Race Girl (8 page)

I'm so sorry!

She threw her arms up around Greg's neck, face buried in his smooth coat, cursing herself. The thoughts came thick and fast as she breathed in his scent, listening to him chewing his breakfast.
If I don't even have a horse to ride, and I'm not sure I
have
the guts to ride a real racehorse on a real track, then maybe I shouldn't even bother trying to convince Dad that I need to start my apprenticeship. Maybe I should return to school for Year 11 in eight week's time, try to find something else to do – like, lead a more normal life?

But this idea really made Tully uncomfortable. She wouldn't receive her marks for another few weeks, but she already knew she'd be lucky to scrape by. She couldn't remember enjoying anything she'd studied all year, with the exception of her agriculture elective and one of the books she'd studied in English. And even then, the best she'd been graded in either of those class assignments was a C. She'd never been a ‘smart kid' – all she'd ever wanted to do was ride . . .

‘
Ah—!
' Tully cried, pushing her face further into Greg's mane. He brought his nose around to her, nibbling at her hair and down her neck. His whiskers tickled so much that she had to laugh. ‘Thanks for always being here for me, matey,' she whispered, running her hand down his strong, broad face, pressing a kiss onto his black nose.

Greg stared at Tully for a few wondrous moments, his eyes deep and brown and wise, before swishing his tail and getting back to licking every morsel of chaff from his bucket. Tully kept her arms around his neck, leaning back to watch what he did with his legs. The sick, heavy knot in her stomach tightened. He didn't seem to be in pain, but he certainly wasn't putting any weight on that off-hind.

★

The next two days dragged like an anchor at work. Every customer was either sour-faced and difficult, or a kid from school who was annoyingly cheery and excited about their summer –hopeful about their lives. Then Annalise Belgrave and her posse came into the drive through in her brand-new BMW late on Wednesday afternoon, sending Tully spiralling into despair. Annalise, already sixteen, was driving with her older cousin, a dressage girl of the same princess variety. After recognising Tully's voice, Annalise took a whole four minutes to order, then sneered and dropped her fifty dollar note, making no moves to get out and retrieve it herself.

Annalise laughed her butt off along with the rest of the girls in the sleek SUV and honked her horn as Tully had to exit the joint, fish the bill out of the hedge, then return with the required McDonald's smile and serve each girl her identical ‘skinny cappuccino with artificial sweetener with
half
the normal chocolate on top, served warm
not
hot'.

Friggin' hell
. Tully smiled through gritted teeth, imagining how amazing it would feel to tip the coffees in Annalise's designer-jean-clad lap.

‘Have a great day, Tragic!' Annalise sang as she accepted the tray, then peeled out of the drive through.

Tully expected the next humiliation she'd have to endure would be Brandon driving in and mocking her hat and uniform. She was relieved, however, to see the next car in line was a maroon station wagon – after seeing Brandon's quad bike, Tully reckoned he'd for sure drive a flash ute. The relief was shortlived: the lady driving greeted her with a string of expletives surrounding ‘being kept waiting in the heat with her air con broken and four kids playing up in the back'. Tully gave them all free soft serve ice creams for the inconvenience. At least the kids seemed happy.

She was thrilled to see a friendly face when Tam and her mum came through for frappés a little while later. After getting their mango-flavoured frosty drinks, Tam reached across her mum to Tully. ‘Pick a hand,' she said, smirking.

Tully shook her head. ‘You're gonna get me in sh—'

‘Go on!'

‘
Fine!
' Tully smiled sympathetically at Judy – who was struggling for breath underneath Tam's full chest – and jabbed at Tam's right fist.

‘Nah!' Tam said.

‘Oh, for God's sake, Tam!' Tully said, glancing behind her to make sure Moe wasn't back from her break.

Tam brought her left hand around and opened it up, revealing a tiny rearing horse with a flowing black mane and wild eyes. ‘I got one, too,' Tam said. ‘An early Chrissie pressie from Mum.'

‘Take care, love,' Judy said, giving Tully's hand a squeeze.

‘Thank you so much!' Tully cuddled the smooth, cool model against her cheek, pressed her lips against its shoulder. ‘Is this a Breyer?' She'd
always
wanted one of the coveted horsey collectables.

Tam nodded, then yelled out as the car behind honked and Judy shifted into ‘Drive', ‘Sleepover soon, Tulls?'

Tully gave Tam a thumbs up, waved them off, then kissed her little horse again and tucked it into her breast pocket. She pulled it back out after her shift, while she was waiting out front with Taylor, enjoying the drench of orange sunset across the wide-open paddock beside their workplace, the dark mountain range framing the horizon.

Tully almost didn't recognise him, when he pulled alongside her in the rusty dual cab ute. ‘Bucko?' she said, drifting around to the open driver's side window. ‘What's up?'

‘Hop in, doll,' Bucko said, a grin lighting up his rugged face in a way she hadn't seen in months. ‘I've got a surprise for ya.'

8

The Pink Queenslander

‘You've gotta tell me where we're going.'

Bucko smiled, shook his head gently.

Tully grinned, hugging her backpack in her lap. Her gaze drifted out to the open paddocks beyond the shop-fronts. The land was heavily tinted a brilliant mandarin and rich pink, the parrots and lorikeets and galahs out for an evening feed, swooping in the brown grass and chattering in the trees. Tully's mind whirled, she glanced back at the empty horse trailer squeaking and bumping along behind them. ‘Seriously, Bucko,' she blurted, leaning across the middle seat, her seatbelt restraint bringing her up short and digging into her chest. ‘What's going on? Have we picked up another owner?'

