Diamond Spirit (13 page)

Dodger spun on his heels, nearly tipping Jess off. She grabbed for the front of the saddle and hung on as he followed the bag up the arena.

‘And again,’ Harry called out. This time Jess sat into the saddle, anticipating the spin as Harry sent Dodger back the other way.

‘Stick your legs forward and loosen your waist, Jess,’ Tom called out.

‘Get your heels down,’ shouted Rosie.

Grace yelled, ‘Take it in the guts, Jessy!’

Jess tried to follow all the instructions being hurled at her.

After a few more turns, she and Dodger were effortlessly following the bag up and down the arena. Harry kept it slow until Jess got the feel for it, and then he began to crank it up.

‘You get over here and pedal. I’m too old for this caper,’ Harry wheezed, motioning to Luke.

Luke climbed up onto the post and took over the pedals. The bag went sailing up the arena, coaxing Dodger into a short gallop – then, without warning, bag and horse changed direction, leaving Jess desperately clinging on. Just as she found her seat, Dodger spun again and galloped the other way. Left, right, left, right: Jess sank into the saddle and took each turn in her waist, gaining a rhythm with Dodger, who crouched down and darted back and forth.

‘He’s a little ripper!’ yelled Harry gleefully.

Tom and the girls clapped and hooted loudly. Luke sat on the post, grinning. The horse was a magician.

As Jess walked Dodger around to cool him off she couldn’t get the smile off her face. She couldn’t wait to have a go at cutting some real cattle. Dodger had a secret past that she didn’t think Hetty even knew about. He must have been an absolute star in his day.

As she led Dodger out the front gate later that afternoon, she took a moment to look him over. He was scruffy, that was for sure, and his feet . . .

His feet were neatly trimmed!

Jess looked up and saw Luke by the yard putting a bucket of tools away.

‘Thanks, Luke,’ she called out. He looked up, nodded, and kept walking.

He’s nice.

On her way home, Jess wondered what sort of a life Dodger had had. He wasn’t a young horse; his muzzle was grey and his teeth were long. He must be in his twenties. She wondered how many owners he’d had and what other talents he might be hiding. She thought of Black Beauty, in her favourite storybook, and how many different owners he’d been through – some kind, some cruel.

She gave Dodger a slap on the neck. ‘This is going to be a kind chapter in your life, Dodger, I promise.’

17

WHEN JESS TURNED UP
at Rosie and Grace’s place for the first time, she wondered if she had the right place. She’d expected a well-tended stud farm, but the Arnold house was surrounded by junk. There were crooked piles of old bricks, tangled steel, old engines and slabs of timber, all cluttered along the muddy, potholed driveway. There was just enough room for a vehicle to grind its way through.

Among the debris, an assortment of horses chewed on their morning feed. She recognised Buster, who stood out from the rest in a clean blue rug and a clean blue halter, eating out of a clean blue feed bin.

Fat red chooks waddled between the horses’ legs, pecking at the morsels of grain that fell from their mouths. As Jess rode up the driveway, the sour-sweet smells of manure in mud and hot, moist lucerne hung heavily in the still air. It was a smell that, before the rain, would have been quite delicious. But now, only hours later, it had a slightly decomposing edge that didn’t travel up the nostrils quite so smoothly.

There was a sudden frenzy of squawking and barking as a black kelpie chased a chook across the front yard. A woman brandishing a stick marched after them in old gumboots, wearing jeans and a baseball cap with black hair sticking out in all directions from under it. She was Grace and Rosie’s mum – Mrs Arnold. Jess recognised her from gymkhanas. She had the Blake nose. She was Harry’s sister; Lawson’s aunt.

Jess sat there on her horse, feeling awkward, as Mrs Arnold caught up with the dog and unleashed a string of colourful expletives. The dog spat out a mouthful of red feathers and darted off under an old tractor with its tail between its legs.

‘
Stanley!
’ Mrs Arnold shrieked. ‘Come and get this mongrel dog of yours before I shoot it!’

Yep, they’re related all right – gun freaks the lot of them!

