrs Arnold's instructions, and they took a last look around the site to check that they had everything packed up and the fire was out. Mrs Arnold slapped the side of the truck, and her husband closed the driver's side door and began hauling it all away.