Opal Dreaming (4 page)

‘Oh, she got out, did she?' Mrs Pettilow interrupted. ‘Sure you didn't
let
her out?'

‘Pardon?'

‘Someone saw you handling our horse by the fence, Jessica, so don't bother ringing up with a pack of lies about her getting out,' said Mrs Pettilow. ‘Ever since you lost that pony of yours in the cattle grid, you've been trying to blame Chelpie. You tried to lure her down to that same grid with that young filly today, didn't you? Of all the cruel things to do, to take it out on an innocent animal.'

‘
Cruel?
' Jess couldn't believe her ears. ‘Chelpie nearly got my foal killed. Did your neighbour tell you that bit?'

‘See!' said Mrs Pettilow. ‘Here you go blaming Chelpie for your own carelessness again. You had a young horse with no halter on, running around the river flats and now that something's gone wrong, you're looking for someone else to blame.'

‘But—'

‘Chelpie is an extremely valuable horse; we hand-raised her from when she was a tiny foal and if anything's happened to her, I'll be sending you the vet bill. You need to be a lot more responsible with your horses, Jessica Fairley!'

Jess listened open-mouthed to the mad monologue on the other end of the line. Valuable? Why didn't the Pettilows look after Chelpie better if she was so valuable? She remembered now why she couldn't stand anyone in that family. ‘No, Mrs Pettilow. That's not what happened. If you would just listen to me—'

The phone line went dead. Jess pulled the receiver away from her ear and glared at it before slamming it back into its cradle.

She returned to the kitchen. ‘I can't believe it – she just hung up on me!'

‘Who – Mrs Pettilow?' asked Grace, walking out to the hallway in Jess's favourite red pyjamas. ‘Why? What did she say?' Grace liked to know everything that went on in the gully, especially if it involved the Pettilows. She was their number-one critic.

‘She accused me of luring Chelpie out to the flats on purpose – so she would get caught in the cattle grid.'

‘You're kidding!' snorted Grace.

‘Just shows the way they think,' said Rosie, appearing in Jess's old chenille bathrobe, a scrunched-up bundle of flannelette in her hand. ‘Do you have any pyjamas that are a bit more . . . feminine?'

‘She said I was cruel!' said Jess, too outraged to answer her.

Shara stepped out of Jess's room in her daggiest old tracksuit and let out a long, loud raspberry. ‘Their horse is so skinny it's nearly a welfare case. You should see the state of its stable!'

‘Just anything that doesn't resemble a sweaty old work shirt,' said Rosie, holding the offending item between a thumb and forefinger. ‘Cotton would be good. I don't do synthetics.'

In the kitchen, the new oven timer beeped incessantly. ‘Festy fat fibber. I hate her,' Grace announced as she came face to face with Jess's mum. ‘Hello, Mrs Fairley. I think your stove's about to reverse over someone.'

‘Hate is such a strong word, Grace,' said Caroline, pushing randomly at buttons, trying to switch the thing off. It finally silenced and she pulled a dish from the oven, releasing delicious-smelling wafts of butter pastry.

‘You'll hate her too when you hear what she said to Jess,' said Grace.

‘To hate is to give away your power,' said Caroline. ‘Who are you talking about?'

The girls all answered at once, filling Caroline in on the day's events, and relaying the Pettilow accusations in peeved tones. They devoured the free-range chicken and leek pie, then systematically emptied every biscuit barrel in the house, washing it all down with Milo as they went.

‘You kids are like a plague of locusts,' Caroline complained as she wiped up after them.

The girls emptied the linen closet of blankets and doonas, moved the furniture and set up camp around the open fireplace in the lounge room. When night fell, they turned off the lights and pretended they were sitting around a drover's campfire, toasting marshmallows until they were burnt and crunchy on the outside and gooey in the middle.

‘Why are boys always allowed to do fun things like droving?' said Grace. ‘Luke and Ryan get to go to Longwood. Dad's going, even Tom.'

‘It'll be such an easy run,' agreed Rosie. ‘There'll be no bulls. I don't understand why we can't go.'

Grace scowled. ‘It's always the same. The men in this family are total chauvinists.'

‘I thought Lawson hated Ryan,' said Jess.

