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Authors: Karen Wood

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Opal Dreaming (9 page)

BOOK: Opal Dreaming
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Mrs Arnold gave her daughter a look of thunder, then turned to Jess. ‘Want me to look at the horse or not?'

Jess looked to Rosie.

‘It's okay, she knows what she's doing,' her friend reassured her. ‘Come and sit on the fence and watch.'

Judy Arnold marched over to where Opal lay, then continued walking straight past her.

The filly startled and scrambled to her feet. She whinnied as she galloped to the other horses, who whinnied back and trotted to meet her.

‘They're looking after her,' said Jess. It was a touching sight. Opal nuzzled into Rusty's side and Tinks came around from behind, circling her.

Mrs Arnold turned and walked past Opal again. As she did, Opal flattened her ears and broke from the mob, rushing at her.

The woman spun to face her, looked directly into her eyes and yelled ‘
BAAAH!
' so loudly that Jess nearly fell off the fence. Opal stopped in her tracks and stared like a startled possum.

For a brief moment, the woman and the scrawny foal locked eyes, until Mrs Arnold waved her arms and yelled, ‘Gwahn! Get!' Opal scuttled off to the other horses and Mrs Arnold turned her back and walked off. Opal trotted out and lunged at the intruder again, but Mrs Arnold spun around, and drove her away once more.

‘It's got
debil debil
in its head, that one,' said Bob.

Jess spun and glared at him.

He nodded at her. ‘How's Dodger? You wanna sell that old fulla yet?'

Jess shook her head. ‘Sorry.'

Bob gestured at Opal in the camp. ‘That horse is from the min mins. She got
debil debil
in her head. I told Lawson.'

‘She's not Lawson's horse, she's mine,' Jess corrected him. ‘And she's not a dud, if that's what you're trying to say.'

In the yards, Mrs Arnold kept pushing Opal away, and the more she did so, the more Opal came at her – or
to
her, Jess realised. It was hard to tell when the turnaround happened. After several more clashes, Mrs Arnold allowed Opal to follow for a few paces. Then she bent and lowered herself to the ground, sitting on one heel, with her hands crossed easily over her knee.

Opal dropped her crooked head and sniffed the back of her neck, and, without looking at her, Mrs Arnold reached back to give her a gentle rub. As though in a trance, Opal closed her eyes and rested her muzzle on the woman's shoulder.

‘You do need some help, don't you, little one,' Mrs Arnold murmured as she stroked the bony forehead.

‘Pretty cool, huh?' Rosie whispered to Jess.

‘That is amazing,' whispered Jess in awe. ‘No one has ever been able to get near her without tranquillising her first.'

Shara gave Jess an excited squeeze. ‘Maybe her head's getting better!'

Jess turned to Bob. ‘See? No
debil debil
!'

Bob continued polishing the thing in his hand. His expression didn't change.

Mrs Arnold let the foal be and walked back towards the LandCruiser. Jess ran after her. ‘How did you do that, Mrs Arnold? No one has ever been able to get near her before.'

‘I just talked to her on her own terms,' said Mrs Arnold. ‘Not that she had anything nice to say. Come on, we have to get going. Jump in.'

Jess turned to Bob. ‘Who's looking after the horses back here?'

‘Oh, plenty of fullas to look after them, lots of staff. The
debil
horse stays at the homestead till Lawson gets back and makes sure she's okay before he lets her out onto the station.' He stared knowingly at Jess. ‘Said life wouldn't be worth living if anything happened to her.'

‘He got that bit right,' said Jess. ‘So what if anything happens when we're out droving?'

‘They got Lawson's number. They'll call if she goes downhill.'

Jess ran to the four-wheel drive, scrawled her mobile number on the back of a scrap of paper and dashed back to Bob. ‘Can you tell them that this is the number to ring if anything happens to that filly? They're to ring me, not Lawson.'

Bob gave her an uneasy look.

‘
I'm
the owner. They need to ring
me
,' Jess repeated, shoving the piece of paper at him.

Bob looked at Mrs Arnold. ‘Who owns the horse?'

Mrs Arnold shrugged. ‘Lawson did promise it to her.'

Bob hesitantly took the number and walked back to the shed with it.

Jess squeezed into the LandCruiser with the other girls, her neck craned back to the yards. She felt a lifting of the heaviness she had been carrying, a sudden sense of hope. Mrs Arnold's link-up with Opal was only a small step, but it was a forward one.

