Race Girl (25 page)

far band of the mountain.

Tully had worked up a sweat with the chores, but was cooling fast, so she pulled on her new black-padded jacket, whistled Bear from his drum down at the shed and set off up the internal road. It'd been too long since she'd been on the land; her life was beginning to consist of tyres on asphalt and hooves on sand. Not that she wasn't enjoying it, but a clean country morning like this could not be wasted.

Her boots left deep imprints in the dew-sticky bulldust as they trekked up past her mother's grave towards the top rim of the valley. It had greened up for a few weeks after the rain, but now the sun had soon burned it right back to brown. It was the driest spell Tully could remember, and, crushingly, rain wasn't forecast anytime soon.

She ran her hands over a tussock of tough buffel grass, peeking out from the protection of the barbed wire fence around the grave sites. Plucked a bushy head off one strand and rubbed it between her hands, breathed in the fresh, dusty scent of the parched grass, then let the little seeds spread on the wind. Tully sent a prayer up to the heavens for rain, but even in these dire conditions, she sure loved the county. This was home.

Tully was surprised to find that she wasn't even puffing by the time she settled down on the dewy, dry earth next to Bear dog, enjoying the calls of the whip birds echoing through the gums. The land radiated a rich, calming eucalypt scent that penetrated deep within her soul. She and Bear both seemed drawn by the lush shapes of the leaves of the gums and the vast, commanding view down over Avalon. Tully smiled at a squawk from the flock of cockatoos, regulars around the farm, as they passed overhead, sweeping down to land in the stringy-bark near the house. A morning like this made everything seem so simple and clear. She'd come a long way since her sweet sixteen, but life could turn in an instant. Tully understood this better than most.

Her mind wandered across the road to the Weston's, to Brandon, and Tully couldn't help but feel a nagging tug within her. Was it pain from the loss, or grief from missing him? Was it foreboding for his father, biding his time across the road for the best time to strike?
Maybe all three.
But the morning was glorious, and Tully wasn't about to ruin it with pointless thoughts of Brandon.

Need to hit the books tonight,
Tully reminded herself, hugging Bear in her lap, then standing up and brushing off her backside as it was time to get moving. Study had been a serious struggle as she wasn't usually done at the barn until late afternoon and was practically falling asleep on the drive home. But she'd committed to it; she'd promised her father and Tully was determined to get her HSC.

She considered taking Bear into the gym and barn to check on Dahlia as she still did on her days off, but knew Mr. Barnes wouldn't allow it. So she kissed him on the nose once they'd reached his drum, shooed away a fat cane toad that had hopped a bit too close from around the side of the shed. That done, she headed up to say goodbye to Bucko and her father who were meeting the vet for an emergency check of a gash Jeo had somehow managed to cop to his near-fore in his turnout paddock the day before.

Tully bundled into her ute with her bag packed for the gym and headed in first to see Dahlia, who'd officially started training with Curtis Barnes Racing. To make it happen, Tully had signed over a greater percentage of future earnings and was putting most of her wage into Dahlia's care, but with the progress her filly was making, every cent was worth it.

Tully was still in awe of Gulherin Lodge, the twenty-five horse stable that had been her second home for the past four months. She imagined it was similar to the facilities in Brisbane, or Weston Park, but on a smaller scale, with its neat, open stalls, horse walker, day yards and sand roll. They even had swimming facilities in a specially dug and maintained dam. Dahlia was especially enjoying the regular visits from the female chiropractor and horse masseur. Tully had learned so much about muscle health and a horse's movement from watching the sessions.

She often found herself thinking of ways to improve Avalon while working at Gulherin. Mr. Barnes had taken the whole morning on Tully's first day to show her around, blowing her mind with a few figures of what it cost to run his outfit, including a
weekly
feed bill of $17,000.00, wage costs per week of between $6,000.00 and $7,000.00, plus electricity, track and entry fees, insurances . . . The list seemed never ending. All it took was one owner to stop paying their bill and a trainer could go under in a matter of weeks. Tully understood why the industry had such a high turnover and was incredibly grateful to Mr. Barnes for letting her in on a few of his secrets for survival. As far as she was concerned, however, his passion for the horses and unwavering work ethic – pretty much seven days a week – were the main factors for his success, even in such a high-risk business as this.

Tully tried a few times to discuss her ideas with her father, but he hadn't been in the most receptive of moods since failing to get a start in the Brisbane Winter Carnival. She did her best to focus on her filly, her riding, and the things in her life that she could control. But Tully still prayed as often as she could that her farm, her home, would have a bright future.

Tully hurried into the cosy barn, smiling as Dahlia's face popped out to greet her. She paused at her filly's stall, whipped an apple out of her bag to treat her. Tully rested her arms on the cool metal bars, watching as the young horse did her best to wrap her lips around and bite her teeth into the solid, but sweet Granny Smith. She giggled when Dahlia dropped it into her shavings, ducked into her stall to retrieve and dust it off for her.

As Tully stood back to admire her filly, contented in her sheepskin-trimmed rug that Tully had picked up on sale at Horseland, enjoying the rest of her apple from her bucket in her plush loose box, a burning sense of love and pride crashed over her.
Look at the horse you've become,
Tully thought, her eyes welling with tears.
Look how far we've come together . . .
Tully cast her mind forward to tomorrow – she loved getting out on any of the horses, but her favourite part of the day was when she got to ride Dahlia. She was relishing the training they were doing together, especially as Mr. Barnes was taking it slowly with Dahlia and had only just allowed Tully to take her up to half pace, or 17-second laps.