Mr Arnold, who Jess had also seen at gymkhanas, walked onto the verandah, leaving the front door to bang behind him. He grumbled something and pulled on some Cuban-heeled boots.

Rosie and Grace appeared from under the house in oilskin jackets, each carrying a saddle.

‘Mum’s in a bad mood,’ whispered Rosie to Jess.

‘Yeah, let’s get out of here,’ said Grace.

Jess rode beside the girls as they walked down a dirt track that led to a large paddock by the river flats. ‘Where are Tom and Luke?’ she asked.

‘Luke’s saddling up Muscles, our stallion. Dad said he could ride him. Tom’s riding along the river flats. They’ll meet us down the paddock.’ Grace glanced back over her shoulder and said, ‘Poor Dad.’ Then she changed the subject. ‘We taught Handbrake to steer without any reins. I’ll show you when I catch her.’

‘Which one is Handbrake?’ Jess asked. She couldn’t keep up with all the different horses Grace rode.

‘She’s the bay filly we got from the saleyards. Dad called her Handbrake because she’s so lazy. He wants me to draft her and sell her on as a kids’ horse.’

As they walked down to a big grazing paddock, horses and cattle were scattered about the flats. The air smelt much better down there among the trees and pasture.

Grace went off in search of Handbrake, while Buster nudged a carrot out of Rosie’s hand. As the girls readied their horses, a long, sharp whistle sounded behind them. Jess turned to see Luke riding Muscles, who whinnied and grunted to the mares. The disgraced chicken-killer trotted along behind.

The stallion was a deep liver colour that changed whenever the sun caught him at a different angle. One minute he looked chocolate brown and the next he was golden, or copper, or red. Jess had never seen such a coat.

She gazed over the mix of cattle. They were all shapes and sizes, from big old Friesians to runty black heifers and brindled Brahmans. ‘Are they the ones we’re going to practise on?’

‘Well, technically, yes,’ said Rosie. She gave Jess a cheeky smile. ‘But we gotta go get our bull out of the neighbour’s paddock first and that might involve a bit of, er, reshuffling of some cattle.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper and moved closer to Jess. ‘Why stir up our cattle when we can stir up the neighbour’s, hey?’

‘Napoleon keeps jumping the fence,’ said Grace. ‘He’s in Mr Donaldson’s paddocks again. The old fella will have a stroke if he finds him in there again.’

‘It’ll be good practice for you to draft him out, Jess,’ said Rosie.

‘Hey, look, here comes Tom!’ said Luke. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out another whistle. Tom waved as he cantered up on a jet-black colt.

The group headed down along the river flats towards a gate that separated the over-grazed Arnold property from the noticeably lusher pasture of Mr Donaldson’s. A neat herd of plump red and white Herefords grazed alongside a huge white bull.

‘Lucky Mr Donaldson has gone into town for a few weeks, so he won’t know Napoleon got in again,’ Rosie said, swinging the gate open. ‘He spends a fortune on Hereford semen. He totally freaks if he finds our Brahman bull in here.’

‘Dad reckons we should charge old Donaldson stud fees for using our bull like that,’ said Grace giggled. ‘All those quality Brafords he gets each year.’

‘So, we’re only down here to get the bull back in, aren’t we?’ said Luke.

‘Yes, of course we are,’ said Rosie, nudging Buster into a trot. ‘We just have to move the other cattle a bit so we can get to him.’

The group spread out around the animals, quietly bringing them to a closely packed mob at the end of the paddock. While the girls held them in a group, Luke singled out one beast, moved it away and began to work it, making it look easy. Then Grace and Rosie had a go. Jess was amazed at how quick and agile such big, clumpy beasts could be.

‘Your turn,’ said Grace, pulling up her mare and giving her a pat.

Jess eyed the mob that Luke and Rosie held in the corner of the paddock. Dodger stepped up his pace and pricked his ears when he realised they were headed for the cattle. He felt like a coiled spring beneath her, bouncing from one leg to another. She held him steady.

‘Find one with a doe eye,’ said Luke. ‘One that looks a bit quiet.’