‘Hopping on, Bob?' yelled Mrs Arnold, as she started the engine.

Bob emerged from the shed, slinging a small pack over his shoulder, and jumped onto the running board that ran along the side of the four-wheel drive. He banged twice on the roof and Mrs Arnold shoved the vehicle into first and took off.

Jess stuck her head out the window. ‘Are you coming droving too?'

Bob nodded. ‘Horse tailer – my favourite job!'

10

THEY REACHED THE CAMP
just as the sun was setting. Jess was relieved. If she had to listen to her friends sing the Kasey Chambers pony song one more time, she was going to have an aneurism.

The country was dotted with mulga trees and tufts of Mitchell grass, which Jess knew were filled with nutritional goodness despite a wiry, outwardly parched appearance. A gooseneck trailer towed by Lawson's ute was parked by the side of a dirt track; a chunky stockman in black jeans tended the fire; tethered horses swished their tails, and motorbikes, scattered saddles and cooking equipment were strewn about. Another ute, old and yellow and missing the driver's door, was parked nearby with a motorbike in the back.

Between the camp and the burning sunset, a large mob of cows were boxed inside a break that was fenced off with two strands of electric tape. Stretching away in the other direction, a separate ring of electric wires enclosed twenty or so horses as they chewed on the day's grain rations. There were dogs everywhere: mostly big kelpies, plus a couple of heavy-jawed Smithfield cattle dogs chained to trees, panting.

‘Hey Jess, there's Walkabout,' said Grace.

Jess beamed. ‘Wally!' Amid the horses, she could make out Walkabout's spotted white rump. She ran her eyes over the filly, checking for saddle marks, and was relieved to find none.

Lawson stepped out of a side door in the trailer and walked out to meet them. Jess set her jaw hard and stared fiercely at him.

‘My dear Aunty Jude,' he said, ignoring Jess.

‘Don't give me that Dear Aunty routine,' Mrs Arnold said dryly, but with the faintest hint of a smile.

Lawson peered into the back of the LandCruiser, where the girls were unclipping seatbelts and crawling over each other. ‘I see you brought the hired help along,' he said.

‘You didn't think you could ditch this lot that easily, did you?'

‘Thought it was worth a try.' Lawson pulled a face at Grace, who stuck a finger up at him.

‘The girls stay in the trailer with me, and if one of them grubby ringers so much as looks at 'em, I'll knock his block off.' Mrs Arnold turned around to the girls and snapped, ‘And I'll do the same to you lot, you hear?'

The girls all straightened and nodded attentively. All, that is, except Grace, who made a half-hearted attempt to stifle a giggle.

‘Do you hear me, Grace Arnold?' her mother shouted so loudly that Jess winced and the black-jeaned man looked over at the commotion.

‘Yes, Mum.'

Lawson roared with laughter. ‘It'd be a brave man who'd mess with your daughters, Jude.'

‘Where's Lindy?' asked Mrs Arnold.

‘Gone into town to organise permits and get some supplies. She'll be back later tonight,' said Lawson. ‘Come on over.'

‘What about me husband?'

‘Stanley's hiding back at the river. Made some excuse about checking for dingos.'

‘Hmph,' said Mrs Arnold, and planted her foot on the accelerator. Lawson stepped hastily out of the way.

Before the girls had a chance to stretch their legs from the long drive, Lawson set about giving orders. ‘Jess, there are two horses tied up that need unsaddling and a rub-down. Make sure you do a good job; they've had more than six hours under a saddle today. Put 'em in the break with the others when you're done.' He issued further instructions as he walked. ‘Then you can feed the dogs. There's a bag of dry food under the trailer.'

Jess set to work without speaking to him.

By late in the evening, the workers had all had a sustaining meal and the girls had washed dishes, kneaded dough for the next day's bread, collected firewood, lugged water, made billy tea and semi-prepared the next morning's breakfast.

Jess stood next to Shara by an open fire, a large helping of potatoes and meat sitting in her stomach. The fire was blistering hot on her face and arms while the descending night wrapped a blanket of icy cold around her back and shoulders. She turned herself slowly like a rotisserie, trying to even out the warmth.

‘Did Luke say hello to you?' asked Shara. She scooped a hunk of potato into her mouth.

Jess rubbed her hands together over the flames. ‘Nope.'

‘He probably just hasn't had a chance yet. He looked pretty busy.'