‘Not so much since he stopped drinking,' said Rosie, always a good source of gossip. ‘It was Harry's dying wish that they make up and get along. Lawson's giving him one chance. They're going to take the last of Harry's cattle to the saleyards together, kind of like a tribute to him.' She rolled her eyes. ‘That's if they can do it without killing each other.'

‘Yeah, and meanwhile, all the
girls
in the family get left behind,' complained Grace.

After more grumbling, Shara began to tell stories of mythical river creatures, bunyips and cursed white snakes, lurking in the riverbeds and waterholes of Coachwood Crossing. When Jess finally fell asleep, her dreams brimmed with images of Chelpie, a skeletal white ghost horse, splashing through swampy river flats, hunting for prey.

4

JESS STAGGERED AROUND
in a white haze. The wind tore at her skin, infusing her with an icy coldness, and whipping her hair across her face. Hoof beats clattered in her head, getting louder and louder, circling her. A skeleton with three hollow eyes galloped out of the haze, screaming. Jess screamed back.

‘Holy—!' Shara sat bolt upright. ‘You scared the bejingles out of me, Jess! What's wrong?'

Jess put both hands on her heart. ‘I had a nightmare,' she panted. ‘I can still hear it.' She stared wildly about her as though a horse might burst through the walls at any moment. ‘Hoofbeats.'

Shara rushed to the window. ‘It's the horses. They're going crazy!'

Jess and Grace threw their quilts off and joined her. They couldn't see a thing in the darkness but they could hear galloping hooves and, far away, a horse screaming.

‘Something's wrong!' said Jess.

They rushed out to the hallway and pulled on their jackets. Jess grabbed a torch from the hall cupboard. Halfway down the steps she stopped. ‘Do you think we should wake Rosie?'

‘She'll spit if we go without her,' said Shara.

‘She doesn't like having her beauty sleep interrupted,' warned Grace.

‘She'd want us to wake her, surely,' said Jess.

Grace groaned and they raced back inside.

‘Oi, Noddy!' Grace threw a balled sock at her sister's head.

‘Don't,' Rosie whined, pulling her doona around her.

Shara gave Rosie a gentle shake. ‘The horses are going off! Wake up, Rosie!'

A grumbling squeal came from Rosie's pillow and an arm swiped at Shara's hand.

‘See, told you. You're wasting your time,' said Grace.

‘Forget it. Let's just go,' said Jess.

Outside it was pitch black. They heard Rocko scream excitedly to the other horses from the confines of the yard and, from somewhere in the darkness, a hysterical whinny echoed back.

‘That's Marnie!' said Jess. ‘Opal must be in trouble!'

Jess led the girls fumble-footed into the night, guided only by a small streak of torchlight and the sound of hooves. The air was thick with drizzle, so fine that she could feel it drawn into her lungs as she panted ahead of her friends. They reached the paddock fence.

‘I can't see a
thing
,' Grace whined, clutching Jess's arm.

‘There's a track a bit further ahead.' Jess climbed over the rail and pushed on. She brandished the torch around, straining her eyes to see the horses. They were close, she could hear them. She found the track and broke into a slow jog.

She led her friends down a steep rocky hill and when they reached the bottom, Jess shone the torch around. Beyond them was a lake of water with just the top few inches of fenceposts jutting from the surface.

Holy . . .

‘The river is nearly over the fenceposts,' gasped Jess. ‘If the horses go in there, they'll get their legs tangled in the wires.' She ran towards the sound of hooves. ‘
Where's
Opal?
' She shone the torch up and down the fenceline, anxiously searching, as a big black shadow whinnied loudly and galloped along the water's edge. ‘Marnie,' cried Jess. ‘Where's your baby?'

‘Shine it out further, past the fence,' said Shara. ‘Opal might be stuck on the other side.'

Jess shone it out further but the light faded into black distance.

‘
There!
What was that?' said Shara. ‘Shine it back the other way.'

Jess did so and she could just make out a flash of white with two glowing embers on the other side of the river. Two haunted eyes stared at them.

‘It's Chelpie! She's escaped again,' Jess groaned. ‘Oh God, this can't be happening.
Where is Opal?
'

‘Just stop and be quiet for a minute. We might hear her,' said Shara.