Dahlia still took a good look at things, like many young and inexperienced horses do, but she was very smart and rarely spooked or baulked at the same thing twice. She was learning every day, growing and filling out. She was even working out stride changes, although she was still hesitant to change to her awkward side. Her front end was a powerful engine, the wide bands of muscle in her rump increasingly toned, driving her forward.

Monday morning, and Tully was drenched and freezing in heavy drizzle from a sudden cold front, bracing against a strong westerly wind that had the horses turning their backsides and nearly refusing to leave their stalls.

She'd managed to ride Fire Starter, or Fin as he was known, around the barn, out before sunrise, her reflective vest glinting, guided by the sparse light from posts dotted along the track. The wind and rain wasn't bad enough to stop track work – Mr. Barnes said they'd train in ‘pretty much anything short of a cyclone'.

Tully relished the experience, especially now she was used to riding in the dark and into sunrise – it'd taken a few weeks of sticking to the outside rail to keep her mounts in check and to see where she was going. She'd never felt such a thrill, hurtling along in the darkness, the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves pounding the ground, the riders chatting to each other with the scents of horse and tack and earth filling their spirits and charging their souls.

Tully didn't need a lead rider to start her into track work, as she already knew how to hold the reins in a ‘bridge', ride short and stand up in the saddle, courtesy of her mum's training. So Mr. Barnes had put her straight to three quarter pace from the 800-metre mark, and told her to stride the experienced horses up from the last two. It was exhilarating even doing slow work in about 24-seconds a lap, and even better doing fast gallops, whipping around the track in about 15-seconds.

Mr. Barnes stopped Tully after she'd finished exercising Fin, her eighth and final horse for the day. He leant his strong forearms on the rail, his eyes running over the gleaming liver chestnut colt, with his striking white face, flaxen mane and tail and four white socks. Tully thought Fin was one of the most handsome horses in the stable. Although he was known for his bite, buck, and generally being a prat to ride, he especially liked the female track riders, strappers and barn hands, and had taken quite a liking to Tully.

‘Finny's going well,' Mr. Barnes said, rain dripping off the peak of his cap. ‘Likes your soft hands.' His dimpled smile lit up his face as he glanced up at Tully. He was young for a premiership-winning trainer, in his mid-thirties, with kind brown eyes and a cowboy charm. Tully tried not to let Mr. Barnes remind her of Brandon. ‘I reckon you're more than ready for a barrier trial, Tulls—get that apprenticeship underway, whaddya reckon?' He nodded at the colt. ‘He should be kind to ya.'

‘That would be amazing,' Tully said, averting her eyes from her trainer, patting Finny hard on the neck – her shoulders and legs still burning from the workout. ‘
Thank
you.' Fin turned his head, rested his white off-hind and started nipping at the front of her boot.

‘I'd like you to strap for Romeo here first, though. You keen to help out at the Ipswich Cup?'

‘
Am
I?!' Tully said, her eyes again finding his. It was only
the
biggest race on the calendar. ‘—I'd absolutely love to! Thanks again, Mr. Barnes.'

Mr. Barnes smiled and nodded, before turning for the track office. Tully trotted Fin to the exit, hopped down to take him back to the tie-up stalls and their two-horse trailer, which had just returned from dropping horses back at Gulherin to take Fin and Cranky back home – the last two horses of the morning. She grinned as she walked Fin the short distance back, the cheeky boy nipping at her shoulder, then trying to catch her braid between his teeth.

Tully's whole body was soaring at the thought of being part of one of the state's premier races. Bundamba was a busy provincial track, with modern grandstands and a wide expanse of perfectly groomed turf. The Cup pulled a huge crowd and was one of the biggest events on the social calendar. Tully's thoughts shifted to starting her apprenticeship – being in the barriers one day soon, tearing along the inside rail. This racecourse was the most exciting place Tully had ever been, and better yet, she'd be on the track.

22

Barriers

Cup day dawned bright, dry and cool, with trainers from all over the state trailering in to try their hand at the historic meet. By mid-morning, what seemed to Tully like half of Brisbane had frocked up and were flooding through the gates, excited to enjoy the on-field entertainment by a popular international DJ, the races themselves, a flutter, or drinks and a laugh with their mates in one of the many themed bars and VIP marquees.

Tully had been to the Cup a few times to watch her mum, but had never strapped officially or even ventured far from the tie-up stalls where she was always helping with the horses. Mr. Barnes even gave her a brand new Curtis Barnes Racing polo in his green and brown colours, before sending her out for pre-race coffees. Tully felt like dancing as she made her way out of the trailer in her new team shirt – taking the whole atmosphere in as a real insider now, nerves and excitement tingling through her fingers and toes. She'd never seen so many guys in suits, or such stunning women in short dresses and longer gowns paired with feathery, flirty, floral fascinators, the more outrageous the better.
This is going to be an incredible day!

Tully listened in amusement to a group of dudes next to the coffee line-up talking about the after-party – how organisers were going for a Guinness World record. Not for anything to do with the racing, but for the most people at one event wearing sunglasses at night. Tully stifled a smile as she imagined the guys in their mirrored sunnies, running amok in the dark. They already had beers in each hand and it wasn't even lunchtime.

She was relieved when she could finally get down to the task at hand, after fetching a stony-faced and nervous Mr. Barnes his second double-shot latte. Fin was up in the second race on the card. He'd been going well all week, but had finished a little stiff and jumpy in his last gallop. His odds were long at 120 to 1 after poor form all season. Tully gave him an extra kiss on the nose and sneaky sugar cube for luck, then ducked over to the Avalon stall to say hi to her dad and Bucko, as Rosie and Jeo were also running.