Jess looked at the twenty or so cattle. They all looked the same to her: scatty and nervous. Then she spied a small steer with what she thought might be a placid expression. She slipped Dodger between it and the mob as she had seen Luke do, and to her delight it moved away. But it just as quickly ducked under Dodger’s neck and scuttled back to the mob. She chased it too late and scattered the cattle in all directions. She tried again, only to have the same thing happen.

Luke rode over to her. ‘Keep the horse’s shoulder to the beast and rein him back one step before you turn him. That’ll sit him on his hindquarters and he’ll spin better.’

‘Okay.’

She set off towards the mob to try again.

‘Pick Napoleon this time,’ Luke called out.

Jess looked at the huge grey bull. He was twice the size of Dodger and had two seriously pointy horns jutting out of his head. From his chest came a deep, rumbling bellow.

He had to be kidding!

She looked back at Luke, expecting to see a grin, but he just shrugged. ‘We have to get him sometime. See if you can bring him back to the gate.’

Jess approached Napoleon, unable to take her eyes off his deadly-looking horns. To her relief, he swished his tail and walked in the other direction. She placed herself between the bull and the others. As he tried to return to the mob, she reined Dodger back onto his hind leg and to her complete surprise he spun effortlessly to block Napoleon.

Napoleon moseyed back and forth a few times in a half-hearted fashion, pointing his enormous horns directly at her, but Dodger danced in tandem and forced him back each time.

Cool fun! I am queen of the cattle yard!

‘Bring him to the gate,’ yelled Rosie.

Jess directed the bull towards the gate and to her delight he did as he was told, walking obediently away from the herd. Her confidence soared. She couldn’t wait to have a go at something a bit faster.

They spent the afternoon cantering around after the cattle, and Jess steadily got the hang of things.

‘Get up on its shoulder!’ Grace yelled out. ‘Stay clear of its hind legs. Push it around!’

‘
Hah!
’ Jess yelled. She held the reins up Dodger’s neck, urging him on faster as he galloped up onto a steer’s shoulder. With ears flat back, her horse leaned heavily into the beast and physically shoved it around a makeshift peg.

When Jess finally pulled up, her cheeks were flushed bright red and her smile was huge. She loosened the reins and walked the puffing horse to the sidelines. She had never felt so exhilarated. Dodger was an absolute genius on cattle.

‘He’s a great horse,’ said Luke, riding alongside her. ‘You’re gonna do all right at that draft, I reckon.’

‘Thanks!’ said Jess.

He held her gaze for a moment, then grinned and looked away.

Grace rode up next to Jess and reached over to pat Dodger on the neck. ‘What a good boy! You could teach Handbrake here a few lessons, couldn’t you?’ She gave her own horse a pat. ‘I think it’s the breeding paddock for you, girlie.’

Handbrake raised her head suddenly, stared towards the river and let out a long whinny. They all followed her stare and saw two helmets bobbing through the trees. A white horse glistened in the sun and Jess could see the motion of a crop on the other horse’s rump,
tap, tap
with every stride.

‘I can’t
stand
those girls,’ said Grace.

‘You hate everyone,’ said Rosie.

‘They’ll dob on us for sure,’ said Jess.

‘It’ll be okay,’ said Rosie. ‘We were just getting our bull back. I’ll explain everything to Dad and he’ll talk to Mr Donaldson. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.’

Jess rode home that evening feeling hopeful and determined. She was determined to win that money and save Walkabout from a dreadful future. She leaned forward to give Dodger a pat. What good luck he’d turned out to be.

Her father was waiting, arms folded, as she turned Dodger into the driveway. ‘Do you mind telling me where you’ve been riding today, Jess?’

‘We’ve been practising drafting, Dad. Dodger is going so well. Everyone’s really impressed with him.’ Jess gave the horse a slap on the neck. ‘Aren’t they, old boy?’

‘So Mr Donaldson tells me,’ said Craig, a thunderous look on his face. ‘He just rang all the way from the city to tell me you’ve been stirring up his prize Herefords.’

Jess pulled Dodger to a halt and jumped out of the saddle.

‘Mr Arnold’s bull got into his paddock and we had to get it out. We just had a bit of a play with the steers, but we didn’t go near the breeding stock,’ she explained.