Jess stood stock-still and listened, but all she could hear was her own breathing. Then there was a splash. ‘What was that?'

‘Give me the torch, Jess,' said Shara, taking it from Jess and shining it to the left. ‘Come on! She's down here. I can hear her.' She ran in the direction of the splashing.

‘That's her!' Jess screamed in a panic. ‘Chelpie must have called her to the fence!' She began wading into the water. ‘I'm coming, Opal. I'm coming.'

‘Don't go out there, Jess,' screamed Grace. ‘The current is too strong.' Her voice became hysterical. ‘It's a king tide. You'll drown!'

‘Get out of there, Jess,' Shara yelled.

The water felt like a moving wall. It bulldozed Jess's legs out from under her and she fell backwards with a splash. She reached frantically down to the soil and grabbed hold of a clump of grass, pulling herself back out. ‘Opal's tangled in the fence. Her head keeps going under.'

‘I know, but you'll get swept away if you go in after her,' said Shara, clutching Jess by the sleeve.

‘But I can't just stand here and watch her drown.' Jess paced up and down, frantic. She could just make out her filly struggling in the fence, her ears flat back and forelegs paddling at the water eddying and roiling around her.

‘We need wirecutters. I'll jump on Buster and get some from the shed.' Shara sprang onto Rosie's horse like a jockey and began galloping back to the house.

It seemed like an eternity before Shara returned. Jess stood on the edge of the water in the blackness, running her hands anxiously through her wet hair and pacing while Opal splashed about.

‘Don't give up, Opal,' called Jess. ‘Don't give up, we're going to help you, just don't give up . . .'

Then she saw two red eyes bobbing along the top of the water.

‘Go away, Chelpie!' Jess screamed. She stood up and waved her arms at the horse. ‘
You
did this.'

‘Look,' said Grace, ‘I think she's trying to help her.'

Chelpie reached the fence and put her nose under the filly's neck, helping her to stay upright.

Jess watched in amazement. ‘That's what we need to do,' she said with a sudden surge of hope, ‘get on the horses. They're strong enough to stand in the moving water.' She turned and began to run back into the paddock. ‘Dodger, come on. Come on, boy.'

She heard his familiar deep nickering as he came lumbering out of the darkness. Jess wrapped her coat around his neck and jumped onto his back. As she steered him with her legs down into the rushing water, a large beam of light swung through the paddock.

‘It's your dad. He's brought the fourbie down,' said Grace excitedly. The four-wheel drive rumbled towards them, pulled up, and Craig, Caroline and Shara all climbed out.

‘Don't you even
think
of riding into that water, Jessica Fairley!' Craig ordered. ‘You'll be swept away forever.'

The headlights shone directly at the two horses in the swollen river. Only their heads were above the surface, and the water swirled madly around them, leaving a trail of bubbles that raced off downstream. Opal looked utterly exhausted; her head hung over Chelpie's brilliant white neck with a dull expression. Chelpie also looked like she was struggling and her pleading hollow eyes squinted into the headlights.

‘Did you bring the wirecutters, Dad?'

‘Yep, and some ropes. We'll have to get a halter on that filly somehow.'

‘Her legs are stuck in the wire. I'll ride Dodger out there. He's strong enough to take me through the water.'

‘It'll just grab you by the legs and rip you straight off him,' said Craig.

Caroline agreed. ‘I don't want you in those floodwaters, Jess. Get off that horse now.'

‘But there's not much time, they can't stand up for much longer! Someone has to help her!'

‘Well, it's not going to be you. Get off that horse, Jess!' yelled Caroline.

‘I'll tie a rope around my waist and swim out,' said Craig.

He fastened one end of a rope to the bullbar of the car, then he made a loop with the other end and tossed it out to the nearest fencepost. It missed. Jess ran into the water to help him drag it back in.

‘Get
out
of the water,' Caroline yelled.

Jess stepped only halfway out, and shifted from one foot to another as she watched Craig throw it out again. After several attempts, he managed to secure it, then slung another coil of rope over his shoulder, bit the cutters between his teeth and waded in.

An unbearable pain tightened in Jess's throat as she watched her father move closer to the horses. It was slow going, and he was buffeted by the tide at every step.

‘Be
careful
, Craig,' Caroline called out. ‘Don't let go of that rope!'