‘Yeah, whatever,' said Jess. ‘I didn't come out here to see him.'

‘He's over there by the goosey,' said Shara, nodding towards the trailer.

‘Yes. I know,' said Jess curtly. She was painfully aware of Luke's whereabouts, after deliberately avoiding him all evening. She changed the subject. ‘Did you meet the ringers?'

‘Yeah,' said Shara.

Rosie appeared from the shadows and sat on a log with a plate of steaming food. ‘Are they hot?' she whispered.

Shara made a face as if she had just choked on her own vomit. ‘They're really old, probably in their thirties or something. The stumpy one's called Dave and the scrawny one's called Clarkey.'

Grace joined them with a cup of hot Milo. ‘They're Ryan's loser mates. Mum reckons Lindy's not very happy about them coming.'

Rosie sighed and arranged her potatoes in a row on her plate. ‘Bummer,' she said, poking her fork into one, inspecting it and then placing it neatly into her mouth. ‘You'll have to share Luke with us, Jessy,' she giggled.

‘He's not mine to share.'

‘Are you kidding me? He's totally in love with you!' said Rosie.

‘We're just friends.'

‘So if he went off with Katrina Pettilow, you wouldn't care?'

‘I wouldn't like it if
any
one went off with Katrina,' snapped Jess.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. ‘Touchy.'

Jess walked over to a log and plonked herself down without answering.

Shara sat next to her and gave her a friendly nudge. ‘Come on, Jessy,' she said quietly. ‘Look where we are! Opal's going to be fine. They've got your number, so you'll soon get a message if she's not. Let's enjoy ourselves.'

Jess thawed a little and nudged her back. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I just can't stop thinking about her. I hate not having control of her. I feel as if Lawson's going to take her from me, just like he did with Wally.'

‘You'll feel better once you get some sleep. It probably won't be so busy tomorrow,' said Shara. ‘We'll just sit on the horses and watch the cattle graze.'

‘Hope we can sleep in a bit,' said Jess.

That fantasy was quickly shattered. ‘You girls had better hit the sack. We'll be up at four.' Mrs Arnold bent down and picked up their plates and cups. ‘Roll out your swags in the trailer.'

‘Four?' Jess and Shara stared at each other in horror.
‘In the morning? '

‘I'll die,' said Rosie from the other side of the fire.

Jess got up and followed Mrs Arnold back into the trailer. ‘Can we sleep outside under the stars, Mrs Arnold?'

‘No,' was the short reply. Mrs Arnold dropped a stack of dirty tin cups and cutlery into a large plastic bowl.

A small battery-powered lamp hung from the ceiling, casting feeble shadows around the inside of the trailer. In the neck, beyond all the bags of food, tangles of leather and miscellaneous kitchen items, was a large shelf, broad enough for three to lie comfortably across. Four would be a squeeze but Jess was too tired to care.

‘All of us have to sleep up here,' said Grace, scrambling into the peak and poking her head over the edge.

‘I'm not sleeping next to you in those filthy clothes,' Rosie whined. ‘Mum, make Grace get changed. She stinks.'

‘At least take your jeans off, Grace,' said Mrs Arnold in a disinterested tone. ‘They're covered in cow dung.'

‘Fine,' said Grace, ripping them off and throwing them at her sister's head. Rosie ducked and Jess copped a face full of rancid denim that smelled as though it hadn't left Grace's body for a week. To add insult to injury, the metal button clouted her in the eye.

‘Crikey, Grace!' she grumbled as she clutched her face.

Grace winced. ‘Sorry, Jess!'

‘Oh, for Pete's sake!' yelled Mrs Arnold. ‘Will you girls sort yourselves out and get to bed?'

The girls shut up and quickly set about their sleeping arrangements.

‘She's caged us in for the night,' whispered Rosie as they wriggled into their bedding.

‘Surprised she hasn't put bars over the windows,' Grace whispered back.

On the floor of the trailer, Mrs Arnold had unfolded a stretcher bed for herself midway between the door and the girls.

Jess snuggled into her sleeping bag and flipped open her phone, checking for messages from the station. She wouldn't be able to sleep unless she knew Opal was okay. There was one new message.

Luke: bout time you got out here!

Jess couldn't control the huge grin that spread over her face. At least Luke wasn't mad at her anymore. She flipped the phone shut and fell asleep holding it snug in her hand.

BOOK: Opal Dreaming
2.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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