Bucko grinned, clearly enjoying himself. He tipped his hat with his thumb, one hand resting casually on the wheel. They passed the timber yard, then the vet, heading out of town.

‘Are we goin' to Ipswich?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Is that a yes?'

‘Probably not.'

‘
Oh
…' she tossed her hands in the air in frustration, ‘How far
are
we going?'

‘As long as it takes.'

Tully sighed dramatically, bit her bottom lip. She leaned an elbow on her door, resting her chin in her hand. The old ute creaked and whirred as they drove through the dip in the highway, past a new estate, its houses twinkling with red, green, even purple lights and festive displays reminding her it was only a few weeks until Christmas. On past the wide river land opposite, stretching far into the sunset.

Her foot started tapping as they blew past the Billabong Hotel, with Santa in his green plastic sleigh being pulled by his reindeer fastened to the roof. Tully's heart jumped, wondering if they'd be turning into the huge thoroughbred facility on the hill to their right, rivaled in the state only by Weston Park.

‘Nope,' Bucko said, raising an eyebrow. Tully narrowed her eyes at him as he casually lifted a finger to acknowledge a silver Land Cruiser passing in the oncoming lane.

She turned back to the highway, chewing her lip until it hurt and was lost in her thoughts when Bucko finally slowed to hang left into a gravel road that dipped down into the river flats. She sat forward in the seat, dropped her bag on the floor, searching the paddocks of the acreages and farms all around. The tyres crunched over gravel, the trailer banging over the grooves etched like a washboard on the narrowing gravel track.

The road hit a dead end a few hundred metres along, and she didn't see the driveway until they were on top of it. Tully took in the faded pink Queenslander, raised several metres off the ground to protect it from flooding, sagging in the middle of a wide, overgrown front yard. A rusted station wagon and dozens more shells and skeletons of cars and motorbikes were strewn across the yard, around the house and as far as she could see into the property. A man with long grey hair holding a brown paper bag with a bottle top sticking out of it stood up on the front verandah, which was rotting at the edges and open to the drop with no handrail. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, his mouth tensing into a hard, unwelcoming line.

Tully's heart sped as Bucko pulled into the driveway and parked in a narrow void amongst the disintegrating collection of vehicles – alongside the house and a barbed wire boundary fence. He killed the engine, un-clicked his seatbelt and went to hop out. ‘C'mon,' he said, nodding towards the house.

Tully's eyebrows almost met, but she reached for the door handle. She watched the man on the front verandah from the corner of her eye. The hair on the back of her neck crept up, goosebumps racing down her arms and legs. Her heart thumped with uneasiness, but she was willing herself to open the door just as a huge, muscly dog came tearing around the corner of the house. It hit the end of the chain, barking ferociously.

‘
Holy—
' Tully said, her hand ripping back from the door handle like it was scalding. ‘
Bucko!
'

He didn't look back, but waved for her to follow as he disappeared through the maze of cars, around the back of the house.

Holy crap
, Tully thought, her face suddenly burning, her brain pulsing, hands clammy and shivering. Now
what do I do?!

‘Terror!' The man yelled at the dog. ‘Enough.' He sat back in his chair and reached for something on the plank of wood beside him.

Tully froze, imagining it could be a gun, and ducked to the floor. When she realised she was probably being ridiculous, she peeked up over the dashboard. The man had turned away, a cordless telephone pressed to his ear.

Come on, Athens
, she told herself,
quit being such a sook!
She opened the door and hopped swiftly out of the ute, keen to get as far away from the snapping dog as possible. He growled as she darted past – she ducked around a rusted hatchback half sunken into the dry ground, then escaped around the corner and into the full shade of the side of the house. Bucko was up ahead, leaning against a wooden fence, staring into the back paddock.

Tully glanced over her shoulder to make sure Terror hadn't somehow slipped his chain and followed her, before joining him at the rail. She squinted across the paddock in the dull light of dusk, then blinked, her heart leaping when she spotted a skinny bay thoroughbred in the back corner of the wide, square dirt paddock. The horse's hip bones jutted out sickeningly, each of the ribs clearly defined under a patchy, filthy coat. Something in her curved face and cute pointed ears gave her away as a filly. Tully groaned at the condition of her body, of her long, cracked hooves, but found herself smiling at the way the little filly still managed to hold her head high, standing as square as she could on all four legs, her eyes alert, ears pricked firmly forward at her new visitors. They watched each other for a few minutes, the humans and the filly, before Bucko whistled to her. Her nose shot even higher into the air, her body pushing hard into the back fence.

‘Oh,' Tully said. ‘Let's not frighten her.'

‘Looks like she's had plenty of that already, poor darlin',' Bucko said, a dark frown crossing his face, landing on his lips. ‘Let's go have a quick chat to Dennis, then you can head over and see if you can't get acquainted. Hopefully you'll need this—' He handed her a worn rope halter and lead rope.

Tully accepted it, her eyes firmly on the filly.

‘You can go see her in a sec,' Bucko said, taking Tully gently by the arm. She waved at the filly, before drifting along behind Bucko as he marched around the front of the house to see the man on the front verandah.

‘Buckley,' the man said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Didn't know you'd be stoppin' by.'